Aether Rising

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Boston International Airfield, 11 March 1871

Louisa tapped her toe as she waited for her trunk to be loaded on the carriage. She had never been so glad to have an airship ride behind her even if this was the one she’d felt the least ill during. It was amazing how well fury kept her stomach from trying to turn itself inside out. After she’d dropped the message cylinder out of the window, she’d found herself unable to sleep, so she’d had plenty of time to stew over the night’s events.

She kept coming back to how she should have accompanied Patrick when he first asked, even if the thought of dropping away from her former life into a new one made her stomach flip worse than air travel did.

Could she make it on her own without Parnaby Cobb’s patronage? She didn’t know if she could trust Patrick to take care of her—she hardly knew him, after all, and he’d immediately assumed the worst about her when he was discovered—and she certainly didn’t have any marketable skills with which to earn a living. She couldn’t tell others about her talent. No one would believe her.

As for marrying… That seemed her best course of action, as she was still attractive and young enough to bear children. But she needed Cobb to approve of her finding a husband since he would provide the dowry.

Thankfully her stepfather had remained behind to attend to some business. She didn’t know what kind, and she didn’t care. Well, not for him. She craned her neck to peer behind her for a glimpse of Patrick’s orange-red hair and beard as her carriage rolled away from the Blooming Senator.

It hardly seems fair that a capable woman like me should have to depend on a man for her fortune and keeping.

She watched the marshlands that surrounded the air field turn into the outskirts of the city. Steamcarts joined the horse-drawn vehicles on the rails laid into the cobblestone streets, and her carriage’s progress slowed, especially as they reached the city center and the congested commercial areas. The trees were still bare, and patches of dirty snow gathered in corners and along curbs. A few shrubs showed signs of new budding life trying to come through. Louisa focused on those. She recalled something her mother had told her when she was a little girl, how fairies came in the spring and woke up the plants from their winter sleep.

Louisa needed a fairy godmother now. And a prince would be nice. She’d had disagreements with her stepfather before, but he’d never laid a hand on her. She shouldn’t have allowed Patrick enough liberties for signs of their tryst to be evident on her face, which still flamed at the memory. But Patrick O’Connell’s kisses had awakened something in her like her mother’s fairies did with the plants. She had never attempted to defy Cobb before, and she knew from having observed him with his underlings that there would likely be hell to pay even beyond her hidden bruise. As was typical for him, he’d hurt her, and it stung, but she thought it wouldn’t show. Or maybe she hoped it wouldn’t.

When Louisa arrived at the townhouse on Beacon Hill, she exited the carriage and drew her shawl against the wind that didn’t carry even a hint of the spring softness she’d briefly enjoyed in Tennessee. Fine—the weather matches my mood.

Louisa freshened up in her room and glanced at the bed. Now that she was in her familiar surroundings, the events on the airship retreated into the same realm of reality as vivid dreams. Could she go to sleep and wake up that morning in her own bed and in her old life, where her position with Cobb was secure and she didn’t have to worry about an Irishman who kissed like an angel and made her want to do things that would shock her priest?

The little clock on her bedside table told her it was just past noon, time for lunch. She hadn’t heard any of the noises that would indicate her stepfather had returned, which both delighted and annoyed her. She didn’t care for his company and was happy he likely had gone to his offices, but she wanted to know what had become of Patrick. Where would he be staying? Working? And how could she make him understand she hadn’t betrayed him?

When she reached the bottom of the front stairs, the butler met her with a telegram on a tray and said, “This just came. And there is a woman here to see you.”

The tone of his voice when he said woman told Louisa a commoner visited her, so she took the telegram first. She smiled for the first time that day when she read it. Eliza Adams had sent it from a place called Terminus, which as Louisa recalled was somewhere in the Deep South, with her regrets that she wouldn’t be able to host the tea to plan her niece’s wedding that afternoon since she was detained on important business. Her final words—shocking news, come for tea tomorrow—piqued Louisa’s curiosity. She had to attend a rally earlier in the day and play the dutiful daughter, but she could make an afternoon event.

