Gwen Hayes Read online

  Luckily, the tray walked in, behaving much better than the errant aeroship. I'd never seen one so grand. We only had one very old tea automaton at the academy, and it wasn't for everyday use, but rather for practice. This trolley was free of encumbering rust and likely oiled every day. The two mechanical robot legs worked together between two in-line bicycle wheels, propelling the wheels to roll each time one automated foot touched the ground. It stopped in front of me, and I began the tea service as I'd been taught.

  The tea table itself was built over the front wheel; over the back wheel was the food table. Below the heated plate for the tea and cooled plates for the refreshments, a series of tubes ran liquideous aether through small boilers and iced bricks. Plates of cakes, sandwiches, and a tea service set into molds sat atop the tray itself so as not to jostle free.

  Phillip eyed the cakes with delirious fascination.

  His nanny came in to collect him, apologizing for losing track of her charge and leaning heavily on a cane. She was old, far too old for such a daunting task as keeping an active boy like Phillip in line. I wondered why she hadn't retired decades ago, and why nobody had thought to replace her.

  "I should like to take tea with Phillip every day, in order to teach him the manners in a parlor as part of his curriculum. Will that be a problem?" I asked.

  She looked so relieved at the thought I thought she might lie down right there. "I'll make sure he's ready for you every day, Miss Merriweather."

  She turned and trudged out, far less graceful than the automaton had breezed in. How odd that she continued to work so far into her elderly years.

  "Phillip," I said, as I poured the tea. "Please tell me how many cakes there are on the plate."

  He counted slowly, but correctly.

  "Excellent." I began putting the cakes on plates. "If we each have one, how many will be left?"

  "One?" He sighed. "I don't know if I can do many more numbers if don't get at least two. I'm tired, you see."

  Precocious child. "If you tell me the correct answer, you may have two."

  Phillip lit up and began the process of take away. The entire conversation was watched avidly by Gideon. Though I tried to put all my focus on Phillip, the awareness of his older brother's gaze never left me.

  His eyes bore into me, trying to ferret out secrets. Odd that he should think I had any. "Have you any memories of Earth, Miss Merriweather?" he asked finally, after the awkward scrutiny had continued for far too long.

  I raised the cup to my lips for an extra moment of thinking time before I answered. "None, sir," I lied easily. "I was near Master Phillip's age when I was rescued by the good people of New Geneva."

  Gideon pulled a flask from the pocket of his discarded jacket. As he poured a nip into his teacup, he chuckled wryly. "Yes, the good people rescued you. How kind to save you in order that they might put you into service for them."

  My proud chin often had a will of its own, and it stubbornly rose above our shared station. "I enjoy teaching children and am grateful for the opportunities my education has provided."

  Gideon left off his tea altogether and nipped directly from his flask. "I meant no disrespect."

  Somehow, his apology didn't sway my opinion of his rancor. I knew it wasn't my place to care, but something about his attitude goaded me into defensiveness. "Do you find that people in service are of less value somehow than those who…I'm sorry, what is it that you do, sir?" Since he'd obviously just returned home in mid-day from whatever nocturnal excursion he'd participated in the night before, I guessed he had no occupation other than being the son of a rich man.

  "Touché, Miss Merriweather." He perused me with a glance from head to toe, and then settled back to my lips. "I think a better question might be, what is it I don't do?"

  His attention to my lips caused them to dry like a grape in the sun. I wanted nothing more than to wet them with my tongue, but knew that would be a mistake. A grave one.

  John cleared his throat. "Miss Merriweather, I'm certain that you're in need of a short rest from your long day. Oliver can show you to your room, if you like. I'll make certain that Phillip is returned to the nursery."

  "Yes," Gideon drawled. "She's likely tired from being purchased. By all means, let's get her a nap."

  The flush of my face went hot and then cold as I gasped. John growled Gideon's name lowly.

  "What?" Gideon asked. "Are we not to talk about it, then? "

  I interrupted Gideon. "Phillip, would you please find out if my accommodations are ready? Oliver, I believe, would know for certain."

