Rebel Mechanics (23 page)

“Henry isn't that bad, though I will agree that he's not exactly a romantic hero,” Elinor said with a laugh.

Without thinking, I leaped to his defense, blurting, “I could imagine him being quite dashing, under the right circumstances.” They both stared at me, and I felt my face flaming. No matter what I said, my blush would make it sound like a weak denial of true feelings, and I didn't dare give the real reason I knew Henry wasn't as boring as they thought. Flora's glare chilled me, but Elinor gave me a little smile before putting the book aside and saying, “Enough about the book. We should discuss the truly important topics. There's to be a ball!”

“A ball?” Flora said, her eyes lighting up as she completely forgot about me.

“Yes! With all those soldiers coming in—they're bringing over the Third Division from England, which should arrive this weekend, and the Special Brigade from India, since they have experience with insurrections—Father feels he should host a ball to welcome the officers. It will be two weeks from yesterday. That's not much warning, but it's not meant to be a grand affair, merely an impromptu entertainment.”

“Will I be invited?” Flora asked, wringing her hands anxiously.

“Of course, you goose. You're the governor's granddaughter. And with all those officers about, I'm certain you'll have to attend, as well, Verity. Magisters seldom enter the military, so I'm afraid few of the officers will be appropriate for you, Flora. They do make good dancing partners, though. But, Verity, you might find a husband. No one ranking below major, of course. You'll want some polish and seasoning.”

“I'm not in the market for a husband,” I said.

“Why ever not?” Elinor turned to Flora with a conspiratorial wink. “Do you suppose she already has a suitor?”

“She does seem to go out quite often,” Flora said slyly. “Olive said she met a boy in the park once.”

“Oh, really? Verity, do tell.”

I would have preferred not to answer, but this seemed my best opportunity to recover from my earlier faux pas about Henry. “I do have a friend I see from time to time. He's a student at the university, and he's quite brilliant.”

“Even if you do have a suitor, it will be good if he finds himself in competition with a dashing young officer. He'll have to work harder to win you.” Elinor leaned back against her pillows and picked up a lace fan. “I don't know what having all those soldiers in the city will do to the civic order. Most of them are merely well-disciplined and well-dressed ruffians, if you ask me. There are far too many soldiers to fit in the barracks, even on Governor's Island. I hear they're commandeering the student housing around the university. That area seems to be where the troublemakers are, so I suppose that's a good enough plan. Though your friend might be inconvenienced, Verity.”

Flora didn't give her a chance to say anything more about the military plans. She directed the conversation back to the ball itself. “It won't be a costume ball, will it? Those are so tiresome.”

“Why would we have a costume ball when all the men will be wearing uniforms? Any man can be handsome in a uniform.” Elinor smiled at me. “And now Verity is wondering how I know so much when I never leave my bed. I maintain a circle of friends. It's amazing how readily people share things with someone they don't think is in communication with anyone else in society.”

“Their coats are red, so I should make sure my gown doesn't clash with red,” Flora mused, off in her own world of modistes and fashion plates. “I would hate to form an unattractive picture while I'm dancing.” Then she gasped. “Henry will allow me to go, won't he?”

“He'll have to come himself. This is one occasion when I doubt Father will allow him to plead illness—or any other excuse. You are, however, on your own when it comes to persuading him that you need a new ball gown. He'll insist that since the ball is to welcome newcomers, none of them will have seen any of your old gowns, and I'm afraid I can't disagree. Don't you have a lovely white gown? That would show well against the red uniforms. Since there's hardly any time, you certainly wouldn't be the only one without a new gown.”

I didn't have any ball gowns at all. I wondered if I was expected, as a chaperone, to dress for the ball. I doubted I could count on Lord Henry's knowledge of society's rules for that. I thought I might be able to consult Lady Elinor on the subject, but I didn't want to sound like I was angling to get a new gown. I was sure Flora would interpret it that way, no matter what I said.

