Ok, before I forget again, I just wanted to say thank you to Duvetsnuggler for the amazing story covers. They look great!
I love the guessing guys. Keep it up!
I know nothing about fixing wheels so just imagine that anything HG says is true. Honestly, the things I find myself googling for this story!
Enjoy...
Chapter Twelve
Dawn brought with it a grey and miserable start to a new day. At the breakfast table, Myka suppressed yet another yawn and wished she had managed to bully her brain into shutting down the previous evening. As it was, the memory of Helena's hurt and conflicted expression after dinner haunted her well into the early hours of the morning, leaving her lethargic and guilt ridden.
To make the morning even more angst filled, a missive arrived for Eleanor just as she was preparing to retire to her study and judging by the look she threw Myka, the agent knew that it was about Helena.
"Christina, you go ahead to the nursery. I'll catch up with you; I just need to speak with Mrs Wells." She barely glanced at the girl, such was her rush but the tone of voice that followed her gave her pause.
"But I thought you said that today was going to be for us?" The girl's face crumpled, tears magnifying her dark eyes.
Myka turned to find tracks running down cheeks and a bottom lip stuck out as far as it would go before it could become comical. "Oh, Sweetheart." She immediately turned back and pulled the girl into her arms. Apparently, she wasn't the only one suffering after their late night. "Today is absolutely all about us. You're right," she realised aloud. Guilt, disappointment and frustration warred for dominance within her. What was in that letter? "I'm sorry. Let's head upstairs and you can show me exactly what you want to do today." She helped to wipe away any remaining tears and let her daughter lead her to the schoolroom.
"Grandma Elle said that I could play with some of Mum... Helena's old toys." Despite the slip of the tongue, Christina's face brightened. "There are simply hundreds of building blocks. I thought we could build a super-structure!"
"Grandma Elle?" Christina nodded with enthusiasm and Myka decided that the question was better suited for the Wells matriarch herself. "Ok," she chuckled, reaching for one of the aforementioned building materials. "Where shall we start?" She looked around, eyeing up the space and wondering just how big this 'super-structure' would be. To her surprise though, the block disappeared from her hand and two disapproving eyes gazed up at her.
"Mama, we have to design it first," the girl insisted as if it should have been obvious.
"Of course, how silly of me." Myka playfully rolled her eyes and within half an hour, the thought of that letter and its contents were wedged firmly in the back of her mind.
By lunchtime, the sketches were declared acceptable by the boss and they began construction on the foundation. Remembering her own childhood when she and Tracy were forced together and the arguments she'd had with her sister over the sorts of games they should play, Myka realised that she would have thoroughly enjoyed spending time with a girl like Christina. She wondered briefly if Helena had preferred more logistical pastimes as a child and then kicked herself as she remembered whose toys they were playing with. Had HG been born in the twenty first century instead of the nineteenth, she would no doubt have wanted a chemistry set, Lego, Mechano, a potato clock and all manner of geeky toys. The American smiled softly to herself as she tried to picture the scene and in the back of her mind, she began thinking about the coming year's stocking fillers.
That was, if home was still there when they were finally allowed to go.
These dark, pessimistic thoughts broke through her resolve from time to time, making her doubt the conclusions she had reached with Caturanga. It did her little good to dwell on them so she tried hard not to but the weight of them affected her anyhow.
Thankfully, a day spent at the beck and call of an eight-year-old left little time to think and before either of them knew it, Myka was rolling up their blue-prints and insisting that they call it a day.
"Just one more layer of bricks," Christina's tired, whiny tone filled the space between rooms as Myka poked her in the direction of the WC. "Please?"
Chuckling, the agent stopped and knelt down to eye level. "You are falling asleep on your feet. I'm sure we'll have time after your lessons tomorrow to build some more."
Disapproval glared through a heavy frown. "I don't like lessons. They're not the same."
