Rebel Mechanics (2 page)

I was entirely unprepared for the assault on my senses as I stepped out of the depot onto Forty-Second Street. Horse-drawn carriages and omnibuses and magical horseless carriages clattered up and down the street, their drivers ringing bells, sounding horns, and shouting. Smaller magical roadsters zipped in and out of the traffic, startling the horses. That many horses on the street left a pungent odor that competed with the smell of cooking from nearby restaurants and street stalls and a pall of smoke from coal fires that hung over the city. There were people packed shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk, all in a great hurry. Scattered through the crowds were the bright scarlet coats of British soldiers.

In spite of my grand ambitions, I now worried whether I was up to the challenge. The city was even bigger, more crowded, and noisier than I'd imagined, and I was so very much alone in those crowds. “I fought off a bandit,” I reminded myself as I consulted my map. When I spotted a lull in the traffic I darted across the street in the direction of my first interview.

A few streets away from the depot the traffic and noise were lighter, and once I entered an enclave of fine homes, the stench from horses was gone. Perhaps the city wasn't so intimidating after all, I thought. This wasn't too different from the neighborhood where I'd grown up. It was merely grander.

I soon found the first home on my list, the household that most closely met my criteria. According to my research, they were of the magical class but not titled nobility—probably descended from a younger son many generations back. I hoped that meant this family wasn't so high that they would never consider a relatively inexperienced professor's daughter as a governess. The house wasn't all that imposing, a modest brownstone.
I could be at home here,
I thought.

Feeling confident about my prospects, I boldly climbed the front steps and rang the bell. A moment later, a butler opened the door, and the way he scowled at me sapped my strength. “I'm Miss Verity Newton, here to see Mrs. Upton. We have an appointment. She's expecting me,” I blurted, all in one breath.

He said, “I'm sorry, but Mrs. Upton instructed me to tell you that the position has been filled,” then closed the door before I could protest.

“But she never even interviewed me,” I whispered plaintively to the closed door. To hide my disappointment, I marched down the steps, my head held high, then strode down the sidewalk with a sense of purpose. This was only the first interview. I still had six more, and none of them could go as badly as this one.

At the next interview, I made it into the house before I was informed that I was far too young to be suitable for the position. That was a slight improvement. The next interview went even better, as I wasn't rejected outright but rather told that I would be considered. It was only after I left that I realized they would have no way to contact me if they decided to hire me. They had only my New Haven address from my initial letter of application, and no one there would know how to reach me.

I kept ringing bells and smiling my way through interviews until there was just one name left on the list, a Mrs. Talbot who was housekeeper for Lord Henry Lyndon. Although I had never imagined I might be employed in the home of a titled gentleman, Mrs. Talbot's response to my inquiry had been encouraging. The address was much farther uptown, on Fifth Avenue at Seventy-Seventh Street. I headed toward Fifth Avenue, leaving behind the clean, quiet neighborhood and reentering the clamor of the city.

When I reached the avenue and got my bearings, I realized that my destination was nearly forty blocks away. My feet cried out for mercy at the thought of that long a walk. I saw a horse-drawn omnibus approaching and decided I could spare a few pennies to avoid walking that far.

The bus stopped and I stepped forward and asked the conductor, “Excuse me, but do you go up to Seventy-Seventh Street?”

“Sorry, miss, but horses aren't allowed above Fifty-Ninth on Fifth Avenue. The magisters don't like the mess in their neighborhoods.” One of his team proceeded to demonstrate exactly what mess he meant, and I averted my eyes. The prohibition on horses in magister neighborhoods explained the clean streets where I'd just been. “Though, if you ask me,” he added more softly, “it's their way of keepin' the likes of us out of their part of town.” Back in a louder voice, he said, “There's an uptown bus on Third Avenue that'll go to Seventy-Seventh.”

I frowned, puzzled. “But if that bus goes to Seventy-Seventh, why not this one?”

“Only magisters live around the park up there. Farther east, it's just regular people—that is, until more magisters move uptown and shove them out. You can take a cab.” He gestured as a magically powered carriage passed, looking rather naked without any horses pulling it. I knew my budget wouldn't extend that far. As the bus rattled away, I allowed myself a weary sigh before gathering my strength to walk to Third Avenue to catch the bus there.

