"Who's there?" she demanded. "Speak up. Now."
But no one replied.
This was ridiculous. Evangeline was no child, she was seventeen years old. She had escaped her evil stepfather, travelled half way across the world and evaded the bobbies more times than she'd like to admit. She was preparing to face the feared monster of Yarra Park. She was not afraid of a noise, no matter how inconceivable.
Taking hold of the steel rod, she took a gas-lamp from the work bench and began to investigate. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; the trunks, the benches, the dressers and the lump under the tarpaulin, all as they should be. Footsteps clumped on the floorboards above her head, her family walking about on the ground floor. She wondered if her absence had been noticed.
Again, a rustle of fabric and a jangle of metal.
She gulped, her mind rushing to dark and silly places. Could it be ghosts, rattling their chains?
Evangeline remembered, there was a source of dark energy in the laboratory-workshop, she had seen it with her own eyes.
It was the day her father lent her the atervis detector. Another of the Professor's inventions and a type of telescope, the atervis detector displayed any traces of dark energy with a silver aura. Evangeline had peered around the workshop and to her surprise, saw something glowing from one of the trunks. But the Professor closed the lid and shooed her away before she could get to the bottom of it.
Evangeline took a deep, character-building breath and moved towards the sound.
It was coming from the secret project.
The tarpaulin was moving.
She froze, watching the writhing under the oilcloth. The object moved, bulging up and down, in and out. Tied down with locks, the object could not move forward. What was her father's secret project? What could he possibly be building? She gulped as a batty idea flew into her head. Was it alive?
Evangeline inched forward, her steel rod held aloft, her heart galloping. She was determined to expose whatever lay beneath the covering. But she was so engrossed in the rustling object, she failed to hear the turning of the key in the lock. The door opened and her father's heavy boot steps clumped down the stairs. Holding a lamp, Evangeline was bathed in light and he instantly saw her, his face turning purple before a word escaped from his mouth.
"It's moving." She pointed.
"Out. Out now," he bellowed.
"It was an accident, Father. You unintentionally locked me inside. I called out but you didn't hear me."
"Out!"
The steel rod still in her hand, Evangeline grabbed a reel of copper wire and a battered leather apron, before scurrying up the stairs and away from her father's wrath.
Evangeline swished past Miss Plockton in the hallway. The afternoon had turned chilly and Miss Plockton had an ivory shawl draped across her shoulders. Evangeline was struck by an idea.
"What is going on?" Miss Plockton scowled. "What do you have there?"
"Oh, I am helping Father with one of his inventions."
Miss Plockton stared back with disbelieving eyes.
"Your father sounded rather cross. I hope you weren't interfering. Some secrets are best left alone."
It was not the first time Evangeline wondered whether Miss Plockton could see through walls.
"Clarence is broken. You know how he loves that clock," Evangeline said, ignoring Miss Plockton's spooky intuition. "Actually, Miss Plockton, as a matter of fact, I was looking for you."
"Teatime isnae for another few hours, Miss Evangeline."
"Not that. Are you busy right now, Miss Plockton? I was hoping you could teach me how to knit?"
Chapter 12
"Is Miss Caldicott at home?"
A male voice carried down the hallway from the front door. At the sound of her name, Evangeline jumped from her chair and crouched by the doorway for a better eavesdropping position.
"Whom may I say is calling?" Miss Plockton said primly.
"Here is my calling card. Mr. Albion Middlehall."
"Wait here, Mr. Middlehall. I shall see if Miss Caldicott is receiving visitors."
Evangeline scampered back to her place on the overstuffed armchair, knitting needles in hand. Albion Middlehall here to see her? What could he possibly want?
"There is a gentleman here to visit you, Miss Evangeline," Miss Plockton tutted.
"Who is it, Miss Plockton?" Evangeline said with all the innocence she could muster.
"Mr. Middlehall. I doubt your father would approve of young gentlemen calling. But your father isnae home to ask. Or your uncles."
"Never mind. Send him away. I am busy here." Evangeline held up a lumpy brown square of woollen stitches.
