Lily Marin - three short steampunk stories. Book 2.



  Lily Marin - three short steampunk stories.

  Book 2

  by Paul Kater

  Alexandria Publishing Group

  Copyright 2012 Paul Kater

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  Contents:

  Lily and the burglar in the night

  Lily and the next doctor

  Lily and the count

  About the author

  About the Alexandria Publishing Group

  Lily and the burglar in the night.

  "Miss Marin, Miss Marin!" The words were accompanied by a light but insistent rapping on the front door.

  Lily recognised the voice of her neighbour's son, Dudley. There had to be something impressive for him to make such a racket, so she put away her book, got up from the couch and went to the door, meanwhile calling out that she was on her way. "And please do not knock down the door!"

  The knocking on the door stopped, but Dudley managed one more "Miss Marin!" before she opened.

  "Dudley. Good morning. What is so urgent, young man?" Lily greeted him. Dudley, she knew, loved being called a 'young man'. After all, he was twelve years of age already.

  The young man smiled up at her and held out an envelope, whilst he rubbed the knuckles of his other hand, the one that clearly had done the knocking, on his clean blue shirt. "I have an envelope for you, Miss Marin," he stated, quickly grabbing his cap from his head.

  Lily smiled. "An envelope? Are you not a little young to write love letters, Dudley? And did you hurt your hand?"

  Dudley looked a bit surprised. "Oh, no, it is not from me, Miss Marin, it's from Mrs. Moore who got it from Mrs. Henley who asked Mrs. Moore to give it to me to give it to you." Then he looked a bit confused, as he tried to retrace his own words. A nod told Lily that he approved of what he had just said. "And my hand is fine, thank you very much."

  Lily accepted the envelope. "Thank you, Dudley. You are a very good postman."

  "If I can help you, Miss Marin, then I will help you," the young boy said, straightening himself to his full length. "My Mum says it is good to help other people, and it is nice to help you, because you are nice."

  Lily glanced at the small table that was close to the door. Usually there were some pennies on it.

  "Oh..."

  Dudley had already left, before she could give him something for his trouble. With a smile she closed the door. Next time she'd have the money in hand.

  As she walked back to the couch, where her book and her tea were patiently waiting, she opened the envelope. Lily wondered what was in it. She knew Mrs. Moore remotely, but she had no idea who Mrs. Henley was.

  'Dear Miss Marin,' the letter started. It was written in a small and meticulous hand. 'Please allow me to introduce myself through this letter. My name is Agatha Henley and I lead the local ladies' choir.'

  Lily dropped the hand holding the letter in her lap. "What? If they think..." Her curiosity was peaked however, and made her read on.

  'We have heard that your voice would be a valuable addition to our choir. A family member of one of our ladies has stated this, and therefore we would be delighted if you were to consider visiting one of our choir practices. I do hope I am not imposing on you, Miss Marin, we are just pleased to offer you an opportunity to expand your singing abilities, as we all are trying to do. With kindest regards, Agatha Henley.'

  Below that, an address was written, informing Lily where the ladies' choir would assemble next Wednesday around two in the afternoon. Lily read the letter twice, then put it aside. "I doubt that, Mrs. Agatha Henley. Your kind of ladies is not who I mingle with." She picked up her book. And put it down, to look at the letter again.

  -=-=-

  The carriage stopped. "We're there, miss," the driver called down.

  Lily left the carriage and handed the man his money. As the horse pulled the carriage away, in search of a new customer, the singer looked at the letter, to be certain she was at the right address. She was.

  The street was in a rather posh area of town, one that Lily hardly ever visited except for performances, and those were only few in this neighbourhood. Determined, she walked to the building that carried the proper house number.

  She pushed against the door which for no apparent reason was standing ajar, and as she entered the long corridor that lay hidden behind it, a soft jumble of distant voices drifted towards her. Ladies' voices. Singing voices that had not yet decided on working together, she grinned to herself. If this was a sign of what she was going to face...

  The hallway floor was covered in rich red carpeting. Lily sank into it upto her ankles, and she had to lean against the wall as not to lose her balance. The walls were decorated with beautiful patterns, and as she touched the material she knew it was silk. Cherubs with ribbons in crucial places, exotic birds, and flowers she had never seen were the main motives. A very eclectic combination, she decided.

  Lily walked further down the corridor, listening at the various pattern-rich, handcrafted doors she encountered, but none of the rooms behind those seemed to harbour the choir. At the end of the walk she found a staircase, and at the foot of that it became evident that the voices came from above.

  As there was no living soul in the corridor to ask permission of, Lily ascended the stairs. Once there, she could not go wrong where the ladies of the choir were: a wide-open door gave view into a large, brightly lit room where the singing came from. She looked at the women there and suddenly felt shy. Her dress, which was one of the better ones she owned for daily use, looked very plain and common compared to the garments the ladies of the choir wore.

  "Oh, look who is there!"

  The sudden loud voice shook Lily out of her contemplations and she noticed an elderly woman walking up to her. The woman, her hair was almost white, wore a fashionable deep blue dress. She held her hands out to Lily, as she said: "Welcome, dear Miss Marin. I am delighted that you chose to come to our rehearsal."

  "I'm sorry, Madam, but you have the advantage over me. I'm afraid I do not know your name."

  "Oh, please, no such formality here, Miss Marin, I am Agatha Henley." The woman put an arm through Lily's and guided her into the room, where she was quickly introduced to the other ladies, fifteen in all.

  Then Mrs. Henley offered her tea and scones, which were quickly brought along by one of the younger ladies, a chubby woman by the name of Corynthia Winterbottom, who wore a dress that was too yellow and had too many ribbons and fluff.

  Lily decided it made the young woman look like an overgrown chick. Mrs. Winterbottom's chirpy voice made the comparison even more spot on.

  All the ladies in the room called Mrs. Henley 'Mrs. Henley', so Lily decided that she should do that as well. Clearly the lack of formality had its boundaries.

  All singing had come to an end as everyone was talking to Lily now, asking questions, and telling things about their lives. Most of them, Lily found, did not have a life. Of course she kept this knowledge to herself.

  Then Mrs. Henley directed the ladies into a wide half-circle and told Lily that they would sing a few examples of what the choir performed normally.

  Lily enjoyed the songs. The choir was quite good even, considering they were amateurs, but they could do with a few little changes. After all, Lily'd had proper musical training for a while, so she knew something about the subject.

  "If you would allow me, Mrs. Henley..." Lily said as the directing lady asked
her what she thought of the songs and the singing.

  Lily asked the ladies to sing a line from the song in turn, and then moved them left and right, giving tips on voice control, singing louder or less loud, and then she asked the choir to sing again. And again.

  -=-=-

  "This was amazing, Miss Marin," Mrs. Henley said as practising time for the choir had ended. "I had a feeling that you would be an asset for the choir, but that you would be able to make us sing so much better, that I had never dared to dream."

  "You are not singing better," Lily explained, "I just worked out how the voices would be more harmonious."

  "We would gladly see you become a regular singer with us," said Mrs. Annette Goldblum, who had been surprised to learn that she was a decent mezzo-alto. The poor woman had been straining her voice into forced almost-soprano parts and never quite made it there.

  Lily, in her heart, had already decided that she liked this group of people. It was so unlike her, she thought, but this felt good. She had been alone for so long, singing solo. Perhaps this was a nice way to further her experience, and eventually even move up a little bit in society. If just a tiny bit.

  "I really would like to come more often," Lily shared, and promised to be at the next rehearsal.

  Many hugs and 'welcome to the choir's later, the ladies descended the large staircase, to the heavily carpetted corridor, and from there they