Rebel Mechanics (27 page)

The bookseller took his time wrapping the books in brown paper, whistling tunelessly between his teeth while he wound the package with twine and tied it off neatly. There was more noise outside, with some bursts of gunfire and at least one explosion. “It's about time,” the bookseller muttered as he handed over my books. “Will there be anything else today, miss?”

“This should cover my reading needs for some time, though that might not be a problem if I'm trapped here.” I attempted a smile. “I suppose if you have to be trapped someplace when a revolution breaks out, a bookstore isn't a bad place to be.” He didn't return my smile.

The Mechanic returned a moment later, shutting and locking the door behind him. “There's fighting over by the square,” he reported.

“Then I should go before the fighting spreads,” I said, unsure if my racing heart was due to panic or excitement.

He shook his head. “No, miss, I won't have you going out into that.”

I put my hand on my hip. “Then what do you propose I do? I can't stay here forever.”

He grinned at me. “Don't you worry about that, miss. There's a good reason they call us the Rebel Mechanics. We've got far more than steam engines up our sleeves.”

 

IN WHICH I AM REUNITED WITH AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE

The bookseller glared at the Mechanic. “You can't show her that! It's our biggest secret!”

“Well, unless you plan to adopt her, she has to get out of here somehow, and she can't go by the streets.”

“You'll take precautions?” the bookseller asked.

“Do I look like an idiot? Besides, she's one of us. I've seen her before.”

With a deep, groaning sigh, the bookseller took a key out of the cash register drawer. He gestured for us to follow as he led us to the back of the shop. There, he unlocked a door and held it open for us. It led to a steep staircase going down into a basement. The staircase was unlit, so whatever lay at its foot remained a mystery. “Down you go,” the bookseller said.

“After you, miss,” the Mechanic said to me. He took my parcel so I could hold up my skirts with one hand and keep the other hand on the rail. The closer I got to the bottom, the darker it was. The Mechanic came behind me.

When he reached the bottom, he handed my parcel back to me, then he untied the kerchief from his neck and said, “Apologies, miss, but we do have to be careful.” He wrapped the kerchief over my eyes and tied it at the back of my head. “This isn't too tight, is it?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“No. It's merely disconcerting.”

“Don't worry, I'll have it off you in a minute.”

Even with the blindfold, I could tell when he lit a lantern. I wasn't sure how he carried it because he took my parcel from me and tucked my hand into his elbow so he could guide me. He was a considerate guide, warning me when there was a step up or down and steering me around obstacles.

I tried to track each turn and how far we walked between turns, but I was soon hopelessly confused. I had a sneaking suspicion that he led me in circles a time or two to throw me off. Wherever he was taking me, it must have been a great secret.

At last, we entered what I presumed from the sound of our footsteps to be a large chamber. My guide removed my blindfold, and I saw that what I'd taken for an ornament in his top hat was the lens of a lantern. I thought that was remarkable, but then I noticed my surroundings.

I was in a first-class railway station waiting room—or, rather, what one might look like deep underground. There were rows of high-backed benches made of ornately carved dark wood upholstered with red velvet. Brass chandeliers dangled from a rough stone ceiling, and travertine tiles lay underfoot. The walls were paneled in dark wood to just above head height, with rough stone above that.

Beside the waiting area stood an odd vessel that looked something like a boat, with a pointed wooden prow and a curved glass window at the front. A steering wheel stood between the prow and the window, and there was a long red-velvet-cushioned bench behind the window, with a single back down the middle, so the passengers would sit back-to-back.

A tunnel stretched ahead of the vessel, narrowing as it left the waiting area, with a set of railroad tracks leading down it. Behind the vessel at the far end of the cavern was something that looked like the steam-powered dynamo in the theater's basement. A group of men fed coal into it. About a dozen Mechanics sat in the waiting room.

“Can you take a couple more?” my guide called to the men working on the dynamo.

“Can you drive for us? Our scheduled driver hasn't shown.”