I could hardly believe it when Lady Elinor then said, “As it is, I hope there will be enough time for Verity to get a gown made. The invitations haven't gone out yet, so you'll have a head start with the modiste. I'll make an appointment for you with one I know. You may have to go to her studio as all these travel restrictions will make life difficult for her. She'll know what's appropriate for a chaperone these days. In my time, they were all bitter old hags, not lovely young ladies like you.”

Elinor and Flora talked a while longer about the latest styles, until Elinor said, “Oh my, it's getting late. You should be getting home, but you must visit me again.”

As soon as we were in the carriage, Flora said, “I don't know what Aunt Elinor was up to choosing that book, but don't get any ideas. It doesn't work that way in real life.”

“Do you mean your uncle isn't keeping his mad wife in the attic?” I replied, perhaps more sharply than I should have.

“You know exactly what I mean,” she snapped. “Henry may be eccentric, but he wouldn't go that far in doing something that would disgrace his family.”

“As you so kindly told your aunt, I have a suitor, so you have nothing to worry about on that account,” I said, firmly enough to end the conversation. We traveled the rest of the way in silence as I stewed over what I should do with Lady Elinor's intelligence.

Lord Henry had returned while we were out. He, Olive, and Rollo were in the family parlor when we arrived home. Flora burst into the room with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “Grandfather's going to give a ball! For all the officers! And I'm to be invited! Please, Henry, say I may go!”

Only after she'd blurted all this did she take in the situation. Henry and Rollo, both with large pink flowers in their lapels, sat on the sofa holding dainty teacups, while Olive wore a flower-bedecked hat and sat on a nearby chair. “We had our own tea party,” Olive announced proudly. Rollo scowled, but Henry looked tired. Wherever he'd been, he hadn't been resting.

“I can hardly give you permission to attend when you haven't received an invitation,” Henry said mildly.

Flora swept over to perch on the edge of the sofa next to her uncle. “Oh, but I must go!”

“I want to go to a ball,” Olive said. “I could wear a pretty dress and dance all night.” She sighed wistfully, then turned to her brother and said in a childish imitation of proper ladylike tones, “Would you care for more tea, Lord Roland?”

“No more tea; it's almost time for dinner,” Lord Henry said. He sent the children up to their rooms, and I moved to go to my own room, but he caught my eye, indicating he wished for me to stay. “How did Flora do?” he asked.

“Very well. Her aunt was pleased. I trust your journey was pleasant?”

“This one wasn't about pleasure, I'm afraid. But I may have to travel again soon.”

I hoped he would stay home for a few days. When he was away, I had more responsibilities with the children, which complicated my efforts to communicate with the rebels, and I needed to pass on my new information as soon as possible.

 

IN WHICH I DISCOVER A DREADFUL DECEPTION

Much to my surprise, Flora provided the opportunity for me to meet the rebels. The next day at lunch she informed me that she'd heard from Lady Elinor, who had arranged an appointment for me with her modiste that afternoon. “There really is no time to lose,” Flora insisted. “It's already too late to have a new gown of the finest quality, but in two weeks she can do something for a chaperone that won't embarrass me.”

The modiste's studio was near Union Square, not too far from the Mechanics' headquarters, and that gave me the perfect opportunity to deliver my intelligence. My hopes sank, though, when Flora continued, “And if I must wear an old dress, I need some new ribbons for it. I should go with Miss Newton and purchase the ribbons. There's one shop in the city that has what I want, and it is near the modiste's.”

This time, I owed my thanks to Lord Henry. “I won't have you going down there,” he said. “Miss Newton can purchase the ribbons if you write a note for the shopkeeper. I will call for a cab and provide a pass for Miss Newton to reenter our neighborhood.”

He came down the front steps with me when the cab arrived, and for a moment I feared he would insist on coming with me, but instead he glanced around as though making sure no one was listening, then said softly, “I hope I'm not imposing on you if I ask you to carry out an errand for me, as well.”

“Of course not. I would be only too happy to help.”

