Ladies Who Got Away

Jennifer Stevenson

Description

A Princess of WittgensteinA steampunk romance where the metal meets the meat.Ileen is a chambermaid on the run, and a promethean. She is faintly blue all over, and her left arm is not the arm she was born with. She knows she was probably assembled from dead people. But who was she?Fortunately her new London employers have open minds: Dr Penderby, respected associate of Dr Polidari, works extensively with prometheans and automata, and his wife Mrs Penderby is the founder of the Society for the Broader Definition of Humanity.Only one person might ruin Ileen's new life: Soames, the Penderbys' automaton butler.Next, two short stories set in a fantastical pseudo-Byzantine city, where the powerful and beautiful Monatin is the proprietrix of an elegant putatorium.The Harlot EscapesMonatin gets more customer than she bargained for.The Harlot DesertsMonatin leaves her putatorium to wage war against her city's enemies...only to return and find the war on her doorstep.Perfect for Her SettingThe Earl of Southford is looking for a new mistress. He interviews Olympia, a courtesan at the height of her powers, a high-flyer famous for refusing any man who cannot satisfy her. Olympia tests him as he has never been tested...except once.

Sujets

• Historical fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Book View Cafe
• Date de parution: 30 juin 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781611389128
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

The Ladies Who Got Away
four short stories
 
Jennifer Stevenson
 
for Rich
ISBN: 978-1-61138-912-8
copyright 2020 by Jennifer Stevenson
Book View Café
Table of Contents The Ladies Who Got Away A Princess of Wittgenstein The Harlot’s Escape The Harlot Deserts How this story came about Perfect For Her Setting About Jennifer Stevenson Find all Jennifer’s novels Copyrights & Credits About Book View Café
A Princess of Wittgenstein
“Now, Ileen, the Penderby residence iscapacious, so you will sleep in your own room, rather than share with the othermaids, as is more common in London. I gather that things were otherwise for youin...Paris?”
“Yes, M’sieur Soames,very different. I am most happy to serve in the house of the great scientist Docteur Horace Penderby.”
“Er, yes. Although it is to Mrs Penderby thatyou owe your position here.”
“Quoi?”
“Mrs Penderby is a founder of the Society fora Broader Definition of Humanity.”
“I assure you M’sieur Soames, I am human.”
“Er, yes. Of course.”
“As are you.”
“I see you are curious. Very well, on this oneoccasion I will satisfy your natural question.”
“Thank you, M’sieur Soames, I should like to be satisfied.”
“Although in future it would be impertinent topursue the matter.”
“Yes, M’sieur Soames.”
“If you would accompany me downstairs. As youhave guessed, Ileen, I am one of Dr Penderby’s automata. He endowed me with theequivalent of an Etonian education and one additional year of Oxford in his ownspecialties, so that I may assist in the laboratory. I have a chassis whichsatisfactorily mimics the human frame, such that visitors are not undulyalarmed by my appearance, and a minute understanding of etiquette, householdmanagement, London society’s practices and customs, in short, everythingnecessary to make the ideal butler for such an establishment as this one.”
“ M’sieur Soames isindeed marvelous.”
“I am also capable of handling the wild beastswhich reside—through this door—in the laboratory, which was once the ballroom.Currently, we have an orangutan, a crocodile, rabbits, agoutis, and smallermammals and lizards. It will be one of your duties to assist me. I trust youare not afraid of God’s creatures?”
“But no. I, too, am one.”
“Er. Of course.”
“And did Docteur Penderby provide you also with a soul?”
“Automata do not require them. I have amandate to which I refer, which aids in my self-direction.”
“But Docteur Penderbyis the author of They Are All Alive —”
“Those pamphlets were penned by Mrs Penderby.It is a topic on which master and mistress...differ.”
“Oh.”
“Do not look so stricken, girl. Mrs Penderbywill discuss your soul, if you choose, as exhaustively as you could wish. DrPenderby is easily satisfied, provided his staff do not faint, scream, orindulge in hysterics above once or twice a week.”
“ M’sieur Soames issatirical.”
“I fear not. We suffer rather a high turnoverof staff. It is the orangutan, principally. He forgets his trousers.”
“He does not mistake the maids for orangutans,does he, M’sieur ?”
“I am gratified to report that he has stoppedshort of such an outrage. Er, Ileen.”
“Yes. M’sieur Soames?”
“Have you—that is to say, you seem to me—er,where are you from originally?”
“Wittgenstein, M’sieur Soames.”
“Fancy. I see. Hm. Thank you, Ileen, that willbe all.”
o0o
“And I told him, ‘Piffle.’ An automaton of onehundred percent synthetic parts is no more nor less a creation of science thanone that combines organic and mechanical elements.”
“And why is that, pray?”
“Don’t try to look crafty, my dear. It doesn’tsuit you. What difference could it possibly make?”
“Indeed, what difference? So the bishop arguedthat to use cadaver parts would be to risk contaminating your automaton with someremnant of the divine spark that once animated the corpse?”
“Not that word at table, my love. Theservants. What must Soames think, or poor Ileen, only here a day?”
“You need not patronize me, Horace. I was yourassistant until—until the first time I became pregnant. I saw many a corpse onthe slab.”
“Quite so, quite so.”
“That was, of course, before you created your own assistant. A more discreet one than I, I amsure.”
“Gwendolyn, you mistake. I treasure yourinterest in my work—”
“If it is silent interest.”
