Aether Rising

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Danielsville, Tennessee 10 March 1871

Louisa looked up from her magazine when the men entered the train car. Their heavy steps made it bounce, and she pursed her lips in what she hoped was a pretty but effective show of annoyance at the interruption. Then her mouth passed puckered to make an O of surprise when her stepfather’s pet thugs ushered in an extra person.

A familiar person, and she couldn’t stop looking at him.

Something heavy plopping to the red velvet cushions on the bench beside Louisa made her jump. Her stepfather wiped his brow even though it was cool outside. He gave her his “business smile”—lots of teeth but no crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

“I need you to talk to Davis,” he said. “He’s hiding something. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Yes, Father.” She willed him to continue, to explain what the tall redheaded and bearded man standing between his two current favorite hired muscles was doing there. Cobb had said they were going down to Tennessee to pick up a talented inventor since Paul Farrell had only gotten so far with the aether. Louisa didn’t know what she was doing there—her place was charming business associates and their sons in drawing rooms and ballrooms, not on messy trains—but now she wondered. Was Parnaby testing her?

Her heart accelerated like the train, moving from a steady chug to panicked clip.

“Oh, and I believe you’ve met our guest, Patrick O’Connell. It was so long ago you may not remember.”

She leaned into the pillow behind her, tilted her head up, and flashed a coquettish smile. “Have we met? You look familiar. Oh!” She clapped her hands. “You’re that tinkerer from Claire McPhee’s ill-fated birthday party.” She squeezed a careless laugh through a too-tight throat.

The Irishman filled the train car, moving so naturally with its easy sway he could have been part of it. Not like her on trains and boats, which made her dizzy and nauseated. The only vehicles she could stand were carriages if she was facing to the front and airships as long as the weather was clear and calm.

“Aye. Hello, Miss Cobb.” He ground the word out through his teeth. He’d matured—they both had—and his brawny frame dwarfed the men beside him. In spite of his caged animal air, he could have broken free, at least before the train started moving.

What was going on? And what was her stepfather up to?

The two handlers pressed him to the bench across from Louisa and Parnaby, and everyone eyed each other in uneasy silence. His red hair and beard blazed with the afternoon light that slanted then dappled through the windows as the train moved from open country to forest.

Louisa’s stepfather nudged her foot. He was letting her take the lead, as he had promised her he’d do. This was a test.

She swallowed. Not here. Not with this man. But she had to.

“Remind me of your name again?” she asked as if it hadn’t haunted her dreams—both the nocturnal kind and the girlish day kind—of the past six years.

“Patrick O’Connell.”

She opened her fan. In spite of the car no longer being in direct sunlight, her cheeks heated.

“Oh, right. And how is your friend, the n***o doctor?”

“He’s well.”

“Yes,” Parnaby said. “He helped O’Connell here pioneer a new kind of therapy device similar to the electroshock helmets the neuroticists use for melancholia.”

“Oh?” Louisa fanned herself. “What is the new device for?” She looked over the lace at O’Connell.

He bit down, but the words came out anyway. “We don’t know yet, it’s only been used to help young women recover from disturbing experiences.”

“Don’t try to lie to her,” Parnaby said. “No man can.”

“And what about women?”

Parnaby laughed. “Oh, right, you’re clever. No person can lie to her.”

Louisa bit her lip. She’d hoped to reveal her special ability in her own time to this man whose lips she remembered all too well. In fact, if she closed her eyes and smiled just right, she could still feel the kiss he had stolen from her at the party. She had no doubt she’d finally be able to get the truth of what had happened that night from him, but she was more curious about whether he remembered her like she dreamed about him.

It was an improper question, and did she really want to know the truth?

The first and last time Patrick had seen Louisa Cobb before this odd train trip was when she had been fifteen. He thought surely she’d be married by now, six years later. But if it was impossible to lie to her, well, what kind of relationship would that be?

A damn good one.

Unlike his parents, who had fought over his father’s drinking and skirt-chasing. He’d been honest, but in an unrepentant way, and Patrick had often wished his father hadn’t been so brutal with his retellings for Patrick’s mother’s sake. But for a society miss like Louisa, whom men just wanted to pat on the head and visit in bed, forced honesty would be a disadvantage. Or was Cobb just waiting to wield her at the right man, like a business rival’s son?

That ain’t right.

He almost smiled at the expression that popped into his head, the one that had shocked Chad. It was a good reminder that he was more than he seemed, but he needed to hide behind the stereotype, ensure Cobb underestimated him.

“So you’re probably wondering why we invited you to join us on our journey back to Boston,” Cobb said.

The train shifted as their track joined another one, and Louisa hid her face behind her fan. An unladylike belch, then moan came from behind the lace.

“Just a few more minutes,” Cobb told her and patted her hand. “Does the aether device do anything for motion sickness?” he asked Patrick.

“Perhaps you should have her ask me.” He regretted his flippancy when she emerged from behind her fan with pinched lips that told him she was fighting not to vomit.

“I’ll take it the answer is no,” Parnaby said. “You might be an Irish brute, but you’re not going to withhold help from a suffering woman.”

“From a suffering anyone,” he said.

Cobb sat back with a smile, and Patrick mentally kicked himself. He’d seen enough of the entrepreneur to know how he operated—he was a master manipulator and exploiter. Patrick had just revealed a weakness, whereas his intention had been to withhold as much as possible about himself.

No, that wasn’t right. Neither was forcing him to reveal trade secrets, especially regarding a device powered by an element they didn’t understand fully and that carried unknown risks.

