THE GREAT AIRSHIP PARADE had all of lower London mafficking about like a herd of wild horses. Wylie stepped back from the window and stood next to the bed that had been her father's. She straightened the bedclothes for the millionth time and wished she could take his aging hand in hers just once more.
It killed her to know that his body was buried with others of her same station in life. It was quite possible grave-robbers had already dug it up and stolen his shoes, and maybe even his clothing. It made her feel good, though, to know that the little money she'd been able to save had been enough to buy him a decent coffin.
She'd even been able to afford a real priest, and even though only a few people from the tiny Anglican Parish of Lugwallow attended, she was content, knowing she wasn't alone in the cemetery as they lowered him into the ground. She'd done right by him; that was all she could have hoped for.
"I do wish you were able to see what I see, father," Wylie spoke out loud, wishing he could hear her. "The cavalcade of airships is simply brilliant this year." Her eyes teared up unexpectedly, and she wiped the droplets away. She knew it was brought on by the realization that they would never again share the joy and awe of watching the annual Airshow together. The Airshow was indeed one of the best things about living in their poor little town. They had the finest view of it without dealing with a cluster of Londonites tallying about.
"All right, father, I'm off to tend to Lord Adrian's horses; I shall return before nightfall," she said to the empty bed. How many times had he chided her for lollygaggin' about Dobbinsturn when she was late returning from the stable?
She'd always countered, "But how else am I to find a worthy suitor?" to which he'd jokingly replied a time or two, "Perhaps if you didn't smell like a stable, a suitor would come to you," and her reply was always the same, "If he's a worthy suitor, he will not mind such things." Then she would giggle and kiss him gently on his wrinkled forehead.
"That's the kind of talk that will scare them all away," he would whisper weakly, always smiling, always teasing. He continued teasing right up until the day he died. She sighed heavily, leaving his room and closing the door behind her.
"I miss you, father."
She grabbed her Wellingtons, sliding the worn rubber over her straight-legged trousers. To an outsider, the boots were past their prime, but to Wylie, they were protection from the manure and straw that poked her legs. There was another reason she couldn't part with them though she would never admit out loud that the old boots were her prized possession which once belonged to Lord Adrian.
Wylie shrugged off the sudden thought of him, and pinned up her wild, untamed ginger hair in a loose braid, then slid her hand-fashioned goggles over the top of her head, adjusting the mini-periscope that had come loose from its clip. A carefree glance in the aged antique mirror in the entryway told her that her goggles were slightly off-kilter. She straightened them, sucking in a deep breath.
I must find the strength to get through today.
She traced her fingers over the goggles, pausing on the worn leather sides. They needed new straps and to be re-sewn. Too much time had gone by since she'd shown them the attention they deserved.
There was a soft spot in Wylie's heart for her goggles. She'd hand-sewn them using bits of leather from an old pair of her father's boots whose soles had finally come undone. Then scrounging about and using her meager earnings, she purchased the lenses, three on the right for different magnification levels and two on the left, specially made for seeking out the constellations. Dark brass adorned the eye frames and the periscope clip as she had a long-standing affinity for dark brass.
She would cherish them even more now as her father had been so proud that she created them on her own. It was perhaps the last thing he'd praised her for, and his approval always meant the world to her. She grabbed her hip pouch, pulling it over her petite frame, so it rested snugly on her side, as she stepped out into the brisk morning air.
The door banged shut behind her, driven by the cool wind swirling about. The crumbling old door with the aging brass knob barely caught on the lock. Her home was in desperate need of repair, but it had been all she could do to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads lately.
Her father's medicine took most of her meager stable girl earnings month after month. She never complained though since it was much better to have him still alive and breathing for the time left to him. Perhaps now that her father had passed on, it would do her some good to fix up their home. It was hard for her to imagine ever giving it up. As long as she was there, she could visit his bedroom and breathe deep of his fading presence. It didn't bother her that she may die a spinster with no real hope of love or family.
"Come now, Wyles. No need to think upon such things," she told herself out loud as she focused on the hours' walk ahead of her into the grand Parish of Dobbinsturn, to Lord Adrian's estate. Perhaps if Adrian were not a Lord, or she not just a mere stable hand, he would make a lovely suitor. She was quite content to replace sad thoughts of her father's absence, and negative thoughts of being alone, with images of Lord Adrian's lovely, chiseled face, and lively eyes. His eyes were her favorite feature by far.
