The Brass Giant (20 page)

“I have been a bit busy as of late, Josephine,” he said, pouring himself a cup of tea. “And I'm afraid that my visit today is on business, not leisure.” He gestured toward Petra. “This young lady is looking for work. I thought her presence might be welcome, as we are now short a maid.” He blew on the steaming tea and took a sip, eyeing Josephine over the teacup rim. “Can I leave her in your care? Mother will soon be wondering why I am not at dinner.”

The girl bowed her head. “Of course, Master Emmerich.”

“I will inform Kristiane that she is here by my appointment. I expect her to be ready for work in the morning.” He drained the last of his tea and placed the cup back on the tray. “For now, I must go. Thank you for the tea.”

“Thank you for the pleasure of your visit, Master Emmerich,” said Josephine, curtseying.

He inclined his head toward Josephine and then to Petra, and without another word left the sitting room. Petra felt suddenly empty without him, misplaced and ignored. She understood why he couldn't show her affection in front of his servants, especially if they expected her to be a maid, but the lack of a proper farewell put a slight ache in her chest.

Josephine exhaled a deep breath the moment he disappeared down the hall. “Well, I suppose we should get you settled,” she said brightly. “I have to tend to the fires after dinner, so we don't have long to acquaint ourselves, but I can show you to your room.”

She shuffled down the hall and snapped her fingers when Petra did not follow. She led her through a door at the end of the hall and into a small bedroom. “This is where you'll be sleeping, sharing with me. We have a spare bed now; one of our girls recently married. No more mopping floors or cleaning fireplaces for her,” she said with a smile. She shuffled to a wardrobe on the back wall and threw open the doors. “Here is your standard uniform. Keep it clean and wrinkle-­free. The mistress of the household is most particular about the state of our uniforms.”

Petra touched the soft fabric, much nicer than the clothes she and her siblings owned. Josephine then explained the extensive rules of the household and the maids' duties. She seemed to speak in one single breath, stringing her words together until they were barely understandable.

“Are there many servants here?” asked Petra.

“Oh yes. Kristiane is the housekeeper. She's in charge of all of us. Biddy is our cook, probably the best in the city. There's Meriel, the mistress's maid, and Sarah, Victoria's maid. Then there is Harriet and me, and now you.” She smiled sweetly. “Actually, you may not meet Meriel and Sarah for some time. The mistress and Victoria are preparing to leave for America soon. I think they'll be gone about a month. It will just be Master Emmerich and his father, and we don't see much of him these days either.” When Petra did not respond, she continued, “Well, if that's all you need, I need to go light the fires. There may be a bit of leftover supper in the kitchen.”

“Thank you, Josephine.”

“Oh, call me Josie. Everyone here does, except Master Emmerich. He says—­” She blushed. “He says Josephine is a lovely name, and it's worth taking the time to say.” Josie fanned her face. “I should be off. It was nice to meet you . . .” She trailed off. “I'm sorry. I didn't get your name.” She extended her hand.

“Pe—­” Petra stopped herself before giving her real name, and instead gave the first false one she could think of, shaking the girl's hand. “Penelope.”

“Nice to meet you, Penelope. Stay out of the others' way until you get the hang of things. We've managed with just the six of us, so you've time to catch up. Kristiane should be down shortly to better explain how things work around here. Go ahead and get changed, and I'll see you later.” She disappeared around the corner, leaving Petra alone in her new quarters.

Petra changed into one of the maids' uniforms and removed her mother's ring, knowing she couldn't wear it while pretending to be a servant. She found a hank of yarn in the bottom of the wardrobe and quickly crafted a crude necklace to keep the ring safe around her neck until she could return it to Mr. Stricket. She hoped he would not be cross with her for taking it.

Kristiane came downstairs soon after, visiting Petra in her room. “It's nice to see you again, Miss Wade,” she said, her smile kind. “Though I hadn't expected it would be like this.”

“Neither did I.”

“Have you eaten supper?” she asked.

Petra shook her head.

“Well, then I'll take you to the kitchens. You can have yourself a good hot meal and meet Biddy and the other girls while they clean up.” She gestured to the door. “Come along.”

