Avalon Revamped

by O. M. Grey

  “As well it should be, mum.”

  “I will take great delight in his demise.”

  “As will I, madam. Each one you stop heals those old wounds a little more.”

  “Now. Onto personas. Do I have time, Everett?”

  “Not much, mum, but you have a few minutes.”

  “Two, at least, perhaps three for the cruise, I’d wager. Just to be safe.”

  Standing before the looking glass, I regarded myself in my natural state, more or less, the way I looked when I transcended, minus the bruises and fractured ribs. My body had been so broken and used after my husband and his three friends had finished with me, that I was hardly recognizable. They left me for dead, but I didn’t die.

  They did.

  All of them did.

  “Now. To practice.” I said, shaking off the memory. Even after five hundred years, it sometimes felt as if it were moments ago. Such was the result of trauma. Sometimes I couldn’t shake it off. Sometimes it consumed me as if it had just happened, but I was lucky today wasn’t one of those days because now I had to get the feel of shifting from one to the next, as I wouldn’t have a looking glass but in my cabin. I wanted to be prepared to shift on deck, if necessary, so I must learn the sensation of every curve, every color, every fold of the fabric.

  “First, Charlotte Sopha, for Willie.”

  “The main course, as it were,” Everett said.

  “Quite,” I said, smiling at him. It was nice to have company, after I had been without for so long. Everett had made a good companion, but he didn’t have many years left. I would miss him terribly when he died but I couldn’t mourn his passing too much, for he would finally be at peace. Finally reunited with Agnes.

  Currently, I wore a black dress with lace sleeves, its bodice trimmed in gold piping at the bottom and decorated with a lovely piece of white lace that stretched up on either side of the neck. A golden brooch adorned the center of my black-satin covered throat. From it, as well as from various places within the lace, long strands of black pears draped across my décolletage in the most becoming way. My dark blonde hair was twisted up into a loose bun, but it would be so much more elegant tonight.

  “Charlotte is an ambitious and talented girl from the other side of the city, given a grand sum to purchase a new gown for the gala. Hmmmm.”

  “She looked lovely for the Yule Ball. Green satin and adorned with black pearls. Elegant, for sure.”

  “Indeed, but it would be such a faux pas to wear the same dress, don’t you know. Scandalous, indeed.” With a flourish I took on the countenance of mock horror, making Everett laugh.

  “We certainly couldn’t have that, Madam. The sun might not rise after such a slight!”

  “Tonight, I will stick with colors of the season, though. How about this one.”

  Drawing a long, slow breath, I pictured the gown and Charlotte’s sable curls. Her wide, blue eyes, innocent and hopeful. Imperceptibly, I shifted into Charlotte. It took more control, more time, but in the event someone saw me out of the corner of their eye or in partial shadow, the change would be gradual enough that they wouldn’t notice anything strange. Unaware of the atmosphere of an airship cruise ship, I had better be prepared. Before long, the white pearls had turned into red bows and the black gown into a deep shade of green, accented with a red overdress and bustle. Perfectly spiraled black ringlets fell from either side of my face.

  “Beautiful, mum, and perfectly subtle. If I wasn’t watching for it, I wouldn’t have even seen the changes. Still, let’s hope you have some privacy for your own sake. Best not to let onto the game too soon, lest one might get away.”

  “That will most certainly not happen. No one escapes my web. Now onto the professor’s girl,” I said, testing the timbre of Charlotte’s voice. “Something a little more scandalous and stereotypical for the doctor, I think. Utterly pathetic, that man.” The deep blue of my eyes lightened to nearly white and my hair went from black through all the shades of brown into a light blonde, pulled together loosely at the back. “Meet Claire Wiseheart, Everett. What do you think?”

  “A chambermaid, mum? A young one at that.”

  “Barely seventeen,” I said with Claire’s new voice, which was higher and somehow a touch sweeter than Charlotte’s. Childlike. Face a little more rounded, mouth pouty and full. Breasts larger, waist tighter. Perfect. “That’ll do, indeed.”