"I know," Myka responded sympathetically, knowing that Christina was referring to the lessons she had with Helena back at home. She rubbed her hands up and down short arms as she searched for a solid reason for the girl to continue to focus on her schoolwork. Since Myka had needed to be in consultation with the regents and the Warehouse a fair bit, Eleanor had hired a temporary tutor for Christina. "Would you like it if your teacher and I alternated? I don't think there's much for me to do for the Warehouse at the moment," she suggested, whispering the last bit.
Brown eyes lit up, chasing the frown away. "Yay!" she shouted, causing a raised eyebrow from a passing chambermaid. "Will you start tomorrow?" she added hopefully.
"I think it's a little late in the day to be cancelling Ms Thorne." Myka stood and encouraged Christina to start moving again. "But how about I do the two days after that so long as I'm not needed anywhere?"
The eight-year-old's disappointment was brief as she began thinking about those two days and planning the lessons they would have. Ms Thorne was much nicer and smelled better than the tutor she'd had when she was living at Uncle Charles', but the subjects were dull and she'd had no luck in getting the woman to deviate from her timetable. Mama would make their learning fun, she just knew it!
After seeing her daughter through her ablutions and reading her into a state of semi-sleep, Myka crept out of their bedroom and walked off with the sole purpose of finding Eleanor. Now that she was free from her parental duties for the evening, the morning's mail was on her mind again.
She found the older woman in her library, perched in her favourite chair, reading The Picture of Dorian Grey. Hating to disturb someone when they were enjoying a good book, Myka hesitated in the doorway. Just as she decided that she could wait until the following morning, a voice beckoned her closer.
"I thought you'd be paying me a visit before the end of the day," Eleanor's voice cracked with amusement as she indicated to her young visitor to take a seat. "That child of yours must be awfully persuasive to keep you away."
"I promised I would spend the day with her, no distractions, and no excuses." She smiled. "She certainly knows how to make the most of a promise."
"And so do you I think," Mrs Wells nodded her approval before reaching into the pocket of her dressing gown. "I believe this is what you're looking for." She held it at arm's length, passing it to the American. "I don't think we'll be seeing much of my granddaughter this week," she added as a warning, catching the worry on Myka's face.
Pausing for just a moment, the time traveller pulled the envelope open carefully and tugged the letter out. It was short and to the point, but as she read Helena's sloping scrawl, she could feel the emotion between the lines.
"She requested an assignment," Myka spoke after several long seconds, her voice heavy. Though the letter merely mentioned a journey of undisclosed length she, like Eleanor, knew the tell tale signs of an agent on a mission. "To get away from me?"
"You could look at it that way. Thought I think it would be more accurate to say that she merely requires time to understand her feelings." Leaning forward in her chair, Eleanor reached out to squeeze Myka's hand in comfort. "I know my Little One, Myka. She has known you for less than a week and the change in her has been immense. While she may appear to many as fickle in her personal pursuits, her emotions run deep. When she cares, truly cares about someone, those feelings become like a force of nature that even she struggles to control."
Myka nodded reluctantly and sank into her seat with a sigh. It was going to be a long week.
"Oh, bugger it all! Bloody brilliant!" HG threw her hands up in the air, gesturing wildly to a captive audience of one. "This just makes my sodding week."
Pushing passed her slack-jawed companion, Helena jumped down from the carriage and turned her displeased expression on the unsuspecting cab driver.
She and Agent McShane were on their way to Salem Chapel in East Budleigh to search for a pendant that purportedly created an aura around its wearer, masking their lies. A century or so ago, the priest of the church was suspected of using the holy establishment to aid the passing smuggling trade but no one could catch him in the act, and who would dare to accuse a man of God when he appeared so innocent?
As the duo passed a few miles beyond Exeter though, their carriage began to experience problems and now it appeared as if their journey was going to be cut short.
Continuing to glare, the inventor sighed, displaying her impatience. "Well?"she began. "Can you fix it or not?"
