Steamy Punk (closed)

[Otto26]

Eustace noted the publican's lingering gaze and smiled broadly at the man when his gaze left the lovely Carolina and found Eustace's eyes upon him. Eustace tipped his hat to the man and then turned his back upon him. The room was as full as it had been before and with most of the same people. They seemed a fairly respectable mix. Of course, in Eustace's opinion, that simply meant that they probably committed the sort of crimes that didn't require brawn.

A sudden thought took him and he checked the papers beneath his coat, fingers assuring him of their continued presence. He half-smiled, amused at the instinct but, at the same time, knowing it was necessary. It would not do to underestimate Carolina. And if her brother was cut from the same cloth...

The possibilities were intriguing. The chest in Mexico was unreachable at present, but the one in London.... Yes, intriguing.

He estimated that five minutes had passed and took a pocket watch from his vest and consulted it to add weight to his estimate. Smiling broadly at the Irishman behind the bar, he mounted the steps to the second floor and walked down the hallway to the door marked with the number 6.

He inserted the key and opened the door walking in.

 

[laceandcogs]

Eustace walked in on a remarkable conversation. Though his understanding of the lyrical, fluid tongue may be limited, the tones were universal.

George's was firm, angry, strident, aggressively protective. "I cannot -believe- you, Carolina. You are shameful- shameful! You left with him, let him take you god-knows-where to potentially perpetrate lord-knows-what..." A wordless yelp of rage emerged from the other side of the bedroom door, where George had barricaded himself in- as much for Carolina's safety as his own.

And Carolina, true to role, adopted the sweet, singsong pleading arches of a little sister caught with her arm up to the elbow in the cookie jar. Sighting Eustace, she winked heavily and leaned against the bedroom door with a wicked smile. "Come on, Georgie! Nothing happened. My no-good scrawny neck is unwrung, my innocence unsundered." Another wink, and a saucy tilt to her hips as she made rambling gestures with her hand for Eustace's benefit.

A noise most accurately described as a groaning scoff emerged from the wrong side of the door, followed by a breathless series of curses that required very little translation. While she waited for George to tire himself out, Carolina caught Eustace's gaze- and smiled slowly, wickedly.

With deliberate slowness, Carolina began a shadowplay. Rolled hips and an arched back, her delicate hand tossed to her forehead in a gesture of distress. She kept those mismatched, feline eyes on him as her free hand stroked slowly, hungrily over the curve of her hip, gripped savagely at the material of her blouse.

She tossed her head to the side in feigned horror and resumed speaking to George, even as she kicked one foot back against the door and leaned forward at the waist. "Really, Georgie, it's not so bad. He has a machine I think you'd be interested in..."

A pause. Carolina watched Eustace as she continued her wicked, salacious game, the gripping hand now unfastening her shirt one button at a time. Arching her throat, Carolina pressed her advantage with both men.

"A machine, Georgie. It's magnificent. It has marks, Georgie, marks and gears and I just know that it's important. It's a mystery! And he wants our help. You're so brilliant, George, you could figure it out quick smart, and we could have something to -do-, something to do other than gamble and fight and lie around."

Corset fully exposed, Carolina gathered her hair off the back of her neck and gripped it in a fist, rocking her hips back against the door in a rather masterfully executed mimicry of a truly forceful fuck. Still speaking in those soothing, ego-stroking words, Carolina licked her lower lip with seductive slowness.

"Won't you just come out and talk to him, Georgie? He can tell you more about it, and if you still don't like it after you hear him out, we don't have to do anything." Carolina rolled her shoulders and tossed her head wildly, facial expressions parodying a woman in the throes of pleasure.

"I'm afraid I don't speak either 'charlatan' or 'rogue', Carolina. Perhaps you can translate." George's voice remained cold, but no longer angry- his interest was piqued.

Carolina grinned wickedly, thrashing her hips and allowing her whole lithe body to shudder and arch. Refastening her shirt, she stood, gave Eustace the "ok" sign, and made her voice chipper and cheerful. "Of course, Georgie! I'm trilingual- I speak charlatan, rogue, -and- harlot!"

