Viridis - A Steampunk Romance

by Calista Taylor

  Despite her anger, her frustration and the fact that she was barely keeping herself upright, Phoebe couldn’t quite keep her lip from curling up in a smile. He’d be mistaken to think it for humor, though. “Fine. Here you are then.” She grabbed her shirt with two hands and yanked, the few buttons keeping the shirt together, coming loose with little effort. She tossed him the shirt, and he caught it, his eyes widening, his face blushing crimson.

  Stubborn, was she? Infuriating? Unreasonable? “Hmpf!” While Seth stared at her, frozen in place, she undid her breeches, and wriggled out of them.

  “Phoebe.” He pleaded with her.

  She tossed him the breeches, so he stood there holding her pile of clothes. “Burn them, then!”

  “Phoebe, this is insane.”

  Insane, was it? Another one for her list. Completely naked, she spun toward her around her wardrobe. She took all of two steps when Seth pulled her around into his arms and kissed her in a most thorough manner— not to say she returned his affections. He slowly pulled away, and looked at her.

  She raised an eyebrow in question. “Are you done then?”

  A smile split his face ear to ear, his laugh barely contained, leaving her more than a little confused. “Did you know, I had completely forgotten how ye get when you’re not feeling well. Och, love, and here I was trying to reason with ye. Come, let’s get you into some warm clothes and back into bed.”

  Her head spun, leaving her dizzy on her feet. The room was suddenly hot and stuffy, and a fine dew broke out on her skin, even though it was covered in gooseflesh. Seth was at her wardrobe rummaging around for anything resembling a nightgown, finally returning victorious, garment in hand.

  “You’ll catch your death standing here naked like that. Look at you. You’re all chilled.” He had her dressed and in bed in a matter of minutes, buried under the covers, his naked body pressed up against her for warmth.

  Her body temperature continued to fluctuate wildly, from hot and sweating to freezing cold and unable to get warm. Her throat ached so much it was difficult to swallow— no doubt aided to its current condition by all the yelling she had just done.

  Seth smoothed her hair down and nestled her close with her head tucked under her chin. “How are you doing, my love? Gavin offered to pick a few things up the apothecary and should be here soon enough. Hopefully, he’ll have something that will get you back on the mend, aye?”

  “Hmpf. I was wondering where the sneaky bastard had gotten off to.” She felt Seth’s body start to shake. “Are you laughing?”

  “I’m sorry, love. He told me about locking the door. You must admit, it is rather funny.”

  “Funny?” She spun in his arms to face him in disbelief. “The one thing it was not, was funny.”

  “Och now, ye must admit, it is just a wee bit. No?” He started trailing kisses across her face.

  “No.” Yet each gentle touch of his lips melted away a bit of her anger, replacing it with an overwhelming relief that he had come back to her safe and sound— if only for now. “The man’s a bully and a brute.”

  “Aye, maybe. But he’s also loyal and caring, especially where you’re concerned. It’s for those exact reasons I knew he’d be capable of taking care of you in my absence and making sure you were kept safe. I lesser man would not have managed it.”

  Her eyes burned from the fever, but she opened them to look into his face. “You will marry me, won’t you?”

  “Aye, love, there’s nothing I want more.” She knew it would have to do for now. He kissed her, then settled her head back on his shoulder. “You should try and get some rest.”

  Sleep would be a wonderful if it weren’t for the dreams. They had been getting more severe with the fever. However, her head was dizzy with fatigue, and she knew, she’d not be able to stay awake much longer.

  “I don’t want to sleep, Seth.” But already her eyes were half closed as sleep pulled her under into a dark abyss of ice cold cells, a hangman’s noose and Victor’s hands sliding over her naked body.

  Chapter Forty Five

  The cold had dissipated overnight, a warm breeze trailing in from the south. A thick fog had settled close to the ground, and the warm temperatures had left the roads and walkways covered with streams and lakes of dirty water from the melting snow and ice. William’s shoes, and socks, not to mention the hem of his pants were soaked through, the lack of visibility leaving him unable to avoid most of the puddles in his path. He hoped it was not a sign of how the rest of his day would go.