Startled and not a little insulted by this young woman's attitude, the driver pulled his cap tighter around his ears. It was midday and the sun was at its zenith but the late autumn air was biting and having been sat out in the open for the past few hours, he was chilled enough not to care a fig for anyone else's discomfort. "I reckon a few strong lads could push that thing back int' place and put a tempor'y nut there to keep the wheel on. 'Fraid I'm fresh out though," he chuckled, his rough laugh catching in his throat as he pulled out a pipe and searched for a light. "I'll tell y' the best thing to do; release that there horse and ride 'im to the nearest town. A good blacksmith'll 'ave the right 'elp."
Rolling her eyes, Helena pushed passed the driver and leant down to inspect the troublesome wheel. It was a simple enough problem, the nut having come loose and fallen off so that the wheel had gradually worked its way to the end of the axel. The driver was right, they would need a couple of strong bodies to lift while the wheel was pushed back into place and a new nut installed. Unless, one could create the right sort of pressure to lift this side of the carriage. A simple wedge would hold the wheel until their destination and from there the proper repairs could be made.
Without consulting anyone, Helena searched around and, finally finding what she was looking for, grabbed hold of the horse's reigns.
"Oi! What the blinkin' 'eck do you think you're doin' wiv my 'orse?" The cabbie protested when he looked up through the smoke from his pipe. "You're only gunna make it worse, y'ear?"
Ignoring the feeble protests, HG called to her colleague. "Come and push against this wheel while I pull the carriage forward. I doubt it'll move it back into place but the pressure should prevent it from slipping off any further. Ready?"
"That depends," Rob looked sceptical. "Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" Despite the question, he did as he was asked and waited to see what would happen.
"Just watch and learn, McShane," HG grinned, her irritation waning in the face of their dilemma. "You'll see."
The horse was mercifully biddable and moved when asked to. The driver looked on in awe as his well-spoken charge managed to find a sturdy log and a boulder to use as a pivot. Her companion had just enough strength to lift the wheel while she pushed it back into place, and then, with seemingly little effort, she fashioned a wedge that she instructed the young man to hammer into place with a rock. The whole process seemed to take no time at all and she merely raised an amused eyebrow at him as she climbed back up into the box ahead of her friend.
"Well? Shall we away?" HG's voice called out from her reacquired seat.
"She er... always like that?" the driver asked as his male passenger prepared to climb up after the young woman.
Rob smiled sympathetically. "As long as I've known her," he stated ruefully.
After the adventure on the road, he mistakenly assumed that his travelling companion's mood would lighten and that they might pass the time with some light conversation, but the moment the carriage began to move again, HG returned to staring out of the window, lost to her thoughts.
Debating whether to leave her be or not, he eventually decided that it would be best to just air everything out and not endure three or four days of awkward silence.
"So HG, why the sudden need to return to work?" he began brazenly. "I understood that you were enjoying the new companionship at your grandfather's estate. Don't tell me that you've alienated their guest already."
Helena threw her colleague a sour look and returned to the bleak view over the fields. "Quite frankly, McShane, it's none of your damned business why I asked for a new assignment; you're just here to assist me."
Rob scoffed. "Is that so? Well, quite frankly, I don't intend to spend the next few days with someone who clearly has the morbs. I could find myself a spot at the nearest rubber and find much more amenable company while I become pleasantly ram-tammed." He was only halfway bluffing but hoped that the gamble would pay off.
"You are insufferable, do you know that?" the moody inventor grumbled. Amongst her colleagues, she didn't hide the fact that she enjoyed the company of women, and it both amused and annoyed her that they assumed every problem she had was due to that. It didn't help that they were often right. This time though, the issue ran deep. "I have not alienated her," she insisted after a long pause. "We are perfectly amiable. I merely required a few days to gather my senses."
The admission came at great pain as Helena felt her stomach clench and her eyes sting. Wasn't it enough that she was apparently falling for someone completely unattainable? Did she also have to talk about it?
"Ah." Rob nodded to himself in understanding. "Unrequited passions are the cruellest, are they not? I've heard that she's in charge of her husband's business affairs and that she'd rather attractive." He threw a knowing glance Helena's way. She was still unaware that it was Warehouse agents who had discovered the woman by the Thames. He and Rudy were under strict orders not to let on that they knew anything. He couldn't help wondering what sort of curiosity the stranger had gotten mixed up with and why HG had to be kept in the dark, but decided that all would come clear eventually. He put his faith in his superiors. "Looks and brains. Just your type I imagine."
