Free Hounds of Autumn by Heather Blackwood

she would still be clean enough to go to the funeral. She took a quick glance around the lawn, judged that no one aside from Robert was close enough to see her, and rushed inside and up the servants’ staircase in back. Thankfully, it was empty, as was the long upstairs hallway. She hurried along, past empty rooms and then into what she knew must be the main house. She glanced into doorways as she went, but had to skip a few when she heard voices within.
    One of the doors was almost completely closed, and she eased it open a crack. It was a woman’s bedroom, all decorated in shades of apricot and cream. Books filled a small bookshelf and she longed to take a look. The paintings on the walls were all of idyllic pastoral landscapes that reminded her of the French countryside. Camille’s bedroom. A door at the side of the room was ajar, and she slipped inside the bedroom to investigate just as a maid turned the corner. She sped through the side door and into the next room.
    This was the laboratory. She set the regulator on a workbench and waited. The maid had, of course, followed her.
    “Mum, are you in need of anything?” The maid was young and doe-eyed, but her look was keen and sharp.
    “The garden mechanical had a problem, and I was going to fix it.”
    The maid looked doubtful.
    “I’m Mrs. Sullivan. Mrs. Granger and I were correspondents. I build things too.” She motioned around the laboratory. “I’m sure I can find what I need, thank you.” She turned away, and felt a guilt-pang at her unladylike dismissal.
    The maid left, but Chloe knew that her time was limited. She took a look around the laboratory, which was much messier than her own, with unfinished projects covering most of the work surfaces.
    There were two large tables in the shape of an L, one along a side wall with the other leg running under the window. The other two walls were covered in shelves, some filled with books stacked willy-nilly, and others with boxes, most of them unlabeled. A desk stood in one corner, covered in parts and papers.
    She started with the desk, rifling through papers, keeping a few in a stack to the side. She found a number of note pages, a few diagrams, but nothing on the hound. There were, however, a few notes on advanced data spool recording and retrieval, and one on battery design. She kept those.
    She pulled open the drawers, but the jumbles of papers and parts made it difficult to sort through them quickly. Well, at least no one would notice more mess, she thought, removing a few pages and jamming things back into the drawers. She tapped her stack of papers on the desk and folded them as tightly as she could, cramming them into her reticule which bulged from the pressure. She wished she had her satchel with her, but she would have to make do.
    Next she moved to the two long tables. She guessed that this would be where Camille’s current projects were. Near a roll of tubing, a box of ph test strips and a spare mechanical limb of some sort, she found a prototype of Camille’s battery. She knew that Camille had been working on a cadmium and nickel battery that could be used over and over again. But to see it was extraordinary.
    According to the notes, the cadmium and nickel electrodes were placed in a potassium hydroxide solution. An aqueous electrolyte that was alkaline? She had never heard of such a thing.
    She took these notes also and crammed them in with the rest, immediately regretting it, as the reticule became impossible to close. She pulled a few pages out, folded them and slipped them into the top of her stocking. She mashed the reticule under her palm until it was small enough to pull the drawstring closed. She would have to remember not to open it until she was in her own room.
    She looked back at the battery. Potassium hydroxide was expensive to obtain, though not prohibitively so, for someone of Camille’s or her own station. She glanced around the room and found a shelf containing a few bottles.