“So good of you to join me, Miss Michaels,” Norbert said, his usual farewell.
“So good of you to invite me, Mr. Williamson,” she said, her usual reply.
Their eyes met for a moment, brown to brown. Alice held her breath. Now was the moment. It would happen. She would feel a catch in her throat, a flutter in her breast, a weakening in her knees.
She felt nothing.
Quickly, she lowered her eyes and released his hand as if a bit overcome, turned, and fled into the house. Once inside, she peeped through the drawing room window in time to watch Norbert’s carriage pull away.
“All London is astir, darling. You have to tell me everything!”
Alice spun around so quickly, her skirts swirled to catch up with her. Louisa Creek was sitting in a wingback chair, an open book in her hand and Click in her lap. She wore a soft green dress with a stark white hat and matching white gloves.
“Louisa!” Alice gasped. “What are you doing here?”
“You never called on me after the ball.” Louisa idly stroked Click’s brass back with her free hand. “I was deeply wounded and came to see about your apology. Your father-a very nice man who was quite pleased to discover his close-mouthed daughter actually has a friend-invited me in and offered to let me sit until you came home. We had a nice chat until he retired for his nap. I’m surprised he didn’t recognize me, but he has grown nearsighted.”
“Why would he recognize you?”
“We ran in the same circles years ago, darling. I’m surprised he never mentioned me.”
“Oh. Yes. Well.” Alice hung her jacket on the coatrack to regain her composure. Finding Louisa in her drawing room was like discovering a kitten in the cupboard-not necessarily unwelcome, but still startling. “I see you’ve met Click.”
“Indeed. He’s charming.” She stood up, dumping the affronted Click off her lap and tossing the book aside. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll help you change, and you can beg my forgiveness while you tell me all about this tempestuous affair with Norby.”
In an instant, Louisa was up the steps and disappearing around the turn. A pang touched Alice’s stomach. “Louisa! Wait!”
She gathered her long skirts and hurried up the stairs. In the tiny hallway, Louisa was already opening Alice’s bedroom door. Before Alice could stop her, she strode on in. Alice halted. There was a long, long silence.
“Alice!” Louisa called. “Really!”
Alice sighed, straightened her back, and marched in. “Yes?”
Louisa stood in the middle of the room surrounded by Alice’s little automatons. More than a dozen of them scampered, climbed, crawled, and flitted about her. Louisa stared at them, her mouth agape.
“I’m so sorry,” Alice babbled. “I usually shut them away when company comes, but I didn’t know you were-”
“These are astonishing, darling.” Louisa put out her hand, and one of the whirligig automatons landed on it. “The work of a true genius. Are they gifts from Norby?”
“No.”
“Did you make them yourself, then?”
“I assembled them. They came in pieces as gifts from my aunt Edwina.”
“She sounds a fascinating woman! I must meet her sometime.”
Alice edged closer. “You’re not upset?”
“Upset? Why would I be upset?”
“Women aren’t engineers,” Alice said.
“Yes, they are,” Louisa said. “You of all people must have heard of Countess Ada Lovelace, and she isn’t alone in the field.”
“Ada Lovelace didn’t work for money. She had the wealth to flout convention.”
Louisa flipped the automaton into the air and leveled a hard gaze at Alice. “You honestly thought someone who flouted convention would bother me?”
“Oh.” Alice felt she was rapidly losing more and more control of the situation. “I mean, we haven’t known each other that long.”
“Now you owe me two apologies,” Louisa sniffed. “Let’s get you changed. You smell like machine oil from that dreadfully overstated carriage your beau drives. Do you keep your wardrobe locked?”
“No, of course not.” Alice straightened again and clapped her hands. “I need an at-home dress. My blue one, please.”
The automatons rushed to open the wardrobe and bring out Alice’s dress, which glided through the air like a ghost. Another automaton dashed up to pry open Alice’s shoes while a flier zipped around behind to start on her back buttons. Inscribed on the flier’s side were the words Love, Aunt Edwina.
“I’ll do that. Thank you.” Louisa brushed the whirling machine aside. “So this is how you got ready for the ball without the help of a maid. They’re so well designed, darling. The work of a genius.”
“You said that.” Alice stepped out of her shoes and carriage dress, and Louisa set to work on the stubborn crinolines. “They make Father uncomfortable. That’s why I usually keep them up here.”
“A shame. Lift your arms, darling. Why have I never heard of this aunt Edwina?”
“She lives like a hermit on a small estate on the edge of London.”
“Did she make these automatons so you could put them together? Is she a… clockworker?”
“Louisa! Certainly not! She’s been sending me automatons since my teenage years. If she had contracted the clockwork plague back then, she would have died years ago.”
“True, darling, true. I didn’t mean to offend. What was she like? I’m dying to know.”
“I barely knew her, to tell the truth, though in some ways I feel I know her very well.” And she found herself telling Louisa the entire story, including the death of her brother, mother, and fiance, even though Louisa doubtless knew most of it.
“I’m so sorry,” Louisa said when she finished. “It’s unfair.”
“It is.” Alice pulled the last crinoline layer off and tossed it aside with a vehemence that surprised even herself. “Sometimes I think the worst of it isn’t that everyone died-I’ve learned to cope with that-but that, though I’m good with machines, as a woman of quality, I can’t do anything with my talent. My only hope for a decent life is to persuade Norbert Williamson to propose marriage, and I don’t even like him very much.”
“Oh dear. So the lovebirds rumor…?”
Alice dropped onto the bed. “I should love him, Louisa. He’s rich. He’s intelligent. He’s not bad-looking. He seems utterly smitten with me-or with the family title; I’m not sure which. But I feel nothing. Nothing at all.”
“You hardly need to,” Louisa pointed out. “You said you can’t look for work, but it sounds as though you’re interviewing for the position of rich man’s wife.”
“You make it sound so mercenary.”
“I’m not judging you, darling. But let’s talk about something more pleasant. Tell me what this is.” She picked up a bit of pasteboard from the workbench. “Miss Glenda Teasdale, Third Ward, and the square root of two. What on earth?”
“Oh, er…” Alice flushed again. Louisa had an absolute genius for ferreting out awkwardness. “On the way home from the ball, I had an unfortunate encounter with a plague zombie or two. Miss Teasdale and… and some friends of hers rescued me.”
“What?” Louisa’s squawk sent the automatons skittering about the room. “Now listen here-I pride myself on knowing everything of interest that goes on in London. Heaven knows I have nothing else to do. But in one afternoon I learn you have a brilliant aunt who managed to escape my notice, and we add to that a zombie attack? Alice!”
“It’s all right,” Alice said, rushing to reassure her. “I wasn’t hurt.” She found herself telling yet another story while Louisa sat rapt on the bed. It felt oddly palliative to relate even these scandalous events out loud.