Saturday, December 15 , 2018 

It’s Straightlaced Saturday!  Welcome aboard the #SteamPunk train.  Our destination is the northern Pacific coast of the USA, during the Victorian Era.  We’re headed for another episode of Copper, the Alchemist, and the Woman in Trousers.

Back in 2015, the random “three things” for this chapter were provided by John W. Howell at Fiction Favorites.  As some of you might remember, this serial was originally a culinary mystery.  John sent some delicious things to drive the episode.  Consider yourselves warned that reading may give you the munchies. 

Since I know you have a lot of other things to do on the weekend, I’ve divided this rather long chapter.  The third thing will play out on Hidebound Hump Day.

Previously with Copper, the Alchemist, and the Woman in Trousers

Chapter 21.  The alchemist had been using his harmonic tuner on a map, trying to divine the destination of that message-carrying raven (Chapter 18).

When Copper unexpectedly put the second harmonic tuner on the map, there was an accident of alchemy that reached all the way to the hot spring and the washing machine…

Cornelis held out his harmonic tuner.  A faint current of green streamed from the tuner to the washing machine.  It wobbled, gurgled, and creaked.  The wringer started to turn again, the magic pulling the tablecloth on through as we watched.

Alchemically inscribed phosphorescent lettering appeared on the tablecloth.  The Dutchman shined the light on the cloth as it finished rolling from the mangle.  In large glowing green script I read the word aloud, 

“Daddy.”

All aboard!

Copper, the Alchemist, and the Woman in Trousers

22.1 — Pistachio, Porcini

My first thought wasn’t exactly a thought.  All cogitation was clogged in a bottleneck of befuddled ideas.  The first thought that got through the blockage was relief that Copper was up at the pavilion.  It would be awful if the supernaturally printed word, Daddy, got her hopes up for no good reason.

At that point, I wasn’t feeling too optimistic myself, and to be honest, I was losing my sense of trust.  So, that single, magically written word brought out all my suppressed concerns. 

As if it wasn’t bad enough that I experienced occasional twinges of distrust for Ignatius Belle (who turned out to be Copper’s half-brother), it also bothered me that I had begun having doubts about Copper’s father, Calvin Hixon. (Revealed in Chapter 20.)

Granted, if Hixon was abducted, he probably had no chance to leave a warning or a reason.  What if he left of his own accord?  The notion was so awful.  Had he willingly left his daughter with no explanation, and worse left the child on her own?

Other than his unfortunate money situation, Calvin Hixon appeared to be utterly brilliant.  Could the circumstances be more complicated than an abduction?  Did Hixon stand to somehow see a financial gain from the situation?  Could he be involved in his own disappearance?  

Oh surely not, I told myself.  I’m over-analyzing things.

Most often the simplest answers are the correct ones.  But was running away as simple as being abducted…?  Had Calvin Hixon suddenly run away from his adversaries, perhaps thinking he would lead them away from his daughter, thereby keeping her safe? 

I’m still over-analyzing, I admonished myself.

“Felicity,” I heard my name and realized that Cornelis had called it more than once while I pondered the unpleasant thoughts about Calvin Hixon.

“Do step back,” the alchemist told me.  “Something unexpected might happen,” he said as he reached into that supernatural void through which he sometimes fetched things.

“Unexpected?” I commented sardonically, knowing how often Cornelis’ tricks tended to go awry.

To my surprise he produced the long map we had been looking at on the terrace.  The area on which he had used the harmonic tuner still gave off a greenish glow.  However, the phosphorescent script “Daddy” on the table cloth had begun to dim.  Cornelis noticed the diminished glow with a frown.  Hurriedly he placed the map atop the cloth.

The Dutchman held up the harmonic tuner and gave it one sharp clear ring. 

The tiny ping of a sound reverberated and grew.  I felt the vibration at the base of my spine.  I could feel the sound spreading outward all around us.  In the distance the big gong in front of the pavilion gave a mighty boom, the volume of which was magically transported into our midst.  I put my hands over my ears, involuntarily squeezing my eyes shut.

Cautiously, I opened one eye.  The map was copied onto the tablecloth.  At first the drawings of topography overlaid the word “Daddy,” but then the script blazed through the map.  The word shone with eye-searing chartreuse light, before stabilizing and dimming to a flat pistachio green. 

Did it mark the location of Copper’s father?

***

I don’t know if it was a meteorological effect or if it was residual magic from the previous night, but when I got up the next morning, the sky above Alastair Wong’s home blazed with yellow clouds at sunrise.  

No wonder they called it the Golden Pavilion, I thought.

Cornelis said he wanted to get an early start, but judging by the activity of the household staff, I suspected they were always up at that hour.  As I admired the sunrise, the alchemist drove up in the road locomotive.

