Viridis - A Steampunk Romance (4 page)

“Shall I get you some breakfast? I can bring it up
to you in the laboratory, if you’ll be working.”

“Thank you, but I really want to get a bit of work
done first. Perhaps in a bit.”

“As you wish, Mum.”

Phoebe continued on her way, her mind already
running through calculations. Although she’d made enough Viridis to
last a typical month, the increase in customers had dwindled the
supply faster than she’d anticipated.

A heavy metal door greeted her at the far end of the
hall, which she always kept locked when she wasn’t working. She’d
had the door reinforced several months back so that the solid oak
door was now plated in heavy brass, thick bolts holding the plates
in place. Pulling out a key she had dangling on a chain around her
neck, she slid it into the keyhole and turned it, satisfied when
she heard the click. Next, she tapped in a complicated series of
numbers into a keypad next to the door, each enameled numerical key
clicking into place to allow her access into her laboratory. As she
touched the last key, she took a step back as a hiss of steam let
loose and the massive gears turned, moving the door to the side and
out of the way.

She took a deep breath, slowly letting it out before
walking into the laboratory. It was always the same, each time she
came here. Though it was now her laboratory, she never ceased to
think of it as her father’s, his ghost here too strong to ignore.
After her mother’s death, the lab had been the place he had always
escaped to, and after his death, it had become her escape
too
.

However, Imogene’s death still had her regularly
running over the calculations recorded in her journal, wondering if
there was something she could have done differently, something she
overlooked. Perhaps if she had been smarter, worked harder, she
could have saved Imogene. Her sister’s death was a guilt she would
always carry with her.

Phoebe pushed the ghosts back into their graves, and
cleared her head, now ready to work. The open space and high
ceilings made the room feel larger than its actual size. Soaring
windows flanked either side of the lab, with her work desk situated
in the center of the room. Row upon row of glass bottles sparkled
in the sunlight that poured in from the windows, including the jugs
full of essential oils she needed to make Viridis.

Crossing to her desk, she picked up her journal and
referenced her formulations. She put on a pair of brass goggles
designed to protect her eyes should one of the liquids splatter or
she get hit with a blast of steam. Pulling down several jugs, she
measured out her ingredients, pouring them into a massive copper
vessel, before wheeling it to the tall tinkering that occupied the
center of the room—the distillery. It was physically taxing work,
especially for someone her size, but she did not like asking for
help when she was still capable, nor did she want others in her
laboratory.

Opening a compartment, she slid the round copper
vessel within, the liquid sloshing around as she connected a tube,
lit the fire, and adjusted the dials for the correct pressure. The
machine groaned to life. She took a step back, a smile upon her
face as she looked at the tinkering Seth had built her. It always
reminded her of a gigantic metal octopus swimming to the bottom of
the ocean— the bulging body had copper tubing coming out of it
every which way, only to coil madly towards the sky, the steam
encircling it like frothy waves.

This one batch of Viridis would be enough to
replenish most of her stock for the club. Then perhaps she could
get back to her research. By changing the concentrations of phenols
and by adding other herbs to the original Viridis recipe, she had
gotten some new—and very interesting—results. It looked as though
the new formula may heighten senses in a way quite different to
Viridis. It would still be months before she perfected it, but only
if she managed to dedicate more time to the project. There was
definite potential for something extraordinary to happen.

Satisfied that everything was working properly, she
slipped off her goggles so they lay dangling around her neck, and
then moved back to the shelves, searching amongst the glittering
bottles. After several minutes, she found the bottle she was
looking for, and grabbing a glass, headed back to her desk.

She wiggled the cork out of the bottle, and poured
out a few tablespoons of the viscous amber liquid. It had been one
of her first herbal formulations and quite simple to make, created
shortly after Seth first started courting her. The tincture, a
combination derived from smartweed, pomegranate seeds, and the seed
head of Queen Anne’s lace, smelled bitter and tasted even worse.
Managing to get it down, she had all but forgotten how horrible it
was. Perhaps someday she would no longer need it, but for now, her
circumstances were not suitable for starting a family.

