Miranda's Folly: Part 2 - Steampunk Short Story continued

It has been suggested that I continue Miranda's misadventure with the bathing machine's 'spatial dilation portal' so here it is. You'll want to read the first part, well, first, because it won't make much sense otherwise. 






Victorian Attic by OokamiKasumi

Although her bedroom was comfortably situated on the first floor, Miranda often avoided Madam by retreating to the privacy of the attic. And she needed time alone, time to consider the difficult position in which she found herself.

Think Miranda, think. If Madam Hamilton questioned her, what should she say? What could she say? It took her well nigh half the night to settle on a course of  action but when summoned by the bell the following morning she'd settled on an excellent response.

Tyntesfield servants bells


Miranda carried the hot tea into Madam's bedroom carefully. She used the gilt tray specially set aside for the purpose and was ruefully reminded that she was as skinny as a barber's cat with her small bosom. After all, didn't Mrs. Chatterton, unknowingly implicated in Miranda's scheme, boast such an enormous bosom that she could carry two cups of tea upon them without spilling a drop?

Mrs. Mary Chatterton from http://connect.everthingzoomer.com/profiles/blog/show? 

 

 

Miranda opened the heavy drapes to let in a little sunshine then jostled Madam to awaken her. Her mistress stirred, yawned and sat up, accepting the tea without a word. While Madam sipped the hot brew, Miranda laid out her morning clothes and waited to see if anything would be said about yesterday's bathing incident. She didn't have long to wait.

 

"Miranda, I have a somewhat indelicate question for you." Madam Hamilton began. "It seems that a woman wearing a bathing dress identical to my own - which is impossible as you well know - appeared suddenly near the gentlemen's swimming area. Miranda, I am forced to ask.  Did you use Mr. Pastorini's portal?"

 

Miranda was ready and quickly whipped up a few tears as she dropped her head and nodded in as miserable a fashion as she could manage.

"Oh, Madam," she wailed, quite impressed with the pitiful sound of her own voice. "Oh, I did. I did. I am horribly sorry for my brazen act but oh, Madam, I was in such a state I hardly knew what I was doing."

She peeked up through her lashes to gauge Madam Hamilton's reaction. Satisfied, she went on, keeping her tone bleak.

 

"It's my Wendell, madam. We are engaged and well, I am afraid he may be playing me for a fool with a ladies' maid in service at Chatterton House."

 

Madam gasped. "Mary Chatterton's, in the Queen's Hotel alleyway?"

 

"Yes, Madam, the very one."

 

Madam Hamilton frowned. "But what has that to do with ...?"

 

"Well, Madam." Miranda plunged on, warming to her subject. "I recognized Wendell farther along the beach drawing up horses behind Mrs. Chatterton's bathing machine - you know, the one with the pink door? I wanted to see if he was there with her and thought I might catch them out while Mrs. Chatterton was swimming. But I couldn't think how I could do that and yet remain unseen. Then it came to me. If I used the portal - I know it was wrong of me but I was desperate - I could turn the dial a bit more and be instantly farther along the beach out in the sea, close enough to get a proper view and judge for myself if he was being true to me or not."

 

 

 

Madam raised her eyebrows in understanding and motioned for Miranda to continue, thankfully asking nothing further about the nonexistent Wendell.

 

"But it all went wrong. I turned the dial too far and the portal shot me out as far along as the gentlemen's beach. Once I realized my appalling mistake I instantly pressed the dial to return through the portal into the bathing house."

 

"And it worked? You came back unhurt?"

 

"Yes, Madam. Well, not quite, Madam. I had gone out so far that my return was quite brutal and the portal  threw me against the back wall with terrific force. I was severely bruised." 

 

"I see," Madam said slowly, and then, "You could show me how you turned the dial? So that I don't repeat your error." she added quickly.

 

Miranda brightened. "Oh yes, Madam. To be sure, Madam."

 

The next time Miranda accompanied Madam Hamilton to the beach, wisps of steam drifted gently from the brass tubes of the portal's vent holes and she was surprised to see the back wall of the bathing machine heavily reinforced with layers of padding.

 

"Madam?"

 

Her mistress had the good grace to redden slightly, then recovered and said in as severe a tone as any good teacher instructing a dull pupil. "Spatial dilation is an imprecise science, Miranda, and mistakes must be anticipated. Now, show me the dial position on the circlet."