Suddenly the gracious hostess, Carolina swept her arm, offering the couch to Eustace. Sotto voce, she directed her comment to Eustace as she claimed one of the armchairs, kicking her legs over the side- "Enjoy the show, Mr. Browne? I have always thought it was rude to leave people out of conversations. I couldn't bear to think you were bored."

 

[Otto26]

He watched Carolina's display with eyes that narrowed slightly. He could easily imagine their bodies slapping wetly against each other, breathing raggedly, choking on the musk of sex. He had obviously miscalculated; he should have raped the minx and left his marks. Though her words were incomprehensible to him, her tone was not.

'I rather think she could be caught standing over a corpse with the bloody knife in her hand and the victim proclaiming her his killer and make a totally believable protestation of innocence,' he thought. 'Any marks I might have left she could have explained away.' His cane tapped the floor rhythmically, quite un-noticed by him.

Still, there was the promise her eyes and body carried. And he would hold her to that promise, and to a good deal more than that promise if he had his way. He usually did.

He walked over to the chair where she lounged. "Not bored, Miss Bonnechance. Never bored with you," he responded. He extracted the roll of papers from his coat, bent over, and handed them to her. As she took them his hand rose to her throat and his lips found hers. He kissed her hard and then took her lower lip roughly between his teeth. He held her for a moment before releasing her, his eyes never leaving hers as he took a seat and made himself comfortable.

"I surmise that you are upset, Mister Bonnechance. I assure you that your sister's virtue is safe," he called out. "But only for the moment," he quietly added for Carolina's benefit. "If you'd care to give us a little more time alone, however, I'll see if I can manage to rectify the situation. Or you might wish to take a look at these sketches of the device."

 

[laceandcogs]

Such promise in that kiss, such threat in that whisper. Carolina allowed Eustace no more than a tip of her head, the sort of arched brow and half-smile that signals more an appreciation of a fellow professional than approval. Slinking lower in her chair, Carolina yielded to comfort- one that had a great deal to do with the fact that George was entering the room.

His shirtsleeves were rolled up over surprisingly muscled forearms, his breeches rumpled. He was in his stockinged feet, though he had taken the time to strap on the holster of that improbably massive gun, letting the smooth walnut handle rest against his ribcage.

Despite the fact that he had been woken, and unpleasantly, George's eyes held a great deal of sharpness. His face was a regal, rather attractive blend of his heritages- where Carolina possessed the delicate and striking features of her mother, George was composed of the more rough-hewn, broad features of their father. He had an emperor's nose, straight and slightly narrow, wide and sharp cheekbones that sculpted precisely into a high, unlined forehead. Eyes of an even, dark brown, with a much more prominent fold than Carolina's, contained an unusually sharp intelligence. He had a light, almost delicate jaw, well-muscled. Though he was a slender man, only lightly muscled, he had a look of determination- and pride- that may make him quite the worthy adversary in a fight. He was, in short, a classic male beauty, the stuff statues are made to emulate. And he was very, very irritated.

"You'll have to excuse the shortness of my manners, Mr. Browne. Being awakened by my sister, hellbent on a new adventure or swindle, is a frequent happenstance. One would think I would be used to it by now."

Carolina rolled her mismatched eyes so hard it nearly hurt to watch. Theatrics, of course, were another behavior of his sister's that George had become inured to.

"You have drawings of the device, Mr. Browne. I should very much like to study them a moment before we make our decision."

Despite the calm, collected air, the deliberateness with which George verbally insisted his share in the mission was telling. Also, of course, false. The decision was made, both by Carolina's determination and George's curiosity. Though he made no move toward Eustace, waiting to be presented with the drawings, his slender inventor's hands tensed slightly. Eagerly.

 

[Otto26]

"Oh, by all means, Mister Bonnechance. By all means." He raised his cane and indicated Carolina, lounging on the chair like a malicious feline 'Or is that,' he thought to himself 'redundant?'

"Your sister has the drawings. Regrettably the device is lost to us. It's probably lost to mankind as well. The last I saw of it a thief was taking it over the side of a ship in the Caribbean. I rather doubt he survived the storm as he was injured and didn't have a boat."

He watched as George took the roll of papers from Carolina's hands.