"Hmm," HG mumbled noncommittally.
"Cheer up, Wells," McShane bolstered after a sober silence. "With looks and brains like yours, you'll never want for company, and it's not as if you even sit still long enough to really want to settle yet anyhow. Stiff upper lip, old chum. Let's say the drinks are on me tonight, hmm?"
Helena shook her head and forced a smile. She had begged Caturanga for this assignment, needing to put some space between her and Myka and now here she was, wasting the opportunity by dwelling on what the other woman might be doing and thinking in her absence.
Something didn't sit right with everything she'd learnt about the American so far. Myka was hiding something, of that she was sure, she just couldn't figure out what it could possibly be. Was she running away from someone or something? Was she a victim of some crime or a master criminal herself? Perhaps a vigilante escaping the consequences of her actions? So many scenarios had passed through her mind that when a lone thought suggested the possible involvement of an artefact, it almost seemed ridiculous. Almost.
Any hint of a curiosity would initiate a search from the Warehouse though and nothing in the area had been reported as far as she was aware. Still, she planned to keep her ear to the ground.
"Very well," she agreed, determined to shake her dark mood away. "Though I expect you to be still fit for the job come morning. I haven't missed a grab yet so woes betide you if you mess this one up."
She grinned to herself at the expression of impending doom that came over Rob's face as he processed her words. She had no intention of getting blind drunk but she couldn't help feeling a little better at the idea of a glass of something strong to bring about a window of fuzzy nonchalance.
Eighteen days into their unanticipated adventure and both time travellers were reaching a point of uncontrollable pessimism. Try as she might, Myka struggled to muster the kind of enthusiasm that could fool an eight year old and the increasing moments of hopelessness that loomed around the two of them seemed to suck all joy out of life.
It had been difficult while Helena was around but with her gone, it was unbearable.
Despite what Eleanor had said about her granddaughter needing time to process and to not take it personally, Myka couldn't help but feel that she was the cause of every negative consequence. Without the inventor around, she had been forced to over think her every action, from the moment of their first encounter in the dining room, to the looks they'd exchanged as Helena left with her mother and brother over a week ago.
She couldn't help feeling that she should have worked harder to hide her feelings but her actions had been so involuntary that the mere idea of having done anything different was preposterous.
With Helena supposedly returning today, Myka was on edge, struggling between wanting to create a reasonable boundary; to maintain their semi-friendship; or to just say to hell with it and wrap her arms around the Victorian while declaring her undying love.
She was aware that her hormones were all over the place and that Christina's sullenness was beginning to grate on her nerves. Their completed super-structure had enjoyed an all too brief existence as tempers broke over the reason for HG's absence and small, angry feet took their frustrations out of the supporting beams. The tears had seemed endless after that incident and Myka had held her distraught child for over an hour while her own sorrows dripped into dark, wavy hair.
Myka paced Eleanor's study now, a new letter from Helena held in her hand. "She wants to hold an informal gathering at her brother's tomorrow evening?" The meaning in the letter was very clear but the American was having difficulty wrapping her head around it. "I suppose that means she's figured out where she stands. If she can bear to spend the evening with me then she must have resolved whatever was bothering her." Her words sounded optimistic while her heart sank.
"Must she?" Mrs Wells countered, not believing for a minute that Helena could be rid of her conflicts so easily. She watched her guest carefully; the way she worried her lip and pulled at her hair. If she hadn't already known that they would end up together, she would have completely despaired at the pair of them. "I've no doubt that Helena might make every effort to put on a front but do not be fooled; she believes by now that you are taken and must protect herself from foreseeable heartache. It is a useless endeavour of course; true love cannot be so effortlessly thwarted." Tilting her head to one side, she added, "It is also equally likely that she might have decided to throw caution to the wind."
