Editing The Hounds of Winter, Chapter One: Hounds Cast
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| − | + | <span style="color:#800000">'''''This is a work in progress. Edits ongoing.'''''</span><br><br><br> | |
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''Friday, 18 February 1870''<br> | ''Friday, 18 February 1870''<br> | ||
''Dover Boat Train, First Class Compartment''<br> | ''Dover Boat Train, First Class Compartment''<br> | ||
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''6:04am, GMT''<br><br> | ''6:04am, GMT''<br><br> | ||
| − | Josephine and Quentin took the first train from St. Pancras for Dover. They threaded through the scaffolding that enveloped the attached Midland Grand Hotel still under construction and Josephine swept the edifice with a discerning eye. Sir George Gilbert Scott had truly outdone himself. The polychromic brick, black iron work, and the creamy stone of the arched windows combined for a very elegant yet durable beauty. She had no time to see more before she and Quentin dove into the controlled chaos of the vast platform. The din was hellish and steam shrouded the glass shed roof overhead. <br><br> | + | Josephine and Quentin took the first train from St. Pancras for Dover. They threaded through the scaffolding that enveloped the attached Midland Grand Hotel, still under construction and Josephine swept the edifice with a discerning eye. Sir George Gilbert Scott had truly outdone himself. The polychromic brick, black iron work, and the creamy stone of the arched windows combined for a very elegant yet durable beauty. She had no time to see more before she and Quentin dove into the controlled chaos of the vast platform. The din was hellish and steam shrouded the glass shed roof overhead. <br><br> |
Quentin, still unpacked from his trip to the Near East, notified the hotel to send his bags to the train station. Josephine eschewed taking her trunk, choosing a carpet bag and her smaller leather valise for speed and ease of movement. She'd swaddled the precious Dubroni in the carpet bag and the mission files were in her valise. The rest of their kit she'd distributed judiciously between herself and Quentin. The Colonel had been generous enough with funds that they could purchase anything they might otherwise need en route. She briefly considered booking coach but chose First Class for the first leg of their journey. She wanted to review the sensitive material privately before arriving on the Continent. Once committed to memory, it would remain secure in her head and privacy would be moot.<br><br> | Quentin, still unpacked from his trip to the Near East, notified the hotel to send his bags to the train station. Josephine eschewed taking her trunk, choosing a carpet bag and her smaller leather valise for speed and ease of movement. She'd swaddled the precious Dubroni in the carpet bag and the mission files were in her valise. The rest of their kit she'd distributed judiciously between herself and Quentin. The Colonel had been generous enough with funds that they could purchase anything they might otherwise need en route. She briefly considered booking coach but chose First Class for the first leg of their journey. She wanted to review the sensitive material privately before arriving on the Continent. Once committed to memory, it would remain secure in her head and privacy would be moot.<br><br> | ||
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"We follow the wolf to its den and wipe out the pack. Leave none alive to strike us from behind. Of course, we must confirm we've a wolf in our sights before squeezing the trigger." She put her cup aside and leaned forward, ticking the points off on her fingers. "Confirmed: Gheorghe Panculescu attended University in Bucharest in 1865. Confirmed: One of his associates from University, Ştefan Brezeanu, had ties to several Nationalist and Occult groups during their study there. Confirmed: Panculescu received a telegram from Brezeanu a fortnight ago. Confirmed: Panculescu has precipitously left Paris with what appears to be an alarming quantity of gun cotton and other explosive materials and is now making his way back to Romania, ostensibly to build a bridge. Conclusion: Trouble. Possibly connected with the cult activity the Colonel mentioned. Possibly with Nationalists bent on mayhem. Or it might be connected to a legitimate construction contract in Romania. Whatever the case, it is a lead. I intend to follow it."