Skycircus Read online

  “Nothing in particular,” she said.

  Captain Springer tutted and returned to his task.

  Lily picked up the hatbox and went back inside, shutting the door behind her. She stood in the front hall for a good few seconds, stroking her fingers across the box’s lid and pondering the notebook and card.

  She should probably find somewhere to look at them properly before dinner. The grandfather clock beside the door to the front parlour read five thirty-five. She had until six, when people would start to arrive for the party.

  If she really wanted to get some reading done, it would have to be somewhere private, where no one would look for her – and she knew the exact spot!

  With the hatbox under one arm, Lily ascended the grand staircase and made her way along the landing. She passed the library, and then Papa’s office, where the portrait of Mama stared down at her from over the fireplace.

  She crossed in front of the closed door to Robert’s room and heard him arguing with Malkin inside.

  “I’m trying to perform a delicate operation here,” Robert was saying.

  “Then let me help,” Malkin replied.

  “No, you’ll only get fox-fur in the workings. Or chew something valuable.”

  “I will not.”

  “You’re gnawing at my trouser leg right now!”

  “Well, I do need to keep my teeth sharp. And I think you should know you positively reek of mothballs.”

  Lily didn’t hear Robert’s reply, for she continued on her way, past the back bathroom and the linen closet. At the end of the passage she reached for a glass doorknob set at hand-height into the wallpaper. Turning it, she stepped into a secret servants’ stairwell that ran up the back of the house.

  Lily climbed the steep staircase, avoiding the mechanicals’ quarters on the highest landing, before finally reaching a set of wooden steps that led under the eaves of the roof into a tower room at the very top of the house. There, dusty wooden floorboards stretched out beneath four big arched windows that faced out to the north, south, east and west.

  Set before the eastern window was a telescope attached to a tripod, which Lily, Robert and Papa sometimes used for stargazing. At the opposite end of the room, a sun-faded rug spread across the floor beneath the western window. On it sat an old armchair with upholstery that looked like it had survived a vicious squirrel attack, but had actually only been mauled by Malkin. Next to the chair was a steamer trunk that Lily and Robert used as a coffee table. Its top was crowded with stacks of books, half-drunk cups of tea and an old oil lamp.

  When Lily and Robert had first made this room their den, Lily had busily decorated the walls with copperplate etchings from her most gruesome penny dreadfuls, pinning them onto the bare bricks around the chair. There were four illustrations from Varney the Vampyre Versus the Air-Pirates and six from Spring-Heeled Jack Battles the Spider-Monsters – a particular favourite series of Lily’s since she’d learned her friend Anna Quinn had penned a few issues.

  Each grisly page had been liberally doused in blood-red paint to make them even gorier. Lily had used a whole tube of red from her Young Lady’s Watercolour Set to paint them and most of the pins in her Goodly Seamstresses’ Sewing Kit to fix them to the wall – those past birthday gifts from Papa had come in useful after all.

  The illustrations flapped in the wind as Lily opened the nearest window to let in a little air.

  She dropped the hatbox beside the armchair and sat down. Cradling the red notebook in her lap, she opened it to the first full page of writing.

  On the top line her mama had scribbled the day and date, and an opening entry:

  Sunday, 1st September 1867,

  the Fairfax residence

  A new Flyology

  This notebook is inspired by the writings of Ada Lovelace – mechanist extraordinaire. Specifically, her innovative study Flyology, in which she first proposed the creation of clockwork-powered, winged creatures – ornithopters that mimicked the flight of birds.

  Within these pages, I intend to expand on her theories; shepherding my own ideas into fruition so that they might soar to the great heights enjoyed by Ada before the end of this most marvellous century.

  Not only will I record my day-to-day progress in this endeavour, but I will also document the trials I face as one of the first women studying in the mechanical field – an arena dominated by men.

