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

by Madeleine D'Este

  Her heart ached in her chest, seeing her father in such a vulnerable state. Here was the man who saved her from her squalid life with Charlie Drigg. A man she owed everything to. She pecked him on the bristly cheek and stood up straight, scowling into the sky towards the big black shape looming above her.

  "Scaring Melbourne with mysterious lights is one matter. But knocking out my father is simply unacceptable," she said, waving a fist in the air. "No one crosses the Caldicotts and gets away scot free."

  She raced to the controls and wrenched the lever, pulling the nose higher into the sky and towards the mysterious ship.

  "Two can play at this game."

  The balloon hissed, filling with hydrogen, coming into line with the bigger black craft. Evangeline tied the lever into place, twisting her cap and goggles into a makeshift rope. She stood up on the edge of the bench and looked across at the black gondola, gleaming menacingly. With a deep breath, she leaped out into the air, stretching out towards the other airship. This time, fingers crossed, her magnetic bracelets would connect straight away. She didn't dare think of the consequences if they failed again.

  For a brief moment, Evangeline was flying, weightless and carefree like a leaf on the wind. Every drop of fear evaporated from her body and an enormous smile spread across her face.

  Thud!

  Her bracelets connected and she jerked to a bone-rattling stop.

  "Hoorah," she said. "But... ow."

  Ignoring the pain, she pressed on, scaling up the side of the black ship with her magnetic bracelets.

  Unlike the little Caldicott dinghy, the black gondola was fully enclosed with a row of portholes along the sides. Evangeline peered inside, finding a lamp-lit room with oriental carpeted floors, flocked wing chairs and buttoned chesterfields. Only the whiskey and the pipes were missing. This dismissed Miss Plockton's star man theory, unless gentlemen's studies were fashionable across the universe. But the room was also deserted.

  Hauling herself across the hull and finding a door, she turned the handle and blinked with surprise as she stumbled inside. Jumping to her feet, she flattened herself against a wall, listening for signs of life. But besides the constant rumble of propellers, the ship was quiet.

  In front of her, a long passage stretched out with doors on either side. She opened the first door on her left and stepped inside the well-appointed study she'd seen through the window. She tip-toed inside to get a better look.

  "Why hello there, Missy," said a voice. "And who might you be?"

  Chapter 13

  A face poked out from one of the flocked armchairs and a man with a natty moustache stepped into the light.

  "Don't you know it's rude to drop in uninvited?" he said, smiling widely, with the sparkle of a single gold incisor. "Although I'm mighty impressed. That was quite an entrance. What have you got there? Magnets on your wrists?"

  The man wore a leather waistcoat over his plain white shirt and his accent was not English. He wasn't French either.

  "Cat got your tongue, Missy?" He blew a plume of cigar smoke into the air.

  "Who are you?" Evangeline said. "Why did you ram my dirigible?"

  "I asked first," he said, folding his arms.

  Evangeline stood up to her full height. "Miss Evangeline Caldicott."

  "Caldicott? Caldicott?" The man hooted with laughter and slapped his knee. "Caldicott. I should have known it was him snooping around. Where is the old fool?"

  "How dare you speak of my father in that way?"

  "Where is he?"

  The man inched towards her. Evangeline glimpsed a pistol at his waistband.

  She narrowed her eyes. "What is this airship?"

  "I'm testing out a new prototype. She's pretty dang swift, ain't she? She's gonna dominate the skies."

  Of course, he was American.

  "She's the best thing I've come up with in ages. But I've had a little help with this one. A secret weapon, you might say. You like airships? You take after your father?"

  "I am his assistant." Evangeline tossed her head.

  "Perhaps you'd like to come and see the controls."

  "If you are testing out new ships, why the cloak and dagger treatment? Why is it painted black?"

  "I don't want any one stealing my ideas. The company I'm working with wanna protect their investment. And hey, a little mystery and a bit of publicity ain't such a bad thing? Did you see those headlines? Awful good fun." He clamped his cigar butt between his teeth. "In a few months, she'll be ready for production and everyone will want one. And I'll be the most famous inventor in the world. Again."