Patrick met Cobb’s challenging gaze. “I’m not sure what you want me to do with it. Are you suffering from melancholia? Perhaps some sort of neurasthenia or delusion?”

Now when Louisa ducked her head, Patrick was pretty sure it was to hide a laugh. Interesting. So she wasn’t so enamored of Cobb that she’d jump to his defense or be offended at Patrick’s teasing.

“Never mind what I want it for. I just want you to perfect it so that the influence can be spread over a wider area, like in the theatre.”

“Are you looking to manipulate theatre-goers’ emotions?” As an entertainment strategy, Patrick could see how it would be very effective, but then an icicle of realization formed at the base of his skull. What of other influence, like at an emotionally charged political rally or protest? Mobs couldn’t be controlled. Or could they?

“I won’t do it,” Patrick said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Oh, I think you will. You see, I know what concerns you the most.”

“And that is…?”

“Your friends’ happiness. As you said, you won’t let them suffer. You want Doctor Radcliffe and his precious Claire McPhee to marry, correct? Interracial marriage is still illegal except in special cases where dispensation is granted by the government. I can ensure they find all possible obstacles to their happiness.”

The train slowed, and Patrick glowered. But then he remembered Davidson’s hasty admonishment to cooperate with Cobb even if it didn’t make sense. It was the only way for them to see what Cobb was truly up to. He only hoped Davidson could get him out when it was time. And that Louisa didn’t ask about Davidson.

If she knew him as Davis, would that negate or attenuate her talent? Patrick could honestly say he didn’t know a Davis.

His head fogged with the layers of deception. The train emerged from heavy forest into a field, where Cobb’s airship waited, and rolled to a stop.

“Ah, here we are, my dear,” Cobb said and stood. He helped Louisa to stand. She still swayed as though the train moved, but at least she looked less sick. “My men will show you to your room on the airship, Mister O’Connell.”

The thugs hauled Patrick to his feet, and they followed Parnaby and Louisa out of the train. When he saw the field only contained the airship the Blooming Senator and Cobb’s men, any hope Patrick had that Davidson might engineer a rescue before Patrick was truly out of reach evaporated like the steam that hissed from the train’s funnel. As much as he would have liked to break free and run, his promise to Davidson to spy on Cobb and his obligation to his friends for Cobb to leave them alone kept him doubly shackled in a figurative sense.

Patrick recalled the attack on the Blooming Senator that had dropped the aetherist Edward Bailey and the others into his and Chadwick Radcliffe’s lives. Although he hadn’t seen the airship itself, his tinkerer’s brain wouldn’t allow him not to look for signs of what had occurred. First he noticed the dirigible had been repainted, but if he looked closely enough, his trained eye could see where glass had been replaced and other subtle scars.

The air isn’t necessarily the safest place.

The thought chilled him. With one last look at the early spring world around him, Patrick allowed the henchmen to shove him on to the ship.

Louisa’s stomach settled once the airship rose above the clouds and gained forward momentum. She missed her stepfather’s former maid Marie, who would make ginger tea with honey and lemon. Marie was the only one who could make it with just the right proportions to settle a dancing stomach. Not that Louisa travelled with her stepfather on most of his journeys to Europe and beyond—and she didn’t think she could handle the turbulence she’d heard was over the oceans—but she would always associate Marie’s tea with the treat that was a calm domestic trip.

Once Louisa could move about without holding on to the walls, she wandered into the hall. She’d last seen Patrick O’Connell being bundled into the airship behind her, but she didn’t know where they’d taken him. This level was all bedrooms. She suspected that her father wouldn’t just let a talented tinkerer like Patrick O’Connell wander about unguarded, but she also didn’t see any guards posted outside any of the rooms. She ascended the narrow stairs to the next level, which held the library, ballroom, and laboratory.

Ah, the guards were in front of the lab. Parnaby stood and spoke with one of them. He turned and smiled at Louisa—this time with crinkly eyes and no teeth.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes, much, although I miss Marie’s tea.”

If she hadn’t known Cobb so well, she would have missed the flicker of pained annoyance that flitted across his face. She braced herself for his snappish retort and wished he would just say what was bothering him.

“You’re an adult. You can make your own tea.”

“You’re right, I can.”

But I won’t apologize for bringing her up. Your stupidity and selfishness lost her and inconvenienced me.

Louisa assumed a neutral expression, folded her hands in front of her and looked from the henchman to her father. “Is that where you’re keeping O’Connell? Aren’t you afraid he’ll find something in there to blow us all up?”

“I had the room cleaned out while we were on the train. Don’t worry about him—he has the bare necessities to be comfortable for this journey.”

“Oh, I’m not.” She waved a hand. It was amazing how easy it was to lie to others in spite of the fact they couldn’t intentionally deceive her. And it wasn’t too much of a lie. She was more concerned about how her own emotions seemed in danger of taking over when she was with the Irishman.

How could one stolen kiss mean so much?

“Good. It’s tea time. Go up to the dining room. I’ll meet you there.”

Louisa dipped her chin so she’d seem to be meekly acquiescing to his command, but she ground an imaginary bit of dirt between her back teeth in frustration at being ordered about.

Once she reached the stairs, she climbed quickly to the spot in the middle where an air vent relayed the words from the hallway below.

“…make sure he doesn’t speak to her,” Cobb was saying to the guards. “I’d underestimated the influence of the history between them.”

A blast of hot air added to the heat in Louisa’s cheeks, and her stepfather’s admonishment only added to her resolve to see if O’Connell remembered her the same way she remembered him and determine if any feelings for her remained.

And what if he says there are?

She smiled and ascended the stairs at a more ladylike pace.

Then things will get interesting.