Stars and Steam: Five Victorian Spacepunk Stories (Victoria Eternal)

  STARS & STEAM

  Five Victorian Spacepunk Stories

  Anthea Sharp

  Copyright 2015, 2016 Anthea Sharp. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real events or persons is purely coincidental. The Sun Never Sets originally published in ALT History 101, July 2015. The Perfect Perfume originally published in Fiction River: Alchemy and Steam, May 2015

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away. Support independent authors - read legally. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, other than for review purposes, contact [email protected]. Print copies available at most vendors. Visit the author at www.antheasharp.com and sign up for notifications of new releases at http://eepurl.com/1qtFb

  QUALITY CONTROL: If you encounter any typos or formatting problems, please contact [email protected] so they may be corrected.

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  Steampunk with a twist! Enter a fantastical world filled with alien spacecraft and Victorian sensibilities, formal balls and travel to the stars.

  What if aliens had landed on the Buckingham Palace lawns in 1850 and presented Queen Victoria with a world-changing offer? What if the British Empire, ruled by an unchanging queen, spread out to the stars for centuries?

  Explore this alternate world from USA Today bestselling author Anthea Sharp in five tales filled with ball gowns and nano-tech, steam power and aliens, and the timeless nature of the human heart.

  Table of Contents

  The Sun Never Sets

  The Perfect Perfume

  Passage Out

  Victoria Eternal

  Marianne’s Flight

  The Sun Never Sets

  London, 1850

  Seven degrees above the horizon, she spotted it—a speck of diamond in the deepening twilight. A tiny dot of light that perchance was only a trick of vision, or a wayward dust mote.

  But perhaps something more…

  Miss Kate Danville’s heart raced at the prospect, but she forced herself to remain still. With a deep, steadying breath, she leaned forward and gently twisted the eyepiece of her telescope, careful not to bump the instrument. The pinprick of brightness lost focus, then sharpened.

  She was not mistaken. Certainty flared through her, filling her with warmth.

  The image blurred again, but this time due to her own triumphant tears. Kate sat back and brushed the foolish water from her eyes. She would show them all that her little hobby as Father called it—Mother used stronger words like unsuitable and distastefully unfeminine—was more than simply dabbling in the astronomical arts.

  She, Miss Kate Danville, had discovered a comet!

  Oh, she was not the first women to do so—a handful of amateur astronomers had been the first to spot celestial objects, including her idol, Maria Mitchell, who received the Danish gold medal just two years prior.

  Kate closed her eyes and imagined the King of Denmark presenting her with that accolade in front of an admiring crowd. Why, she might even get to meet the esteemed Ms. Mitchell, and perhaps be inducted into the Royal Society—

  “Beg pardon, miss, but her ladyship sent me up to fetch you to make ready for the ball.” The maid’s reedy voice broke through Kate’s daydream, bringing her down from the stars with a thud.

  She opened her eyes, and was once again simply Miss Kate Danville, perched on the top of Danville House with her telescope and her fancies in the sooty June dusk.

  “I need a bit more time,” she told the maid. “Please tell my mother I must notate my new discovery.”

  The maid gave her a skeptical look, but dropped a curtsy. “I shall, but you know Lady Danville won’t take kindly to that answer.”

  “I am well aware of my mother’s expectations.” They included a proper marriage and Kate’s abandoning her inappropriate scientifical leanings.

  But that disapproval would surely change once Kate’s Comet was officially recognized.

  Time was of the essence, however. Kate bent again to her telescope to jot down the exact location of the bright speck in the sky. If someone else notified the Royal Astronomical Society first, she would be robbed of her discovery. That must not be allowed to happen.

  “Kate!” Her mother’s sharp tones drifted up from the stairwell leading to the attic. “If you don’t come down this instant, I declare I will have your father take your telescope away.”

  Lady Danville would never attempt to navigate the steep stairs—neither her wide skirts nor her temperament would allow the journey—but she was not averse to raising her voice. Or delivering threats.

  “Coming,” Kate called.

  She hastily scribbled a second set of notes, then tucked the precious piece of paper into her pocket. Time to face her mother, and yet another social tedium where the gentlemen asked her whether she liked roses, or droned on about their own accomplishments.

  She blew out an unhappy breath. Lady Danville was determined to see Kate betrothed by the end of the summer, while Kate was equally determined to resist.

  Although, upon further consideration, attending the ball that evening might be for the best. If Viscount Huffton or one of the other Royal Society astronomers were there, she could notify them of her discovery at once.

  ***

  At breakfast two days later, Kate stared at the morning headline in the London Times. Shock stole her breath and held her motionless for a heartbeat.

  “Viscount Huffton Discovers New Comet,” the paper declared.

  No. That weasel had taken credit for her discovery!

  “I won’t stand for it,” she gasped, leaping to her feet and nearly overturning the teapot. “I must pay a call upon Lord Wrottesley at once.”

  Surely, as one of the founding members of the Royal Astronomical Society, he would aid her. She knew he was in London, for the odious Viscount Huffton had mentioned it at the ball. The ball where he had stolen the fruits of her labors. Her hands clenched into fists.