"I was able to make some extensive sketches of the device, however. Crude, I admit, but perhaps sufficient to the task of determining how it was meant to function? I ask because I believe it's possible to find the location this device came from. I mean to do that, and then I mean to travel there and discover what else there is to find."

He suspected he was talking to himself now. The man had unrolled the papers and was leafing through the layers with an almost feverish intensity. Eustace turned his eyes to Carolina.

"Your lovely sister had indicated you might be interested in such an undertaking. I would compensate you for your efforts, of course. Which of you," he asked curiously, "will be making that decision?"

 

[laceandcogs]

If it bothered Carolina to conceal the truth of the device's existence from her brother, it didn't show. Her eyes remained utterly cool, her smile eager and wicked. "Hellbent" seemed a terribly apt adjective when applied to Carolina- though if Hell was where she was bound for, there would be many eager to exchange their tickets and follow the party down.

"We would make the decision together, of course, Mr. Browne. My brother and I are partners." The assurance was delivered airily, casually, though Carolina definitely caught the intended effect of keeping George off-step. Eustace merited very, very careful watching- so fortunate, then, that he wasn't hard to look at.

George was either satisfied with Carolina's answer, or lost in the diagrams- and by the wrinkle of concentration on his brow and the stillness of his body save for the sharp eyes, it was likely the latter. He did not move for several moments, devouring the diagrams with his eyes until it seemed he must have memorized them.

Finally he sat back and looked at Carolina. Though no words were exchanged, a vivid and explosive conversation passed between their eyes.

It was George who spoke. "We are interested in your proposal, Mr. Browne. When should we be ready to depart tomorrow?"

Carolina had a question of her own, one of deep personal concern. With a wrinkle of distaste to her pert nose, she leaned forward to catch Eustace's eyes. "And do I have to wear a dress?"

 

[Otto26]

Eustace smiled, a tad thinly, to be sure, but with genuine humor. "Oh yes, please, Miss Bonnechance. In addition to being essential in the next step in our endeavor, I simply cannot miss the opportunity to see you out of those concealing clothes."

****

He led the way by the light of a dawn that cast a red glow over the entire city. The red light of the sun was deepened by the light, and the smoke, of the furnaces and forges in their destination. True, the Order of St. Elegius did not engage in large scale commerce, but neither were they academics. Their order was founded by grants made by goldsmiths to their patron saint. As those smiths had, over time, become master mechanical craftsmen, the order had changed. They recruited their members from the mechanics, they took the donations, gifts, and tithes that came in, and they returned as much knowledge as they gathered. Most workshops, even those of Jews and Protestants, had some small shrine to St. Elegius. And on his festival day they sponsored dinners and shows, and always, always had a brother of the Order there to offer a blessing upon the gathering.

In New Orleans, with its large ironworks, there was an entire chapterhouse of the order. It was located amidst the factories and, from the outside, indistinguishable from the genuine factories around it. The interior...

They gained access via the chapel. This room was open to the public and there was, in fact, a line to get in. Most of those waiting were ironworkers themselves, though a few wore the neater clothing of mechanics and one or two looked to be craftsmen of high station. Most went in and waited their turn to kneel at a small altar and put a coin into a slot that flicked a gas candle to life. The room was almost unbearably hot from the near conflagration that burned on that side of the chapel. A few came to the pews and knelt in prolonged prayer. Two brothers of the order stood ready to accept donations to either side of the main altar, coming forward with a offeratory plate to accept the coins wrapped in prayers that would be gathered and read.

Eustace went to his knees and held up a small envelope. A brother came forward to accept it and Eustace placed it on the plate. On the top of the envelope he had written three of the symbols to be found on the device. He smiled at the brother's shocked expression and rose, rejoining Carolina and George. He smiled at Carolina, sulkily resplendent in beautiful dress and then took out his pocket watch and consulted it. Behind him there was now only one brother.

It was almost exactly five minutes by his watch before the brother returned from a door concealed behind a curtain to one side of the altar, with a rather older and slightly better dressed brother in his company.

"Would you follow me, please?"

