Chapter Nine
While Mrs Lyra Sinclair was having the time of her life working in Silas Gray’s library, Lady Dorothea Renslow was beyond ecstatic and up to her armpits in grease, fasteners, knurled screws, toggle latches and hinged panels.
The Mistletoe machine was slowly giving up its secrets to her nimble fingers and enquiring explorations.
“All right now,” she murmured, as if it could hear her. “Let’s see what you’re hiding underneath all this grubby grime.”
She slipped her fingers beneath the edge of the main access panel and found the cam latches, brass probably, slightly warm, their surfaces polished smooth by years of impatient hands.
It took a little practised twist, but they finally released with a satisfying little clack, one after another, until the entire housing gave what seemed like a reluctant sigh and loosened.
And the game was on.
At least three hours later, she straightened and stretched her spine. But what progress she’d made! The machine was slowly giving up its secrets under her firm but gentle touch, and every time something pinged free, Thea’s excitement level rose.
So engaged was she that everything else in the Forge vanished. Consequently, she damn near shot straight up in the air when a hand tapped her between her shoulder blades.
“Coggleblast it,” she swore, tearing herself away from the machine and spinning around. “I almost had it.”
Silas grinned at her. “Did you? What was it you almost had?”
She narrowed her eyes and shook a spanner at him. “You don’t believe me, do you. Well, let me show you this...” She pointed at the pile of what looked like debris on the cart next to her.
“All right. Some bits I recognise, but others...like this,” he picked up a very strange-looking spring, “I’d be hard pressed to know how to use it.”
“It’s a secondary governor spring. Essential for the start cycle.”
“Good grief. Is it really?” He stared at it.
“Yes, it is. Really. And it’s lost its tension over the decades. Which is one of the reasons it failed.”
Silas shot her a quick look and opened his mouth, but she held up her hand to silence him before he started. “I don’t know, to answer your question. It certainly contributed to the problems this poor machine has, but it’s not the only one and no, it won’t work yet.”
“Yet? You really believe you can repair it enough to get it going in time for the Christmas orders?”
“Come back in a few hours, and I may have an answer for you.”
“Thea,” he said firmly. “You do not have to do this. It’s a filthy job, as you can see. And the innards are as old as...well, I don’t know what. How can you possibly expect to...”
She eased back from the machine and wiped her hands on an already oily cloth. Then she stared at him.
“Silas. Please—and I’m saying this from the heart—please do not underestimate me.
Ever. I try not to make promises I can’t keep, and I never exaggerate.
I’ve spent most of my life being talked down to, or dismissed as being a mere female.
And I don’t mind saying that it’s a coggleblasted pain in the. ..” She shrugged. “Well, you know.”
“I didn’t mean...”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” she said, waving away his words.
“And I do understand your position. This machine could make or break Christmas everywhere, from the Forge to the Obelisk high above Arcvale. I am not unaware of its importance.” She sighed.
“I am also aware that you don’t know me from a chuffing piston, and asking for your trust is asking you to take a leap of faith over an abyss that could sink this entire place. ”
Silas blinked. “Um, well that’s putting it bluntly indeed.”
“Am I incorrect in my assumptions?”
He sighed. “No.”
She waved her hand over the assorted bits and pieces.
“I am getting to know this machine, Silas. Each part I remove and clean, and straighten or tighten, or...whatever...each part is a little piece of the whole, and the more little pieces I have, the easier it will be to reassemble.” She stood firmly in front of him and extended her forefinger, using it to punctuate her words.
“In, poke, proper, poke, working, poke, order.”
“Ow.” He rubbed his chest. “Keep that up, and you’ll be putting me back together as well.” His lips curled into a sensual smile that stirred things inside her. “I hope you would pay as much attention to that project as you are to this one.”
Secretly charmed, she simply wrinkled her nose. “I would give it some consideration.”
“Hmm.” He leaned over and looked inside the guts of the machine that Thea’s explorations had revealed.
“You know, I can see some familiar bits in there as well.” He stood on tiptoe and delved deeply into the greasy murk.
“This looks like an old ping-gear. We stopped using those ten or fifteen years ago, at least.”
“It is,” she nodded. “I was just about to get it out. If it can be cleaned...”
“It can be reused,” he finished, grabbing a wrench. “Let me help...”
“I...” Thea was ready to send him off with a flea in his ear, but then she saw the expression on his face as he leaned further into the machine and worked his tool up against the housing.
He loved this every bit as much as she did.