<br><br> | "We follow the wolf to its den and wipe out the pack. Leave none alive to strike us from behind. Of course, we must confirm we've a wolf in our sights before squeezing the trigger." She put her cup aside and leaned forward, ticking the points off on her fingers. "Confirmed: Gheorghe Panculescu attended University in Bucharest in 1865. Confirmed: One of his associates from University, Ştefan Brezeanu, had ties to several Nationalist and Occult groups during their study there. Confirmed: Panculescu received a telegram from Brezeanu a fortnight ago. Confirmed: Panculescu has precipitously left Paris with what appears to be an alarming quantity of gun cotton and other explosive materials and is now making his way back to Romania, ostensibly to build a bridge. Conclusion: Trouble. Possibly connected with the cult activity the Colonel mentioned. Possibly with Nationalists bent on mayhem. Or it might be connected to a legitimate construction contract in Romania. Whatever the case, it is a lead. I intend to follow it."<br><br> | ||
| − | "Well, Ma'am, just to play ''advocatus diaboli'' for a moment, what if he just wants to build a bridge in Romania | + | "Well, Ma'am, just to play ''advocatus diaboli'' for a moment, what if he just wants to build a bridge in Romania. It's his hometown."<br><br> |
"If it is merely a bridge, we confirm it and send word back to the Colonel. If it is something more inimical to England, we confirm it and send word back. I would be pleased to find it is the former over the latter but we cannot assume anything at this juncture."<br><br> | "If it is merely a bridge, we confirm it and send word back to the Colonel. If it is something more inimical to England, we confirm it and send word back. I would be pleased to find it is the former over the latter but we cannot assume anything at this juncture."<br><br> | ||
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"So we'll be boarding a train when we get to Paris and overtake him then?" Quentin asked. <br><br> | "So we'll be boarding a train when we get to Paris and overtake him then?" Quentin asked. <br><br> | ||
| − | "No. Assets confirmed his departure last night to Vienna. He'll have a | + | "No. Assets confirmed his departure last night to Vienna. He'll have a two day head start on us once we've arrived in Paris. We would never catch him by train." Josephine leaned back and took up her tea. The pound coin passed across her knuckles as she thought on how they could make up for the lost time. ''The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Neither roads nor rails will ensure the straightest route. Not when politics and mountains require going around rather than through. If not around or through, what about … '''over'''?'' A memory struck her then and she smiled into her teacup. "I think I have it. We'll go by airship."<br><br> |
"Airship, ma'am?" Quentin seemed skeptical. "As in what Lord Fleming-Drake crashed in? ''That'' kind of airship?"<br><br> | "Airship, ma'am?" Quentin seemed skeptical. "As in what Lord Fleming-Drake crashed in? ''That'' kind of airship?"<br><br> | ||
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"To say nothing of it being incredibly expensive. One might as well use platinum." ''And that, Jo, exhausts your knowledge of obscure metallurgy …'' She mentally added the topic to her never-ending research list. The thought tickling at back of her head came closer but remained elusive.<br><br> | "To say nothing of it being incredibly expensive. One might as well use platinum." ''And that, Jo, exhausts your knowledge of obscure metallurgy …'' She mentally added the topic to her never-ending research list. The thought tickling at back of her head came closer but remained elusive.<br><br> | ||
| − | "The theory is," Quentin continued. "It would be really strong if they could make it work. But nobody's made it work yet. Like titanium. That's another one. They talked about | + | "The theory is," Quentin continued. "It would be really strong if they could make it work. But nobody's made it work yet. Like titanium. That's another one. They talked about it bein' an amazin' metal, that nobody's been able to actually make work. Mixin' manganese with iron to make it stronger? I don't know." He shook his head and then quirked a grin at her. "Yeah, I sat through that materials class 'cuz it was 2 p.m. in the afternoon and it was right next to the lunch hall."<br><br> |
