Lairs, Caves, & Credenzas Read online

  Louisa remained within the confines of the credenza for a good ten minutes before clawing her way out, ignoring her sore body and her fevered mind. She slipped out the door while Ryn’s back was turned. Louisa determined to keep the peace between them … and not lose her hands.

  Insert Foot into Mouth

  T he early morning sun pierced through the workshop window. Louisa squinted and peered over Henry’s shoulder as he added more glass filaments to the dispersal orb. The houseman might have been good with his hands for fixing things, but creating china-thin spheres did not come naturally. Louisa glanced at Isabel, who layered her orb with a crepe of filaments, and smiled at the cook. Louisa could always count on her, no matter the situation.

  Her concentration drifted as she replayed the Judge’s words from last night in her mind yet again. I need a weapon … something that will disturb a Wentworth … should have several settings … three days …

  “Oh bother,” Henry muttered.

  Louisa blinked and was back in Bennett’s workshop, not Ryn’s. Henry’s third orb had gone from promising to puddle. She sighed and removed the mess from his hands. They couldn’t afford to waste any more materials training him.

  “Go wash up,” she whispered.

  “So sorry, Miss. It’s just a wee bit too delicate for me.” He hurried over to the dry sink. Louisa discarded his attempt before joining him. He passed her the towel, then turned to leave.

  “Not so fast, sir.”

  Henry looked back, a rosy blush staining his cheeks.

  “Come over to the table. I’ve another task I’m sure you can handle just fine. Sit.”

  He did.

  Louisa hooked a stray curl behind her ear and lifted a small padded box of completed orbs onto the far end of the long workbench. She placed a list of ingredients before him. He looked at her quizzically. She gave him a tired smile and measuring spoons.

  “What’s this now?” he asked.

  “If you can’t make the orbs, perhaps you can fill them. Here.” As Louisa demonstrated, she turned each dish and container so the label stood prominent for him to read. “Now, you try.”

  Slowly, he mimicked Louisa and followed the instructions, capping the orb with a small cork.

  “Very good. Again,” she encouraged. But her gaze glazed over, and she stared through the table rather than at it. Wentworth devices are rare and expensive—used in high security. What will be available in three days that would require so much protection? Where in the city would these devices be installed? Why three days? Maybe I’m wrong, and it’s not “available” in three days but will be revealed or transported soon, and the Judge needs it gone before it can interrupt or affect his business?

  “Lou!” Bennett’s voice broke through her musings.

  “Oh, yes, sir?” She left Henry and Isabel to work and hurried over to her master’s—uh … employer’s—desk. He searched for something under one of the many piles. Louisa longed to organize it all for him, as she had done for his notes after the fire, but she knew his desk would be like this again in less than a day. He found what he hunted for and placed it over the ledger before him.

  “It looks like everything is going well,” he said.

  “Yes, Isabel and Henry complement each other. It’s too bad we’ll lose her in an hour to prep for lunch.”

  “I have confidence Courtright will be just as great an asset. She’s never let me down. But here’s the thing: I’ve got a meeting scheduled in an hour, and I won’t be able to make it—I need to get this ledger in order for my presentation to the backers after dinner tonight.”

  “The meeting to request more funding?”

  “The very one. Arnold and Nathan will be coming by, and I need to be ready.”

  “The gentlemen who got help for Mr. Rathburn at the races? The Minister for Agriculture and the plant engineer?”

  “Yes, well, he’s more than that. He’s coming on behalf of the Royal Botanical Gardens. Nathan is on the Board of Governors, and if we can solidify long-term funding from both of them, we’ll be able to open a small factory shortly after our presentation to the Society of Engineers. The Queen will want this drought to end, and we’ll need to make sure another doesn’t happen. An influx of money from the Crown will only take us so far; I need to plan for the long haul. Preventive measures and all.”

  His eyes lit up when he spoke of his design benefiting England for many years to come—that and pleasing the Queen.

  “You know how important it is we do this thing right,” he said.

  “Yes, we discussed it in detail last night.”

  “Exactly. Well, the documentation needs to be done flawlessly and by someone we trust.”

  “Of course.”

  “Can you go to the meeting for me and work out the details so I can concentrate on this?” He waved at his desk.

  “Um, certainly. But if I’m not here to train the staff during their scheduled shifts—”

  “No problem, Lou. Isabel and Henry can train Courtright before their shift ends.”

  “But if Missus Courtright isn’t able to—”

  “She’ll be fine, trust me. Can I count on you?”

  Louisa blinked rapidly. She wasn’t used to someone talking over her so frequently. Either she remained silent or decorum reined. But things with Bennett had always seemed more familiar. She shook off her unease.

  “Yes, sir.” It meant another late night working on the orbs before she could track Morrie down and figure out what the Judge was planning, but it had to be done.

  “Great. Widow Abernathy’s loaned the use of her landau until the evening of the presentation. Pop over”—he scribbled a note for the older matron and handed it to Louisa—“and request to take it to London. After you meet with Tweed and convince him to work with us, come back and pick up where you left off.”

  “Tweed, sir?” she asked accepting the note, her insides recoiling.

