Steven Harper - The Doomsday Vault

He put a shaking hand to his mouth in a gesture that Gavin had seen Alice use. “I didn’t get a wink of sleep. This is not what a proper daughter does to her father.”

Alice looked down, clearly ashamed. “No. I’m very sorry. I can’t explain or excuse it. I should have come straight home after meeting with Norbert. Can you forgive me?”

“Your aunt Edwina acted like this,” he continued, still distraught. “Even before the Ad Hoc ladies. And look what happened to her.”

Alice’s face tightened. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“Well.” He patted her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

“May I introduce Mr. Gavin Ennock?” she said in a different tone. “He quite saved my life. Mr. Ennock, this is my father, Arthur, Baron Michaels.”

Gavin didn’t know if he should bow or shake the man’s hand or grovel on the floor. He waited to see what Arthur would do, and when he held out his hand, Gavin took it. He wondered why Arthur was in a wheelchair. Old age? Lost limb hidden by the blankets? Disease? The last thought made him wonder about the safety of shaking hands, but it was too late. Arthur’s grip was devoid of strength, and Gavin was careful not to press the frail fingers.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” he said.

“And you,” Arthur said a little faintly. “What happened, exactly? And where did this automaton come from?”

“It’s quite a story,” Alice said.

“Perhaps,” Kemp said, “Madam could tell it after a wash and a change of clothing? You must look after yourself.”

“That’s a fine idea, Kemp. Thank you. Gav-Mr. Ennock could use a wash as well, and I think some of Father’s old clothes might fit him until we can launder the ones he’s wearing. And perhaps you could also arrange for Father’s breakfast? He usually has tea and toast.”

“Immediately, Madam.”

The washtub hung in an alcove just off the kitchen. A bath and new clothes made Gavin feel much better, though he was yawning to split his head. He returned to the front room where Alice, who had cleaned up in her own room, was just finishing the story of their long night.

“Good Lord,” Arthur said at the end. “And you say there’s nothing left of the house at all?”

“Just Kemp,” Alice replied. “And Mr. Ennock, here. He has nowhere to go, Father, and considering that he saved my life, I thought you could offer him a place to stay for a while.”

“Er…”

The hesitation was obvious. Gavin kept a pleasant expression on his face, but was mentally heading for the door: So much for a reward, or a return to Boston. Or the chance to see Alice again. He felt like a bird covered in lead feathers. “I couldn’t impose, sir,” he said.

“I’m not sure about the proprieties,” Arthur said. “As a newly engaged woman, Alice, you can’t invite a young man to-”

“I won’t invite him, Father,” Alice interrupted. “You will.”

“Ah. Quite. In that case. .”

“I’m afraid the only room available has no window, Mr. Ennock,” Alice apologized. “It’s across the hall from mine.”

Some of the lead lightened, and Gavin managed a wider smile. “It’s better than a basement.” He covered another yawn, which made Alice yawn.

“You’re falling over from exhaustion, Madam,” Kemp said. “I must insist on a lie-down while I fix a place for Mr. Ennock.”

Moments later, Gavin was lying on a pallet in a warm, windowless room. He touched both his fiddle case and the nightingale for reassurance and thought there was no way he would actually be able to sleep after everything that had happened. Then he fell asleep.

Alice stared at the ceiling. By all rights she should be asleep, but the events of the previous day replayed in her mind. It was the night of the zombie attack all over again. She should have found it all horrifying and frightening, but here, in the honesty of her own bed, she was forced to admit she had found every moment fascinating and invigorating. Even multiple brushes with death hadn’t so much filled her with dread as thrilled her with excitation, as if being close to the grave had made her find more sweetness in life. Perhaps that was why she couldn’t sleep-she felt she was wasting breath.

Her mind also kept returning to Gavin. He was handsome, with a smile that made her think of sunshine and musical skill that made her soul soar. But he was the wrong social class, and Alice was engaged. It wasn’t proper for any woman in her position to be interested in him, and certainly not for a woman from a traditional family.

But she couldn’t have turned him out into the street after he had saved her life-twice. That wouldn’t have been proper, either.

Alice sat up and moved to her worktable, where she fiddled idly with a driveshaft and a pair of gears. Perhaps Norbert would consent to hire Gavin as a footman in his country home, where Alice could hear him anytime she wished. Then she scoffed to herself. Now she was just being foolish. She looked down at her hands and realized she had set the gears down and was toying with Glenda Teasdale’s calling card, the one Louisa had commented on earlier.

If you find you need a change in your life, write to me, all right?

Alice didn’t need a change in her life. For once, everything was going where it should. But the entire affair with Aunt Edwina continued to puzzle her. Where had Aunt Edwina gone? Who had broken into her house and destroyed her laboratory? Why had she kidnapped Gavin? How had she survived the clockwork plague for so long? And why was that clockworker in the skull mask spying on her?

The Third Ward clearly dealt with questions of this sort. And so, although Alice Michaels definitely didn’t need a change in her life-most certainly did not-she scribbled a quick letter, folded it expertly into an envelope, and turned back to the calling card. Glenda hadn’t written an address on it. After a moment’s thought, Alice wrote Miss Glenda Teasdale, The Third Ward, v 2.

“Kemp!” she called.

The door opened. “Madam?”

She handed him the letter. “Post this for me right away, please.”

“Of course, Madam.”

Alice climbed back into bed and surprised herself by instantly falling asleep.

Alice awoke, thinking only an hour or two had passed, but Kemp informed her she had slept through the entire day and the following night. So had Gavin.

“Baron Michaels wished to wake you earlier, but I wouldn’t hear of it,” Kemp said as Alice’s little automatons brought her a dress. “I have seen to his needs.”

“Thank you, Kemp.” Alice almost ordered Kemp out of the room while she dressed, but although Kemp was shaped like a man, he was only a machine. Still, she ordered him to turn his back.

“Madam, I must ask,” Kemp continued. “Why do you and Lord Michaels live in such frightful conditions? The Michaels family lineage is long and proud.”

“It’s what we can afford.” Alice slipped into the dress and waited while two little automatons fastened the buttons behind her. “Titles and wealth don’t always go together.”

Kemp gave a mechanical sniff. “Yes, Madam. I have taken the liberty of doing the shopping. Previous Madam still had a bit of petty cash money on account at a local bank, and I restocked the larder with something better than day-old bread and dried cheese. I think fresh fruit will do Lord Michaels some good.”

“That’s a relief, Kemp. Thank you.”

“And when you are finished with your toilette,” he said, “I will inform your callers that you are ready to receive them.”

Alice paused, a hairbrush in her hand. “Callers?”

“A Miss Glenda Teasdale and a Mr. Simon d’Arco arrived something over an hour ago. It’s the reason Lord Michaels wished to wake you.” Another sniff. “Mr. d’Arco appears to be of Italian extraction.”