The Antics of Evangeline: Collection 1: Mystery and Mayhem in steampunk Melbourne

by Madeleine D'Este

  "Oh, Miss Plockton. Strawberries and cream!"

  She wrapped her arms around Miss Plockton's waist. Miss Plockton disentangled from Evangeline's embrace with the hint of a smile and ducked out of the room without a word.

  Finally alone in her own castle, Evangeline retrieved her own battered suitcase from under the bed and unlatched the locks. It was time to work on her own device. She unfolded the rivet extracting pliers from her dress pocket and laid out her invention on the desk. She needed to finish her contraption post-haste. It may come in handy when capturing the alchemist.

  She grinned, imagining how pleased her family would be when she captured the magician. The Professor would forget all about his misgivings once she saved the day.

  Life was not so boring at 56 Collins Street after all.

  Chapter 5

  The next day Evangeline woke early, determined to complete her construction before breakfast. She was screwing in the last bolt when she heard the wailing of a grown man outside her door. She hid away her half-finished invention, before running excitedly from her desk to see what the kerfuffle was all about.

  The howl was coming from Uncle Augie's bedroom. The door flung open and Evangeline's not-real Uncle rushed into the hallway in his stocking feet, his round face distorted in anguish.

  "No," he cried.

  Evangeline picked up her skirts and rushed towards him.

  Augie was clutching something in his palm.

  "Where is he?" Evangeline darted into Augie's chambers, expecting to see a burglar or some ruffian. She checked behind the door but there was no one there. She peeked under the feather bed but there was nothing to be seen, not even dust. It was even clear under the writing desk. The room was empty.

  There was one last possible hiding place in Augie's room. Evangeline crept up, placed her hand on the brass handles and flung open the wardrobe doors, but all she found were starched white shirts. She came back out into the hallway, disappointedly.

  "It's ruined. His birthday is ruined," Augie wailed.

  Miss Plockton suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs in her ghostly way. She seemed to be everywhere at once in the grand house on Collins Street.

  "Have you taken ill, Mr Beauchamp?" she said with her soft Scottish burr in her harsh Scottish face.

  "It cost me a month's wages and now look."

  Augie pried open his fingers. He held a dull grey metal pocket watch in his soft skinned palm.

  Evangeline and Miss Plockton crowded around for a closer look. Tears were rolling down Augie's bare cheeks. Evangeline had purloined many pocket watches in her time and she had never seen one made of such basic metal. The front was etched in decorative scrolls, inscribed with the name 'Edmund Caldicott'. In contrast, the face was of the highest quality, white and clean. The numbers clear and strong.

  "Is it made of iron?" Evangeline said.

  Iron was most certainly not to Augie's taste.

  "What is this sorcery?" he wailed. "Edmund's birthday is on Friday. I cannot give him this!"

  Augie tossed the iron watch aside, striking the wainscoting with a clatter. Evangeline scurried to pick it up. It did appear to be iron. Miss Plockton peered over Evangeline's shoulder, touching the watch gingerly with her finger.

  "It was gold! I ordered it from Hart's. It was beautiful. He was going to be so handsome with it displayed from his waistcoat."

  "Did they swap it without your knowledge?"

  "I collected it the day before yesterday and packed it away myself. I was preparing to wrap it in this lovely grosgrain paper, when I saw it had gone from gold to grey!"

  Evangeline nodded. Gold could not dull in this way overnight.

  "The alchemist."

  "I am calling the police!"

  Uncle Augie stormed off down the stairs in his stocking feet, almost slipping on the oak stairs.

  Another reason to find the alchemist. He should not be allowed to continue in Melbourne. Evangeline vowed she would catch the charlatan for Edmund and Augie. He would pay for ruining her Uncle's birthday.

  Chapter 6

  At 56 Collins Street, the household breakfasted in the conservatory, overlooking the garden. The once lush greenery was now brown and crisp around the edges like the toast on the table. Even the Professor's wind-up automatic watering system could not save the periwinkles, Queen Anne's lace and snap dragons from the harsh weather.

