Rebel Mechanics (7 page)

“That's Matthews, Uncle's valet,” Olive informed me. “Rollo says his job is to make sure Uncle remembers to eat, sleep, and get dressed and to keep him from walking into walls.” I got the feeling that one should never say anything within earshot of Olive that one didn't want repeated.

As far as I could tell, Flora still wasn't out of bed, but Lord Henry hadn't mentioned any routine for her other than my engaging her in conversation, which we could do later, and her afternoon music and drawing lessons, so I decided not to worry about her. Up in the schoolroom, I set Olive to working on her handwriting by copying a page from the science text. While she worked, I unfolded the newspaper I'd bought from Nat. Now I understood why every newspaper I'd seen before had the royal seal stamped on it. This one definitely took a different editorial approach than the newspapers I'd read. The main story on the front page was about the steam engine winning a race against a magical carriage. The story went on to describe the implications of bringing mass transportation into a restricted area. The article was vividly written, with a perspective that could only have come from someone on that bus. The author's name was Elizabeth Smith—the Lizzie who'd sat next to me, I guessed.

The other articles covered injustices in the city, the impact of taxes, and suppression of technological progress. I'd thought I was well-informed, but I had been entirely unaware of many of these issues. The only story this newspaper seemed to have in common with the paper Lord Henry and Rollo had discussed at breakfast was the Masked Bandits' robbery, only this paper seemed far more in favor of it. Editorial cartoons depicted magisters wearing wizards' robes and pointy hats covered in stars, and these magisters lived in remote castles, ruling from on high. I had to put down the newspaper when Olive brought her work to me. “Very nice, Olive,” I told her. “Now let's do some math.”

The morning passed quickly. Olive was an apt pupil who was eager to please. I had already seen how readily she memorized anything she heard, and that applied to her schoolwork as well. I seldom had to tell her anything twice. She also had an inquisitive mind and asked thoughtful questions. I understood why Lord Henry was reluctant to send her to the typical school for girls of her class. Flora finally emerged from her room for lunch and very pointedly refused to make conversation with me. After several attempts, I gave up and focused on Olive.

I got a respite after lunch when the music and art teachers arrived. It was a fine September day, so I put on my hat and gloves and crossed the street to the park. I'd read about New York's Central Park but hadn't realized it was so vast. I had only to walk a short while before I was able to forget I was in the middle of a city, in spite of the occasional magical carriage passing by. It was easy to imagine that I was out on a country lane. I might be a grand lady with a great estate or the daughter of a prosperous farmer, someone who didn't have to worry about securing or maintaining employment, who knew her place in the world instead of being a misfit in any place.

I was so caught up in my reverie that I was taken entirely by surprise when someone grabbed me bodily and lifted me off my feet. I couldn't find the air to scream, and I couldn't seem to move my arms and legs to fight back. Then a vehicle raced past, right through the spot on the lane where I'd been standing. It was a magical open-topped roadster, so it made little noise other than a soft hum and the crunch of wheels on gravel. The driver, who was dressed like a fashionable dandy, didn't slow at all and appeared entirely unaware that he'd nearly run down a pedestrian. He wore his hat pulled low, and a pair of driving goggles obscured his face, but I got a glimpse of reddish hair before the roadster disappeared from view.

“Why, it's Verity!” a female voice near me said. I blinked in confusion, unsure why anyone in the park should know who I was. Then I recognized Lizzie rushing to my side. “Verity, are you all right?” she asked, her brow creased with concern.

The man holding me asked, “Are you able to stand on your own, miss?”

I turned to look at him, and when my eyes met his, I forgot everything else: my recent near miss, Lizzie, the park. All I saw was his green eyes boring into my soul. From the way he looked at me, I guessed that he'd been struck the same way. We were frozen together in that moment.

While I was incapable of speech and had even forgotten that I'd been asked a question, Lizzie answered for me. “Let's get her over to that bench, Alec.
My
legs are shaking, and I wasn't the one almost run down.” They walked me between them to a nearby bench, where they settled me. I only realized I must have had tears springing to my eyes when the man handed me his handkerchief. Lizzie then said, “Alec, go get her some lemonade. She's had quite a shock.”

