Page 10 of Heart of Iron
No.Not prey.She took a deep shuddering breath.Prey didn’t fight back; they didn’t find a way in which they could make a difference, and that’s what she was doing.
“Take my advice,” Adele continued.“I saw the look on Colchester’s face.You need protection.Your guardian isn’t enough—he’s not even here, is he?If I were you, I would find some old decrepit lord with enough power to stand up to Colchester and beguile him into taking you as his thrall.”
“That shouldn’t be the only option I have.”
“Unfortunately, for girls like you and me, there isn’t any choice.The sooner you open your eyes to the world you truly live in, the better.Otherwise you’re nothing but a fool—and fools don’t survive very long here.”
***
“What’s wrong with you this morning?”
Lena opened her eyes, her head resting against the carriage’s window.Her companion, Mrs.Wade, peered at her over the top of her crochet.There was no sign of the attack of the megrims that had plagued her last night, keeping her from Lord Macy’s ball.
Rubbing at her aching eyes, Lena sat up.“Nothing.I didn’t sleep very well last night, is all.”
“Perhaps we should return to Waverly Place.”Concern rounded Mrs.Wade’s eyes.“You could do with some more rest.”
Lena’s eyes narrowed.“Your motivations are utterly transparent.”Leaning forward, she peered through the velvet curtains of the steam carriage’s window, her fingers tapping on the box in her hand.She hadn’t dared let it out of her sight.
Mrs.Wade had the good grace to blush.She had her own feelings on what constituted as appropriate recreational pursuits for ladies.Designing clockwork toys was not one of them.“I’m simply concerned about your reputation.If anyone saw us at thatshop…”
“Who would see us here?And if they did, I’m only purchasing a new clock.”
The steam carriage rattled to a halt outside Mandeville’s Clockwork Emporium.Her eye skipped over the dirty ragamuffins playing tumbler in the alleys and the coal lasses slipping through the crowd with their pails balanced on their shoulders.She’d seen all too much of it during her sojourn in the rookeries of Whitechapel, after her father’s death.Indeed, that had oncebeenher, before Mr.Mandeville took her on as his apprentice.
Sympathy choked her.No matter the dangers of her own life at court, they were nothing to what the coal lasses risked, walking the streets unprotected.At least in society she would never be left to die bleeding in the gutters, her life worthless to the blue bloods.Her position saw to that.She was potential prey—but she was also protected prey.
The door opened and a footman appeared.“Miss.”
“Thank you, Henry.”Lena accepted his hand and stepped down onto the cobbles.Mr.Mandeville saw her coming and opened the door for her.With the curled ends of his waxed moustache, the pair of magnifying glassicals perched upon his windswept gray hair, and a distinct patchwork quality to his waistcoat, he would never be received within the great houses.Yet he was one of the finest clockmakers she’d ever seen.
And so much more.
He’d also been her savior, dragging her out of the gutters—when she’dbeenthat bleeding, discarded coal lass—and tending her in his shop.Offering her respectable work.Then later, giving her some sense of hope when she had first begun to realize that her life at court wasn’t the safe world she’d been searching for.
She could remember only too well the day she’d returned for her cloak and overheard him discussing secrets that could get a man hanged.The shock had nearly floored her.Mr.Mandeville, a humanist?She’d kept the secret to herself for days, tossing and turning at night as questions started to gnaw at her.Excitement.Finally she’d confronted him and demanded to join the cause.
“Miss Todd,” Mr.Mandeville greeted, though he’d once called her “Lena” and threatened to rap her knuckles if she knocked over any of his clocks.
“Mr.Mandeville,” she replied, proffering the box.“You’re looking well.The summer air must be agreeing with you.”
“Is this it?”His eyes lit up as he saw the box.
A warm spark of something sinfully proud reared itself in her chest.There were very few things she’d ever been good at.“It is,” she breathed.“Oh, you should see it.It works exactly as I’d planned.”
“May I?”
At her nod, he ushered her toward the counter.The walls seemed to encroach the farther one went into the shop due to dozens of hanging, ticking clocks that loomed off the plaster.As his apprentice, Lena had grown used to the sight of them.Mrs.Wade, however, hovered near the windows, glaring at the swinging pendulums from the safe depths of her bonnet.
Mr.Mandeville placed the box on the counter and slid a glance toward Mrs.Wade.“Old Dragon-Breath is still in the dark?”
“She thinks I’ve come to see if you’ve any orders for me.”The work was steady enough to keep her occupied, though she had to do so under her brother’s name.A Charlie Todd original clockwork toy went for a rather generous price.They weren’t always for children either, though Lena took the most pleasure from those commissions.
“Hmm.”Mandeville opened the box and slid his long fingers under the foot-high clockwork.He lifted it reverently and set it on the counter.“Oh, my.Oh, Lena, this is your finest work.He’s utterly magnificent.Wherever did you come by the inspiration for such a thing?I assume it walks?”
Steel overlapping plates drew the eye, burnished to a polished gleam.The clockwork sculpture was a man, a burly figure carved from iron sheeting and seething with an interior of springs and coils.It stood on a metal plate, with a windup key at the back.Heat crept into her cheeks.The last thing she could admit was her inspiration.She’d never before dared take this image from the sheets of paper she sketched upon to work in iron sheeting.“It does more than that.Here, let me show you.”
The key grew tighter and tighter to turn.The figure trembled, his rough-hewn face jerking almost with violence.Howapt, she thought, then let the key go.