“Not silent!”
“Uncritical, then.”
“You wrong me, Gwendolyn.”
“That will never do.”
“Your womanly scruples are a very necessarycounter-balance to the cold, inquiring mind of a scientist.”
“I don’t object to you inquiring, Horace. Butyou were not used to be cold. I fear that exposure to certain scientificminds—”
“My fellows in the Royal Society are of thehighest character—”
“Do not freeze me, Horace, I beg you. But ifit is not their influence that has chilled you, then whose?”
“No one’s!”
“Then why do you avoid me? If I could have achild, would you—”
“You are imagining things, Gwendolyn.”
“That also will never do. More hot water,please, Ileen?”
“No more for me, thank you. I have—I have ameeting this evening, and must be from home at the supper hour.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t see—oh, what’s the use?”
o0o
“Soames, I shall receive Viscount Whitlake andMr Danton tomorrow evening in the library. And, er, as Mrs Penderby isattending her own meeting from home, it will not be necessary to, er, troubleher with my guest list. You understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Not that the gentlemen are unwelcome here.”
“Far from it, sir.”
“No. Precisely. Well, I’m off. Put brandy andcigars in the library by nine, and see that the fire is well along. Nineo’clock, mind. No earlier. Mustn’t ruffle Mrs P.”
“No, sir. Thank you, sir.”
o0o
“Er, Ileen, have you finished with your dutiesabovestairs?”
“Yes, M’sieur Soames.You see I am bringing the shoes down to the mud room. That is the last?”
“It is. Ileen, I do not like to ask this infront of Cook or the boy, but there are certain matters of routine maintenancewhich, er, I feel sure that your Continental mind will be resilient enoughto—that is, which you may approach in a purely impersonal manner—”
“Of course, M’sieur Soames. Where I come from, the upstairs maid is often required to service themajor domo.”
“Oh, please. You mistake, I assure you. Onewould shrink from—I am not sure an automaton can —er—inshort, here is this oil can. Do you suppose you can reach the back of my neck?It will, I fear, be necessary to remove my collar, for which breach of decorumI deeply apologize.”
“It makes nothing. M’sieur Soames.”
“Thank you, Ileen.”
“This is the hole for me to put the oil?”
“It must be added slowly, one drop at a time.Twenty drops. The oil is very fine, and the mechanism absorbs it slowly.”
“ M’sieur Soames is awork of art. I had not before noticed the hole. M’sieur Soames is synthetic?”
“Nearly. Certain organs function better thanman’s makings.”
“But the limbs? The—the arms?”
“One hundred percent artificial. Ileen, yourarm—”
“It was lost when I died, M’sieur Soames. This one is a substitute. So the skin tone differs.”
“It was not you who died, Ileen. Mrs Penderbylikes us to be correct in our speech. The previous occupant of your body died.”
“No doubt, but I have no memory of anotherbody.”
“Were you not then translated into this one?”
“I do not know, M’sieur .I think not.”
“Do not blush, Ileen. Under Mrs Penderby’sroof you must receive due respect as a full member of the human race. Everyoneis a person here. Do you—are you soulless, then?”
“I—don’t know. I overheard them talking whileI lay on the stone, so I ran away. You are shocked. Will you expose me, M’sieur Soames?”
“Of course not. Merely, I am surprised youwere able to motivate the, er, body before a soul could be installed in it.”
“ M’sieur Soames iswell informed about a process that is illegal in England.”
“The master and his associates are veryinterested in the process. Do you not know whose your body was?”
“I remember nothing. And yet, Ifeel...everything.”
“That must be distressing for you.”
“I contrive.”
“The thought of waking prematurely on the slabin a body so recently mutilated—I can only imagine—”
“There. Twenty drops, and no spills. Does M’sieur Soames bathe? Must the hole be covered? Merveilleuse! And the meat organs, have I said that right?They accommodate satisfactorily in every respect?”
“I apologize if I overstepped, Ileen.”
“ M’sieur Soamesdisarms me. In a manner of speaking. You have said nothing about my color, M’sieur Soames.”
“I shouldn’t dream of passing remarks—”
“I am blue.”
“Er, a very attractive pale blue.”
“But not sufficiently attractive? Je regrette.”
“It was never my intention to make light ofyour situation.”
“Mais non, it is I who make light. If one may not laugh in adversity, life—ordeath—becomes very long indeed.”
“Your fortitude does you credit.”
“Absurde. And now to bed. M’sieur Soames is positive hewishes no additional…service?”
“Ileen, really! You must not speak sosaucily!”
“Oh, we are special, we two.”
“In this respect we are different! Anautomaton is well-educated in the laws of decorum. A—a—”
“Promethean? Zombi? Corpse-monster? How do the English call me? The laws of decorum float outsidemy mind, as it were, in the bubble of my past life. I am aware of them, but Ido not regard them. I feel driven to break them all, now, while I may, so thatwhen—if—I am dragged back into my old class and my old decorum, I have at leastamused myself with some little disobediences.”
“Disobedience is unwelcome in a servant,Ileen.”
“So I perceive. And yet, one may get away witha certain amount of...sauciness!”
“Good night, Ileen.”
“Bon soir, M’sieur Soames.”
o0o
“Good evening, Soames. Did your mistress gooff to her meeting all right, then?”
“Yes, sir. Er, Dr Penderby—”
“Well, Soames? She didn’t ask about mymovements tonight, did she?”
“No, sir. But I discovered a piece of informationthat might interest—”
“About Mrs Penderby? What?”
“No, sir. About the new maid, Ileen. The, er—”
“Promethean. Although with Mrs Penderby out ofthe room I can say corpse-monster if I choose.”
“Sir, she is no