It didn’t seem like there could be enough room, but Cornelis, Copper, Alastair, and I all managed to get on the road locomotive. 

To my surprise, Victoria, who was so taken with Copper, insisted on coming along.  I wouldn’t have thought one more person, not even a tiny woman like Victoria, could fit on the little steam engine… and she carried a large picnic basket too.  Yet somehow the tiny woman and the big basket managed to fit. 

When I saw the hint of a green aura surrounding the Dutchman, I understood how so many of us managed to get onboard.  One of his tricks of alchemy had made room for everyone.

We would part company with Alastair and Victoria when we reached the Pacific Ocean.  Wong would take the road locomotive back to his pavilion estate for safekeeping, while Copper, the alchemist, and I continued our journey.

I looked a question at the basket Victoria carried.  The night before, all the noise and vibrations from the harmonic tuners had given me a headache — and I still had it.  So I was probably frowning fiercely.  Victoria looked a bit uneasy.

“It will be past time for a meal before we reach the ocean.  Copper is a growing girl and must eat,” the tiny woman said with a sharp nod that would have settled any row. 

I tried to reign in my smile at her feistiness, because I truly did take her seriously.

“Besides,” she turned and spoke to Cornelis in a flirtatious tone that took me completely by surprise.  “You will love what I’ve done with the porcini mushrooms you mentioned earlier,” she added, and the Dutchman’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“Ah yes,” the Dutchman sighed.  “Porcini are God’s great gift to humanity, a mushroom delicate enough to flavor a sauce, yet vigorous enough to stand up to a grilled steak.”

Really…, I thought.  Should he encourage the tiny woman by flirting?  And Could Victoria actually be attracted to Cornelis?  The idea seemed not merely imaginative and impractical, but just plain impossible.  I scratched my earlobe as the idea took root.  Then I had the wicked thought that I’d like to see an argument between Victoria and Cornelis.  The Dutchman would surely get his comeuppance.

“What are you smirking about?” Cornelis asked me quietly.

“Oh?  Did I seem to smirk?  It was just a bit of indigestion,” I said with no attempt to hide my expression.

Victoria held tightly to Copper’s hand as the steam engine barreled toward the ocean.  The tiny woman’s eyes were huge with astonishment for the unnatural speed at which we traveled.  However, it was clear that she possessed a fierce determination.  She would not have gone back if the chance was offered.

***

***

Victorian Vernacular

Half-rats:  Partially intoxicated.

Hanging:  Excellent, outstanding.  “Hanging new tie there, old man!”

Hawkshaw:  A detective.

Holy Water:  Said when one intensely hates someone or something.  “He loves him as the Devil likes holy water.”

Hoosegow:  Prison.

***

We’ll finish up the three random things supplied by John W. Howell on Wednesday for Hidebound Hump Day.  Come back to learn where Penne Pasta takes our trio.

I’ll be looking for you at the station on Wednesday.  

Mega hugs! 

***

Now some shameless self-promotion.

Universal link to my Amazon Author Page

USA:  Atonement in Bloom

Amazon UK

USA:  The Glowing Pigs, Snort Stories of Atonement, Tennessee

Amazon UK

USA:  Atonement, Tennessee

(E-book still on sale at 99¢ )

Amazon UK

USA:  Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I

Amazon UK

USA:  The Three Things Serial Story: A Little 1920s Story Kindle 

Amazon UK

 

This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 and 2018 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

 

Wednesday, December 12 , 2018 

Welcome one and all to another Hidebound Hump Day!  Find your seat on the #SteamPunk train.  We’re headed for another episode of Copper, the Alchemist, and the Woman in Trousers.

Did I mangle the mangle?

English is an amazing language.  It’s amazing because with words that have the same spelling as another word but have a different sound and a different meaning… and then words that have the same sound as another word but are spelled differently and have a different meaning… Well, it’s a wonder we can communicate with one another at all.

Then we added to the chaos when words came to mean different things depending on the country in which you live…  but of course, that confusion can sometimes be entertaining!

Back in 2015, the “three things” for this episode were provided by Hugh Roberts at Hugh’s Views & News.  One of his “random things” (Mangle) sent me to do my research — but that’s the fun part.  Yes, I know.  I’m strange that way about enjoying research.

Hugh writes incredibly imaginative short stories.  He also blogs and tells stories about “everyday life,” which of course are often more interesting than any fiction.  I hope you’ll click over to visit and get to know Hugh. 

Apparently I did mangle the mangle.

Serials really do make for a great “beta read.” I ended up revising this chapter and re-posting because a few people weren’t able to keep up with the magical shenanigans at the end.  Or maybe I should have left it alone…  Maybe when I changed it I belabored the points too much, when some people really just weren’t paying attention.  This will be a chapter for me to carefully consider when I book-ize this story.  I’ll show you my revisions in bold and you can decide for yourself.

