Clockwork Blue (9 page)

Allegro fluttered his wings, the pastel colors somehow bright
in
the dark night.
"
Nobody can see us but you.
"

"
Then, I can
'
t concentrate when you
'
re always startling me. Go on, return to my reticule.
"
She indicated the silk bag dangling at her wrist.

Glissando
'
s
legs were crossed, his han
ds stretched beneath his head.
"
Come, Allegro. This is rather comfy, and it beats flying all the way. Besides, her
request is small compared to what
'
s about to happen.
"

Nicola
frowned.
"
What do you mean?
"

"
Don
'
t mind him. Make haste, miss.
"
Allegro
entered the
reticule
and sat in a far comer. Pulsating flashes of his bright
yellow
light mixed with the
red
glimmer from
Glissando
.

"
I
'
ll let you
out as soon as I rescue Ramsey.
"

"
Quit your ad
dlepated talk and hurry, woman,
"
Allegro grumbled.

Exasperated,
Nicola
drew the reticule shut and eased her way toward the building. As she neared the window, cold realization splashed
over her. It was open. Dim low-
burning wall sconces flared, giving her enough light to see.

She poked her
head inside,
and then
shrieked,
"
No, Ramsey
.
"

The sharp crack of an axe on a loom splintered the air, the reverberation in discord with the peaceful surroundings. The force of the strike knock
ed
her bones toge
ther. Her reticule bounced.
Glissando trilled a series of quick notes, the music haunting, beautiful. However,
Allegro let loose a series of high, trumpet
-
like blasts
, ruining the harmony
. Her handbag gleamed like a Chinese lantern.

"
Shhh!
"
Nicola
admonished the Callers.

Ramsey glanced up, his dark bro
ws beetled.
"
Nicola
.
You caused me to miss the mechanism.
"

"
Thank the heavens I did!
"
Hoisting hersel
f up, she perched on the window
'
s broken openin
g. Wood bit into her backside.
"
Ouch.
"

"
What are you doing here?
"
Ramsey asked in a low, angry tone.

"
Saving you from deportation.
"
She gritted her teeth and crawled through the window.

Ramsey shook his head.
"
You won
'
t
save
me
by
yelling
out my n
ame for anyone passing to hear.
"

Not bothering to respond, she stood. The sound of ripping silk angered her even mo
re.
"
Cogs
,
why did you have to choose tonight for your mischief? The F
alcon is bound to discover you.
"

Ramsey curved his dear
but arrogant mouth in a smirk.
"
This was the best opportunity, what with him busy honoring us commoners with his exa
lted presence.
"

She walked between two rows of worktables with piles of raw cloth on each. The wall sconces offered little light, casting eerie shadows in the comers of the old workroom that was filled with at least twenty looms. She
made her way
toward Ramsey, who stood near the largest machine. Even in the dim illumination, she could see
the ugly scar in the rich-looking
mahogany frame.
Her mouth dried.

Just recalling
Malcolm
Addison
'
s
austere, intent
regard, and the
warning bolt of electricity
that
had gone through her
, had apprehension curling down
Nicola
'
s spine.
"
Falconwood
looked bored. He could very well leav
e for home early—or come here.
"

"
Bored? You don
'
t know aristocrats
like I do. You know, from the clubs in London?
"
Ramsey gave an impatient wave of his hand,
his sturdy shoulders bunching.
"
He was playing whi
st and deep into the game. Didn
'
t you see him? Why, he acted as
if he would be there all night.
"

Halting between Ramsey and the loom,
Nicola
wagged her finger at him. It was an action she knew
he resented, but for
ye
ars she
'
d assumed the role of surrogate mother and it was
difficult to curb old habits.
"
You
'
ve got to stop endangering yourself like this. You
'
re
much
too rash.
"

Scowling at her, he ran a han
d through his curly red locks.
"
Is it too rash to support General Luddite and the stockingers? I thought you wa
nted to help in the cause, too.
"

"
You
know
I do.
"
The plight of the stockingers, those who labored
long and
hard
, weaving on the hosiers
'
looms
ye
t received ridiculously low wages for all their hours of work, wrenched her heart.
Yes
, she remembered more clearly than Ramsey those early days when her father had been in the same harrowing predicament, being a stockinger himself.

Memories crashed through her. Living from hand to mouth. Traveling
from shire to shire,
as her father searched for work. Then getting fired for making poor-
quality
fabric that
her father and the other stockingers were helpless to prevent. Oh, she knew exactly how the hosiers treated their subordinates. They forced the weavers to use wide looms designed for pantaloons to make several products. Every stockinger knew that the weave from such a loom, once cut up and sewn into stockings, would never last more than three months.

It had been a bitter pill for her father to swallow, to be censured by the public for substandard clothing. Although it chafed her not to get the credit
, she
'
d been fiercely glad when he claimed and marketed her
dyes
, thereby getting the family out of the weaving business. The
dyes
had allowed them to settle in Nottingham—to climb in social rank to the middle class.

But others weren
'
t so fortunate, and now the pay was even lower than twelve
ye
ars ago. No, nothing touche
d her more than General Luddite
'
s tire
less efforts on the stockingers
'
behalf.
"
But destroying someone else
'
s equipment will d
o nothing to further our cause!
"
With a sinking feeling, she turned to examine the deep gouge in F
alconwood
'
s magnificent loom.
"
How could you do this?
"

From the thrust of
his chin, she knew Ramsey wasn
'
t going to cooperate.
"
The handbills haven
'
t worked.
"

"
Don
'
t be so hasty. It takes time for people to change their a
ttitudes.
"

"
My destruction of this loom will cause the government to sit up and realize it needs to change its attitude sooner. Falcon has a place in Parliament, and he will
be the first to realize that we
'
re serious about the injustice toward stockingers
. If he wants to save his looms, he
'
ll petition to change the law.
"