  “Sit down,” her mother said, regarding her sternly over the white damask tablecloth. “What an unladylike outburst. And you have never been introduced to Lord Wrottesley. You cannot simply visit the man—what would he think of such improper behavior?”

  Kate slowly sank back into her chair and used her napkin to mop up the spilled tea. “Please, mother. It’s important.”

  Thank heavens she’d kept her original notes. She only prayed Lord Wrottesley would listen when she explained that she had spotted the comet first, then brought her findings to the viscount. Who was supposed to have reported it to the Royal Society, not claimed the discovery as his own, the worm.

  Lady Danville raised her brows. “Is this matter important enough that you will consent to receive Lord Downing-Wilton tomorrow, should he pay you a visit?”

  Oh, rot it. Kate should have known her mother would take every opportunity to foist a suitor upon her. She closed her eyes a moment, pushing back the scream of frustration bubbling in her throat. When she had mastered herself, she opened her eyes.

  “Of course, mother. Only, we must see Lord Wrottesley today.”

  “So you keep insisting.” Lady Danville regarded her a moment more. “It is most irregular. Perhaps you ought to admit Sir Wexfield into your circle, as well.”

  “As you say.” Kate spoke the words through gritted teeth.

  “And perhaps—”

  “I shall go up and change now.” Kate tossed the tea-stained napkin upon the table. She had lost her appetite completely.
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  “Wear your dove walking dress with the violet trim,” her mother said. “If we are fortunate, Lord Wrottesley will be entertaining gentleman guests when we arrive.”

  As it transpired, and to Kate’s great relief, Lord Wrottesley was at home, and he was alone. The butler ushered them into his cluttered study, where Kate presented her notes and explained the circumstances.

  “Hmph.” Lord Wrottesley peered at the jotted numbers and angles, then shook his head. “That puppy Huffton needs to be taken down a peg. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Miss Danville.”

  Kate slid forward to the edge of her chair. “Does this mean my claim will be upheld?”

  Lady Danville, seated in the adjoining wingback, gave her a placid smile. “Patience, my dear. I’m certain Lord Wrottesley does not like to be rushed. He will do what is best.”

  “But—”

  “Thank you, sir, for your time.” Lady Danville rose. “Certainly you have more pressing concerns than listening to my daughter complain.”

  “Perhaps.” He folded Kate’s notes and tapped them against his hand. “I shall review the evidence and share it with the Royal Astronomical Society. Thank you for your visit, ladies.”

  Before Kate could protest, her mother hauled her to the doorway. She dropped a quick curtsey to Lord Wrottesley, and then the butler shut the study door in her face.

  ***

  Kate spent a wretched two days being polite, if not pleasant, to a stream of gentleman callers. None of them were the least bit interested in discussing any type of science, let alone astronomy, and several of them looked faintly horrified that she would broach the subject at all.

  It was worth it, though, when she received the letter bearing the seal of the Royal Society, confirming that she, Kate Danville, was credited with the discovery of what would henceforth be known as Miss Danville’s Comet.

  Throughout the following week, the mote in the sky grew brighter. First it matched, then overtook, the light of the stars, until it was visible during the day as well as searing the night. Her comet went from being a source of mild speculation to casting a worrisome light over the population of London. Reports soon came in that the comet was affecting every corner of the British Empire.

  Local uprisings, raving prophets, and strange tides were reported regularly in the newspapers, along with sensationalized speculation: the comet would smash into London and devastate the country—nay, the entire world, it was not a comet at all but a vehicle bearing explorers from the stars, the end times were nigh and everyone might as well drink and make merry while they still could. Some took this as a call to rampage about the streets, causing an increasing number of clashes between unruly members of the populace and the constabulary.

  Queen Victoria issued a half dozen regal reassurances—none of which were taken to heart. It was noted that she and Prince Albert sent their children up to Scotland with a coterie of Royal Nannies, prompting an exodus of nobly-born sons and daughters to the countryside.

  Kate, however, refused to go.

  “Mother, I’m seventeen, not a child. And I’ve been invited to court to speak with the queen on Thursday afternoon. Surely you would not deprive me of such a triumph?”

  Social standing won over familial safety, and Kate was allowed to remain in an increasingly turbulent London.

  By Wednesday, the Royal Society astronomers confirmed that the celestial object was, indeed, on a trajectory toward London. They were no longer calling it a comet, however, as it was behaving in a rather perplexing—some might say frightening—manner. The astronomer’s calculations suggested that the object was under its own power, able to make course and speed adjustments.

  Kate had to agree that they appeared to be correct, based on her own observations. In addition, the object grew closer every hour, until it was a looming brightness over the country. Speculation exploded, and apprehension turned to panic as soldiers began to filter into London. The queen exhorted her subjects to remain calm, and expressed her approval of those who chose to carry on with their daily lives.

  Handbills were posted at every corner, bearing Queen Victoria’s profile and the words, “Nothing is certain, except that We will meet this Challenge with Fortitude, Grace, and the Might of God and Empire behind Us. Stay strong and true, Loyal Subjects, and fear not.”

