Shadow of the War Machine (The Secret Order) (20 page)

I didn’t realize I was so tired until I saw the bed. I didn’t feel as if I had slept properly in a bed in ages. Marie Marguerite clasped her hands together as if she couldn’t decide what she should do with them. “You may stay here. Where are your trunks?”

It was a simple question, but the truth didn’t paint me in a very good light. I didn’t know how Gustave had explained my sudden arrival to his wife, but her gaze kept flickering to my hem. She must have thought I had run away from my protector, and my lack of trunks would do little to spare her that conclusion. Still, it wasn’t as if my trunks would suddenly arrive. “I don’t have any.” I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair had become disheveled, I didn’t have a bonnet, and I looked a fright.

“Did you run away?” She squinted her eyes, clearly suspicious of me.

“Not precisely.”

“Did you plan to elope?” Her hand came up to her throat.

“No, not at all.” I had to think of some explanation for all this, but my mind felt jumbled, and there simply was no good explanation for my appearance or my presence in France.

Her face brightened somewhat. “Do you run away from a marriage your protector has arranged for you?”

“Yes,” I lied. “Yes, that is it exactly. I do not wish to marry.” At least that much was the truth.

I thought about the kiss on the train. Well, perhaps I did wish to be married a little, but Marie Marguerite hardly needed to know about that. This was my best explanation, and I needed to abide by it.

“Oh, my,” she exclaimed, taking a place on the bed and pulling me down next to her. I shifted my injured arm away. “Marriage is not so terrible. I had misgivings as well when my mother told me I was to marry Gustave, but I knew him from my childhood, and he is a very kind husband. Perhaps it will be the same for you.”

I had to swallow the tightness in my throat. How did I find myself in this conversation? “I don’t believe it will be the same for me.” Actually, I was quite sure it wouldn’t.

“You are a ward, no?” she asked.

“I am.”

She seemed to relax a bit, now that she had taken on the
role of the wise madam who already knew everything there was to know about matrimony, though she had only herself been married for less than a year. “It must be hard not to have a family of your own.”

I scooted an inch to put a small distance between us. “Yes, it is.”

And it was. I tried not to let my longing for my family overcome me too often, but there were times I couldn’t escape it.

Marie placed her hand on mine. “Then why should you not wish to begin a family of your own? You could have six children before the end of the decade, and then you’d have a very large family to care for.”

By heaven, that was the last thing I needed. “Thank you for your concern, but this situation really is untenable,” I protested. I felt the heat in my cheeks. I wished to marry Will eventually, but it wasn’t our time. I had too much I needed to accomplish, and so did he.

“Is there something the matter with your betrothed?”

“No.”

“Is he old?”

“No.”

“Poor, unattractive, unkind?” She seemed genuinely
concerned for me, which only made me feel worse about this entire ruse. Perhaps it wasn’t wise to mention that I had turned down an offer from a young, wealthy, handsome—if irritating—earl. “No, it is nothing like that.”

Her lips pinched tightly together, making her face seem that much more stark. “Allow me to give you some advice. If a girl does not have a wealthy dowry, it is best to take the offer one is given. You would not wish to be on the shelf forever. You would never have a life of your own.”

I blinked, speechless. For the life of me, I had never met anyone so intent upon my private circumstances. “What of you?” I suddenly realized I didn’t know Gustave’s last name, and it would hardly be proper to address her husband by first name. “Did you have any misgivings before you wed?” I asked.

She laughed, but it wasn’t a joyous sound. There was something hollow and uncomfortable about it. “He was in need of a wife, and now here I am, Madame Eiffel.” She patted me on my hand. “Do not fret. I’m sure you shall come to your senses soon. Your protector will not wish to keep you as a ward forever, and what will you do when he turns you out on your own? I will ask my husband if we can have an outing. We can go shopping for a new dress for you in the morning,
and a bonnet. I’m sure his friend will not mind. Then when you return to London, perhaps you will be in better spirits.”

A chill ran down my back. Marie Marguerite’s words felt so foreign to me, and not because they were spoken in French.