Eustace clicked his watch shut and tucked it back into his vest pocket. When they reached the door way he stood aside and gestured for Carolina to precede him. "After you, Miss Bonnechance," he murmured. The look in her eyes told him she was not fooled and knew he was throwing her to the wolves, slight chance thought there was there were any, rather than simply being courteous. He fancied she thought him wise to do so, not for his ruthlessnes, but because she thought herself the best equipped to handle whatever might lay beyond. But he might have erred in his opinion, he'd been wrong before.

It was, in any event, an unneeded precaution. The monk led them down several non-descript hallways to a room that looked like a cross between an office and a monastic cell, oh, and a mechanical store room. There were a bewildering number of devices perched on every surface, including the floor and at least two hung from the ceiling. Eustace turned one about with his cane, intrigued by the outlandish way in which a screw drive had been coupled to...

"Why do you wish to speak to me?"

Eustace turned and examined the man in the doorway. He was elderly, but he had the same vitality about him that Eustace had seen in elderly fakirs. This was a man reduced to bone, sinew, and the minimum amount of muscle needed to move about the world. A minimalist machine driven by will and belief.

"I wish to have access to your library. My colleagues and I have some sketches of a device and we wish to research it. The symbols on the envelope, they came from the device."

The man examined Eustace, then George, then, with a slight moue of distaste, Carolina.

"There are some things, young man, which are better forgotten. Whatever your beliefs, there is true evil in this world and mortal men should not tamper with it."

Eustace nodded. "I saw this device, Father. It went into the sea in the arms of a thief who went willingly to the sea, despite a storm and complete and utter lack of a boat. I might be able to find it again. If I had access to your library."

The monk considered Eustace again. It was several minutes before he spoke. "There is a price."

Eustace nodded and shifted the box under his arm to his hand, extending it to the monk. He'd been dreading this moment as much as he'd been anticipating it. "Knowledge for knowledge. I believe you will find this volume to be of interest. It's Indian."

The monk placed the box on a clean surface created by stacking three piles of paper into a single stack and opened it, pulling out the volume within and opening it.

"A tantric volume," Eustace added. "Sex magic. Sanskrit in the original, and I'm afraid my Hindi translation is almost graffiti in nature, but the illustrations are all intact. Lovely colors and most lifelike wouldn't you agree. The sort of thing I'm led to believe the Lynxes seek."

The monk closed the book and replaced it in the box. His gaze was severe. "You are mocking powers you do not understand. If you did, you would not speak so glibly." He made the last word sound like a socially unacceptable disease. "You will be accompanied by one of the brothers. Both in the library and on your expedition."

"Expedition?" Eustace said with what he thought would pass for innocence.

The monk was silent, his gaze merely hardened.

Eustace smiled. "Agreed. And now, the library?"

"Not the woman," the monk pronounced. Clearly he thought women were at least as bad as glibness.

"Then we'll have the book back, thank you. Miss Bonnechance is my bodyguard and don't go anywhere without her." He placed the tip of his cane on the box possessively. "Not even to bed."

The monk placed his hand on the box and drummed his fingers speculatively for a long moment. "Very well. Follow me."

****

The library was not, as Eustace expected, a single large room, but a collection of rooms gathered about a series of corridors. It seemed designed to conceal and separate rather than gather and illuminate, and it made him nervous. The monk left them with the terse notice that their minder would be along shortly.

"I think, George, that Carolina will assist you in gathering and interpreting your materials. I will work on my own track and we will gather at the noon hour to carefully discuss our findings. Miss Bonnechance, I entrust the sketches to you," he said, handing them over.

 

[laceandcogs]

Two things set Carolina's teeth on edge, made her see the world through a seething red veil. One was petticoats. The other was misogyny.

Apparently, the monks here were dedicated to the second, and she was trapped in the first. With the needling little teeth of unnecessary lace poking and prodding her thighs, her ankles, her breasts, Carolina was a vision indeed- likely, the last some poor Brother would see.

Black and white striped satin clung hungrily to her narrow waist and gorgeously flared hips, wrapped in a swirling, tucked bodice to end in a cowl-style neckline. The skirts were modest, cut close to thigh and calf to flare just gently at the ankle. She wore white kidskin gloves with delicate black buttons, which strained ever so slightly as those slender, womanly hands tensed to fists. They seemed to occupy this position frequently, here in the monastery.