  As soon as he was out of hearing range, I pinned Gideon with my most indignant expression. "In a very short time, sir, I have come to understand your character and your apparent dissatisfaction with the society that enables you to live in this grand home. I urge you, however, to please have a care with young Phillip's impressionable age when you seek to disparage the very life I lead."

  "My brother does not disparage you, Miss Merriweather, he saves that for his family. Nothing we do is quite up to his ideals." John's voice may have been full of acrimony, but it was underlined with a curious sadness that led me to believe he wished very much for a different relationship with his brother.

  "Yes, my ideals. Those pesky ethics I seem to cart around like a heavy pack." Gideon pulled another healthy swig from his flask. "I'm so burdened by principles."

  The weight of the air pressed on the three of us. "I'm not ashamed," I said finally.

  "My father bought you!" Gideon ran a hand through his messy locks. "As if you were a vase or a turnip at the market."

  My jaw felt as if I had an iron pipe holding it in place. "Your father repaid the investment society put into my education and upbringing. I am not a turnip." I said the words, but I felt as if I were once again standing in that line of girls, waiting to learn what we'd fetch for a price.

  I met Gideon's eyes and suddenly felt even more vulnerable, as if I were standing in front of him naked. He stripped me of my pride in one afternoon, shunting aside all that I'd packed carefully into my head the years at the academy. He gave voice to the feelings I could ill afford. Gideon was far more dangerous than an asp. At least a snake didn't shred your esteem before it bit.

  "Tell me why the good people of New Geneva cannot simply save the poor children of Earth without exacting a penance of servitude? Surely we have enough resources to accommodate those less fortunate than ourselves."

  John had gone back to tinkering with the aeroship, leaving me to argue politics with Gideon. Were there any two less capable people to discuss current events than us? A governess with no rights, and a nihilist with all of them.

  Though it would have been best for me to excuse myself from the conversation, I found myself replying, "Perhaps you should take a seat in legislation if you feel so strongly about the ills of society."

  "Ho," he laughed. "That would indeed be something. I assure you, Miss Merriweather, if you ever pass me in the hall and I tell you I'm bound for Parliament, take cover immediately and make peace with your God, for the end is nigh."

  "I'll keep that in mind, sir." I rose from my seat; the gentlemen also stood. "Thank you for the lovely tea. I'll take my leave now."

  John bowed, but Gideon only arched his acrimonious eyebrow at me. I would need to steer clear of him as much as possible if I wanted to find any satisfaction in my new post. I doubted it would be difficult, as I didn't foresee him being even vaguely interested in early morning constitutionals or lessons with young Phillip. Still, if I were expected to dine with the adults in the evening, he was sure to sour my appetite.

  Dear Shelby,

  As promised, a missive to let you know I'm doing well. Very well, indeed. I hope you are remaining in fine health and spirits, also. My charge, the young Phillip Winston, is bright and receptive to learning. I feel very privileged to have found such a position. I'm writing to you from my very own PEAD, if you can imagine. It was in my quarters the second morning of my employment. I hope
I never forget my password-Penelope is too far to crack it for me.

  I think of you often, but most especially when I take my daily walk for I pass the stable and remember how much you adored horses. The Winstons have only one and it belongs to the middle son of Colonel Winston. He seems to have an affinity with animals that he doesn't share with humans.

  Strike that. It was unkind of me to say such a thing.

  Please write to me if you can. I continue to miss you and hope you are well.

  Yours in Friendship,

  Violet

  Two weeks later, I was breakfasting with a silent Colonel, who also had a way of souring my appetite. I'm not sure why he chose to have me take my meals with the family. I'd have been content to dine with the servants, but my position seemed to uncomfortably hover somewhere between the two worlds.

  The Colonel and Gideon had similar dispositions of disdain and rancor, only each seemed to hold the exact opposite opinion. Neither had much use for me, which was likely for the best. I didn't cower in the Colonel's presence, but I didn't seek out his attention either. Breakfast was generally a somber affair until John graced the table. He always knew how to cajole and amuse us both.