 

Chapter 17

T
HE K
ITCHEN WAS
a clamor of silverware, rushing sink water, and clacking plates. Two women stood in front of the sink and cabinets, washing dishes and eating leftovers. Petra's mouth watered when she entered, the savory smell of lamb stew and potato pasties attacking her full force, mingling with the sharp smell of soap.

Kristiane fetched her a bowl and half a potato pasty for her supper. She sipped the broth-­heavy stew, a bit of celery and carrot floating in the bowl. The food alone was worth staying here as a maid. She'd never eaten so well, and by the time she finished, the waist of her skirt felt too tight.

After putting the bowl away, Petra introduced herself as Penelope to the other women—­Harriet, a lanky, brown-­haired girl, and Biddy, stocky, freckled, and ginger-­haired. They were both fairly young, most likely in their early twenties, and they seemed rather nice.

“So, what brings you to the Goss household?” asked Biddy.

Petra glanced at Kristiane, but the older woman's face was unreadable. “Emmerich—­erm—­Mr. Goss thought I might like to work here.”

Harriet smile sweetly. “Oh, we call him Emmerich down here,” she said in a twanging, foreign accent, strange on Petra's ear. “And he's quite the handsome fellow, isn't he?”

Petra's cheeks reddened as she stammered a reply. “Well, I—­”

“Oh, she thinks so too, doesn't she?” teased Biddy. “We all think so, and who wouldn't? It would be easy to fall in love with a man like that.”

“I already have,” said Harriet, taking Biddy by the hand and dragging her into a waltz. She sighed. “How I would love to be the one to marry that boy.”

“Too bad he's already married to his work.”

“I could be his second love,” she said, smiling dreamily. “We could elope to the countryside and have a half dozen children, all strong boys like him. They would be ever so handsome—­and smart.”

“And take him away from the city?” said Biddy, twirling Harriet around the kitchen. “You know he'd never leave.”

Harriet sighed. “A girl can dream, can't she?”

They continued to dance, giggling and professing their love to an absent Emmerich, and Petra couldn't help but laugh. It felt good to forget her troubles, if only for a brief moment.

If only they knew the truth.

Kristiane rubbed her fingers into her temples. “I'm sorry about them,” she said, pulling her hair into a tighter bun. “They like to fuss over Master Emmerich. Both of them dream of marrying a gentleman, and who knows? Maybe they will.”

Petra helped Kristiane put the clean dishes away while Harriet and Biddy finished wiping the kitchen down. Once the girls left to attend to their nightly duties, Kristiane led Petra to a small, stark bedroom downstairs, closing the door behind them. She offered Petra a seat.

“Now, I have told the mistress she has another maid in her employ, so you are expected to start work in the morning. However, she and Miss Victoria are leaving on holiday soon, so they will not be a concern for long. Though while they are still here, you will be expected to clean as if you are a maid, if only for a morning.”

Fair enough, Petra thought. She could manage cleaning. She had spent years keeping the pawnshop clean, as well as cleaning up after her siblings at home. She doubted the Goss family was anywhere near as messy as her own.

“And Mr. Goss?”

“He does not often frequent the household during the day, attending to Guild business at the University and the downtown office, but on the occasion that he is here, I will be sure to keep him from discovering your presence.” Kristiane smoothed the front of her dress and looked at Petra more directly. “Now, Master Emmerich did not have time to tell me why exactly he brought you here, but I can expect that in light of what happened at the University, he hopes to keep you safe. He did say he required . . .” She paused, her face reddening slightly. “ . . . uninterrupted privacy with you when he was home.”

Petra felt her cheeks flush. He should have said something else—­
anything
else. She fought to keep a straight face, swallowing her sudden embarrassment. “For private conversation. That's all he meant.”

Kristiane fidgeted. “It isn't proper for a gentleman to spend unchaperoned time with a young woman, no matter her class or the situation.”

“I know it's not proper, Kristiane, but we don't have much of a choice.”

“I understand as much, and it is my duty to do as Master Emmerich asks, so I must allow these meetings, even if I do not approve.” She inhaled a deep breath and straightened. “Now, get some sleep, miss. We must rise early if we're to get anything done.”

