Now Amethyst looked back on it, though, she realised that as afraid as she had been with one man, with Monty, she was perfectly comfortable with both Maker and Jenson, with both together or either alone. She had to try and remember that not all men were the same, or it could sour her. They weren’t all selfish and demanding. Some were honourable and considerate. And she was fortunate indeed to have two wonderful examples of such men in her close acquaintance.
What would she do if Maker came to her room at night? Would she deny him? Everything told her she should. But every part of her screamed that she didn’t want to. Would he ever come to her? Probably not. With loyalty being his biggest fault, it was unlikely she’d ever overcome that. But she’d like to try.
Dickens had entered the last of the formulae from the last of Stephen’s notebooks into DMAC, so there was nothing left to do there. What Amethyst needed now was to finish with the glass she had ground the edges of. The broken lamp could still be of use. She pulled on her apron and sleeve protectors and set to work. The acrid scent of soldering filled the air as Edwina brought Felix into the workroom.
“I hope you don’t mind, we hoped to see Stephen again.” The boy was scampering to the small table where two chairs sat on either side of where the broken lamp and its remaining pane sat.
“Hello, Daddy!” The boy waved as if Stephen couldn’t hear or see them without looking through the glass.
Amethyst smiled, wondered if she’d ever have a child who would be so happy to see her. She looked to Edwina. “I don’t mind for now, but I will have to continue with this, and I will need some peace later to see if I can work out how to get Stephen back.”
Edwina nodded and smiled and went to kneel beside her son. The change in Edwina was quite dramatic. Gone was the shadow of a widow woman, it seemed Edwina had been resurrected. Colour bloomed in her cheeks, her hairstyle had relaxed and improved, she dressed in colour. Today she wore a lovely meadow green that brought out the colour of eyes Amethyst had barely noticed before.
Watching the family felt like an intrusion, so she concentrated again on her own nearly finished work. Once she’d fitted the last piece, she picked the modified goggles up and tested them, turned to the family again - and now she saw three of them. The humans appeared a bit fuzzy, and Stephen still had the fractal effect of there being many of him and none in synchronisation.
“Here.” She held out the modified goggles to Edwina. “Try these.”
The other woman put them over her head and adjusted them over her eyes. “Oh, wonderful.”
“Now you aren’t limited to looking through a broken lamp.” She offered another set to Felix, who eagerly put them on, then jumped up and down and squealed in delight to still be able to see his father. “You can go anywhere and if Stephen’s there, you’ll be able to see him.”
Edwina looked confused. “But I’ve only sensed his presence here.”
“That’s probably more memory than anything. This room was more his than anyone else’s. I suspect he still spends more time here than most places, but he can go where he wants, and now you’ll be able to see him if you look through those. Now I’m sorry to give and immediately snatch it all away, but I really need to get some work done, and I was hoping Stephen would be able help me with that.”
Edwina nodded, though her smile faltered. “We’ll come back later.”
“I don’t want to go.” Felix threw himself at where Stephen must be standing, thankfully Amethyst was quick enough to catch him before he fell on his face.
“The more I work with your father,” she assured the boy, “the quicker you’ll have him back.”
“I don’t‒”
“Felix.” Edwina took the boy’s arm and worked down to his hand. “We have to let Miss Forester work. We want your daddy back just as soon as possible, don’t we?”
With a hung head and a downturned mouth, the boy agreed.
“Give me a couple of hours to get some work done, then check through the glasses, I’m sure Stephen will come to you just as soon as he can.”
The constant clattering seemed to run up and down like someone at a piano playing the same dozen notes in quick succession and in round with at least three other pianists doing exactly the same. Or perhaps he should liken it to many percussionists each striking a glockenspiel, the metallic and individual nature of each note, though unmusical, rang clear. Did a fifth enter the round?
Knocking at the door achieved nothing.
“What? No, that’ll never work.”
Amethyst sounded frustrated. Maker had no idea who she was talking to, but when it came to mechanical marvels, she was usually the most knowledgeable person in the room, so he guessed that whatever ‘it’ was, it would never work. For a moment he was torn as to whether or not to intrude.
“I have no idea what you are trying to indicate!” More frustration. “Oh, this is hopeless!”
Time to intrude.
He stepped in, the sound of his being there covered by the continuing racket of the moving computational part of the DMAC; either his suggestion hadn’t worked or hadn’t been tried. Amethyst stood in front of a large blackboard mounted on an easel. The symbology was mathematical and aetheric. Scrubbed areas suggested rubbing outs and formula tweaks, and though he had some solid knowledge, the contents of the board were all far beyond his comprehension.
Even with her back to him, he could appreciate her beauty. In her simple unadorned purple gown, with her hands on her hips, she was fully concentrated on the work. She’d removed the bandage from her finger; he saw quite a long thin scab, and she held it straighter than the other fingers. In her brown sleeve protectors and an apron of the same thick brown cotton tied around her slim waist, she was simply, as ever, the most attractive woman he had ever known. Since she clearly couldn’t hear him, he closed the door, tempted to lock it behind him, resisting only because he feared the temptation he might succumb to if interruptions were impossible. He did not want to see Monty in his mirror.