Previously with Copper, the Alchemist, and the Woman in Trousers

Chapter 20.  Then I suddenly saw what had been there all along.  A resemblance.  Copper’s face was full with youth, while Ignatius had masculine angles, but their features were very much alike.

“They’re related,” I said amazed.  “And closely I’ll wager…?”

“I went to Belle’s office at the Inn, and to his bedroom.  Based on letters Ignatius kept, he is the illegitimate son of Calvin Hixon,” Corenlis revealed.

“So Ignatius is Copper’s half-brother?  Why would she distrust him so?” I thought aloud.

All aboard!

Copper, the Alchemist, and the Woman in Trousers

21 — Moustache Cup, Apricot Charlotte, Mangle

 

The tiny woman, who had shown me to my room when we arrived at the beautiful family estate of Alastair Wong, appeared with a coffee and tea tray.  She had told me she was named Victoria, after the Queen.  She motioned more than asked if I would like more coffee.  Victoria seemed rather excited when she turned to the Dutchman.  At first I thought it was simply because of Mr. Wong’s admiration for the alchemist.  However, it turned out there was a little more to her enthusiasm than that.

“Sir, mayhap you like this cup?” Victoria suggested to Cornelis as she lowered the tray to our table.

Smiling brightly she picked up a teacup with the same pattern as the rest of the dishes, but it was of a slightly different shape.  It must have been specially made to match the rest of the china, and she was obviously both proud of the cup and delighted to have the chance to offer it to a guest.  Inside the cup was a semicircular ledge.  The ledge had a half moon-shaped opening to allow the passage of liquids and to serve as a guard to keep a mustache dry. 

“Look Cornelis!  Why it’s a mustache cup,” I exclaimed.

Cornelis Drebbel had a mustache and a short pointed beard, and bushy blonde eyebrows.  When he was in a playful mood, or a sarcastic mood, he wriggled those eyebrows.

Where Sheriff Bullard, back in Copper’s home town, had a very thick mustache — as was the fashion, Cornelis wore his neatly trimmed.  While Bullard would have desperately needed the special cup, it was not as much of an issue for the Dutchman.  However, I gave him a little nudge with my elbow when it looked like he might decline the cup.  With another look at the tiny woman, he seemed to realize that it was important to her.

So Cornelis, bushy brows wriggling flirtatiously, made over the cup and smiled when Victoria filled it with coffee.  The woman was obviously overjoyed to have someone use the cup.  I thought she must have put a lot of effort into having it made.

A soft chuckle caused me to turn.  Our host, Alastair Wong had come back downstairs.  He carried a large roll of paper.

“I thought you were going to turn in early, my friend,” Cornelis told him.

The tiny woman turned at the sound of Alastair’s voice.  She was still all smiles. 

“I feared that tonight no one would eat dessert — and it turned out so well.  It would have been a shame that you did not get to enjoy it,” Victoria said as she hurried away, presumably to get the dessert.

I gasped when I saw what she brought.  Sticky sweet glazed apricots peeped out from a golden brown cinnamon sugar crust, dusted with white powdered sugar.  When I asked what it was called, she told me proudly that it was an apricot Charlotte.  It was irresistible, so everyone had at least a bite before going back to the reason why Alastair had come back downstairs. 

“So did you find a second wind, as they call it?” Cornelis asked.

“It was my intention to retire early,” Wong admitted ruefully.  “However, sleep eluded me.  I couldn’t stop thinking about the raven you told me about — the one that tried to carry a message about your whereabouts.  I kept wondering where it might have been going.  When I realized you were still up, I thought it might be helpful to look at a good, detailed map,” he added and motioned for us to move to a long table where he unrolled the map.

“This is a beautiful work of cartography,” I admired the map, which covered part of California, Oregon, Washington, and southern British Columbia.

“We are here,” Alastair said pointing to a golden dot on the map.  “And I expect you were approximately… here when you were spotted?” he asked, pointing to another location and Cornelis nodded.  “So we know the bird was headed north of that area,” Alastair said motioning in a large circle.

“That covers a lot of ground,” I said in a dejected tone.

“Ah!  Perhaps we can be at least a little more precise,” Cornelis offered.

The alchemist reached into his coat and produced the device that looked like an intricately worked silver bell.  Wong’s eyes widened in obvious recognition.

“The harmonic tuner!” Alastair exclaimed interestedly.  “My grandfather told tales of its magic!  But wait.  It is not going to cause the large gong to sound again is it?  The hour is late, and I wouldn’t want to disturb the household.”

“Neither would I, my friend.  This time the tuner will have a different purpose,” Cornelis said, but I knew how often his tricks didn’t go as planned.