  At the offices where Special Services was housed, William waited for someone to arrive so he could discuss the most recent developments in Niles’s case. His previous requests for information and help had been ignored, but he was hoping they would not deny him if he came in person, especially with Lord Victor Fenwick’s potential involvement, and the possibility that Niles had been passing on SS secrets to the Cause.

  “Inspector William Thomas? Alexander Barnes.” The man coming through the door extended his hand to William, giving it a good shake. Of average height, Barnes looked to be in his forties, with a lean, muscular frame. His chestnut hair, cropped just above the collar was starting to go grey at the temples. “How can I be of assistance?”

  William had his pad and pencil out, ready to ask his questions. “Are you familiar with a Lord Niles Hawthorne?” At Barnes’s acknowledgement, he continued. “I’m given to understand he worked for you in an effort to gain information on the Cause.”

  Barnes tilted his head, his deep brown eyes giving away nothing but the intelligence behind them. “He did.”

  Up until now, William only had his suspicions about Niles’s involvements, and it felt good to get confirmation. Now if he could only get Barnes to confirm the rest. “Were you also behind his attempt to steal Lady Hughes formulations for her herbals?” William had the satisfaction of seeing one eyebrow shoot up in question.

  “Was he successful in his attempts?”

  William ignored the question. “Did you know Lord Hawthorne had an information module that contained a list of agents he thought were working on infiltrating the Cause?”

  Barnes’s eyes went wide, if only for the slightest of moments. “How did you gain access to that information?”

  Looking back at Barnes, he said, “I do not see why that matters.”

  Barnes pounded his fist against the desk, making everything on it jump. “It matters as a point of national security. I cannot risk having our modules infiltrated. Who helped you, for surely you did not accomplish it on your own?”

  William kept his eyes locked on Barnes, but said not a word.

  Barnes sat back in his chair, his hands steepled before him as he eyed William as if for the first time. “Perhaps we can help each other? After all, the list of people who could accomplish such a task is relatively short, and most are already known to us. However, I’d like to know for sure. They could be a valuable asset, you see.”

  “Yes, I believe I do.” All too clearly.

  Chapter Forty Six

  The horrible tasting herbal Gavin had brought Phoebe seemed to have eliminated her fever once Seth had managed to get it down her gullet. Her throat was still fairly sore, but it did not hinder her in going about her day.

  Having assured himself she was no longer feverish, Seth had left with Gavin to find the parts needed to start building the tinkering he had shown her the designs for— his proof that he’d be staying in London. With the designs complete, he would start the construction of the prototype model— if he were able to get the parts necessary. She knew that, in all likelihood, they would need to be manufactured to his specifications. Luckily, Edinburgh had become a tinkerer’s haven since the war, and was less than a day’s airship ride away with cargo ships making regular deliveries. Whatever Seth could not locate in London, she was sure the Tinkerer’s Guild in Edinburgh would be able to produce and ship with little difficulty. Perhaps they could even take a small trip there in the future.

  She was hea
ding to her laboratory when she saw the files for Martha and Sarah lying on the side table. She’d been loathe to look into the matter, not wanting to believe that one of her maids had betrayed her, though she knew she was only putting off the inevitable. Sighing, she took the files over to the chair by the fire and resolved to finally deal with the issue, despite the fact she would rather be oblivious to the situation and tinkering away happily in her lab.

  Aside from the basic information and letters of reference for both maids, Phoebe was relieved she didn’t find anything in their files that might incriminate them.

  She probably should write to each of the ladies that had employed them, asking for further information about each girl, though she dreaded having to do it. She glanced at the names and addresses. For Martha, a Mrs. Forrester from Newcastle. For Sarah, a Lady Isoble Johnston, who lived not terribly far from her own home.

