“Much better,” he said. “Perhaps I won’t have to order another box of teapots.”
When it appeared that I really was getting a break this time, I thought it might be an opportune time to bring up what Alec had asked me. “Some of the Mechanics are back in town. I ran into Alec in the park today.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Even after that narrow escape?”
“They believe that was more about the machines.” I tried to think of how best to phrase the next part. While I wanted to be honest with him, I preferred to steer him in the most reasonable direction. “They’ve taken what you said about playing at revolution to heart and are trying to plan rather than just making noise. They believe their machines really are the edge they need to defeat the magisters, but they need to make more machines, and for that they need funding. They asked me if you had any ideas.” I didn’t feel it too dishonest to avoid mentioning them wanting money from the Bandits. If Henry thought of that, it was up to him.
“Mass production of machines like that? Do they know how much that would cost?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I suppose they could start with some existing machines and fit them for new power supplies, so they wouldn’t have to start with smelting iron, but still, the materials, the facilities, and the manpower—well, they’re essentially creating a new industry. They wanted my input on this? Why? Because I’m the only rich person they know?”
Now I had no choice but to tell him. “Because you lead the Masked Bandits and have already been funding the cause, to some extent.” Before he could say anything, I hurried to add, “I told him that robbing trains wouldn’t raise that kind of money without you taking huge risks, and you’re lying low to avoid suspicion for now. He understood, but he wanted to see if you had other ideas.”
He stirred the teapot, poured through a strainer into two cups, added sugar, and handed one to me before taking a sip from his own cup. “You’re right, even my biggest heist ever wouldn’t have been enough to raise that kind of money. What they need are investors, but that’s difficult when their activities are counter to the interests of most of those who have money.”
Although he’d agreed with me, I felt deflated by his pessimism. “So there’s no hope?”
“I didn’t say that.” He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “There have to be some people with money who are committed to—or at least interested in—the idea of revolution. It’s not just my friends and me.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Given the rate of taxation in the colonies, a lot of property owners might think a break with the Empire would be good for them, whether or not they also want to overthrow the class system. And there are some wealthy and influential nonmagisters who are held back by their nonmagical status. But I don’t know if they’d be open to allying with the Rebel Mechanics.”
“I think they’ll have to,” I said after mulling it over for a moment. “The only way a revolution could succeed is if there’s one revolution, not a magister revolution and a Mechanics revolution. Defeating the Empire is so big a task, it will take all of us working together.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked me square in the eyes. Without his glasses blurring them, they were an intriguing mix of shades of blue, and the sight brought me back to the moment we’d first met, when he’d robbed the train I was on. I’d later recognized him by his eyes. “We need to rally the people we know are interested and get them to recruit others. It may take time to gradually grow our organization, and in the meantime, we can ask for funds even before we ask people to make public declarations.” He shook his head, smiling slightly. “I wonder if there’s a way to sound people out without risking my neck. Who might have rebel leanings, and how could we tell?”
I took a sip of my tea, letting the sweetness restore some of the energy I’d spent using magic. “The military may be a fertile ground for recruiting. Consider the general—what does he think about being considered a lesser race by people who put so much responsibility on him?”
“I never thought of that.”
“That’s because you were brought up as a magister. You don’t know what it’s like for the rest of us.”
He smiled ruefully. “I suppose I’ve been too busy thinking about how limited my options were to consider that there were those who had even fewer choices in life, regardless of their abilities.”
“That’s why we’re doing this, isn’t it? So everyone can make the most of themselves without artificial limits.”
He looked at me in a way that made me feel quite naked, in spite of the many layers of clothing I wore. “And how must you feel, having to hide what you are when you have so much power? It’s not just us, is it? You can’t tell your Mechanic friends, either.”
“They’re coming to accept you—or at least your help—so perhaps one day they’ll look beyond their view that power is inevitably a corrupting force. For now, though, I’m afraid you’re right. They wouldn’t look kindly upon me if they knew I was even a half-magister.”
“Then if I need to remember why I’m doing this, why our cause is just and important, I’ll think of you, Verity.”
The intensity of his gaze might have burned away at least one layer of clothing if it had been sustained for long. I got to my feet so hastily that I wobbled slightly. I hurried to steady myself before he noticed and offered me any assistance. I was afraid that his touch would be more than I could bear at the moment. “I—I really should be—” I stammered.
“Yes, quite,” he said as he jumped to his feet. He stumbled as he took a step forward, barely catching himself on the corner of his desk. “Good evening, Miss Newton. Pleasant dreams.”
“And you, too, Lord Henry.” I placed my tea cup on his desk rather than hand it to him and risk any accidental touch between us.
I forced myself to walk serenely to my room rather than running headlong down the hall the way I wanted to. What had just happened? He’d acted nearly as flustered as I’d felt. For a moment, I let myself revel in the warm glow that thought engendered, but I reminded myself that it hardly mattered. The world really would have to change for it to be even remotely possible.