Eliza must be in a state if she’s inviting me through a telegram and not a hand-written invitation. I hope Bryce is all right.

Eliza’s son was at the front, somewhere in Tennessee, but since the war was finally over, there shouldn’t be any more fighting. Louisa hadn’t paid much attention to the papers beyond the headlines.

And now on to the second surprise of the afternoon…

“Please send a note to the Adams’ house that I will be delighted to attend tea tomorrow. As for the visitor, I’m not expecting anyone. Did the woman give you a card?” There wasn’t anything on the tray besides the telegram, so she doubted it.

“No, Miss, but she said to give you this.” He handed her a locket.

The chain and locket itself were tarnished but otherwise in good shape. Louisa opened it and saw the two photos were of handsome dark-haired people. One of them looked like her, but with an old-fashioned hairstyle and a neckline that was a score out of date. With a toe-to-head shiver, she realized it was her mother. The picture on the other side was of a young man who looked familiar, but only because Louisa saw his chin in the mirror every day.

It was her father, the man who had disappeared when she was a small child. The only memories she had of him were vague flashes of sense—the smell of his wool sailor’s coat and tobacco, the feel of his coarse dark hair under her little hands and his whiskers on her cheek when he kissed her goodbye. She had tried so hard, especially after her mother died, to remember what he looked like, but she’d been unable to, and her mother in her grief had hidden all his pictures.

With great care not to allow the upwelling of gratitude and grief to show, she closed the locket with a snap. “Very well, I will see her.”

“Very good, Miss. I had her wait in the library.”

Louisa nodded. This visitor wasn’t of high enough rank to show to the parlor. But when Louisa arrived at the library, it was empty. The visitor had left a piece of paper with an address scrawled on it under the one lit lamp. She didn’t know exactly where the place was, only that it was in the poor part of town she and Cobb were to be in the next day.

It looks like I’ll have an errand to run.

After one more look at the pictures, Louisa slipped the locket’s chain over her head and tucked it beneath her blouse so her parents could rest close to her heart. It seemed a small miracle amid the turmoil of the day, and she allowed one tear to escape before she wiped it away.

After the moment of sentiment, her logic kicked back in. Even if she would end up near the address on the paper the following day, Cobb wouldn’t let her go. Plus, with their current state of mutual mistrust, he would have his men watch her like one of those creepy steam ravens and hawks made by Paul Farrell, Cobb’s pet inventor.

I need to find that woman today.

Cobb wouldn’t expect Louisa to remain at home because he would think she was meeting with Eliza.

This may be the only free afternoon I have for months.

Louisa found the butler in the pantry. He gave her a surprised look—she hadn’t ventured into the servants’ areas since she had been a child and still learning the difference between her and them—but she ignored it.

“The woman who left this—what did she look like?”

He shrugged. “Ordinary, I suppose. Of the working class, but well-enough dressed.”

She clenched her teeth against the frustration that rose in a wave from her middle. Of course he wouldn’t have paid that much attention to someone he considered beneath him. She might not have, either, but she needed details.

“How old was she? What color was her hair? When she spoke, could you tell what part of town she came from?”

“I’m sorry, Miss, but I can’t tell you.” Now he at least had the courtesy to look embarrassed. “Ah, but she did drop something.”

Louisa followed the butler back to the library, where he pulled a small piece of paper from the dustbin and handed it to her. She saw it was a ticket to the nearest trolley station.

“Thank you.” She dashed upstairs to her rooms, donned her gloves, shawl, and daytime bonnet, and paused at the front door. It would be unseemly for her to go unescorted anywhere, particularly to the trolley station, where those of lower classes might congregate.

But this was possibly her only chance to catch the woman and find out more about her father—her true father. She opened the front door and, after a glance in either direction to ensure no one she knew was out and about, she closed the door quietly and descended the steps to the street.

