Of Steel and Steam: A Limited Edition Anthology

by Pauline Creeden

  “Daddy?” She tried to lick her dry lips. “Is that you?”

  A muffled reply came, and she settled into a deep sleep.

  When she awakened again, her housekeeper fussed over her. Hattie opened her too-heavy eyelids and blinked. Her housekeeper leaned over her, sponging her forehead and muttering under her breath about the sickness and how it’d taken too many people lately. Then, she drifted off to sleep.

  When she awakened again, she recognized Leo sitting in a chair, his chin on his chest in sleep. A low candle provided just enough light for her to see him by, and for her to realize that she remained in her nightdress with no bindings. Hattie pulled the covers beneath her chin, hoping he hadn’t seen the slope of her shoulders or the slight rise of her breasts beneath the fabric. The motion left her exhausted, and too tired to worry about her true identity being revealed, she fell asleep.

  The voices came to her sometime the next day, the room bright with what sunlight came through the dusty window. “I’m afraid I have to leave for Britain on the morrow. Should Henry recover, I don’t want him to think I abandoned him. I’ve left notes for when he’s strong enough to resume experiments. I understand that it has taken others many weeks to cover, and I cannot be away from my duties for that long. Please have Henry write as soon as he’s well enough.”

  Leo was leaving? Hattie tossed back the blanket, only to realize that she was too exhausted to get out of bed without some assistance. She struggled back under the covers and waited until the door closed. Leo had left. She closed her eyes and realized for the first time in she didn’t know how long she didn’t have the urge to roll over and go back to sleep. Not ready to get up and do experiments again—Leo was probably right about it taking a while for her to regain her strength—but not be bedridden. Maybe some journals had arrived and she wondered just how long she’d been ill.

  “Alva,” she called, not sure her voice even carried into another room. When she didn’t receive a reply, she tried again. “Alva?”

  The scuffle of footsteps came a moment before Alva’s rounded face peered in through the door. “You’re awake. Thank the Lord. We weren’t sure you would recover.” She went to a pitcher sitting on the dresser and poured a glass of water. “Take a drink.”

  Alva held it to her lips, and much to her dismay, when she tried to reach for the glass, her hands shook. Hattie drank greedily. When she finished, she glanced toward the door. “Leo’s gone back to Britain?”

  She nodded. “He has. Worried sick over you, afraid he’d brought something like it with him. Apparently poor are dying in the streets with it. Some kind of ague.” She put the cup away and fussed. “Can you sit? What do you need?”

  “I’d like to sit, please.” She pushed the blankets back, hating just how much effort it took to raise her arm. With much help from Alva, she worked into a seated position. “Did he say anything…?” She didn’t dare voice her fears aloud.

  “About you being a woman? No. Though he helped me care for you, so I’m sure he knows. Either that or the man is blind.” She laughed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s besotted with you.”

  Heat, or maybe it was just the last remnants of her fever, crept over her cheeks. “A man like him? No. It’s not possible.” She sighed. “At least he said nothing. I heard him call me Henry.”

  “He’s most insistent that you write when you’re able. He also left his notes with you. Said that it may help with the work you’ve been doing.”

  “Thank you. How long have I been sick?”

  “For nearly a fortnight. You scared both of us. Mr. Leo is a man of science and said that as long as we helped you drink that you wouldn’t die, but I prayed every night for you.”

  “Thank you.” Hattie managed a smile. “I think I’ll just sit here for a while, but I’ll call if I need anything.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll be making a fresh pot of broth for you. I don’t think you’ll have the stomach for much else.” She bustled from the room after reassuring herself that Hattie would live.

  Hattie leaned against the headboard, listening to the clatter of carriage traffic outside. Men yelled to one another. Somewhere a child wailed. A woman laughed, the shrill notes accompanied by the deeper amusement of her partner and just for a moment Hattie gave herself into the fantasy that this could happen. She knew better. Instead, she thought about going to the other room and trying to read the journals. She managed a wobbly walk to the water closet and back, thankful that she’d tried so when Alva came in to let her know she was going home for the evening, Hattie said she could make it overnight. She slid beneath the covers and when she awakened, it was a new day with more strength. She changed her clothes and get to the other room to sit in her chair with the quilt wrapped around her like a swaddling cloth. She mustered her strength and had just finished making coffee when Alva arrived.

  “If you feel well enough, I can put some bread into your broth to help you eat more. You’re so thin.” The time in bed had taken what little excess she’d had and stripped her body down to sinews and skin. Her ribs poked out of her chest, her hip bones bony protrusions. Even if Leo had seen her as a woman she was a starved one and looked forward to the bread.

  “Would you mind bringing me the journal? I’d like to review Leo’s notes.”

  “Sure. He was such a nice young man. I’m glad he worked with you on whatever it is you’re doing.” Alva brought over the book. “I’ll bring you the broth when it’s ready. I made bread fresh this morning since you’re finally feeling better.” She returned to the kitchen.