He handed me a small parcel. “Please deliver this to a bookshop near the university for me. The address is on the tag.”

“This person is expecting it?”

“Yes.” He shifted uncomfortably, then didn't quite look me in the eye as he added, “But he doesn't know who's sending it. The transaction is rather, um, under the table, so to speak. Not illegal, though. The discretion is more due to, uh, class divides.” He leaned closer to me. “I appreciate your assistance, but I also trust your good sense. Don't take any unnecessary chances. If it seems dangerous there, don't worry about either my errand or Flora's ribbons.” He handed me up into the cab, negotiated a fare with the driver and paid it in advance, then gave me money for the return fare.

The modiste called herself Madame Flambeau, but she only smiled nervously when I greeted her in French, so I switched to English without comment. Her speech was accented heavily with Irish, with the occasional French word thrown in, not always used in a way that made sense, and her hair matched her name. Even if she wasn't truly French, she did seem to know her craft.

“A chaperone's gown should be simple, not showy, no?” she said. “No lace for you.” She lowered her voice like she was sharing a secret. “There's too much lace being used in this city, if you ask me, but that's what they want, and they're the ones paying the bills, so lace I give them. You are not a lady for lace, I think. Far too practical.”

Although I didn't much like lace, I couldn't help but bristle at her assessment of me as too practical. I imagined her putting me in a slightly fancier version of the kinds of day dresses I usually wore, but she returned from her back room with a bolt of cloth the color of new leaves in springtime and draped it around my shoulders. The silk fell in supple folds, and I sighed with pleasure. “Yes, that is the color for you,” she said with a nod. “It brings out your eyes.” Then she showed me a fashion plate of perhaps the most beautiful gown I'd ever seen. It was simple, but so very elegant with a sweetheart neckline, snug-fitting bodice, a slight bustle, and a swirl of skirts. “Do you like?” she asked.

“Oh, yes!” I said, thinking it was a pity Alec wouldn't see me in this gown. Madame Flambeau took measurements and sent me on my way, telling me to come back in a week for a fitting, assuming the rebels hadn't burned down the city by then.

The shop selling Flora's ribbons lay beyond the barriers. British soldiers were checking credentials of people heading uptown, but they waved me into the downtown zone with a firm “Be careful, miss. There are ruffians about.”

This part of town looked very different from the way I'd last seen it. Rebel Mechanics banners now hung from windows and fire escapes, along with the white banners smeared with red paint to symbolize blood. Almost every available wall surface was covered in posters and signs, pasted over each other in a mad collage. The posters urged citizens to resist British rule, reminded people that British troops had fired on colonial children, and promoted the benefits of machinery over magic.

The streets were oddly quiet, with none of the usual bustle, and most of the shop doors remained shut. I decided to carry out my errand for Lord Henry first, as I was nervous about having his parcel with me. The address on the parcel was a few blocks down Broadway. The bookshop didn't appear to be open. The front door was locked, and I saw no lights or signs of life through the small gaps between posters on the front windows.

I doubted Lord Henry would have sent me to the wrong address, so I pulled the bell and waited for a response. I jumped and barely swallowed a scream when an eye appeared in a narrow triangle between two Rebel Mechanics posters on the front window. I took the parcel from my bag and held it up. The door suddenly flew open and a hand reached out to grab me and pull me inside. Before I knew it, the door had closed behind me.

The shop was dim, lit only by the light coming through the transom. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the meager light so I could make out the tall, lanky man with sparse yellowish hair facing me. “I was wondering if we'd get that,” he said, grabbing my parcel. “Were there difficulties?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” I replied. “I'm merely a courier. Now I must be on my way. Have a good day, sir.” He stepped out of the way and opened the door. It closed so quickly behind me after my exit that it nearly caught the tail of my skirt.

The ribbon shop was several blocks farther downtown. The front door was locked there, as well, and after I tapped on the glass, the curtains were pulled aside ever so slightly so that the proprietor could peer out at me. Then the door opened a crack. “What do you want?” a voice quavering with age asked.