A subtle green aura emanated from the alchemist, alerting me that he was doing one of his tricks.  He turned the harmonic tuner onto its side and rolled it around on the map in the area Wong indicated.

“Where were you going, raven?” the alchemist murmured the question, making it part of the magic he worked.

At his words, the topography on that part of the map blurred and became three dimensional.  Then a part of that area took on a phosphorescent glow.

Although mesmerized by the magical transformation of the map, I was vaguely aware of faintly padding footsteps.  I turned to see Copper, wearing a dressing gown and slippers.  She clutched something wrapped in a scarf to her chest.

“Miss Copper,” Alastair Wong addressed her in a playful tone that was likely meant to distract her from what we were doing.  “You needn’t have come down here,” he told the girl and then turned to Cornelis and me somewhat awkwardly.

“I suggested Copper go back to bed when she saw me in the hallway.  I apologize that I made a bit of noise, and she got up to see what the bother was.  Copper I hope I didn’t frighten you, in a strange place, trying to sleep,” Wong told her.  “I said that I was bringing boring grownup things to show you,” he said to us.

The girl must have begun to worry that she was about to get into trouble for leaving her room at so late an hour.  She hadn’t even noticed the phosphorescent glow that meant Cornelis worked his alchemy on the map, but then again, Alastair may have blocked her view.

“Yes, but I had a favorite thing to show you too!” Copper told him, clearly wanting to participate.  “Because you’ve been so nice.  This is my favorite thing that Daddy gave me.”

Suddenly I realized that Copper held her cherished “mystic monkeys” bell, which her father had given her.  It was an ornate bell with detailed carvings of the fabled three mystic apes — see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil. 

It was also a harmonic tuner.  Yes, a magical implement with powers similar to the tuner Cornelis was using at that very moment.  The night we ran from the Hixon estate, the two harmonic tuners being in close proximity had a profound effect.  The magic the alchemist worked that night went out of control when the other harmonic tuner’s influence became involved.

I glanced at Cornelis for his reaction.  The alchemist was so focused on his trick with the map that I wasn’t sure he had even noticed Copper’s entrance.  He was completely absorbed in his work. 

“What will we find here?” he muttered over the map as he rolled his harmonic tuner across the glowing area, asking the alchemy to show him what or who was in the area of the map that his harmonic tuner touched.

“Here it is,” Copper said proudly, and before I could shout a warning, she unceremoniously plopped the second tuner right onto the map on which the alchemist worked his trick.

Once again, the inadvertent influence of the second harmonic tuner had an unpredictable effect on the magic Cornelis was working.  The existing harmonic sound from the Dutchman’s tuner quadrupled.  A varicolored aura made a rainbow around the bells and the map.  The sound seemed to vibrate through the entire world.  Then I felt it inside my throat, and just as before, I couldn’t help wondering if my voice would take on that dual harmonic sound when I spoke.

Alastair must have felt the bizarre sensation as well.  He put his hand to his throat.  The tiny woman dropped her tray to the paved terrace.  Fine china shattered, the sharp noise blending with the harmonic sound.

As I said, the sound seemed to vibrate throughout the entire world.  The magic reached far and wide.  In the distance I heard noises that I couldn’t quite define.  It reminded me of the sound of men scuffling, but it sounded heavier than that.  Then I heard a crash from that area, and I knew it had to be the work of the alchemy gone awry.  The din was followed by clacking and clanging sounds.  The louder noises were enough for me to know the commotion came from the hot spring.  The magic had traveled all the way down there.

Everyone turned at once, ready to race toward the sounds and the runaway magic.  Thankfully I had the presence of mind to tell Copper to stay there.  Even better, with a wise wink the tiny woman took the girl’s hand and led her to the kitchen with the promise of a serving of the apricot Charlotte.  I heaved a sigh of relief and followed Cornelis and Alastair toward the disturbance.

When we reached the hot spring I saw that the door to one of the small gold-painted buildings was off its hinges.  Under the influence of the magic, the wayward alchemically affected the washing machine washing machine had somehow bumped and thumped its way out of the storage building.  It looked as though it had clambered around until it was caught between two maple trees.  Every few seconds it gave a futile bump to the trees.

“There’s something in the mangle,” Cornelis muttered, and I was sure that was also the magic at work.

“What’s that you say?  Oh yes, the mangle.  Here they call that part the wringer,” Alastair said absently as he looked in astonishment at the rogue washing machine and the damage it had done.

When the washing machine made its magical escape from the storage building, the washtub had been dragged along by the machine, halfway to the spring.  I remembered the young man putting a tablecloth in the tub to soak.  I suspected that was what hung from the mangle, or wringer — the magic having pulled the cloth into the wringer.  When I cautiously walked over to the still grumbling machine, I found that I was right.

