Chapter Text
Jupiter would be laughing.
No, he wouldn’t just be laughing. He’d be swooning off the brolly rail over Bertram’s latest plight, before promptly getting all witness-y, fanning theatrically the moment he saw Meredith.
Jupiter had known that he’d been meeting with his university friends, going off to Talon & Horn pub in Old Town, but what he hadn’t known was that those friends would be skiving off and showing everyone inside their knacks, turning the pub into a theatre for their nightly talent show.
Of course, it wasn’t his fault that Kitty Beauregard and her gaggle of Silverborn friends were enamored by their ability to invent highly (im)practical and Wundrous inventions. If that’s what the rich fools needed to face some kind of enjoyment in their lives, that’s what they needed, a little gawking never had done anyone harm.
His involvement in what initially was a plan to help gain investors for the group’s inventions was meant to be a one-off thing. Bertram was there to supervise, to be the one with the ideas to attract careless investors. Certainly not convincing drunk girls to stay a little longer with his friends. He’d watch their things, sketching ideas on napkins or in his pocketbook, hail a cab or two, and then take the brolly rail home.
Yet, somehow, his involvement became nightly showcases for all of his ideas.
Somehow, steadily, instead of being an afterthought on the side of the photographs, Bertram Crow found himself squarely in the middle, holding onto a carefully thought out blueprint with someone rich, drunk, and giggly, clinging to his arm like he was the most interesting thing in the room.
And somehow, Bertram Crow found himself coming home each night with butterflies in his stomach. A whirlwind of dizzying, buzzing, and joyful creatures he didn’t know what to name or to do with.
This wasn’t a crowd that Jupiter North had ever met. Wasn’t a party he’d dug his exceptionally nosey personality into.
This, finally, was something that was his alone.
So, he told no one about what the nights had evolved into. Not Mr. Smithereens. Certainly not the ginger fool. One weak instance of letting his secret go, and North would find his direction right by Bertram’s side in an instant. He’d be charming, dazzling, loud, and he’d take this carefully built world, before promptly crushing it to pieces.
It was supposed to be a normal night.
He was supposed to dazzle everyone with his latest idea, his friends rake in money with open arms and wallets, and Kitty Beauregard would loudly convince her entourage to donate hefty amounts in efforts to fund the city’s ‘future and foremost inventors!’ (Her words, not his).
The girls were younger, bolder, and more annoying than any other patron in the crowded bar. Originally, it had just been Kitty, sneaking out under the easy excuse of searching for new doilies or the ‘most darling chapeau to promenade through the gardens with.’
Apparently, that worked just fine for Nevermoor’s wealthiest families to send their children off outside the Silver Gates unchaperoned.
They’d never brought much attention to the man in the corner before he introduced his newest idea.
But tonight for some reason, was different.
Tonight, Kitty Beauregard prowled up beside him, drink in one hand, and her other arm looped around someone entirely new. She was lean and blonde, with a heart-shaped face and eyebrows drawn up in apparent perpetual surprise.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and he quickly turned back to his outlines, determined to ignore the blip in routine.
“Birdie!” Kitty shouted, raising her glass in a toast and greeting him using a nickname she knew he hated.
“This, my dearest friend, is the newest member of the Silver District to have had her name etched onto the doorplates. Isn’t it just grand?” She grinned, sipped whatever was in her glass, and then, cheering, vanished into the crowd once more.
But the girl stayed, and, as if determined to make his worst fears even worse, she pulled out a chair next to him, and took a seat. Watching him, she noticed how shadows clung to the skin under his eyes. Noticed his permanent hunch, and how everything he wore looked like it’d been his for years.
She noticed too, how it looked like he was running on fumes. It looked like he was a moment’s notice from collapse.
“Meredith Darling. Kitty’s been going on about you for ages, I’m—”
He cut her off with a glare. “Getting in the way of my work? Getting in the way of a broke group of friends trying to make some money? Because, if I’m being perfectly honest, you absolutely are!”
His voice dripped with venom, and he tried his best, attempting his most perfect sneer.
She paused, looked back at him, and threw her head in laughter, giggling, “You know, you’re exactly like she’d said. An absolute and utter chihuahua when someone tries to approach you deep in..” She stopped, looked at his half finished diagram, before continuing, “inventing? It looks like you’re just drawing spiders, mate. Not the most attractive habit if you want anything like what Kitty and your friend have going on.”
At that, Bertram’s anger simmered even further. “I do NOT want anything close to what they have. They’re cozying up far too much with girls far too young for them. We’re trying to make money, not children, for goodness’ sake!” He snapped, feeling utterly offended that this stranger would even think he’d be remotely comfortable with the happenings around him.
