2. Godfrey/Eleanora

The carriage ride through London’s crowded, congested streets took them over an hour. Eleanora didn’t mind however, almost as soon as they set off a menagerie of sights had her practically glued to the windows, nearly standing up in the stagecoach out of excitement.

It was a filthy city, there was no doubt about that, grime covered every cobble and clogged every ditch. Coal burn hung thick in the air and the smell of the city general was something horrible. However with every horror came a marvel. Human sized automatons stomped through busy side lanes, working their ways to and from factories, their brass hulls dingy with corrosion and grime, their eyes burning as they rotated thick metal heads, ensuring they avoided other passersby.

Large rail networks hung suspended above the city streets. Their trams chugging over them, causing Eleanora to crane her neck up and out of the window just to see them. They rolled overhead, making a guttural roaring noise and spewing out thick acrid smoke from their engines all over windows and terraces, which had long been sealed shut. At times they dipped below ground, or paused at crowded stations to take on new passengers.

And the people! All different kinds seemed to have been crowded into the city, Slaves from Africa tailed their masters through the streets, diplomats and merchants from India and the Orient perused shops and markets, she even saw what she assumed must have been a king! A king from a strange land where the Empire’s reach had not yet grasped. She stared at him and his entourage with fascination, almost tempted to ask the carriage driver to stop for a moment.

Godfrey, of course, seemed entirely disinterested in any of the sights. He instead got his entertainment by watching his woman clamber all about the cart, leaning over him and out the windows, gawking and gaping in a most unladylike fashion at all the things she had only ever heard of in stories.

“Godfrey! Oh- oh my- Godfrey, look at that, what in the heavens-”

“Yes dear, that’s a conservatorium, they create unique strains of plants altered by chem- darling do you mind? Your hair is in my face.”

She paid him no mind, instead entranced at the grisly sight of one of the conservatorium owners demonstrating the efficacy of his product by feeding it a large jackrabbit. The plant’s tendrils wound around the screaming creature, globs of dew-like liquid stuck fast to its fur like glue, as the plant began tearing at the rabbit, devouring it alive to the amazement of those spectating.

“Take it home lads and lasses at just £1 and 124 pennies! Make no mistake folks, that’s no home decor! Get it as a seed and you can train it to eat just about anything, foxes in your hen house, wolves, burglars, your daughter’s suitors, you name it!” That inspired a flurry of activity from potential buyers, some even bidding directly for the plant on stage.

Eleanora sat back down. “That’s a horrible invention! Who would want one of those?”

Godfrey coughed awkwardly. “Ah, the Halfacre estate has a few dozen on our grounds ... just as a deterrent! We’ve never caught any thiefs or the like in them.”

Godfrey avoided Eleanora’s stare.

“A-and if you like darling, we’ll uproot and get rid of them all! Afterall now that it’s my estate we can make whatever changes we like, can’t we?”

She sighed at that. “I’ve never had a mansion before...” A thought occurred to her and she gave him a mischievous grin. “Hmmm, what is it they say about that ... men rule the world but a woman’s domain is the house? Wouldn’t that make it MY mansion?”

He coughed at her in mock frustration, giving her an annoyed look while she giggled at him. “Hardly halfway home and you’re already trying to steal away all my things. Perhaps I should throw you to the droseras! Let the plants have their way with you and be rid of all this plotting!”

“You’ll never be rid of me! I’ve already got my claws in you.” She lightly chomped down on his shoulder.

A long, audible sigh of exhaustion came from the driver up front, causing the two of them to pause their flirtations. The two exchanged a look, Eleanora still nomming on Godfrey’s shoulder. Stifling giggles, they proceeded in hushed tones.

“Stop nibbling on my cloak, woman! God on high, who raised you?!”

“A herd of goats apparently, what does that say about you?!”

In the safety of their ornate carriage, for the rest of their journey to the Halfacre estate, Eleanora inexplicably, and entirely without her own notice, let down her mask, her accent slipping once more into her natural Irish cadence.

It had been years since Godfrey last saw House Halfacre. Seeing it rise now, out of the gloom and smog, like some colossus overlooking the industrial heart of the city, stirred something in him. Its towers of brass and stone whirred with energy, steam vents clogged with clouds of white vapor, spitting them out like some great multi-headed beast. The house itself was perched aloft a great complex of steel and copper, roaring and spewing out choking black smoke down towards the factories below. The whole thing floated up above, like some great gilded dragon towering over the wretched city and its pollutants. Built nearly sixty years ago, House Halfacre was a testament to the source of the Halfacre family fortune, its mastery of the skies.

Eleanora gaped up at it. “You told me ... but I never imagined it was like this...” Her voice was full of wonder, although Godfrey could only force a smile.

“Welcome to House Halfacre, I suppose.”

She glanced back at him. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed. “I haven’t been home in years ... last time I left ... well, I didn’t leave on the best of terms with the old man of the house.”

“Your grandfather?”