I was unable to find my voice in time to protest before Alec darted off across the park to a refreshment stand. I dabbed at my eyes with a shaking hand, then clutched the handkerchief and tried to will myself into overcoming the combined shock of the near accident and the rapturous moment I'd just experienced. Lizzie sat beside me on the bench and squeezed my hand. “It's fortunate that we came along when we did and that Alec has such excellent reflexes.” Her voice sharpened. “Those magpies think the city belongs to them. They don't look out for anyone else. I don't know how many times I've nearly been run down by magpie dandies out for a spin in their fancy little roadsters.”

My wits finally returned, and I remembered that I was in the company of a rebel. But she didn't look like a radical. She could have been any girl out for a stroll in the park. She wasn't even wearing the red ribbon and gear of the Rebel Mechanics. “I saw your article about the race,” I said, finding my voice. “At least, I presumed you wrote it.”

“Yes, ‘Smith' is my nom de plume—or nom de guerre, as the case may be. It wouldn't be safe to use my real name when reporting on such topics and for such a newspaper.”

“Being a journalist must be very exciting.” When I had to find a way to support myself, I hadn't even considered journalism, although I could write quite well. I supposed there were far too many books about well-bred, educated young women being governesses and too few about young women being reporters.

Alec returned with two glasses of lemonade, one of which he handed to me with a bow, and the other to Lizzie. “Verity, I'd like you to meet Alec Emfinger,” she said. “He's our genius who created the steam engine. Alec, this is Verity. She was one of your passengers yesterday. Oh dear, I don't know your surname, Verity. That's what happens when I let my brother make introductions.”

So Alec was my savior. I hadn't seen him without his goggles yesterday. I had to fight to find my voice. “I'm Verity Newton,” I said, answering Lizzie without taking my eyes off Alec. I added to him, “Thank you for saving my life.”

He doffed his hat, revealing neatly trimmed fair hair, and gave me a slight bow. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Newton. I'm glad I came along at the right time.” He looked like he was about nineteen, and he reminded me of the university students I'd known in New Haven. He certainly didn't look like the radicals pictured in newspaper cartoons. None of them looked at all heroic or noble the way he did.

“Verity, you must tell me, did you get the position?” Lizzie asked, placing her hand lightly on my arm.

I dragged my gaze away from Alec to answer her. “Yes, I did. And I must thank you both for the ride. I might not have been on time for the interview otherwise.”

“Which household employed you?”

I tensed, unsure I should tell the rebels where I worked, but not answering would be rude. “I'm working for the Lyndon family,” I said.

“The marquis?” Alec asked.

“No, the marquis died in an airship accident a little more than a year ago,” Lizzie said. “Don't you remember? You said that ship had a design flaw, something about the balloon material, and you expected a disaster. You gloated for days after it happened.”

“The current marquis is one of my charges,” I said. “My employer is the children's uncle. He's their guardian.”

Alec sat on my other side, and his proximity sent a warm flush through my body. “You landed well, then,” he said. “That's one of the highest families in the colonies.”

“And not just because of the title,” Lizzie added. “Do you know who the children's grandfather is?”

“It hasn't been mentioned,” I said.

“Their mother was the daughter of Samuel DeLancey, the royal governor.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“You didn't know this before you applied for the position?”

“No. I only wanted to find a position in a good home.”

Lizzie nodded. “I understand. Women like us can't afford to be choosy when we must make our own way in the world. You're fortunate to have found such an excellent position. I may even be a little envious.”

“But you're a newspaper reporter!”

“You're a governess for one of the highest families in the American colonies. I suppose they also want you to act as chaperone?”

“Yes.”

“So you'll be going to balls and parties and meeting the most important people in the colonies, maybe even people visiting from England.”

My job suddenly seemed a lot more interesting. “I hadn't thought of it that way.”