  Phoebe headed to her lab. The bay of windows showed off the surprisingly bright day. After the frigid dreariness of the last few weeks, the warmth that now danced in on golden waves of sunlight was a welcome change. She sat at her desk and quickly composed the two letters, then decided to walk to Lady Isobel’s residence and take advantage of the beautiful weather before the fickle weather saw fit to interfere.

  Mrs. Forrester’s letter would get dropped in the post and go by aethergram, an amazing tinkering that duplicated an image of the letter and then sent it over the aether, the image reforming upon arrival at the post closest to its destination.

  Letters in hand, she called on Martha for help getting dressed to go out. The dress she chose was one comfortable enough to walk in but nice enough to pay a visit, in the off chance Lady Johnston invited her in. Martha quickly brushed her hair, taming the curls by pinning them away from her face and up off the nape of her neck.

  Martha helped her into her coat, saying, “Are you sure you’re well enough to be going out, Mum? And you sick in bed with a temperature just last night, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  “It’s a beautiful day, and one we’re not likely to see again soon. I’d hate to miss the opportunity, and a bit of fresh air will do me good.” Phoebe slid on her calfskin gloves, then picked up her letters and headed for the door.

  “Will you not take Samuel with ye? Just in case you take to feeling poorly.”

  Phoebe could see Martha was genuinely worried for her, so she agreed to take Samuel along, if for no other reason than to ease her mind.

  Phoebe watched as Samuel shrugged into his coat. The garment, though clean, was looking mighty threadbare. Perhaps a few new articles of clothing could be added to his current wardrobe— something more appropriate to his new position of footman. She smiled at him. “Are you ready, Samuel?”

  Returning her smile, he said, “After you, Mum.”

  Chapter Forty Seven

  “There he is.” Seth motioned towards Moore, who was holed up in the corner of the ale house.

  Gavin made his way across the room, his wide shoulders and height parting the crowd and leaving a path for Seth to follow. Being this close to the docks around lunchtime had the place hopping with customers, most of which would just as soon stick a knife in you than look at you. With Gavin in his kilted plaid and the war not twenty years old, it was a good thing he was familiar enough with a good many of the men here. Otherwise they’d have probably ended up dead, or tossed onto a ship as slave labor, bound for far distant shores.

  Making it to Moore’s table, they pulled a couple of chairs and sat down. Moore gave them a tilt of the head in welcome. “Good of ye to make it.”

  Gavin caught the serving girl’s attention, getting them a couple pints of cider and a couple of steak and kidney pies. Turning his attention back to Moore, he said, “Have ye any more information on when the crates will be ready for transport and how many of them they’ll be? Ye’ll also need to arrange to have the crates picked up well outside London as I ain’t keen on having myself arrested with that sort of cargo. Understood?”

  “Aye, it is. We’ve a supplier that’ll have the crates docked at Inverness once they’re ready. There should be thirty crates, give or take, but it could still be another few weeks before they’re ready.”

  Gavin started to say something, then shut his mouth as the pies and cider were placed on their table. Giving the pretty girl a smile, he said, “Thank ye, love.”

  The girl smiled back, batting her eyelashes at him in as coy a manner as she could manage. “You’ll let me know if y’ need anything else?”

  “Will do, lass.”

  Seth couldn’t help but smile and shake his head. Like bees to honey.

  Seth and Gavin had figured out an arrangement to minimize the danger of Secret Services finding out about the shipment of weapons Gavin would be transporting for the Cause. Getting back to the matter at hand, Seth took a long draw on his pint, before saying, “Gavin will leave me details of the exact location, and when the time comes, I’ll let you know, but not before hand. Understood? The Cause has been infiltrated by far too many who’d be happy to see it all come tumbling down like a house of cards.”

  “You worry yourself needlessly, boy. We know who those people are and they only get what information we want them to have. Even that inspector that came sniffing ‘round here the other day, left with no more than he had come with. ” Moore sat forward leaning an elbow on the table. “If there’s a problem, we take care of it. Dinna waste your time dwelling over things that ain’t your concern. Your time is much better spent with what ye do best, aye?”