Only when Eustace offered her the plans did Carolina relax her grip. "Thank you, Sir. Always at your service." The ice in her voice, and the look of barely contained and soon-to-be-misdirected rage in those gorgeous wide eyes, suggested none too kindly to Eustace that he gird himself for their noontime meeting.

And so the confectionary Carolina had so unhappily become swept off after George, who moved through the rooms with a sort of awe. Much like a child in a candy store, George seemed unable to decide where to look first, what to open, what to read, what to devour.

Quietly, in their mutual tongue, he whispered to Carolina. "If you let that corset out a little, how many books do you think you could smuggle out?"

Her reply was quiet, even, whispered back with a tone of pure sweetness and light. It wasn't the words that chilled George, that made him drop the suggestion. It was the memory of the other times in which Carolina's voice had lost its natural husky, teasing promise and became that delicate, airy froth of femininity. They had always ended bloodily, violently, very, very poorly for the source of Carolina's rage.

"As many as you desire, George. I could do just about anything right now."

 

[Otto26]

The minder quickly became minders when the brothers realized they had split up. Eustace got the apparent senior of the pair, Brother John, a monk cast in the same mold as the one who had granted them access to the library. George and Carolina received a hastily summoned junior who was still fleshy enough to pass for young and make Eustace wonder if he was some sort of castrato. Plainly he considered Carolina to be contagious. It was amusing to watch him studiously and obviously avoid her. He was rather concerned she was going pop the buttons on her gloves before lunch time.

Brother John 'explained' that the library was organized according to a system the monks found useful. He made no effort to explain what that system was and rode over their questions with his explanation that he and Brother Luke would help them locate whatever materials they desired. George appeared slightly annoyed by the pronouncement, but soon had Brother Luke hopping. It seemed he was interested in testing the bounds of the library's contents with the requests we was making.

Eustace thought that a splendid idea, himself. He pursued his own inquiries on the subject by wandering the rooms at random and scanning the shelves, pulling down volumes to peruse. The watchful eyes of Brother John followed him always. Which is why Eustace found and selection that involved sex or women and pulled down a volume of mechanics or natural science located nearly adjacent to them. After an hour of this, Brother John seemed content to let him wander under looser supervision. Eustace took this time to pull down the volumes he'd located earlier and give them a perusal. Most of the authors were European and firmly disapproved of women in general. One of two of them seemed to have conducted some rather gruesome experiments post-mortem and had discovered one or two interesting facts that he filed away for future use. Always he quickly replaced the books at the first sign of anyone passing close by. Not quickly enough in one or two cases. In these instances he muttered, "Damn!" or "That's not what I was looking for!" and quickly pulled another volume down. Brother John, clearly, was not fooled and began to pay still closer attention to George.

Eustace wandered into one of the rooms where Carolina, muttering something in her lyrical native tongue, was attempting to replace a book on a high shelf. He stepped up behind her and pulled her against him, his hands at her belly and breast as he placed his lips against her ear.

"Your reserve in regards to Brother Luke is exemplary, my dear. I would have though a slut like you would be constantly on the watch for a new prick, even a monkish prick. Why, I would imagine you would flirt with him most outrageously when your brother and lover are not in a position to observe. It would make him uncomfortable, of course. So perhaps it's fortunate that you haven't been doing so."

He bit her earlobe, savoring the feel of her flesh between his teeth, his lower hand pressing her back against his readily evident erection. Then he abruptly let go and took the book from her hand, placed it back in the shelf, and turned to walk hurriedly from the room before Brother John espied him. He failed, which was good, and smiled in a rather embarrassed fashion at the man. At least, he hoped it conveyed embarrassment. He was actually rather amused that he'd just set Carolina loose upon the poor Brother Luke. Part of him felt sorry for the man. Part of him... he frowned now, part of him felt jealous.

 

[laceandcogs]

Carolina had to steel herself as Eustace gripped her. The sensation of his hungry hands, his hardness pressed against her back- it was a pleasure that competed with her rage. She had to remind herself that she was angry, not aroused. It helped, of course, to hear him call her a slut...and it inspired a delicious daydream in which she fed that cocksure conman his own lying tongue.