  The Colonel's fist slammed the table as he read from his PEAD. "Damned rebels!"

  "Colonel?" I inquired.

  "Scallywags. If they don't like the government, maybe they should go to Earth and see how well they like it there."

  I blinked. He didn't deign to explain himself, but I gathered he was complaining about the daily news and another caper of the Juniper Society, the scallywags au courant. I had to agree with the Colonel-the restless spirit of the disenfranchised youth seemed excessive and ridiculous given the freedoms and choices made available by society. A rebellion wasn't necessary and wouldn't affect change unless they stopped their gin-induced scheming in the dead of night and opted for more traditional venues. It pained me to see so much promise wasted.

  And it pained me to think of Earth.

  John joined the table finally to my utter relief. As usual, he held a mechanism to something or other in his hand and a tool in the other. He set them down and filled his plate as he wished us good morning and inquired of his father's health.

  It was shaping up to be a rather ordinary day until Gideon entered the room. I'd never seen him at breakfast before. His father and brother also looked surprised. Gideon stopped behind my chair, and the space behind my head thrummed uncomfortably. He reached over my shoulder and pilfered my cup.

  I didn't turn. I didn't dare. The scent of his shaving cream seemed like a caress, and his presence was far too close, which he knew.

  Gideon set the cup in front of me after drinking a third of its contents. "I knew you weren't hopeless. Not one of those weak tea drinkers. I like a girl who can drink the kind of coffee that puts hair on your chest."

  I pursed my lips and didn't respond-only stared at the coffee still sloshing in my cup.

  "Stop teasing the governess, Gideon," his father admonished, not bothering to look up from his PEAD.

  Gideon liked to take little intimacies with me whenever he could, the kind that I could scarcely make a fuss about without drawing more attention to his bad behavior and embarrassing only myself. He lived to fluster me-picking invisible lint from my dress, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear, whispering inappropriate remarks in my ear. I chose to ignore him, but my heart pumped extra hard in his presence just the same.

  "I hear there is another missing maid from the Havendish Estate," Gideon said.

  The Colonel grunted.

  "I see. Is another missing woman of no consequence?" Gideon asked. "Is it because she is merely a maid or that she is female that draws so little interest from you, Father."

  The two of them began their circle of arguments that never went anywhere but to further prove their mutual disappointment.

  Another missing maid. There seemed to be an unfortunate pattern of missing women lately.

  I stared at the eggs on my plate, no longer interested in eating the congealing lump. An unbidden memory of what gnawing hunger felt like gripped me, and I quickly resumed eating, pushing away the cobwebs of my childhood. Violet Merriweather was nothing if not pragmatic, after all. Skipping breakfast would hardly help find the missing, and neither would remembering what it felt like to starve.

  I had no intention of reliving those days. Life, for me, didn't begin until I'd been transported to New Geneva. I'd never been hungry at the academy. But, then, I'd never been full, either.

  My station at Thornfield was downright luxurious. Good, healthy, and abundant food, a wardrobe of sturdy, well-fitting clothes, and a purpose and young charge I adored. The Colonel ignored me for the most part, but had given me freedom of the manor and a position in life I could be proud of.

  I was blessed, really.

  Amid the chatter between the men on the news of the day, I ate the eggs, but they didn't begin to sate the memory of my hunger.

  THE SUN glinted off the thin crust of snow, covering the path ahead of me like a trail of a thousand diamonds. I loved winter. I inhaled the crisp, clean air-its freshness something I would never take for granted. There had been no such thing on Earth. I pushed aside the momentary lapse into my old life. It wasn't worth considering. This is what I had now, and it was glorious.

  "Violet!"

  I turned towards the voice and smiled as John met me on the path. He cut a dashing figure, even bundled in his heavy woolen coat. , the fog of his breath seeming to crystallize before it disappeared. As always his smile was contagious. It seemed to me he should always be smiling.

  "You forgot your scarf," he explained as he pulled it from his jacket and wrapped it around my neck.

  And though the intimacy should have felt awkward, it did not. "Thank you."