Of course, these types of herbals had always
existed, for as long as there were people coupling, there were also
people not wanting to get with child. And though they usually did
not persecute women as witches for things as simple as this, her
reputation had already taken enough of a beating, and she thought
it best if it were kept a secret from everyone but Seth. Quite
frankly, she’d much rather not die tied to a stake and engulfed in
flames.

Getting back to work, she paged through the
leather-bound journal, worn with age and use. It was there she kept
all her methods, her observations, her secrets. While the liquid
distilled she jotted down her numbers and measurements for that
day’s batch, knowing it was crucial to keep meticulous notes on
everything she did.

Lost in her work, she was startled when Seth ran a
hand down her back. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you come in.” She
usually left the door ajar when she was working to help with the
fumes. Opening the windows normally created too much of a cross
breeze and chill, slowing down the process in the cold of
winter.

“Working, I see?” He smiled at her, his eyes still
heavy with sleep. “I woke up alone. For a second I thought I was
back in the Outlands, and you had been just a dream.” Seth looked
at her, and she blushed at the thought of what she must look like,
fresh out of bed— her hair disheveled and loose, the outline of her
erect nipples embarrassingly visible through the diaphanous fabric
of her shirt— her body’s response to his mere proximity.

“Come back to bed, Phoebe.” Leaning on her desk, he
reached out and ran his hand down her cheek, his fingers just a
little rough and calloused from his work.

Phoebe swiveled her chair towards him. “I just
started the distillation, and can’t leave it for long. Thought I’d
take a bit of time to run some new calculations. I could have some
breakfast brought up though, if you’re hungry. I could do with a
bite myself.”

She looked up into those turquoise eyes and had the
urge to abandon her work and take him up on his offer. His shirt
was half open and untucked, suspenders dangling neglected at his
sides. Half hidden under the cotton of his shirt was an expanse of
smooth skin over work-hardened muscles, dark hair curling its way
across his chest before trailing in a narrow line down his
abdomen.

“Food wasn’t what I had in mind, but I reckon I’ll
take what I can get.” A smile filled with mischief tugged at his
mouth. Obviously still hoping to change her mind, he pulled her to
him when she stood. He motioned with a tilt of his head to the
tinkering in the center of the room. “How has it been working for
you? Any problems?”

“It’s been working grand. No problems at all.”

Standing before the massive contraption, a smile lit
her face. Indeed, if she had not searched him out to have the
tinkering built, they would have never met. Before she met Seth,
she’d struggled for months with a traditional distillery, trying in
vain to reach the high temperatures she needed, fast enough and
with the precision required to control and maintain the exact
pressure for extraction. When her efforts fell short, she sought
out a tinkerer for help. Seth had come highly recommended and was
considered one of the best, his designs and tinkerings regarded
with the utmost respect.

He’d labored away for months, trying to get the
distillery just right. The result was a one of a kind— a Seth
Elliot original— a masterpiece without which she may not have been
able to accomplish what she had, in so little time.

He had started courting her from the very beginning,
using the tinkering as a guise to spend more time together, though
his excuses were short lived. With many interests in common, they
not only found each other romantically but also developed a deep
friendship. He had been unlike any other man she’d met,
appreciative of her opinions and her mind, encouraging her when she
was ready to give up. Never had he tried to change her or bend her
to society’s norms.

Not long after they met, Seth introduced her to
Gavin and he soon joined their adventures, the three of them
inseparable. Their friendship offered Phoebe a much needed escape
from the reality of her world, a glimmer of normalcy and hope in
what had been a dreary and difficult life.

When he’d finally finished the distillery, Seth had
asked Phoebe to marry him. But with Imogene’s health taking a turn
for worst, she refused his offer, which put a strain on their
previously close bond. Things became even more strained for them
after Imogene’s death. He had tried to be there for her, yet she
had pushed him away in her pain, unable to let him—or anybody—get
close to her, unable to forgive herself for not being able to save
Imogene.