  My name is Grace Rose Fairfax, and this is my story…

  As Lily read, a lump formed in her throat. At points her eyes blurred, and she lost focus. It was almost too much to bear to think she could meet Mama again through the pages of this red notebook. Each sentence felt like an invitation she hadn’t expected to receive, to a conversation she’d never known she could have.

  How long was Mama working on the Flyology project? Had she ever managed to make it a reality? Papa had certainly never mentioned it, nor this notebook. So who had sent it? Perhaps the second clue the riddle mentioned would offer an answer when it finally arrived.

  Come to think of it, Papa hadn’t said much about the fact that Mama had been a mechanist either. He had alluded to it in passing, but he’d never gone into detail. Lily longed to ask him about his and Mama’s life together, but she was afraid talk of the past might upset him, and she never seemed to hit on the right moment.

  Now here, between the pages of this red notebook, she might find the answers she’d been searching for to the questions that burned so strongly in her heart. A heart that broke on that cold October day seven years ago when Mama died.

  Lily’s hand strayed to her chest and felt for the soft outline of her scars – cuts she once thought had been made by shattering glass during the accident that had gravely injured her and killed Mama, but were in actual fact from the transplant operation when the Cogheart had been knitted into her body.

  Those raw wounds had healed over long ago, but the ghostly pain and loss they’d ushered in still ached within her, and Lily didn’t feel like reliving those emotions right now. Not on her birthday.

  She took her hand from her chest and closed the notebook. As she did so, a single sheet of scalloped card fell from the endpapers, fluttering to the floor like a feather and coming to rest at her feet.

  She bent down to pick it up, turning it over to examine it.

  Etched on its front in silver and gold was an image of a girl in a frilly tutu and ballet shoes. From the picture it was hard to tell the girl’s age, but she looked to be around fifteen years old. Her long, languid arms were spread wide above her head and stretched out behind them was the most enormous set of mechanical wings.

  The wings flowed from the girl’s back as if they were part of her body. Their every feather, cog and wire was picked out in ink and around them a set of curlicued words was arranged:

  Underneath the poster was a note for Lily:

  This VIP ticket entitles Lily Hartman and three friends to visit us and receive answers.

  PS Angelique would like to meet you after the show!

  Could this be the second clue? Strange, Lily knew no one named Angelique, nor any circus performers, and she was entirely unfamiliar with Slimwood’s Stupendous Skycircus – whatever that was… But to discover a hybrid girl with wings wanted to meet her – right after learning about Mama’s Flyology project, and to find the promise of answers in the same invitation – that was just too intriguing.

  Hybrids weren’t common and Lily had never encountered one her own age before. In fact, the truth was, she’d only ever met two: horrible eye-less men named Roach and Mould, who’d tried to kill her. Otherwise, she’d no idea how many more existed in the world. The rest, she imagined, were in all likelihood hidden away; kept closeted from sight, as she was, so as not to disturb the “normal” populace.

  That being probable, it was nice to see a girl, who at least in this picture, was displaying her difference and seemed proud of it. Lily hoped her wings were real and not just fancy-dress or fantasy. How had she ended up in the circus in the f
irst place? And was there a connection between her and Mama?

  She peered closer at the girl’s picture, but her face held no answers, it was merely a mystery dissolving into print marks. There was only one way to discover the truth – she would have to go to the Skycircus tonight. It would be her only chance to speak with Angelique.

  From its rather unpromising start, this birthday was turning out to be far more interesting than she’d expected. She scanned the ticket again.

  The address was a mystery, but the sun had barely started to set – if the circus was in Brackenbridge, she would probably still be able to see it from her tower window.

  She stood and pressed her eye to the end of the telescope; her heart ticked loudly as she swung the lens around, scanning the countryside.

  In the sky, the grey scudding clouds were rimmed with gold, like sweat-stains on the silk lining of an old hat. A thin yellow fog rose from the waters of the River Bracken and wound its way through the village, where the crowns of the trees, blazing a bright autumnal red, interrupted the jagged lines of the rooftops.

