by O. M. Grey
“Speak of the devil,” Lady Pearson said under her breath, frowning.
After Avalon took a moment to straighten the upset glass Doctor Nesbitt had left, she and I each took a glass of wine for ourselves. The comical man twirled on the dance floor, weaving in and out of the couples, waltzing with his wine. Every so often he would stop, feign a dip, and take a swig from one glass, holding the other stretched out, posing with his long limbs at odd angles as he did so. The couples around him laughed at his antics, clapping as he finished off each glass—for which he took a deep bow. His hat clanged as it hit the floor, leaving a black smudge on the wood.
He stood once again, stiff and straight, as if at attention in a military muster. Only his eyes moved, looking around wildly in mock nonchalance. Several couples had stopped dancing to watch this buffoon perform.
Lady Pearson’s face shone crimson. Shame consumed her. “How I regret inviting that halfwit. I say! He came so highly recommended, as well. From Oxford. A doctor, not to mention professor of biology and astronomy. One would think some class was innate, wouldn’t one? Too late to cancel his part in the cruise now, I’m afraid. Oh! How dreadful.”
Nesbitt chose a few people from the crowd and pantomimed instructions. First, he enlisted the help of two gentlemen, one to hold each empty glass. Then, taking the younger of their two dance partners, waltzed her in a circle around his hat. Each time he passed it, he would make a dramatic bow to retrieve it, but instead, his long, pointed boot would just kick it someplace new.
“He is rather amusing,” I said, laughing with the other onlookers.
“I am far from amused,” Lady Pearson said, but she couldn’t take her eyes off this clown either.
Finally, Nesbitt ended his antics with the song, lowering the lady in a very deep dip. Stringy strands of his long black hair fell from the sides of his face onto hers. She looked up at him with admiration. Once he had her back on her feet and in the arms of her original partner, Nesbitt bowed low again, scooping up his hat and rolling it up his arm onto his head. Applause exploded around him. As the next song began, he found the nearest server and helped himself to two more glasses of wine.
The room returned to as it was before the show. I toasted Lady Pearson: “To your Christmas Cruise, Eliza, and to this splendid Yule Ball!”
“Hear! Hear!” Blackwolf said, raising his glass with ours.
“Forgive us for interrupting your conversation,” Avalon offered.
“Not at all, Avalon. Besides, you are a welcomed and elegant distraction from that buffoon. What were we talking about, Captain? Ah, yes! Nicholas’s disappearance. Good riddance, I say. I hope he stays gone.”
“Eliza is still cross about the short, torrid affair of Nick and her daughter, Fanny Mae.”
“Arthur!” Avalon said, shocked at my blunt statement.
“It’s fine, my dear. It’s not as if it’s a secret, certainly not in this society. Nothing remains secret for long, especially when the gossip is that of a tarnished woman. I hold that mongrel responsible. Like I said, I hope he stays gone.”
“I have no patience for men who don’t respect ladies,” Blackwolf said. “If he don’t stay gone, madam, you just let me know, and I’ll take care of the wretch for ya.”
“You are kind to offer, Arron, indeed. Fanny Mae recovered, well, as near as she could. Married a haberdasher, of all people, and a Scottish one at that,” she spat. “But then, she didn’t have much choice anymore, did she? No. It was all I and her father could do to not go down with her reputation, but I shan’t pay for the foolish mistakes of a girl. Still, I know my daughter, and although she may have trusted the wrong man, it was his doing that ruined her. I shall never forgive him that.”
“Nor should you, sweet lady.”
“It’s the way of the world, is it not?” This was all rather amusing to me. Eliza knew of my reputation, as well, and knew Nick and I were cockers.
“Quite,” she said, clenching her jaw.
“There are many ways of the world that need changing, son,” Blackwolf said.
How cute. He took me for his inferior because of my youthful appearance. Quaint, indeed.
“Rather,” I said and sipped my wine. “Still, pleased or no, it is quite the mystery, isn’t it? He just disappeared? Just like that?”