Myka sighed and sank into the nearest seat. "You say that like it's a good thing. How do we know that I haven't ruined everything by being here? What if she was supposed to be in London all this time?" She ran a hand through her unruly hair.
Eleanor smiled sympathetically. While she couldn't entirely empathise with Myka's plight, she understood her doubts. There was so much about this situation that was unknown and yet somehow, she found it easy to have faith that everything would turn out well. Without the weight of guilt that the time traveller carried, it was a somewhat easier task to be optimistic.
By the following evening, the brunette looked no more at ease with her thoughts, though perhaps a little brighter at the prospect of seeing Helena. Christina too was considerably more lively as she hovered by the door, waiting for the adults to show that they were ready. Though HG's gathering was intended to be a venture strictly for adults, Eleanor, seeing her great-granddaughter's disappointment, suggested that they arrive an hour early. Not only would this allow her the opportunity to check on Helena but she could also take Christina back home with her and leave Myka to enjoy the evening without concern for her daughter.
The American hesitated in front of the mirror in her room, her hands brushing down the front of her dress, assessing the fit. She had to hand it to Lucile; she had managed an amazing feat in the shortest time. If she had taken the time to think about it, she might have considered the idea that the tailor was prepared with a stash of blanks ready to go, but her mind was too otherwise occupied to bother. The only thing that really crossed her mind in regards to the outfit was whether Helena would like it.
The peacock blue of the bodice and skirt were unlike anything she had worn before, and the striking colour made her wonder how much the entire ensemble cost. The gestation stay held her curves in place but true to her request, wasn't too tight. The French bodice was cut in such a way that it made her shoulders wider, which worked with the jacket to make her waist appear narrower than it was. The double layered draped skirt, though not overly wide, added to the effect so that, while anyone who took the time to study her would see that she was expecting, it wasn't the first thing everyone would notice.
With the dress passing inspection and her hair pulled up, Myka felt a mixture of anticipation and shame. Was she really going to keep doing this? Torturing herself and Helena? The inventor had invited her though. What would she think if Myka didn't show? She knew it was a poor excuse but she could only liken the twisting of her stomach and twitching in her veins to what she'd read during her pre-med studies of addicts and withdrawal symptoms.
How long had it been since she'd held her lover in her arms? Her eidetic memory took her to the night Helena had left for California. It felt like months had passed since that moment. Had it really only been three weeks? With the young HG taking off for the best part of a week, Myka was more emotional than ever. She was desperate to end this journey into the past but had no idea how. Both Eleanor and Caturanga continued to encourage patience but neither of them knew the inner battle she was fighting.
Sighing, she closed her eyes and tried to calm her thoughts. It would do no good to turn up at Charles and Helena's town house looking like she'd spent the last few days crying. Even if that was close to the truth.
The carriage ride seemed to take no time at all, as Christina monopolised Eleanor's attention and Myka stared off into space. Soon enough, they arrived and were shown into the parlour where Charles greeted them with considerably more enthusiasm than he'd shown in his mother's presence. Charmed by her uncle, the eight year old bordered on impolite as she interrogated him about his hobbies and explained her love of the stage.
Myka stood unassumingly in the background, her attention drifting to every little creak of a floorboard or groan of the walls until the sound of heels on the stairs caught her keen ears and her eyes darted to the doorway.
The dark green, black trim and lace of Helena's dress gave the inventor a gothic air. The cut was simple with just the collar and cuffs adding a slight masculine feel that made Myka think of her lover's preferred outfits. Half-gloves covered the base of her hands, drawing the time traveller's attention to long, slender fingers and taking her thoughts to tantalising places. She swept that body with a hungry gaze, finally meeting mahogany orbs and finding her desperation mirrored back at her.
The American could feel their desire for one another across the room, but rather than finding the sensation heavy; rather than drowning in it, she felt buoyed, lifted out of her sorrows and drawn to safety. Lips slowly curled up at the corners and Helena returned the expression. Their eyes remained locked as HG wandered closer and Myka wondered briefly where the music was coming from. The moment those fingers touched her arm though, the spell broke and the calm, lulling waves surged, crashing against her insides.