  “Yes, that reporter who’s always at the tests. Favors us over Sterling and isn’t afraid to write his opinion. Get him on board for the presentation for me. We need as many allies as we can get.”

  Louisa gulped and nodded before turning to leave. It was bad enough having run into Morrie at the races and then riding with him on his way back to London; now, she had to represent Bennett at a formal meeting with him … as herself. There’s no way this ends well. Louisa chasséd double-time from the second floor to the basement, grabbed her wool frock, and burst out the servant’s entrance just as a steam landau pulled up before the Abernathy residence.

  She hesitated.

  Clearly, now was not a good time to ask to use the widow’s vehicle. Abernathy’s driver got out and moved around to open the door for the older woman, but she caught sight of Louisa and waved, motioning the girl over. Louisa tucked the note deep into her pocket and approached.

  “How are you doing, my dear?” the widow asked, a cheery smile brightening the over-cast day. Louisa noted that if the clouds in the high ceiling held any water, they kept it hidden away—the drought continued into its fifth month.

  “I am well, thank you. And yourself?”

  “Tickled pink, actually. My great-niece and nephew will be staying with me as their parents tour the new world for a year. It will be wonderful having children liven up the house again. Oh, there’s so much to do! They’ll be arriving on the train shortly. So much fuss necessary to get settled, but then the fun will begin. Oh, here.” She reached into a large carpetbag, the matching wide-brimmed hat hiding her actions from view. “Could you give this to Andrew for me? He said he’d quite run out when we spoke the other day.” She handed Louisa a sealed jar of jelly.

  “Certainly. It’s his favorite, I hear.” As Louisa reached for the jar, pulling her hand from the depths of her pocket, Bennett’s note fluttered free. The widow caught it before it reached the ground and took notice of the salutation.

  “For me?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, but I see how busy you are. I can—”
/>
  “Nonsense. I can’t bring you to London, but you could ride with me to Clapham Station.”

  Louisa opened her mouth to protest but changed her mind. “That is most generous of you. As long as I won’t hinder your plans.”

  “Not at all. Come along, come along.” She maneuvered her plump body into the landau and waved the girl in after her. Louisa obeyed and sat down across from the widow, storing the jar in her coat pocket as she did.

  “Now, tell me all about what you and Andrew are planning for that patent celebration.”

  Louisa wasn’t one to gossip, but she did reveal a few details she’d heard Bennett discuss publicly.

  A short while later, they arrived at the station. Louisa departed as two rambunctious children raced across the platform and jumped into the widow’s waiting arms. Again, Louisa faced the option of hiring a Steamie or taking the train. Bennett assumed she’d be out all morning and most of the afternoon if she used the widow’s landau. By taking the train, in the time she saved, she could visit her mother a few days early and make sure she’d started eating—keeping Louisa’s weekend open for helping Bennett with more orbs.

  Knowing she planned on a personal side-trip, Louisa didn’t mind using her own money to pay for a ticket to London. The only thing she minded was knowing she had to visit the reporter first, and not as the Phoenix.

  * * *

  The poised but chatty receptionist, who wanted to be a reporter, clacked her heels on the wood floor as she led Louisa to one of the rooms along the back of the newsroom scrum. Typewriter keys clicked in opposition to the woman’s measured walk and perfect stature. Louisa pulled her shoulders back a little farther. Working hunched over a table day after day had done nothing for her posture. Her mother would not approve.

  “Wait here,” the receptionist said and swooped back toward her station. Louisa sat in the chair on one side of a thin table in a closet of a room, the door open. She adjusted her vest and smoothed out her slacks under an open wool coat, fighting the impulse to run back out of the building. Tension kept her back stiff and straight as she reminded herself for the fiftieth time to speak with a soft, low voice.

  The door shut.

  Her heart jumped.

  Louisa looked up. Morrie turned toward the room, unbuttoning his Norfolk jacket. He smiled at her. Not that fake reporter one he and all the rest of them had perfected, and not the sad, pained smile he reserved for Shadow Phoenix. Merriment crinkled the corners of his eyes.

  “Well, you certainly aren’t the gentleman I expected to see at this quarter-hour. How are you, Miss. Wicker?” He pulled the opposite chair out and sat with a jaunty hike of his leg across one knee.

  “I’m well, thank you, Mr. Tweed. At least you didn’t mistake me for a man this time,” she quipped, having second thoughts the moment the words left her mouth.

  He chuckled. “Yes, I do apologize for my assumption at the races. I didn’t mean to imply any lack of femininity. I should have observed the group more closely before speaking. But that’s all under the rug now, eh? And where might the man of the hour be? His telegram sounded urgent.”

  “He asked me to come in his stead. I hope you don’t mind. Plans for the presentation of the patent have quite overwhelmed him.” She couldn’t admit to Bennett putting Tweed off for a more important meeting. That would not help her win the coming appeal.

  “Of that I have no doubt. Sterling’s second test did not go as well as Bennett’s, and the Queen is calling for a solution to the drought. Bennett is in the perfect position to make history.”