Josephine managed to hide her smile behind her tea cup and let the man talk. Half the trick to learning anything was employing the art of listening. <br><br> | Josephine managed to hide her smile behind her tea cup and let the man talk. Half the trick to learning anything was employing the art of listening. <br><br> | ||
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"Ah," he said with a knowing smile. <br><br> | "Ah," he said with a knowing smile. <br><br> | ||
| − | Josephine had to give the man credit. Though Quentin's response hung heavy with curiosity, he offered no further comment. Relieved, she turned back to the file and frowned at the metallurgy report, such as it was. ''Is the manganese significant? If it has no industrial use as an alloy then why—?'' The idea at the back of her head finally came forward and she blinked. I''f the alloy was not meant for industrial use, was it meant for a thaumaturgical one?'' Josephine was | + | Josephine had to give the man credit. Though Quentin's response hung heavy with curiosity, he offered no further comment. Relieved, she turned back to the file and frowned at the metallurgy report, such as it was. ''Is the manganese significant? If it has no industrial use as an alloy then why—?'' The idea at the back of her head finally came forward and she blinked. I''f the alloy was not meant for industrial use, was it meant for a thaumaturgical one?'' Josephine was no stranger to thaumaturgy tied to cult activity. She'd blooded professionally upon it. ''Of what magical use would manganese be?''<br><br> |
"How could the Colonel miss this?" she whispered down at the file, forgetting that instant she wasn't alone, her head racing through the possibilities as the idea took shape.<br><br> | "How could the Colonel miss this?" she whispered down at the file, forgetting that instant she wasn't alone, her head racing through the possibilities as the idea took shape.<br><br> | ||
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"True story," he began offhandedly."When my father was fresh out'a College he lived up in Washington at this fancy boarding house. A bunch fancy folk lived there, senators and stuff, and every once in a while 'Ole Hickory, that is, President Jackson, would come by with his wife for an evening. My daddy would talk about how they was more just folks than what you'd think of a president and his wife also how when they got to the house Rachey, that is, Mrs. Jackson, would be all nervous-like and twitchy, kind of like you are now. That is until she got a chance to step out to the back porch." He pulled two small cigars from his bag and offered her the choice. "I believe this is what you are looking for, Ma'am."<br><br> | "True story," he began offhandedly."When my father was fresh out'a College he lived up in Washington at this fancy boarding house. A bunch fancy folk lived there, senators and stuff, and every once in a while 'Ole Hickory, that is, President Jackson, would come by with his wife for an evening. My daddy would talk about how they was more just folks than what you'd think of a president and his wife also how when they got to the house Rachey, that is, Mrs. Jackson, would be all nervous-like and twitchy, kind of like you are now. That is until she got a chance to step out to the back porch." He pulled two small cigars from his bag and offered her the choice. "I believe this is what you are looking for, Ma'am."<br><br> | ||
| − | That stopped her in her tracks | + | That stopped her in her tracks and Quentin saw her blink. <br><br> |
| − | "Thank you," she breathed and blew the smoke delicately | + | Josephine was no stranger to the vice of smoking and he was struck by the sudden intimacy of lighting up as she leaned in toward the match flame. The pleasure of the first draw made her eyelids flutter and she sank into her seat with a sigh. She visibly relaxed and he eased back, only then aware how tense her pacing had made him. ''That's better''.<br><br> |
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| + | "Thank you," she breathed and blew the smoke delicately upward. She eyed him through the haze and said, "I hope you do not intend to address me as 'Ma'am' for the entire mission, Quentin. It would blow our cover."<br><br> | ||
"We'd have one to blow? A cover, I mean?"<br><br> | "We'd have one to blow? A cover, I mean?"<br><br> | ||