  Evangeline raised her eyebrows. There was only one famous inventor in her eyes, Professor Montague Caldicott. Her father. Until the day Evangeline takes over the mantle herself, of course.

  "Don't believe me? I'll show you. She's revolutionary," he said. "This way."

  Evangeline cautiously followed, her eyes darting left and right. Along the wall, the portholes opened out to sweeping views of the gas-lit Melbourne streets. Low shelves running underneath, stocked with leather-bound books and objet d'art. Evangeline paused, chewing her lip as a particular pear-shaped terracotta bowl caught her eye.

  "Come on. I won't bite." The man beckoned.

  "You never did tell me your name," Evangeline said as the man led through one door and then another, down the corridor.

  "The control room," he said, holding a door open for her.

  Evangeline entered a triangular room with windows on all sides. Much smaller than the bridge on the dirigible which brought her to Melbourne, there were only two chairs, bolted to the floor in front of a bank of dials and levers. One of the chairs was occupied, a pair of hands resting on the controls.

  The chair swivelled and Evangeline's jaw dropped.

  "Hello, my little street urchin. How kind of you to drop by again. You've saved me a trip."

  It was Lady Violetta Breckenridge-Rice, the Lady Alchemist and fake gold swindler, kidnapper and birthday ruiner. Of course, the terracotta vase was an aludel, the signature implement for alchemists.

  "The secret weapon," Evangeline whispered.

  Lady Breckenridge-Rice stood up, sporting a penny-brown leather coat, cinched at the waist with puffed sleeves. On her legs, blousing knee-length bloomers and tall brown boots. Evangeline nodded appreciatively, the Lady Alchemist knew how to blend fashion with practicality. She wondered whether bloomers would be appropriate attire for Professors' assistants.

  "We meet again," Evangeline said, with a little smile. Here was her chance to bring the Lady Alchemist to justice. She would not get away a second time. "I thought you were out of town."

  "I am here. I am there. Thanks to the wonders of our modern age and of course, the convenience of new airships. What do you think of her? Isn't she spectacular?"

  "Me and the Lady are a winning combination." The American draped an arm across Lady Breckenridge-Rice's shoulder.

  "It's powered by alchemy?" Evangeline frowned.

  "Of sorts. I can do more than turn boring old iron into gold," Lady Breckenridge-Rice said, swishing a hand through the air. "This ship is a little experiment. A brand new power source. Better than silly old steam. Or archaic clockwork."

  "But is it safe?" Evangeline said, narrowing her eyes.

  "What's a few explosions." The Lady shrugged.

  "We're ironing out the kinks," the American replied.

  "I don't believe you." Evangeline folded her arms.

  "And your opinion matters how? You're not going to have a chance to tell anyone." The Lady laughed. "I can't have you spoiling things a second time. This little venture will make Hank and I very rich."

  "Hank?" Evangeline gasped. "Hank Buchanan?"

  "At your service, ma'am." The American bowed, doffing an imaginary cap.

  Hank Buchanan. Her father's nemesis. The exact details were scant, but as far as Evangeline could gather, Hank stole one of her father's patents. Any mention of his name sent the Professor into apoplexy.

>   "The thief?"

  "I ain't no thief." Hank's nostrils flared. "Is Caldicott still cut up about that? Just a misunderstanding. The Amalgamaton was a dud anyway. Total flop. No one wants their meals all blended up into a drink."

  Evangeline narrowed her eyes. She was positive there was more to this story. “And where have the other two ships gone? There were three…”

  "Miles away.” Hank waved his hand. “Now if you'll kindly step this way, Missy. The Lady's right. We can't risk you opening your big mouth and telling the world our little secret. We can't have copycats spoiling our grand prize."

  "What are you going to do with me?" Evangeline gulped.

  "I haven't quite decided," Lady Breckenridge-Rice said, taking a thin cigarillo from her lips and blowing a heart-shaped ring of smoke into the air. "I have a few other experiments which could use a human subject. What do you think, Hank darling?"

  "Whatever you want, sweetie," Hank said, gold tooth gleaming.

  Evangeline's heart battered under her rib cage. She scanned the small room. There was only one door out and Hank was within arm's reach.