Patrick stood by the laboratory window and watched the airship being unloaded. Even if he dared risk a broken leg or worse by breaking the window and escaping through it, the guard who stood by the door with weapon in hand kept him from considering it. Patrick hadn’t been alone since his botched escape attempt that morning. At least he had the memory of Louisa’s kisses for company even if she had betrayed him after.

He understood why—or thought he did—but her actions still stung. She was dependent on Cobb and needed to stay in his good graces. Going with Patrick was too big a risk, although it smarted that she didn’t trust he’d take care of her.

But why had she led the men right to him? Had she changed her mind and made a mistake, or was she trying to put herself in Cobb’s good graces? Patrick knew Cobb had a ruthless streak, but he didn’t think Louisa had inherited it.

Her carriage had rolled away two hours beforehand, and if he was the poetic type, he’d have said the day grew darker when she left. But no poetry was needed. The clouds gathered and hung heavy with the promise of snow. They only contributed to his bleak mood.

The door opened, and Cobb strode in.

“We’re ready to go to the city,” he said. “Are you going to come peacefully, or shall I have the guards knock you out for transport? I’m giving you one chance to act like a civilized human being.”

“Just one?” Patrick eyed the monkey-faced guard, who looked all too pleased at the idea of coshing him over the head with the butt of his steam rifle, or whatever else he would use.

“Your humor is lost on Morlock,” Cobb said. “I’ve never seen the man smile unless he’s doing violence to someone. Or thinking about it.”

The man in question lifted one corner of his mouth in a lopsided grin, and Patrick didn’t want to know what he imagined. Patrick had confidence he could overpower Morlock if they were hand-to-hand, but the weapon put Patrick at too great a disadvantage.

“Fine, I’ll come along peacefully.”

“Good.” Cobb nodded as if he had anticipated the answer. “Oh, and if you have any notion of escaping once we’re close to the city, I just received this.” He tossed a folded telegram on the table. Patrick picked it up and cursed under his breath as he read it.

“Have Claire in Terminus. n***o detained. Home this evening. E.A.”

Patrick looked up from the telegram, which appeared official, to Cobb’s gloating grin.

“As fortune would have it, I had already arranged for Eliza Adams to be on the same train as Doctors McPhee and Radcliffe, who attempted to sneak away from Danielsville in the middle of the night.” Cobb shook his head. “Your attempt to escape last night indicated you didn’t think I was serious about interfering with their plans.”

“I trusted my friends could take care of themselves.” And then who sent the message tube? The clockwork looked like Edward’s work. Have they not rendezvoused with Chad?

“Ah, then you displayed an admirable amount of ruthlessness risking their freedom for yours. For that I commend you. Perhaps we have more in common than I thought.”

Patrick cringed at Cobb’s echo of the word ruthless and fought the urge to clench his fists. He wouldn’t show Cobb how the man was getting under his skin. “You and I are nothing alike.”

“Oh, I disagree. We both have interest in Claire McPhee, and if you want to see her again, you will cooperate.”

Patrick wanted to argue, but he wouldn’t stoop to taking Cobb’s bait. He only assumed what he hoped was a neutral expression and shrugged.

“Ah, very well,” Cobb told him. “Morlock, take the prisoner down to the transport carriage and lock him inside. I have rooms for you in the space at the bottom of my offices, Mister O’Connell. I trust you’ll find it comfortable.”

“Not bloody likely,” Patrick muttered.

“Hands where I can see ’em, Red,” Morlock said and gestured for Patrick to precede him and Cobb from the room.

Patrick complied and placed his hands atop his head. Two more guards stood outside the door, and there was nothing within easy reach he could use as a weapon. Plus, if it was true that Claire was back in the clutches of her evil aunt, Patrick would have to cooperate to give her and Chad time to figure things out.

And where the hell was Davidson?