| − | She pulled out a man's silver pocket watch and consulted it. ''Odd thing for a woman to be carryin''', he thought as his fingers twitched for his. ''Then again, she's an odd woman''. Far from being off-putting, the quality made her interesting. ''Interesting enough that when the Colonel fellah called me in, I came''. Quentin didn't dwell on how the Colonel found him. He hadn't kept his presence in London a secret. The silver watch closed with a click and he returned to the present.<br><br> | + | She pulled out a man's silver pocket watch and consulted it. ''Odd thing for a woman to be carryin''', he thought as his fingers twitched for his. ''Then again, she's an odd woman''. Far from being off-putting, the quality made her interesting. ''Interesting enough that when the Colonel fellah called me in, I came''. Quentin didn't dwell on how the Colonel found him. He hadn't kept his presence in London a secret. The silver watch closed with a click and he returned to the present.<br><br> |
"We should," she said. "What would you suggest?"<br><br> | "We should," she said. "What would you suggest?"<br><br> | ||
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"I do."<br><br> | "I do."<br><br> | ||
| − | She gave him a searching stare, obviously taking his measure and Quentin stared back, | + | She gave him a searching stare, obviously taking his measure and Quentin stared back, taking hers. He remembered how they'd first met, fighting their way out of a jam in Limehouse. Not for the first time he wondered what had made her the way she was, as most women in his experience were not. She'd mentioned hard knocks but she didn't have the mark of the street orphan on her. Neither did she come off as a society girl playing at a man's game. She was a mystery. Quentin looked forward to cracking it. <br><br> |
"Very well," she said, the end of her cigar glowing bright as she drew deeply on it and blew the smoke aside. "Married it is."<br><br> | "Very well," she said, the end of her cigar glowing bright as she drew deeply on it and blew the smoke aside. "Married it is."<br><br> | ||
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''Friday, 18 February 1870''<br> | ''Friday, 18 February 1870''<br> | ||
''Trumpshaw's, Rue de Surèsne''<br> | ''Trumpshaw's, Rue de Surèsne''<br> | ||
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''8:00pm, local time''<br><br> | ''8:00pm, local time''<br><br> | ||
| − | The Channel crossing lived up to its turbulent reputation. Apparently not prone to motion sickness, Josephine spent much of the voyage outside on the observation deck. Quentin didn't blame her, the fresh air and the wind on his face being better than the miasma belowdecks. He stood with Josephine as her newlywed husband, keeping a hand on her elbow lest she go over the rail and when the sea got rambunctious his arm went round her waist a time or two. When the cold became too much, they went in to warm themselves before going back out again. Beyond the cold, weather held fair, with a stiff breeze that turned the sea into a garden of whitecaps. By the time they stepped off at Calais, they were grateful for the stability of land. Josephine purchased French papers and a small hamper of provisions for the | + | The Channel crossing lived up to its turbulent reputation. Apparently not prone to motion sickness, Josephine spent much of the voyage outside on the observation deck. Quentin didn't blame her, the fresh air and the wind on his face being better than the miasma belowdecks. He stood with Josephine as her newlywed husband, keeping a hand on her elbow lest she go over the rail and when the sea got rambunctious his arm went round her waist a time or two. When the cold became too much, they went in to warm themselves before going back out again. Beyond the cold, weather held fair, with a stiff breeze that turned the sea into a garden of whitecaps. By the time they stepped off at Calais, they were grateful for the stability of land. Josephine purchased French papers and a small hamper of provisions for the trip. As they rode to Paris, the newly-minted Lees lunched on bottled lemonade, crusty bread, and tinned pâté. <br><br> |
