Steampunk Omnibus: A Galvanic Century Collection (40 page)

Colour briefly flared in Aldora's cheeks. "This is exactly why I moved to London. I don't need you meddling in my affairs."

"I haven't been meddling. You were very clear that you did not desire my assistance, and I have respected your wishes."

"Investigating my fiancée is meddling."

"It's nothing more than a father's concern for his daughter."

"Coming to Istanbul and arranging--"

"Paternal concern. And a good thing, too. Or would you have preferred I let you remain kidnapped?"

"I can do quite well without your concern, father. Stay out of my life."

Aldora turned to go. Her father's hand moved with a sudden speed that belied his sixty years and clamped around her wrist with an unexpected strength.

"You're hurting me," she said, simply and without inflection.

"I have given you considerable latitude to live your own life, perhaps far more than is right or proper," Lucian said, his blue eyes cold as they shifted to her own. "And for this I ask little in return. Your life is your own to live. But do not forget, Aldora, that you are a Fiske, and while I draw breath my responsibility is to safeguard the Fiske name."

"Let go of my wrist."

"You are a Fiske. Even should you take on your husband's surname, you remain a Fiske, and thus, my business, my concern, and my responsibility. Are we clear on this matter?"

Aldora remained silent.

"Are we clear, girl?"

"Yes, Father."

He released her wrist. Though it stung, she didn't rub it. Not in front of him.

"How is your mother this morning?" He rolled the cigar between his fingers.

"Stubborn. She insists upon being there to greet the guests, though I've assured her that Alton will be handling it."

"You've her fire when you need it," her father said. "Though of late you seem to prefer my ice."

Aldora was suddenly aware of how her posture mirrored that of her father's. She shifted her weight.

"Hardly unsurprising, given what you've been through."

"I hate it when you discuss me as if I'm not right in front of you."

"You hate a great many things." Her father turned, hands in his trouser pockets, and began to stroll back towards the house. "Hold on to that. It will serve you well, my daughter."

She did not turn to watch him go, fingers tightening on the balcony's rail.

***

"Aldora,
darling!
" The shrill voice sent a jag down Aldora's spine.

A woman several years her junior swept along the hall, ribbons in her hair trailing behind, a toothsome smile on her face, unsubtle glee in her eyes.

"Regina, dear." Aldora managed a small upturning of the lips, though the smile did not extend far beyond. "How pleasant that you could make it."

"I made sure to make the trip," Regina Worth said, taking Aldora's hands in her own. Her dress was not as elaborate nor as fine as the bride's, but what it lacked in elegance it made up for in ostentatiousness. "I wouldn't miss your wedding for the world."

"You humble me with your enthusiasm," Aldora said.

"It's quite the relief that your nuptials have come to fruition." Regina let go of Aldora's hands. "You would not believe how some were beginning to whisper that Miss Aldora Fiske was destined to end an old maid."

"The tongues of gossips will wag," Aldora said, perfectly aware that said rumours had almost certainly originated in the person of the woman standing before her.

"Alice was just telling me the other week -- you remember Alice, mousy thing, used to follow us around the green?"

"I remember her."

"She was just telling me a few months ago that it seemed as if you were never to find a husband. Can you imagine?"

"I can imagine."

Regina hooked her arm through Aldora's and began leading the way down the hall. "Well, I said to her, I reminded her you that you were engaged to a perfectly fine young man, your Mr. Bartleby. And you'll never guess what she said!"

"I cannot begin to speculate."

"She said that she would not be terribly surprised if your Bartleby were to leave you at the altar. Can you imagine the nerve? Not that I can't understand, with your Bartleby's reputation and all."

Aldora slipped her arm free. "Then she will be relieved to know that Mr. Bartleby does not quite measure up to the cad he is purported to be. He is here, it is our wedding day, and it's all terribly exciting, I can assure you."

"Of course." Regina turned to face her. "Let me look at you. I have been ever so concerned about your welfare, after the unpleasantries you've weathered abroad."

"Your concern is welcome but entirely unfounded," Aldora said.

Regina studied her old classmate. "I should say your complexion has weathered the stress fairly well; you don't look a day over thirty."

Aldora's eyes narrowed slightly.

"And your hair... what sort of dye are you using? I daresay I don't see any grey at all."

"You are too generous with your compliments," Aldora said. "But I am afraid you must excuse me, Regina. There's ever so much to do."

The other woman frowned slightly, then nodded. "As you say, Aldora. Congratulations again."

Aldora turned and walked slowly back up the hall. "Thank you. Enjoy the garden party."

***

The girlish shrieks and giggles reached Aldora's ears long before she arrived in the playroom. It had become a refuge to her adoptive daughters in the often dour household her parents kept in the month since their arrival from London, and she stopped in the doorway to watch them play.

"I'm a vicious pirate!" her adoptive daughter Penelope was saying, waving a rolled up parchment to and fro. "Come join my crew, and we'll haunt the Barbary coast, hunting Spanish merchants and liberating them their treasure!"

"Pirates!" the Chinese girl Xin Yan said.

They were resilient girls, linked by the tragedy of having recently been orphaned. Penny's wounds were fresher, though from the children's play it was hard to imagine that she'd lost her father less than a year ago. The signs were there, if you knew what to look for -- moments of sudden solemn silence intruding upon her normal youthful exuberance, and the occasional nightmare -- but Aldora strongly believed the girl had started down the road to healing. She'd been asking more questions about how Aldora had known her father, what he'd been like, and the gentlewoman was running out of ways to avoid answering in ways that would incriminate herself.

