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The first word Ruth would use to describe London was crowded.
That wasn’t a good sign.
The second would be putrid, which wasn’t any better. Of course, all cities had a certain stench about them, but she was used to Newcastle. She wasn’t sure if London smelled objectively worse, but she knew that it was different, which was enough to upset her.
Between the oppressive atmosphere and her lingering nausea from the train, Ruth was close to tears.
She hovered on the step of the train, waiting until the crowds on the platform dissipated a bit before getting off.
“It’s King’s Cross,” Thomas told her gently as he realised what she was doing. “It’s never quieter than this.”
Ruth made a small noise of annoyance in the back of her throat before steeling herself and stepping down onto the platform. She distracted herself from the bustle around her by focusing on the large mechanical arms unloading the luggage from the train.
Watching the gears turn was calming, even if she couldn’t help but criticise the design as she looked it over.
Clunky. Inelegant. Clumsy.
She wondered if there was a single engineer besides herself with even the slightest inclination towards style.
Luckily, Thomas predicted her discomfort, and had a carriage waiting for them. At the front was a mechanical driver, if such an unwieldy contraption could even be considered a driver. It clearly directed the horses, but they had made no effort to make it look even vaguely humanoid.
It looked like a box with metal, spider-like arms out of the side, and a speaker on the front.
“LORD CHAPELSTONE,” it greeted with a grating voice that made Ruth tighten her fists around the fabric of her skirt.
“Yes,” Thomas replied. “You are our ride?”
“INPUT NOT RECOGNISED. PLEASE RESTATE REQUEST.”
Ruth couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “It’s a Fralsen, Thomas. Fifth model, by the look of it. You would have an easier time trying to converse with a stray cat.”
“Then what shall we do?”
“Get in and hope it takes us somewhere where I can lie down,” Ruth told him firmly. She was quite fed up and just wanted to curl into bed.
Thomas nodded, acquiescing, before helping her into the carriage.
The driver thankfully managed to take them to Thomas’ house in the city without any issue. Ruth’s travel sickness had returned by the time they left the carriage, despite the short journey.
Ruth noted that said house was modest compared to home, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to be inside.
“Workshop?” she asked as soon as she was through the door. Her tiredness immediately fled as she remembered Thomas promising her a workshop worthy of her talents.
Her uncle smiled. “In just a moment. I want to introduce you to someone.”
As soon as the door closed behind them, a young woman hurried down the stairs. She was wearing a plain brown dress that was just a few shades lighter than her dark skin. Her black hair was tied back, forming a fluffy cloud to the back of her head. She didn’t look older than sixteen.
“Ruth, this is Ivy. When I first visited London, she approached me and begged to work with The Owl.”
“So, she knows?”
“No, I thought I would leave that up to you. But I won’t be here all of the time, so I suggest a trade. The Owl takes her on as an apprentice and has someone to talk to about his inventions, and she makes sure that he doesn’t starve himself.”
Ruth smiled, though it was a little strained. She wasn’t too sure that she wanted someone around her at all times, yet she had to admit that it would be nice to have some help from someone whose eyes wouldn’t glaze over when she got too deep into the minutia of her designs.
“I suppose it is not too disagreeable an arrangement,” Ruth said, turning to Ivy. “Could you show me to the workshop?”
Ivy nodded, showing her up the stairs until they reached the attic.
“This is the workshop, Milady,” Ivy said in an almost painful cockney accent. That would take some getting used to.
Before she could dwell too much on it, however, Ruth spotted the selection of work benches and top-of-the-line tools. She had been good at making do when she lacked something, but the idea of not having to made her grin. How much time it would save!
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Ruth cried as she hurried back to where Thomas had just brought in their luggage, finding the case with her designs. She took as many as would fit in her arms before running back upstairs to affix them to the large board on the wall of her workshop.
“When will The Owl arrive?” Ivy asked, though Ruth didn’t hear her, as she was too absorbed in deciding which project to start first.
“He just did,” Thomas told her with a smile. “I suggest getting some tea for you and Lady Ruth. She is always more talkative when there is tea.”