The Tea Machine (10 page)

“Hubert. Will you please wake up and come over here.” Even Millicent’s sharp call could not snap him out of his delirium. He went to her in a haze of transcendent bliss. He could not stop his gaze from roving now that the annex glowed brighter. The walls shone with a celestial pearly pink that reminded him of a glorious new dawn, and then he saw what Millicent was calling him towards. His joyful heart faltered, and he was cast from Eden into the cold world of scientific endeavour and all its demons.

A pink blob was stretched out heinously tight in a shallow tank filled with some sort of sterile electrolyte. He recognized it as a vivisection station, and his blood pressure plummeted. The inhumanity of the situation physically pained him even though the specimen pegged out before him was alien and looked nothing like any mollusc he had ever seen before.

“It’s big,” he murmured.

“Pah!” Millicent spat out, startling him. “Come closer. Tell me what you see.”

“Well. It’s obviously a member of the cephalopod family.” He began his prognosis then declared in astonishment, “It’s sentient!”

New thoughts, both radical and instinctual, exploded in his brain. If he closed his eyes and stoppered his ears, he was sure there would still be fireworks sizzling his synapses. His mind popped and fizzed as illumination flooded its darkest, dullest corners with enlightenment. “And I do believe it’s a female, though for the life of me I can’t say why? I don’t understand how I should know?”

“I think she has a sort of psychological communication ability.” Millicent was pleased with his perception.

“You mean she is communicating with us.”

“I suspect this whole room illuminated when we entered and alerted her thought processes. It happened before when I went to turn off the current running through her tank. The front of the wiring panel fell away at my touch whereas all the others had to be shot off with laser pistols.” She was very excited about this.

“You’re right,” Hubert exclaimed with increasing awareness. His head felt as if a dozen closed doors had suddenly slammed open, and the rush of fresh air through his brain nearly blew him off his feet. “And she was waiting for us.”

“She’s communicating with you directly?”

“Yes. And her name is Weena.” Hubert was beside himself.

“Weena? How delightful. She communicates with you much better than with me.” Millicent’s eyes were alive with wonder. “Do you think she needs us to have a certain level of intelligence for satisfying discourse? She spoke to Sangfroid, and she didn’t even notice.”

“All these thoughts are flooding my head. If I look at something,” Hubert went over to an instrument on a nearby shelf and picked it up, “I can understand what it is and how it works. Not necessarily how to use it, but the basic premise behind it is in my mind.” He was awestruck. “And Weena is telling me all this.” He held up the apparatus in his hand to demonstrate. “A multimeter for measuring electrical impulses!” he announced delightedly—

“Like the one in your pocket?” Sangfroid tapped Hubert’s coat pocket. “Don’t tell me you’ve been pilfering from my timeline. How’s that going to work out?”

Hubert looked shamefaced. “Please don’t tell Millicent,” he said. “I confess I have been back many more times without her knowledge.”

“Oh, boy.”

“You see, the laboratory became like a drug to me, I had to go back and explore thoroughly. I found I could manipulate the time machine so that I had more and more freedom to browse before you entered the laboratory. And there was another reason.” He could not meet Sangfroid’s eyes. “And I am a terrible man for it. Please understand I love Sophia, but in a different way now from when I first proposed. At that time Papa was dying, and he dearly wanted to see his children settled. Millicent point-blank refused to wed. She wouldn’t even entertain the thought. Can’t say I blame her. It’s different for a woman surrendering her wealth and independence to a future husband. And with her bluestocking tendencies and Chartist politics, I can’t see that Millicent would ever have found a mate to compliment her interests.” He gave Sangfroid a beady look that made her prickle.

“So?” Sangfroid did not like discussing Millicent’s marriage prospects, slim as they were. She wondered at her escaping marriage so easily though. Where Sangfroid came from marriage was a social necessity for the upwardly mobile and always advantageously arranged. Matchmaking was a very lucrative industry.

“Because Millicent wouldn’t entertain the thought, I stepped up to the mark,” Hubert said morosely. “Godfrey Trenchant-Myre was a business acquaintance of my father’s. The Trenchant-Myres were a well-respected family, and it seemed the simplest thing to pledge my troth to Sophia. Of course, our families were delighted. It made the last few weeks of Papa’s illness happier.” He stared moodily into his glass; always a bad sign in those who couldn’t handle their drink. Sangfroid decided to push it a little more before setting Hubert on a homeward path.