Stirred from the far-too-lovely dreamscape by the presence of Brother Luke, watching her with the a mixture of wary curiosity and revulsion one might employ which watching a bear devour a pet, Carolina considered Eustace's suggestion. It would be an amusement of the sort that was sorely needed, something to take her mind off thoughts of castrating Eustace. Of course, it might be just the sort of amusement that gets them all thrown out, or that sees her tied to a stake.

Cautions always played a quiet second fiddle to temptations.

Catching the young brother's eye was not difficult- for all his distaste, he clearly had not inured himself to the sight of women. With a slow, warm smile, Carolina stared him down as she dropped a book. With a decidedly unnecessary low, arching bend, she displayed her cleavage to its greatest advantage while collecting the tome. Straightening to put it back on the shelf, she stretched her sleek body on tiptoe, thrusting out that sweet compact curve of her ass- for balance, of course.

Feline eyes sparked with amusement as the boy turned fourteen different shades of red and took a sudden, intense interest in the activities of George, several rows away. Carolina reveled in the dark satisfaction caused by the boy's discomfort, and followed him most slowly to George's side.

As noon approached, Carolina had more and more difficulty suppressing giggles at the antics of the thoroughly discomfited young monk. George had caught on to her game, and rolled his eyes til they threatened to spring from his head. Yet he seemed much at home in the library, thrilled with the depth and breadth of knowledge at his fingertips.

Of course, he'd found two very, very important books, the contents of which would most deeply interest Eustace- and further their mutual fascination with the device. Those slim, ancient tomes rested most uncomfortably against Carolina's soft flesh, the corners of the covers sunk deep into the tender plane of her stomach. Between the tightness of the reworked corset and the optical illusion of the tucked and folded striped satin, no one would ever notice their presence.

The moment of concealment had been one of many they had been left completely alone, deserted by their young minder after a particularly lascivious demonstration of the agility of Carolina's tongue. George had handed the books to Carolina and provided cover, pretending they were in deep conference face to face as the girl jammed the books down her top, snugging them far too tightly between her corset and the chemise beneath.

Of course, the prodding, irritating pressure made Carolina just a bit...irritable. The ends were well worth the means, of course, and the discomfort would never show in her face, yet it fueled with fire over which she would roast Mr. Brown when they returned to their rooms.

 

[Otto26]

Carolina's antics were a lovely distraction. Brother Luke clearly attempted to avoid her and, thus, George altogether. Brother John was trying to keep an eye on Eustace whilst clearly wanting to keep a closer eye on George and trying to shepherd Brother Luke. The resulting confusion gave him the opportunity to examine several volumes he dearly wanted a look at. One of them even had to do with the device. With the intended location of the device, rather.

He called a break for lunch when his clock indicated it was 10am. Both the Brother's seemed happy with this decision. George was hard to read, both eager and reluctant. Carolina... well, he thought she seemed both eager and reluctant, but in an entirely different manner. He made trivial conversation, prattling like a vapid socialite, as he led them down the streets to the Hotel Monteleone and obtained an isolated table for them.

He beat George to the chair, smiling broadly at Carolina as he assisted her into the seat. From the waiter he ordered a bourbon, a steak, and a salad. He waited as the others ordered and then spoke.

"I'm reasonably sure we were not followed and I'm certain the reason for this is because the Brothers believe they have deceived us. For my part, I found nothing that would help us decipher the symbols on the device or it's workings. I did manage to confirm where the device is meant to be. It seems reasonable to assume there will be other artifacts at the site. I believe the brothers do not know the location of the site. If they did, they would not have permitted us to look at that library; abridged though it was, it still contained a good deal of knowledge they would not like to see become widely known."

"You played your part very well, Miss Bonnechance. I confess I was sorely tempted to take you for a wicked temptress of the first order. Bravo and thank you for the distraction. And how went if for you, Mister Bonnechance? Were you able to tease any knowledge from that beguiling sham of a secret library?"

 

[laceandcogs]

Carolina sat primly, her body's naturally appealing architecture now posed and held into perfect stillness. She looked serene, even offering a smile at Eustace's compliment. However, somewhere beneath the tranquil sea of her appearance, a gunmetal-grey shark circled. And waited.

