Chapter Eighteen

Summer, 1895

London, England There was a knock on the door. “Come in!” Shirley called.

The door opened and Arlene, one of the maids, stepped in. “Excuse me, my lady, but the architects are here.”

My lady. She did not think that would ever stop sounding foreign to her ears. It was strange to think that she had a title now, let alone a title that she would have to answer to for the rest of her life.

“Thank you, Arlene,” she said. Lifting herself out of her office chair, Shirley walked slowly to the door. She then left her office for Griffin’s down the hall. She tried to enjoy moving on her own while she could. Her belly was not noticeable now, but soon it would be, and when it was, she would not be able to do anything but lie in bed all day and wait for the baby to arrive.

She hoped it was a girl. She wanted to name it Lucinda Eleanor Avondale, after the two dear friends she had loved and lost last year.

***

A lot had occurred after the Hunting Lodge had burned down, the first being that Griffin could no longer move his legs and needed a rolling chair to get around. The second, occurring in the Closer Village about a week after the fire and while Griffin was trying to get used to being chair-bound for the rest of his life, had been less upsetting and just as life-changing.

While Griffin had been pushing himself in his chair through the village square to get used to it, and Shirley had watched on in case anything happened to him, a man in a suit and bowler hat had approached them. The man, a barrister named Mr. Neville Castle, introduced himself as the late Sir Joseph’s attorney and had come to them to discuss the late baronet’s will. When asked why the both of them, and not just Griffin, were needed, Mr. Castle had said, “Because he has named you both as his heirs. And you, Ms. Dobbins, have been named his natural heir.”

What followed in the back room of the village’s inn had left both Shirley and Griffin’s minds reeling. According to Mr. Castle, Sir Joseph had become convinced that Shirley was his daughter by blood much earlier than Shirley had realized, before even the first live experiments with the Engine. Thus convinced, he had taken steps to ensure that she would be taken care of in case of his demise. Normally, England’s bastardy laws would have prevented her from inheriting any property. Thus, the Hunting Lodge, all the surrounding property, and all finances and holdings in the baronet’s name would have passed to Griffin, Sir Joseph’s only remaining legitimate relative. A total of a million pounds in land, cash, and stocks were at stake, more than Shirley had ever thought to make in a lifetime.

“However, I was able to find some loopholes to the laws,” Mr. Castle had explained, “and so long as Mr. Avondale signs a notarized document that he will not contest the will, and you sign a document stating you are Sir Joseph’s natural daughter, you can still inherit the property.”

“I do not plan to contest the will,” Griffin had quickly stated. “I will sign whatever you want me to.”

Mr. Castle nodded. “And you, Miss Dobbins?”

Shirley had thought about it for a minute. Finally, she sighed and said, “It’s possible Sir Joseph was my father. I know he was going into London at the time my mother would have gotten pregnant. She never said who my father was. And he did say he had found something out right before he…right before he died. At the very least, I know he thought of me as his daughter. And…and I would be lying if I said I did not feel as if he were a father to me.”

In the end, they had both signed the papers. And like that, Shirley Dobbins, who had grown up dirt poor in the slums of Whitechapel and Spitalfields with an alcoholic mother and had worked as a maid with the goal of someday becoming a head housekeeper, had inherited a million pounds in land, cash, and stocks. She would never have to work again. Not unless she wanted to, anyway.

Mr. Castle had pocketed the papers in his briefcase and had then said, “As for the title of the Baronet of Hunting, Sir Joseph intended for that title to go to you, Mr. Avondale.”

Griffin was surprised. As far as he had known, his uncle had not cared for him at all. His uncle had, in fact, tried to kill him during the height of his madness. To think he had been given anything in Sir Joseph’s will, let alone the title of baronet, must have been quite the shock. “He did?”

Mr. Castle had nodded. “Provided, of course, some minor caveats: you have to marry Ms. Dobbins, and you have to sign a prenuptial agreement stating you will not lay claim to Ms. Dobbins’ fortune or property after you are married. And you must be married within a year of Sir Joseph’s death.”

That decision had required a bit more discussion. But after twenty minutes alone, Shirley had called for Mr. Castle to return to the back room for their decision.

A week later, Griffin and Shirley were married in the Closer Village’s church. And thus Mr. Griffin Avondale became Sir Griffin Avondale, Baronet of Hunting, and Shirley Dobbins became Lady Shirley Avondale, wife of the Baronet of Hunting.

***

Despite her many reservations, Shirley found that married life was not so bad. Granted, having money to attend to all her and her husband’s needs helped. But beyond that, life bound to another person could be quite pleasant. She and Griffin had a good relationship, they kept out of each other’s space when one or the other needed it, and, although Shirley did most of the work due to Griffin’s injuries, their marital relations were more than satisfactory.

And at night, when the nightmares came to them and made sleep uneasy, they took what comfort they could in each other’s arms. For that, above all else, Shirley was grateful. If she had to be married to anyone, she was glad it was someone who not only understood what horrors flitted through her mind but shared them as well. It wasn’t much, but it meant the world to her. Especially on the worst nights.

Not to say that their life was entirely without problems. For one thing, Sir Joseph’s will had stated that Shirley and Griffin had to live in the Hunting Lodge at least six months out of the year. Which was difficult due to the Hunting Lodge having burned down, but the language of the will had stated that if the building were to become so badly damaged that a new one should be built, one should be built with all due haste.