Bertram pulled his coat toward himself closer, reaching into a pocket inside to pull out a new pencil.
She giggled again, smiling in a way that only someone who’d successfully coaxed an especially petulant puppy to roll over would. “I’m not looking for a date, Birdie. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, can you please keep working on.. whatever that is? It looks brilliant! And, if Kitty hasn’t oversold you, I’m expecting greatness.”
His heart skipped a beat. He sat frozen, and then muttered, “I’m not going to pursue any sort of courtship with you. You’re young, and more of my brother’s type than anything else.”
Then quietly, “You wanna see the process? First, stop calling me Birdie. Second, be quiet as I’m drafting it.”
Meredith blinked. Then she moved a little closer, watching him pick up his pencil again and trace the edges of what looked to be the beginnings of the inside of some sort of railpod? Whatever it was, it clearly had the careful beginnings of something that would’ve made anyone gasp. He swiftly added buttons, before creating little arrows or noting down different ideas as to what the purpose of the various gadgets within were. They sat there, in a strange stillness that was at complete odds to everything else going on within the cramped pub.
She looked up and around, just to try and see where her friends were, and found that Kitty, Ari, and Maybelle were all dancing the night away, looking as if they belonged in a world that opposed everything they’d ever been taught at Devereaux Ladies College.
Meredith beamed.
It was just so different to everything she’d known so far, so strange and intimate. Meredith realized not for the first time, that life outside the Silver District Gates was rapid, brilliant, and dizzy.
Dazzling in ways she’d never imagined.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Meredith was speaking to someone without script or spectacle. Members of Grand Old Houses carried decorum, grace, and never were told no. Yet, right next to her, there was a crabby, pale, angry, and snappy vulture of a man who didn’t carry any of the traits of a gentleman. The atmosphere reeked of alcohol, cheap perfume, and grease. The walls rang out with toasts to nothing in particular.
It was perfect.
When Bertram Crow finally paused at his work, he scowled. “I just don’t know what to call it!” He muttered, not her so much as the air in front of him. Absolutely seeped in his designs, it had seemed as though he’d forgotten that he did, in fact, have company. Company who quickly turned back to a finished concept art of something like she’d never seen before.
Eight, thin, spindly legs carried the railpod he’d been working on before. The pocketbook was filled on both pages with notes, detailed drawings of applications, and carefully thought out plans for what the rail pod could be used for. She gasped, before blurting out, “It’s The Manyhands!”
The Crow looked back at Meredith, and then looked up towards the ceiling, as if he could see the spiders who made their homes between the beams.
He coughed, and shook his head. “You’re lucky that someone I know is from the Silver District, otherwise I’d have no idea what you’re talking about. Unfortunately, the masses will have no idea what The Manyhands are. Not the best name, I’m afraid. Try again.”
“Well, it looks like The Manyhands, so I’m thinking of sea creatures. Jellyfish, octopus, cute things, you know?”
“Sounds dreadful. I was going for a spider. See the sharp ends? distinctly non-aquatic.” Bertram gestured at the sketch.
She shrugged. “I think Octavia is a pretty name, don’t you? But, if you want to keep up the spider motif, Arachne is your best bet.”
“Arachne might just work, but it all depends on what investors latch onto. I’ll call the line Arachnipods.” Turning back to his paper, Bertram scrawled the two names across the page in neat cursive.
Meredith could almost ignore how his hand shook across the page. Almost.
“I’m sure Kitty briefed you on the routine beforehand, yes?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Bring as many rich numpties as possible! The bigger the wallets, the better!” She chirped, flashing a smile and look that showed she was there to participate in the night’s festivities, and she’d enjoy every bit of it.
Already halfway on a mission towards the dance floor, Meredith called over her shoulder, “I’ll bring them back, but no promises they’ll understand what you’ve actually built! She paused. “How many should I grab besides my friends and your partners?”
“Bring as many as you can! I think one of the guys brought a top hat to be used as a collection bin!” He called back, smiling at someone who seemed just as determined as him to wring every last coin from the pub that stood in defiance of the night’s orders to rest the night off.
When she returned with a party of eighteen people, Bertram froze. His world started to swirl.
Usually, it was a smaller crowd. A few rich, bored, drunk aristocrats. Not eighteen strangers who looked at him, eyes wide and expectant. He was used to familiar faces who buzzed around like bees after each new invention, passing the word after a brief pitch and raising Kred. Not the regular crowd and whatever Meredith had wrangled.
His hands were growing clammy, and his heart was skipping beats. His surroundings swam up to him close and far away all at once, rising and falling like the waves on the River Juro.