  "Excellent. I'm bored of frightening the people of Melbourne. Now it's time for a different type of fun."

  The Lady smirked.

  Chapter 14

  Evangeline had one option.

  She lurched out, backhanding the Lady Alchemist across the chin, the square metal edge of her bracelet clipping Lady Breckenridge-Rice across the jaw. Evangeline's new invention had multiple uses. The Lady Alchemist wailed, toppling back into the pilot's chair.

  "Well, I wasn't expecting that," Hank said, nodding. "Nice shot."

  Evangeline followed through with a kick to Hank's nether regions. The American tumbled forward, clutching his crown jewels.

  "You little..." he groaned.

  She thumped her fists on the back of his neck and he collapsed to the ground.

  Lady Breckenridge-Rice lunged forward, screeching. Her fingernails extended like claws, she grabbed hold of Evangeline's hair and flung her against the wall. Evangeline's head cracked against the wood panelling, and she stumbled in a daze, the room spinning before her eyes.

  "Get her." Hank grunted from his foetal position on the floor.

  The Lady grabbed Evangeline's hands and secured them behind her back. She writhed and wriggled but the knot was tight.

  "Now, that was extremely rude and very sneaky behaviour, young lady," the Lady said, rubbing a red welt on her chin. "Although I should have expected it from a guttersnipe like you."

  Evangeline screwed up her face, desperate to respond but spitting or swearing would only prove the Lady right. She stifled her unladylike urges and resorted to a hate-filled glare instead.

  "I have no choice but to punish you. Take her to the engine room."

  Hank staggered to his feet, groaning.

  "Is that wise?"

  "Where else?" the Lady said, hands on hips.

  With a half-shrug, Hank lifted Evangeline to her feet and pushed her back into the corridor.

  "You are putting your reputation on the line by associating with that woman," Evangeline said.

  "Thanks for your concern but I can look after myself, Missy. Sometimes you gotta take a few risks for the big pay off."

  Hank kicked aside a gold and emerald carpet revealing a trap door. He pulled on the brass ring and the door creaked open, releasing an astringent pink fog. The same shade as the smoke from the sky. With nostrils burning and throat tickling, Evangeline began to cough.

  "Get inside." Hank shoved her towards the open cavity.

  "Stop right there," said a voice. "Where are you taking my daughter, Mister Buchanan?"

  Evangeline's cough turned into a chuckle. The Professor stood by the door, a pistol in his clockwork hand and a puce egg-shaped lump on his temple.

  "Are you alright, m'dear," the Professor said softly.

  Evangeline nodded with a grin. "But very glad to see you, Father."

  "Monty. How are ya, old fella? Glad you could join the party. Long time no see," Hank said, with open arms.

  "If only you had the decency to stay away longer. You did not answer my question, Mister Buchanan."

  "Your daughter here. She's a real bobcat. She's been snooping around and making a right nuisance of herself. Then she attacked my lady companion and kicked me in the you-knows. That ain't good manners. So we're gonna teach her a lesson."

  "That's where you are wrong, Mister Buchanan." The Professor stepped forward, aiming the pistol at Hank. "You are going to unhand my daughter and come with me."

  "I've done nothing wrong," Hank said, raising his hands in the air. "It's only science, Monty. You understand."

  "Father. As we suspected, there's some type of experimental chemical engine down there," Evangeline said.

  "Nothing, eh? Illegal experiments. Endangering lives. Air highway code violations. And I'm sure Chief Inspector Pensnett will have a cavalcade of other charges to lay."

  Hank chewed his lip and then burst into a smile. "I'm going nowhere with you, Monty."

  "Watch out. Lady Breckenridge-Rice!" Evangeline shouted.

  "Who?" The Professor frowned.

  "Me." The Lady Alchemist appeared, pushing a pistol into the small of the Professor's back. "Pleased to meet you, Professor Caldicott. We've not been formally introduced but I've heard so much about you."

  "Who is this woman?"

  "Trouble," Evangeline muttered.

  The Professor put his hands into the air.

