Winged: A Novella (Of Two Girls) Read Online Free PDF Page B

nuggets,
especially during the chill of winter.
     
    Above her, she knew, were a few leo-fins, no
doubt carrying cargo and passengers. She wondered if Eddington was
up there and she blushed, hiding her face behind her thick scarf.
Alethia, sitting opposite her, did not say anything. She was
dressed in a sober brown coat and her slender hands were snug in
fur.
     
     
     
     
    And there were so many more buildings! They
were all around her, stately buildings, closely packed buildings,
smaller houses in rows. Of course, there was Westminster Abbey with
its gothic grandeur and the Tower of London looking ominous in the
London fog. Not to mention the clock tower Big Ben, a giant in the
midst of giants. She had not forgotten the factories too. They blew
spumes of smoke, visible columns of white and grey issuing forth
from long chimneys. The memory of the London fire was still fresh
in her mind.
     
    When the carriage passed by the Thames, she
marveled at the river barges steaming their way up and down. She
could hear their haunting horns echo in the evening darkness.
Somewhere she knew were the larger ships coming in to unload their
exotic cargo, clad in steel: heralds for a different age of
commerce.
     
    From her warm seat in the carriage, swaying
gently as the horses trotted down cobblestone streets, she watched
the women in their elegant gowns and thick winter muffs as they
stepped daintily on pavements covered with dirty snow. There were
also women who wore breeches, like Captain Sagan – and they were
laughing cheerfully as they strode together down the street,
Yuletide packages in their arms. It was indeed a grand age for
women.
     
    She rested her chin on her fist, watching
London rush past her in a pastiche of sounds and images.
     
    “A penny for your thoughts?” Alethia’s soft
voice broke the silence and Katherine turned to look at the blind
girl.
     
    “Just thinking,” Katherine said quietly.
     
    “London can be quite overwhelming,” Alethia
smiled. “It is called a city for a reason.”
     
    Katherine smiled back, knowing that Alethia
had somehow acknowledged her smile.
     
    “ You will like my father,” the fair-haired
girl said, grimacing slightly as the carriage suffered a jolt as it
dipped into a pothole. They both heard an apologetic “Sorry,
ma’am!” from the coach-driver and they laughed. “He spends a lot of
his time in his workshop. Just be careful not to step on his
inventions.”
     
    Just then, the carriage slowed to a halt.
Alethia’s face instantly broke into a radiant smile. Katherine
could see a plump older woman in prim clothing and an apron
standing outside a mahogany-colored door, carrying a glowing
lamp.
     
    “We are home,” Alethia said. “Mrs
Potts!”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
Chapter Seven
A Moment Of Lift
     
     
    The Forresters’ house struck Katherine as
extremely intriguing. The moment she walked into the warm interior
from the chilly outside, she was met with a study, of sorts,
replete with shelves of books and a plain-looking settee. As she
walked in further, she could see a large brown door marked
“Workshop” with solid black ink on the left. She could hear faint
banging and metallic sounds.
     
    The right side of the house was dimmed, lit
only with an electric lamp. She could see something glittering – winkwinkwink – and could hear a soft tinkling when a slight
breeze whispered through the house. She found herself curious but
resisted exploring the house immediately. She was, after all,
Alethia’s guest.
     
    Mrs Potts – Alethia’s nanny – showed her the
guest room, a comfortably appointed chamber with a goose-down bed
and thick warm blankets. There was a table with a Ming porcelain
bowl (“For the washing of hands”, explained Mrs Potts to her
curious young visitor) and a jug of water (“”For drinking”.)
     
    Alethia bid her goodnight and was guided
back to her own room by the older woman.