Evangeline and the Alchemist: The Antics of Evangeline, #1

By Madeleine D'Este

Cream cakes and inventions. Fake gold and kung-fu. Meet Evangeline.

In 1882, “Marvellous” Melbourne was flush with gold-rush cash and the British Empire’s second biggest city.

Evangeline, a seventeen year old reformed urchin and acrobat, is settling into a new comfortable life in Melbourne with her long lost father, Professor Caldicott. But learning to be a lady is awfully dull. Then one day, the police arrive, seeking the Professor’s expertise in catching an Alchemist.

Is this a chance for Evangeline to test out her new invention and save the day? With regular breaks for tea and cream buns, of course.

Evangeline & the Alchemist is a steampunk mystery-adventure novella and the first in The Antics of Evangeline series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Madeleine D'Este
• Release date: Sep 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9780994604200

Book preview

Chapter 1

It all started with a rat-a-tat-tat on the Professor's laboratory-workshop door. Evangeline and the Professor looked up from their inventing to see Miss Plockton in the doorway.

Chief Inspector Pensnett ta see you, sir? she said.

Evangeline perked up on her stool. A policeman here at 56 Collins Street? Something exciting was surely about to happen.

Ah, yes. I plum forgot.

Evangeline's father stopped adjusting his new, improved auto-chariot and walked over to the wooden bench, placing his trusty brass screwdriver with the ivory handle down beside neat stacks of brass cogs, wheels and pins. Her father, Professor Montague Caldicott, the pre-eminent horological-engineer in all the Colonies, smoothed down his humongous moustache with his real hand.

Your lesson is over for today, m'dear. Follow Miss Plockton upstairs and continue with your embroidery.

But Father... Evangeline groaned. I could be of some assistance.

Police matters are not for the ears of impressionable young ladies. All those dead bodies and smugglers and swarthy criminals. Far too sordid.

I never get to do anything interesting, Evangeline grumbled as she stowed away her rosewood-handled screwdriver in the pocket of her dress, along with a handful of brass pins. The smaller and more delicate screwdriver was a recent gift from her father, an encouragement to pursue her own inventions.

Evangeline's plain bottle-green day dress, buttoned to the neck, was not the latest fashion but it was better than she had ever imagined in her previous life on the grey foggy streets of London, when her toes poked through holes in her boots. Cold was something she had yet to worry about since she arrived three months ago on the dirigible from Singapore. She wondered whether Melbourne could be anything less than sweltering.

Out. Out.

The Professor shooed Evangeline and Miss Plockton from the laboratory-workshop, before carefully locking the door behind him.

There was a time when a visit from the police would have frightened Evangeline. She would have hurried to hide her loot, but not today. Today she was a reformed character, setting aside her urchin ways and learning to be a proper young lady. But being good all the time was a bit dull.

Evangeline sulked all the way up the stairs, clumping her feet and dawdling. Her father passed her, continuing up the oriental carpeted hallway into his study, closing the door behind him. The conversation of men was muffled by the closed oak door.

Evangeline loitered in the hallway, waiting for Miss Plockton to drag her into the sitting room to complete her crudely stitched handkerchief. Whilst Evangeline was proficient in many skills, needlecraft was not one of them.

Rather than bustling Evangeline away, Miss Plockton did something curious. Her father's personal secretary produced a large brass key from her pocket and opened the small closet adjoining the Professor's study. The room where all the house linen was stored.

The house on Collins Street, where Evangeline now lived with her new extended family, had many secrets. Built by a gold prospector with some alleged unsavoury tastes, there were many hidden passages and nooks within the walls and floors. Evangeline was yet to be trusted with a set of keys, her attempts to explore the house thoroughly hindered.

Inside the small room smelling of lavender and camphor, Miss Plockton pushed aside a stack of damask curtains, revealing a pencil-sized hole in the wall. An audito-projector, one of the Professor's best-selling patented inventions, appeared from under another stack of bedsheets. Miss Plockton wound the key, placed the brass tube over the hole and the audito-projector sprung into action. The sounds of male voices emerged through the horn, as clear as the Melbourne summer sky outside.

Eavesdropping, Miss Plockton? Evangeline gasped.

On occasion, a secretary needs ta take initiative, Miss Plockton said.

Impressed by Miss Plockton's rebellious act, Evangeline squeezed into the tiny room beside her. There was little room in the linen cupboard with the two women's fulsome skirts.

Thank you for seeing me, Professor, Pensnett said. His voice was gruff with a tinge of the Black Country.

My pleasure, Chief Inspector. Anything to help the Constabulary.

I understand you are responsible for inventing the auto-chariot, sir?

Oh, yes. One of my many tinkerings.

Actually, we've had a few problems with auto chariots. Reckless young gentlemen racing along Flinders Street.

Oh, I know nothing about that...

Not to worry, sir. I am here for your assistance with another matter entirely. I have rather a curious case on my hands.

Evangeline's skin tingled. She knew there was something exciting in the wind today.

We have reports of new unusual shipments of gold hitting the market of Melbourne.

I am a humble horological-engineer, sir. Although I occasionally branch out into other experimentations, I know nothing of rocks and minerals from the ground. Why is this gold 'unusual'?

There have been reports of strange activity. It does not behave as gold should. Apparently gold purchased from a reputable merchant in Goldsmiths Lane has blackened. Overnight.

Evangeline heard a familiar clicking sound. It was the brass fingers of her father's clockwork hand. He was probably stroking his proud whiskers as he often did when he pondered.

Allegedly, on Monday, the gold was bright and yellow, and yesterday, the nuggets looked more like iron. Dull and grey.

Of course. Alchemy. Fool’s gold.

From her hiding place in the cupboard, Evangeline's eyes widened. But before a gasp of surprise could emerge, Miss Plockton deftly placed a ladylike hand over her mouth. On first inspection, with her tight steely bun and pinched face, Miss Plockton appeared pure hell or high-water Highland Presbyterian, but Evangeline wondered whether she owed some of her efficiency to a touch of the fey.

We understand you dealt with similar occurrences in London, Professor.

I assisted the Goldsmiths Guild by developing a device to identify the offending alchemical material. I can't remember whether I brought it with me. I'll have to rummage through my trunks.

Was the perpetrator apprehended?

The device was a success...But alas, we were too late to catch the fiend on that occasion.

Evangeline listened greedily to the details of the Professor's colourful past. Perhaps he was not as boring as he appeared. They had only been reunited for three months,