  Chapter 15

  "Enough tongue wagging. Into the engine room. Both of you." Hank shoved Evangeline towards the open trap door, knocking her to her knees.

  "And you. Your gun?" Hank turned to the Professor, palm open.

  "You're making a grave mistake, Buchanan." The Professor huffed as he handed the pistol over. "You won't get away with this."

  "But that's where you're wrong, Monty old fella. This is the big one. The lovely Lady Vi is an A1 genius, with all the right connections. We've got a desperate patron with deep pockets and an engine powerful enough to blow every other fathead right out of the sky."

  "But how does it work?"

  Hank leaned in, finger in the air. "It's simple but ingenious. I'm sure you've heard of rubidium? Combine that with a little everyday household ingredient, cheap as dirt and..."

  "Oh, do be quiet, Hank. You feckless fool." Lady Breckenridge-Rice pressed her pistol against the Professor's bulbous nose while Hank narrowed his eyes. "You Caldicotts really are awfully tedious. All of you. Now do as you're told and get inside."

  Evangeline looked through the trapdoor and down the ladder, the pink chemical cloud obscuring the floor below.

  "My hands?" she said.

  "Ah yes. We're not complete monsters." Hank smiled, loosening the restraints.

  "Ballocks," said Evangeline.

  Her father barked out a laugh.

  "Inside." Hank pointed.

  Evangeline covered her nose with her sleeve and descended down the ladder. The Professor close behind, complaining and grumbling.

  The ladder led to a humid windowless room with four clear glass barrels at the far end, each the width of three men. The barrels filled with simmering pink liquid, bubbles ominously popping and spluttering inside. A tangle of tubes, traversing in all directions, joined the barrels together and ended at two large metal boxes, with external propellers rumbling underfoot.

  The trapdoor clunked shut and a lock clicked. Evangeline climbed back up the ladder and pushed on the door.

  "Locked," she said, but raised an eyebrow. "We'll see about that."

  Inhaling deeply, exactly the way Mei taught her, she slammed her fist into the door, producing a satisfying thump. But the wood barely flexed under the force of her blow.

  Evangeline chewed her lip. "There must be another way out."

  Back down the ladder, she patrolled the room, knocking on walls and searching for any possible escape routes. But the walls seemed solid and the trapdoor t
he only exit.

  She harrumphed and slumped down next to her father on one of the metal boxes. The box hummed as power flowed from the barrels out to the propellers. Evangeline closed her eyes, her head woozy with the thick chemical scent and thin air.

  "Pensnett will be here any moment. I'm sure of it. Hundreds of people would have seen the lights from the ground." The Professor wiped his damp forehead with a handkerchief.

  "Do the police have their own dirigibles?"

  "Hmmm. They could commandeer an airship?"

  "Or wait til we crash," Evangeline said, her shoulders rounded.

  "Now, now. What's with all this glum talk? We'll find a way out of..." The Professor's words trailed off, engulfed by a hacking cough. "If only we brought the nasal protectors with us."

  "Or my parasol," Evangeline said with downturned lips. But her father did not reply, instead collapsing into another round of violent coughs.

  Evangeline tore a strip of fabric from her underskirts. "Tie this around your face, Father."

  "Stand and deliver," he said with a feeble grin, tying the material over his nose and mouth. "I always fancied myself as Dick Turpin."

  "What about your screwdriver, Father?" Evangeline perked up. "You always have your screwdriver close at hand."

  "Alas no. I distinctly remember leaving it on my workbench." The Professor let out a long sigh. "A shame. The screwdriver would have come in awfully handy."

  "Have you ever thought of converting your brass fingers into tools? Then you would never lose anything. A screwdriver, a knife, scissors..."

  "And a bottle opener!" the Professor exclaimed, slapping his tweed covered knee. "What a capital idea. We simply must get out of this predicament. This is too good an idea to waste."

  "But how, Father?" Evangeline said, her chin to her chest.

  "There must be some way. We can't let some ruddy American get the better of us."

  Evangeline smiled wanly. She wished she had her father's confidence but her head was swimming. Her usual optimism was running low. Perhaps it was the sweltering heat or the cloying chemicals, but she could not see a way out of this quagmire.