“That would be lovely,” I said, feeling very deeply uncomfortable in the presence of the young woman. She was the same age as I, and yet Gustave was older than Oliver. However, that was hardly uncommon. Most families wished to marry off their daughters to men who had already established themselves enough to care for their wives, especially if the girl had little dowry.

I had no dowry, but that didn’t matter. I had something more. I thought about the toy shop and all I had accomplished in the Academy. To be kept as a wife felt so confining to me. I had none of these thoughts when Will and I were careening through dilapidated tunnels, or exploring the mansion of a senile old man. And yet, this world of Marie Marguerite was the world I lived in. This was the expectation on my shoulders.

It was as if I were staring into a curved mirror. I could not recognize the girl in the reflection.

Only two years ago, married like Marie Marguerite was all I had ever aspired to be. I had been preparing for my debut into
society, where the mirage of choice would have been put before me in the form of fancy parties and dances, but in the end the man who wanted me would have chosen me. The wedding would have been arranged, and I would have settled into a life alongside Marie Marguerite, where my world would never have been any larger than the confines of my
place
.

“Perhaps I have a dress you may borrow for our supper so you can make yourself presentable. I’ll return shortly,” Marie Marguerite said. She touched her middle lightly as she rose, and I wondered if she carried a child already. How many more would she carry in her life? Would she do anything else of note? Did she secretly wish to? Or would she become nothing more than a note in the story of her husband’s accomplishments?

Marie Marguerite left the room to retrieve her dress, while I turned to the mirror. I straightened my hair until it was neatly confined in its braids and a knot at the back of my neck once more.

A slight bruise from the flying pieces of brick had appeared on my cheek near my ear. I touched it. It was tender but did not hurt. I placed my hand over the bandage on my arm and the scars I knew I would always bear there.

They made me feel alive.

SUPPER HAD TO BE ONE
of the most surreal experiences of my life. Marie Marguerite’s dress fit me well enough, though it bound me beneath the arms, and the weight of the fabric was enormous. The sleeves billowed out, and I had to take extra care to eat with my very best graces, so as not to place a sleeve into the sauce on my plate.

Gustave took to discussing the finer points of metallurgy with Will in English, which was well enough for our ruse. Marie Marguerite assumed Will and I didn’t know one another at all, and instead she occupied me with small talk about the weather in France, and her predictions for the weather come spring. Occasionally she added some variation
to the conversation by discussing the quality of the cheese that had been served, or complaining about the lack of proper linens in the house.

I had to bite my tongue to keep from joining into conversation with the men, but I had to play my part. Instead I tried to draw out some of Marie Marguerite’s interests or even opinions, but whenever I broached any topic of conversation other than the weather or the quality of the linens, she brushed it off and turned our conversation back toward the mundane.

I was ready to scream.

When my hostess retired for the evening, I breathed a sigh of relief. Will retired as well, so as not to appear unseemly.

It frustrated me that I couldn’t even bid him good night.

When we were finally alone, Gustave addressed me directly.

“Marie Marguerite asked me to talk some sense into you,” he said, taking his glass of wine in hand. “It seems she’s under the impression you’re running away from a forced marriage.” He chuckled. “Poor thing.”

I sipped my cup of coffee. Oliver had helped me discover a taste for it, and this particular cup was very fine indeed. I placed it on its saucer.

There was something I wished to discuss with him, but it was a risk. Gustave was new to the Order, and so the traditions of the Amusementists didn’t seem so tightly imprinted on him. I hoped to discuss Haddock with him but wasn’t sure if he would reprimand me for mentioning the forbidden name.

I decided to be direct.

“What do you know of Haddock?” I asked.

Gustave choked on his wine. He coughed, pounding his chest as he looked at me through squinted eyes. “That name is forbidden.” He grimaced, as if he too were at war with himself over whether or not to have this conversation.

“I know, which is my difficulty, because I believe Haddock is the one holding my grandfather hostage.” I turned my cup on its saucer, then slowly turned it back again. “Punish me if you must, but I can’t get to the truth of the matter if I cannot speak freely. If Haddock is dead, his punishment is complete. He won’t care one way or the other if we have this conversation.”

