Of Steel and Steam: A Limited Edition Anthology

by Pauline Creeden

  “Leo! Fire!” She screamed with her mind, putting every ounce of magic she had into it. If this were to be it, he had to carry on her work, he had to complete what she hadn’t been able to start.

  Smoke choked her lungs. Dust filled the air. She tried to keep her eyes open, tried to climb forward, the books now forgotten. Strength escaped her. A moment later, she couldn’t breathe, and her world went dark.

  “Henry! Henry!” Alva’s voice filtered through her foggy awareness, and a moment later, her housekeeper’s face swum in front of her eyes.

  Hattie blinked. She opened her mouth to speak, her lips too dry and coated with dust and ash. Turning her head, she tried to glance at her home, but the bodies of firefighters and others blocked the way. Considering the amount of smoke and the memories of the last few moments before she lost consciousness, she feared the worst. “Books,” she spat out.

  “Here. Drink. Rest.” Alva pressed a cool tin cup to Hattie’s lips and she drank greedily.

  “Easy. You took a blow to the head. We feared you might not wake up. The doc hasn’t come yet.”

  Hattie groaned and closed her eyes, the throbbing between her ears confirming Alva’s words. She savored the moisture and accepted another drink when the cool tin touched her mouth. She kept her eyes shut; it seemed to keep the pounding that much at bay.

  The crackle of flames filled the air along with the shouting of men. If she’d been out long, the entire block sounded as if it might be on fire. Against her desire to close her eyes and sleep, she looked around, realizing she was in the stone courtyard was behind her home and bordered where Alva lived. She turned her head and the great black charred mass of her home brought a cry to her lip.

  Gone. It was all gone. She tried to reconcile the black beams rising into nothingness, the second storey above her toppled forward, almost as if it’d fallen into the street.

  “We pulled you from the back. You’re lucky. Had you reached the front door, the entire building might have fallen on you. As it was, just some floor above that fell on you.” Alva’s soft words punctuated her grief. “Don’t cry, Henry. You can stay with us until you get a new place. Some drunk at the boarding house on the corner fell asleep and knocked over his lamp. It took out the block before the firefighters could arrive. I’m sorry.”

  She struggled to take in all the information. The loss rendered her mute. She could replace belongings. She could even have another telegraph and more quartz sent to her if her large stones couldn’t be salvaged. No doubt the Musimagium would help, and as soon as Edward and Leo heard about the fire, they’d do what they could. Still, the setback hurt. And so soon after her returned. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say that she probably should have stayed in Britain.

  “It’ll be okay. You have your life. God provides the rest.” Alva patted her shoulder. “I need to check on others.”

  Others? Her head swum for a moment and then she remembered the boarding house on the corner, plus the small domiciles like hers, mostly inhabited by single individuals or couples.

  Feeling stronger, she sat up and reached around to touch the back of her head. A large bump marked where she’d been hit, and she winced as she touched it. A quick examination showed singe marks on her sleeves and pants. Looking at the building, her heart sank. From the boarding house on the corner all the way to her home and the family next to her, were burnt piles of debris. She recognized her bed and dresser, the mirror black and cracked. The metal of her stove rose into space, and she almost made out where she’d fallen. Perhaps if she searched in the ashes, she might find something.

  Alva didn’t appear to be returning soon.

  Hattie struggled to her feet, wobbling as the pounding in her head increased. She leaned against a brick wall, pressing the side of her face against the cool stone. When she felt stronger, she staggered forward. People gave her a wide berth as she made her way to the nearest telegraph station. She had to send messages. She reached into her pockets, only to remember she didn’t have any money. She hoped the Musimagium had an account there and didn’t mind her messaging England. She had to let Leo know what had happened.

  Chapter 8

  Within days of the fire a representative of the Musimagium offered to help her find a new place to live. She thanked him, though Alva said she could stay there in the meantime. She heard from her representative in New York that he could have another telegraph machine arrive within the month, and she’d been able to scavenge her quartz from the fire. She’d also been able to save some books that’d been beneath her and one of Leo’s journals. It was his return cable though that boosted her spirits.

  Glad to hear you’re safe. I heard about the fire. Letter forthcoming.

  He’d heard about the fire. That meant that—what? In her fear she’d called out to him, and he’d heard? Without the benefit of a telegraph machine or crystals, she doubted it could be part of her experiment. In fact, she’d convinced herself that he’d heard from the telegraph, not from her. And yet, any other scientific colleague who had lost everything in a fire wouldn’t warrant anything more than a passing expression of condolences. Perhaps his students had come to more conclusions about the experiments they’d been doing. She chafed at the idea that it’d take her weeks, if not months to put together the equipment and an experiment space to continue her work.

  Some people hadn’t been so lucky. Two people in the boarding house had lost their lives, as did the older gentleman who lived next to her. She helped Alva as she could around the house, eager to get out again and get back to her studies. She examined the charred books, reading what she could and rewriting what she couldn’t quite make out. When a member of the Musimagium showed up with a heavy-appearing bag, she met him in the courtyard, quiet this time of day.