“That’s what the article said.” Eliza looked over my shoulder at the rest of the party, no doubt searching for an opening to excuse herself. “I suppose you’d have to ask Mr. McFerret for more details. The rest is only hearsay, and as long as I don’t hear Lord Stanton is back, I’m perfectly satisfied. Here’s Mr. McFerret to satisfy your curiosity.”
“W. D. McFerret. How do ya’ll do?” He said, vigorously shaking all our hands, one to the next.
McFerret was very similar to what the name would suggest, although shaped more like a walrus than a ferret, with a mustache to match, but there was something quite ferret-like in his mannerisms. The man had the most prominent jaw in the room, no doubt, on this side of The Atlantic. The large, bushy brown mutton chops that connected with his bushy brown mustache only served to accentuate his face’s rather unfortunate shape. Quite a small man, too, about the size of Avalon, barely over five feet. His voice was of a heavy tenor and thick with a southern drawl, one that outdid even Blackwolf’s, yet somehow more refined. “There’s a good chap! Listen to me sounding all English. Didn’t we beat these blokes about a century ago?” He laughed a hearty laugh and slapped Blackwolf on the belly. “I’ve been here too long. And how are you, my old friend. How’s ‘The Iron Wolf’ these days? Fancy meeting ya on this side of the pond, as they say. Yes. It’s been something to live here in London.”
“No one’s called me that since the war, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. It’s been a long time, William.”
“Willie, please. It’s Willie McFerret these days, unless it’s a byline, of course. Then it’s W. D. McFerret, and I’ve quite a few of those lately. Have you seen? Writing for The Times have you seen? Not to mention a novel or two in the works.”
“Would you excuse me? I see Lady and Lord Hamilton over there, and I have yet to greet them.” Eliza took her out.
“Of course,” I said, bowing in tandem with Blackwolf. Willie, did not bow.
“Thank you for having us tonight,” Avalon added, then Eliza was off.
I watched her go. The purple ruffles of her gown swayed as she crossed the floor with grace. She joined my Hazel. I had been so taken with Hazel Hamilton this summer, before Avalon made me forget interest in all other women. For a time, at least.
Hazel did look ravishing in red.
“I must take my leave as well,” Blackwolf said, drawing my attention back, and, no doubt, trying to get away from Willie. “There is still a lot to do before the cruise. Lady Pearson is transforming my ship, and I don’t doubt it will be as purty as this here hall when she’s done. Lord York. Avalon,” he said, kissing her hand again. “I’ll see you aboard.”
“Of course, Mr. Blackwolf. We are looking forward to it.”
I was altogether terrified we would be left alone with this little ferret man, and though I wanted to learn more about Nicholas’s supposed disappearance, I didn’t believe I could bear a conversation with this weasel. Fortunately, he left us without so much as a by your leave, following Blackwolf across the room, prattling on about his stories.
“Arthur! Arthur! Over here!” Emily Bainbridge stood next to a gentleman I didn’t know and a glorious creature, dressed all in copper and gold. Huge bustle. This must be her unchaste friend Chastity. How perfectly delightful.
“Arthur.” Avalon’s tone had a warning edge to it.
“Yes, quite the bore, my dear, but we mustn’t be rude,” I hissed back at her. The woman tried to control my every move. This must stop, and soon.
“Arthur, Avalon.” She said the latter through clenched teeth. “May I present the Baron Vincent Von Rictus Baine and Mrs. Chastity Rosengarten? Baron, Chastity, may I introduced you to Lord Arthur
York, and my niece, Miss Avalon Bainbridge?”
“Pleasure,” Avalon said, offering the Baron her scarlet satin hand.
“The pleasure is mine, dear lady,” he responded, kissing it.
“How do you do?” Chastity, in all her absolute loveliness, said. She appeared to be just slightly older than Avalon. Late thirties or early forties, I’d wager. Perfect age. Such a succulent mixture of experience and relative youthful vigor. Well, if she wasn’t a spinster, and the Mrs. before her name told me she wasn’t. I kissed her hand, and I took my time about it, too, locking eyes with hers. I wasn’t sure who captivated the other more, but I was indeed taken by this portrait of elegance and beauty.