It was evident from the intense focus, the slight sounds he made as he struggled to get the wrench locked on, and the final little yip of joy when he pulled away with the offending bit of machinery in his hand.
“Got the little coggleblaster.” He grinned happily at her, completely oblivious to the smudges he’d just put on his shirt and cheek.
“That is a huge help, thank you, Silas.” She took the gear and placed it carefully in one of the several boxes lined up neatly beside the machine.
“We might have something close to replace it,” he offered.
Quiet for a moment, Thea considered his suggestion, then shook her head. “I suppose we could, but honestly? This fellow is so old that I would worry the tolerances were wrong. It takes only one worn gear tooth...”
He sighed. “I know. And much as it pains me to say it, you’re right and it’s worth it, even though it means more work.” Turning toward her, he paused for a moment. “Look, Thea. I am going to do something I hardly ever do. I’m going to take a massive gamble.”
“On what?”
“On you.”
*~~*~~*
Was he twelve different kinds of an idiot?
Silas asked himself that question more than once as the afternoon wore on.
He’d entrusted one of the most vital machines to a woman who had never actually worked in the Forge.
If her efforts failed, it would be a disaster of biblical proportions, with the outraged screams from the upper levels shaking the very foundations of Arcvale.
He paused. All right, that was overstating things a bit, but that’s what it felt like to him.
“I’m not sure what you mean...” Thea was looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and puzzlement.
“I could assign a dozen of our best mechanics to this...because at this stage it really is looking as though the Mistletoe machine is repairable.”
Face expressionless now, she nodded. “Yes.”
“But I’m not going to do that.”
The tension he could see in her shoulders ease. “Why?”
“Because I believe this project is yours. You appeared down here at the very moment you were needed most. You have astounding skills with mechanical systems, you intuitively know how to touch them, you can sense their condition, and you seem to possess the gift of accurately assessing how they all fit together.”
“Well, I...”
“Wait.” He held up his hand. “I’m not finished yet.”
“Oh.”
Silas cleared his throat, wondering if he had truly lost his mind.
“I believe you can repair this old favourite. I really do. So, I’m going to leave you to it.
I encourage you to fix it, just the way you fixed things for Gen and her mama.
I think you’re down here in the Undercroft for a reason, Thea.
I’m not completely sure what it is, but I’d be prepared to wager a considerable sum that the Mistletoe machine plays a large role. ”
“Oh,” she repeated, looking oddly confused.
He had to grin. “Are there other reasons you’re here? Maybe. Probably. And perhaps time will reveal them. But time is one thing this machine doesn’t have, so...have at it. Make it work, Thea. Please.”
He saw her simple, oil-smudged blouse rise and fall as she took a deep breath. “I’ll make it work, Silas. I will make it work.”
Her quiet and resolute vow seemed to echo around the cavern they were in, ringing against rock and bouncing off the assorted metal debris lying at their feet.
“Good girl.”
And then one of those moments when common sense flies out of the window smacked Silas upside the head. He leaned over, grabbed her chin, and kissed her. Thoroughly.
She froze for a moment and then, to his surprise, melted against him.
Heat, a blast of heat fiercer than any the fiery Forge could produce, ripped through Silas’s body, and his arms clamped her tightly to his chest. Her lips parted, an invitation he couldn’t refuse, and for the next few moments the world vanished, to be replaced by the pounding rhythm of their heartbeats.
Finally, after what seemed like aeons, they drew apart.
Thea cleared her throat, lips reddened, cheeks flushing. “Um...” She lowered her gaze.
He stepped back and sucked in a lungful of air. “All right then.” He waved vaguely in the direction of the Mistletoe machine. “Have at it.” Hurrying away, he let himself relish her taste, which lingered on his tongue.
Now he’d gone and done it. That might have been a coggleblasted mistake of grandiose proportions, but he couldn’t deny that the urge to seize that kiss had been kicking at him almost from the moment they’d met.
He might have—and most likely had—destroyed any chance of finding favour in her eyes, but now he knew. He just knew. And somewhere, his goose was emerging from an oven, and it was fully cooked.
As he walked through the Forge, nodding at the friends he’d made, listening to the sounds that had orchestrated his life for more than five years, he wondered if he could bear to leave, to head up to the rarified elegance that was the uppermost level of Arcvale.
Until today, the thought of leaving had never, ever, crossed his mind.
But now he’d met Thea. He’d kissed Thea. And he wanted to do it again, many times, in many ways.
However, if he did, he knew it would have to lead to some very big changes.