Her heart pounding, Myka felt her expression slip. She tore her gaze away and screwed her eyes closed.
"Mrs Bering, are you quite alright?"
Charles' voice cut through the drumming in her head and brought her back to the room. "Yes, I..." She swallowed thickly, swaying ever so slightly with the room. "I haven't had much sleep. Could I get a glass of water please?"
"Certainly," Charles answered, calling for a servant.
Mercifully, the future agent took a breath and felt the room slide back into place. Helena's hand had retreated but hovered close, ready to help if needed. Myka could see in dark eyes though that her reaction had hurt the young inventor.
"Myka, if you are unwell, you would be welcome to return with Christina and myself," Mrs Wells suggested with a glance in her granddaughter's direction. "There will be other opportunities to visit."
"Yes, of course," Helena agreed wholeheartedly. "Do not cause yourself any distress on my behalf, please. I would cancel the entire evening if it would suit you." She ignored the raised eyebrow from her brother. Worrying that she had somehow been the cause of the American's state, HG was willing to go to any lengths to find a remedy.
Though her brain agreed that it was probably the best idea and that it was a good excuse to do the right thing, her heart refused to listen. Stomach clenching in knots at the idea of leaving Helena, Myka was determined to stay.
Feeling uncomfortable with all the fuss, the American sipped her water and shook her head. "I'm fine, really. I don't have to spend the entire evening standing, do I? If we could sit?" She didn't wait to see if they would follow her as she turned and sank gently into a low-backed couch. "I don't want to have spent so long getting dressed up only to have to leave early," she smiled sheepishly up at them and heard a smattering of amusement round the room.
Aware that all eyes were watching her closely for any sign of failing health, Myka drew from her reserves and adopted a brave face. In the back of her mind, she puzzled over the moment when Helena had touched her. It hadn't been unpleasant so much as it was simply overwhelming. She felt a residual tingling in her extremities and recognised it immediately for what it was. Desire. Arousal. Another sensation pulsed closer to her core. Love. Remembering a piece of the mystery, she glanced down at her ring finger and tried to focus but all she felt was warmth before her thoughts were interrupted.
"Isn't that right, Mama?"
Christina's expectant expression gazed up at Myka and she had to switch gears to replay the conversation that had continued around her. "Yes, you are a right little tree house enthusiast. I wouldn't be surprised if you managed to build one almost singlehandedly after the house you made in the play room the other day. You barely let me lift a finger to help."
"What was this?" Helena asked, intrigued, her expression bright as she listened attentively to the young girl.
"We used your blocks to build a super structure," the eight year old began, launching into a detailed explanation of the entire process.
"That sounds incredible," the inventor gushed with genuine interest. "Did you leave it erected? I would dearly love to see it."
Christina's face fell and her soulful gaze landed on her Mama. Myka pulled her closer and placed a kiss on her forehead, smiling ruefully to show that there were no hard feelings for the regretted tantrum. "Christina decided to corner the market on construction and demolition. Knocking things down and starting again is sometimes half the fun." She turned pleading eyes on Helena, begging her to understand.
HG chuckled, "If I had a crown for every time I scrapped an invention and started again, I'd have a pocket full of finnys."
Like becoming accustomed to a sudden change in illumination, Myka's panic eased, her body growing comfortably reacquainted with Helena's proximity. When it came time for Eleanor and Christina to leave, she stood easily and melted rather than jumped as the inventor instinctively reached out to steady her.
You can do this, she told herself firmly. You have no idea how long you're going to be here and you can't avoid Helena. You'll go crazy if you have to live through another week like this one.
With this thought settled firmly in her mind now, chasing away the doubts, Myka saw her daughter to the door and kissed her goodnight. She smiled warmly when Helena promised to visit with the young girl in a day or two and returned to the parlour with a sense of growing confidence.
As HG joined her and Charles, and guests soon began to arrive, there was no thought in her mind for how the evening could possibly end in disaster.
Next up... back to check in on the 21st century...