His bewitching gray-eyed gaze tripped her up more than once, causing a soft pink to caress her cheeks before she realized she'd paused in her work just to stare at him. She refused to let herself forget that she would never be fit for a man like him. Of course, it was true that the gentle-natured Lord Adrian was already betrothed to Lady Judith, her persnickety, but gloriously wonderful, nearest and dearest friend.
How Wylie both adored and felt jealous of Lady Judith Ukridge. The two of them had been friends for ages, to Lord Jameston's dismay. Judith's father made no attempt to hide his distaste for the peasant girl whenever she came to call. Even though he was one of the most well-respected men in all of Dobbinsturn Parish, and even most of London, Wylie found him to be a bit of a mean ol' reprobate, and she never hid her opinion of him either. The sudden turning of her thoughts to that vile man reminded Wylie that perhaps she should call upon Lady Judith before heading to the stables.
Judith tried her best to comfort her when Nicolas Petford passed away, but Judith's father forbade her to attend the funeral. He insisted that his daughter never be seen in such a place as the lowly Parish of Lugwallow. This only heightened Wylie's dislike for the awful man all the more, but regardless, the young ladies managed to keep a close friendship.
Judith's home was a bit out of her way, which Wylie relished as her time spent in Dobbinsturn was always too short. Any excuse to stay longer on its cobblestone streets filled her with happiness. As she approached the familiar cream-colored mansion, it took her breath away as always. Its grandness never ceased to amaze her, with its octagon pillars and oversized windows looking out onto the bustling streets of one of the loveliest parts of London.
Wylie took a deep breath and ascended the elegant marble steps Lord Jameston Ukridge had specially commissioned. He was a boastful man, and from the day she first met him, he often spoke of his wealth. After all, he was one of London's most sought-after airship architects. He was responsible for designing nearly half of the queen's air fleet, which he seldom let anyone forget.
After Judith's mother passed from consumption, her father set aside his career to care for Judith. Muddling about at home, he'd developed an interest in houses for sale, which in turn resulted in his selling houses as a business. He even, as he'd earnestly stated to her, would go so far as to help new business owners acquire land and loaned them money to build on the property. It wasn't long before he purchased his own building to open a bank. He called it Ukridge Business and Loan and became even more prosperous. Another fact that he never let Wylie forget.
Reaching the first step, she knocked gently on the door and waited patiently for someone to answer. Shortly the curtain parted at a window to her left, and there was her best friend peeking out, waving and smiling at her.
"Darling Judith. God love her," Wylie waved and smiled back, adjusting her leather vest over her waistline, and adjusting her utility belt, with its multiple pockets and gadget holders, resting snugly against her hips. The door swung open, and Hildreth Mackinson gave her a most unwelcome glare. She turned her back on the guest without even so much as a second glance at Wylie, which made her laugh.
"Oh, come now, Hildreth. Still don't fancy me, darling?" The sound of feet hurriedly stamping away was the only response.
"Oh, my dear Wylie. Have you come to send my house into a tizzy?" Judith teased, but the gleam of something calamitous flashed in her eyes.
"You know that is my greatest joy," Wylie teased back, hugging her friend. Her stomach flipped unsettlingly. Something about Judith's voice warned her to be worried, but she could not fathom the reason. When they stepped away from each other, they both remained smiling, but there was tension so thick it could be cut with a chiv. "I see your housekeeper has not let her fondness for me get in the way of her household duties," she winked at Judith, slipping her thumbs behind her belt for comfort.
"I'm afraid that is the least of your worries, dear friend." A million scenarios ran through Wylie's mind, though they all seemed a bit unmitigated. She was letting her imagination get away with her
"What, Judith? What is it?"
"Not here. Not now. I know you have only just put your father in the ground, but terrible things are afoot. You must go! I will find you!" With that, the one person in the world who made Wylie feel like she wasn't alone was pushing her onto the porch. When she tried to protest, Judith's eyes welled up with tears. "I promise, I will explain! Go!" Without ceremony, Judith shoved Wylie roughly outside and slammed the door, leaving her shocked and bewildered by her friend's behavior.