  In the meadow at the far end of the village, half-hidden by the scrub and woodland, a strand of gold flashed in the quickening twilight.

  Lily focused in on it.

  It was a winged figurehead on the front of a tethered sky-ship.

  A hot-air balloon bobbed above it. The red-and-white striped silks pulsed softly like a glow-worm in the gloaming, spilling out strands of light over the top of an enormous canvas tent and a high, spiked circular wooden fence plastered with colourful posters. Crowds of people were already wading through the knee-high fog to queue up outside the kiosk and gated entranceway of what had to be the Skycircus.

  Robert was running out of time. The hour of the professor’s party had almost arrived. The guests were due to start turning up any moment and he needed to get changed for the evening’s events. The trouble was he still hadn’t finished repairing Lily’s birthday present.

  He’d always intended to have the pocket watch mended by her fourteenth birthday at the very latest, and to give it to her as a surprise. But here he was, still working on it at the eleventh hour. And here the watch was, still not working.

  At least Malkin had stopped gnawing at his trouser leg – that was one less distraction. Though the threadbare old clockwork fox was still curled up beneath his desk, getting under his feet.

  “What’s taking so long?” Malkin asked, blinking his black eyes. “You said you’d be finished by now.”

  “One more piece…”

  Robert peered down through his magnifying glass at the watch’s interior. The hairspring, gear train, balance wheel, fork pin and escapement mechanisms were perfectly balanced and aligned, like a miniature landscape. On the top edge of the case, beneath the crown, was the maker’s mark: T.T. – for his da, Thaddeus Townsend.

  The pocket watch had been made by Thaddeus years ago and Lily’s papa had bought it and given it to her on her ninth birthday. But the calibre inside the case had stopped when he, Lily and Malkin had fallen into the Fleet Ponds on Hampstead Heath after jumping from a moving airship, and since that day Robert had taken it on himself to repair it.

  He’d spent months cleaning every interior element of the watch and now he had only to replace one last jewel bearing that balanced the pivot wheel. He took up his tweezers and carefully picked the tiny glinting gem up from his desk.

  His hand shook as he held it over the watch case and teased it into place.

  “What’ve you got Lily?” he asked Malkin, more to distract himself than anything else.

  The fox drew back his lips, revealing yellow teeth. “I shan’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”

  Robert wondered if that surprise was the dead mouse he’d seen Malkin nudging around the dusty corner of the hallway the other day, but didn’t dare ask.

  The bearing slipped smoothly into its fixing, slotting in with the other parts. Robert closed the watch case over it. There. His work was complete.

  His belly fluttered with excitement as he wound the watch for the first time and brought it up to his face. He could hear the tick of the parts in the calibre and the hands moved smoothly, just as they should.

  He set the time by his new mantel clock, then slipped the watch into an envelope, which he tied with a red ribbon.

  Now he could give it to Lily as soon as he saw her.

  He stood and changed quickly into his outfit for the evening: a dress shirt, sharp black trousers and shoes that shone bright as buttons.

  He tucked away his ma’s silver Moonlocket that he always wore beneath his shirt collar, before tying his bow tie and finally adjusting his cog-shaped cufflinks.

  Then he pulled on a long-tailed, silk-lined suit jacket and put the envelope containing the watch in its pocket, before stepping over to the full-length mirror next to the washstand to admire himself.

  He didn’t scrub up half bad. The suit still fitted, just about. He’d worn it to the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee in July, and for his own birthday last month. Though it had got a little short in the sleeve since then, he observed. And his reflection now grazed the top of the mirror.

  With delight he realized he must’ve grown. Perhaps he was destined to be the most statuesque one in his family? His da hadn’t been particularly tall when he’d been alive, and his ma and little sister, Caddy, who he’d first met over the summer, had both turned out to be rather dainty in stature. Currently the pair of them were travelling the world performing in their spiritualist show, and though they’d promised to return soon, Robert wasn’t sure how long that would be. He wished they could see him now. Fourteen years old and looking practically a man in his smart suit…carrying on Da’s work, an’ all – how proud they’d be of him!

