Imperial Clock (The Steam Clock Legacy) (42 page)

My bride.

He heard himself repeat the vicar’s words without error but it was somehow not him, moment to moment, speaking them. Sonja’s clear vowels followed, over-enunciated and proclamatory, almost defiant, so that he was a little in awe of her until the moment came when he lifted her veil and saw the wet trails of tears on her cheeks and the brilliant radiance in those large, fierce, loving eyes he’d fallen in love with. As natural as heat following light he kissed her in their own private centre of creation, where nothing could ever return to the way it was before they’d met.

He thanked Go
d for that.

And
they were married.

A
ccompanied by generous applause, and the first stiff gusts of the day, they walked the aisle together in an exhilarating hail of confetti, petals, and hearty cheers. The funniest moment came when Sonja stopped, licked her finger and held it up to measure the wind, then, to compensate for the gust, hurled her bouquet forwards rather than over her shoulder, and
still
managed to find her sister in the crowd. Meredith reached out to grab it but ducked at the last minute instead, letting it pass. This sparked a mad scramble among the single women, each of whom wanted to be the one to save it from blowing out to sea, an ill omen for their future marriage prospects if ever there was one.

Aunt Lily
snagged the bouquet with her foot, having not moved an inch. The first thing she did, however, was march over to Meredith and tie the bouquet to her sash, which made everyone laugh, Meredith included.

***

I’m Mrs. Auric?

Every time
she looked at Derek and realised she bore his surname, an unimaginable excitement overcame her. What better way to express that than to dance? At the ceremony’s end they all migrated to a pavilion in an open field, where the famed Auric fortune was on full display. A half-acre, raised wooden dance platform rotated slowly on some kind of iron, steam-powered wheel framework. Sonja had to be the first one to try it out. She dashed up the steps and immediately bungled a pirouette, almost falling on her backside like some drunken music hall hoofer, straight into Derek’s arms.

In the three months since her illness she
’d had precious little strenuous exercise, on the advice of Dr. Marsan. Her pulmonary system had come close to packing in altogether, and might never again be what it had been, but if she took care not to get unduly cold or over-exert herself too often—a game of tennis a week was fine—she could live a long and healthy life. So a career of adventuring abroad was out of the question. Well, there were plenty of other ways a woman could get into trouble here in England if she wished. Merry had found a few during her brief stint in the capital, a few absolute corkers: she’d already given Sonja Donnelly’s telephone number, in case she wanted his help for anything.

Ha! Little did they know she planned to start her own private detective business just as soon as she and Derek were settled in London, an investigation service to help untangle the webs of deceit,
skulduggery and treachery ordinary people had to contend with every day in that snake pit. Hearing Merry’s account of her Atlas infiltration had set Sonja’s mind spinning, and it had spun all the while she’d coalesced, week after week of bedbound imaginings and plotting. Yes, it was something she
had
to do while Derek was off playing the dangerous game on enemy turf. She would help him in any way she could, and the rest of the time she would right wrongs one small case at a time, build her reputation that way, or at least her professional reputation; a pseudonym might be advisable. Merry would laugh out loud if she heard that, knowing her kid sister’s penchant for talking and dreaming big with no follow-through; but her heart was set, as it had been on winning Derek for a husband.

And anyway, if she couldn
’t keep herself busy with something exciting, something cerebral, she’d waste away in no time.

The orchestra playing under the pavilion roof belted out several lively tunes that drew to the dance platform, from her list of guests, such agreeable partners as Parnell
and Ethel, Cathy and Mr. Van Persie, Aunt Lily and Donnelly, Cathy and another man, and another, and two more who almost erupted into fisticuffs until she waltzed with each in turn.

Derek
’s family were more reserved at first, content to observe, but when his mother dazzled everyone by requesting and performing a particularly energetic Irish jig with Donnelly, the others made up their minds to not be outdone.

S
hortly after, while a game of one-upmanship was underway between Derek, his father and Donnelly on one side, and Brunnie and his posse on the other—a dance contest fuelled by sherry and exuberant maleness—Merry appeared on the seaside bluff, well away from the party. She was alone, dressed in her adventurous
femme fatale
costume, and beckoned Sonja to follow her down to the beach. She also carried two deckchairs and a large beach umbrella. She dismissed a bold male guest’s advance with a curt remark Sonja would have given anything to hear.

The levity soon gave way to a
profound, heavy sadness as she realised this might be the last time she and Merry spent time alone together. Losing her to London was one thing, but Merry’s heart was now set on leaving Britain altogether, perhaps indefinitely, to see what life held in store for her. Under foreign moons, on strange meridians, oh-so-far away. Seeing the extraordinary costume in which she’d get to do all those things, and the way the breeze billowed her blouse sleeves in the manner of a lady pirate’s, hit Sonja hardest of all—the girl she knew had become a woman, a formidable woman who no longer depended on her kid sister. For anything.

And
, regrettably, vice versa.

Oh Merry, i
f only we could go together.

No one else accosted them, and they set the chairs on the beach facing the sea, with the umbrella shielding them not from the sun but from the party
inshore. Merry’s idea, and a good one, typical of their old misanthropic view of the world. The surf broke a good sixty feet away, the high tide having deposited enough driftwood and ragged ballonet canopy from a recently wrecked airship for them to build a raft if they’d wanted, complete with sail, across the Channel.

“
So this is it.” Sonja offered her hand. Merry held it. “When everything changes.”

“
Hmm. But I think it changed a while ago.”

“
Agreed,” said Sonja.

