Chapters two and three
I have a break between classes on Monday and Wednesday, so today I sat down during my break and wrote chapters two and three of my steampunk story.

Really, calling it a steampunk story is misleading, and I shouldn't have done that, because it colors the reader's expectations. I SHOULD have simply said that it was a Victorian story.

Anyway, I like the way chapters two and three have gone so far, though they're too short for chapters of a novel. I think they're about right for chapters of a novella, though. I guess to be fair, Victorian novels sometimes had short chapters (For example, in Rasselas, which I'm using as a model for writing chapter titles). I'll just play it by ear.

Jonathan versus Nicholas

Chapter One: In Which Mr. Jonathan Darby is Given a Strange Assignment.
Chapter Two:

Chapter Two: Our Unlikely Hero Boards a Train And Learns of His Role in Things to Come

The next morning, Jonathan arrived at the train station early for, as the Romans would have said, “there is nothing like the threat of violence to inspire a man.” When he reached the train platform, he dropped his valise to the ground and looked around with a considerable degree of trepidation, searching for the head and shoulders of Mr. Furnis above the crowd.

It took hardly any time at all to locate Mr. Furnis, whose natural size was bolstered by the bowler hat resting on his head that was very likely a size too small. Mr. Furnis caught sight of him simultaneously and the expressions that crossed his face were, in order: hate, annoyance, contemplation and sadistic pleasure. This particular progression of emotions presented a much more frightful vision to Jonathan than a straightforward expression of hate. Mr. Furnis made his way through the crowd to where he stood.

“Well, well!” he belted out. “If it isn’t my good mate, Mr. Darby!” Mr. Furnis’s mouth formed itself into a broad, cruel smile.

“Good day, sir,” Jonathan responded. “I, um. It, err, appears that we are to be traveling together for a short time.”

“Oh, it does, does it? Instead, why don’t you go back to the office and let the real men do their work?”

“I would love that very much, sir,” Jonathan persevered, “but I was given direct orders from Misters Herbert and Georges to be your assistant on this trip.”

Mr. Furnis swore. “Those old bastards told me that they were sending someone with me, but they didn’t say who. Now I know why, eh? I bet they wanted you out of their hair. Not like they have any left!” Mr. Furnis let loose a loud guffaw that startled several passers-by.

“Yes, of course, as you say, sir,” Jonathan said. He believed that it was in poor taste to speak ill of one’s employer, but so much of Mr. Furnis was already in poor taste that he thought it prudent to just let it go without comment.

“Very well, young Mr. Darby,” Mr. Furnis said when he had calmed down from his uproarious joke. “It’s just my luck to get stuck with the worst of the lot, but I suppose there’s nothing to be done. Get your bag and get on the train.”

Jonathan picked up his valise and accompanied Mr. Furnis onto the train. Two things were a relief to him; the first was that Mr. Furnis seemed to be ignorant of his real task and the second was that Mr. Furnis seemed disinclined to physical violence at the moment. It afforded Jonathan no peace of mind that either of those things could change at any moment.

They arrived at their compartment and discovered that it was empty. It appeared, to Jonathan’s unease, that they would be alone together. After sitting down and settling in, an awkward silence arose between the two of them.

Jonathan cleared his throat. “Mr. Furnis, sir, what is our business in Highbridge?”

“You mean the old chaps didn’t tell you?”

“Err, no.”

“Of course you didn’t ask, either. You really are completely and utterly useless, aren’t you?”

“It would certainly seem that way, yes, sir.”

Mr. Furnis glanced at him sharply. “Don’t take that tone with me, Mr. Darby.”

A few moments went by in silence while Jonathan thought of a number of responses and then discarded them. He was startled when Mr. Furnis began talking again.

“We’ve been robbed,” he said.

“What!” Jonathan said, reaching for his valise. “When?”

“Not us, you dolt! The bank. Money has gone missing from the Highbridge branch. That’s why we’re going.”

“Oh,” Jonathan said, sighing with relief. “I see.”

“The old fools are worried that it was an inside job, see? So they’re sending me to go… find out.”