George had thoroughly enjoyed himself in the library, and was desperate to go back- were it not for a certain sweet, bespectacled girl he'd managed to "run into" thirteen times in the last two weeks, he'd seriously consider vows. However, he was perfectly- and nervously- aware of the coil constricting inside Carolina, and none-too-eager to be around when it unsprung. Checking his watch, he forced himself to appear casual while counting the minutes until his "accidental" appointment in the park.

"I agree with your observation, Mr. Browne. And as I am keenly aware of the expense of ladies' gloves, I think it best to limit the time we spend in the library- if we return. May I suggest instead that we present barely-contained eagerness- a show of great gratitude and barely checked excitement- before begging our leave? If the brothers think we've picked up their false trail, they may be pleased to allow us to tear off in the 'wrong' direction."

Carolina had drifted away from the conversation, a smile calm and distant enough to suggest laudnum addiction gently curving her lips. The vibrant theater of her mind's eye played blood-soaked scenes of a certain young Brother, tempted into the "playful" bonds of lovemaking, smeared with beef fat and spices to render his delicate flesh all the more tempting to the rats. She'd read a story involving just such a scene, once, a daring and clever escape from some sort of pendulum, but clockwork gears and slowly descending blades called for much more patience than she currently possessed.

And in Carolina's retelling, the rats were -her- friends, not her captive's.

Still, she was not so far gone as to have not noticed George's study of his watch, or his surprising attitude toward forsaking the library. Of course, he did have the two little books so viciously prodding her abdomen, but there were hundreds more to open, grunt at, and beguile one's sister into pinching. Why would he want to leave a second earlier than necessary?

The realization hit Carolina like a thunderclap, and caused her to suddenly straighten. The spines of the books needled her skin at the sudden movement, but the pain was instantly discarded. She regarded her brother levelly, with an expression somewhere between great affection and greater betrayal.

"I think my brother is correct, Mr. Browne. The brothers have shown us all that we will be allowed to see. Perhaps it is better that we pause to plan and offer up a red herring before making another move. I would be most content to be very prominently seen buying steamship tickets this afternoon, to some appropriately deadly and distant locale."

While Carolina spoke, she shuffled through the images in her mind. George and she hadn't run across many women in their time here, even fewer that seemed intelligent enough to have captured his attention. There was a maid at the manor who was sharp as two tacks, but crass, and had seemed much more interested in Carolina than her brother. Then there was the grocer's girl, a little mouse of a thing with a pretty face, but a regrettable stutter. Other than sleep and eat, they'd done little but gamble, and stroll...

The park! A smile froze on Carolina's lips, and the corresponding mental snapshot fell into place. She'd been a slender, frail sort, the kind of girl Carolina imagined spent much of her day sighing and pining, for lack of more interesting sport. She'd damn near bowled into them on first meeting, her pert little nose crammed into some much-too-large book with a title in Latin, and she'd barely managed to properly apologize before turning the page and traipsing off again.

Focus, Caro. Focus and calm down. It's only natural that George should find an affection for a girl, he's getting older now and you wanted this for him, you wanted him to find some nice little round-hipped gal and settle down with a workshop and a series of grave, bespectacled boys...

But not yet! Not now! Not while there was still so much fun to be had! George would never marry and take up housekeeping without a suitable domestic arrangement for her in place, and she was not, -not- even close to getting married. She'd run away. She'd shave her head and cloister herself with some radical, babbling, insane sect. She'd hop a steamship for Africa and set herself up as the pale, fearsome goddess of the jungle.

Though her steak arrived warm and bloody, just as primal as she'd requested, Carolina ate without relish. She was going to get back to the manor, get out of this hideous little contraption, burn every petticoat she could get her hands on, and get drunk.

 

[Otto26]

Eustace ate a bite of his salad as he considered this advice.

"I feel some misdirection would be in order, yes. But rather than divest ourselves of the good Brother John I feel we should make use of him. A man set to watch over us would need to have at least some knowledge of what it was we were not to be permitted to discover, yes? If we cannot go to the correct library, perhaps we can bring it with us." He glanced over at Carolina.