  All alone at the breakfast table, Evangeline snacked on thin toast and tea, leaving plenty of room for Faversham's cream cake. Perusing the headlines of The Argus, she read of the construction of the grand new Exhibition Building and vowed to take a stroll to Carlton Gardens to inspect it for herself. But her sight-seeing must wait, she was far too busy for such a leisurely pursuit while the alchemist was still at large.

  "Taking an interest in current events? Very good," said Uncle Edmund. Augie followed closely behind in a particularly stylish sea-green ascot.

  "But a young lady can know too much." Augie yanked the paper away from Evangeline, handing it to Edmund.

  Edmund rolled his eyes at Evangeline and she giggled into her tea cup.

  Miss Plockton appeared with a fresh pot and a plate of smoked kippers. Evangeline took her cue to leave. She did not want to waste any more time this morning, her carpet bag was packed ready to go.

  "Join me in the sitting room, Miss Evangeline," Miss Plockton said. "We can resume our household accounts lesson."

  "But I have an appointment," Evangeline stuttered.

  "What did we discuss last night?" Miss Plockton said with thin white lips. "About leaving the house unescorted?"

  Miss Plockton would spoil everything. How could she capture the alchemist with a chaperone in tow?

  "With Mei. For tea," Evangeline blurted, instantly regretting her words. She should have taken her time to construct a better alibi.

  "I must concur with Miss Plockton," Uncle Augie said. "Young ladies cannot go gallivanting around Melbourne unaccompanied, Miss Evangeline."

  Now Augie was ruining her plans too. Augie could be such a bore sometimes, a stickler for tradition and etiquette. It was 1882 in the Antipodes, surely people no longer cared about such things.

  Evangeline closed her mouth, unable to think of a truthful plea in her defence. Augie would not understand that she was determined to avenge the wrongdoing, seeking amends for Edmund's ruined birthday watch. Augie would be grateful once she apprehended the swindler. But if she told the truth now, she would not be permitted to leave 56 Collins Street.

  She glanced at Edmund for support but he was too engrossed in The Argus.

  Evangeline was stuck. Mei would have to visit the goldsmith's alone. But would Mei go without the bribe of cream-filled chocolate puffs? This was Evangeline's adventure after all.

  "Now, where could you find a suitable escort?" Augie's eyes twinkled. "I may know someone who is available this morning."

  Stay home or go out with Augie in tow? It was an easy choice. She and Mei could easily slip away from her uncle in the bustling streets. He would also pay for the tea.

  "Miss Plockton, I'll gladly chaperone Miss Caldicott and Miss Fang today."

  "Oh, Uncle Augie. You're the best." Evangeline wrapped her arms around her uncle.

  "That's what they say," he replied.

  Chapter 7

  Mei emerged through her front gate in a pale green dress. Her glossy black hair piled up in a fashionable chignon, rather than her usual pigtail. She grimaced as Evangeline smiled appreciatively.

  "Miss Fang, you have met my Uncle August before?" Evangeline jumped in before any stray word from Mei gave away their plans. "Uncle Augie will be accompanying us this morning."

  "Mister Beauchamp." Mei extended her hand.

  Augie bowed in a flamboyant flourish and placed his lips on her gloved hands.

  "A pleasure to see you again, Miss Fang," he said. "Your dress is the most delightful hue. It does wonders for your eyes. You are quite the vision."

  Mei blushed as
she pulled her hand back.

  A dappled grey horse and carriage clopped to a stop alongside the house.

  "I called a hansom cab. The weather is far too beastly for promenading."

  "I thought we could catch the steam tram?" Evangeline suggested.

  "Don't let your father hear you mention the tram." Augie shuddered. "You know how he feels about this whole steam fad. At any rate, a hansom cab is far more elegant. Who wants to be squeezed in with all the riffraff?"

  Augie offered his hand, assisting Evangeline and Mei into the narrow cab. The three squeezed into the seat, the cover pulled up to shield their pale faces from the sun.

  "Where to, sir?" the driver asked.

  "Snodgrass & Sons," Evangeline said.

  "The farming supplier?" said Augie. "Is Snodgrass the new place for young ladies to congregate? I must be behind the times."