  “Cuckoo! Cuckoo!” The tiny bird dashed out, then back in his door.

  “Oh my! The time. I’ll be late, I will,” I said in Claire’s sing-song voice. “Oooh! I do like this voice, govna. How perfectly delightful. But not for now.” The timbre lowered as I shifted back into Charlotte. “Now you must get my trunk downstairs and find me a hansom.” As I moved toward the door, I continued shifting until I was back to myself.

  “Going out as yourself?”

  “Yes. The gown must wait until I’m aboard and the gala begins anyway, and since I’m boarding alone, I shouldn’t be concerned about anyone seeing me. Even if they did, no mind. Their eyes wouldn’t stay on me for long. No one knows Constance Saggese, remember. Except for you, my dear, and my clients, of course.”

  “What a pleasure it’s been, Madam.”

  “For me, too, Everett.” I touched his frail hand as I passed him. Yes. I didn’t have much longer with him, and it saddened me, but he was here now. That was all that mattered. Turning to the open trunk, I recounted the contents in my mind, ensuring I didn’t forget anything. “Excellent, take that down. I must grab a little something from my room, and I’ll meet you curbside.”

  “Very good, madam.”

  “Thank you, Everett.” I left him to wrestle with the travel trunk while I grabbed a few peas from my chamber. I never indulged in the stuff, but the doctor certainly had the reputation as an addict, and after what I had seen at the ball, he would do just about anything for a pea, it seemed. Yes, addicted to many vices, that one. I descended the stairs and bundled up against the cold.

  It was still snowing, and it made the streets quite slushy and muddy, but I didn’t mind. Snow was always welcome, as it made this ugly world a little more beautiful, for a while. Then it, as everything, didn’t last. It faded away as beauty always did.

  Everett stood on the curb, my travel trunk by his side, teeth chattering against the cold. His bony arms wrapped around his weakening body.

  “Get back inside, Everett. You’re shivering.”

  “But your hansom, Madam.” Hollow cheeks mottled with brownish spots and white whiskers trembled in the icy wind. Not so long ago, he was strong and full of rage. Young. Fit. Now his youth and physical strength had diminished as the time had passed. His kindness grew. His sense of peace grew. He knew he would be with Agnes soon, and that pleased him. It pleased me, too, in a very sad way.

  “Not to worry. Send the doorman out. He’ll hail one for me.”

  “Very good, mum. Take care of yourself tonight.”

  “Oh, I shall be fine. Make yourself a good cup of tea and warm up now. I’m not ready to lose you, Everett.”

  “Of course, mum.” With that he was back inside. A moment later, the doorman emerged, greeted me, and then waited out by the curb to find a hansom.

  In the meantime, I stood with my face turned skyward, catching snowflakes on my face, feeling them melt and leave a tiny cold spot behind. Moments like this, so few and far between, were what gave this life purpose. Fleeting moments of pure joy.

  §

  The driver dropped me at Hyde Park, where we were to board the great dirigible, and immense it most certainly was. No wonder we had to board in Hyde Park, as it wouldn’t fit anywhere else in London.

  My heart leapt at the sight of it. Before long, I would be snuggled in my cabin, out of the cold, looking out over London as we floated toward Paris. Amazing. Long life had few benefits, indeed, but watching technology progress was certainly one of them. I often wondered what wonders the future held.

  Even still. Here. Now.

  1882
London was a far cry from 1369 Romania.

  1882 London was a far cry from 1882 Romania, come to think of it.

  The ship alone filled a city block, and with its balloon overhead, it stretched at least as tall as the buildings therein. The dirigible astounded my Old World mind. Yet, there it was. They had a hanger or two on the outskirts of the city, down the east side, but the great elite of London’s High Society would not be seen down the east side. Certainly not. It must’ve been where they had kept the colossal machine before tonight. I had never seen anything so big in all my existence, not even in the water. Although, I gathered half of a ship was below the surface, so it wouldn’t have looked as big as this did all out in the open.