  "Do you mind company this morning? I know you like your early morning walks, but I've a matter I'd like to discuss with you."

  He offered his arm, and I settled my hand into the crook of his offered arm. "I would love the company, though I must warn you, the temperature seems to be dropping. I think we're in for another snow."

  He nodded and we continued on the path, our boots crunching companionably along. "Will you be staying with us for the holiday, or do you have family to visit?"

  Family. I shook my head, blinking away thoughts of a baby boy I barely remembered; only that I was somehow responsible for him and I had failed. "I have no family."

  John reached up and squeezed my hand gently. "I apologize. I forget that the academy is an orphanage. It was quite rude of me to bring it up."

  "It's of no consequence, John. I'm proud of my upbringing." I smiled at him reassuringly.

  "As well you should be, Violet, for you're a shining example for the rest of us. And I'm selfishly glad we'll have you for our own this season."

  His words meant to make me feel included, but did the opposite. I didn't belong with the Winstons. I was in their employ. Perhaps I could arrange a visit to the academy, but the thought made me feel lonelier still.

  "You had something you wished to discuss?" I asked, hoping to lead him away from the current topic.

  "Yes! Yes, I do. Tell me, Violet, has Phillip exhibited a strong tendency towards math and science, I wonder?"

  John's interest in his brother's education warmed my heart. "Young Phillip is more than proficient in both. I daresay he'll pass my own efforts inside a year."

  John nodded thoughtfully. "I was the same at his age. It was hard for the governess to keep me interested, though. I wondered if you would mind if I helped."

  "Helped?" I stopped in front of a bench.

  John brushed the snow from the seat for me and we rested while he explained himself. "I have some ideas. If I were to engage him in a bit of tinkering with me, perhaps building toys from drawings, he would be able to go beyond the book learning. I found that taking apart and putting together makes the science more fascinating."

  Considering that John was almost always distracte
d by one of his tinkering projects, I knew this to be true of him already. "It's a fine idea, John. And Phillip would enjoy the time spent with you as well. I only ask that you don't allow him in your laboratory unsupervised. I've heard stories about your experiments from the staff and I wouldn't want Phillip to access incendiaries just yet."

  John blushed beneath the pink of his already cold cheeks. "There may have been a few small explosions in my youth, but I'm much more careful now. And it's been months since I've set anything on fire." He tugged on the end of my scarf playfully. "I like that you're so protective of my brother."

  "Of course I am."

  "Not every governess is as caring as you. Believe me, Gideon and I went through several."

  "I can only imagine. Was Gideon as difficult a child as he is a man?" I stopped myself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It's not my place to criticize your brother." I was more than sorry; I was mortified. I'd had years of training and yet my boot found its way into my mouth just the same.

  "Don't apologize. Gideon is…difficult."

  "I shouldn't have said anything."

  "My brother has had a harder life than you know." John paused to scan the horizon for the right words. "I wish things could have been different for him."

  I scoffed and then regretted it immediately. "I'm sorry, John, really I am. It's not my place. It's just that your brother has been given the same opportunities as you, yet squanders his life. I can't feel sorry for him. You must know he has it better than so many."

  "You judge him harshly, but you can't understand…he would kill me if I told you-"

  "You mustn't feel you need to, John. I don't deserve your confidence."

  John looked at me carefully. It was obvious that he loved both his brothers very much. John was a good man. A solid one. He was a little distracted at times, but he had such a good heart.

  "But you do, Violet." There was a beat of time that slowed between us, holding the moment in detail so that I could relive it later. I looked away first, so John continued speaking. "You see, my mother and my father…they had a bit of turmoil after I was born. I don't remember it, I was too young, but you hear things. It was a difficult relationship; I don't think they were in love." He scanned the horizon again. "They were apart for a time, with separate residences in the city. They reconciled shortly after my mother showed signs of childbearing. I didn't understand, for many years, why my father treated Gideon so differently. I used to try to fix it-include my brother when Father spent time with me-but there was, still is, a huge wall. He always referred to Gideon as 'your son' when he spoke to my mother. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"