"Am I to be a pirate as well, then.?" Alton's partner James was sitting in a chair across from the girls, a grin on his face.

"You're our prisoner!" Penny turned and levelled her scroll-sword at the engineer. "There'll be no mercy for the likes of you!"

"No mercy!" Xin's English had been improving rapidly during her time with Penny. While she spent a significant amount of time with James, and he considered her his adoptive daughter, Aldora didn't believe that he spoke often enough to help her learn.

It wasn't that James didn't care for her. It was obvious from watching them play together that he did. She just didn't believe that James was terribly adept at dealing with children. Or women. Or people in general. James didn't spend much time with anyone outside her fiancée, truth be told.

"Shall we make him walk the plank?" Penny asked.

"Yes!" Xin said, arms folded, a grim look upon her face. "Into the water! Sharks!"

"It has been decided! You shall be eaten by sharks!" Penny decreed.

Aldora thought back to her own youth, her own childhood, spent with tutors and caretakers. The only girls her own age she'd known were vicious little social climbers like Regina, always seeking to tear one another down to elevate themselves in their own meaningless pecking order. The complexity of the peer groups she'd known in private schools was an ever shifting maze of temporary alliance and betrayal, and she didn't know that she'd ever had anything that might be considered a 'friend'. It wasn't what was done. As lonesome as it had been, Aldora felt that it had adequately prepared her for life as a Woman of Society, as a Fiske. The parlours and ballrooms of the great families of London were not so far removed from the dormitories and greens of Miss Cumberband's School for Girls.

"I've brought a present for the two of you," James said, retrieving his waistcoat from the chair he'd draped it upon.

"A present?" Penny said clapping her hands. "You are too kind, Mr. Wainwright!"

James pulled a small clockwork dog out of his waistcoat pocket. The girls crowded forward for a look.

"The Turkish clockworks were of a completely different style," Penelope said, showing off. "More complicated than this."

Aldora thought her ward might have been growing jealous that Xin Yan was getting the lion's share of the engineer's attention. While on paper Aldora had adopted both girls, this was a convenience for the state. James had rescued Xin Yan and thought of her as his own, and quite naturally favoured her as a result.

"Is that so?" James said absently.

"Yes," Penny said. "Halil brought me to the Street of Gadgeteers in Istanbul's Old City. We saw clockworks that made this one look simple."

"I like." Xin Yan took it out of James' hand. She pulled the tail, and a tiny chirping bark emitted from its hinged jaw.

"Of course you like." Penny sniffed and turned her head. "You don't know any better."

"The Chinese have been building some of the world's most advanced clockworks for centuries." James's cadence had become one of lecture, one that Aldora hated. "Though I suppose Xin Yan would have been too young when her family emigrated to remember anything of her homeland."

Xin shook her head.

"If you'd like, I can take you to see the Oriental History exhibit at the British Museum..."

"I would like--"

"Can I come?" Penny interrupted.

James tilted his head. "I suppose? If it's all right with Aldora?"

"James, might I have a word with you?" Aldora said.

James climbed to his feet and joined the woman at the door somewhat warily.

For once, though, her concerns lay not within James's social deficiencies, but within her adopted daughter. She lowered her voice, keenly aware that the girls' eyes were upon them.

"I do appreciate your attempts to include Penelope. It shows a good deal of restraint and patience."

James relaxed slightly. "The girl's been through quite a bit. I don't mind."

Aldora stepped with him into the hall. "I fear that she has not quite recovered from our Istanbul trip."

"Istanbul?" James asked. "Oh, your kidnapping. No, I was referring to the death of her father. I would assume that the endangerment of a guardian would pale next to the trauma of losing one's father."

Aldora's mouth opened, but she didn't quite know how to respond.

James continued, turning to regard the girls. "Though I suppose that your kidnapping might have compounded the initial trauma and in fact may have subsumed it."

She flushed a little. "James, I'm telling you that you need to be cautious. You've chosen a paternal role for Xin Yan, but Penny might be looking for a father figure in you."

"Was her father much like myself?" James asked.

Aldora's thoughts drifted and her voice became wistful. "Henry? Only in that you are both males of the same age, and that might be enough for the girl. No. No, James, you're nothing like Henry. I've never known a man more full of life than Penelope's father. He was a kind soul, a caring soul, a trustworthy soul. Nothing like you. Nothing like my father. He was a guide and pathfinder, fully engaged in the world, in love with it, not an engineer building his own sterile paradigm in isolation."

James's eyes half-lidded. "A simple 'No' would have sufficed."

She paled, and her hand flew to her lips. "Oh. Oh, no, James, I'm sorry, I--"

"It's quite all right," James said in that flat tone of his. "Your opinion isn't one that I consider terribly important. Save your apologies for Bartleby. I'm sure your marriage will be full of them."

He gave her a contemptuous last look over his shoulder as he returned to the room and his Xin Yan.

***

Aldora stood alone at the music room window, watching her guests arrive. It was an inconvenient tradition that the bride should remain sequestered away until after the wedding. She should be down there, greeting the newcomers, dropping the right names in the right ears, seeing to affairs personally. She'd never taken to delegation well.

Fortunately Alton seemed to be having a right time of it. He had the good sense to allow her mother to sit and rest while he took the lion's share of the responsibilities, shaking hands, making introductions, putting on a good face. He was a good man, and would make an acceptable husband, for someone she didn't love. She could tolerate him. She could trust him to not embarrass her publicly while engaging in his appetites, and that was enough for her. The adopted children relieved them of the burden of having to have offspring of their own, a state of affairs her bridegroom seemed entirely content with.