The Escapement of Blackledge: a novella (12 page)

Mr. Mohabir took charge of the chair and wheeled it into the center of the chamber, just as Helena reached the foot of the stairs. At the chair, she dropped to her knees and embraced her father. His arms lifted out of the blanket and wrapped around her.

"Helena?" He bent and kissed her head. "I am grateful for the surprise, but you must tell me where we are."

"Home." Her voice was choked. "We're at home."

His head lifted sharply and turned as though he might see something. Weatherby clenched his fist on the banister at the naked wonder on the man's face.

"Did Paulina...?"

"No." The younger Lord Worthen stepped forward as upright as the older man was bent. "But I am very curious to meet you."

The old man tilted his head to the side. "The pleasure is mine, but I am afraid I shall need some help with the introductions."

"I am Andrew Worthen."

Lord Worthen laughed with delight. "You sound like a young man now, which I suppose you must be. Do you still have the windup horse I gave you?"

The young man put his hand to his mouth and stepped forward. "I played with it until it broke, I'm afraid."

From the top of the stairs, Lady Worthen said, "This— this
stranger
is trying to swindle you out of your inheritance."

“But Mother, I will inherit the title regardless and as I am not yet of age, that seems no great thing. All that would alter is— ah.” He looked deeply saddened. “The only thing that would alter is that you would not have control of the finances.”

“Andrew! Do not be a fool. You do not know these people.”

"I am not a fool, mother." He lifted his chin to look up the stairs at his mother. "That is how I can tell that this is my uncle. And my cousin. We have done them a great wrong."

Helena collapsed to sit on the floor, sobbing.

Weatherby could stand it no more and raced down the stairs two at a time. He dropped to his knees at her side and pressed a handkerchief into her hand.

She took it and pressed it against her eyes. Her father reached out, trying to find her, but Helena was just beyond his grasp. Weatherby looked up and met Mr. Mohabir's gaze. Her foster father pushed Lord Worthen closer until his hand brushed her hair.

Weatherby wiped his mouth. This was not his moment. This was a time for Helena and her father and her foster parents. They had done what they came to do, even if not quite in the way they had planned, and he could talk to Lord Worthen later. He pressed his hand against Helena's shoulder in reassurance and stood.

"Wait--" She grasped his hand and Weatherby's knees went weak. "Papa? My I present Lord Blackledge? He has-- he has been very helpful."

What had she been about to say? Weatherby bowed to Lord Worthen. "A pleasure, sir."

The old man tilted his head up, a smile twisting his face. "Any one who is kind to my daughter is already a friend."

He wished very much to be more than a friend and had to bite his lip to keep himself from saying that aloud. "I have been an admirer of your work for some time."

Helena wilted a little. What-- what was he supposed to have said?

George appeared at his elbow with a sheet of paper. "Lord Blackledge. I think you dropped this."

"What?" He took a folded paper that George handed him and his mouth dropped open. Oh. That was what he was supposed to have said to Lord Worthen. "I... Ah. Yes. That is, thank you, Mr. Corke."

With a winning smile, George offered Helena a hand and pulled her to her feet. "He really can't be left to his own devices. Just so you know."

"What is it?"

Weatherby swallowed and stiffened his knees. "It is a Special License. Lord Worthen... what I should have said is that I admire your work, the chief of which is your daughter."

Lord Worthen gave a laugh that was rich and joyous. "That is the truest thing anyone has ever said."

Weatherby faced Helena, trying to pretend that they did not have an audience for this moment. Although two members of that audience were every bit as important as Lord Worthen. He looked to Mr and Mrs Mohabir, who both looked ready to cry. His words might be for Helena’s foster parents and Lord Worthen, but the question was truly for her. "May I ask for her hand in marriage?"

"Is that what you want, my dear?" Lord Worthen reached for Helena's hand.

She took it, tears staining her cheeks, and nodded, then spoke so he would know her answer. "Yes, Papa.

"Then you both have my blessing." He laughed again. "A special license for marriage, eh? No waiting to for the banns to be read. I did the same thing with my late wife. Do not let her get away, young man."

“I shall not let.” Weatherby smiled at Helena, who wore the breeches that had been her costume when they first met. He had never seen a more lovely sight. Well… perhaps he had, but
that
was not a safe thought with her father here. “Believe me, sir. I shall not."

Helena climbed into the carriage, nearly tripping on the hem of her gown. She was married.
They
were married. The carriage rocked, as Weatherby climbed in after her and settled at her side. He looked quite as dazed as she felt.

"Lady Blackledge!" Mama Agnes stood outside the carriage, with a small bundle in her hands. Behind her Helena’s cousin, Andrew Worthen, had offered Weatherby’s mother his arm. Her aunt had found it necessary to “retreat” to the continent, but her cousin had been delighted to see them restored.

Helena blinked at her foster mother for a moment before recalling that
she
was now Lady Blackledge. Good heavens. She was a duchess. "Yes, Mama Agnes?"

Her foster mother handed the parcel to her. "I thought you might want this."

It was wrapped in cloth and tied with a green ribbon. She reached for the bow to undo it.

"Wait-- Not until the carriage leaves." She glanced over her shoulder where Papa Fred pushed Helena's father down the path of the church. "I didn't want your fathers to see it."

Helena tilted her head. "How curious."

"Consider it my blessing on your marriage." Mama Agnes leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. While she was close, she whispered. "I have never been so happy to be wrong in all my days."

"Thank you. For everything."

With a quick squeeze of Helena's hand, she stepped back and shut the carriage door. "Now! I'll take your fathers home and we shall have quite the cozy evening with young Mr. Worthen."