  Hattie opened the journal. For a moment she stared at Leo’s neat, precise script, trying to remember what they’d been working on. Her mind still struggled to hold concepts, and she appreciated the warm broth when Alva brought her a mug. She sipped it, amazed at how quickly she got tired. Too soon, she set the mug on the table beside her and drifted to sleep. When she awakened, the journal was there, along with the mug, now gone cold and congealed with the bread. She drank it anyway, her body suddenly hungry for nourishment.

  She moved just enough to stoke the coals in the stove and bring the lantern light closer, then focused on the journal again. He’d continued the experiments in her absence, and when she glanced at the table, she saw the crystals and the wires were a considerable distance further. Like her, he noted the time, as exact measurements as he could get, and magical measurements she couldn’t decipher such as strength and spells. Outside of her own limited knowledge, his seemed considerable, and she wished he’d remained so they could speak about them at length. Instead, she focused on reading his journals, slowly and thoroughly. By the time the sun rose and Alva arrived, she’d moved to her desk and was composing a letter, frustrated because her penmanship was so shaky. She didn’t want him to think she was a poor scholar, though she feared he’d have that opinion, anyway. She also refused to mention the discovery of her gender.

  By the time she finished the letter it was close to noon and after another meal of bread and broth, she napped, awakening feeling much better and began a letter to Edward and then her benefactor in New York. She asked Alva for an accounting of what supplies she had, and when Alva returned with a very short list, she wrote out what she’d like to have, including more tea, and sent Alva to the market. The work tired her, and by the time Alva had given her more broth, this time with chunks of softened vegetables in it, she dismissed her housekeeper and said she’d be going straight to bed. Tomorrow, she’d look at the experiment and see if she could recreate it on her own.

  Chapter 5

  Three days of trying to recreate Leo’s experiments, none of them using the ecfreno spell, only resulted in frustration. She’d graduated from the bread and broth back to her usual fare, which she gobbled up enthusiastically. She’d given Alva extra money for more meat and also advised her to purchase something for herself and her family due to all the extra care with her sickness. Though Alva told her it wasn’t a big deal, Hattie knew it was. She’d been ill. Very ill. An
d had finished her letter to Leo and Edward and had them posted so they’d learn of her recovery as soon as possible.

  “If my experiments worked, perhaps we could communicate like telegraph operators.” She pursed her lips and stared at the crystals, one of which now sat on a stack of crates in the room's corner. “He’d gotten that far?” She frowned and stared at his notes. According to them, he had by pushing the signal along with magic.

  Alva returned from the market to find Hattie dragging the crates into the kitchen, putting them next to the back door. She grunted as she moved the wooden boxes, still amazed at how weak her sickness had made her. She placed the wire and the crystal on top of them. Alva said nothing, just helped with the moving of the final crate, then went about working in the kitchen.

  “Thank you. If this works, you may hear telegraph sounds coming from the ear trumpet. Don’t be alarmed.”

  Alva laughed. “I’ll try not to, but it seems devilish that you could do something in there and it’d come through here without wires. Where does the sound go?”

  Hattie clapped Alva on the shoulder. “Exactly, my friend. That’s what we’re trying to find out. Where does it go and how does it end up here?” With a smile, she turned and went back to the living room. Without Leo there to help, she had to focus on her magic, and when she thought she was ready, she reached out and worked the telegraph machine. She waited, though heard nothing. “Anything?”

  Alva paused in stirring something in a big pot, the tap-tap of the spoon against the sides going quiet. “Nothing.”

  Hattie paused. Perhaps she needed another person, someone who knew how to work the telegraph while she focused on the magic. Bringing someone else into the experiments rankled. No, not yet. Not until she narrowed down exactly what Leo had been doing.

  She repeated the experiment, thinking maybe she’d overtaxed it. And yet, if Leo had the crystal on the other side of the room, moving it just a little further out of reach shouldn’t be a big deal. In frustration, she keyed in the telegraph and then sent a forceful ecfreno down the lines.

  Alva shrieked. “I heard something.”

  Force of magic affected the receipt of magic. Hattie pondered the thought as she went into the kitchen and checked the placement of the ear trumpet. “What’d you hear?”

  “Strange noises. Like a tapping?” She frowned.

  “That would be the telegraph. Thanks.” In a fit of emotion, she hugged Alva, leaving her with a bemused smile before hurrying back to the living room. “Emotion affects magic.” She jotted down her notes, and then much to her dismay, had to sit and rest for a while. Still, her mind churned. Emotion affected magic, so did that mean that she could send something across the ocean only if there was enough emotion behind it?

  Nearly a month later a large packet, including a tin of biscuits arrived from Leo. She opened it, eagerly looking forward to his letter and delighted when she saw a leather-bound journal with notes from his experiments he’d had his students working on at the London Academy. It presented an interesting thought experiment, he said, and his advanced level students were eager to take on the challenge. Leo added, he was certain they planned to use it to schedule clandestine meetings after lights out or get into mischief, but he also knew the more people working on the theories, the better the results.