It occurred to me as I took down my hair and brushed it out that I somehow seemed to have become a rallying figure for two different rebel movements. My status caught between worlds was motivating Henry’s fight for freedom, and as my newspaper alter ego, Liberty Jones, I was such a symbol of the Rebel Mechanics that there was an airship named after me—well, sort of. That was rather astonishing for a mousy, bookish governess.
Instead of going to bed, I wrote an article on the plan to produce more machines and the need for funding, proposing that patriotic citizens collect pennies in a Liberty Jar for the cause. I feared that would raise morale more than it did money, but I thought it might be easier to get wealthy magisters to contribute if they thought the Mechanics were doing their part, as well.
The only way we had a prayer of winning our freedom was if both sides could overcome their prejudices and work as one. It was a nice thing to envision, but was it remotely possible?
Chapter Three
In Which
an Unsuitable
Attachment Forms
The next afternoon, I was leaving my room to accompany Flora on a round of social calls when Henry approached me. “Could you do me a favor, Miss Newton? I’d like you to leave these for me on your calls,” he said, handing me several calling cards and a list. I felt the tingle of magic in the cards and imagined they contained more information than his name, title, and address.
“Your messages to potential investors?” I concluded.
We went down the stairs, speaking softly. “Some of them. If we’re ever to reach our maximum impact, we’ll need to start quietly enough that it goes unnoticed, and working in these circles will require us to be very careful. One false step, and word may get to the wrong people at the highest levels.” His eyes glittered,
and I knew he’d found a new dare to replace train robbery. “You dropping off calling cards for me shouldn’t look at all suspicious.”
“Don’t you have magical means of communicating?”
“None that are truly secure. It goes to the home rather than to an individual.”
Flora joined us in the foyer. She swept down the front steps toward the waiting carriage with me in her wake. Although we were nearly the same age, I felt worlds apart from her. She was bright and glittering, the kind of girl everyone noticed, while I was the sort of girl no one noticed. We had very little in common for conversation, as she talked of little but dresses and balls, and my circumstances didn’t lead to those things being important parts of my life. I had attended one ball, and only as a chaperone. I doubted Flora would much care for talk of revolution, and I knew she disliked discussing books.
She took the forward-facing seat in the carriage, and I sat across from her, where even though she looked directly at me she pretended not to see me. I tried not to react to her obvious snobbishness. If Henry had seen it, he would have scolded her, and that would only have made her dislike me more.
When the carriage stopped at our first destination, she finally acknowledged my presence. “You are merely here for propriety, remember,” she snapped. “Do not embarrass me. Henry may be casual with you, but I remember your real place.”
“Yes, Lady Flora,” I said as meekly as I could bear to.
The footman handed her down and earned a scowl from her by also helping me. He ignored her scowl, probably because he remembered who his employer was and what he would want. I gave him a nod of thanks before following Flora up the steps to a grand mansion just a few blocks down Fifth Avenue from our home.
We’d barely made it into the parlor before we were assailed by a cloud of lace. Lady Charity Spencer made Flora look somber and serious in comparison. “Oh, Flora!” she cried, grabbing Flora’s hands in greeting. “How good of you to come! And such good timing, too! I was just saying I wanted to take a turn around the park! We can all go together! Your governess can chaperone us!” Everything she said came out as an exclamation of utmost importance.
“A turn around the park?” Flora said, with some dismay. If Flora had thought she could get away with it, she would have had litter bearers carry her across the room.
“Oh, please, please say yes!”
Even Flora was helpless against Lady Charity. “I suppose so,” she said weakly.
“Oh! You are the dearest friend! Let me get my hat and gloves!” A maid materialized at her side with hat, gloves, and coat, and soon had her ready to go out. I followed dutifully.
Once we were in the park, Lady Charity appeared to go on high alert, darting her eyes back and forth and sometimes straining her neck as though trying to see into the distance. At the same time, she kept up a rather loud chatter to Flora, twirled her parasol, and walked with dainty, mincing steps. I had to fall back to trail the girls so I could muffle my snickers. I knew exactly what was happening here. Lady Charity’s behavior was a slightly more ostentatious version of the way I used to act when I hoped to encounter Alec in the park.
Flora arrived at the same conclusion. “You’re hoping to meet a boy, aren’t you?” she said.
Lady Charity swatted her lightly on the arm and gave a trill of shrill laughter. “Whatever gives you that impression?”
“You’re acting like a silly goose. You might get his attention, but you won’t impress him.”
“You don’t even know who he is. He might be impressed.”
“No, he won’t. But why did you have to sneak around and drag me and my chaperone into your schemes? Charity, he isn’t some entirely unsuitable boy, is he?”
I swallowed a groan of dismay. My primary duty as chaperone was making it impossible for magister children to mix with nonmagical people—they didn’t want the talent extending beyond a certain class. Did that duty apply to those outside my employer’s family? I was afraid it did, if my presence meant that both girls were considered properly chaperoned. But did that mean I had the authority to intervene? At least it sounded like Flora might support me if I had to.
I sincerely hoped Lady Charity didn’t run into the object of her affection. Alas, a small magical roadster slowed as it approached us. “Why, Lady Charity,” the driver said with a bow. “What a pleasure to see you out this fine day.”