“He may not make it—there's fighting. And you know I'm always up for a drive.”

“Then we can take your passenger. We've room on this run. We'll be leaving as soon as we get her charged up.”

“If you've got a line open, we'll need a cab at the other end.” My guide came back to me. “We'll have you home in no time.”

“What is this?” I asked.

“Our biggest secret—and it is a secret, mind you. Don't go telling anyone.”

“My lips are sealed,” I promised.

He gestured me to a seat in the waiting area and sat beside me. “About a dozen years ago, when they lived around here, the magpies thought an underground magical railroad would be a good way to get around town, out of the elements. But no sooner did they dig the tunnel and lay the track than they started moving uptown. And apparently there's no point in being a magpie without your own carriage, so the project fell by the wayside due to lack of interest. We found the tunnels and the rails, and we've built our own machines. We can't use steam engines in the tunnels, so we use dynamos to power the system in places where we can put chimneys without anyone noticing. They use electricity from the dynamos and magnetism to make the cars go, but you'd have to ask someone more clever than me to know how it all works. I just know how to drive it.”

“This is amazing!” I said. “To think all this is going on beneath the surface, and nobody knows.” I thought I now had a very good idea of how the rioters had come and gone so mysteriously.

“We're ready to go, so all aboard!” one of the men on the engine called out, and the passengers boarded the vessel. The padded bench was far more comfortable than any bus I'd ridden, but I felt exposed, as the vessel had neither roof nor sides. My guide pulled his goggles over his eyes and lit the lantern in his hat. My fellow passengers braced themselves, and I followed their lead.

The vessel shot forward on the rails, zooming into darkness lit only by the pilot's hat. I couldn't tell how close the tunnel's walls were or how fast we were going. We slowed as we entered another waiting area as elegant as the first, but we didn't stop. Suddenly, we were slung forward again. The next time we slowed, the cavern was unfinished, with only a dynamo and a few wooden benches. We shot forward, and this time when we slowed, we came to a stop.

This waiting area was barely carved out of the rock, with few furnishings. Electric globes hung from the ceiling. The tunnel extended a little farther beyond the station in a bulb-like shape that I realized was a roundhouse for turning around the cars. A few other cars like ours and some large flatbed cars without seats sat nearby on sidings.

“End of the line, all off,” my guide called out. I waited until the other passengers had disembarked before I stepped off, and my guide joined me. “What did you think about that, miss?” he asked me.

“It was incredible! If it didn't have to be a secret, if you could use that for transit, it would greatly diminish the traffic and noise on the streets, wouldn't it?”

“We think so. But we're not supposed to be using it, as the tunnels don't actually belong to us, and they certainly don't want us moving about the city freely.” He glanced down at his feet somewhat bashfully, then said, “Um, miss.”

“Yes, I know, put the blindfold on me.”

“I appreciate your being so understanding about this, miss. It's not that we don't trust you.”

“I know. You can't be too careful these days.”

After blindfolding me, he led me down passageways, taking a few twists and turns, until finally we came up a flight of stairs into what felt like a somewhat enclosed outdoor space, like an alley. We stepped briefly into the noise of the street, and then he removed my blindfold and handed me into a cab. I opened the grate between the passenger compartment and the driver's seat and gave the Lyndons' address.

While we traveled, I used the small mirror in my bag to straighten my hair after the blindfold and the wild underground ride. I was still smiling from the adventure, which had reminded me why I'd been drawn to the Mechanics in the first place. I might disagree with some of their methods, but their accomplishments impressed me.

Within minutes the cab stopped, and the driver helped me down. Mr. Chastain came out and paid the driver, and an anxious Lord Henry came rushing down the stairs as I entered the foyer.

“Everything went well?” he asked breathlessly.

“Perfectly.”

“I heard the
Ares
arrived.”

“That's the warship? Yes, it was there, with a great many soldiers.”

“But you made it home safely?”

I gave him a patient smile. “Obviously.”

