Mechanized Masterpieces: A Steampunk Anthology (30 page)

The next morning, Ebenezer arrived at the warehouse at nine of the clock. A full hour later, Marley entered in an agitated state. His chin needed a razor and his eyes cast storms in every direction. He closed the door and turned the latch before spinning to face Ebenezer across his desk.

“It is my turn to speak with a sterner tone than you may feel necessary, Scrooge. But you must tell me everything. What dealings have you had with that man, Hargreaves?”

“It is only as I’ve told you, Marley. He is an inventor, and I have invested a sum—”

“Yes, yes. As you’ve told me. Of whom did he speak when he mentioned your collective wish to see her returned? Tell me you have not done this thing. Tell me I am wrong when I suspect you of grave-robbing!”

But Ebenezer could not so tell his cousin, and so he told him the whole gruesome and damning truth of what he had done, and why he had done it.

“I loved her so, Marley. I loved her . . .”

Marley took his time in replying, calming himself and settling behind his own desk. When he spoke, he expressed neither revulsion nor horror.

“I know too well the lure of love and what a man will so easily part with to secure it, even if that parting is between himself and his mortal soul.”

“But, I was given to know you a bachelor. Uncle Neville spoke of no love in your life, nor of any want for love. Do forgive me, though, if my words scrape against a wound on your heart.”

“No, Scrooge. Your uncle spoke well. In all my years, I have felt neither love from nor love for another. Not the type of love you knew with Rose. But I have felt love, and it is one that I find far stronger and more lasting than what may be had between men and women.”

Ebenezer waited in the pregnant silence.

“Money, Scrooge. No one and nothing in my life has been so like love for me than the handling and possessing of coin.”

“But this is mere avarice, Marley. Not love. Have you never felt the warmth of a woman’s laugh? Her smile? Her hand in yours? You, who claim to trust flesh over speech as evidence of a vow? The love of money I understand well enough, but the loss of money is no comparison to the loss of love.”

“Isn’t it, Scrooge? Isn’t it? Are you not the same man who lost both your father’s love and his money in one stroke? And did you not find yourself without even a woman’s smile to comfort your pauper’s heart not two days ago? In that black hour, your uncle provided succor from his purse! Tell me you would still champ so hard were it not for the fortune we have joined to seek, and your uncle’s coin that made it possible for us to so act.”

“I—yes, yes, Marley, I would be far less the man you see before you were it not for Uncle Neville’s timely gift. But this business with Hargreaves, this grim and horrible business—this is for love, not for money. And I would have given all I had if my uncle had not made this partnership a condition of the gift.”

Regretting his words at once, Ebenezer opened his mouth to retrieve them. Marley spoke first, and he evinced no offense at what Ebenezer had said just then.

“I do not judge you a sinner, Scrooge. I do not call you damned, for it is not my place to make such proclamations. I leave that to the vicars and people in the street. Am I to be judged differently than you for choosing to love money as deeply and truly as you loved your Rose?

“Money, Scrooge. That is the only love worth pursuing, the only mistress who, when held, will never part from you unless you wish it, or are foolish enough to allow it. You believe Hargreaves will return your Rose to you, but I tell you that whatever he has promised, it can be only lies.”

“What do you mean by this, Marley?”

“I followed him last night. After we departed his domicile, I took pains to recall the way. I returned late in the evening and observed him on his cart. A cart drawn by a black nag with a white spot on its cheek!”

Ebenezer felt his throat tighten and he attempted to choke out a reply, but Marley spoke over him.

“You are devoted to Hargreaves and would not see what I know to be true. Indeed, you did not see evidence of it upon our visit yesterday. But I did!”

“What evidence? What do you speak of?”

“The orphans, Scrooge. The ones gone missing. I saw small jackets in the back of Hargreaves’ cart. And he has the nag.”

“That does not condemn him.”

“No, it does not. But the three boys I saw being marched out the kitchen door of an orphanage in the small hours, that, Scrooge, that is evidence!”

Ebenezer could only stare in disbelief, all the while knowing in his heart that Marley spoke the truth. The twinge of worry he’d felt upon first meeting Hargreaves nearly a year ago returned in full to weigh on Ebenezer’s shoulders. His remorse bowed his head as if he were clapped in the stocks awaiting the end of a life’s sentence. And yet, a mote of hope remained in his breast.

“You are certain it was Hargreaves?”

“The nursemaid took a small purse from him and I saw his face. He drove up and rapped at the kitchen door. The nursemaid opened it, collected the purse and retreated inside. Then she came out with three boys in tow; three lads, Scrooge, not one over the age of five. Hargreaves must be stopped. I only wanted to speak to you and hear it from your lips before going to the constabulary.”

“But you can’t, Marley! They’ll find Rose’s body there, and—”

“Then we must act, ourselves. At the very least, we must confront this madman and tell him to cease his kidnapping. Of whatever else he may be guilty, I cannot guess, and fear to discover.”

“But he will accuse me of assisting in his crimes. With Rose’s body there, he will have no trouble bringing me to the gallows with him.”

“He has already done so. Clearly he has made use of your investment to purchase the orphans as cattle. If we cannot alert the constabulary, then we must stop him, Scrooge. We must.”

The cab driver took Ebenezer’s coin and clattered away into the foggy afternoon, the air palpable and brown. To Ebenezer, London proper had never seemed more distant.

“We must hasten, Scrooge.”

Ebenezer’s thoughts quickly returned to his own worries about Rose, and he rapped on Hargreaves’s door in the same pattern as before. No answer came from within, and they stood on the gravel until, presently, Marley suggested they approach from the side of the house.