Cornelis held out his harmonic tuner.  A faint magical current of green streamed from the tuner to the washing machine.  That had another effect on the washing machine.  It wobbled, gurgled, and creaked.  The mangle started to supernaturally turn again, pulling the tablecloth on through as we watched.

“All that hubbub and the cloth is not clean,” Alastair said, surprising me with his acerbic wit.

Of course, he had no concern about whether the table cloth was clean.  Rather, he jokingly referred to something he saw, something the enchantment had put onto the cloth.

He was correct, there was something on the tablecloth, but it wasn’t simply dirty.  It looked like writing — phosphorescent writing. 

Cornelis flicked the tuner with his fingernail, causing a faint ting sound and then the tuner cast a bright light like a torch.  The Dutchman shined the light on the cloth as it finished rolling from the mangle. 

A word had been written by the rogue magic that resulted when Copper accidentally added a second harmonic tuner to the magic worked by the alchemist.  It wasn’t something anyone would want to wash away, because it was never part of the laundry.  As I said, that was only Alastair’s wit, a joke.  It was a magically provided clue, resulting from the alchemist’s spell.

In large glowing green script I read the word aloud. 

“Daddy.” 

***

Real World Notes

Moustache Cups.  Harvey Adams invented mustache cups in the 1800s.  Adams devised a mustache guard to prevent embarrassing accidents.  Now, I mean things more humiliating than a damp ‘stache.  In the Victorian Era, many men put a lot of effort into their impressive moustaches.  They men waxed or even dyed their moustaches to keep them groomed and curled and looking fashionable.  Also, they drank tea.  That tended to cause the wax to melt, and dye would run.  It was quite embarrassing to the gentlemen.

***

Another “accident of alchemy,” yet we can’t really blame Cornelis.  How could he have expected Copper to interrupt — and with the other harmonic tuner?  Maybe this time it’s a happy accident.  Could the word “Daddy” magically written on the table cloth provide a clue to the whereabouts of Copper’s missing father?

Please come back to the station this weekend.  I’m bringing back Straightlaced Saturdays for the next chapter.  That set of three random things were from John W. Howell.  Guess what “Pistachio, Penne Pasta, and Porcini” will cause.

I’ll be looking for you at the station this weekend.  

Hugs! 

***

Now some shameless self-promotion.

Universal link to my Amazon Author Page

USA:  Atonement in Bloom

Amazon UK

USA:  The Glowing Pigs, Snort Stories of Atonement, Tennessee

Amazon UK

USA:  Atonement, Tennessee

(E-book still on sale at 99¢ )

Amazon UK

USA:  Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I

Amazon UK

USA:  The Three Things Serial Story: A Little 1920s Story Kindle 

Amazon UK

 

This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 and 2018 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

 

Wednesday, December 5, 2018 

Welcome back to Hidebound Hump Day.  Find your seat on the #SteamPunk train.  We’re headed for another episode of Copper, the Alchemist, and the Woman in Trousers. 

Many have been enjoying the imaginative art from Eugene Ivanov.  I found several available as public domain images.  However, this is the last one I have.  It’s been a pleasure to shine a spotlight on his wonderful artwork.  This one is especially appropriate to the story.  That’s because in the 1600s, the real-life Cornelis Drebbel invented the first navigable submarine!

For weeks I’ve been dropping subtle hints about the character Ignatius Belle.  This episode will reveal something about the handsome innkeeper.  But will it add transparency to the tale or will it thicken the plot?  Will it be a reason to trust him?  You’ll have to decide for yourself, because the steam locomotive has reached the platform. 

(This episode is somewhat longer than usual.  You might want to look for a spot to mark your place if you’re pressed for time.  I wouldn’t want you to miss the important revelation.  Wink! )

Previously with Copper, the Alchemist, and the Woman in Trousers

Chapter 19.  Previously the Alchemist intercepted a raven carrying a spy’s message about our trio.  Then new/old character Alastair Wong found his way into the story.  Finally we learned the surname of “the Woman in Trousers.”  What will the “things” bring us next?  Let’s find out.

All aboard!

Copper, the Alchemist, and the Woman in Trousers

20 — High Button Boots, Washtub, Coffee

I stood on the banks of the crystalline lake and looked at the building in the golden light of evening, its beauty nearly took my breath away.

I explored the grounds of the replica of the Temple of the Golden Pavilion, which Alastair Wong called home.  At first it seemed strange that anyone would build a copy of a Buddhist temple in an out of the way corner of the Pacific coast.  However, for that moment in time, it felt like everything about the place was perfect.

Copper ran down a manicured path that wound through Japanese maples.  Their crimson leaves were a darker shade than the new penny color of her hair.  She wore a yellow frock and high button boots.  I wondered at her change of dress, because I didn’t think those clothes had been in the big flowered carpet bag she packed before we left the Hixon estate on that frightful night.

