Magnificent Devices 01 - Lady of Devices

homeless and alone. But then, a fiancée of his would have neither a landau nor a brain to call her own, either.
    This cheered her immensely, and she turned her back on the Blackfriars Bridge and took the corner into Farringdon Street with aplomb. Now came the tricky part. The lamp lighters had obviously not come this far yet, leaving her dependent upon her own head lamps to keep her in the center of the thoroughfare. The mouths of the streets yawned black on either side. The sound of the landau’s engine bounced back at her from the brick and wood surfaces of the buildings and the cobbles of the street, making it sound as though she were three or four engines, not just one. She swerved to avoid men loading kegs on to a cart, and steered back the other way to avoid a knot of people who had clearly just come from the theater. Was she so close to Covent Garden? No, that couldn’t be right. She was supposed to be on Queen Victoria Street, away from the bank. What street was this, exactly?
    Along with keeping track of the thoroughfare and unpredictable human bodies in her path, she now peered into the cone of dim light provided by the headlamps, seeking a street sign. How careless of the city fathers not to provide them. Etching the name of a street into the corner of a building did not help at all in the dark. Ahead, bright lights shone onto the sidewalk, and she heard the subterranean screech of a train.
    A station. That would tell her where she was. In moments, she had come abreast of the station’s front.
    Aldgate. Aldgate Station? That couldn’t be right. Why, that would mean she was blissfully driving down Whitechapel Street in the middle of the night. She was not on Queen Victoria Street at all!
    Oh dear. Oh dear. She had to turn around and get out of here.
    Claire steered to the far side of the street and pushed the steering lever all the way out. At the apex of the turn her front tire bumped up onto the sidewalk in front of the station, but there was no help for it. She couldn’t reverse unless she got out and pushed, and she was not getting out of this vehicle for all the tea in China. Not in Whitechapel, for the love of God.
    Careful. Carefully now. The last thing you want is to dislodge the arrangement of the boiler when you bump back down onto the street. One wheel. Good. Now the oth—
    With a communal howl of triumph, a crowd of black shapes pelted out of the mouth of the Underground station and surrounded the landau.
    “Lookit this beauty, Snouts! We got a pretty ’un this time, ent we?”
    “And a pretty lady to boot. Whatsa matter, lady, want some help unsticking your carriage?”
    “No, thank you,” Claire said as loudly as her desert-dry throat would allow. “Stand out of the way please.”
    “Stand aht the way, please,” mimicked a high voice. “Am I in your way, lady? Wot’ll you give me and my mates to get aht the way?”
    “I shall give you a penny. But you must move first.”
    “Wot else you got, lady? I bet there’s more’n a penny in this pretty carriage.”
    “Don’t touch that!”
    “Lady, I wouldn’ say you was in a position to be dishin’ orders,” said a tall, thin shape with an enormous nose. “Give us what you got and then we’ll think about movin’.”
    “Yeah! What’cha got, lady? Bet there’s plenty for me in here, eh?”
    “Don’t open that! Don’t, I tell you—it’s boiling—”
    Too late. The thug had popped open the landau’s side hood panel, probably thinking it was a repository for riches, and a cloud of steam billowed out of the boiler. With a scream, he fell back, writhing on the ground clutching his burned face with equally burned hands.
    “You bloody rich witch!” screamed someone in the back. “You’ve hurt Jake!”
    With a roar of fury, the entire pack descended on her. Claire just had time to feel her coat ripped from her shoulders when something hard whacked her on the side of the head, and the night whirled around her before she landed hard on the ground.

Chapter 14

    Something dug mercilessly into her ribs. With a groan, Claire cracked open her left eye, and then her right. Her head spun with dizziness and confusion, but she had not been rendered unconscious. At least, she didn’t think so. Under her cheek, dirt grated between her skin and the hard cobblestones, stinking of soot, alcohol, and ancient urine. Revolted, she lifted her head.
    Something poked her in the ribs again. Blindly, she whipped her arm backward, connecting