“He must still be in the laboratory.”

“Indeed, and the gate is surely barred.”

“Hah!” Marley expelled the word as if it were a shot from a pistol. He stepped around Ebenezer to face the gate. The man stood nearly tall enough to peer over the barrier, and, leaning up on his toes, he could see the space within quite well. He gave a cry of surprise and began pushing on the gate with all his strength. Ebenezer did not seek explanation but leapt to lend his own strength to the effort, feeble though he felt next to the bulk of his cousin.

 The latch across the gate strained with their pushing, but it came loose at the last. Marley stumbled forward into the yard and Ebenezer followed. They turned and quickly pushed the gate to. Marley’s shout of surprise had carried also a degree of horror, and as Ebenezer surveyed the yard, he saw what had alarmed Marley so.

The horse and cart stood hitched beside the carriage house. In the cart, they saw clothing heaped in piles: jackets and boots, caps and shirts, trousers and knickers. All of it sized for children.

“Surely you believe me now, Scrooge.”

A sound came to their ears then, a heaving and grunting from within the carriage house. Light as if from a fire flickered within the windows in the carriage house doors. The side door stood open and to this Ebenezer and Marley crept, careful not to disturb the silence of the yard more than they had already done.

At the door, Marley stole forward and chanced a look within. He dashed forward then, bellowing a cry of accusation. Ebenezer followed, prepared to join whatever fray might await.

“Devil! Fiend!” Marley shouted, leveling a stout finger toward Hargreaves, who held in his hands the limp form of a child, and crouched before the mouth of the boiler’s furnace. Ebenezer could make out the shape of ashen bones among the embers and his gorge rose with his horror.

Hargreaves stood with the boy still in his arms. Ebenezer thought the child’s face appeared too old for one of his size, too withered and frail. Wrinkles furled his brow, and his cheeks sagged into jowls like those of an old man.

“You disrupt my work, Scrooge! And this ox you bring with you.”

“Better an ox than a devil!” Marley rejoined.

“Devil? Ha! I have only done as your partner requested. This is what you asked of me, Scrooge. And I have done it!”

 “Lies!” Ebenezer shouted, his voice faltering as he finished. “Lies. I made no such request as this, Hargreaves, and you know it. I only asked that my Rose be returned to me.”

“And she has been returned. Regard, Scrooge. Your wife!” Hargreaves aimed his chin behind the two men.

Behind the macabre twists of pipes and machinery sat a woman bound within the iron cabinet. Her face glowed, her ruddy cheeks accented by sparks emanating from the coils of wire atop the cases along the near wall. The sparks flew to collect on the post hanging overhead where they wrestled with each other, coursing in a frenzied whorl as if alive.

The woman’s eyes now glinted from within her reanimated face and reflected the flickering light, sending a haunting shiver through Ebenezer as he stared into her gaze.

A dressmaker’s dummy caged her torso and leather straps held her limbs to iron bars linked with clockwork and tubes. Steam occasionally hissed from each joint, punctuating the demonic glare on her face. She lifted her head to stare more directly at Ebenezer, and a sorrowful, plaintive moan escaped her lips, though her jaw did not move to open her mouth beyond a thin crack.

“Rose? But who is this woman, Hargreaves?” Ebenezer said, slowly stepping forward to lean against one of the chairs. He saw the woman more clearly now, and knew it to be other than his wife.

A grunt and cry of pain from behind him spun Ebenezer around, and he held to the chair for support. Marley staggered forward and fell onto the second chair. Hargreaves stood behind him, grinning like the madman Ebenezer knew him now to be. The child lay on the ground at his feet. Hargreaves held a syringe in his left hand.

“Help me move him, Scrooge,” Hargreaves commanded, indicating Marley’s unconscious form and drawing a knife from his belt with his free hand.

“Help me, Scrooge,” Hargreaves demanded. He stepped quickly to press the blade against Ebenezer’s throat. Unable to think of anything but his Rose and where she might be, Ebenezer nodded his submission. Hargreaves removed the knife and pushed Ebenezer towards his cousin’s limp figure, slumped over the chair.

Wrapping his arms around Marley, Ebenezer took comfort from the sensation of his cousin’s beating heart, and then he fell to sobbing. Hargreaves shouted urgent commands again, and Ebenezer felt himself obey, tugging with every ounce of his strength to help lift Marley and turn him over to a seated position in the chair.

Hargreaves pushed Ebenezer aside and fastened the bands around Marley’s wrists and chest. He finished by fitting the metal bonnet over his partner’s head. Ebenezer stood to the side, watching in horror as Hargreaves worked. Only when the madman had finished did Ebenezer’s senses return to him. He clapped his hands on Hargreaves’s shoulders, crying for him to stop.

Hargreaves spun around, revealing far more agility than a man of his age should possess. He knocked Ebenezer’s hands away and pounced forward, thrusting his left hand under Ebenezer’s guard and stabbing the syringe into his belly. Ebenezer instantly folded over in pain and slumped to the floor. The room darkened and constricted around a vanishing circle of light. As he fell to Hargreaves’s poison, his eyes swam in and out of focus around Marley’s face.

Ebenezer awoke to the sensation of his heart being pulled from his chest. A great suction seemed at work on him and he could not at first discern its source. The sight of Hargreaves closing the furnace door brought Ebenezer’s mind back to the present, though the dizziness persisted. He sat in one of the chairs, and Marley sat next to him. The madman, Hargreaves, stood facing the furnace, lost in thought and touching his fingertips with his thumb as if counting off a series of steps.