Romance

Chapter Thirteen.
(First etiquette lessons, A need of physic, A silly episode, and Professional work)

Mrs Cambridge helped Iris quietly escort the metal men into the kitchen. Where thick walls protected the mechanical babies from all but the worst of the shouting. Both automatons huddled under the table clung to each other in abject misery.

Iris helped them drink cool water to help refill their boilers, and calmed them with a nonsense song that her own mother had used when Iris had felt out of sorts. And cleaned their face plating with an old rag.

"No meaning be mean," said Rabbit in the end. "Wanted the pretty."

"We ask when we want things," soothed Iris. "And we are patient if the answer is 'no'."

"Not fair," grumbled Rabbit. "Wanted it."

They were machines who had just watched themselves get put together. Of course they didn't understand. "People don't come apart like you do," she tried. "And it's wrong to make them."

The Spine bubbled and whined, it was difficult to understand him, but Iris swore she heard, "Self bad. Self wrong."

"You didn't do anything," said Iris.

"Yes," bubbled The Spine. "Is why Self bad."

Poor babies. "You've both got so much to learn," she told them. "This is your first day in this wicked world, of course you're going to get things wrong. But that never means that you are wrong. Please remember that."

"...'es, Ma..." mumbled The Spine.

Iris would spend some time regretting that she didn't correct him there and then. But she was quickly distracted by limping footfalls and the sound of Colonel Walters voice.

"I'll need some ice, please, Mrs Cambridge." He sat heavily by the kitchen table.

Iris crawled out first, followed by Rabbit and then The Spine, who climbed Rabbit to achieve verticality.

Colonel Peter Walter was a mess. He'd evidently received a drubbing at the hands of his father. Bruises bloomed across his face and blood oozed thickly from various cuts. He was out of breath and his white coat was torn.

Iris rushed for the first aid, tending him as automatically as she had tended her brothers. He did not struggle against her ministrations. Not even when she got him down to shirtsleeves and began unbuttoning that.

"People don't come apart and it's wrong to make them," said Rabbit, echoing her words.

"I'm not taking Pappy apart, I'm just taking some clothes off so I can see where he's hurt." Just as she'd feared, he'd blocked some blows with his arms. She sponged his injuries with a brine, and began applying lint and bandages. Nothing needed stitches, thank goodness.

"That's professional work, Miss Iris," said Colonel Walter appreciatively. "I've never seen a neater bandage in all my years. Not even from the experts."

Iris continued applying them. "Six brothers and a rough neighbourhood," she explained . "I'm no doctor, but I know my physic."

Mrs Cambridge returned with an ice bag to press against the Colonel's bruises. "What did he do to you now?"

"I had one of my silly episodes. The Admiral my father set about curing me," he said in a perfectly matter-of-fact monotone. "He stopped when I went down, this time."

Miss Verity Ponsonbury may have had a lucky escape, but Colonel Walter paid for it in full.

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Chapter Twelve.
(Miss Verity Ponsonbury, The wrong kind of beast, The wrong kind of babies, and A flight in tears)

Miss Verity Ponsonbury smiled her airy smile as she tried her hardest to work out what was going on. Her dear Papa, Sir Etherington Ponsonbury, had received a letter that morning that had made him very happy indeed.

Papa had spent a majority of the morning insisting that Verity put on her very best grownup dress - she had been saving it

Chapter Eleven.
(Brand new twins, Find the Lady, Afternoon tea, and The peril of a bad match)

Iris could tell that the Admiral had crept back to listen in. The arrogant fellow was in for a boring afternoon, because all he could hear was the Colonel lecturing her about his intentions for his machines. Her rare contributions to what passed for conversation were variations on "This one?" or, "Here."

At least she had the chance to keep it mostly neat as she

Chapter Ten.
(An absence of sandwiches, A sudden chill, Miss Iris to the rescue, and Rabbit talks)

Peter didn't notice that he'd been working all night until he heard Miss Iris clear her throat. Oh. The little table had become covered over again.