"But I presume he is one of those Middlehalls."
"Why does everyone keep asking this?"
"It would be terribly rude to turn him away. I shall set up tea in the parlour and personally chaperone his visit. Wait here until I collect you."
Evangeline rolled her eyes and turned back to her stitches.
There was a flurry of activity as Miss Plockton marched up and down the hallway, three or four times from the parlour to the kitchen and back again.
"We are ready for you now, Miss Evangeline," she said.
"Can I bring my knitting? I've almost got the hang of it."
"Please behave, Miss Evangeline." Miss Plockton exhaled.
Entering the parlour empty-handed, Evangeline found Albion gazing out through the lace curtains, his hands neatly folded behind his back.
"This is a pleasant surprise, Mr. Middlehall," Evangeline said.
He smiled brightly under his bushy eyebrows.
"I was in the area and hoped you would be accepting company. May I say what a lovely home you have, Miss Caldicott."
"Yes, isn't it?" Evangeline said with all truthfulness. She was grateful every day for her new home, her memories of her previous lodgings in dank, dark squats were still fresh in her mind. "Please, take a seat."
Evangeline sat down on the red velvet settee and Albion took one of the ornately carved armchairs. Miss Plockton, like a sentry, was stationed discreetly by the door.
The room settled into an awkward silence. The mantelpiece clock ticked loudly and nothing was said. Evangeline glanced about the parlour, tapping her fingers on her lap, waiting for Albion to say something.
Miss Plockton politely cleared her throat and broke the silence.
"Perhaps Mr. Middlehall would care for some tea, Miss Evangeline?"
"Tea. Tea. Oh, of course." Evangeline jumped to her feet, glad for something to do. "Sugar?"
Evangeline picked up the intricately engraved silver teapot from the spindly-legged table and poured. As she watched the tea swish around the delicate cups, she was struck with a brilliant idea, an automatic clockwork tea-making machine. This device would be revolutionary, imagine the thousands of hours saved across the British Empire for more productive pursuits. No more waiting for tardy service, piping hot tea would be available at exactly your preferred time. Evangeline was certain even Miss Plockton would be pleased with such a labour-saving device.
"Two please."
Evangeline filed her idea away for another time and measured out two lumps with the silver tongs.
"Why thank you." Albion took the saucer from her hand and Evangeline offered him a plate of ginger snaps.
"These are awfully good," she said, taking one herself and crunching away merrily.
"Apologies for my imposition, Miss Caldicott. I hope you don't mind but I came specifically to hear more about your experience by the Yarra. We were interrupted and did not finish our conversation at the Ball. You mentioned seeing the Bunyip? What was it like? Only if revisiting the ordeal is not too traumatic?"
Miss Plockton shuffled in her seat, but Evangeline ignored her disapproving wriggle. Miss Plockton had forced Albion upon her, this gave her no recourse to control the conversation.
"Yes, it was truly horrid. I can't stop thinking of that poor man, screaming as he was dragged into the river by the creature."
"You were awfully brave, Miss Caldicott. And have you thought much about how you are going to capture him? Mr. Rippingale said you were an inventress too. Are you building something?"
"He talked about me?" she tittered, feeling giddy all of a sudden. "What else did Mr. Rippingale say about me? What were his exact words?"
"He said you were taking after your father," Albion said with a perplexed look.
Evangeline fanned her face and then remembered Miss Plockton, seated in the corner of the room. If Miss Plockton caught wind of the Bunyip wager, Evangeline could say goodbye to any adventures.
Evangeline shrugged at Albion.
"Perhaps he misheard you? Ripples can be a bit muddleheaded."
"Not quite," Evangeline mumbled.
Albion's brow furrowed, his thick eyebrows threatening to take over his whole face. Evangeline jerked her head towards Miss Plockton.
"Sorry, Miss Caldicott. I am confused. Are you an inventress?"
She widened her eyes and tried to surreptitiously point towards the door and more importantly, Miss Plockton.
"I don't understand." Albion shrugged.
