The Inventor's Secret (13 page)

“Stunning isn’t he?” Lady Winter said, noting Charlotte’s gaze. “And very difficult to obtain. My husband, the
admiral, had it shipped to me from India. The trick is that
the metal grafted onto the feathers must be hollow so the
bird doesn’t tip over.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Charlotte managed,
utterly horrified by the bird. Rebuilding a creature to save
its life, as Birch had in the case of Moses, was one thing.
This bejeweled peacock struck Charlotte as grotesque in
its excess.
Lady Winter gave a snort as she lay against the chaise,
saying, “Of course you haven’t.”
“Mother, you’ve just apologized to Mrs. Blake,” Jack
chided. “Have a care or you’ll have to beg Char—Miss
Marshall’s pardon as well.”
“Mmm-hmmmm.” Lady Winter’s eyes were closed. A
minute later she was snoring.
Jack gazed down at his mother for another moment before shaking his head and turning away. He walked back
to the interior doors, leaving Charlotte to trail after him
awkwardly. She followed him all the way to the parlor
where Mrs. Blake had left the tea service.
Pouring two cups of tea, Jack added milk and sugar to
one cup before handing it to Charlotte with a saucer. He
put one spoonful of sugar into his cup. Charlotte sat in a
high-backed chair. Jack remained standing, his gaze fixed
on Charlotte.
“Well?” he asked.
Charlotte sipped her tea. “Well, what?”
“You don’t have anything to say?” Jack’s voice was
brittle.
“It’s not my place,” Charlotte told him.
Jack laughed, and tea sloshed over the rim of his cup.
“Not your place. By Hephaestus, Charlotte, you already
sound
like you belong here.”
He was baiting Charlotte, but she knew that her words
weren’t what had provoked his anger.
“I just meant that I don’t know your mother,” Charlotte said, frowning. “And I wouldn’t presume to pass
judgment.”
“By all means, judge freely,” Jack snapped. “Judge everything you see in this house, this city.”
“Jack.” Charlotte spoke his name softly. She hadn’t forgotten how angry she was about the previous night, but
she couldn’t ignore his pain now.
When she didn’t speak again, Jack put his teacup aside,
dropped onto a leather sofa and buried his face in his
hands.
After a while, Charlotte heard Jack’s voice, still muffled by his hands. “She wasn’t always like this.”
Charlotte rose and went to sit beside him. She wanted
to ask if Lady Winter was ill, but feared that if it turned
out that Jack’s mother was simply an intolerable snob, her
question would only make Jack feel worse. So Charlotte
did the other thing that came to mind. She gently pulled
Jack’s hands away from his face and held them in her own.
“I didn’t want to come back here.” Jack clung to her
fingers, but he stared at the floor when he spoke. “I never
wanted to come back.”

UCH LATER, AFTER Mrs. Blake had
retrieved Charlotte from the parlor and
had the other housemaids draw Charlotte what proved to be a rather marvelous bath, Meg shooed Mrs. Blake’s
girls away with the pronouncement that only she would

be needed to assist Charlotte in dressing for the evening.
Charlotte had presumed they would be dining with Lady
Winter, but Meg informed her that they would be going
out.

“Is Lady Winter unhappy that we’re here?” Charlotte
asked Meg.

“I doubt Lady Winter remembers that we arrived today,” Meg said as she buttoned Charlotte’s gown.
“She’s ill, isn’t she?” Charlotte met Meg’s gaze in the

Meg nodded. “Admiral Winter is rarely at home, and
over the years, Lady Winter has developed a nervous constitution and is given to bouts of melancholia.”

Nerves and sadness? Charlotte couldn’t put together
how that diagnosis could explain Lady Winter’s strange
behavior—excepting the fit of weeping.

Noting Charlotte’s furrowed brow, Meg added. “She
treats her maladies with liberal doses of laudanum. Jack
told Ashley that his mother has been unable to tolerate even
a day without several glasses of laudanum-laced sherry for
several years now.”

“Oh,” Charlotte said, twisting her fingers as Meg
fetched a jacket to pair with Charlotte’s gown. “Why does
Admiral Winter stay away from home for so long? Doesn’t
he care that it makes his wife so miserable?”

“It seems he married for duty, not love,” Meg answered.
“He prefers to spend his life serving the Empire in the company of his fellow officers and has little interest in overseeing his household.”