“We were just talking about the disappearance of Lord Stanton.” Emily’s voice was a little higher than normal, likely in delight at the cross expression on Avalon’s face. She wasn’t hiding that well. No, indeed. Avalon pulled back on my arm, forcing me away from the gaze with Chastity.
“It seems everyone is.” Quite bored already. “Baron,” I said, nodding a hello. He, as most of these here tonight, appeared well beneath me, despite the title, but one must be polite nonetheless. Lady and Lord Pearson might as well have invited all of London, no matter what their class. Actually, it seemed they had.
“Well, Baron, here, was saying his is not the first mysterious disappearance, and jolly old England isn’t the first country, either.”
“Is that so, Baron? And what is it you do, sir?”
“I’m a SteamMage, sir. Master and Principle of the Guilds of ChronoMages and PortalMages, as well as an inventor. I travel quite extensively.”
“Is that so? What, exactly, is a SteamMage or ChronoMage, sir?”
“Well, sir, a ChronoMage is someone who travels in time and a PortalMage, between dimensions. A SteamMage does both. It’s what I do, sir. I’ve built a Time Machine. One of my own invention.”
“A time machine.” I didn’t hide the condescending, flat tone of my voice. That, coupled with the most pleasant smile, would surely make my point.
“Indeed, sir! A Time Machine!” Perhaps not. This SteamMage’s eyes lit up as bright as any gaslamp when he spoke of such things. Madness, of course, but amusing to watch. His curly mustache spread wide with his smile. “But I did not need travel in time to discover these stories, sir. No, sir. There are stories of such bizarre disappearances all over Europe, sir. For decades, sir. Always a ladies’ man, if you get my meaning. Always one who delights, perhaps too much, if I do say so, sir, in the ladies. Not much of a loss. No, sir.” He adjusted his spectacles, then exchanged his serious expression with a kind glance to each of the ladies among us.
“How perfectly delightful,” Emily said, clapping her hands together, making her red and green bows bounce. “Perhaps you’re next, Arthur.” She giggled, enjoying this far too much.
“Not at all, Lady Bainbridge.” I patted Avalon’s hand, resting in the crook of my arm. “I have settled down, after all.”
“Speaking of cads,” Emily continued, “I understand Doctor Nesbitt is performing on the airship for Christmas Eve.”
“Emily!” Avalon scolded.
“What, my dear? The man doesn’t hide it, no. Not at all. Especially when he’s had a few, which is, let’s face it, always. In fact, if it were just a few, it wouldn’t be so dreadfully pathetic.”
“We saw him earlier. I think everyone did. How could they not? He’s dressed in explorer gear, quite the odd thing to wear to a ball, don’t you find?” I was continuously fascinated by fashion, how it came and went, ebbed and flowed. “I’m the first to be a little unconventional, as you well know, Lady Bainbridge.”
“At least it wasn’t the khaki one,” she continued. “How very dull. Do you know he blackens that blasted pith helmet with shoe polish to wear to formal parties? And that cravat! Honestly! Red satin with a sprig of holly at its center. The man is a buffoon.”
Ripe, coming from her. “Unlike you, my peach, who lights up the entire room with your grace and colorful ensemble.” Painful to look at. Truly.
“He always wears that,” Chastity said. “A friend of mine is in one of his classes at university, and she said he’s always in explorer gear, even under his scholar robes. Always with that blasted helmet. Always talking about his adventures. Sometimes, he even has binoculars around his neck, but I suppose they would get in the way of his dancing tonight.”
“She?” Emily said with a scandalous lilt.
“Yes, she. It is uncommon, for certain, dear Emily, but there are a few women who attend university.”
“And it’s high time, too. Hear! Hear!” the SteamMage chimed in. “Women have strong, clear minds, sir! Indeed, sir! Much more so than men, I dare say. It is high time, too.”
“Quite,” Emily said in a terse tone. She didn’t agree, but no surprise there.
“So, Mrs. Rosengarten, what brings you to London? Rosengarten, that’s German, is it not?”
“It is, Lord York. My husband was German, but I actually live in Paris. I’m just visiting for the holidays. London is so beautiful this time of year, don’t you find?”
“You don’t sound French, or German, for that matter.”