Evangeline sighed, she had obviously overestimated Albion's intelligence. Lucky, he was rich.
"I thought you agreed to be part of the..." He started.
Suddenly Evangeline stood up, knocking over the spindly-legged table, splashing hot tea into Albion's lap. He jumped to his feet with a yowl, pulling the hot wet fabric away from his unmentionables.
"I am so sorry. So incredibly clumsy. A cloth, please, Miss Plockton?"
Miss Plockton was already half way down the hallway.
Clarence the grandfather clock chimed four times, the Westminster bells echoing down the stairs. The Professor must have replaced the missing bolt inside Evangeline's pocket.
"Is that the time? I must be off," Albion said hurriedly, pulling his own solid gold pocket watch from his waistcoat. "Thank you for the tea, Miss Caldicott."
"I am sorry. I didn't mean for..."
"No need to apologise. It was an accident. I really must be going. It was delightful to see you again. May I enquire if you will be attending the Soldier's Benefit?"
"Another one so soon? Sounds absolutely awful... "
"Awfully exciting. Of course she will," interjected Miss Plockton, cloth in hand.
"Excellent. I look forward to seeing you there and perhaps you will reward me with a dance." Evangeline nodded and Albion pressed his lips against her outstretched hand. "I can see myself out."
The front door closed and Evangeline grabbed two more ginger snaps. This batch was terribly scrumptious.
"Now, Miss Evangeline." Miss Plockton narrowed her eyes and began stacking the tea tray, snatching the plate of biscuits away before Evangeline could take another.
"It was an accident!" she lied with a mouthful of ginger snap.
"I dinnae know what you are up to, but..." Miss Plockton said.
"It was truly an accident, Miss Plockton. Me and my butterfingers," Evangeline said, turning to leave the room. "I must get back to my knitting."
"God sees all, Miss Evangeline."
Evangeline felt a shiver down her back under Miss Plockton's icy glare. It wasn't only God who saw all at 56 Collins Street. Evangeline would have to be more careful.
Chapter 13
Escaping Miss Plockton's glower, Evangeline ran up to the privacy of her bedroom. She sat on her bed with the cricket stump sized needles from Miss Plockton's sewing basket and the spool of copper wire, all ready to start knitting a Bunyip-catching net.
Evangeline's mother taught her to knit many years ago, together they knit squares from red wool scraps by the kitchen hearth. But like the memories of her long-gone mother, her memories of knitting had faded. Luckily Miss Plockton was a knitting virtuoso, and after a few pointers and lumpy false starts, Evangeline's fingers quickly remembered the basics.
She cast on and mastered the first rows, her tongue jutting out of her mouth in concentration. The copper wire was hard and quickly gouged a red divot into her ring finger. With gritted teeth, she kept knitting and eventually picked up speed. She tingled with excitement as the net began to grow and another of her inventions came to fruition. With this new device, she would save innocent lives, win £600 and show Melbourne what an inventress was capable of.
Within the hour, she was threading magnets through the copper wire net and casting off. She begrudgingly acknowledged her needlecraft lessons were not completely useless after all.
With her little hand saw, she nervously sliced the steel tube in two, fearing her grinding would be heard by the acoustically gifted Miss Plockton. She fed the net into one tube and put the other aside, turning to the battered leather apron. She laid the apron on the floor, cutting out an oblong shape, before slashing the leather and inserting the steel rods. She connected the rods with spools of copper wire and for the finishing touch, she added a pair of boot laces.
Evangeline held out the device and admired her own handiwork. Portable, powerful and practical, her new invention was ready to test in the field. A touch too utilitarian for her tastes, perhaps a decorative rivet or two would make it more aesthetically pleasing.
"What shall I call you?" she said, but then the triangle chimed for tea and Evangeline put aside her invention for a well-earned break, hopefully with crumpets.
"Afternoon, Father," Evangeline said as she entered the dining room and pecked her father's bristly cheek. "I hear Clarence is in full voice again. You managed to fix him?"