  “Mr. Smythe?” He said, extending his hand. “I’m Professor Dawes from Melody. I understand that you were doing some exciting experiments with sending messages with magic and telegraph?”

  Hattie shook it. “I was, yes.” She detailed her experiments to him, wondering exactly where this conversation was going. She watched as his expression grew more interested, and she detailed the work being done with Leo and his students. Truly, they’d advanced her work far more than anything she’d done.

  “Interesting. We’ve used something like this to send messages a short distance, but mostly we rely on runners at Melody and among officials. There’s the worry those with the abilities could decode that anything sent by magic, and as I’m sure you can imagine, there are plenty of students eager to get into mischief at Melody.”

  She smiled, remembering some conversations she’d overheard at London. “Yes, we’ve found that when we get beyond a courtyard or campus that the messages go awry. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were being caught by others of ability, even unwittingly. You’re aware telegraph signals aren’t secure either. So whatever communications we create, it would be as secure as the telegraph. For now, committing something to paper and sending it with a trusted courier is probably the best for confidential matters.”

  “Would you like to continue your experiments at Melody? We have a large building set up for magical experiments, and students who would be eager to help. I feel this could be useful.”

  “If you’ll excuse me asking, how did you hear about my work? It’s obscure. I’d say unknown more likely.”

  “A young telegraph operator named George mentioned the transmissions that an H. Smythe sent to him. It didn’t take long to track you down, Mr. Smythe. I’m surprised you’re not teaching at Melody. You seem to have an innovative mind.”

  “I’m not sure that would be possible. I work best by myself.” She hoped she sounded reassuring. Most inventors worked by themselves or with a trust colleague or two.

  “I have spoken with the scientific department at Melody and they would like to offer you room and board and use of their experimental space.”

  She stared at the gentleman, not quite believing that this dour-looking man in a dark s
uit and boots, with large, fluffy mutton chops and a mustache that dropped to his chin, was offering her something so grand.

  “I understand it’s a change and you’ve recently lost so much. If you can let us know what we may help replace for you, we’ll do our best to assist.” Professor Dawes checked his pocket watch. “I’m afraid I need to go to catch a train. I’m headed to Chicago, but I wished to stop and make you the offer. I hope you’ll think about it.”

  “I will. Thank you.” She rose and shook his hand, then watched him go. He’d offered her what she’d always wanted, and yet, she hesitated.

  That night over dinner, Hattie talked to Alva about the offer. “They want me to go to Melody and work with them. If I do, there’s a chance they’ll find out.”

  Alva smiled. “And if you don’t, dear, then you’ll never fulfill what you’ve always wanted to do. Let the future sort itself out. Who knows? Things are changing. I’ve heard some colleges are admitting women now. Maybe you don’t have to hide yourself for much longer.” She shared a smile with her husband, and Hattie appreciated their support. They’d kept her secret well and they didn’t have to.

  “You’re right. Maybe things will change.” Hattie paused. “But is it bad that I don’t believe that they will?”

  Alva chuckled. “You’ve got to hope, dear. That’s all we really got these days, right?” She turned and glanced at her husband with such love in her eyes Hattie wondered if anyone would ever look at her like that.

  “I suppose.” She ought to say something about having science, that careful application of study and experiments had gotten her farther than hope ever had. Except, she’d hoped that she’d be able to do this work someday, and if she had to do it in the guise of a man, well so be it. At least she was doing what she loved—but at what cost?

  No trains ran to Melody, but after reaching out to Professor Dawes, with George’s help, he arranged a carriage to pick her up at the rail station. Her bag, newly purchased, held all the salvaged journals and experimental notes that she’d been able to reclaim and both quartz crystals and a change of clothes. A shame that her entire worldly possessions fit into a single bag, and she mourned the comfortable chair and quilt in front of the fireplace where she’d used to read. If she accepted this position, she’d have to get used to a new life. One that meant being “Henry” all the time.

  She leaned back against the soft cushions in the carriage. The driver, a cheery young man, told her the trip took most of the day, though they’d stop about halfway through to let the horses rest and for her to stretch her legs if she wanted. A basket held food for their lunch. She closed her eyes, enjoying the luxury of letting someone else handle the logistics of getting her to her destination. If she took the position in Melody, she’d no doubt be tied there most of the time. However, with her salary, not to mention the funds she still had on file, she could go to Britain once or twice a year.

  Another boat trip made her queasy, and she yearned to finish her experiments and get the communication lines up and running. To talk to Leo, or even Edward, about her experiments or just scientific things would make her time at Melody so much more appealing. Impatience may be a bad trait in a scientist, and she had it in spades.

  She’d read the pages so many times she had them memorized in places. Instead, she leaned back and closed her eyes, thinking over the experiments and wondering just how to make them work even better. She must have drifted off to sleep because when she awakened the carriage pulled to a stop and the driver knocked on the door. “We’re taking a break,” he said. “I’ll bring the basket down for our meal.”