Gustave shifted uneasily. Eventually his eyes met mine, and there was a gravity in his expression that hadn’t been there before. “Haddock is well and truly dead. He’s buried in Père Lachaise. He cannot be the one holding your grandfather.”

“Logically I know that, but that scandal seems to be the only thing in my grandfather’s past fraught with enough hostility to lead to murder.” I scooted back in my chair. Someone had to know something so I could put the Haddock name to rest once and for all.

“I know little. Only rumor. The incident was before my time. During my apprenticeship, he was whispered about among my peers. A cautionary tale.” Gustave took another sip of wine.

“Do you believe he could still be alive?” I asked. “That he could somehow resurrect himself through mechanical means?”

He shook his head, as if I had just asked him if it were possible for an elephant to sprout wings and fly. “That is impossible. He is dead and buried. If you know what is best, you’d leave that name be, before you offend someone with more reason to reprimand you than I. You must take care, Apprentice.” Gustave cleared his throat. “A man cannot reach beyond the grave. He had no heir. His name is as dead as he is.”

“The man who attacked me wears a clockwork mask embedded in his flesh,” I said.

Gustave’s eyebrows rose. “How can that be?”

“Are you certain there is no way to mechanically resurrect
someone? My kidnapper used a bomb bearing Haddock’s mark to attack me.” I took another sip of coffee even though my hands felt unsteady.

Gustave tapped his wineglass in a thoughtful manner. “He created terrible things. Perhaps the one who wishes you harm merely knew where some of the dead man’s old abominations were kept and wishes to claim them.”

Lord knows I had discovered enough old Amusements on my own. “That is possible.” I had considered that the man in the clockwork mask may have simply uncovered an old workshop and used the bomb for his own devices. There was only one problem with that line of reasoning. “But if that is the case, then the man in the clockwork mask must still be connected to Haddock in some way, or he wouldn’t have known how to set one of Haddock’s bombs. It’s not as if these things are left around unprotected, not bombs anyway.”

Gustave’s expression tightened. “Please, do not say his name again. We understand one another. It’s not necessary.”

I realized the Black Mark was supposed to be a punishment. It would be dreadful to have your entire existence erased among a group of people who valued their contributions and their reputations so dearly.

Gustave placed his wineglass down and scratched his
beard on his right cheek in a slow and thoughtful manner. “Where would you like to begin your search tomorrow?”

“I have no possible link to the Frenchwoman who may have owned the necklace we found. The best clue I have at the moment is the one who bears the Mark. I’d like to visit his grave,” I said.

Gustave leaned back and cocked his head slightly to the side, much in the same way that a horse does when it balks at a jump. “There are many connected to the Order in the city as we speak, preparing to travel to London for the oath. If they catch you, the consequences within the Order are not to be taken lightly.”

“Thank you, Gustave. I understand the risk.” I stood, ready to retire for the evening. “I deeply appreciate all that you’ve done for me.”

“Do not thank me if you are caught. I want nothing to do with that cursed name.” He rose as well and gave me a bow. “I regret I can do no more to help.”

“I understand.” The closer I came to Haddock, the less help I would find.

•  •  •

That night I had trouble falling asleep. I was warm, I was comfortable, I was clean, and yet I could find no peace.
The heavy feather mattress surrounded me, and with every breath, I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into it as I stared at the ceiling. Too many things plagued my mind for me to find rest.

Every sound in the house sounded amplified in my ears. I tried to force myself to sleep. I needed to keep my mind sharp in order to find Haddock’s grave.

I turned to my side. The wall held my interest as much as the ceiling. I closed my eyes and refused to open them.

Visions danced through my head, drawings, designs, and mathematical formulae. I often used the time just before sleep to try to piece together my grandest ideas. I pictured the clues I had thus far. In my mind I could see a puzzle, but the center was missing. It was an enormous dark hole that no amount of knowledge could fill.