“I’m not sure I understand what you feel so bad about?” It was a lie. If she’d have been betrothed to Sophia, she’d have volunteered for a suicide squad at once.

“Because I love Weena.”

Sangfroid stared at her companion, unsure what to say. This little man dressed in blobs of brown tweed had just told her he was in love with a squid? A dirty, big, evil, melt-your-face squid. His round, flushed face with his high, cerebral brow that curved back into his receding hairline shone in the firelight. He looked like he might cry. Clearly she was not going to get any sense out of him in this state. The conversation had swerved into an area Sangfroid had no idea how to deal with, and she bet Hubert would forget his confession by tomorrow morning. She dearly hoped he would. Any more talk would only be embarrassing; best to duck this and move on.

“Come on, sport. Home with you.” Sangfroid hauled her companion to his unsteady feet. “Where do we pay?”

“I’ve a tab.” Hubert led the way out. His head was bowed, and he wobbled and wove a little, but she kept a firm hand on the small of his back and guided him towards the door. “I say, it’s not really that far, do you mind if we walk home?” He sounded despondent.

“Sure.” A walk in the night air was just what her cramped legs needed. It would be nice to experience this weird little city first hand. She was drunk, too. And she didn’t care if it all was a hypno-therapeutic-thingy the squid were playing on her mind. Whatever it was, and wherever she was, it was damn fine.

They stepped from the Prometheus onto slick, wet pavements, the heels of their boots slapping out loud in the night air. The streets shone waxy under the yellow lamplight that cut crazy patterns across the puddled cobblestones.

“You see,” Hubert spoke up as they strolled along. “Every time I went back, I spent more and more time conversing with Weena.” He was determined to complete his confession. Somehow, now they were free from the smoky confines of the club, Sangfroid didn’t mind. The fresh air made her head lighter and clearer, and everything looked and smelled exciting and different. “She’s so smart, Sangfroid. So intelligent and sweet, and those blighters were hurting her. She always knew when I was coming, and she’d help me understand things. Not just in the lab, but about her world and the way it worked.”

“Wonderful.” Sangfroid was more interested in her surroundings than in squid talk. She already knew how smart the squishy buggers were. Hadn’t they decimated her entire unit and then turned the Amoebas into a barbecue? She stopped to pull at a privet hedge and sniff the wet foliage. “Can you eat these?” Her tongue gently tapped the dark green leaves.

“I’ve never tried. Anyway, Weena and I…slowly we became friends, and then, somewhere along the way, I fell in love.” Hubert cried and flung out his arms to embrace the night sky. This was different. Hubert had been almost apologetic up until now. Sangfroid smiled. The fresh air was having its effect on Hubert, too. She perfectly understood. This was a
wonderful
night. The brandy had been superb and plentiful, and now it charged through her blood like a thousand chariots. Hubert was drunk and happy, and Sangfroid had the feeling this did not occur often enough for this compact little man.

“Love is a mighty good thing, Hubert,” she said, noting the slight slur in her voice. A
happy
slur. “Never be ashamed to love. Even if it is inter-species. And a deadly species at that.”

“The female of the species is always deadlier, Sangfroid. Everyone knows that. I used to be terrified of women. In fact, I still get a little nervous, especially on Sophia’s paleobotanical nights.” His face darkened.

“Tell me about it. So what’s with all those ladies?” she asked. “They were so damned nosy.”

“Millicent was badly caught out. She had no idea Sophia had informed half of London’s polite society that she had a “gentleman” caller. As you probably know, Sophia has a deep set neurological condition with seeing you as female. Her nerves just can’t take it, so she redefines you as male. The little ladies of her inner circle will, I’m afraid, share a similar disposition. They simply cannot cope with a true life archetypal fierce woman warrior such as yourself. You will always be a handsome, debonair major in the Prussian Dragoons because that’s what they want to see.”

“And on some level, that’s what they want for Millicent.” Sangfroid felt a little more sober. “A gentleman admirer, maybe an engagement, and a suitable marriage.”