“Hey, miss!” a voice behind me said, and I turned cautiously. A newsboy stood nearby, a stack of papers at his feet and several held so he could display the headlines to passersby. The banner at the top declared it to be the
World
, a newspaper with which I was unfamiliar. He wore a flat cap pulled low over his forehead. Dark hair straggled past his collar in the back, and his thin face was smeared with ink and dirt.

He gave me a cheeky wink as he raised the papers he held and shouted to a passing man, “Parliament renews the colonial tax act! Straight off the ether from London! How will it really affect us? You won't read the truth anywhere else!” The man tossed him a coin, which he deftly caught while handing over a copy of the paper. The customer folded the paper and tucked it inside the breast of his coat as he walked away. When the customer was gone, the boy said, “You're tryin' to get up to magpie land by the park?”

I assumed that “magpie” was his slang term for the magisters. “Yes, I am.”

“What would you wanna do that for?”

“I have an interview for a position as governess.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You want to work for the magpies?”

“I want to work for someone who will hire me.” I couldn't help but allow my discouragement to creep into my voice. “Now I suppose I had better start walking or I'll be late for my interview.”

“Don't go just yet.” He glanced around, then gestured for me to come closer. “You can get a ride from here if you wait. Some friends of mine'll be along any minute now.” He flicked a small gear wheel with a red ribbon tied through it that was pinned to his oversize coat and waggled his eyebrows like he was conveying some hidden meaning. I wasn't sure what the significance of the gear was, but I nodded as though I understood. “Ah, I had you figured for one of us,” he said with a grin. He stuck out a hand blackened with newspaper ink. “The name's Nat.”

I shook his hand, grateful that I'd worn black gloves instead of white. “And I'm Verity.”

A shrill whistle rent the air, and Nat gave a satisfied nod. “Here they come, right on time. Wait'll you see this, Verity.”

With a screech and a shudder, an enormous metal contraption lumbered to a stop beside us. A horizontal cylinder on huge spoked wheels belched smoke from a chimney on top, and steam billowed from vents on the sides. Two men rode on the machine, one steering while the other monitored a series of gauges. An omnibus like the horse-drawn one was hitched to this monstrosity.

Nat rushed forward and called out to the man studying the gauges. “Hey, Alec! I've got a friend here who needs a lift to magpie land. You can take her, can't you? You're goin' that way anyhow.”

I couldn't see Alec's reaction because a large pair of brass goggles obscured most of his face and his attention was focused on his device. “We might not be stopping when we're there,” he said as he worked.

A head in a bowler hat emerged from the doorway of the bus. “Did you say this charming young lady needs a ride?” The speaker swept the hat off his head, revealing a shock of bright red hair and a young face spattered with freckles.

“I need to get to Seventy-Seventh Street,” I said shakily, wondering if perhaps I'd fallen asleep on the train and had dreamed everything from the robbery until now. This was all so very strange.

Nat added, “Verity's tryin' to be a governess, and she's gonna be late for her interview.”

The red-haired young man gave me a look of theatrically exaggerated pity and held his hat against his heart. “Oh, you poor dear. You're too pretty to be a governess. Ah, but I suppose you're the independent type and won't settle for letting a man take care of you.”

I couldn't help but smile, and I felt my cheeks warm in a furious blush. I'd never in my life been called pretty. I was admired for my cleverness rather than my appearance. I suspected he was what romantic novels called a flirt, but I didn't think he meant any harm, even if he didn't mean what he said. “You flatter me,” I said. “I have no choice but to make my own way in the world.”

With a saucy wink he replied, “Well, if you change your mind about finding a man to take care of you, let me know, and I'll submit my application. The name's Colin Flynn, and if ever you want me just ask around, and I'll be there.”

While we were talking, a few people who had been milling around on the sidewalk approached the bus. Colin replaced his hat on his head and stepped down. “One at a time, people!” he called out, his tone switching from flirt to officious conductor. “All aboard for a voyage into the future.”