So, Shirley had bought a townhouse in London for them, had hired a staff and a team of architects, and had plans drawn up for a new building. Not just newly built, but new. New layout, new architectural styles, new everything. It would be a home for them, one without the taint of the Eden Engine or the Pure Terror lying about it. They might even build the Lodge in a new spot on the estate grounds, if the surveyors felt that was more beneficial than the original spot.

As long as it was new and different, Shirley would be satisfied. Already not a day went by that she didn’t think about those she’d lost at the Lodge. She could not go into a kitchen without thinking of Nellie, who would have someday been a great chef herself. She could not change in and out of her fine new clothes without thinking of Lucinda, who had once helped her change out of soiled clothes, and with whom Shirley wished she could have gotten to know better as a friend.

And, of course, she could not look at a science tome or think about the innovations being made every day without thinking of Sir Joseph. Every day, she thought of him, how he had gone from just another employer to her employer and teacher, and then had become something of a father figure to her. Now, he was her father. Legally speaking, anyway. She was still unsure if Sir Joseph was her real father. All she had to go on was his insistence that he was, and that might have only been the ravings of a man driven mad by the Pure Terror.

Regardless, she hoped he was. Because while Sir Joseph had brought her a lot of heartbreak, he had also opened her world and given her so much as well. If he was her father, then what he had given her was all the more special. And when their new home was completed, she would be sure to put up a portrait of Sir Joseph somewhere in the building. Just to remind her of all she’d gone through and all she had gained because of him.

***

Later that evening, as they sat reading in their bed on the ground floor, Griffin put his book down and said, “Have you decided which company you would like to invest in?”

Shirley shrugged and saved her place in the science journal she had been reading.

“Not yet,” she said, scratching Albedo’s ears. The cat, now much bigger than she had been a year ago, enjoyed snuggling between Shirley and Griffin when they lay in bed. Unless, of course, they were having marital relations, in which case she would retire to her bed in the corner of the room and remain there for the night. “I know there are plenty of science-related companies and institutions I could choose from. And they all look promising. But deciding which one to invest in is proving difficult. Especially since there is no way to tell which one will last more than a year. And some of these so-called ‘brilliant men’ think because I’m a woman and I have a lazy eye that I’m either an idiot or easy to flatter.”

Since they had moved into their London residence, Shirley had been looking for something to occupy her attention and pour her energy into. After having been a maid and a laboratory assistant, retiring into the boring routines of what was considered a “proper” British wife sounded boring. And as she had the funding and the freedom to pursue her own interests, she decided she would.

Unfortunately, she doubted anywhere would hire her as a laboratory assistant, even if they did believe she had worked for Sir Joseph on cutting edge sciences and technologies. And now that she was a baronet’s wife, becoming a maid was out of the question. But, from reading financial journals, Shirley had found a new interest: business. And as she was learning, she might have a hidden knack for that as well.

Thus, she was seeking to invest in businesses researching and utilizing the latest advances in science and technology. Though as she had stated to Griffin, finding the right business had proven difficult.

“Nobody ever said intelligent men and women cannot be fools,” Griffin replied. “But I’m sure you’ll find one that meets what you’re looking for eventually. And when you do, the science and business worlds will not know the tidal wave that hit them.”

Shirley smiled. “Thank you. How has the new drill business been?”

Griffin had decided, soon after their wedding, that he had no intention of living a life of leisure, even if Shirley was willing to let him live that life. Instead, with a wedding gift of ten-thousand pounds, he had set about founding a drill company. His hope was to build his new company up so that it would one day rival the one his father had founded.

“Though I’ll be happy if it is just successful,” Griffin had admitted to Shirley when he had proposed the idea to her. “After all I’ve lost in this life, I could live with that.” The look that had passed over his face when he had said that had been so forlorn, Shirley had spent a good amount of the day, as well as the night, comforting him.

“Well, I’ve finally found a site to build the facilities on,” he said. “According to Mr. Leopold, my father’s old board is terrified of the sort of company the new Baronet of Hunting is planning to set up and is trying to put pressure where they can to keep me from purchasing the lot. Which, of course, only makes me want to try harder.”

“You seem to enjoy the idea that they fear you,” Shirley observed.

Griffin shrugged. “Not really. In truth, I hate the idea that they fear me. After everything we’ve been through, I would hate to be anyone’s object of terror. But I enjoy the challenge of outsmarting them. It’s like a chess game, though I am no good at chess.”

Shirley laughed. “Is that why you won’t let me play chess with you? Because you’re terrible at it?”

“Well, after you beat Mr. Leopold on your first try, and then on the next three games, why would I want to embarrass myself?”

Shirley and Griffin laughed together, and then they kissed. As they pulled apart, Griffin said the three words Shirley had heard from him so many times: “I love you.”

Shirley replied with the three words she had only recently gotten used to saying: “I love you.”

What followed next sent Albedo to her bed in the corner. Later, as they lay spooned in bed, Griffin’s head resting in the groove where her neck met her shoulder and his hands on her growing belly, his breath soft and slow with sleep, Shirley watched the dying embers in the fireplace. She wanted to make sure none of the ash would come to life and form into the figure of Cutbush or anything else that terrified her.

Only when the embers had died and nothing appeared before her did she finally allow herself to fall sleep.