“Well, yes. They are all despairing spinsters with barely a farthing or good feature between them. I’m sure they only attend Sophia’s ludicrous evenings for the decent supper Millicent lays on for them. She is the blue-eyed baby to them, a sort of favoured niece, if you like. She is wealthy and wise, and all she needs is a good husband to be truly complete, and that’s what the little ladies want to see.”

“Sophia’s hardly a little lady.” This was cruel, but Sangfroid held her fully responsible for this evening’s fracas. To have arrived in the Aberly house with only Millicent and Hubert present would have been a totally different and much more pleasant experience.

Hubert sighed. “Sophia has her own cross to bear. Don’t be too harsh on her. Over the years since our betrothal, she has taken up a role in our little family circle. She is the speck of sand in our well-oiled cogs, and sometimes it is good to feel a mild hesitancy in the streamlined running of things. It makes one appreciate the machinery better when it does run right.”

Sangfroid had never heard such a “well-oiled” criticism, but stayed silent. Sophia was Hubert’s intended, even if he was having an extra-curricular romance with a Colossal space squid. Who was Sangfroid to pee on the pompa? Hubert and Millicent had so far offered her nothing but friendship and security in this weird world. She would let it ride for a while and see what developed. After all, there could be worse things than playing a dragoon major from the Prussias or the Urals or wherever, for Millicent’s lady friends. They had been a little swoony around her. Sangfroid liked that.

Hubert stopped dead in the street, so that Sangfroid bumped into him almost bowling him over. He recovered himself and looked up to the stars pushing through the overcast sky above. They were small tinny specks. “How disappointing they look from here once you have travelled among them. You are so lucky Sangfroid, to be born when and where you were, in whatever timeline that was.”

“The stars may be mysterious to you, but your world is just as strange to me. I mean, these Urals where I’m supposed to come from. What are they?”

“Oh, just a wild, expansive place where nothing ever happens. But it sounds exotic enough to explain you away. I do think Millicent was quite clever there. And that brings me to my original question. I haven’t forgotten, you know. Mind like a steel trap.” Hubert went to tap his temple with a forefinger but poked himself in the eye instead. “What are your intentions towards my sister?” He drew up to his fullest, slightly lopsided, height.

“Is this your street?” Sangfroid easily steered the conversation to safer waters. She didn’t want to talk about her “intentions.” As far as she was concerned, she had none. She barely knew the woman who had landed her in this insane situation, even if her brother spoke with assurance of a possible connection. The idea of a future with Millicent left an unexpected bubble of warmth in the pit of her stomach, however. A bubble that expanded every time she saw Millicent or spoke to her or thought about her. It made her blood heat and her step lighter, but then again, that could just as easily be the brandy. Either way, she wasn’t prepared to think about it anymore than that. She loved Millicent, but it was her business. A business that scared her blind.

“So it is! This is my street!” Hubert said in wonder and wobbled around a corner, and Sangfroid followed. “Number five, I think.”

A row of hansom cabs lined up outside number five. The horses stirred impatiently in their traces, and the drivers huddled on the pavement smoking and talking with each other. Bemused by the gathering, Sangfroid and Hubert mounted the steps to number five Christie Mews. Before they reached the top step, the door was flung open and a fretful Edna greeted them. “Oh sir, am I glad to see you.”

“Why, whatever’s wrong, Edna?” Hubert dumped his overcoat into her waiting arms and weaved across the hall towards his laboratory. Sangfroid set her top hat on Edna’s head and gave her a wink that made her jump.

“It’s the ladies, sir. They won’t go home until they meet Miss Millicent’s gentleman again. All their carriages are waiting for them, but no one will be the first to leave. And Cook is fed up making tea and cake and has gone to bed.” She was close to tears.

“But the ladies have already met Major Sangfroid,” Hubert said, turning a little too sharply towards the parlour and almost unbalancing. The tintinnabulation of ladies voices could be heard from behind the great mahogany doors.

“More of ’em came afterwards, sir. Many more. They won’t go because the others have already met the major, and now the rest want to meet ’im, too.” Edna was wringing her hands.

“Don’t worry, Edna. We’ll sort it out.” Sangfroid felt sympathy for the girl though she couldn’t understand why she was in such a fret. It was only ladies after all. Nosy, little, spinstery ladies. She’d give them something to talk about!