  “He would, of course, beam at the compliment. Thank you for your kind words.” Louisa hadn’t had to put on airs like this when they rode to Southwark together. Something about the newspaper office and the nature of her mission set the level of formality higher than expected. Louisa channeled all of her mother’s teachings from her childhood and presented herself as a lady—even though she worked for a living. Heat crept up to her exposed ears above her frock coat as she tucked away a stray lock of hair.

  Morrie popped up from his chair. “Where are my manners? Here, let me help you.” He bustled around and lightly plucked her wool coat from her shoulder. He laid it across one end of the skinny table before resuming his former position.

  “Now, how may I be of service to you?”

  “Mr. Tweed, Mr. Bennett wants me to extend to you first rights for documenting the patent presentation before the Society of Engineers and, potentially, as you pointed out, the Queen.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. She carried on, not letting him get a word in edge-wise.

  “You see, Mr. Bennett quite approves of your reporting style, and he’d like to hire you to take the official photographs and make the third-party unbiased report of events at the presentation. In no way does he want to influence your job to report on the event for the paper, but neither does he trust just anyone to handle this delicate and momentous task. Will you accept?” Excitement raised her voice a bit at the end. She worried he might detect something in her tone, but he flashed her another dazzling smile, his loose sandy-blond curls bobbing in time to his nod. An electrified jolt ignited her.

  “My goodness, this is an unexpected honor. I’ll have to confirm with my manager to make sure there’s no conflict of interest, but I’d love to help. Only the Society of Engineers and the Queen’s staff will see the official report, correct?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “So, the only public version of events would be what I choose to write on behalf of The Chronicle?”

  “Mmhm. That is our understanding as well.”

  He leaned forward and clasped her hands. Louisa’s heart rate spiked. Had she been a lady of delicate constitution she might have swooned. Maybe she did a little anyway. He looked so happy for a change. She did that. My news did that. Still, she’d never seen his gray eyes sparkle so keenly before—well, maybe that one time when she’d accused him of abandoning her. No, abandoning Phoenix. But that had been more of a fire than a sparkle.

  “Let me confirm for you. Be right back.” And he rushed from the little room so fast he might never have been there at all except for leaving the light woodsy hint of his cologne behind.

  She checked her pocket watch after fifteen minutes and pressed her lips together. Maybe there’s an issue with his boss. Louisa let her shoulders droop and slouched into the wooden chair, crossing her legs and folding her hands on her lap. Her arms twitched. She tried to keep still. Louisa stared at the ceiling as the Judge’s word filtered through her thoughts. Variable setting, including kill … three days … three days … She slammed her hands on the table and stood up. Morrie needed to know, but she couldn’t give up her cover. Which Wentworth? What is he up to? I have all the clues but—“Dammit!”

  “Everything all right?”

  Louisa whirled around. Morrie turned to wave at someone before re-entering.

  “Yes, everything’s fine,” she said in her low, soft tone and offered him a polite smile, clasping her hands behind her back and squeezing them tight.

  “Oh.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I guess I heard someone in the next room.”

  She raised her eyebrows, playing into her apparent innocence.

  He chuckled, then beamed his brilliant smile at her, melting away all the nervous energy, warming Louisa from her toes to her cheeks. “Never mind. I have good news.”

  * * *

  Louisa tucked the bag of Queen’s Approved butterscotch bites into the pocket opposite Bennett’s jar of crabapple jelly and hailed a Steamie to Southwark. The steam clock in front of the newspaper office blasted the hour as she climbed into the waiting vehicle. Louisa hadn’t brought a meal with her, but perhaps she could pick up a meat pie from a street vendor on her way back to Bennett’s.

  A small smile kept tugging at her lips on the drive. It didn’t matter that she knew her destination was the asylum she’d abandoned her mother to nearly eight months ago. Nor did it bother her so much that she had to
wait until that evening to speak with Morrie as Phoenix—because she’d get to see him again.

  Stop it, Louisa. Don’t be so foolish. But even after another internal reprimand, her lips tugged up again.

  The moment she stepped from the Steamie and paid her fair, though, Louisa’s expression fell, and the strange jolt of happiness evaporated. An imposing gray stone manor rose before her. She forced one foot in front of the other as her brain stalled on the image of her mother’s gaunt face and wheelchair-bound body. Louisa walked through one side of a double set of arched doors and over to the receiving desk. She licked her lips, stomach threatening to bring up any last traces of breakfast. She took a deep breath.

  “Good day. I was wondering if I could visit with my mother briefly. Marie Pierce.”

  The nun-like matron behind the desk looked at the intake log. “I don’t have you scheduled for a visit,” she said, not looking up.

  “No, I didn’t have time to write ahead. I happened to be in London on business and have a few moments to stop in. I know advance notice is preferred, but I am here during visiting hours and Miss. Pierce’s case is especially delicate. I’d like to check in on her, if you please.” None of the soft, low tones from Louisa’s earlier conversation intruded now. If that woman tried to keep Louisa from her mother—

  “Yes, certainly.” She dinged a bell and a male orderly, dressed in gray and dull white, shuffled in from down the hall. “Please prepare Miss. Pierce for a visitation.”