During and after their meal, Josephine drilled Quentin on the details of their married life. It was a continual repetition of the sort that reminded Quentin of nothing so much as multiplication drills from his school days. Even after every detail was memorized, she appeared to believe he had never attempted subterfuge before but the drill itself seemed as much for her as for him and it seemed to calm her down.<br><br> | During and after their meal, Josephine drilled Quentin on the details of their married life. It was a continual repetition of the sort that reminded Quentin of nothing so much as multiplication drills from his school days. Even after every detail was memorized, she appeared to believe he had never attempted subterfuge before but the drill itself seemed as much for her as for him and it seemed to calm her down.<br><br> | ||
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Once off the train station platform, Quentin hired a cab at the stand and saw to their luggage: her two bags and his gentleman's trunk. They made a negligible pile on the rear fender. Quentin handed her into the cab and gave the driver the address of the hotel she had arranged for them. The whip cracked and they were off. <br><br> | Once off the train station platform, Quentin hired a cab at the stand and saw to their luggage: her two bags and his gentleman's trunk. They made a negligible pile on the rear fender. Quentin handed her into the cab and gave the driver the address of the hotel she had arranged for them. The whip cracked and they were off. <br><br> | ||
| − | " | + | "Merci," Quentin said when they alighted several blocks short of their destination. He took Josephine's bags and sent the cabbie to their hotel with his trunk. Fare paid, he turned to his wife. "You said you wished to walk, darlin'. Where to next?"<br><br> |
"This way, dear."<br><br> | "This way, dear."<br><br> | ||
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There was a clack and a groan as the door opened and light flooded the threshold. <br><br> | There was a clack and a groan as the door opened and light flooded the threshold. <br><br> | ||
| − | Fifty, going a little seedy in ginger hair and spectacles, and more than a little nervous, Arthur MacEwan checked the alley with suspicious gaze before sweeping the couple before him with the same. He'd been alerted by London to expect visitors but it paid to be cautious. He recognized the woman of the pair. | + | Fifty, going a little seedy in ginger hair and spectacles, and more than a little nervous, Arthur MacEwan checked the alley with suspicious gaze before sweeping the couple before him with the same. He'd been alerted by London to expect visitors but it paid to be cautious. He recognized the woman of the pair. Arceneaux, he remembered, first name Josephine. He did not know the man with her but he had been warned there would be two. An American, judging by the hat.<br><br> |
"Come in," he said, lamp in hand, waving them inside.<br><br> | "Come in," he said, lamp in hand, waving them inside.<br><br> | ||
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"I need an evening gown and officer's dress." Josephine said and pulled a notice from her pocket, obviously torn from a Parisian paper, and gave it to him. <br><br> | "I need an evening gown and officer's dress." Josephine said and pulled a notice from her pocket, obviously torn from a Parisian paper, and gave it to him. <br><br> | ||
| − | "Hmm." MacEwan peered over his spectacle rims at the halftone portrait | + | "Hmm." MacEwan peered over his spectacle rims at the halftone newsprint portrait. It showed the Argentine socialite posing with one of his beloved dirigibles, the article beneath it declaring a ball at the Russian Ambassador's residence. He eyed Josephine up and down quickly to gauge her size before moving to James Henry Lee. ''A forty-two long'', he thought. "Cavalry?" MacEwan asked.<br><br> |
"Well, if I'm gonna be an officer, sure," came the answer. "But why not just a fancy evenin' coat? I gotta say I cut a dashin' figure in coat and tails."<br><br> | "Well, if I'm gonna be an officer, sure," came the answer. "But why not just a fancy evenin' coat? I gotta say I cut a dashin' figure in coat and tails."<br><br> | ||
| − | MacEwan looked at Josephine with some exasperation. "Follow me." ''Why the devil | + | MacEwan looked at Josephine with some exasperation. "Follow me." ''Why the devil was she paired up with an American?'' <br><br> |
