CHAPTER 26: IN WHICH BREAKFAST IS HAD AND EMOTIONS RUN HIGH

~*~

When Snips finally awoke, she was surprised to find herself in a rather comfortable bed, stashed away in Mr. Watts' manor house. She could tell it was Mr. Watts' manor house because the far wall was missing—instead, she had a lovely view of the distant trees and a sweeping waterfall that flowed down and splashed across the edge where the floor ended.

She blinked groggily and moved to sit up; at once, a blossoming flare of pain erupted in her left side. Deciding to take her body's advice, she dropped back into bed and tried to piece together all that had happened.

Before she got very far, she discovered she was not alone.

"Good morning, Miss Snips," Miss Primrose announced, stepping into the room. She was dressed in a fresh gown, as conservative as ever. However, a new bandage was attached to her forehead and her right arm was in a sling. "I trust you are doing well?"

"Hat," Snips croaked.

"Oh, yes. I forgot," Miss Primrose said, reaching to the front of the bed. Snips' favored hat sat on top of a bedpost; she quickly nudged it over. Snips snatched it up greedily and shoved it on her head.

"What happened?" Snips asked, finding her voice was rough from lack of practice. "How long was I out?"

"Only for the rest of the night," Miss Primrose explained.

"You've suffered a few mild injuries, nothing too grievous.

Apparently, you had a mild concussion."

"William—" She began. "There was something on his chest. I can’t recall the details, but—is he all right?"

"He is," Miss Primrose said, nodding. "It’s actually quite an amazing phenomenon, Miss Snips. His heart is a machine."

"Figures," Snips said, and then she laughed, looking down at herself. Her previous attire was long gone; in its place was one of Miss Primrose's ivory nightgowns. Snips glared furiously as she drew the covers up over it. "Uh, do you have my old clothes?"

"Yes, but they are in a wretched state at the moment," Miss Primrose said. "At the very least, I insist that you allow them to be properly cleaned before wearing them once more."

"Where is William?"

"Downstairs. But please, Miss Snips. Rest. You've been under considerable strain," she said.

Snips closed her eyes, laying back against the pillow. "I didn't get a chance to tell you what I found out last night—"

"Neither did I," Miss Primrose said, looking down at the floor.

"Mr. Eddington didn't kill Copper—"

"Count Orwick has closed the case—"

Both spoke simultaneously; both gave the other a start.

When they had calmed down a bit, they explained each other's discoveries in turn; Miss Primrose's realization that Orwick wanted them to continue the case in an unofficial capacity, and Snips'

discovery that Eddington was not responsible, but another party was—controlling Mr. Eddington for unknown reasons.

"This man in the jackal mask you mentioned," Miss Primrose said. "Do you know him?"

"No," Snips replied begrudgingly. "But I know the fellows he works for."

"Who?"

"The same ones who probably gave William his mechanical heart," Snips said. "The Society of Distinguished Gentlemen."

"It sounds like some sort of polite book club," Miss Primrose said.

"In a way, that's what it is," Snips said. "But I can assure you, their intentions are anything but polite. Look, I need to speak to William. There are some very important things he needs to know."

"Very well," Miss Primrose said.

~*~

William was enjoying breakfast with Jacob near the docks; although they were immersed in conversation, they both quieted down when Snips limped her way out and towards William. Jacob suddenly excused himself ("A certain matter concerning a certain private who will remain unnamed," he explained), leaving the two alone.

Snips sat down across from William. William cleared his throat and studied his half-eaten plate of eggs.

"Hey," Snips said, flustered.

William looked up. Arcadia was wearing her patchwork hat and a nightgown; somehow, the ensemble managed to make even her look vulnerable. Some long forgotten memory tugged at the corner of his mind, but he dismissed it. "Good morning."

"Morning," Snips said, looking down.

"Thank you for saving my life."

"Uh, no problem," she said, still peering down at her feet.

"William?"

"Hm?"

"Can I tell you something—something personal?"

"Certainly."

Snips looked up, meeting William's eyes with her own.

"When I was a little girl, I ran away from home. Stupid reasons. I wanted to find my father. I wanted to make it on my own. Kid stuff like that," she said. "After I found him, I ended up on the streets."

"I understand," William said.

"No, you don't," Snips replied. "You think you do, but you don't. A guy like you? The hardest decision you've ever had to make was probably whether to have your eggs fried or poached.

Me, I've spent most of my adult life making decisions like whether it's worth bashing a fellow's skull in to avoid getting locked up.

You get what I'm saying?"

"No," William said. "I don't."

"I'm not a nice person, William. Oh, I can act the part," she said, "but that's just when the situation lets me. When the decisions are easy. Like, right now, if I wanted to have one of those strips of bacon there—"

"Would you like one?" William asked, holding the plate up.

Snips sighed. "That's what I'm talking about. All I've got to do is ask, and hey, food. But put me in a situation where eating means breaking somebody's nose? And I'll do that too. I just don't want you to get the wrong impression about me, alright? Because you've seen me when I don't have to get nasty, and you might start to think I'm a nice, pleasant sort of person—"

"I don't think you're a nice, pleasant sort of person," William said.

Snips eyed him critically. William smiled meekly.