“No, I’m neither. I was raised in Yorkshire. Long story, widowed now, but I wouldn’t want to bore you with all that history. The present is far more interesting.” The coy, knowing look she shared with me didn’t go unnoticed, not by Avalon nor Emily neither. Ah. Women. How I adored when they fought over me, even in silent polite ways. Yes, I was rather worth it, after all.
“Is what the good SteamMage here says true? Have you heard of these disappearances on your side of the channel?”
“We have. Whisperings here and there, is all. It will be delightful to see my Paris from aloft on Christmas Eve.” Her eyes sparkled. “In all my years, I have yet to travel via dirigible. It is all rather new and frightening as well, to be up so high.”
“It is sure to be a spectacular view, my dear. Even more so in another decade. Just wait until you see le Tour Eiffel. Magnifique! Vraiment!” The Baron Vincent Von Rictus Baine rocked forward on his toes, then back on his heels, quite pleased with himself.
This man spoke nonsense. “Indeed.”
“But even now, sir. The view of Sacre Coeur et Notre Dame along The Seine, all gaslit for the holidays. It will be quite lovely, indeed. I understand we shall be landing on L’esplanade des Invalides for an overnight stay. Perhaps we could land on Champ de Mars while it’s still possible.”
“Oh, Baron. Do you think we will see Champs Elysees from the air?”
“No doubt, my dear. No doubt! Yes, Le Champs-Elysees, another sight to see in the future. Another beautiful sight. Not to mention the scandalous Moulin Rouge. All yet to be seen, my dears.”
“Perhaps the good Mr. Blackwolf would make a special stop at Bedlum upon our return to London, Baron. Good evening, all. Please excuse us. Emily. Mrs. Rosengarten.” My voice softened for the last, of course, and not by mistake. “We shall see you all over Paris.”
“How rude.” Avalon chided when we had left earshot.
“Please, Avalon, time travel? The man was quite obviously daft.”
“There was still no need to be so impolite, Arthur. Really, what has gotten into you lately?”
The problem was the other way around, I hadn’t gotten into enough ladies lately. That would change quite soon. “Apologies, my dear. I’m quite sure I don’t know. Ah! Here is more wine, let us toast us. Always, my love. You and me together, forever.”
In the meantime, I looked forward to cornering Mrs. Rosengarten in some dark shadows on the dirigible. Yes, indeed.
CHAPTER FIVE
CONSTANCE
“Not here,” he said, disguising the words as a harsh cough belched from the side of his mouth as I approached him standing near the sculpted marble fireplace, talking with a group of men. The great W. D. McFerret, too good, or too afraid, rather, to be seen with me at this opulent gala, turned from me and laughed heartily, clamping his
black cigarette holder between his teeth, which only served to accentuate his unfortunate jaw. The great coward squeezed his eye around his monocle and said, “Excuse me, gentlemen,” then joined in with a new group of revelers standing near the three tiered Christmas trees, each a perfect height to complement the other two, decorated with gold bows and red berries. Their opulence added to the overall splendor of the Pearson’s parlour. Teal walls with golden trim framed frescoes of frolicking cherubs which, in turn, echoed the ornate carvings in the marble mantle, topped with poinsettias and winter foliage.
As I made pleasantries with a few people standing near the great grandfather clock set in an alcove, William Daniel McFerret shot a petty glare in my direction for the slightest moment for daring to be in the same room as he before masking his face again in revelry and charm.
Yes. Fear. Since his wife was amongst the partygoers, somewhere. Poor woman, likely had no idea.
They rarely did.
I held my head up high, excused myself from the conversation, and returned to the ballroom, curtsying to the first kind-looking gentleman I saw. He promptly asked me to dance, and I accepted. After all, this was a ball, and I was in such a pretty green gown. The beads of my black choker matched the handiwork down the front, and my supposed lover couldn’t even look at me out of his cowardice. Nothing improper had happened with Willie yet, nothing like that, but he was certainly laying the groundwork with the intention of taking the title of lover soon enough. Absurd that he wouldn’t speak to me here. It only made him look more guilty, but then, he wasn’t as smart as he pretended to be.