| − | The next hour was instructive as well as busy. While Josephine absented herself to cable the Colonel, Quentin was shown to another room filled floor to ceiling with clothing and accessories in bewildering array. Most was male attire, but there was a fair amount for the ladies as well. | + | The next hour was instructive as well as busy. While Josephine absented herself to cable the Colonel, Quentin was shown to another room filled floor to ceiling with clothing and accessories in bewildering array. Most was male attire, but there was a fair amount for the ladies as well. Ginger Man and a matronly assistant measured Quentin for a high collared white uniform dripping with gold braid and medals. He couldn't read them, though the backward "R" and "N" allowed him an educated guess. <br><br> |
"Russian?" he asked as Josephine returned only to disappear behind a screen with the matron. "I don't speak Russian."<br><br> | "Russian?" he asked as Josephine returned only to disappear behind a screen with the matron. "I don't speak Russian."<br><br> | ||
| − | "No need to talk." | + | "No need to talk." Ginger Man patted his throat. "You took a bullet in Crimea." <br><br> |
"Couldn't I just be me? Or at least the fake me? Not like I haven't been to a fancy ball before." <br><br> | "Couldn't I just be me? Or at least the fake me? Not like I haven't been to a fancy ball before." <br><br> | ||
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"Don't. You'll ruin the effect."<br><br> | "Don't. You'll ruin the effect."<br><br> | ||
| − | + | Quentin turned on hearing Josephine and froze. She stood in a becoming black ball gown. Jet draped in delicate swags off her bare shoulders. More jet gleamed softly at bodice and neckline, where silk of deepest night accentuated the pallor of her skin. And there was quite a lot of it, he was pleased to see. Her hair was up, showing off her neck to perfection. The décolletage was deep enough to make things interesting without giving the goods away. Her waist was tiny in comparison. The impulse to span it with his hands, to feel her breathe under them, made every muscle in his body clench. <br><br> | |
| − | "With you there, | + | "With you there, no one's gonna notice," he said, swallowing hard. Nope. Not one bit. Damn, this collar's tight. It got a little tighter still when she slid a slim knife down her bodice, then lifted her hem to slide another one in her stocking garter. It made him wonder what else she had hidden on her. ''No tellin'. However … ''<br><br> |
| − | "You've forgotten something." Quentin | + | "You've forgotten something." Quentin approached and gently took her left hand. Ginger Man divined his meaning and produced a tray of rings. Watching her closely, Quentin saw the second she chose it and he plucked the ring from the velvet before she could move and slid it on her finger. It was a plain gold band set with a small blue sapphire. "Husband and wife," he murmured, the scent of her tantalizing as he leaned in and stole a kiss. <br><br> |
| − | + | And Holy Hannah, she kissed him back. His hands found her waist as the kiss deepened and he discovered the taste of her. A cough and a shuffle reminded Quentin they weren't alone and he broke away, still roused. The matron bustled in and wrapped Josephine in a cloak. Ginger Man put him in the proper military greatcoat and cap. Cab wheels ground to a halt outside and Quentin had to step quickly. Josephine was already halfway to the door, saying they mustn't be late. Shaking Ginger Man's hand in farewell and tipping his cap to the matron, he made it to the cab in time. <br><br><br> | |
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From: '''J.G.A.'''<br> | From: '''J.G.A.'''<br> | ||
'''MN FE ALLOY. THAUM PROPS QUERY. SEND FINDS TO EMPLOYER STOP THANK YOU STOP STOP STOP'''<br><br><br> | '''MN FE ALLOY. THAUM PROPS QUERY. SEND FINDS TO EMPLOYER STOP THANK YOU STOP STOP STOP'''<br><br><br> | ||
| − | |||
==='''''HOW TO SPEAK LATIN'''''=== | ==='''''HOW TO SPEAK LATIN'''''=== | ||
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---- | ---- | ||
| − | Return to | + | Return to [[The Hounds of Winter, Prologue: Hounds to Scent]] | Jump to [[The Hounds of Winter, Chapter Two: TBD]]<br> |
| − | Return to | + | Return to [[Victoriana: Gathering Storms#The Story Thus Far|The Story Thus Far]]<br> |
| − | Return to | + | Return to [[Victoriana: Gathering Storms|Gathering Storms Main Page]]<br> |
| − | Return to | + | Return to [[Dr._Penguin%27s_Iceberg#Victoriana|Victoriana Campaign Index]]<br> |
| − | Return to | + | Return to [[Dr._Penguin%27s_Iceberg|Dr. Penguin's Iceberg]] |
<br><br><br> | <br><br><br> | ||
