Jane awoke.
She was lying on a bed in Max Filador's workshop. It was a comfortable bed: a horsehair mattress covered by linen sheeting. Judging by the angle of the watery sun filtering through the high rectangular windows, dawn had just broken. Max Filador was standing before her and had just deposited a jumble of assorted items at her feet.
'My goodness,' Jane said, sleepily. 'What is all that?'
'Defences that will keep you safe,' Max said. 'Hopefully. I suggest you wash. I left some clothing in there. It should fit you. After that, I'll attach your equipment. There's also a cloak to conceal everything, but we'll leave that till last.'
Jane crept to a small chamber containing a washbasin. Both Eddy and Doctor Porter were still asleep. Eddy had also slept on a bed, but the doctor was in a chair. She seemed capable of sleeping anywhere.
After a quick wash, Jane put on the gear Max had left. It was an intricate assemblage of brown leather items that were close-fitting around the arms and torso but loose around the elbows and knees for more effortless movement. It was similar to what Eddy and Doctor Porter wore under their cloaks.
Whatever would Mother think of this?
She returned to find that Max had placed the equipment into a sack.
'We shouldn't wake the others,' he said. 'Come onto the roof.'
Jane followed him up a set of narrow timber stairs. A trapdoor in the roof opened out onto a flat area amid other warehouses. Columns of sooty smoke poured from hundreds of chimneys across the city. Much of the city was obliterated by the shroud, but St. Paul's was still visible. A pigeon coasted over rooftops away from them. Jane could hear the distant sound of carriages on cobblestones.
She shivered. It was cold but not freezing.
'Enjoying the view?' Max asked.
'It's very different from Steventon.'
'Is that your village? Tell me about it?'
Jane paused, considering her words. 'There's not a lot to tell. Everything is all about careers for men and marriages for women. My days are taken up with endless cups of tea and social gatherings.'
'Is that how you spend your time?'
She told him about her writing, and he laughed heartily when she finished.
'Miss Austen—writer!' he said. 'And here I thought you were simply a farmer's daughter!'
'My father is the Rector of Steventon,' Jane said, acidly. 'It's a highly respected position.'
She didn't mention that George Austen's role included the control of glebe land, and another property of 195 acres, both of which were used for farming. Mrs Austen contributed by managing their granary, brewhouse, dairy, and other buildings.
'I meant no disrespect, Miss Austen,' Max said, holding up his hands in surrender. 'As a writer, you must be a keen observer of character.'
'I'm not sure it will ever lead to anything, Mister Filador.'
'You never know. The world needs people who can tell simple truths.'
By now, Max was standing quite close to her. He was looking earnestly into her eyes, and Jane saw only sincerity there. Still, her heart was registering something entirely different. It was as if she'd suddenly been given wings and learned how to fly.
Don't be silly, Jane thought, cross with herself. Love is not real. It is merely another name for the business of marriage.
Still, she couldn't stop herself from examining his face. It was intense and angular. His teeth were even, and he had that little goatee that added to his charm. His hair, which had been swept back while he had conducted his stage act, had fallen forward during the night. An unruly curl lay across his forehead. It was an endearing thing. Something a little boy might have.
But it was his eyes that most enraptured Jane. She hadn't realised before, but his eyes were grey. The middles were pure black, but around the black dots were irises coloured like tiny strands of grey straw.
The pile of equipment in the sack shifted, making a metallic sound.
'We'd best take a look at what you've been building,' Jane said, her voice husky.
'Of course.' Max's voice sounded deeper, too. 'Let's do that.'
Slowly taking his gaze from her face, he dropped down and removed some equipment. 'These are similar to what the doctor and Eddy have been using.'
Max attached the triple-barreled gun to a spring-loaded device on the underside of each of Jane's arms. This allowed the guns to fly into her hand. At the back of this was another small contraption that reloaded the weapons. He then slid the dagger into her scabbard on her belt. Finally, he slung a bandolier diagonally across her chest. This contained extra ammunition and tiny empty vials, ready for the doctor's garlic water.
'Now try moving about in it,' Max said.
Jane walked up and down across the roof. At first, she felt like a knight in armour might feel. All the leather weighed her down, but it wasn't anything Jane couldn't handle. Being the daughter of a rector didn't make her a daisy.
'Now,' Max said when she was back at his side. 'Have you ever fired a gun?'
'Never.'
'These will take a little practice,' he said. 'Guns are maddeningly inaccurate. No doubt, manufacturers will improve upon that eventually. Still, these are effective enough at close range.'
Max already had a target arranged on a low wall about twenty feet away. He showed Jane how to load the weapons and activate the springs that snapped the guns into her hands. Then he stood behind her while she practised. Lifting her arm up, she aimed the barrel of the gun at the target and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
'My goodness!' she said as a flock of startled pigeons took off in terror from a nearby rooftop.
Max laughed. 'Again.'
She continued firing. All her early shots missed the target entirely, but then Max came up behind her and took her arm. He gently lifted her arm by placing his own under hers and positioned his face adjacent to hers so he could see the target more clearly.
'Comfortable?' he asked. 'Miss Austen?'
'Very,' Jane said, swallowing. 'Mister Filador.'
'Then fire.'
She pulled the trigger. This time the bullet hit the target's centre.
'Bravo!' Max said.
She practised again for a few more minutes. By then, her aim was not perfect, but Jane was hitting the target more often than she missed it.
He went on to explain how the glass capsules worked. They had a tiny stopper so the contents could be flicked at attackers. The glass they were made of was fine but could break easily. They wouldn't kill a vampire, but they would cause damage.
'Doctor Porter handles the garlic water,' Max explained. 'Among her many skills, she's also an apothecary.' Finally, he pointed to the dagger. 'Now, let's try that.'
She drew the blade from its scabbard. 'It's very sharp.'
'Blades are effective weapons,' Max said. 'And this has been sharpened to within an inch of its life.'
He showed her how to take the dagger out smoothly and how to use it in both a sweeping and stabbing motion. 'The blade contains a tiny amount of silver,' he said. 'That was what the doctor ordered. It weakens the blade slightly but proves disagreeable to a vampire.'
He had one final piece of equipment for her: stakes. They looked like a quiver of small arrows as he attached the pouch to the top of her right thigh.
Jane inspected the pouch.
'They're rather small.'
'Miss Austen,' Max said, with a mischievous smile. 'Size doesn't matter.'
She wasn't sure why he was grinning. 'Are you sure?'
'Well,' he amended. 'Only sometimes.'