And yet she had been unable to see the distance she
had put between them until it was too late; Seth left for the
Outlands soon after, his commitment made, leaving Phoebe to drown
in regret and despair.

“Will ye not come back to bed, my love?” His fingers
twined around hers, as he pulled her to him, his lips just a
whisper away. Do you know that, for that blasted long year, you— my
memories and your photo— were the only thing keeping me warm in the
arctic cold?”

“You weren’t the only one alone.” She hated to think
of how desperate and lonely she had been. Gavin had been away in
the colonies when her sister died, and Seth’s departure for the
Outlands came only a month after, leaving Phoebe with no one but
her brother. There were days when she couldn’t even muster the
strength to get herself out of bed, and she did not think she would
have survived it if it hadn’t been for Gabriel’s constant
attentions.

Seth nuzzled her ear for just a moment, before his
lips found their way to hers, his kisses soft and sweet as they
stirred in her a heat only he could quench.

“Phoebe, why won’t you marry me?” His question was
barely a whisper in between kisses.

She shook herself free, the moment lost with her
frustration. “We’ve been through this before, Seth.” She turned
away from him, wrapping her arms around herself as if warding off a
sudden chill. It was a discussion they’d had on more than one
occasion.

“Phoebe, I cannot give up the Cause. It’s too
important. You know that. Think of all those that are suffering;
the government and Queen doing nothing to stave off the illness,
the poverty.”

She knew he spoke the truth, and her problem was not
with the Cause, only the way in which he chose to help. “How could
you think that of me? I am not asking that you give up the Cause. I
only want you to help in a way that will not take you away from me
for months at a time and put your life at risk.”

He paced the floor, his frustration evident. “I help
the way I know how. I thought you of all people would understand
that. You’ve seen the faces of the poor, all hope extinguished from
their eyes. It’s the Cause that has finally rekindled that flame,
given them hope for a better life, and it’s the Cause that will
demand change from those in power, whether they want it or not. The
poor have suffered and been oppressed for too long, Phoebe. You
know that.”

“Do you think I don’t understand? Have I not also
helped and done what I can?” Her temper was up in a flash. She had
seen the suffering, had been by his side while they offered what
help they could to those who had nothing.

“Phoebe…”

She felt the air around her shift as he came to
stand behind her, her tears threatening to fall. “I can’t do it,
Seth. I watched my father struggle alone after my mother’s death.
It was that loneliness that slowly killed him, tore him apart. I
refuse to take that path willingly. You were gone over a year, and
I cannot do it again. I’ve lost so much…I couldn’t stand to lose
you, too. And I should not have to.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.” He ran his hand
down the length of her arm.

“You know they’ll keep sending you on missions as
long as you let them. I’d never ask you to give up the Cause— but
there are other ways.”

As much as she wanted him to stay, she needed that
decision to be his own. She would not risk him blaming her for
tying him down when he’d be happier leading a different life. She
had no tolerance for others telling her what to do, and she would
not be a hypocrite.

He had always promised to be by her side, and though
she may have pushed him away after Imogene’s death, it had still
been his choice to leave for the Outlands, his promise broken,
though she could not say it was entirely his fault.

“I give the only way I know how.” Frustration, hurt
and anger were all evident in his voice. “Phoebe, please. Why can
you not see that? I would give it all up if it would make you
happy, but I cannot believe that is what you truly want. Do you
want the Cause to fail? For the innocent to continue to
suffer?”

Angry and incredibly hurt that he would think her so
selfish, she spat, “How can you say that?” She turned to look into
his eyes, her heart aching. “Do you think I’d stand idly by and
watch others suffer? Do you not think I’ve done my share to help in
your absence?” If he didn’t already know that she’d do her part to
help, then what hope did they have?