He noticed my parcel, and his eyes went wide. “Were you able to…” His voice trailed off in worry as Mrs. Talbot approached.

“These are some books I purchased,” I said, loudly enough for Mrs. Talbot to hear. “I found a bookshop with all the latest paperback novels. They're my weakness, I must confess. They're probably not appropriate reading material for a governess, but I believe that if I can read the classics in their original languages, then I should be allowed the occasional adventure story in my spare time.”

“I quite agree. If you don't mind, I may want to borrow one. I could use some light reading.” He turned to the housekeeper. “Yes, Mrs. Talbot? Is there something you need?”

“I have just received word that our dinner menu may have to be altered tonight, as there was a problem getting supplies from the greenmarket. There seems to be some unrest downtown today.”

“We'll manage,” Lord Henry said. “It's sure to blow over soon enough.”

*   *   *

I was surprised that he turned out to be right. The authorized newspaper reported that a minor skirmish near the university had been quickly put down. I couldn't imagine that the rebels would give up that easily. I might have accused the Mechanics of playacting, but they were serious about their cause, so I suspected any apparent surrender was part of a greater plot. Unfortunately, the new restrictions still made it impossible for Nat to sell papers in my part of the city, so I didn't know what the rebels were saying. After being so active, it felt odd to have nothing to do as the rebellion actually started, but I heard no useful information to pass on to them. I hoped perhaps I'd learn something at the ball, where I'd be surrounded by soldiers.

That is, if there was a ball. Would they really send the officers to a ball when a rebellion was brewing and there had been fighting in the streets? Or was that why the rebels had fought and then backed down, to make the British overconfident? If that was the plan, it had worked, because there was no talk of cancellation when the day of the ball arrived.

Flora had her maid, Miss Jenkins, help me dress. She arranged my hair in a style that was less severe than my usual tight knot. Curling tendrils framed my face, and others were pinned into a complicated style at the back of my head. I had a feeling I'd be finding hairpins for days after the ball.

Flora came to my room to check on me before we went downstairs. “You'll do,” she said curtly, and then she tilted her head and frowned at me, making me wonder if there was something wrong with my appearance.

In spite of her frown, I felt like a princess as I swept down the stairs, my skirts rustling around me. Henry waited for us in the foyer, looking rather handsome in a white tie and a tailcoat. He'd attempted to tame his hair, but a few cowlicks had already rebelled. He was adjusting his cuff links, and when he glanced up to see us, his jaw dropped. Flora noticed his expression, turned to study me, then frowned. “Miss Newton, you have no jewelry,” she said.

“Miss Newton doesn't need jewelry.” Lord Henry's voice was strangely hoarse as he said it, and his eyes never left me, even when he spoke to Flora. I wondered if I'd done something wrong or chosen the wrong style of gown, but he didn't seem displeased, merely disconcerted.

Mr. Chastain opened the front door, and Henry offered his arm to Flora to escort her to the carriage. I followed, conscious of my true position in the household for perhaps the first time since I'd been employed. The driver helped Flora up into the carriage. She situated herself in the forward-facing seat. Henry took my hand to help me up, and I took the rear-facing seat. When Henry boarded, he turned to sit beside Flora, but she raised a hand to stop him. “No, you'll squash my skirts. Sit with Miss Newton.”

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “As you wish, my lady.” I moved aside and gathered my skirts to give him room. None of us tried to converse during the drive. I grew increasingly nervous about what I would face that night since I had no real idea of what a chaperone should do at a ball. The tight lacing of my corset didn't help when my breath was already short.

There was a long line of carriages at the governor's manor, and we spent as much time waiting to reach the doorway and disembark as it had taken us to make the drive up to the tip of the island. I passed the time by looking out the window. From here, I had a commanding view of the city. It was almost like seeing it from the airship. Everything looked calm from this vantage point, but I had a feeling
something
would happen that night, given what I was sure was a diversionary show at the Mechanics' theater and the officers being at the ball.