“Felicity, Felicity!” Copper cried.

Having learned my real name, Felicity Deringer, it was as if Copper couldn’t say it often enough.

“You look fetching in that yellow,” I commented as she skidded to a stop beside me.  “I don’t remember that dress.”

Copper twirled, making the full skirt swing out to a circle.  Apparently she thought that was answer enough.

A tiny woman dressed in a beautiful kimono had showed Copper and me to the rooms that would be ours during our visit.  Copper was fascinated with the woman and she in turn seemed quite taken with the girl.  Perhaps the woman gave her the frock.

“Cornelis asked me to find you,” Copper told me.  “He says it’s time to get dressed for dinner.” 

I still wore the travel stained duster and trousers in which I’d arrived.  In my room I found a brush and used it to clean my clothes as much as I could.  However, I didn’t feel presentable enough for a dinner table… certainly not for the elegant affair I expected Alastair Wong would want to have in honor of Cornelis Drebbel.  Wong seemed to almost idolize the alchemist.  I sighed and followed Copper on the uphill path toward the house.

Copper led me on a circuitous route.  It certainly didn’t lead directly back to the house, but I had no objection to wandering a bit.  Our path crossed another paved walkway and the breeze brought me a burst of humidity and an unexpected scent.  For a moment I thought it was lavender, though I had not seen any growing on the grounds.  Then I recognized it for detergent scented with lavender.

“Do you smell that?” I commented, thinking out loud as I followed my nose down the new path. (If you want to know more about Victorian laundry…)

Ahead I saw a row of small but well-kept outbuildings.  They were designed in a similar way to the main house, and were painted a golden yellow.  Moving a few steps closer I saw a hot spring and the steaming pool of water it fed.

An older woman and a young man rolled a washing machine away from the hot spring and into one of the little buildings, apparently finished with their laundry chore.  They had been making good use of the natural water feature.

The young man ran back outside and hurriedly picked up a washtub.  I heard the woman tell him to put the tablecloth in it to soak.  He managed the task in a couple of quick motions.  Then he closed the door to the storage building and ran up the path to catch up with the woman.  I noted she was remarkably spry for her years.

I was tempted to stop and soak my feet in the steaming pool of water.  Actually, a bath in it would have been even better.  Just as I had the thought, I realized that the other two outbuildings might be changing rooms for precisely that purpose.  I expected they were filled with towels and bathing accessories.

Cornelis appeared with a pop sound.

“I might have known you’d find this place,” he commented drolly.  “You’d best come back and change.  We don’t want to offend our host by being late for dinner.  There’s certainly no time for a leisurely bath in a hot spring,” he chided me as if he knew I had been thinking of doing exactly that.

The Dutchman’s tone was mildly annoying to me.  The fact of the matter was he probably meant to irritate me.

“Cornelis, don’t you think I should make an excuse and skip dinner.  I could claim to have the vapors,” I suggested reasonably.

“Don’t be absurd!” the alchemist said indignantly.

“But look at me!” I insisted, spreading my arms to show my rumpled dirty clothes.

Cornelis Drebbel made a little tut-tut noise and shook his head, looking put upon. 

“Well you don’t think I meant you to wear that do you?” he asked drolly, with a wave of his hand toward my grubby attire.  “That’s why you need to hurry back and change.  Honestly… How you underestimate me,” he added with a pout.  Then with a sharp pop he disappeared.

***

An involuntary gasp escaped my lips. 

“It’s absolutely exquisite!” I said in awe as I picked up the gown.

It was navy blue velvet.  The skirt was heavily embroidered in paisley designs of gold, lavender, and rose, as were the three tiers of the bustle.  A smaller scale of the same pattern was displayed around broad cuffs and a deep neckline.

“Cornelis, where did you…  How did you…”

I sputtered to the alchemist’s delight.  He loved it when he managed to render me speechless.

“Don’t worry,” he said.  “I found it in one of the forgotten crates back at the abandoned church compound.  I popped back to get the crate that was addressed to Alastair,” he explained and I knew he meant his trick of popping or disappearing.

“You moved the entire crate!” I exclaimed.  “It was rather large,” I spoke in concern.

The Dutchman waved away my comment. 

“It’s not as though I carried it on my back.  Besides, all the heavenly bodies were aligned in a most helpful way,” he informed me.

“Oh,” I said, not understanding a whit.

Suddenly I remembered the love letters we saw in Wong’s open crate.  They mentioned a woman named Phanny.  However, I had not seen a woman at the estate who was likely to be her.  I wondered what had happened to that romance.  I supposed it was not a particularly happy ending if he was there and she was not.

