Read The Aunt Paradox (Reeves & Worcester Steampunk Mysteries) for Free Online

hall. I couldn’t see her husband anywhere.
    “We have to get to the dressing room before Mrs Dean, sir, or all is lost.”
    “Why?”
    “Because she will take her sister’s necklace and we don’t have it any more. We won’t be able to replace it.”
    I looked at the pile of necklaces in the foot well. And then started rummaging through them. Reeves was right. Sarah Wells’ necklace wasn’t there.
    “We will have to take a risk, sir,” said Reeves as we crossed the upstairs landing. When we materialise, you must take Mrs Wells’ jewellery box from the dresser and bring it here. Don’t touch anything else.”
    We materialised. I ran. I grabbed, and leaped back into the machine. We made it by a second, no more. As soon as we vanished into the mist, the door opened and in came Mrs Dean.
    This time she took just the one necklace. I wondered if she might look for the second box, but she didn’t. She pocketed her necklace and left.
    “What now?” I asked. “We’re one necklace short.”
    “Indeed, sir. The fault is all mine. I was too entangled in the minutia of events that I overlooked the greater danger.”
    “Shouldn’t the timeline give us an extra necklace when it next rewrites itself?”
    “One can hope, sir. But I think we should assume it will not. If we assiduously reverse all of Mrs Dean’s changes that we can, there is a good chance that the timeline of 1903 will be sufficiently close to the original that we can find Mr Wells and forewarn him of his aunt’s intentions.”
    ~
    So that was what we did. Year after year, we followed Aunt C from the wine cellar, noted when she borrowed money and when she didn’t, and replaced everything she took.
    By the time we reached 1901, all we had left were two necklaces. We’d paid out the last tenner the year before. And then we watched Aunt C — in 1901 — touch her husband for another tenner.
    “Reeves, remind me to come prepared next time we go righting past wrongs. If I’d been forewarned I’d have brought more money with me. I only have a fiver!”
    “I have two pounds, ten shillings and six pence, sir.”
    “Do you think the butterflies will take umbrage at us short changing Mr Dean? I could leave my watch.”
    “No, sir. I think an unexpected gentleman’s watch would cause far more comment than a missing two pounds, nine shillings and six pence.”
    Reeves’ humour had improved considerable since the mid-Victorian period. As had mine. The Dean household was looking well furnished. The wine cellar was devoid of turnips. And Reeves had hit upon a plan.
    “I have a plan,” he said as I deposited our last necklace into Aunt C’s jewellery box. “There is a certain element of risk, sir, but I believe it to be our best chance.”
    “What is it?”
    “We shall write a letter to Mr Wells, sir. There is an escritoire there next to the dresser. It should contain paper, envelopes and stamps. We shall warn him of his aunt’s intentions.”
    We composed the note.
    Dear Mr Wells,
    URGENT
    Don’t mention the existence of your time machine to your Aunt Charlotte. She steals it in 1904 and causes havoc to the timeline. Still trying to fix it.
    “How shall I sign it?” I asked. “R Worcester, gentleman’s consulting detective?”
    “I think not, sir. Mr Wells would likely call upon you after receiving such a letter and ask questions. That would be in 1902, sir. You wouldn’t know what he was talking about, and he would begin to doubt the veracity of the missive. I would suggest you sign as ‘The Traveller.’”
    “Spot on, Reeves!”
    I signed it, folded it into the envelope, applied a stamp, and...
    “Where do we send it, Reeves? Do you know his address?”
    “No, sir, but I am reliably informed that publishers will forward letters to their authors. Mr Wells is published by William Heinemann of Covent Garden.”
    Reeves had even worked out how to deliver the letter to Covent Garden. He’d noticed, during our many trips up and down the