The altered rhythm

An original fiction passage set in the nineteenth century.

Clara entered the pumping house behind Mr Vane, careful to place her boots where his had been. The great engine worked below them, each stroke steady enough to seem like a law. “You see,” he said, “there is nothing to fear.” She nodded, although a dark thread of water had begun to creep across the mortar beside his sleeve.

Then the rhythm altered. One stroke came late; the next struck hard enough to shake dust from the beams. A workman looked towards the stopping lever, but Mr Vane raised one finger and he turned away. Clara watched the thread widen, divide, and run. She folded the visitor’s plan and pushed it into Mr Vane’s hands.

“Stand back.”

Before he could answer, she stepped over the brass rail. The lever resisted her; she set both hands upon it. For three more strokes the whole building seemed to argue with her. Then the iron arms slowed, the floor settled, and into the sudden silence came the small, clear sound of water falling.