Kristiane opened the door and let Petra out, and when Petra returned to her own bedroom, she found Josie changing into her nightgown.

With a dimpled smile, the girl climbed into bed and, yawning, snuggled beneath her covers. “Night, Penelope.”

“Good night, Josie.”

After changing out of her uniform, Petra stayed awake, sitting cross-­legged atop her blankets as she fiddled with her mother's ring. She stared at the mirror near the door and at Josie's sleeping form reflected in it. Since arriving, she hardly had the time to think of anything beyond introductions and acquainting herself with the house, the staff, and the many rules, but now her stomach squirmed, the reality of her predicament suddenly looming over her. She was in the lion's den, so to speak. If Mr. Goss caught even a hint that she might be here, if he caught sight of her, he would know in an instant she was an imposter, a criminal. He'd have her at the gallows before she could speak a word of protest.

She slipped beneath the covers and settled her head on the pillow, her thoughts drifting to Emmerich. She hoped he knew what he was doing.

K
RISTI
ANE DRAGGED
P
ETRA
out of bed a quarter to five.

“Put on your uniform and comb your hair,” she said.

Josie was already out of bed, changing into her maid uniform. Petra lumbered to the wardrobe and dressed indiscreetly. She was too tired to think. A cold shower would wake her up, but she didn't have time. She put her stockings on inside out, tied her shoelaces in knots, and misaligned her blouse buttons before she managed to properly dress. Kristiane did her hair for her, and Petra felt her scalp stretch tight over her skull as Kristiane pulled her hair into a most severe bun, securing it with sharp hairpins. The sooner she and Emmerich managed to follow through with their plans, the better. She wasn't sure she could take another session of Kristiane's hairstyling.

Petra met Harriet in the parlor, and her work began. She emptied baths, scrubbed floors, washed dishes, shoveled ash, brushed carpets, swept the stairs, and dusted every inch of furniture in the house twice over. Harriet turned out to be a stickler for cleanliness. Petra wasn't finished with each task until Harriet could see her reflection in every surface, even the fireplace grates and bathtub porcelain. She tottered to lunch bruised, aching, and smelling harshly of lime soap.

Mrs. Goss and Victoria took forever to eat their cold pork sandwiches and butter cakes, cutting dainty slices of sandwich rather than eating with their hands—­heaven forbid. Emmerich finished his meal first and waited politely for his mother and sister to eat the last of their food, stealing furtive glances at Petra while he sipped water from his glass. She imagined they held a private, inaudible conversation with their eyes. He asked her how she fared, and she replied she was getting on well, thanks. He laughed heartily and offered to take her for a stroll, to which she amiably agreed on the condition they wait until after lunch, for it was rude to leave the dinner table mid-­meal.

Emmerich raised his empty glass. Petra glanced at Harriet and Josie, both preoccupied with their respective activities, a slight snoring escaping Josie's lips. She had avoided serving Emmerich so she would not draw attention to herself, but now she had no choice. The water carafe sat on a small, spindly legged table in the corner of the dining room. As quietly and gracefully as she could, she balanced the carafe on her serving tray and traversed to the other side of the table.

Emmerich placed his glass near the table's edge, not daring to look directly at her. She set the tray on the stretch of unused table and dutifully poured Emmerich a fresh glass of water, trying to do so as innocuously as possible, but as she filled the glass, his fingers brushed her skirts, delicately tracing the outline of her knee through the layers of fabric. Infernal petticoats. Shivers danced across her legs and up her spine. She fought not to smile, biting her lip as she readjusted the carafe on the tray. As she stepped away, she felt the tug of Emmerich's grasp on her skirts. If there weren't four other ­people in the room, she would have gladly tossed the serving tray aside and tumbled into his arms. Soon enough Mrs. Goss and Victoria would be gone, and she would have her time with Emmerich—­blissful, uninterrupted privacy. Endless time to kiss him, hold him, breathe him in.

She placed the carafe back on the table in the corner and returned to her section of wall, fighting to keep a smile down.

At last Mrs. Goss rose from her seat. “Victoria,
belle
, fetch your riding attire. The carriage should be here shortly.”