At dinner I learned enough to gather my own conclusions.  Mind you I didn’t come right out and ask.  I do have a few social graces despite my rebellious nature.  Civility and manners are important.  I just can’t abide corsets and bustles.  Even if I did wear a bustle with the lovely embroidered velvet gown…  Didn’t I did mention that I have a weakness for pretty things?  Even so, nothing was going to make me wear a corset.

However, I digress.  Alastair Wong was a fascinating man.  It was amusing to me that he had a British accent as he sat at the table in a traditional kimono.  It bore what I assumed was his family crest — a white lion.  As it turned out, Wong was born in England.  However, he entertained us with lively stories of his visit to Hong Kong, from whence his family originally came.

“I was surprised to find you back on this coast.  I thought you were in Savannah, on the Atlantic coast,” Cornelis commented casually, and a frown flitted across Alastair’s face.  “Oh my.  Don’t tell me heartache drove you away,” the Dutchman said.

I blushed, feeling Cornelis shouldn’t have brought up such a thing.  I pretended to give my full attention to the beautiful plate in front of me.  We were served an amazing five course meal.

Alastair sighed exaggeratedly, making fun of himself.  He waved it away as if it was nothing, but a deep sadness was reflected in his dark eyes.

“I did come here for a much needed change of scene,” he said, but Cornelis raised a skeptical eyebrow.  “And yes, for a bit of healing.  You’ll remember that I have family here and in San Francisco.  My branch of the family tree adventured to the Atlantic coast.  I suppose I might return there eventually,” he murmured and Cornelis nodded.

“Yes, I fell in love.  It is well accepted for a man to be many years older than his bride, and not criticized.  She was young, this I knew.  However, she had been orphaned.  I did not know at first that a few years before I met her, she had lied about her age to avoid being institutionalized,” Alastair told Cornelis.

Copper gasped.  Our host had just brought up her greatest fear — the orphanage.

“Do you mean they would have put her in an orphanage?” she confirmed, as our host nodded.

“Of course, she was of legal age by the time we fell in love.  Albeit that is still a very young age,” Alastair continued.  “Even at that, she was several years younger than I thought.  But as it turned out, I wasn’t the one who had a problem with it.  I would move heaven and earth for Phanny. Regardless of the wealth and comfort I could offer her, Miss Phanny is a woman with her own mind.  She doesn’t tend to be one who is burdened by the conventions of society, much as I expect you feel,” he said turning to me.

I couldn’t help smiling.  I thought I would like to meet the young Miss Phanny.“So I was surprised and confused that our age difference bothered her so much,” he continued.  “I do have a large extended family in Savannah.  Perhaps that contributed to her discomfort.  Matriarchs can be rather intimidating, particularly to a young woman who is not used to a large family.”

“No doubt,” Cornelis said in a sardonic tone.

I stuck out my foot to kick him under the table.  And he said I  was the one who spoke before I thought.  Really.  He was a fine one to judge.  As usual, he knew what was about to happen, and made his form momentarily lose its solidity.  My foot passed right through him and bumped against his chair.  That also caused me to shift in an awkward movement.

“Are you well, Miss Felicity?” Alastair Wong asked in a concerned voice.

“Just a cramp in my foot,” I replied with a quick glare at Cornelis.

In the chair next to me Copper was nodding off even as she finished her dinner, though she denied it emphatically.  She reminded me that she hadn’t even had dessert.  I felt a little guilty, knowing we adults had talked animatedly throughout dinner.  Dessert would typically have already been served. 

I promised Copper she would get her dessert the next day.  Then the same woman who showed us to our rooms when we arrived at the pavilion took Copper up to her room.  The girl smiled brightly at the tiny woman.  I knew the two had connected the moment they met.

“Worry not Copper.  I will make sure they save you some Daofu fa.  It is sweet.  You will like it,” the woman told her as they walked down the hallway.

“My day began at an unusually early hour,” Alastair began and stifled a yawn.  “Also you have had a most trying journey.  I apologize if I have kept you late.  I shall retire now so that you may either go to your evening’s rest, or stroll around the grounds to further relax tight muscles.  Or perhaps you would like dessert served outside, whatever pleases you,” Wong said with a bow and a friendly smile as he left.

Cornelis poured coffee for the two of us from a silver pot. 

“Shall we take dessert out on the terrace?” he asked.

We moved outside.  The Dutchman held the decorative wrought iron chair as I arranged the dratted skirt and bustle so that I could sit at the little table.  After he took his seat, he looked at me with a very odd expression on his face.

“Cornelis, are you certain you’re well?” I asked in concern.

“Well?  As in healthy?  My dear, it’s not as though I’m alive in the normal sense of the word,” the alchemist replied.

The man was so exasperating. 

“You’ve been acting strangely ever since you popped off to the Hixon estate and did all that poking around,” I reminded him.

The Dutchman produced a leather portfolio.  He opened it and withdrew two sketches.  They were beautifully drawn.