The crowd Meredith had brought him was one of all sorts. There was the regular bored rich lot and dodgy politician, but there was a new breed altogether as well. Five people stood closer than any other, eyes shimmering alight with whatever promises she’d spoken to pull them toward Bertram’s table.
Wunsoc had taught him how to behave in these conditions.
Maintain a brave face and show no fear. It would radiate off of him if otherwise. He’d been told that a million times by Jupiter.
So, letting out a brief cough, Bertram began his pitch. He’d gotten through it fairly well all things considered, until, about three quarters of the way, someone piped up.
“A fine machine, all things considered, but terribly useless. The hovership has it beat in nearly all ways, and automobiles cover for what it can’t.” The crowd murmured in agreement.
The man stood with an air of superiority. Bertram looked exhausted. He looked like an easy target.
Meredith opened her mouth, but Bertram spoke up before she could.
“Funny, because I hadn’t gotten to the part where I’d said this machine can do both.”
“Ridiculous and utter drivel! If my engineers can’t do a thing such as this, what makes you think you can? You’re barely old enough to be here!” The man sputtered out, a mixture of annoyance and anger flushing across his face as he was challenged.
“With a bit of Wunder, anything can work itself into absolutes. Though, at your age, of course you’d begin to be doubting the Free State’s most trusted resource.” Bertram shot back, and the man flushed even redder.
They traded jabs. Bertram’s retorts grew sharper. He grabbed onto a nearby table, steeling himself.
When the idiot finally left, the cheers that rang out from the group echoed throughout the building. Nobody cheered more triumphantly than Meredith.
“That was brilliant! YOU were brilliant! Remind me to never upset you, I don’t think I could recover. And my sister thinks she’s one of the most important people to exist!” Meredith finished, laughing out as Bertram gave her a rare cheeky smile.
Kitty had taken over charming potential investors, with her law student courtier right by her side. The two were a force to be reckoned with, all things considered. Perfectly charming, perfectly malicious.
Ari and Maybelle swam through the crowd like sharks as they tried pulling onlookers toward the table with Bertram’s pocketbook and messy blueprints.
It was right then and there that his body faltered against his wishes.
Gripping a chair, Bertram pulled out a worn handkerchief from his coat, pressing it against his nose. His breathing increased to a rapid rate, and Meredith flushed pale for a moment.
He looked at her, and she looked right back.
“I’ll get you a glass of water, sit down and let yourself rest, okay?”
Bertram Crow hardly listened to anybody. Hardly people he’d met a few hours ago.
Still, he sat down. Having a flare-up was the last thing he needed that night, but it happened regardless. His misfortune had followed him into adulthood, a lesson that had been drilled into him from birth.
“I’m back! The barkeep put extra ice in it, if that means anything to you.” Meredith said, nudging the glass toward him as she slid back into her seat.
In silence, the two watched their friends work as a unit.
“They’re really something, aren’t they?” Meredith spoke, as if talking to nobody in particular. “But, that something wouldn’t have been anything without your work. The arachnipods are a wonderful creation, Bertram.” She finished, turning to glance at him.
He took a sip of his glass, refusing to say anything.
When he was introduced to Kitty, he’d thought she was dumb. When she’d brought her friends along next week, he’d thought she was even dumber.
Talon & Horn was meant to be an escape for him. He was meant to get a quick buck to help earn his factory dreams, and help the rest of his friends pay off their tuition. He hadn’t planned on belonging here.
Enterprising as he was, Bertram still had never quite shaken off childhood teasing. One day, someday soon, everything would be snatched away from him.
Sooner or later, he knew the rug would be pulled out. Everything would poof away right in front of him.
Tonight though, he wasn’t. He’d enjoy what he had while it lasted.
So, swallowing his fear, he turned to Meredith, cleared his throat, and asked, “So, are you coming back next week?”
Her response was a small, steady smile, and a quick snort.
“Only if you promise not to collapse after flaming bored aristocrats!”
“I’m getting the sense that you’re always this impossible to deal with.”
Quickly, she shot back. “Next week, I might be tolerable. If you’re lucky, we can try darts. I’d let you win, too.”
He raised a brow. “And after?”
Bertram thought of the raucous applause after his pitches. Doubt, and a fragile fear spread across his chest. It felt too easy to lose.
“Tonight is still tonight, birdie boy.” Meredith responded. “Besides, swinging by next week was already part of the plan.”
He smirked. “I’ll hold you to it, then.”
Gathering his supplies, he wondered how long it would take before everything shattered.
Not long, probably.
But not tonight.