Charity glowed so brightly we could have lit the library with her. “Oh! Mr. Brightley! This is a surprise!”
I relaxed ever so slightly. If he drove a magical roadster, there was a very good chance he was a magister, himself. They could be driven by people who didn’t have power, but few nonmagisters could afford such a thing.
Flora cleared her throat, and Lady Charity said, “Oh! Lady Flora Lyndon, may I introduce my friend, Mr. Brightley? Mr. Brightley, this is my friend, Lady Flora.”
He tipped his hat at Flora and gave her a slight bow. “Charmed to make your acquaintance, my lady.” I noticed that I apparently didn’t merit an introduction.
“Whatever are you doing out today?” Lady Charity asked, giving her parasol a twirl.
He frowned slightly. “I thought I told you I’d planned to go driving this afternoon.”
Lady Charity reddened. “Oh! I suppose you did.”
Now I had to wonder if he esteemed her as much as she did him, or was he truly so dense that he didn’t realize she’d arranged to encounter him?
Flora took her friend by the arm and addressed Mr. Brightley. “It was a pleasure to meet you, but we really must resume our walk if we’re to make it home in time for tea.”
He bowed and touched his hat again before driving off. As soon as his roadster had rounded a bend out of sight, and presumably out of earshot, Flora whirled on her friend. “Oh, Charity,” she said, sighing rather than giving the audible exclamation point Charity gave the word “Oh.” “How could you even consider him? He doesn’t have a title. His father doesn’t have a title. There’s no chance that he’ll ever inherit a title. Your father would never approve.”
“Which is why I have to resort to subterfuge in order to meet him,” Lady Charity said, heading down the path in a way that I might have considered “stalking off” if she hadn’t been taking such dainty steps. “He’s so much more interesting than any of the titled men I know. Would you have me set my cap for someone like your uncle?”
I was glad I was behind them because I stumbled at her words. I tried not to think of it often, but I knew that Henry would be limited in his choice of wife, and I would never qualify, not unless we founded a new nation with fewer restrictions. This was the kind of girl he was likely to end up with, which might explain some of his revolutionary ardor, I thought, rather uncharitably.
Before I could mire myself in self-pity, we encountered another gentleman on the path, this one on foot. He tipped his hat and bowed to us, but I was the one he addressed. “Good afternoon, Miss Newton,” Colin said.
While I hadn’t been sure of the etiquette regarding a magister who wasn’t nobility, I knew for certain that Colin was exactly the sort of man who was entirely unsuitable for interaction with these girls. Not only was he not a magister, but he was an immigrant from the lower echelon of society and a member of the Rebel Mechanics who would likely have had a warrant out for his arrest if the authorities knew his name and face.
Fortunately, he wasn’t playing the rebel role today. While he’d never pass for a noble in his present attire, he also wasn’t wearing the mixed-up rag bag assortment of clothing that was practically a uniform among the Mechanics, he didn’t have brass goggles perching on his hatband, and he wasn’t displaying the Mechanics’ infamous red ribbon and gear insignia. Instead, he looked like a slightly shabby young working man in a secondhand suit that didn’t quite fit him.
I imagined that my duty would be to throw myself in between him and the girls, but all I really had to do was prevent them from doing anything that might ruin them for a proper marriage or result in mag
ister children of the wrong class. That seemed highly unlikely to occur in the park in broad daylight, so I decided there was no harm in being polite. “Good afternoon, Colin—Mr. Flynn,” I said, barely remembering his surname.
I turned to Flora, who, as the ranking lady present, was the one to whom introductions were made. I cringed inwardly at the snobby rudeness I expected. She’d be mortified if I dared introduce her to such a person, but I considered this to be my stand for equality, and even if she reported me to Henry, Henry wouldn’t care.
But instead of making every effort to pretend she didn’t see Colin, Flora stared at him in something that looked suspiciously like awe. Surely she’d seen a working-class man up close before, so I couldn’t understand her reaction. Was it his red hair that so startled her? I cleared my throat. “Um, Lady Flora and Lady Charity, may I present Mr. Flynn? His sister is one of my dear friends. He’s an engineering student at the university. Colin, this is Lady Flora Lyndon, one of my pupils, and her friend, Lady Charity Spencer.”
I was truly surprised when it took the ever-glib Colin several seconds to respond. He finally jolted himself out of a daze, swept his hat off, and executed a dramatic bow. “Your servant, ladies.” The deep bow seemed to have improved the flow of blood to his brain, and soon he was more like his normal self. “Ver—Miss Newton, you never told me you had such a lovely pupil.” He turned to Flora and added with a grin, “All she said was how brilliant you are.”
I’d never said any such thing. Flora was actually quite resistant to being taught anything that might be useful. She thought that was beneath her, that her position in society was enough to make her worthy. I expected her to give me one of her frightful icy glares, but she turned a fetching shade of delicate pink and fluttered her eyelashes. “I’m sure she says nothing of the sort. I’m a very indifferent pupil who must sorely tax her patience. If I learn anything at all, it is due to Miss Newton’s diligent efforts.”
Rebel Magisters Page 3
