Three

The fire crackled as Caz lifted the carving knife, her hands and forearms covered in the guts of half a dozen pumpkins.

“That’s marvelous,” Elmira said, coming in with a large silver tray laden with steaming mugs and sweet orange bread.

Caz set down the knife and wiped her hands and arms with the damp towel her aunt had brought. She admired her work in the afternoon sunlight slanting through the large mullioned windows.

She never thought she’d be spending her time in the country learning to carve pumpkins, but it was still better than trekking through the copper mine and looking at rocks with her parents–who were always asking her if she needed to stop and take a rest, or if the air was too stiff for her. But she was actually having fun.

Her first pumpkin was passable–a single, misshapen hole through which the candlelight would shine. But after the first few, she had decided to try something more interesting.

“A black cat,” Caz clarified. She inhaled the powerful scent of hot apple with spices.

Chuckling to herself, Caz put her lips to the mug and sampled its contents. The taste exploded on her tongue, and she took a large gulp. “This is amazing,” she muttered, “What is it?”

“Hot apple cider with cinnamon and nutmeg,” Elmira said, sipping her own with an indulgent smile. “It was Jack’s favorite too.”

Caz’s gaze went to the portrait of Elmira’s late husband over the fireplace, The Daguerre himself. His coal-black top hat shadowed his face, which sported a gray grizzled beard. He looked as wily and sharp as Elmira. She gave her aunt a sad smile. “It’s fantastic, I can see why he liked it.”

Elmira cleared her throat and set her own mug back on the tray. “Now, you’re quite good at carving those pumpkins, dear niece, and I don’t want you to think I’m putting you to work, but, have you any interest in helping with the rest of the decorations?”

She couldn’t tell if the heat in her cheeks was from Elmira’s compliment or the warm cider. Pleased, she said, “Sure, I’d love to.”

The scent of hearth fire and mulled spices drifted from the open doors of the modest ballroom when Caz entered an hour later after they cleaned up the pumpkin carving mess. Her eyes were immediately drawn upward to the swaths of sheer black fabric Grimlee and the maid Marla were draping from the silver gilt chandeliers, along with garlands of black and red silk flowers.

Grimlee descended from his ladder with surprising agility after securing his fabric and headed over to the wooden crates stacked by the doors where Caz and Elmira stood admiring the work.

“Wait until it’s done,” Elmira assured her, a bony hand on Caz’s arm. “This is just the beginning.”

The beginning was a cloud of realistic fabric bats suspended from the ceiling over the large fireplace, each suspended on a thread, bobbing in the heat wafting upward; the portraits on the walls draped in the same sheer black fabric as if newly mourned; and pumpkins along with their trailing vines lined the walls, the yellowing leaves and dying vines pinned up on the walls as if they had grown there.

“Fantastic,” Caz said, taking a step toward another portrait of The Daguerre. “Huh,” she said, noticing through the sheer black drape an airship painted prominently in the background behind him.

A sharp crack drew her attention as Elmira took a crowbar to the lid of one of the wooden crates. Her aunt said, “It’s almost suppertime. Why don’t you take a look at the rest of the decorations tomorrow morning, and see if anything catches your fancy? Having a fresh eye might give us that new perspective.”

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast that included kippers and eggs, orange scones, and cold cider, Caz began inspecting the crates. Just as she was pulling out some elaborate lanterns with little golden bone details on the panes, Grimlee arrived with a silver tray. But it didn’t bear any of that hot cider, much to Caz’s disappointment. Instead, a single piece of paper–a telegram addressed to her.

Caz’s heart skipped a beat, imagining something horrible had happened to her parents, an airship crash or worse, but as she picked it up and read the missive, her heart dropped far past her stomach in disappointment.

To: Ms. Caroline (Caz) Coppersdown

From: Mr. Edward Coppersdown

Landed at Angleshire mine successfully, but nothing to look at. Unexpected collapse the morning of our departure. Will take months to re-secure. No workers injured. We return to the solarbelt and will collect you from Daguerre on All Hallows day. ~All our love.

HER MOUTH AGAPE, SHE reread the telegram several times by the cold morning light twinkling in through the mullioned windows. She shivered, pulling her knit cardigan over her chest. But somehow, no matter how many times she reread it, the words remained the same.

So much for finding a big story here in the countryside. And so much for her newfound freedom outside of Soldark. At least she would get to stay for her aunt’s soiree. But Caz had already grown to enjoy Daguerre, and more importantly, not being cooped up in her own home, as she had been for the past seventeen years. But what she would miss most of all, was her aunt.

Elmira strode into the ballroom with the clickety-clack of her sharp-heeled boots, startling Caz, who almost dropped the telegram. She fumbled with it and returned it to the tray Grimlee held, still politely waiting. “Sorry,” she muttered to Grimlee.

Her aunt surveyed the ballroom with relish, her gaze roving over the crates. “Well at least all is going well in here, eh?” she said. “But I’ve just run out of crimson ink in my study–another errand in town.”

Elmira looked her over, her eyes momentarily watching the retreating back of Grimlee with the bad news sitting primly on a platter as he left the room.

“It’s fine,” Caz said. “Well... My parents are coming back early. All Hallows Day, they’ll be here to collect me.”

She turned her back on her aunt when her eyes burned with surprising emotion, and pretended to study the bone lantern she had pulled out of the crate.

Caz bit her lip. Why was she so upset? She hadn’t even wanted to come out to the countryside. But now that her stay was coming to an abrupt end, she found she didn’t want to leave.

“I’d quite been looking forward to having you for the next month,” Elmira said. “Not much to do around here, and it’s always the same company.”

“I’m disappointed too,” Caz admitted, waiting until the burning in her eyes had gone—there was no way she was going to cry over this, and not in front of Elmira, certainly. “I’m used to the same company too,” she joked feebly, turning around.

“Well, we must make the most of it,” Elmira said. “Why don’t I ask Grimlee to bring the car around so you can go to the stationery shop?”

Caz began to tidy up the crates she’d been poking through. “No, I’d like to walk if it’s not too far.”

Elmira gave her a knowing smile. “Why don’t you get yourself something, too? Watson’s has an extensive selection. Just be sure to get a bottle of Crimson Cordial for me.”

Caz nodded, a slight smile forming. Perhaps drowning her sorrows in purchasing new ink and paper would be just the thing she needed.