"In any event," he continued, "I consider that any overt misdirection on our part would be a waste of effort. While we might fool the Order, the Lynxes have been at this game for longer than any of us has been alive. Our cheating will, therefore, have to be exceedingly subtle. A journey is in order, yes, but we cannot hope to conceal the general destination. Let us attempt to obscure some of the details, however. I am very much afraid that we will require a special sort of vessel. A submarine."

He paused and looked about the room, not because he was afraid that any observer, and there were certain to be observers, could overhear them, but because he didn't like the course of action he saw before him. Still, they did need a submarine.

"We are fortunate that New Orleans is now the single place in the United States where submarines may be found. Unfortunate that they are here as part of the Federal buildup for the Mexican expedition. I know a man who can get us a crew and, with a little help from us, the submarine we need. Not entirely a pleasant chap, true, but quite competent. Competent enough to survive the war whilst serving in the Confederate Navy's submarines."

He watched as George checked his watch for the third time and cut off his explanations; clearly the man's mind was on something else. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers, summoning the waiter to their table.

"My companions will be finishing their meal whilst I go to my room to freshen up. Please bring me the check and a pen," he instructed.

"I've some preparations to make. I would be obliged, Mister Bonnechance, if you could find some activity that keeps you in the public eye and moving about. And you, Miss Bonnechance, I would appreciate a word with. Send word to my room when you've finished and I'll meet you in the lobby."

The waiter set the bill before him and Eustace signed it in a flamboyant hand: Edward Pakenham.

He rose, inclined his head to them and walked out of the dining room. In the lobby he made for the desk.

"I wish a room for the week," he informed the bell clerk. Not waiting for an answer he took out several bills and set them upon the counter and signed the guest book in the same large script and the same fictious name.

"My luggage will follow," he explained before being prompted to do so and followed the bell boy up the stairs to a rather nice room. He tipped the man and closed the door.

 

[laceandcogs]

Carolina noted the signature Eustace so flashily penned, chewing her steak thoughtfully as she added it to her mental library of facts. With a nod to indicate she'd understood his instruction, Carolina turned to consider George.

It was a trick she'd discovered neatly two decades ago- stare at George, silently and, preferably, while eating, and he would crack within moments. It was perhaps held over from her father's weighty considerations over dinner, moments when he would evaluate George's schoolwork or Carolina's behavior, and likely find both lacking. It was only their mother's steady, almost ceaseless banter that lightened the load.

When mother was also irritated- or disappointed- into silence, the intensity could be quite disturbing.

It was all she could do to suppress a smile as she saw the changes begin. George flicked his eyes to hers, then back to his meal, feigning nonchalance. Two bites, well chewed and well-considered, before he spoke. "So kind of Mr. Pakenham to buy us lunch, isn't it, Caro?"

No response. Not so much of an arch of her brow, a nod of agreement. Carolina continued to stare, chewing delicately, slowly, cutting small bites of steak. Counting heartbeats, she hadn't quite reached fifty when George shrunk a little in his chair and began to tap his left foot. So close, so close now.

"Submarines. Never been on those before. Do you think your seasickness will act up? I mean, we won't be on the sea, we'll be under it. A technicality, but an important one, I should hope. There's no side to sick over, after all."

Ah, this was the last stage. An attempt to distract and irritate by feinting blows. Carolina offered nothing, though the thought had definitely occurred to her. She would simply refuse to eat for...well, however long a submarine voyage was. It couldn't be more than a day or two, maybe three? She had survived much more, and it would be a cold day in hell before she showed weakness in front of Eustace.

"Caro. What. What. What did I do? What do you want?" The anguish in George's voice was restrained, but plain. It softened her immediately, though not completely.

Fifteen minutes later, Carolina kissed her brother's cheek and sent him out the door to meet Adelaide in the park. She was an orphan, but a wealthy, well-educated, and remarkably modern sort, one who fenced and rode spoke six languages and invented and, apparently, made her brother google-eyed with schoolboy affection. It was sweet, in an incredibly awkward way, a romance conducted thus far in strolls in the park and handshakes.

Handshakes.

And so, with her heart bruised, her nerves jangled, and her petticoat-needled temper on its very last legs, Carolina left word at the desk that she wished to speak with Mr. Pakenham.