"I mean, I like you, but I don't like you because you seem to be pleasant," William continued. "I don't know what you've done in your past, but I also know that I do not care. Perhaps that makes me irresponsible and selfish? I do not know. But, for some reason, I feel as if I can trust you. You've given me no reason to believe otherwise."

"That's stupid," Snips said. "You realize how easy I could scam you? Maybe this is all a con."

"Pretend to be good long enough and you may one day succeed in fooling even yourself."

Snips shook her head. "That's silly," she said, but she didn't push the point. Instead, she dropped her eyes down to his chest. "I see you’re doing well enough. Not broken, anyway?"

"No, not at all," William said. "It's functioning quite well."

"Good," she said. "I mean, good that it’s still working. Um, so. Do you know where you got it?"

"The heart?" William asked. "My father, I believe, although I never was told the full story; only that my original heart was too weak to carry me."

"William, there are so many things I need to tell you,"

Snips said. "I know things about him—Professor Daffodil. I didn’t say anything before, because I was so thrown off when you mentioned he was your father, and I wasn’t sure about you or what you wanted, but—"

William smiled, reaching out to touch the back of Snips’

hand. "It’s all right. I already know a little bit, at least."

Snips stiffened with surprise. "You—you do?"

"Yes. I know that he worked with your father."

"Wait, what? How do you know that?"

"Your father told me."

Snips drew her arm away with a snap. "He what?"

William slid back defensively. "I went to him, yesterday morning. I had seen a copy of my umbrella there, among his trinkets on the shelf, and I wanted to know—"

Snips’ voice dropped to a low and forceful hiss. "You spoke to my father? You spoke to him alone?"

"Well, yes, you were gone, and I wanted to know more about—"

Snips’ arm flew forward with a strength that William didn’t even realize she had. At once, she had seized him by the collar and dragged him halfway across the table; fine china tumbled to the dock and clattered along the planks. "Do you have any idea what you did? How much danger you put yourself in? Do you have any concept of who my father is, or what he’s capable of? The things he’s done?"

William was momentarily cowed by the fierce show of violence; but a fiery indignation flourished in his eyes. "How on earth am I supposed to know anything about him? You didn’t even tell me who he was. Besides, he hardly seems like a monster—"

"Don’t you dare think of defending him. Not even for an instant," Snips snarled, hurling him back to his chair. William nearly toppled. Snips rose over the table, slamming both hands down atop it. For a moment, she resembled the dragons he had admired in tapestries of old as a boy; William had a notion that streams of smoke would swirl out of her nostrils and she would incinerate him in a blast of flame. "If you knew a fraction of what I did about him—"

William scurried up to his feet. "What? Does he secretly devour babies by moonlight? I imagine someone has to bring them to him and mash them up for his dinner, seeing how he’s essentially a mummy now," William snapped back. "If this bothers you so much, then why don’t you just tell me the truth instead of shouting at me and treating me like a child?"

"Because you are a child," Snips growled. "You run around and thrust your head into danger at every opportunity. If you’re not trying to put out fires, you’re getting yourself kidnapped or trying to play hero. What the hell were you even thinking back there, grabbing that gun like that? That assassin could have torn you in two by looking at you funny."

Rather than back down, William roused himself up and slapped his palms on the table right in front of Snips’. "The same thing you were thinking, Miss Snips. I wanted to help."

"And all you managed to do was nearly get me shot," Snips fired back.

William stiffened at that; something about the mathematician seemed to change. Rather than reply, he reached for his hat and umbrella, donning both as he walked off the deck.

Rather than feeling triumphant, Snips deflated to her chair.

She watched as William left, then stewed over the remains of his breakfast.

"Bloody hell’s bells," she said, sinking her head into her hands.

It was not long before Miss Primrose emerged from the house to join Snips, looking about for William.

"Where did Mr. Daffodil go?" she said.

"Away," Snips said, huffing out a sigh. "Miss Primrose, can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

"What do you know about men?"

"Only that they are monstrous and inscrutable creatures, best avoided at every opportunity," Miss Primrose said.

"I see," Snips said.

Miss Primrose paused, glancing back over her shoulder towards the distant figure of Jacob Watts. He had extended both of his hands, and was sporting a legion of pigeons on either arm; he seemed to be lecturing them all on the proper conduct of an officer.

"Actually," she said, "I am being somewhat unfair."

"Eh?"

"Mr. Watts has always been especially kind, if not necessarily sane," Miss Primrose said. "He took me in and sheltered me when there was absolutely no need to do so, and has always sought to do right for me. In fact, beyond his penchant for madness, I have yet to see a negative quality manifested in the man," she added, before looking back to Snips. "Kind-hearted people are difficult to find. But they do exist."

Snips sat up. "Hm," she said, thinking.

"So," Miss Primrose said, changing the subject. "What do we do now? The case is closed, our primary suspect is no longer one, and our only lead is an odd sort of gentleman’s club."

"Now? Now, we solve the case," Snips said, and then she stood. "But first, I’ve got to go try something different."

"Something different, Miss Snips?"

"Telling the truth," Snips said, walking on after William.

She hadn’t gotten three steps before Miss Primrose cleared her throat. "You might consider attempting to tell the truth in something other than a night gown."

"Oh," Snips said, suddenly looking down at herself.

"Right."

~*~