Meg helped Charlotte into a spencer of pale green silk.
“And he cared enough to ensure that his sons attended the
best military academies and received officer commissions
befitting their stations when they finished school. That
was as far as Admiral Winter’s penchant for fatherhood
extended.”

Jack must despise his father,
Charlotte thought.
But of
course he does. Why else would he betray the very thing
his father loves to a fault, to the demise of his own family?

Shrugging away those somber thoughts, Charlotte
asked Meg. “Where are we going tonight?”
“To see about Grave,” Meg answered.
A jolt of anticipation coursed through Charlotte. A
clandestine expedition into the city, no matter the danger,
held much more appeal than staying within this house full
of sorrowful phantoms.
After Charlotte was sufficiently dressed and coiffed, she
and Meg descended the mansion’s grand staircase to meet
Ash, Grave, and Jack in the foyer. Jack still wore military
dress, but had donned a fresh uniform. Ash and Grave had
similarly exchanged their rumpled travel clothes for crisp,
starched servants’ garb.
Jack didn’t bother with formal greetings, instead saying, “We’ll take the trolley to the Market Platform and
board the Great Wheel there. It will be a good hour before
we reach the Commons.”
“Isn’t there a faster way to reach the ground?” Ash
complained.
“Not without drawing attention to ourselves,” Jack answered, heading for the door. “You have to remember that
residents of the Floating City are meant to be unfettered
by the harried life of a worker. That’s a key marker of the
difference between living up here instead of in the Hive or
at the Foundry. The elevators at the back of the platforms
were designed strictly for official use or emergencies.”
Ash pointed at Jack’s uniform. “You look official
enough.”
“But the rest of you don’t,” Jack replied. “It’s expected
enough for Charlotte to have an officer escorting her to the
city, but ladies and their servants don’t go up and down the
elevators.”
Gazing up at the wheel, Ash pressed, “This is really
how people come and go from the platform?”
“You’re assuming people come and go frequently.” Jack
spared Ash a thin smile. “Most residents of the Floating
City prefer not to leave the upper echelons of New York
except by dirigible when they’re traveling to their country
houses.”
“What about people from the Commons who want to
come up?” Charlotte asked.
“Another service the Great Wheel provides,” Jack told
her. “By Imperial law, any citizen is free to enter the Floating City. But getting to the platforms is hardly free. Most
workers can’t afford to pay the fare. It’s a fine system the
city officials have concocted to keep the rabble out.”
Ash was still grumbling under his breath when they
boarded the trolley. Sliding into a seat beside the window,
Charlotte expected Meg to join her, but it was Jack who
sat with her on the trolley bench. Without saying anything,
Jack slipped his hand over hers, threading their fingers and
keeping their hands low, out of their companions’ view.
Charlotte threw a questioning glance at Jack, but his eyes
were ahead as the trolley whisked them away from the
House of Winter.
As the cable car collected more passengers, the mood
in the trolley grew festive. They sped along tracks, passing
the Arts and Military platforms, but Charlotte barely noticed her surroundings. She was far too distracted by the
feeling of Jack’s hand holding hers. She finally looked up
when a cheer sounded through the now-crowded trolley.
The car slowed as it approached an enormous wheel.
From frame to axle to spokes, the entirety of the wheel was
lit. Turning perpetually, it glittered in gold and bronze; its
glass-enclosed carriages hanging like baubles around its
circumference.
When the trolley stopped, its passengers emptied out,
streaming toward the line to board the Wheel. Though
the line was long, they progressed steadily forward with
the constant movement of the Wheel. Charlotte watched
women draped in silks and velvet come and go from the
carriages, accompanied by men dressed in tailcoats and
top hats, their faces graced with neatly trimmed sideburns.
Their laughter and gaiety suffused the evening the air and
left Charlotte feeling confused.
“Why do they need carriages when the trolley services
all the platforms?” Charlotte asked Jack.
“While it’s deemed acceptable to ride the trolley, it’s
much more fashionable to travel by private means,” Jack
replied. “The carriages are just another way for the city’s
elite to display their wealth.”
Didn’t they know they were at war?
Charlotte stood in
line beside these Imperial citizens, who would cast glances
her and presume she was one of their own, and the sweet
twilight air developed a bitter flavor. How many years had
she lived in hiding, surviving only by wit and will, and
waiting for the day when she would take up arms against
