The Doomsday Vault

With that off her mind, however, she found herself a bit timid about exploring Norbert’s house, as if she were an interloper. No, that wasn’t quite it. The place intimidated her. The lack of human servants made the place echo like an empty cavern, and machines moved just out of her line of vision. It unnerved her. She knew it was silly-soon she’d be the lady of the place-but she’d put off exploring, even after all these months. It wasn’t as if she had to do much. The automatons took care of the daily chores with no need for Alice to oversee them. Every evening, a spider brought her a punch card with menu choices for the next day’s supper on it, and she poked out the ones she wanted. At her own flat, Kemp helped her dress, and he helped with her hair, and he brought her a tea tray. In fact, Kemp refused to allow any other automaton to wait on Alice at all. Even now Kemp fussed with the pillow on her chair while Alice poured for Louisa and herself.

“Is the room of a comfortable temperature, Madam?” he asked. “My thermometer indicates it may be chilly.”

“It’s fine, Kemp. Thank you.” Alice added pointedly, “I’ll ring if we need anything.”

“Yes, Madam.” Kemp withdrew with stiff formality.

Louisa dropped a sugar cube into her tea. “Is he listening outside the door?”

“Kemp, are you listening at the door?”

“Yes, Madam.”

“Please stop. Go check on Father.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Louisa sipped, then reached for a cake. “Rumor has it you had some mysterious visitors right around the time you became engaged.”

“Really?” Alice said in a neutral tone.

“An airship hovered over your father’s row house for a considerable period just after an entire house disappeared at an estate outside London. And I seem to remember a certain calling card in your room. I have to wonder if these events are connected. Did you write that Teasdale woman?”

“Honestly, Louisa-how do you remember her name after all this time?”

“I remember everything about everyone, darling. That’s what makes me so much fun at parties. So you did write her. Was she the one in the airship? Where did they take you?”

Alice opened her mouth to explain, to tell Louisa about the Third Ward, but what came out were the words, “I can’t talk about it.” And then her mouth clamped shut. She remembered Lieutenant Phipps and her strange pistol full of flashing lights.

“What? I’m your closest friend. I told you about that incident with the undergardener when I was fourteen. Surely you can tell me about this.”

Alice tried again. “I can’t talk about it.” She grimaced. “Louisa, I’m just. . not allowed, all right? Please don’t press. Help me explore the house instead. I haven’t done it properly, and I don’t want to do it on my own.”

“Oh, very well.” Louisa finished her cake and rose. “I can give you decorating advice.”

The first room they came across was a library. Books of all sizes and thicknesses lined enormous shelves and filled the air with the smell of leather and paper. A pigeonhole section contained scrolls. Alice skimmed the titles. Predictably, most of the books dealt with physics, automatics, chemistry, and other sciences. Alice pulled several volumes on automatics and set them on a table. Each one held a punch card in it like a bookmark.

“What are the cards for?” Louisa asked.

“Spiders can’t read,” Alice said. “The punch card tells them what the book is and where it should be shelved.”

“I’ve never been one for reading,” Louisa said. “Except the Times and bombastic fiction, which are much the same thing.”

“You,” Alice said to a spider that was industriously running a feather duster over a set of atlases. The spider paused and turned to face her. “Leave these here, please. I want to read them later.” The spider squeaked once and set back to work.

“You know,” Louisa said as they exited, “everyone who’s anyone is wondering when you’re going to hold some sort of event in this mausoleum. A large tea for the right ladies, a small dinner for forty, perhaps even a dance. You do have a ballroom, don’t you?”

“I think it’s down that way,” Alice said. “And you’re right, of course-it’s what everyone expects.” She thought of issuing invitations, hiring musicians, arranging food, and coordinating service, and more, more, more. Alice grimaced.

“It’s overwhelming,” she said. “I know what to do in theory, but I didn’t grow up watching my mother organize large events and order servants about.”

“I’ll be right here to help, darling-as long as you do something outrageous.”

“Oh, Louisa, I don’t know if that’s me. I’m not Ad Hoc, you know, and I have no plans to become so.”

“I didn’t say scandalous. I said outrageous. We need to get everyone talking about you.”

“You mean they aren’t already?”

Louisa made a noncommital noise. “We’ll start small with the tea I mentioned. They’re appropriate for a fiancee, since Norbie has no other female in his life to handle such things for him. After the wedding, we’ll work through the dinners up to a major ball next season. I think your dinners will have to be exciting in some way, to make sure everyone wants to come.”

Alice gave Louisa’s arm an impulsive squeeze. “What would I do without you, Louisa?”

“Wither and die like the rest of London. What else do we have down here?”

They found a second drawing room, a parlor, a sunporch, a formal dining hall, the aforementioned ballroom, and several exits to the courtyard out back. They also found the kitchen, which was quiet at the moment. A large black stove dominated the back wall. Pots, pans, spoons, skewers, and other implements hung from ceiling hooks. A set of sinks took up most of one corner. Everything was perfectly clean, partly due to the efforts of a large spider, which was currently scrubbing the floor. Several human-shaped automatons in uniforms stood silently by, their blank eyes staring at nothing. One wore a tall chef’s hat.

“You could cook and serve an entire feast with them,” Louisa said. “I have to wonder why your dear fiance employs no human servants. They’d come at less than a tenth the cost.”

“I have no idea,” Alice admitted. “While we were courting, I didn’t bring it up because it felt like prying, and now that we’re… that is, he’s home, I haven’t had a chance to bring it up.”

Kemp appeared at the kitchen door. He carried a salver with a calling card on it. “Madam, a Mr. Richard Caraway to see you. Actually, he asked for Mr. Williamson. And your father is fine. I brought him another book and a cup of milk with brandy.”

“Thank you,” Alice said. “Tell Mr. Caraway that Mr. Williamson is not at home.”

“He claims to have an appointment with Mr. Williamson, and he says it is quite urgent.”

Alice blinked. “Then tell him-never mind. I’ll go.”

“Richard Caraway, Richard Caraway,” Louisa muttered. “Oh yes. Young rake. Father owns tin mines in Wales and recently put Richard in charge of half of them to see how he does.”

“Do you have the entire social register memorized?”

“I told you I like bombastic fiction. Shall I wait here?”

“If you don’t mind. I won’t be long. Kemp, you needn’t come.” Alice started to scurry off, then forced herself to slow to a ladylike pace.

Richard Caraway, a thin, ash-blond man in a dark business suit, all but bolted to his feet as Alice entered the front room. His hat perched on a rack in the corner. He looked both nervous and familiar, but Alice couldn’t place him, and she wished for Louisa’s gift with names and faces.

“I’m sorry you came all this way, Mr. Caraway,” Alice said after introductions and handshakes, “but my fiance isn’t at home, and my father isn’t seeing visitors.”

He blinked pale eyes. “I had an appointment. Wednesday, four o’clock.”

“Oh! There’s the confusion, then. Today is Tuesday, Mr. Caraway.”

He blinked again. “I see. Of course. Sorry to have bothered you.”

“What was the nature of your business with him?” Alice asked, genuinely curious. “I would think most people would go down to the factory or to his office.”

“It was…” He swallowed, staring at her, and Alice felt a little uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Miss Michaels, but I