Her father grunted and unravelled the evening's edition of The Herald. Evangeline shrugged her shoulders and sipped her tea. Then all of a sudden, the Professor's face brightened like the sun coming from behind a cloud.
"By Jove. The old fellow's done it!" he exclaimed. "The man works miracles."
The Professor turned around the front page for Evangeline to see "BUNYIP KILLED" in big bold letters.
"The Bunyip didn't stand a chance with old Wilby on the case." The Professor grinned.
"Knickers," Evangeline muttered under her breath.
"Did you say something, my dear?"
"Thank heavens," Evangeline said loudly, but inside she deflated. Wilby had beat her to the monster and her afternoon's endeavours had been futile. Luckily, there were crumpets and honey on the table, so the afternoon was not a complete loss.
Her belly filled with comforting crumpets, Evangeline slumped back upstairs to her bedroom. Closing the door, she kicked aside the oriental rug beside her bed and pressed the short floorboard. The house at 56 Collins Street was built with secrets in the walls. The enigmatic house perfectly suited the Caldicotts, who brought their own fair share of secrets with them.
Evangeline pulled the brass telegraph key from the hiding place under the floor. Last week Evangeline added her own innovative component to the telegraph key, an alphabetised typewriter keyboard. So much more convenient than silly old Morse Code.
"Are you there?" Evangeline's fingers flew across the keys.
"You must have heard the news," Mei replied.
"Wilby beat us to it."
"At least, it's dead." Mei tapped back. "No more deaths."
"Yes," replied Evangeline. She knew it was selfish and all that mattered was the culling of the beast but she wished she'd been the one. She glanced across the room at her new contraption, ready to go but no monster to catch. "I finished my new contraption and everything. Such a shame."
"To be honest, I wasn't keen on facing the Bunyip but the reward would have been nice."
"I guess our meeting is off. I'll try to sneak out tomorrow. You promised to teach me more of the tiger moves."
"Let's go out by the Yarra anyway. We haven't gone for a late night stroll in ages," Mei replied. "And I have something to show you."
"We could test the device. It may come in handy for a future endeavour. Same time?"
"In the laneway."
"Don't forget the bangers. It's always cathartic to blow some
thing up."
Chapter 14
Unlike Mei, Evangeline's family had not resorted to locking her bedroom window, so she slipped out and down the drainpipe once again. Hitting the ground with barely a sound, she hurried across the courtyard, past the privy and through the back door.
Mei was waiting for her in the laneway, with a smug look on her face. A forest green vehicle stood beside her, with one small wheel at the front and two large wheels at the back, a red and gold sign with 'Fang's Fine Laundering' swinging from the rear.
"Like it? We got it last week for deliveries. We won't have to walk." Mei grinned. "Queen Victoria owns one exactly like it."
"Can you really imagine the Queen riding a tricycle?" Evangeline said.
The girls giggled.
"Jump on." Evangeline slipped into the velocipede seat behind Mei. "Where's your invention?"
"Here." Evangeline gestured to her forearm wrapped in brown leather, steel rods running down her arm.
"That?"
"I call it my beast catcher."
"Nifty."
"Not only for Bunyips. It was inspired by the vicious parasol, with a few alterations." Evangeline pointed to her parasol, strapped to her back like an archer's quiver. "Did you bring the bangers?"
Mei pointed to a paper sack on the seat next to Evangeline. She inched gingerly away, ensuring a gap between herself and the explosives.
Mei stepped on the pedals and off they went. Both girls shuddering and jolting as the tricycle bounced over the cobblestoned laneway. Evangeline winced with every bump, glancing with a grimace at the bag of fireworks beside her.
Mei steered the tricycle out into Spring Street, passing the horses and cabs and down towards Flinders Street. An auto-chariot hooned by, noisily overtaking the tricycle with its eight stampeding clockwork legs. The fresh autumnal wind blew through their hair and Evangeline began to tell Mei the story of the mysterious movement in her father's laboratory-workshop.
"There's something alive down there."
The Antics of Evangeline: Collection 1: Mystery and Mayhem in steampunk Melbourne Page 12