Alec chuckled, and I turned to see him grinning at me. He had a nice smile that transformed his face from studious to boyish. “Aye, you've landed well. And to think you arrived in this new life on my machine. I'm honored to have been allowed to help.” His voice was soft and husky, and he gazed at me with the same intensity as before. For a moment, I felt like the two of us were alone in the park, but then I remembered Lizzie. They'd been walking in the park together—was he her beau? She didn't appear to take offense at the way he focused so intently on me.

I smiled back at him, sure my cheeks must be flaming. “It's better than any magical pumpkin coach.”

He winked. “Don't remind the magpies of that story. Next thing you know, they'll be turning pumpkins to coaches left and right, and I can't compete with that.”

“Oh, but it was wonderful, better than magic,” I insisted. Then I remembered how the ride had ended and felt bad for not having asked sooner. “Did the police catch you?”

“No, they didn't,” he said, beaming. “You don't have to worry about us. We've got a number of hiding places. By the time they caught up with us beyond the magpie zone, Bessie was safe and an ordinary team of horses was pulling the bus. Everyone on Fifth Avenue must have imagined a speeding bus pulled by a steam engine.”

“It really is a wonderful machine,” I said.

“That's merely a small one,” he said. He gestured animatedly as he spoke, his voice rising with fervor. “A larger one could pull a train. Or power a boat. A smaller one might drive a carriage. Steam power could run factories. I know a man who uses a steam engine to generate electrical power for light and to run machinery, even to send messages over long distances. With machines, we can do anything magic can do.” He was so passionate about the subject and so close to me that I found my breath quickening in response.

Lizzie leaned across me and patted him on the knee. “Now, Alec, I'm sure Verity doesn't have all day.” To me, she added, “He can go on for hours about his machines. You should hear him when he gets together with his university friends.”

“My machines may win our freedom,” he insisted. “If we don't need magic, then we don't need magisters, and then we don't need the aristocracy or Britain. They can cut off our power, like they did a century ago in the last rebellion, and it won't affect us at all. The factories can still run and goods can be delivered without magisters.”

“See what I mean?” Lizzie said with a raised eyebrow.

I smiled at her, but it felt strained. These could be very dangerous people to know. Lord Henry might have had
Ideas
, but I doubted he'd want someone associated with the rebels teaching his wards, and it was entirely possible that he was within earshot, crawling through the bushes on a search for insect specimens.

Suddenly uncomfortable with my companions and the conversation, I checked my watch without really looking at it and said, “I should get back to the house. It was a pleasure meeting you properly, Mr. Emfinger.”

Lizzie shot him a glare, to which he responded with a slight shrug. He turned to me and touched the brim of his hat. “Likewise. I'm sure I'll see you around town, Verity.”

“Thank you again for saving my life. And for the lemonade.”

“Don't mention it at all,” Alec said, standing and offering me a hand up. He gave my hand a lingering squeeze, adding with a smile, “On second thought, feel free to mention my heroics as often as you like.”

Lizzie shook her head and sighed with long-suffering patience as she stood and took my glass from me. “Don't encourage him, or he'll be quite impossible.”

“Have you ever considered that she might like impossible?” he asked her, smiling and winking at me. He was almost as dashing as the masked bandit had been—and possibly even more dangerous.

Before I could do anything impulsive and improper, I stammered another goodbye and hurried away. Despite wanting to, I forced myself not to look over my shoulder at Alec. If I had been the sort of girl who kept a diary that was more than a list of books I'd read and my thoughts on them, I'd have run home to record this encounter. I was crossing the street to the Lyndon home when I realized I still clutched Alec's handkerchief. I tucked it carefully into my pocket before climbing the front steps.

I entered the house to the sound of a piano. Flora must have been having her lesson. Her lush, passionate music perfectly suited my mood. I couldn't hold back a wistful sigh as I remembered the feeling of Alec's arms around me, the lightning bolt that had struck when I looked into his eyes. I jumped guiltily when I sensed someone behind me and turned just in time to step out of the way before Lord Henry stumbled into me. He was intent on the net he held with a large, vividly colored butterfly caught in it and didn't seem to see me. He also didn't seem to see the statue in his path.