  Emotion overwhelmed her. That he believed in her theories, even after most likely realizing her gender, and worked to test them overjoyed her. She supposed it was silly to be so happy to see Leo’s script, to know that he’d received and replied to her letters. A warm fluttery feeling that she’d never experienced before filled her chest. She immediately opened the tin of biscuits, ate a couple, then sat down with the notes.

  Alva found her curled up in the chair when she left for the day, letting Hattie know a fresh pot of stew was on the stove and reminding her she had tomorrow off. “Have a good night,” Hattie replied without looking up from the writing. A plan formed in her mind. Staying here and trying to send letters overseas only increased the time to get tangible results. A sense of urgency overtook her. Through clandestine copies of the Musimagium’s newspapers, reports of mages being attacked were growing. The Taney Brands seemed to increase their attacks, not just in southern Missouri and Kansas, but elsewhere. She imagined her invention being used to help warn those in the society to stay clear of dangerous areas or report movements.

  Her heart sped with excitement as she read the notes. Leo’s students were taking the experiments seriously and were doing marvelous work with it. She longed to see it in person. She had to see it in person.

  As Hattie Smythe, she knew traveling alone would prove dangerous. Henry, however, could go wherever he wanted to. The question was, when Leo saw her, would he out her secret, and had he told Edward? It didn’t matter. Getting to do these experiments in person would make them work, and if she succeeded, she’d build something that would put the magical users far ahead of their non-magical counterparts. Theories that were getting laughed at in scientific circles were becoming proven, and to think—a woman was doing it.

  Alva’s day off provided the perfect opportunity for her to make arrangements. Using a page in her notebook, she made a list of what she needed. Tomorrow the adventure would begin.

  Hattie stared at the dock filled with people awaiting loved ones on the boat. The bustle of the workers loading and unloading cargo and the boats coming and going created a din was not unlike the St. Louis rail yards. She clutched her bag tightly for within it was her notes and Leo’s, not to mention all the belongings she brought with her. She kept her head down, her hat shielding her face, and her chest tightly bound. For the duration of the ship she was “Henry” and if she heard whispers about the poor slight built young man, she ignored them.

  The boat docked and everyone queued up to disembark. She made her way through the crush of people until she could hire a carriage driver, and using one of the pound notes she’d traded Leo for to give him some US Dollars, she paid the man and settled in for a ride to the London Academy. No matter her status in the Musimagium, each Academy was open to mages from all over, and she knew she’d get a clean, safe room there.

  She fell asleep within the confines of the cab, awaking to a knock on the door when the driver stopped. “We’re here,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Hattie replied, picking up her bag and managing not to stumble down the steep stairs. She stared at the Academy, a campus of large, stone buildings that probably rivaled any university. A large building held the administration offices, where smaller buildings must be dormitories or classrooms. She followed the signs for guests, and found herself directed to an office on the first floor where a gentleman with gray hair sprouting just above his ears, took her name and information and gave her a slip of paper that said she’d rented a room. He sent her to the dormitory.

  Hattie found herself in a small room, barely big enough for a bed and a desk, with a water closet shared with the others on the floor, namely students. A set of rules including NO HORSEPLAY and NO WOMEN were posted prominently on the wall. With a wink to the latter, she set her bag down and wondered how to go about getting a message to Leo. She heard the frantic running of feet and noise outside her door as students ran down the hall. She checked her father’s pocket watch; they probably were returning from class. And sure enough, less than a quarter hour later, the same scramble occurred as the students hurried to their next subject.

  She sat on the bed and fought a wave of wistfulness. A silly emotion because she knew even with magic she couldn’t go back in time and change things. And yet, that she hadn’t been a part of this, of young people learning new things. No women had been admitted, at least not to the scientific divisions, and she’d have to remain Henry for as long as the ruse lasted. Speaking of which, she used the quiet to hurry to the water closet, then went back to the administration building to see how to get a message to Leo.

  By following the signs pointing toward faculty, she found herself in a small antechamber with
a young man at least five years younger than she. “Do you assist the Professor?” She asked, stumbling by almost showing their too much familiarity.

  “I do, sir. He’s in class but I can take a message.”

  “Please let him know that H. Smythe is here.” Reluctantly, she left her room number.

  “The professor usually works late in his lab. If you can wait an hour for him to finish lecture, you’ll find him there. I can give you directions.”

  “Thank you.” She accepted the directions to his lab and returned to her room.

  An hour later, she stood outside the door to a moderate-sized stone building. From inside the talk of students and instructors came, though most of it were on things of which she had no knowledge. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked.

  A young man with light blond hair and startling blue eyes answered the door. “Can I help you? We’re working right now?” He looked her up and down, a frown on his face as if she were too insignificant to have interrupted their work.

  Undaunted she stated her mission. “The gentleman in the Professor Calshire’s office told me I could find him here. I’m a scientific acquaintance of his from America.”

  At her use of the word “scientific” the young man’s demeanor changed. “I’ll get him—”

  “Hat—Henry! Is that you? My gods, man, you should have told me you were coming.” Leo rushed to the door and clasped Hattie on the shoulders. “Come in. Come in. See what we’re doing with your theories.”