“They graduated at the top of their class,” Uncle Waldorf bragged to his friend, his white moustaches wiggling as he nodded, “both of them. And they did it a year early too. We sent them to progressive schools, not just the haughty and tuft-hunter social grounds. And Spencer even has chosen a young lady to court, haven’t you lad?”
Uncle Waldorf tugged the elbow length rubber gloves from his hands and set them on the marble hall table that Mrs. Gibbs kept stocked with fresh flowers. The plump housekeeper gasped and removed the offending hand protection, concerned that some chemicals may remain on them and score the furniture. It would not be the first time.
A cool spring breeze wafted through the house, and the scent of blooming flowers was in the air. Uncle Waldorf wore a white lab coat with a brown leather apron over it. His hair was a wild mass, resembling a wheat field crossed with an angry sheep. His goggles hung around his neck. He guided his friend to the parlor for tea. The guest was not a tall man, but neither was he short. And that description seemed to fit him in all aspects. Neither fat nor thin, neither dark haired nor light, and though not an imposing presence he did stand out for an unexplainable reason. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and dust from traveling showed. He handed his low brimmed hat and ruddy leather duster with brass buckles to Mrs. Gibbs. He ran a hand though his short hair. It was unfashionable and did not have any pomade in it to keep it in place; instead it hung loose and wavy.
Trudy stared at him the same way she stared at the first mantis she ever found. Fascinated by its mystique, but cautious because it was strange, and all things that were strange could be dangerous. The girl wore an ankle-length white dress which she hated. She always looked upset when she was presented with a new dress, thinking of her brother’s full length trousers, vest, striped shirt, and open collar with envy. She outright refused to wear a bustle, which she called ‘a ridiculous spring loaded horse’s posterior’, though she would wear a hoop skirt on formal occasions.
Spencer’s hair was parted in the middle and slicked down, as was the style. He could not yet grow a mustache at seventeen, but he did try. His Uncle insisted he shave it, citing that only men that earned it could wear facial stylings. Trudy thought Uncle was trying to save Spencer from embarrassing himself with a lip that appeared to have a shy caterpillar hiding under his nose.
The twins sat on a divan as the two gentlemen took seats on two leather wing-backed chairs. A small table stood between them with a brandy decanter, snifters, and cigars. Mrs. Gibbs entered with tea and biscuits, glaring at Spencer as the boy eyed the alcohol with the hope of youth, dreaming of being included in the adult pursuit. The maid left with an audible sniff of disapproval.
“Wally,” the stranger began with a familiar tone, “I see you are still dabbling in chemistry. Or should I call a spade a spade and use the term alchemy?”
“Jack, my oldest friend,” the uncle said, smoothing his glorious walrus-like moustache, “I believe science is ignoring what was discovered in the past, and has been lost.”
The twins stared at the man talking to their uncle. He was more than twenty years Waldorf’s junior but spoke as an equal. For their uncle to call him his oldest friend was incredulous. Their uncle had boyhood friends which he had known all his life that still popped in on social calls.
“I have brought you a new science,” the man said, leaning in conspiratorially and glancing at Spencer and Trudy with a mysterious smile, “though I don’t know if this is the time or place to discuss it.”
Uncle Waldorf looked at his niece and nephew. Trudy looked offended and Spencer sat up straight, pulled his shoulders back in almost a fighting stance, and moved to the edge of his seat. Waldorf reached for the cigars and cut the tips from the end, covering his smile with one hand and issuing a polite cough.
“Trudy, be a good hostess for our esteemed company, Mister Tucker, and pour us some tea, no cream or sugar please. Some for you and your brother also; you will remain to hear this. You see Jack,” Waldorf said, turning to their guest, “they shall both be working with me. Yes, they shall continue their studies, but I am a professor and have arranged for them to gain their degree under my tutelage. Their internship shall be with me.”
“Oh Uncle!” Trudy exclaimed, spilling tea on Spencer’s leg in her excitement.
“Honestly?” Spencer said, standing in his enthusiasm, not recognizing what his sister had done. He sat down as he realized the childlike response. Adding in a formal tone, “That sounds just fine. Thank you, dear uncle.”
Rising from his seat, Waldorf went to the mantle and drew a fag from the tinder pot and lit it from the smoking lamp. He placed it against the tip of his cigar, and puffed. When done, he passed it to Jack to light his own. The children watched as it flared ten centimeters high. Smoke curled lazily above the two men and wafted away on the spring breeze.
Taking two cups and saucers from his niece and setting them on the table, Waldorf asked his friend, “Will you take Scamander cream with your tea?” He placed a hand on the brandy decanter to convey his meaning.
“Yes please,” the man answered as he drew a sheaf of papers from his inside vest pocket, “and I think you should look at these.”
Waldorf poured a spot of brandy into each of the cups, and took the papers as he sipped the tea. After a moment he set the cup down with an absent movement and picked up his cigar, still reading the papers. Minutes passed in silence. Trudy watched her uncle’s face, as Spencer picked at the wet stain on his pant leg. She knew that look, Uncle was fascinated. When Waldorf finished, the ash on his cigar was almost five centimeters long. Jack Tucker sat back in his chair, relaxed, and enjoyed his tea and smoke with an ease that was almost inappropriate. The twins had sipped at the tea and eaten four biscuits each while waiting.
“Do you really think this is possible?” Waldorf asked, holding the papers towards his friend.
“Keep them, they are for your use.” Jack waved the papers away as he sipped at the tea. “I know it is possible. I have seen proof, though I am not sure if a machine is the best or only way to make this happen. I will give you caution; be wary and guarded, for this does not come without price. Dark things hide in corners of the universe, and some people seek to release them upon this world.”
“Of course, I am always careful!”
“Waldorf,” the stranger said, placing a hand on his friend’s arm, “I am serious, this is not an adventure without risk of danger. You are not to take this lightly or treat it as a folly. Remember your journey to… Do you understand?”
The men met eyes, and held each other’s gaze for a long moment. Waldorf nodded, and his mustaches waggled as he did. “Oh, I understand perfectly, my friend, and I shall take every precaution,” he said with intensity. Jack seemed satisfied, and released his arm. Waldorf turned to his niece and nephew, his mood light again. “Spencer. Trudy. Prepare the laboratory; we are changing our focus to a new project!”