Helena waved out the window as the carriage pulled away from the church. "Good bye, Papa!"

Weatherby's hand rested on her back, a warm comforting presence. Helena leaned back from the window and settled into the comfort of his arm. "Shall we see what Mama Agnes has given us?"

"Given to you, I think more likely."

"Well, she did say it was a blessing for our marriage." Helena pulled the ribbon loose from the package and unwrapped the cloth. Inside were a pair of long leather straps that they used in the show. Helena stared at them for a moment and then began to laugh. "Oh... Oh, she must like you a good deal."

"I might need some explanation." Weatherby picked up one of the straps and rubbed it between his fingers.

"Well..." Helena reached for the window shades and drew them down. "We are circus performers."

"Yes. I know."

She reached for the shades on the other side and pulled them down as well. "Mama Agnes and Papa Fred had an act. A very particular act. One that I was never allowed to participate in."

He made a strangled noise and turned a delightful shade of red. Helena picked up one of the straps and wrapped it around her husband's wrist. "Now... Shall we reconsider your escapement?"

THE END

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Acknowledgments

This started as an April Fool’s joke.

No. Wait. That’s not quite true. Naturally. It became an April Fool’s joke, but it started because I took a workshop at the Surrey International Writers Conference. It’s my favorite conference for writers because the quality of the programming is so good that I want to attend things. So the first thank you is to SiWC.

In this case, I took a workshop on Romance Structure from Elizabeth Boyle. It was revelatory. Understand, I had the five novels of the
Glamourist Histories
under my belt by this point and all of them are in the Romance area of Fantasy. I was working on my sixth book,
Ghost Talkers
and her talk made me go back and rework the outline.In the class, she had us come up with an idea and work on it as a way of internalizing the concepts she was talking about. And that… that is where I wrote the idea for
The Escapement of Blackledge.

Here is the very first moment it appeared in my head and onto a page. The idea was to take a common fairytale, as a familiar construction for the readers, and then invert some part of it to create something new.

So, using Beauty and the Beast as basis, invert something.

Setting: Secondary World city vaguely Ottoman Empire in flavor

Heroine: is Beast - Thief

Hero: is Beauty - Socialite

How did they meet: She was trying to steal something from him.

What is the unique part of Beast that attracts Beauty: Wit and flare

The problem was, the class was so good that by the end I had something I wanted to write. Thanks, Elizabeth. Like I needed another book that I wanted to write. Seriously, you should see the Giant List. I kept kind of poking at it, in part because the idea of trying my hand at a straight romance was sort of appealing, it’s just that I didn’t want to steer my career towards Romance. Don’t get me wrong — I love romance. It’s not that.

This is a weird thing about being an author. You have to pick projects from that Giant List that are going to build your audience. I love romance, but my first love is Science-Fiction/Fantasy. That’s the audience I wanted to connect with and I knew that career-wise, this wasn’t going to be the right book.

But…there was this idea. I kept noodling over the characters. Maybe I could do it as a novella.
Maybe
I could write it as an April Fool’s prank. I could self-publish it! Under a pseudonym!

Here I need to thank the other Writing Excuses podcast hosts, Brandon Sanderson, Howard Tayler, and Dan Wells, who have all self-published things but also just make me a better writer in general. Specifically, I need to thank our special guest M Todd Gallowglass, who came on the show and talked about self-publishing. That was Very Helpful.

See, this April Fool’s prank allowed me to explore several different things, including the idea of self-publishing a thing. I was an art major in college. I’ve worked as an art director. I have all of the skills, I’m just lazy.

I know. This is coming from a woman who wrote 27,000 words for an April Fool’s joke. But you see how many different things it allowed me to explore.

I need to thank my editor at Tor, Liz Gorinsky, who did not work on this novella, but was totally on-board with the idea when I told her what I wanted to do. Also, my agent Jennifer Jackson, who also didn’t represent this book, but offered excellent advice and thought it sounded fun. Thanks to Marie Brennan, who let me kick ideas around with her when we were on book tour, and also introduced me to Archive of Our Own and the great fan-fiction community there.

Next, I need to thank my accomplices on April 1st itself. One of my big concerns with this prank was that someone would get angry on my behalf, because I was selling fanfiction. Within the community, this is a big no-no. So I needed to control the narrative and make it clear that I wasn’t angry and that no one else should be either. I played it as if I thought a friend of mine had written this to prank
me
. This meant that on Twitter, Facebook, and my own blog, I needed accomplices.

Thanks to Elizabeth Bear, who actually rewrote a couple of paragraphs to sound more like her. Many thanks to Scott Lynch and Seanan McGuire, who agreed to join Bear in Protesting Too Much. People who “noticed” the book and “let me know” are Wesley Chu, Dan Wells, Michael Damian Thomas, Madeleine Robbins, Charlotte Cunningham, Nina Niskanen, Annalee Flower Horne, Marie Brennan, Jonathan Marcus, Darci Cole, John Devenny, Julia Rios. Except for the first three names, these folks also beta-read while I was working on it. That’s the only reason it’s coherent. Many thanks to Lynne Thomas who helped me come up with the title and hashed out the occasional idea when I needed to bounce it off someone.

Thanks to my husband, Robert Kowal, who was very understanding while I worked on an elaborate joke.

And finally, many thanks to all the people who joined in on April Fool’s day while I pretended to try to figure out Melody Ellsworth was. This is why I affectionately call April Fool’s “Alternate Reality Day” because it can be an awful lot of fun to play.