He chuckled and moved the pile of mechanical limbs. "I'm so close to the ultimate breakthrough... I've nearly got it."

"Breakfast," said Miss Iris. "You missed dinner, so I made extra."

He sniffed the air. Not a hint of

Chapter Nine.
(Acting for her life, Five pounds of snuff, A peculiar turn, and Enthusiastic gratitude)

Iris focused intently on the carpet. The Pembrookes' lessons had included acting for a reason. And now she was acting for her life, as well as the lives of all the maids working under the Admiral. Her part was now the shy and demure maid, only after an honest day's work. And one who had no clue what the Admiral was on about.

She kept her

Chapter Eight.
(Plans gone awry, High-pitched screaming, The special snuff, and The devil in a pinafore)

Admiral Walter tried to stir up his idiot son's sense of chivalry by causing a ruckus among the maids. Sooner or later, that dunderhead had to find himself in a scene where he would have to rescue one or more of them.

But that plan rather hoped that the boy would come downstairs from his toys more than once a day. Therefore he laid in wait

Chapter Seven.
(Pembrooke’s Finishing School for Discerning Ladies, A confusion of betterment, A nice chat, and An old ally)

Sunday arrived far too early and far too late. She was not yet ready to walk the streets of San Diego in confidence on her own... And the Admiral had taken to menacing the girls, even when they were in pairs. The maids took to traveling everywhere in threes and fours.

Today, this Sunday, everyone else had other business. She was the

Chapter Six.
(The dreadful sandwich reappears, An attempt at a decent meal, A close call, and A good tidying)

Early to bed and early to rise, it is said, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. Once Admiral Reginaldfield Chesterpot Walter had achieved the 'wealth' part of that trio, he completely surrendered any efforts to accomplish the rest. He didn't rise until after ten and didn't leave his bedchamber much before noon.

Mrs Cambridge saw to his wants.

Which gave Iris plenty

Chapter Five.
(From the frying pan to the fire, Mrs Cambridge to the rescue, The threat of diaries, and A miserable night’s sleep)

Her master caught her up as she was running for the sanctuary of the kitchen and the servant's quarters in the cellar. He lifted her off her feet, causing her to scream at the top of her lungs and fight with all the strength she had.

Elbows, knees, nails, feet, and even teeth came into play. All the

Chapter Four.
(Neutral territory, The Admiral’s survivors, The Admiral’s victims, and Dinner happens once a day)

Peter carried her all the way to the library. One of the demilitarised zones in the perpetual battle between himself and the old man. Laid her carefully on one of the couches there and, with a thought to her sense of decency, covered her stockinged legs with a throw his late mother had made.

Poor Ma. The doctors said she perished from hysterical melancholy.

Chapter Three.
(Formal Dinner, The suffragette’s critique, Goods on display, and An insufferable situation)

Dinner was a very stiff affair. Starched collars and cuffs and near-strangling black ties. The Admiral Walter wore it like a second skin, while the young master wore it rather like a straight jacket.

Iris, and a good half-dozen other maids in similarly brief uniforms, stood decoratively around the room. All well within the young master's line of sight. She had managed to find his bedchamber, conspired

Chapter Two.
(Miss Iris learns the ropes, That which needs fixing, The dreadful sandwich, and The cheeky copper head)

Iris scurried after Mrs Cambridge, skirts held fast in both hands.

"No doubt he's told you not t' do something 'til you're fixed somehow. You can forget about that with me."

"Said I shouldn't talk, m'm. Said me accent needed fixin'."

"Uhuh. Irish. There's those who lord it over any they see as lesser, and our master the Admiral has an entire list

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Chapter One.
(A new hire, The mis-pronounced Mrs Cambridge, Ominous forebodings, and Perplexing romantic gestures)

Admiral Reginaldfield Chesterpot Walter peered over his desk at the new maid. Most of her hair was demurely wound up in a cap, but a few escaped tendrils declared her to be a