Who: Una Nicnevin, Cassius Corbet, & Biddie What: A dinner invitation and a business proposition. Also, tea. When: September 28th, 1888 [backdated] Where: Biddie’s home Rating: R
It was age old crux of the hostess’ dilemma: what wine went best with a full moon? And more importantly, in Biddie’s opinion, what dessert?
(Admittedly, it was the dilemma of very particular hostesses.)
The question was in no way made easier by the fact that her one half of invited company preferred a red more full-bodied than wine, and the other was older than the fork.
Should one go heartily and damnably English with roast beef and claret? Or French, applying a lighter hand to serve canard aux champignons, well-seasoned and subtly alcoholic liver a la Bourgogne, and the tiniest, most tender new potatoes? It was hard to imagine Baroness Balmore enjoying potatoes, no matter how adorably small the spuds.
Ultimately Biddie decided on the most classic and pragmatic of approaches: kill something—and let a professional deal with the results. Mrs. Yakov had accepted the challenge with near disturbing zeal. Then again, the poor woman didn’t get to practice her skills nearly as much as her mastery deserved; Biddie frequently ate – out.
“So as you see,” she said, ushering her guests into the large drawing room, “I’m doubly grateful to you for accepting the invitation. It's at the nick of time, no less; my cook is due to flee any day now, seeking fulfillment with whatever barrister's ambitious wife. Next week's company will be chewing the greenery in the flowerpots."
"Artistry in the kitchen is always to be properly appreciated when possible," Una said with a smile. Who and what created the delicious hors d'oeuvres and sweets that were passed at her parties was presumed (correctly) to be as inhuman as Una. But she appreciated the work of mortal hands. "And we do appreciate the invitation, Mrs Linden. It was such a pleasure seeing you at the soiree and I'm glad to have this chance to further our acquaintance."
"It was an intriguing invitation," Cassius agreed, following the ladies so that they could be seated first. "And as your tea cakes aren't from the bakery that supplied our engagement party, I expect everything will be superb. They were rather a disappointment."
By which Cassius really meant that the baker was a parasol-wielding, pocketwatch-stealing madwoman who should be locked up for, among other things, complete failure at being respectful when faced with a member of parliament. Twice over. He'd been peckish ever since their confrontation; cold anger always made him hungry.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" Cassius asked Mrs Linden. "We couldn't have asked for better weather, and I thought the poets were quite entertaining. Although I don't have Una's ear for poetry," he added, with an amused look for the lady in question.
“I’ve a tin ear myself when it comes to rhyme and meter. Luckily my cousin--Captain Curtis?--has more talent.” She echoed Cassius’ look with a wryly deferential nod to Una. “Nothing to match your level, Baroness, but some of us are merely human.”
The tea things arrived and there were a few pleasant, socially-obligingly minutes of fuss to arrange them. In Biddie’s house sweetness, no matter the meal, was openly worshipped and the teatime treats reflected the devotion. There were sweet sandwiches of cherry, maple and almonds, and “dream sandwiches” of pecan, apple, and raisin; there were sour cream crullers; there were sponge-soft tipsy parsons topped with custard, whipped cream and yet more almonds. A nod to the savorier side came in the form of Creole sandwiches of Neufchâtel cheese and sweet red pepper, pecan and pimento on Boston brown bread, and crescents of cucumber nonsense that Biddie ignored on principle.
Biddie picked up the teapot, a lush Chinese specimen of cinnabar hand-carved lacquer. Its red skin was hotly bright against Biddie’s gloved hands. The stream poured out of the dragon-headed snout was a surprising bright emerald. Its smoky aroma had a tangy edge of spice.
“May I tempt you?” Biddie said. “Liu'an Guapian. The leaves are just in from Shanghai. It’s become rather popular with the pilots stationed there.”
There, that was as much of an opening as civility allowed - even as an American.
"Oh, please, and what a lovely teapot. I've only rarely seen the like." It wasn't merely politeness; Una loved beautiful things. It was why, and how, she drew so many artists and poets to her. "I assume your cousin had them flown in from China. How long does it take?" She accepted the cup from Biddie, her ungloved hands brushing against Biddie's fingers.
"Less than it would by any other mode of transportation," Biddie said promptly. "Short of magic, that is."
She poured a neat cup and passed it to Lord Ravensworth as well. "My cousin indulges my tastes when he can and in return I offer the assistance of…shall we say womanly intuition? Discreetly, of course. Overall we find it best to present a conventional façade to the public."