  "Oh no, Uncle, Mei needs to run an errand for her mother."

  "The life of trade! How practical," Augie said and stroked his chin. "Actually Edmund could do with a new pair of riding boots. Yes, an excellent birthday gift. After what happened this morning..."

  "I'll explain later," Evangeline whispered to Mei as the horse and cab took off down the cobbled street.

  The cab passed the gentrified homes of Upper Collins Street, until the houses gave way to trading establishments, shops and the new banks with their grand sandstone arches. Two children in ragged trousers juggled on the corner of Elizabeth Street. Evangeline's heart leapt. Theirs was a life Evangeline knew well, filled with fleas, empty bellies and backhanders. She rummaged in her purse for a coin, to share some of her good fortune and stop them filching coins from unsuspecting passers-by. But the cab was travelling too fast and they swept past the boy and girl. Evangeline looked back helplessly as the people walked by, ignoring their tricks. Her new life was a world away from the streets but the memories were still fresh.

  Snodgrass & Sons stood majestically on the corner of William and Bourke Street, taking over an entire city block. Under the wide verandah, the store front was piled high with silver buckets, sacks of seed and saddles. Shop assistants in navy striped aprons darted in and out, balancing brown paper parcels in their arms before loading up waiting traps and cabs. Sturdy farming folk fresh off the train streamed into the store or wandered dangerously into traffic, discombobulated by the busy city.

  Evangeline, Mei and Augie stepped down from their hansom cab and a red-haired boy stopped to stare open mouthed at Mei.

  "Boo!" Mei said, and the young boy scattered away to hide behind his mother's skirts.

  "Oh, these people are rather rustic, aren't they?"

  Augie looked down his nose at the ruddy farmer's wives with their wide bosoms and Sunday best hats.

  They fought their way through a crowd outside, gathering to watch a demonstration of the latest pneumatic plough. Plumes of steam billowed into the air as the machine jerked into action.

  "The finest new invention from Bavaria. The deepest furrows of any machine available in the world. And quick! An acre an hour." The salesman bellowed over the roar of the plough. "Your crop yields will sequentially improve exponentially. The rosiest tomatoes, the plumpest pumpkins, the tallest wheat..."

  Evangeline, Mei and Uncle Augie entered Snodgrass & Sons through the large grand doors.

  "Why are we 'ere?" Mei whispered.

  "This is the place in Melbourne where an alchemist could buy their apparatus."

  "I thought it was magical? Why not the Theosophist Store?"

  "The Professor told me that they use everyday items. We're looking for something called an aludel."

  "A what? I thought you said everyday items?"

  The girls squeezed through the shopping crowds, easily eluding Uncle Augie, trapped behind a rotund family.

  "This way."

  Evangeline pointed to a sign hanging from the ceiling by a chain. 'Brewer's Wares'.

  "May I help you, young ladies?" said an older man in a crisp striped apron, with a broom-like moustache accenting the uppity expression on his face. "A gift for your father, perhaps?"

  "Indeed," Evangeline responded in her poshest accent. "My father's birthday next week. He is interested in an aludel."

  "An aludel. Are you sure?"

  "Quite sure."

  "Perhaps he meant a ladle and you misheard."

  His smile dripped with condescension.

  "No. I remember quite distinctly," Evangeline tutted haughtily. "Perhaps they have aludels at Clunbury & Daughter."

  Evangeline turned on her heel to leave.

  "Oh, aludel. Of course," he said. "Let me check whether we have any in stock."

  The snooty man rushed back to the long wooden counter and whispered in the ear of a round balding man. Bored by the lack of action, Mei strayed from the Brewer's Wares and inspected the array of rifles mounted on the wall.

  "My apologies, Miss..." said the bald man, as he approached. He had the wettest lips Evangeline had ever seen.

  "Prendegast. Miss Gwendoline Prendegast."

  "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Prendegast. I am Mr Bletchley. Now, this is an odd kettle of fish. We receive very few requests for aludels. In fact, we have never had aludels in stock before. Until last month when a customer ordered one specifically. It was a tall terracotta specimen imported all the way from the Occident."