  Seth did not need to wonder how Moore would eliminate any problems. It was all too easy to drop a body in the Thames at the right time of day and have the current carry it out to sea, no one the wiser. And when dealing with the man, Seth was smart enough to not forget it either.

  Gavin ate a few forkfuls of pie before continuing. “Ye’ll need to have the payment taken care of as I willna handle any of the funds for the transaction. And I needna ken what’s in the crates either, aye?” Moore nodded in agreement, and Gavin continued. “Ye’ll also need to pay my expenses. It’ll be my only charge, but I need to ask for payment if only to make this a proper transaction, for that’s all this is. Nothing more than business. I’m in no way contributing to yer cause, aye? I’ll nae be charged with aiding a revolution.”

  “Understood. I’ll let ye know once I have the details. Until then.” Moore stood and tipped his hat. “Gentlemen.”

  They watched as Moore’s lithe form disappeared into the throng of people. Gavin shifted to the seat Moore just vacated so he was now sitting across from Seth. “Ye ken I support the Cause wholeheartedly, but that man makes me itch like a dog with fleas. I dinna ken what it is about him, but I dinna like him one bit.”

  Seth nodded. “I know what you mean, and Clarke’s no better. It was smart of you to keep it strictly business, aye? The less you know the better.”

  “I willna argue with you there, a charaid.”

  Chapter Forty Eight

  After dispatching the aethergram to Martha’s former employer, Phoebe decided it was too close to luncheon to call on Lady Johnston, especially since they’d be arriving unannounced. Instead she and Samuel paid a visit to Phoebe’s seamstress, where Phoebe informed her, with a pang in her heart, that there was no longer the need to rush things along. While there, she had Samuel’s measurements taken for a new winter coat and wardrobe.

  Samuel was standing in the small storefront, his arms out at his sides as her seamstress took measurements. “Really, Mum, ‘tis not necessary. I’ve all the clothes I need.”

  Phoebe smiled at him. She knew he would be too proud to take the clothes if she thought he needed them and could not afford them, so she chose her words carefully. “I know, dear. However, with all the work you’ve been doing around the house, I’d hate for you to ruin your own clothing, catching it on a nail or staining it with soot. It’s only a couple of everyday items. A warm winter coat too, seeing as the weather’s been unseasonably cold and you’re
constantly out and about running errands for me or the girls.”

  Finished with her measurements, the seamstress stood and had Phoebe select the fabrics. “I’ll have the garments sent over as soon as they’re completed. Would ye like to see your dress now? ‘Tis nearly finished.”

  “I appreciate all you’ve done and in such little time,” Phoebe said, taking a deep breath to try and stave off the flood of emotions. “The wedding has been postponed. I’m sorry to have rushed you for nothing.” She looked down, blinking away the tears.

  “Och, dearie, these things happen. Don’t be worrying yourself over a little delay. Let me go and get the dress. I’m hoping you’ll like it.”

  The seamstress went to the back room and returned moments later with the dress cradled in her arms. It was beautiful. The ivory silk caught the light with a golden glow, the corseted bodice bejeweled with seed pearls and embroidered with golden thread that seemed to shine from within, the bustled skirt adorned with a trail of bows down the train. Phoebe couldn’t help but reach out and touch it, the silk soft as a baby’s downy cheek.

  “I do hope it’s to yer liking. I’ve only to finish the buttons down the back.” She turned the gown so Phoebe could see the area in question.

  “I’ve never seen a gown more magnificent. Thank you,” she said, battling a fresh wave of tears.

  She hadn’t expected that seeing the gown would have such an effect on her, but it solidified, in her head and heart, the fact that she and Seth would not be getting married come Sunday.

  The bright sun and fresh air were exactly what she needed to regain control of her emotions, and by the time they had exited the shop and walked down the street, she was feeling much better, despite the worried glances Samuel was throwing her way.