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Chapter 6: A Gathering Team Part 1

The door shuddered under someone's hammering. Cal muttered under her breath as she wiped oil from her hands and walked toward the door. She and Hans had almost finished testing the new valves.

Sir Shillingsworth forbade running in the house for anything less than an ongoing disaster. Obeying his rules to the letter had been one way Cal kept him close while he traveled the world.

She reached the door and opened it. A frowning man in wrinkled travel clothes stood on the step, trunk set on the cobbles behind him. Brown eyes sized her up and dismissed her.

"I apologize for making you - "

"Shillingsworth needs to hire a higher class of servant. If you were that slow to answer the door in my household, you'd be sacked." A man barely taller than Cal brushed past her and looked around the hall. "Given his reputation, I would have thought he'd do better for himself."

Cal bit her tongue and considered her options. She didn't want to embarrass one of her father's colleagues, but this man's attitude made her want to scream. Politeness, I can always be rude later.

"Again, my apologies," Cal said. The man turned and glared at her, opening his mouth to speak. Cal beat him to the punch. "My father asked me to greet you, Dr. Gostan. I will show you to the parlour where you can relax. Have your man leave your luggage with Hans and he'll take it up to your room."

Dr. Gostan's mouth flopped like a gasping fish as he turned white, then purple, then green. Cal watched with professional interest.

"This way." She headed down the hall. The unsteady clop of his feet followed her. The parlour had been opened, aired out, and topped up with what Pentam had determined necessary to keep scientists happy while final preparations were made.

Once Dr. Gostan, still apparently bereft of speech, had been installed in the parlour, Cal went to her room to change. She hung the oil-spattered smock on a hook she'd asked Hans to install which would hold it clear of anything it could soil. A rag soaked in turpentine cleaned any errant grease off her hands.

Cal looked in the mirror.

Nope, still no beauty, but no grease in my hair. Or at least not that much. She used the rag to remove it. That done, a quick brush and she twisted her hair into a comfortable bun.

A dress from the little-used side of the wardrobe might placate the poor oaf downstairs. She chose one with subtle colours, then headed downstairs. Caught between finishing her work on the last expedition, and the wait for this one to begin, Cal had been appointed to welcome the guests as they arrived.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs another knock directed her steps toward the door.

"Good day, you would be Dr. Franklyn? Father is out, and asked me to make you welcome."

"Thank you, my dear. The locket Shillingsworth carries doesn't do you justice." Dr. Franklyn took her hand briefly. "I left my luggage with Hans. Is that right?"

"Yes." Cal stepped back and took the doctor's coat to hang in the closet. "If you'd follow me to the parlour."

Dr. Franklyn dressed in brown tweed pants and a shirt with no collar. When he'd removed his flat cap, it revealed a bald spot making him look like a religious brother. His eyes twinkled at her, and Cal had the feeling they would have for a maid too.

By the time her father came home, four scientists were gathered in the parlour, and from the level of sound, were engaged in spirited debate.

"Who's here?" Sir Shillingsworth asked as he hung his coat up.

"Dr. Gostan arrived early, and caught me before I had a chance to change. Dr. Franklyn arrived within the half hour, followed by Prof. Ordin and then a man who insisted I call him Lahdin. They are in the parlour."

"Very good, do you plan to join us?" Sir Shillingsworth walked down the hall to the parlour.

"I am a member of the expedition," Cal said, "but not one of the scientists. I don't want to get in the way of any scientific discussion."

Her father turned into his study and sat behind his desk.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He steepled his fingers and looked steadily at her.

"Go along on this expedition and be part of discovering new things?" Cal's gut twisted. Her father had been growing less enthusiastic about her being part of the team. He hadn't said as much, but she'd gradually been excluded from meetings with sponsors of the trip. "Of course I want to go. Lord Carroway expects me to be on that ship and making a journal of whatever we encounter. "

"Some would say a ship, even a science vessel, is no place for a young lady." Sir Shillingsworth leaned forward, his face turning red. Cal knew no other person he allowed himself to show any emotion to; not even her mother, not even at her funeral.

No mercy.

"Good thing Miss DeBantiche has never been able to mold me into a lady." Cal glared at him. "It has been a frequent complaint. I'm twenty-one, and I think you must accept by this time, me being a lady is highly unlikely."

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