  "Excellent. I shall take one."

  "Unfortunately, Miss. We are out of stock at this present moment. I can order one for you. It can be here within two or three months."

  Evangeline pouted.

  "But I need it for Father's birthday. He will be so disappointed."

  "We have some very handsome hip flasks? They are a perfect present for a father."

  "That will never do. Father is a teetotaller."

  "Your father sounds a practical gentleman. Perhaps one of our new shaving devices. Straight from the workshop of the famed inventor, Hank Buchanan of Buffalo, New York."

  Evangeline winced as Mr Bletchley gestured towards a device which looked more suited to medieval torture than facial grooming. There was a brass cage for resting the chin with six cut-throat blades on a revolving barrel on each side. The Professor would detonate with rage if Evangeline brought a Hank Buchanan device anywhere near the house. There was some story about a stolen idea which Evangeline had yet to hear all the details.

  "No. No. Oh, what am I going to do?" Evangeline sniffed, taking her handkerchief from her purse and daintily dabbing at her eyes.

  Mr Bletchley and the snooty man shuffled awkwardly.

  "We are most terribly sorry, Miss Prendegast."

  Evangeline dried her fake tears.

  "Perhaps you can help me. By chance would your customer want to sell me their aludel? For the right price?"

  "That is possible."

  "Yes, perhaps." The men nodded.

  "I remember the customer quite distinctly. He appeared to be a high-minded gentleman." Mr Bletchley nodded. "Impressive grey whiskers..."

  "You are very much mistaken, Mr Bletchley," said the snooty man. "I'm certain the customer was a lady. Tall and thin with jet black hair."

  "You are the one who is mistaken. I would most definitely remember a female customer."

  Evangeline deflated. The men were obviously victims of the alchemist's glamour. She was getting so close, yet the alchemist was slipping through her fingers again.

  "I'll prove it to you."

  Mr Bletchley sneered at his colleague before scurrying back to the counter and returning with a large ledger book. He opened the book. Evangeline leaned forward, memorising the names of the Melbourne residents who had been buying brewing supplies. One never knew when this type of information may come in handy.

  "Here."

  Mr Bletchley jabbed a stubby finger at a messily scrawled entry.

  "I can't read it. What does it say?"

  Evangeline peered closer. The writing was like a knotted thread.

  "Ergh." Mr Bletchley flustered. "I think..."
/>
  "Whose handwriting is that? I don't recognise it."

  "I was sure I served the gentleman." Mr Bletchley scratched his head.

  The name was an ink blot but part of the address was legible.

  "Wellington Parade, East Melbourne?" Evangeline said.

  "That appears correct but I can't decipher the house number."

  Evangeline squinted. Neither could she. Was it 57 or 81?

  "Why thank you, gentlemen. My mother will be wondering where I am."

  She stepped away, as the two shop assistants continued to bicker about the aludel buyer.

  "It was a woman. I am certain of it."

  "You must be going mad. It was most definitely a man..."

  One thing was certain. The alchemist knew how to create a glamour. Evangeline was excited to have seized one vital yet incomplete piece of information.

  Chapter 8

  Evangeline took another detour before seeking out Mei, locating the 'Clock Mechanics' department. Small woven baskets of differing sized cogs, nuts and springs, in warm brass and dull iron, lined the aisles. She searched until she found a basket of six-inch brass springs. She pushed the springs between her palms as hard as she could to test their strength. Satisfied, she selected four springs.

  "An unusual purchase for a young lady. Are you shopping for your father?"

  "No," Evangeline said. "This type of spring is ideal for...er... creating the perfect ringlet. It's in all the fashionable papers. I don't suppose you have the time to read The Girl's Own Paper."

  The perplexed shop assistant blushed and wrapped her purchases in brown paper and string. Evangeline paid with the money the Professor had given her for a new lace handkerchief. Springs were considerably more useful. The Professor would understand, eventually.

  Evangeline found Mei admiring the blade of a large hunting knife, while a shop assistant spied her curiously from a discreet distance.