Biddie smiled at her guests. "Did you know that many people feel more reassured by a short pilot more than a tall one? Something to do with the donkey-brained idea that they're more reliable when they take up less space. We practically installed a height requirement, until someone figured out how to tailor the uniform to stretch the boys up and up."
Cassius offered a smile of his own in return, and accepted the cup with thanks. "Have you found that the establishment of the India Office has affected your business and trade much?" The Office functioned mostly as it had before as the East India Company, to Cassius' understanding, but with the introduction of bureaucracy and government, foreign affairs often became more complicated.
"I would imagine exchanging goods by airship has considerable speed over sending ships," Cassius continued. "Are there other drawbacks, or should we expect to see the airship industry outstrip the merchant ships soon, if they haven't already?" He cocked an eyebrow. "And how does the British Navy feel about ships in the sky that may freely avoid their customs inspections and trade port blockades?"
“Bureaucratic expansion is a necessary evil for those of us used to building and operating on foreign soil,” Biddie said. “The sad truth is that we’re still seen as a foreign company by some in London. Napoleon, you understand, wasn’t an ancient word when MPC dared to show off at the Great Exhibition. Nobody cheered when we moved in down the street either--with the generous exception of bold souls as yourself, Baroness.” She nodded respectfully to Una. “Your arrangement with tonton Maurice was a key factor in establishing our early roots here. On behalf of his memory, you have my heartfelt thanks.”
“As for the merchants and Navy, well.” Biddie took a sip from her own cup. How to do this, how to do this… “Consider the story of the two brothers. One brother, elder by minutes, is a big fellow. Sturdy, brave. He spends all his days afield and grows into a great hunter. Every night he butchers his kill into a savory stew to share with his like-minded father. The younger brother is his mother’s love. He hovers near and learns to make lentil pottage which he sells each day, very profitably, to those that pass by on the road. He sells to the rich and the poor, because he sells to the hungry. Everyone gets hungry.
“Now let us say that one day the hunting is very bad. Atrocious even. The sun is too hot, the night too cold. The elder brother goes far afield only to turn homeward empty-handed. There’s no rich stew to cheer him or warm his father’s innards. He longs to be home, full and warm.
“Meanwhile the younger brother sits by his great pot of steaming soup. When the day is over and his regular custom departed, he remains. He waits. He waits for what must happen eventually, thinking maybe it’ll happen today.” Biddie looked thoughtfully at her guests. “I think you’re familiar with the outcome. Esau sells his birthright for a bowl of soup and Jacob gains his father’s superior blessing. May I refresh your cup?”
She picked up the crimson teapot. "I'm sorry, that was a poky little telling. My cousin does it better, the dear man. But my point is that the merchants and Navy, they’re all out to bag big game and throw it on the fire. Consider what history will make of such efforts in China as an example.”
She studied the lacquer of the teapot for a moment before continuing. “You’re right, Lord Ravensworth; many don’t like the idea of airships floating over border lines at barely a quarter of the time, but what can be done? Too late to shove the genie back into the bottle. So big brother bargains with the younger. Airships can’t carry as much cargo as their seafaring equivalents, but we can carry allies. We get you to your target’s doorstep while your rival is paddling in the middle of the Atlantic. We extinguish the need for proxies. And if in the process, we do ferry a couple of items for our own profit…”
Biddie shrugged her elegantly covered shoulders. “What’s a minor loss of revenue compared to the aid provided? Being where one needs to be is no small thing. Even governments make allowances provided they’re seen to do it smartly.”
Or are never seen doing it altogether, Biddie reflected. She doubted that salient point needed to be pointed out to anybody in the room.
“Pardon my boldness in saying so, but surely your own union is a testament to the power of crossing boundaries,” Biddie said. “What airship can compare to the splendid Gentry’s ability to pass the veil? And what nation could match their history of integration? Speaking as a mere mortal capitalist, it’s an astounding enterprise. A hard achievement to improve upon.”
And thus the hook went into the water.
Una hadn't spent a couple of millennia dealing with mortals without having a good idea when they wanted something from her. She was not averse to being hooked, always, but when she was, Una permitted it for her own reasons. "There are many boundaries that exist for the purpose of protecting selfish interests; those we cross with impunity, for the most part. Some boundaries are put up to protect people who don't know what they're doing from dangers to themselves. Those one should approach with caution as a matter of self-preservation.