the military behemoth behind which the Floating City hid?
Charlotte doubted a single one of these giggling girls
around her would know what to do in a fight. She looked
at Ashley and noticed that although her brother’s expression was calm, his fists were clenched. That he shared her
distaste for this spectacle took the edge off Charlotte’s
mood.
Reaching the front of the line, Jack paid their fare.
They were shuttled into one of the carriages with half a
dozen other passengers, and the long descent began. After
a few minutes, Charlotte wanted to echo Ash’s frustration
with this method of travel. The wheel turned at an interminably slow pace. A butler—apparently one was assigned
to each carriage—offered flutes of champagne to the other
finely dressed passengers and Jack and Charlotte (though
not to Ash, Meg, or Grave), and the sound of clinking glass
and toasts soon filled the air. Raising her glass for show
whenever a stranger called out another foolish “huzzah!”
Charlotte sipped at the bubbling wine and waited for the
ride to be over.
Nearly three-quarters of an hour passed before the carriage leveled out and they were ushered out the door so
that ascending passengers could take their places. When
she stepped from the carriage, Charlotte’s senses were assaulted by sound and light. The tumbling of water that
powered the Great Wheel roared in her ears, and behind
that explosion of sound came a cacophony of organ pipes,
chimes, and blaring brass.
Not to be outdone by the audacious noise that welcomed her to the Commons, bright lights flared all around
her. Iron rods, twice as tall as the tallest man among them,
topped with spinning pinwheels shot out streams of sparks
that met sizzling ends in the pools below the waterfalls.
The pinwheels lined the path from the carriage, down a
long staircase that ended in a broad pedestrian thoroughfare.
Nearly all Charlotte’s fellow passengers laughed and
jostled each other as they hurried eastward. Peering after
them, she saw the pennants and jewel tones of the tents
and pavilions that crowded the Tinkers’ Faire. Only two
passengers—both men, Charlotte noted—ducked their
heads and turned westward onto the pathway.
Since she was already holding on to Jack’s arm, Charlotte tugged him closer and, indicating the direction with a
slight lift of her chin, asked, “What’s that way?”
“The Iron Forest,” Jack answered. “It began as a goodwill effort to give a cultural lift to the Commons. The
forest was crafted from scrap metals, and it was meant to
emulate the union between nature and machine, art and
industry—the beloved aims of our divine patrons, Athene
and Hephaestus.”
“And now?” Charlotte looked down the westerly path.
The two men she’d seen traverse that way had disappeared,
their figures engulfed by shadow, though they could hardly
have gotten far from the arrival platform.
“The crown financed the creation of the Iron Forest,
but didn’t offer any means to maintain it—handing over
its upkeep to the colonial governor. Given that the forest
was intended for the benefit of the Commons, the governor
saw no need to pay for a ‘frivolous’ spectacle that wasn’t
enjoyed by his peers in the Floating City. It’s a haven for
cutpurses, assassins, and other sordid types. The city is
like a piece of fruit. Up there, on the platforms, it appears
to be ripe, juicy, and perfect, but down here you’ll discover
its true, rotten core.”
“But the Tinkers’ Faire?” Charlotte cast her glance at
the carnivalesque silks and banners that shone brightly
even after dusk. “Why isn’t it sullied like the Iron Forest? It
doesn’t look like a rotten core to me.”
Even now Jack was steering her to the east, after the
bulk of the other passengers.
“Don’t be fooled. The fair is sullied. It’s just painted
over in thousands of bright colors to hide the dirt. Many
denizens of the Floating City love to spend their coins on
the delights and scandals of the Tinkers’ Faire. It provides
entertainment and is constantly changing, whereas the
Iron Forest was built and left to founder. Plus, the Tinkers
themselves fund the upkeep of their market. They have no
need of backing from the Empire.”
A blush heated Charlotte’s neck, creeping toward her
cheeks. “Delights and scandals?”
Jack raised an eyebrow at her. “I can trust you to avoid
any mischief, can’t I, Charlotte?”
“I don’t know. Since you’re supposed to be my escort,
isn’t that your responsibility?” Charlotte laughed, flashing
him an impish smile.
Her heart fluttered when Jack bent close, his lips brushing her ear. “Then I shan’t take my eyes off you. Nor let
you go.” Jack turned his hand so he could reach around
her wrist. He slipped his fingers into the gap between her
the sleeve of her spencer and gloves, stroking her skin.
The shudder that rushed through Charlotte’s limbs almost
made her lose her footing.
Charlotte let herself begin to melt against Jack, feeling