  Though his hair was still a mess… He reached over to the washstand for a glop of pomade and ran a hand through his tangle of curls, trying to straighten them out.

  It didn’t work. The hair sprang back almost immediately, its unruly spirals twirling round the tips of his ears like overenthusiastic ivy. He gave up and, after washing his hands in the basin, straightened his bowtie instead.

  When he’d finally finished, he did up the breast button on the front of the suit.

  “How do I look?” he asked Malkin, who was now rustling the tissue paper in the suit box that lay on the bed, trying to make a nest with it.

  The fox gave a black-lipped sneer and wrinkled his threadbare nose. “Like a penguin who’s just lost a job as a waiter.”

  “Thanks.” Robert contemplated trying to wrestle a ribbon around Malkin’s neck. Partly in honour of the evening’s occasion, and partly in revenge for his snide comment. Then he remembered how sharp and snappy Malkin’s teeth got when he was angry and thought better of it.

  “I think Lily’s hiding from us,” Malkin said. “Or sulking. You know how bad she gets when she thinks no one’s paying her any attention, and that’s when it’s not even her birthday. Clank knows what she’ll be like tonight, with a party where she’s not the main event. At least we’ve got our gifts to cheer her up. You’ll carry mine for me, won’t you, Robert?”

  Malkin jumped off the bed and nudged something small and furry towards him along the floor. It was the very dead mouse Robert had feared. “I’ve no opposable thumbs, you see.”

  “All right.” Wearily, Robert picked up the deceased rodent and put it in his pocket. He found it best not to argue with the fox in cases like this.

  At least Lily would be pleased with his present. He was pretty chuffed himself with how it had turned out. His clockmaking skills were improving and one day he would be a master horologist, just like his da. He was, he realized, gradually becoming the sort of person who could put anything back together. No matter how broken it might be.

  Downstairs in the hall, all the lamps were lit and the front door was open. Lily was nowhere to be seen, but in the foyer the first few visitors had already materialized. Outside, in the glowing sunset, a queue of hansom steam-cabs waited to di
sgorge the rest of the guests onto the front steps.

  Professor John Hartman, Lily’s father, was standing in the vestibule, shaking hands and bowing politely to each and every new arrival as they entered the house. When he glimpsed Robert and Malkin at the base of the stairs, he surreptitiously beckoned them over.

  “Have you seen Lily?” he asked.

  Robert shook his head. Malkin shook his snout.

  “That’s a shame,” John said. “She’s missing out on all the fun.”

  What fun? Robert wanted to say out loud, and he was surprised that for once Malkin didn’t say it for him.

  By now the entire hall and front parlour were packed with fusty, dusty-looking professors from the Mechanists’ Guild. Robert knew they were from the guild because each wore a single golden cog insignia – the guild’s symbol – pinned to their coat lapel. And he knew they were professors because they looked professor-y – which is to say, rather rumpled, eccentrically dressed and a little wild round the edges. He searched for a friendly face among them, but there was no one he knew.

  John observed his look of scepticism. “I invited some of Lily’s pals – that reporter, Anna Quinn, and her assistant, Bartholomew Mudlark.”

  “Where are they then?” Malkin queried.

  “I don’t know,” John replied, “but they promised to put in an appearance. This lot have flown in on the evening transport zep, but Anna’s probably bringing Tolly in her own airship.”

  “You mean Ladybird?” Robert asked.

  “That’s the one.” John nodded. “After they’ve arrived, and when the presentation part of the evening’s over, I’m going to give a little speech for Lily at around nine and give her her birthday gift in front of everyone.”

  He pulled two small packages from his pocket and showed them to Robert and Malkin. They were both beautifully wrapped in colourful paper and red ribbon. “They’re a surprise. So if you wouldn’t mind keeping them a secret until the big moment arrives? You too, Malkin – I know what you’re like.”