"But I suspect most of the boundaries of mortal bureaucracy are in the former category, rather than the latter. Don't you think so, my lord Earl?" She reached over to pat Cassius' hand, playing every bit the doting fiancee--not that it was entirely a role, because she found his efforts to please her charming and his company more than pleasant. Working with him as companion and helpmeet were more of the same. It was nice to know that one's partner actually had one's back.
Cassius raised an eyebrow at Mrs Linden's mention of Una's aid. While he knew a number of her business dealings - certainly not all, by any means - in this case he judged it better to sow a few seeds of doubt rather than a unified front. Then, if a need arose for them to play against each other for Mrs Linden's benefit, she might be less likely to suspect it. And with Una playing into the sympathetic role, that left Doubting Thomas for him.
"I do agree, my dear. My question would then be, how long before those boundaries are more strictly enforced by those who seek to profit from them, and the airship trade suffers as the shipping industry does, from blockades and inspection? Piracy cannot be far behind, when there is something of value to be taken."
Pressing his fingertips together, Cassius studied Mrs Linden with hooded eyes. "And speaking as a mere mortal capitalist, you sound as though you might have some ideas on how to improve past achievement."
“There’s an expression in this business,” Biddie said. “A smart man finds solutions; a successful man looks for problems. MPC is very keen on problems, and we’re just as keen on gutting them for opportunities.”
She set down her teacup and laced her hands neatly over her knee.“I can’t defend the matter of selfish interest, Baroness, because quite frankly you’re looking at one heartily guilty of the same. I truly believe in the potential of this technology to improve trade, to alter the means and methods of business practices in general, to change things. At the same time, I’ll make no bones about the desire to benefit hugely from it.”
“I’m a simple creature, sir,” she said, glancing at Cassius. “When--and it will be when, not if--the air trade comes to endure the trials of our waterborne counterparts, I’ll ensure that profits cushion the blow. As for piracy, consider this…”
Biddie smiled. “There’s no room for jail cells on an airship.”
Justice at 1,000 feet in the air was charmingly immediate.
Una broke the tension of the moment by laughing, because it was amusing. "Mrs Linden, your sense of justice is quite precise. And I can hardly say I'm offended at a woman looking out for herself. The value of an excellent husband notwithstanding--" another look at Cassius "--a woman does have things a bit harder than a man in this world. The military implications are fascinating, as are the implications for civilian travel. Both for mortals and supernaturals.
"Though, having attempted the airship for a brief time over the Thames, I found it was not for me, despite its glamour and efficiency."
Cassius considered Una. "Were you comfortable, my dear? More so than on a ship, perhaps?" He ignored the railway option entirely; no fae he knew would be comfortable on one of those.
Una smiled at Cassius and said, "It would depend on the ship, I think, but better than many."
Cassius nodded acknowledgement. "And I take your point. I can't deny my path in business is much easier than yours, even if both of you prove that women can rise above the challenges to make more successful investments. I won't insult either of you by suggesting you are wasted on such matters; surely being an excellent husband involves knowing when a wife has a good head on her shoulders, and trusting her insight and experience. You are a credit to your sex in overcoming the obstacles society places in your paths."
Biddie watched the two smile and talk warmly at another, and considered: what do they want? There was no particular greed or coldness in the thought, merely an...evaluation. People's wants were seldom identical to the thing they were requesting. Few, for example, desired travel for travel’s sake, no matter how flowery their expressions regarding exotic locales and fresh experiences. This pair was too rich, too old (mostly), too well-connected to want the sort of escapes and indulgences MPC could provide.
The Baroness had said she was unmoved by glamor or efficiency…
"What if there was no discomfort to persons of your," Biddie said in polite, unspoken acknowledgement, "specificity?"
She continued in a tone of sculpted enticement. "Nowadays you'd be hard pressed to find a method of convenience that doesn't rely on iron somehow. Transport especially. Just look at the sprawling, growing kraken that is the railway."
"In her day, my grandmother pursued research into a means of blocking ill effects upon our more unique clientele," Biddie continued. "Apparently she felt quite optimistic about the possibilities, despite the fact that no other major company was looking into similar applications.” What the hell, it may even be true. “The project rather slowed with her retirement and stalled entirely with her passing. But it could be resurrected."
Biddie smiled. "Especially if the interests of an investor were at stake."
Una's gaze rested on Biddie with an almost palpable strength for a long moment. "That would be a most interesting avenue of research, yes, Mrs Linden. Have you suggested it to any other potential investors?"