The carriage was a newly minted steam car, the
La Rapide
, the latest model from French inventor Amédée-­Ernest Bollée. Petra stared in awe at the vehicle through the window, wishing she could have a closer look. It was a beautiful, monstrous thing, with a base similar to a horse carriage. The driver's seat was situated behind the engine, and the passengers' seats were above the rear wheels, curtained and cushioned. She itched to take it apart and study it. She never saw modern vehicles in the city; most of the streets were too small to allow two cars to pass side by side, the citizens depending instead on steam rickshaws for transportation.

Emmerich stood at the front of the vehicle, deep in conversation with the driver. He had an engineer's mind, always curious. Mrs. Goss and Victoria directed the footman's handling of their luggage, placed in a compartment beneath the passengers' seats. Once satisfied, they both hugged and kissed Emmerich—­Mr. Goss was nowhere to be seen—­and boarded the vehicle, sitting in the rear with their hands daintily folded over their laps and their skirts laid neatly over the seats. Petra was glad to see them go.

Once they had gone, Emmerich bounded up the front steps and met Petra in the dining room. He took her by the waist and spun her around, unabashedly planting a kiss on her lips, which she gladly returned.

“Finally,” he said, grinning. “I thought they'd never leave.” He set her down gently and grabbed her by the hand. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

With the other servants downstairs enjoying the freedom of a mostly empty house, Emmerich and Petra raced up the stairs, giggling and shushing one another as they climbed. Petra enjoyed the frivolity of it. It had been a long while since she had felt so at ease. Emmerich had that effect on her. Just being in his presence felt right.

At the top of the stairs, Emmerich leaned over the railing to see if anyone had come up from the servants' hall. Grinning, he turned back to Petra, lifted her in his arms and kissed her. His enthusiasm was irresistible, and she returned the kiss wildly, her fingers roaming through his soft hair, pulling him closer, inhaling the very breath of him, never wishing for their lips to part. Emmerich backed into the bedroom door and hoisted her into one arm as he fumbled with the door handle behind him, never taking his lips from hers. The door finally opened, and he carried her into a dimly lit room imbued with the scents of dusty books, metal polish, and ink.

Petra smiled widely, ending the kiss.

Emmerich regarded her. “What is it?”

“I missed you,” she breathed.

He lowered her to her feet, and without letting go of her waist, reached around her hair and pulled her bun free, letting the amber curls fall down past her shoulders. “I missed you too,” he said, tenderly taking her face into his hands and kissing her lightly on the lips. Taking her by the shoulders, he slowly faced her away from him and pulled her close, his chest pressed against her back. “Petra, I'd like to welcome you to my study,” he said, gesturing to the room. “My one place of solitude in this house.”

A desk sat in the middle of the room, littered with pages of schematics and design utensils. Bookshelves lined the study walls, hundreds of books stretching floor to ceiling, a dozen brass tickers gleaming along the shelves in the electric light.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“It's marvelous.”

He removed himself from her and crossed the study, plucking a stiff-­legged horse from one of the shelves. “This is the first machine I ever built.” He placed the device on the floor, lifted the hinged saddle, and wound the key within. Immediately, the horse rattled to life, clip-­clopping across the floor as its back legs propelled it forward.

“My uncle helped me build it when he first brought me to the University,” he said, picking the horse up off the floor, holding it delicately in his hands as if it was something of great value. “He said I had a knack for engineering and helped nurture that talent. My dream was always to bring machines to life, to create perfect imitations of living things, capable of functioning like their real-­life counterparts.” He returned the horse to the shelf and touched a marionette-­sized automaton. “I never wanted to build a weapon.”

“Tell me about your uncle,” she said.

A smile replaced the growing frown on his face. “He was a master clockwork engineer, rivaled only by your mother. He taught me mechanics when I was young, only four when he first began lecturing me on gears and pinions, axes of rotation and involute curves. I was seven when he died.” Emmerich sighed. “He was the only person I ever truly cared about, more than my own mother and father, I am not ashamed to admit.” He glanced at Petra, a sad smile on his lips. “Until now anyway.”