  A line of passengers waited to board, so I wasn’t too late after all. I paid the driver, plus a handsome tip, and he dragged my travel trunk across the road to where a porter took over with a curt nod. I presented my ticket to the porter, and he scribbled down something on a pocket pad before giving me a nod as well and loading my trunk on his wheeled cart along with the others.

  The loading queue was starting to thin out as I approached the grand flying machine. I had never seen anything quite like it, certainly not from this close distance. The air held that fresh, crisp scent, like just after a cold rain or snow. Clean, pure somehow. I breathed in, allowing the frosty air to fill the entirety of my lungs, while taking in the splendor about me. Groups of people draped in fine coats and hats milled about heading toward the ramp along with me. Excited tones and a few unseemly squeals competed with the droning engines, which grew in volume as I got closer. A few familiar faces from the ball the other night caught my eye here and there, but not any of my targets yet. Perfect. I wanted to enjoy this moment free from the taint of those rogues.

  A gentleman stood at the bottom of the ramp, checking tickets and saluting passengers. He saluted in the American way, I noticed, with the palm facing down. As part of the fun, no doubt, he had each group say “Permission to board, sir” before clicking his heels together and giving them a smart salute to allow them to pass. The groups giggled or made other sounds of delight, then began the long climb up the ramp to the open doors, about midship. Each time he would snap to attention and salute, the golden epaulettes jiggled in a most amusing way. Gold buttons lined the grey uniform in a double line down the front, and a gold braided belt cinched the waist.

  “Good evening, Miss. Just one?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, holding out my ticket. The whispers behind me spoke in scandalous tones about the woman traveling alone, but I kept my head up and smiled politely at the retired soldier.

  “Very, good, ma’am.” He handed my ticket back to me and waited patiently at parade rest.

  “Permission to come aboard, sir.”

  “Granted.” He snapped to attention and saluted me. Even though he had done it to every other passenger before me, it felt as though it was especially for me, like I was a proper lady, someone to be admired and respected. Which, of course, I was, but rarely did I get an outward show of it coming from anything but fear. I knew it was part of the experience, of course, but I let the glow of acceptance and honor warm my heart as I ascended to the ship.

  Once on board, the comfortable atmosphere surprised me, since it had once been a war vessel. Although far from opulent like Lady Pearson’s abode, the ship displayed fine craftsmanship at every turn without the frills. After spending some months penetrating London’s sumptuous High Society, I found it quite refreshing.

  As I awaited my turn to be welcomed aboard personally by Captain Blackwolf, I caught a glimpse of the chamber ahead, and it was fully decorated with all the finery one would expect from Lady Pearson. Boughs of garlands and holly draped across every doorway. A large Christmas tree, decorated with crimson and gold ribbons and hundreds of apples stood beside the staircase, which must have led to the upper decks.

  Before being flooded with the light in the reception area, I took advantage of the relative darkness inside this vestibule to shift into Charlotte Sopha.

  “Good evening, Captain,” I said with a polite curtsey.

  “Miss Sopha! How lovely to see you again,” he said, eyes glowing. He kissed my proffered hand and smiled sweetly at me. If I didn’t know better, I would think the attentive man fancied me, and he might just. He was an honorable man, through and through, so there was no reason for me to get close to him, however. Pity, that. It was one of the detriments to my work. I would never know the love of a truly good man.

  “My crew is dressed in grey uniforms, and the servants are dressed in black and white. The gentleman over there,” he explained, pointing to a man in grey by the stairway, “will hand you a map of the ship and an itinerary. He’ll also inform you as to the location of your room and assign you a valet. Do enjoy your stay, Miss Sopha. Such a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Thank you, sir.” As I made my way to the porter, I heard the captain greet the next guests with just as much warmth and care. It wasn’t special for me after all. Just as well.