his breath warm her temple, wondering at the sensation
evoked by his caresses on such a small patch of bare skin.
I can’t kiss you.
But in the next moment, Charlotte recalled other
words, spoken by Lady Winter:
Have you brought Eleanor to see me?
Jerking up roughly, Charlotte freed her wrist from
Jack’s light grasp. “I wouldn’t want to distract you from
more pressing matters. I can take care of myself. You
needn’t worry about me getting into trouble.”
It was one thing to permit Jack to hold her hand for
comfort after the witnessing his mother’s sorry state, but
now he was taking liberties she couldn’t tolerate.
Charlotte tried to pull her arm completely away from
him, but Jack restrained her. “I’m still your escort, Charlotte,” he said.
“And I’ll pretend I’m honored to be the charge of such
a fine gentleman,” Charlotte shot back.
“Charlotte.” Jack’s voice was pained, but Charlotte
wouldn’t look at him again.
Another memory intruded on her thoughts.
I’m not
who you think I am.
Her chest felt tight. How could she soften toward someone who said such things? What did she truly know about
Jack? The only thing Charlotte was certain of was that she
had no idea what he wanted from her.
They fell into silence, Jack sulking and Charlotte angry, as they entered the fair. Crammed with tents, booths,
and wandering performers, the Tinkers’ Fair was mad
with activity. Spectators crammed the paths, jostling each
other to enter this tent or gape at that fire-eater.
Meg pushed her way in front of Jack and Charlotte,
casting her gaze about freely as if simply taking in the
sights, although it was clear that she was leading them
somewhere in particular. The crowd became more dense
as they passed into the heart of the fair. Here the small
booths of food purveyors gave way to opulent pavilions.
Barkers cried out to the fairgoers; incredibly, their voices
carried over the din of noise.
“Man or great ape? Who is the strongest? Come place
your bets before the fight begins!”
“Every lady’s wish granted here! Tinker Godwin sees
into your heart before he crafts the perfect ornamentation
for you! No two pieces alike! Gentlemen—want to win
your true love? Tinker Godwin guarantees your lady will
adore this matchless symbol of your devotion!”
“Can you climb Jacob’s Ladder? Try to best the cleverest piece of machinery at the fair!”
Though Charlotte felt drawn to the fair’s distractions,
she was forced to keep following Meg. The older girl ignored the calls, intent on her goal, the largest pavilion, so
big it had several entrances. The pavilion was paneled in
diverse shades of metallic fabric that threw back the gleam
of torchlight. Meg took them around the side of the tent.
One silver tent flap was pulled up, held open by a velvet
cord secured to a post. No barker shouted an invitation to
them, but a strange contraption stood alongside the opening.
At first Charlotte thought the metal sculpture was a
strangely rendered tree, but when they drew near the brass
arms, the piece began to move. Orbs floated around glass
globe at the heart of the sculpture as it flared to life, burning bright orange. A voice crackled at them:
“Here resides Madam Jedda, mistress of the universe.
Seekers of truth may enter and know what lies hidden in
the stars.”
Meg looked at Jack. “You and Ash stay here. Make sure
no one tries to come in while we’re speaking with her.”
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Ash frowned at Meg.
“It’s been so long.”
Meg’s face was drawn in a way Charlotte had never
seen. “I know how long it’s been. And I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re sure—” Ash pressed.
“I’m sure.” Meg cut him off and said to Jack, “I’ll need
some coins.”
“Of course.” Jack drew a handful of silver pieces from
his pocket and handed them to Meg.
“Charlotte, Grave, come with me,” Meg instructed
them in a brusque tone. “Do not speak unless I tell you to.”
Charlotte nodded, Meg’s abrupt manner startling her
into dumbness. Grave, in his oddly quiet manner, followed
obediently when Meg passed beneath the tent flap. It took
Ash giving Charlotte a slight push to send her after them.
Inside the tent, they encountered yet another elaborate
entrance to Madam Jedda’s domain. A half-circle wooden
panel bisected the round space that was dimly lit by candles. The signs of the zodiac had been carved into the left
side of the panel, while on the right, gods and goddesses
stood beside their corresponding planets. At the center of
the wooden wall, a woman stood, her arms were extended,
protruding from the panel and her palms facing up and
open. Charlotte recognized the figure as Ariadne, witch
and beloved of Athene—patron of art and craft. Ariadne’s
magical threads had led Theseus from doom within the
labyrinth. Emissary of the goddess of wisdom, Ariadne
was known to be a guardian of arcane mystery.