“Cornelis, I didn’t realize you were such an artist.  You have true talent,” I said admiringly because I could tell it was true even before I had a good look at the drawings.

“Not so much talent as more than a hundred years to practice.  I drew designs of my inventions, but my hand wasn’t very deft until about a hundred years after…” his voice trailed away and I gathered he didn’t want to be diverted from whatever his subject was.

The sketches were both portraits.  It came as no surprise that one was of Copper.  He had captured her personality perfectly.  However, I was puzzled to see that the other sketch was of Ignatius Belle.  I praised his artistry again, because I couldn’t imagine why he would choose Ignatius, whom he completely distrusted, as his subject.

The alchemist heaved a great long-suffering sigh. 

“Honestly woman, you can be absolutely maddening,” he told me in a droll tone with a sad shake of his head.  “I have given you hint after hint,” he grumbled.

“What?  Do you mean that you’ve been acting so damnably strange because you’ve been trying to manipulate me into seeing something rather than simply telling me?” I asked, and the only thing that kept me from being angry with him was how utterly his manipulation had failed.

It did make me feel foolish too, but I refused to take that bait.  He motioned for me to look at the sketches again.  I looked.  I shrugged.

“Perhaps if I color them,” he muttered and waved his hand.

Magically Copper’s cheeks became rosy in the drawing.  Her eyes became blue.  In the other sketch, Belle’s eyes turned brown.  Then the girl’s hair glowed with coppery red color.  In the other drawing copper highlights came to the hair of Ignatius Belle, then a moment later the brown color followed.

“You’re pointing out the fact that Ignatius has copper highlights in his hair?” I asked feeling befuddled.

Then I suddenly saw what had been there all along.  A resemblance.  Copper’s face was full with youth, while Ignatius had masculine angles, but their features were very much alike.

“They’re related!” I proclaimed amazed.  “And closely I’ll wager.  How did you deduce this, Cornelis?”

“It was the portrait of Calvin Hixon,” he told me, and I realized that I had paid very little attention to the painting, as it was so standard and uninteresting.  “The coloring of the hair was the same as your innkeeper’s.  When I went back, I saw the family resemblances.”

I sipped my coffee as I thought.  “Hixon was youngish in the portrait…  I remember you asking Copper about it.  She indicated that he was much older when she was born,” I commented as assorted bits fell into place.  “But he had no previous marriage…” I started but did not finish my sentence.  “Oh!”

“Yet that’s not to say that Hixon had no other children.  I didn’t just prowl around, as you put it, at Hixon’s estate.  I went to Belle’s office at the Inn, and to his bedroom.  Based on letters Ignatius kept, he is the illegitimate son of Calvin Hixon,” Corenlis revealed.

“He is Copper’s half-brother?  Why would she distrust him so?” I thought aloud.  “Sibling rivalry?”

“It’s highly unlikely that she knows about the relationship,” Cornelis told me.  “In one of the letters Hixon offers to announce it to the community ― that his long-lost son has come home.  Actually, Belle was the one who wanted to keep it a secret.  He was the typically prudish Victorian in that respect.”

“However, Belle practically begged to work with Hixon on his inventions.  I gather that they spent a lot of time tinkering and inventing, at least for a while.  I’m not certain, but something must have soured in the relationship.  I just don’t know what, or how important it was,” Cornelis admitted.

“Ignatius Belle is Copper’s brother… or rather half-brother.  Why didn’t I see it?” I murmured.

Then I cast a withering look at Cornelis to stop him from making any disparaging remarks about me “not thinking efficiently.”

***

Real World Notes

The First Washing Machines.  Early washing machines were operated manually.  They imitated the motion of one’s hand on the washboard, but the machines used a lever to move one curved surface over another, as it rubbed the clothes between two ribbed surfaces. This type of washing machine was patented in the United States in 1846. They continued to be used into the late 1920s.

Victorian Vernacular

Gal-Senaker:  An 1870s term for a man devoted to seduction.

Gas-Pipes:  A term for particularly tight pants.

Gigglemug:  If someone is always smiling, they have a gigglemug.

Got the morbs:  In the 1880s, this phrase meant temporary melancholy.

***

At last!   Yes, that’s what I’ve been hinting at — our dashing innkeeper is Copper’s half-brother!  Although our bricky little moppet doesn’t seem to know it.  Why would Copper dislike him so intensely? 

Jump aboard the steam locomotive again next time with when the “things” were from Hugh’s Views and News.  Guess which of “Moustache Cup, Apricot Charlotte, and Mangle” will create a connection to the blood that links those two characters.

Copper, the Alchemist, and the Woman in Trousers will continue next Wednesday on Hidebound Hump Day.  

I’ll be looking for you at the station.  

Hugs! 

***

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This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

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