Attention back on Amethyst, he moved closer. Myriad tendrils had escaped the confinement of the neat bun she’d worn that morning; they sparked in the light, giving his angel a halo. Two pencils stuck out at angles from her hair, a length of white chalk balanced between her fingers, white dust on her hand, on the sleeve protectors and, he noticed, a little on the purple of her skirt. A step behind her now, he noticed the band around her head. She was wearing some sort of eye protection.
“I need a break.” She threw the chalk to the rest of the board and it rattled but stayed there. “We’ll try again later.”
She turned. “Argh!”
He had to catch her as she stepped back and nearly tripped over the easel. One hand grabbed her to him, hard against him, the other steadied the board.
Once equilibrium had been regained for the inanimate object, he let that go and looked down at the warm, soft sweetheart in his arm. She looked up at him through goggles with opaque covers. Goggles she swiftly removed, allowing more curls to cascade about her.
“Maker!” Her smile warmed him to the core, in ways it really shouldn’t. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
He stood straight now, keeping her against him. Her lack of struggle suggested she didn’t mind that one little bit. The mass of petticoats hopefully prevented her detecting what he couldn’t hide. He nodded towards the desk and DMAC.
“Yes, it is a little loud. I’m running some calculations to see what gives the optimum outcome. I got the rubber washers to act as buffers, I just haven’t fitted them yet. That’s my next job.”
Made sense. He nodded. Then tapped the goggles in her still-upheld hand.
“I made a cover of prismatic glass, to see Stephen.”
“You made that glass, here?”
“It’s bits from the broken lamp. I gave a pair to Edwina, so she can see Stephen too. We, Stephen and I, are working together trying to work out how to get him, well, back together. It’s proving a little difficult. H
e can hear me, but I can’t hear him. He’s trying to do it all through pointing and gestures, but because he’s just a load of colour shadows on colour shadows, I can’t see clearly enough what he’s trying to communicate.”
Maker looked around, he couldn’t see anything. Amethyst held the goggles in front of her face and looked around too.
“He’s gone.”
“Closed door?” Maker asked.
“He’s non-corporeal, doors and walls can’t stop him.” The rattling of the DMAC finally cascaded down to a blessed silence. Amethyst wound her arms around Maker’s neck. “We’re quite alone.”
She was in his arms, smiling at him. Dear God, she was pressing herself against him.
“You’re not that alone.”
Great-Aunt Flora’s voice dumped ice water over them, and they broke apart. Amethyst moved behind the desk, and Maker wished he had such protection. Still, he had to turn. Great-Aunt Flora was a vision in black, sitting in the chair near the fireplace, her cane beneath her hand and her brow a glowering crow threatening to peck his eyes out.
I’m in trouble.
“I may be old, Lord Fotheringham‒”
I’m in big trouble.
“‒but I can strike as hard as any young strumpet.”
He wouldn’t bet on that, but he’d really rather not find out for certain. He offered the older woman a bow and strode out, not daring to look back at Amethyst, for fear she would be his undoing.
Chapter 45
“What on earth do you think you were doing, young lady?”
Amethyst sank into the desk chair and buried her head in her hands. “Being a complete idiot.”
“Did you forget I was here?”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“With your machine clanking so incessantly?” Amethyst heard the sigh and felt hands on her shoulders. “Come along, deary, sit up. We need to talk and I don’t like talking to the back of a person’s head.”
Amethyst sat up and looked at the clock on the mantle. “Oh Lord, is that the time?” Ten past, and they had agreed to meet on the hour to discuss the situation. She stood, but Great-Aunt Flora blocked her exit.
“Don’t think you’re going to get away from me that easily, deary.”
For a moment, the determination on Great-Aunt Flora’s face was alarming. It quickly became disarming and Amethyst smiled.
“I was supposed to meet Jenson and Maker in the library to discuss all that we’ve discovered on the hour. In all likelihood, Maker came looking to remind me of the time. What just happened was my fault, not his. You’re welcome to join the discussion if you wish to, but I need to be there. Jenson will be there and I know you trust him.”
That narrow-eyed calculation left her in no doubt that she was being measured and probably found wanting.
Great-Aunt Flora moved towards the door, Amethyst didn’t know what choice had been made, so she stayed where she was. Hand on the doorknob, Great-Aunt Flora turned back to her.
“Come along, deary. Don’t we have a meeting to attend?”
Relief flooded through Amethyst as she moved around the desk and walked at the sedate pace of the older lady as they headed to the library. Her heart seemed to be trying to batter its way out of her chest. How would she face Maker after what she’d done? She was going to do what he did. Not speak of it. Not think of it. Concentrate on what mattered.
She allowed Great-Aunt Flora to enter the library first.
Coward.
She closed the door behind them and saw that Jenson and Maker were at the shelves. Great-Aunt Flora headed directly for the chairs by the unlit hearth - the day was sufficiently warm that they did not need a fire. Keeping her eyes averted, Amethyst followed and stood by the chair, behind her aunt.
“Here.” Maker reached up and pulled a thick book in a dark red leather cover, which he passed to Jenson.