As the people stepped up to Colin, they each flicked something on their lapels. A closer study revealed that they were gears on red ribbons, like the one Nat wore. Colin also wore one on the breast of his frayed morning coat, but his gear was much larger and his ribbon much wider. When all the passengers had boarded, Colin turned to address the man tinkering with the gauges. “Have you got Bessie all stoked up, Alec?”

“One minute more, Colin. Look out for some competition.”

Colin returned his attention to me. “And now, if you will step aboard my humble conveyance, we will take you on a journey you won't soon forget.”

“How much is the fare?” I asked.

“Today we're offering a complimentary demonstration run. It's an experimental project. We're engineering students at the university.”

I hesitated. I needed reliable transportation, not an experiment. “That's very kind of you—” I began, but Nat grabbed my arm.

“Go on, Verity. Trust me. Bessie'll get you there.”

“I assure you, it's quite safe,” Colin added. “All the explosions happened in the lab. We've had no trouble with the full-size model.”

The idea of explosions wasn't very reassuring, but I didn't know how else I would make it to my interview on time, and I
had
to get this job. “Very well, then,” I said as firmly as I could manage, in spite of my misgivings. “I accept your kind offer of transportation.”

He grinned, sweeping his hat off his head and giving me a gallant bow. “Welcome aboard, Verity. And be prepared to make history.”

 

IN WHICH I LAND AMONGST MECHANICS

Colin seated me at the front of the bus, next to a girl about my age. “This is Verity,” he said to her. “Look after her.” To me, he added, “This is my sister, Lizzie. Pinch her if she gives you any trouble.”

“Ignore him, I always do,” she said with an air of much-tested patience. She shared her brother's bright hair, freckles, and lanky build. A notebook rested on her knee, and she held a pencil. Another pencil was stuck behind her ear.

Most of the other passengers on the crowded bus were young men, and the few women were not at all what my mother would have considered proper ladies. They wore the wildest clothing, a mix of pieces that seemed as though they'd dug them from a rag pile with their eyes closed and then dressed in the dark. The men mixed formal wear with working attire, and some of the women wore their elaborately decorated corsets
outside
their blouses. A few of them wore skirts that fell well above their ankles. There was one woman near the back of the bus who looked out of place in the dull black of a widow in deepest mourning, with a black veil obscuring her face.

The engine made louder sounds, and more steam and smoke billowed from it—so much that I feared it would explode. Alec patted the man at the controls on the shoulder, then tapped on the front window to signal Colin. Colin acknowledged him with a nod, secured his hat on his head, and pulled a pair of goggles from his hat brim down over his eyes. He shut the door, then turned to face his passengers. “Ladies and gentlemen—and the rest of you lot,” he shouted above the rumble of the engine. “We are about to embark on a great venture, one that will prove us to be the equal of any thieving magpie. What they do with magic, we have built with our own ingenuity. They think to shut us out of their districts with their laws, but this bus violates no law—yet. I'm sure they'll think of something after today.” The passengers chuckled, and one or two shouted obscenities coarse enough to make me gasp.

“If there was any doubt as to why we do this, look to our guest.” He pointed at me, and my skin prickled as I sensed every eye on the bus focusing on me. “This young lady here is the perfect example of our cause. She seeks honest employment at a home in magpie land, but how is she to get there for the interview? The cabs that can go there are too expensive for common folk, and the buses that do convey the common folk aren't allowed to violate their precious streets because they're drawn by horses. This is why we've devoted our knowledge and skills toward this momentous day, creating an engine powerful enough to pull a bus without being powered by magic. Now, hang on to your seats, because here we go!”

The engine grew even louder, making
chug-chug
sounds. After a long, piercing blast of the whistle, the engine strained forward, dragging the bus with it. At first it crept, as though moving was a struggle, but then it built momentum. The bus drew up alongside a magical carriage that had the coat of arms of a noble house painted on its door and a driver in livery seated in front. It looked like the passenger compartment was empty. Colin leaned out the bus window and called, “Nice toy you have there. Do you know what it can do?”