“
Really? You felt it too?”

Sonja recalled,
“From the first time I saw Derek as more than a teacher, I think. March 2
nd
, 1913, I tripped into him on purpose, and he caught me, called me Sonja for the first time, without thinking. I knew from that moment we’d been wrong, you and I, to hate the whole world without giving it a chance. That’s my version anyway.”

“
Very interesting, you little dark horse, you. Ha! And you know the exact date!”

“
The exact time as well—12:03, just after first bell for lunch. My life changed on an empty stomach. How about you?”

Merry raked up a fistful of damp sand and tossed it away. “
Not so precise as yours. I think it had been nagging me for a while before our second trip to Niflheim. But I felt it strongly on the tram ride back from Parnell’s; you know, after we saw him with Ethel, how happy he was, and what we seemed to be missing. I had no idea you’d set your sights on a member of the faculty.”

Sonja laughed. “
No. I’ll bet. But you know my story now, inside and out. What about yours? You have some rather devoted followers if I’m not mistaken, that’s if they’re still at bat, so to speak.”

“
Kingsley’s a sweetheart. I could fall for him in a big way.”

“
Well?”

“
I’ve already told you, he’s Atlas.”

“
Yes, but only because his father and grandfather were members. Aunt Lily told me he’s there in an administrative capacity, and to help with recruitment at his university. It’s duty with him, rather than ideology. He’s not the sort to kill for the cause. His heart isn’t in it.”

“
But how do I know that? I could never marry a man I’m unsure of.”

“
You could find out. I’m willing to bet he’d tell you anything.”

“
Oh, I’ve no doubt of that.” Merry groaned in frustration. “Why can’t anything be straightforward? If he hadn’t flashed that blasted pin, and if Donnelly weren’t already spoken for, and so on and so on. Cursed, I’m telling you. Maybe I’ll have better luck in Timbuktu, or wherever the heck the wind takes me.”

“
Seriously? You’re going that far?”

“
Not right away.”

“
Then you’ve decided to meet with the Coalition chiefs?”

“
Not right away.”

“
Why not?”

“
God, maybe you should instead—you’d make one hell of an interrogator.”

“
Maybe I already have, and this
is
me interrogating you on their behalf.” Sonja’s evil villain cackle elicited a thump on her arm and a spluttered laugh from her big sister. “Ouch! Consider yourself uninvited from all future engagements, unless they’re held at Auric Manor, and then you’re to bring Kingsley and his pugilist cricketers to beat Brunnie to a whining pulp.”

“
I don’t need them for that.” Merry pretended to pull her sleeves up.

“
We’ll take turns.”

Then Merry
shifted position on her chair so that she lay on her side, facing Sonja, knees tucked up. “I’ll miss you, you know.”

And Sonja assumed the same position on her chair, facing her sister, watching her mournful eyes for tear
s, for the excuse they needed to let all the years they’d shared together spill out in one heart-rending gush. “Not as much as I’ll miss you.”

But the gentle rhythmic thump and fizz of the surf spoke through them.
The longer they gazed at one another, holding hands, the more her pain banked against the thorns behind her eyes, the more ready she was to cry, the less she wanted to cry. After all this time, that thing they shared, and they alone, against the machinations and habits of the world, proved inseparable. Insuperable. Their strength had always been in their stubborn uniqueness. Their defiance. So they forced themselves not to cry.

It wa
s the most painful but beautiful few minutes of her life.

At last they let go, and watched the wind-shorn waves rolling in under slowly breaking clouds. Sunlight glinted on the metal hu
lls of scattered fliers miles away. And shortly after the first midday rays lit the beach, two young girls scampered over the sand from a nearby house, overdressed but barefoot, and made straight for the airship wreckage. In no time at all they gathered all the bits they could drag or lift and piled them high. One of them produced a box of matches and tried, unsuccessfully, to light a bonfire.

Sonja and Merry shared a knowing grin, and without a word
they sprang up, each grabbing a few fistfuls of dried grass, twigs and branches from the sandy slope behind them, before racing to show the youngsters how it was done. How to kindle radiant fire where none should rightly burn.

They would always remember those flames.

***

“
All aboard for Calais!”

Meredith pinch
ed her one-way ticket between her gloved finger and thumb, and watched it flap in the air stream caused by the docked airships’ propellers. One flimsy, life-changing bit of paper she could simply let go, then maybe she could stay home in England forever.

Hisses from the giant dirigible
s’ steam exhausts, and from the elevators rising inside the docking towers, did their best to loosen the pull of home. These bustling, cosmopolitan wharfs showcased every fashion from around the world, every skin colour, every type of person she would find on her travels. A palpable excitement rushed through her as she led the porter pushing her trolley of suitcases out onto the platform.

“
Which one was it again, miss?”

“
The airship to Calais.”

“
Let me see your ticket there.” She handed it to him. “Ah, well in that case you get to choose, miss. First Class gives you that privilege unless one of them’s over half full. So there you go, both the 14 and the 37 are less than half full, and they’re both destined for Calais.”

“
I see. But why have both go to the same place at the same time?”

“
The 14 is making a quick stop off at London. It’s a more modern design, though, much faster, so it shouldn’t lose you more than twenty minutes, all told. It’s up to you, miss. Whichever you like.”

“
Hmm, I think I’d like—” As if from nowhere, William Elgin appeared at the front the queue for the 14. He was on his own, the only one in Portsmouth harbour wearing a slicker, and an ill-fitting one at that. What did he know that they didn’t?