  My cabin was small but comfy. I wondered how London’s elite would react to the size of the lodgings. I slid past the narrow opening between the bunk beds and the desk to look out a small, round window that allowed me to see outside. The sun had already set, and Hyde Park was sheathed in darkness. It would be so lovely to watch the view change as we progressed. I only wished we were traveling during the day. On the way back Christmas morning, I didn’t think I would leave the side of the ship. I’d watch the landscape change from France to The Channel to the white cliffs to farms and country towns, then finally back to the endless buildings of London. It would be my most memorable Christmas yet, no doubt.

  I sat down at the small desk across from the single-width bunk beds and pulled out the itinerary. My skirt caught a rough edge of the bed’s wooden frame, which tore the delicate fabric. I couldn't imagine what it would be like for two people to live here. Especially with bustles. There was hardly enough room for basic furnishings, let alone my skirts and travel trunk, which was already in my room when I arrived.

  Turning to the schedule once again, I perused the events to take place over the next two evenings. Dinner at half past six, both nights. Tonight, a string quartet and a tour of the ship by Capt. Blackwolf or stargazing led by Doctor Nesbitt from eight until nine, then dancing until midnight. Tomorrow. Day in Paris, then at night, games at eight! Splendid! I did love games, and they would be playing Charades, Oranges and Lemons, and Pass the Slipper. How delightful.

  As I was daydreamed about having a bit of time to myself for merriment, for a change, someone shoved a folded piece of paper beneath my cabin door, pulling me out of my fun fantasy of games, reminding me the purpose of my presence. It was, indeed, from Willie. Eight o’clock, tomorrow. His cabin. The rest of the note just said how I should keep out of sight tonight and destroy the note.

  How stealthy of him. Did he expect me to swallow it?

  The note also said how much he was looking forward to our meeting.

  I just bet he was.

  Eight o’clock, of course, during the one thing I wanted to do on this cruise. I was truly hoping to get in a game of charades. His wife would no doubt be playing games at that time.

  Willie would be playing games, too.

  Then again, so would I.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ARTHUR

  “I can barely move in here.”

  “Then we’ll just have to be close, my love.” Avalon sidled up to me, pressing herself against my chest, trying to kiss me, but I was not in the mood for frivolity. I pushed her away, a little too roughly perhaps, as she plopped down on the bottom bunk, hitting her head on the top one.

  “Bunk beds! Honestly, Avalon!”

  “It used to be a military vessel, remember?” She stayed sitting, rubbing her head, but she kept a smile on her face. Good girl.

  “It’s bad enough I will have to dress myself for the gala tonight, but we’ll also have to dress in here together. There’s barely
enough room for the trunk, let alone your petticoats.”

  “We’ll make do, my love. It’s only two nights. We can get reacquainted.” She reached out and touched me through my trousers, looking coyly up at me.

  “Maybe later. I’m going for a walk.” She moved as if she wanted to join me, but I wanted to be alone. I closed the door behind me and I wasn’t but a few steps away before I heard her start crying. Glad she waited until I left. Her emotions weren’t my responsibility, and I had grown weary of her using them to manipulate me. I made my way up to the top deck and watched the ship ascend over London. It reminded me of the first and only other time I was aboard an airship. It was the night I met Avalon. She was so beautiful and fascinated by it all. The wonder in her eyes was intoxicating. But now, she was different.

  Take off wasn’t as smooth as the first one had been back in the summer. Not used to having elite passengers on this vessel. Obviously.

  “Catherine?” I said aloud. The woman standing down the rail from me was the spitting image. Deja vu. This was just how it happened with Avalon. She had displayed such a perfect likeness to Catherine, except for the black hair. Although, I swore the resemblance to my beloved Catherine had faded in my eyes over the months. But this beauty. Every curve of her body, up to the shape of the face and the color of the hair. Red. Beautiful coppery red, just like Catherine’s. Could she be my destiny? Could this woman succeed where so many had failed?

  I moved toward her, and when I got close she turned fully to me. It was Chastity, Lady Bainbridge’s friend from the Yule Ball.

  “Good evening, Lord York.”

  “Miss Rosengarten. How very lovely to see you again.”