 

 

MIRANDA'S FOLLY - Steampunk Short Story

Miranda was on the verge of losing her very short temper. Madam Hamilton's horse-drawn bathing machine was a windowless, airless little hut and Miranda had waited inside over an hour for madam to return from her swim. She gave the wall an exasperated thump and glared at the closed seaside door of the wretched cabin while sweat tricked beneath her starched collar. Her discomfort was all madam's fault.

Madam Hamilton had expressed her desire to swim at a distance from shore, "unhampered", she'd said, "by silly women screeching and floundering about next to me." Ever indulgent, the master asked his great friend, the inventor Antonio Pastorini, to install the contraption encasing the doorframe.

A black, many-jointed pipe arched up and over the doorway. Brass tubes wound around the pipe like the coils of a snake. Every so often tiny holes in the tubes puffed out steam with a slight hiss. Mr. Pastorini called it a 'spatial dilation portal' and said it could transport madam as far out into the water as she cared to go. But the door must remain closed while the transportation device was in operation. Hence Miranda's miserable condition.

While Miranda continued to fume and sweat, the hissing sound increased and hot steam belched from the brass coils. Abruptly Madam Hamilton appeared just inside the door, tottering slightly, her pink and white bathing dress dripping.

"Exhilarating, Miranda," she gasped. "Simply exhilarating."

Miranda muttered something unintelligible and began peeling off her mistress's wet clothes to redress her in her street attire.

Madam Hamilton slipped off a brass wrist circlet and placed it next to the portal.
"Remember", she cautioned Miranda, "This must remain our secret. Mr. Pastorini is not ready to share it with anyone else just yet."

Miranda nodded. "I remember." How could she forget. Madam said it every time she used the portal. It was becoming tiresome.

"I will visit with my friends for a few minutes before we leave for home, Miranda. Remain here and do leave open the door to let in a little ventilation." She wrinkled her nose. "The air is quite offensive."

After Madam Hamilton left, Miranda stared glumly through the open door and listened to the waves lap up against the sides. Madam would be gone at least an hour. How could she bear another minute inside this dreary little hut?

Miranda picked up the wrist circlet and turned it over in her hand. A small dial on the side allowed madam to control the device. She'd heard Mr. Pastorini say the portal acted like a snapped elastic band. The farther away from the portal one was transported, the greater the return force. Madam had mastered the wrist circlet quite quickly. How difficult could it be.

Miranda leaned out of the little hut. She could barely discern madam lounging on a blanket far up the beach with a clutch of women. Slowly she closed the hut door and stepped back inside. Dare she? If she thought about it too much she'd lose her nerve.

Miranda stripped off her clothes and tugged on madam's wet bathing dress. She picked up the wrist circlet and slipped it over her hand. Now, how had madam operated it? The little dial must be moved only slightly. But Miranda couldn't risk being seen by the women on the beach. Madam's bathing dress was unfortunately distinctive and she'd be found out at once.

Taking a deep breath Miranda turned the dial and closed her eyes. She barely heard the hiss of the machine before suddenly being engulfed in waves that slopped up over her face and nose. She coughed and spit then spread out her arms to stay afloat. Treading water, she took her bearings. Sand. People. She was too close to the bleeding beach after all.

Frantically she scoured the shore. It looked different somehow. Wait a minute. There were no women on this beach. She relaxed slightly, seeing bathing machines and horses and umbrellas and heads bobbing in the water. Focusing in on one bather she followed them as they waded for shore. Naked buttocks jounced up and down. The swimmer turned and her mouth dropped open in instant horror. A man. Starkers! Not just any man either, it was the master. And he'd seen her.

In lucky possession of an agile mind, Miranda ducked beneath the waves and jabbed the circlet dial. The next thing she knew she was rocketing across the bathing hut. She hit the far wall with force and slid down to land in a dazed heap. Befuddled, head aching, she put on her own clothes, removed the wrist circlet and sat down to wait, promising herself that if she escaped detection she would never do anything like this again.

That evening Miranda paused beside the dining room on her way to the kitchen and observed the master wink across the table at madam, wag his finger at her and say, "You cheeky thing."


The above was the result of Absolute Write's September Blog Chain prompt - Steampunk/Retro-Future.
I know little about this genre but had fun giving it a go.

My fellow participants are:

orion_mk3     http://nonexistentbooks.wordress.com
Ralph Pines   http://ralfast.wordpress.com
BBBurke       http://awritersprogression.blogspot.com
asyns             http://atomic-skies.blogspot.com
SJNews         http://thelanguageofimagination.blogspot.co.uk
pyrosama      http://matrix-hole.blogspot.com
meowzbark   http://www.lizzylessard.com
Angyl78       http://jelyzabeth.wordpress.com