“As I’ve said the notion languished without my grandmother,” Biddie said smoothly. “Yet I believe research continued in some small pockets of academia. Not to mention the areas of private research, of course.”
“It’s rather amazing what people get up to when brains and money share a room,” Biddie said.
Cassius' lips quirked at the obvious implication, but he let it go. A little flattery wouldn't do anyone harm. "That is a very specific niche market," he observed. "How would you propose to implement it? One airship which only worked on demand, or two? It wouldn't be worth outfitting your fleet unless you believed you'd have steady business from those who would need the consideration. What would be the benefit to you, weighed against the cost? Even considering, as I believe we are," Cassius allowed, "that I would be financing a considerable portion of that cost."
“The scope of implementation would depend upon the method’s requirements,” Biddie said. “I would be hard pressed to offer a definitive outline when that method is yet undiscovered. But if you are worried at the expense of evolution, let us be frank; you would not shoulder the cost of research and development. You would simply be in good position to reap its benefits once success is achieved. Even airships have a ground floor to get in on.”
And Biddie in turn would have reason enough to decide what portion of the research her investors got to see.
Una nodded slowly, considering all that Biddie had said, and all that she hadn't said. "You say that we--for the value of we that is present in the room, I assume--wouldn't shoulder the cost of the research, but at the same time, you don't know what the research will take or the cost and value to your firm of successful innovation in this area.
"I'm interested in being able to travel as needed, but I am also well aware that borders protect in both directions, and that free travel flows both ways as well. I have no interest in, how shall we say? foreign agents or even domestic troublemakers using your airships against the Crowns I serve." Which was perhaps more than she should have said, but Mac's warnings and her meeting with Velathra were much on Una's mind. "Mortal wars abroad are one thing, and perhaps unavoidable. I do not wish to see war at home again."
She didn't look at Cassius, but she didn't need to. On this point, she knew his thinking ran with hers.
“I cannot make promises on conflicts that haven’t happened, Baroness. Mortal or otherwise,” Biddie added. “Your husband is correct in that the military implications of airborne technology are--spectacular. And tempting. Ultimately I am citizen answering to my government just as you do to the Crowns.”
“On the other hand, though,” Biddie continued, “I highly doubt the United States of America is planning to declare hostilities on a people they believe to be imaginary.” She lifted her brows sardonically to show her own opinion on what her (supposed) countrymen believed. “Nor am I inclined to ferry any of your countrymen here for the sake of violence.”
The only Fae with the freedom to even such a thing was Mac and she doubted he was planning invasions.
Well.
She mostly doubted.
“Would you accept my saying that I’d oppose any MPC notions to pillage otherworldly realms during my lifetime?” Biddie asked. “I’m rather good at that bit.”
Una thought about Velathra and the prospect of Winter weapons of unimaginable power loose in the land of mortals, stolen by Sidhe hostile to Mab. Hers was the power to deal with this; hers were the hands into which this task was given.
"I believe," Una said after a moment, "that that would be a sufficient guarantee. Along with appropriate punishment for anyone who violated your promise." Biddie had, after all, made it clear she understood summary justice.
"Who else have you approached? Or planned to approach?" Cassius asked, turning the conversation from war to finance before they become too embroiled in the details of violence. Violence was all well and good, but contracts could be hammered out after an initial agreement was reached, and Una had just given her blessing. "A project like this must require specialty investors, and more funds than even Ravensworth can provide. Who would you propose as our bedfellows?"
Business alliances could lead to political alliances, after all--or the appearance of such, which could be turned to a similar advantage. Positive press was always welcome, and since the specifics of this investment would have to remain vague while in development, partnerships might make up some of the slack.
Alternately, if the wrong people were already on board, that would be something else to take into consideration.
“The details of my bed aren’t up for discussion,” Biddie said mildly. Her mouth quirked at the pun, an invitation to recognize the word play for being as weak folly; her gaze was less playful.
Pushy little tick.
“As I’ve said, Lord Ravensworth, the range of the implementation is nowhere near decided. The research itself would be a draw on MPC’s resources, not yours.” She offered a guileless smile. “Indeed, the possibility itself is an aspect of our development and not the whole. I like to think that MPC in the present incarnation has some measure to recommend it.”
Biddie modestly dipped her gaze. “Although I admit to some bias on the matter.”
As if in agreement with the sentiment, the dinner bell rang.