Something was suddenly made clear to Jonathan: Mr. Furnis was more than simply the office foreman, he was the office muscle. His method of ‘finding out’ would very likely include broken bones and the loss of teeth. Misters Herbert and Georges needed Mr. Furnis for this purpose, but they didn’t know if they could trust him, so they were sent\ding him along as a pair of eyes to go with Mr. Furnis’s muscle. If Mr. Furnis was involved with the robbery in some way, he would have to at some point acquire the money that was stolen, and Jonathan needed to be there when it happened.

“I see,” Jonathan said, meaning it.

The train jerked as it began moving on its several-hour journey southwest to Highbridge, leaving Jonathan’s known realm behind and heading somewhere that made him very, very uncomfortable.

Chapter Three:



Chapter Three: Personal Revelations are Exchanged on Board a Train

The train chugged along, giving Jonathan a view of the English countryside that was only mildly obscured by the rain. The sun tried in vain to burn away the mist that accompanied the rain while he and Mr. Furnis looked on impassively. They had been sitting in silence for nearly two hours, according to his pocket watch, when Mr. Furnis again spoke up.

“Tell me something, Mr. Darby,” he said. “What are you doing in accounting? You’re bloody awful at it.”

Jonathan hesitated for a moment. “My father was an accountant.”

“And?”

Jonathan sighed. “You see, my father was an accountant, and a very successful accountant, at that. He believed that I should follow in his footsteps and be the best accountant in England right up until the day he died. At last, I thought, I’ll be free of this terrible burden of accountancy. But when I brought the subject up with my mother, she would have none of it. She said I needed to honor my father’s memory and when I insisted, she fainted! So what else could I do?”

Mr Furnis guffawed obnoxiously and Jonathan gritted his teeth. “Boy, how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-four years old.”

“For goodness sake, get out from under your mother’s skirts, man! Just because we have a queen, God bless her, doesn’t mean that your mother is Queen Victoria.”

“It is a man’s duty to be true to his family!” Jonathan said, his face heating up. “If you were a proper gentleman, sir-“ He bit the rest off before he could finish, but Mr. Furnis got a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

“If I were a proper gentleman what, Mr. Darby?” he said, softly.

Jonathan cleared his throat nervously. “Ah, I believe that I, err, got caught in the heat of the moment and misspoke myself, Mr. Furnis, sir. I offer my humblest apology. In no way did I intend to impugn your gentlemanliness.”

The dangerous look on Mr. Furnis’s face was split by a wide grin, followed closely by his loud, grating guffaw. “I was just fooling with you, Mr. Darby.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” he said, and could summon only a very weak laugh. It hadn’t been a very funny joke from where he was sitting.

“I know I’m not what most stuck-up, stuffed-shirt pantywaisters like yourself would consider a gentleman. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“But being gentlemanly doesn’t get a man very far where I grew up, on the streets.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Mr. Furnis, sir.”

“Oh, stop it, you stuffy bastard. You can call me Henry when we’re alone together. Furnis isn’t really my name, anyway. They used to call me Furnace on the street, because of my temper, you see? I didn’t have a last name, so I figured that was as good as any.”

Jonathan simply stared at him. To say that it was unusual for Mr. Furnis – Henry – to talk this much was like saying that it was unusual to see a dog play the piano.

“Alright, Henry.”

“I’m going to need you to back me up when we get to Highbridge, John,” he said, not bothering to ask if he could call him John. “I need to be able to trust you. We could be walking into anything in Highbridge. The whole town could be corrupt, for all we know. Do you want to hear where they said the money went?”

“Very well.”

“They said a flying man took it!” Henry said, laughing. “A flying man! Do you believe that?”

“A flying man,” he echoed.

“That’s right, a flying man. Let me tell you something, John. Magical flying men don’t just swoop out of the sky and steal money from a bank.”

“I would be inclined, at first glance, to be in complete agreement with you, mister… Henry.”

Their conversation trailed off, but Jonathan was left wondering exactly what he had gotten himself into, though he suspected that either Mr. Furnis was very, very clever or he wasn’t involved in this robbery after all. That left the possibility that he and Mr. Furnis were walking into a town that could be filled with any number of people who would want them gone. It was beginning to look as though being given a beating by his foreman was the least of his worries.