  Kate’s original euphoria at discovering the comet had curdled to an odd mix of pride and guilt. In a way, she felt responsible for whatever was about to happen.

  If she had not first identified that speck in the sky, would it have changed its course? Had the act of observing its approach made its arrival inevitable? Was the Empire, perhaps the entire earth, doomed?

  In a brave attempt at normalcy, the queen and prince continued to keep their court hours at Buckingham Palace. The Prime Minister and most of the peers still in London spent their time cloistered in Parliament, arguing over what course to pursue.

  Thursday dawned bright, with the strange metallic light filtering over the city, and the Danville household made ready for Kate’s appearance at court.

  “Must you tie my laces so tightly?” Kate asked the maid. “I can scarcely breathe.”

  “Not every day you’re invited to the palace, Miss.” Still, the woman left off trying to constrict Kate’s lungs beyond bearing, and fetched the rose muslin day dress from the wardrobe.

  An hour later, appropriately garbed and coiffed and bejeweled, Kate and her mother stepped into their carriage. The footman folded up the steps and closed the door, and the driver set out for the palace. Despite the well-sprung seats, every jolt over the cobblestones sent a jab through Kate. She tried to distract herself by looking out the window, but there was little to be seen. All the fine shops were closed up, and only a few dandies roamed the streets instead of the cream of Society going about their business. Most of the upper crust had departed London for their country estates.

  “Will the looting spread this far?” Kate asked her mother.

  “Of course not. The rabble knows better than to set foot in Mayfair.”

  Despite the clipped assurance in Lady Danville’s tone, Kate could not help noticing that her mother’s gloved fingers were laced tightly together in her lap.

  “Do you think Parliament has come up with a plan?”

  Lady Danville sniffed. “According to your father, nothing but dithering is being accomplished. At least there are plenty of soldiers about. Don’t fret, darling. Everything shall turn out for the best. I have utmost faith in the queen.”

  Kate was not convinced the queen could, by pure force of royal will, keep a meteor from smashing London to smithereens. Yet what else could they do but persevere?

  The approach to Buckingham Palace was crowded with people. Some were shouting for the queen and God to save them, some were exhorting the throng to rush the gates, while others held signs proclaiming the world’s imminent destruction. Overhead, the bright sphere in the sky appeared to be growing larger.

  With the aid of a dozen red-coated soldiers, the carriage managed to push past the press of bodies and through the well-guarded iron gates of the palace. Behind them, Kate heard the crowd murmuring like a restless creature ready to leap from its kennel.

  A shout and the crack of a gunshot made both Kate and her mother jump. Kate’s heartbeat thudded in her chest, and Lady Danville pushed open the window.

  “What is happening?” she demanded, her voice shrill.

  A soldier jumped up, catching the side of the carriage, and the vehicle rocked slightly from his weight.

  “Rest easy, ladies,” he said. “The rabble tried to rush forward, but so far shots fired into the air are keeping them back. We’ll have you to the door in a trice.”

  Lady Danville nodded at him, then patted nervously at her hair. The gates shut behind them with a clang that Kate did not find as reassuring as she ought.

  Their driver pulled the carriage up before the arched entry, and the footman handed Lady Danville and Kate out. Guards stood impassi
vely on either side of the doors, ignoring the strange light overhead and the cries of the crowd.

  A liveried servant waiting before the entryway glanced at the crest on their carriage, then bowed to Kate’s mother.

  “Lady Danville, Miss Danville, you are expected. Please, follow me.”

  He led them into the palace, past the grand sweeping double staircase and down a high-ceilinged hall lined with paintings and the marble busts of former rulers. The air smelled of flowers and lemon polish, with an undertone of must.

  Kate lifted her chin and resolved to remain calm. Although her mother thought the queen only wanted to congratulate her on her discovery, Kate feared an interrogation lay ahead.

  The servant ushered them through a set of tall doors and into an immense room decorated in scarlet and white. The numerous soldiers scattered about the hall looked as though they had been placed there for decoration, in their matching red and white. The ceiling overhead was ornately patterned, but the most imposing sight was at the far end, where Queen Victoria sat upon an elaborately carved and gilt-covered throne.

  A crown set with rubies adorned her brown hair, and her large, dark eyes surveyed the hall from above her thin nose and rounded cheeks. At her side sat Prince Albert, dressed in a military uniform. He was slighter than Kate had anticipated—or perhaps he was simply dwarfed by the queen’s voluminous indigo skirts and penetrating gaze.

  The room was filled with nobility: lords looking somber and consulting their pocket watches, ladies whose laughter sounded a bit too forced, a handful of young bucks who turned and watched the Danville ladies enter with over-bright eyes.

  And a cluster of Royal Society astronomers, including Lord Wrottesley and the contemptible Viscount Huffton. Kate deliberately glared at the man, hoping the viscount would feel the burn of her stare, unmannered though it might be.

  “Wait here,” the servant said, leading Kate and her mother to the side of the room. “The steward will fetch you when the queen is ready.”