“What were you looking for, deary?”
“Debrett’s Peerage.”
“I couldn’t find it,” Jenson said as the men moved towards the hearth.
“Thought the Montgomerys seemed the sort of family that would have one,” Amethyst answered, though she kept her eyes down until Maker had stepped through to take position by the hearth. “I’ll find the entry if you’d like.” She swallowed, made herself face Jenson, reached out her hand. “It was your suggestion that we meet and discuss what we’ve found, and you’ll have more to say than the rest of us. I hope you don’t mind me bringing Great-Aunt Flora along. But, things being as they are, I thought it best.”
Jenson looked to the older lady, and Amethyst saw the cogs in his brain working, considering what difference her presence could make. As far as Amethyst was concerned, it was no different to Maker’s presence. The things that could not be revealed to Great-Aunt Flora were also the things they could not reveal to Maker.
“Why don’t you take a seat, Amethyst?”
Jenson indicated the second chair opposite Great-Aunt Flora. That would put her closer to Maker but would also allow her not to look at him. She looked to Great-Aunt Flora, who looked back. The slight twitch of her head was the instruction to go and sit down. Eyes on Jenson, then the book he passed to her, Amethyst moved around and sat. This was much better, she didn’t have to worry about her knees trembling so much. And flicking through to find the entry on Earl Pembrey gave her an excuse not to look at anyone.
“Well,” Jenson said, “I think the best way forward is to start at the beginning. Stephen Russell. I was brought here to investigate his disappearance. Clearly, we all know the truth now, but while I was looking into the matter a number of interesting things came to light, particularly about people interested in his work.” He turned particularly to Amethyst. “On Saturday, you seemed to indicate the choice of the T20 was Stephen’s and not that it was sabotage or interference?”
She nodded and looked up. “Yes. When I saw him and understood what had happened, I realised that it was the bandwidth of the resonance pattern that had caused the issue. The only way that would occur is through the double loop of the T20.”
“But Jade indicated that that wouldn’t have caused the explosion.”
“That’s right. The T20 didn’t. In fact, as far as I can tell, it wasn’t the mechanics that caused the problem, it was the fact that the transmission couldn’t go anywhere. The machine was sending and sending, but the signal just bounced straight back, a feedback loop. That overheated the whole thing and then it blew up.”
“Why didn’t it go anywhere? Didn’t he build a receiver?”
She shrugged. “Technically speaking, the transmitter is the receiver, but there need to be two distinct units to bridge the gap. There must be a receiver, I just have no idea where the second unit is.”
“Hmm.” For a moment Jenson put his hands in his trouser pockets and looked at the wall over the mantel to consider it. “One of the names that has come up during my investigations is James Peterson.”
“Peterson?” Great-Aunt Flora said.
“You recognise the name?”
“Not exactly.” She considered it. “I have heard the name mentioned though. More than once.”
“Where?”
“Here.” She tapped the cane lightly on the floor. “In this house. The Chalmers’ have mentioned it a few times.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Amethyst added. “I overheard them asking after Peterson the first evening they arrived.” She looked to Jenson. “Sorry, but that’s all I’ve heard.”
He nodded. “Good. The local constable has told me that James Peterson is something of a rabble rouser. He used to work as a farrier, but upset too many of the landed gentry. Now he works in the coal mines several miles from here. But he’s known to be a member of the New Jacobites, those who oppose having a Hanoverian queen and want a return to the Stuarts.”
“Chalmers,” Maker added.
“Indeed. Monty told us that the lead protestors had been arrested and it’s all over and done with, but it’s not. Peterson was ar
rested, and then released, the plans for the demonstration against Queen Victoria are in place.”
“Surely it’s only some silly little protest. How many people can be involved?” Great-Aunt Flora asked.
“Apparently, more than one might expect, but I’ll come back to that.” Jenson turned to Maker. “You’ve known Lord Montgomery for some time now?”
Maker blinked. “School years.”
“So, you’re familiar with the estate as well?”
Amethyst didn’t dare look to see, and Maker didn’t speak. Yet she got the impression of agreement.
“It seems to be failing, lots of money being owned. To various powerful people.”
“Including me.”
Jenson raised his brows. “How much is he into you for?”
“A thousand.”
The way Jenson whistled underlined the size of such a debt.
“From what I’ve learned,” Amethyst added, concentrating on Jenson, “I believe Stephen was running the estate into profit and in his absence, a great deal has been left to slide.”
“Then there’s the extravagance,” Great-Aunt Flora said. “As lovely as it is to be invited to a house party for a full fortnight, such a thing is expensive, especially with twelve guests, eleven now. Then there is that conveyance he was so quick to whisk you off in.”
The cane pointed accusation at Amethyst and she hung her head. What had happened in that car was not something she wanted to think about. Though in fairness, the restricted size of the thing might well have been her saviour. Montgomery couldn’t have tried what he tried last night in the A-Class, there simply wasn’t room.
“Yes, well.”
Whatever else was going on, it seemed they were making Jenson uncomfortable. She swallowed her own dryness of throat and looked up at him. “You were saying about the debts?”
Echoes of Aether Page 23