  “Thank you.” Hattie checked to be sure her bindings were still in place, and putting on her hat, opened the door and stepped down from the carriage. She quickly found a place behind some trees to relieve herself, then returned, wiping her hands on a kerchief since that was the best she could do, to see the driver setting out a hunk of cheese, along with a loaf of bread that appeared relatively fresh and some smoked meat that appeared to be pork.

  “It’s probably not what you’re used to in town, but it’s food that travels well.” The driver offered her a knife to make her sandwich.

  “This looks great, thank you.” She didn’t want to admit that she kept a kettle of stew going on her stove. Perhaps he’d think that wasn’t posh enough for a member of the Musimagium, and she wondered just how much he knew of city life. To most, the meal spread before them on the blanket appeared to be a feast. She cut generous portions, though smaller than the driver’s, and ate in silence. Reasonably full, she asked the driver to tell her about Melody since she’d never been there and he obliged, talking about the school, the large administration building that loomed over everything, even the magical way that people had of communicating between buildings.

  She perked up when she heard about that, though the driver didn’t know how it worked or even who used it, just knew that in bad weather runners didn’t have to go from the stable to the main buildings when someone needed a carriage. The message just came through.

  She asked the questions she could about how far apart the buildings were and wondered why London didn’t have any such system, considering the weather there often was drearier than in most places, or so Edward complained often. The driver didn’t know the answers to most of them.

  “Ready to get back on the road? I’d like to arrive at Melody not long after nightfall.” He stood and put the remnants of their food away in the basket.

  She helped him fold the blanket, for which he profusely thanked her. After another trip to a tree, she climbed back into the carriage, and a few moments later, the horses were in motion once more. The enclosed carriage, even with the curtains covering the window pulled back so she could look out, meant she lacked conversation. And yet, the driver’s words gave her a lot to think about. Melody appeared like some mysterious place where magic worked far more efficiently than it did in the cities. And perhaps, if that was the case, there were things she could do to help bring magic into towns. Had someone been able to immediately contact the fire department, they could have saved perhaps an entire block and lives.The fire had burned books her father had given her beyond recognition. She hadn’t been able to save so much, and as much as she cared for Alva, her friend would find employment elsewhere. Already had, really, and moving on to a new world, where perhaps she could exist as Henry, the slightly eccentric, scientist made sense. Really, no one needed to know she was Hattie—Henrietta—and if people thought her odd or reclusive, well plenty of scientists lived their lives like that. By the time the carriage arrived at Melody, she’d decided. She’d live as Henry and do her best to keep her identity a secret. That would allow her to continue doing what she loved without worrying about her sex impeding things. After all, too many men had foolish ideas of what women should do. If she wanted to live and work in their world, she needed to be one.

  Chapter 9

  Henry walked from the building, well away from the others, reserved for magical experiments, to the dining hall, her face turned up to catch a bit of the spring sunshine. So far she’d fit in well, finding several first-year students to help. Her room boasted more books than anything, and she’d been able to avail himself of the library to catch up on reading, under the guise of refreshing herself of what her students would learn, to discover all that she’d missed. No one mentioned Henrietta Smythe, and for all that anyone knew, she had tragically perished in the fire in St. Louis. She wrote to Alva once or twice, hearing that her husband had passed and she was traveling east to live with relatives. Henry wished her well.

  Two men strode along the path, the first someone she thought she’d never see again. They’d exchanged letters, and she’d kept her up to date on what her students had been doing, but as they’d discovered in London, passing messages beyond a certain distance lent to a mixup and often missed delivery. The other she remembered, with his tall hat and well-fitting coat and breaches, his boots polished to a shine. Some might have called him a dandy,
though once they got to know him, they discovered he was as meticulous in his appearance as he was with his science.

  Henry walked faster. “Leo? Edward?” she asked when she was in speaking distance. She’d gotten used to lowering her voice to better pass as Henry, and seeing Leo stop and stare, as if wondering where he knew this man from hurt.

  “Henry? Is that you?” Leo finally asked.

  Henry’s heart beat faster, and she struggled to keep his guise in place. “It is. I accepted a position here in Melody after the fire.”

  Leo glanced once again. “You’re looking well.”

  “Thank you.” She’d taken up exercising. Her young students talked about how working the body helped the mind to work better, and in lifting weights regularly, she’d turned from the scrawny, pale scientist into one with more substance. Thankfully, it offset the changes eating well had made to her figure, and she’d had to learn how to bind better. “What are you gentlemen doing here? Your letters didn’t mention a trip to America.”

  Edward glanced at Leo, then at Henry, his expression puzzled. “Actually, we were visiting Melody before going to St. Louis and see you. I guess you’ve saved us a trip.” He smiled, though his brow furrowed as if he had questions.

  “Have you just come from the dining hall? I’m headed there during the break between classes.” Something passed between the three of them, questions, concerns, worries, all unspoken, and yet, Henry realized she could see them all even though none had been spoken aloud.

  “We hadn’t yet. Would you mind if we joined you?” Leo asked.

  “Not at all. I’d appreciate the company.” Henry smiled and sensed Leo’s countenance easing. They turned and began walking at a slower pace toward the dining hall.