Steampunk story I haven't got a name for yet

MATTIE

Forests. They were such interesting things. Of course, they didn’t really exist anymore. But still. Who could have known there were that many snakes in one place. She was going to find one someday. Who cared what Mrs. Margret Lottie Winch thought. Poor Mrs. Margret. She had no imagination at all.

Of course, she couldn’t actually do anything without Mrs. Margret’s approval, so technically, she should care what Mrs. Margret thought. When Mrs. Margret and her family had gone on vacation to the slightly less dirty beaches of Macaroni, Chimera Oswald, a fellow explorer, had been placed in charge, it had been two weeks of absolute horror.

Mattie should’ve been glad that she could actually walk into her own office four seconds before two. When Mrs. Margret had come back from vacation she was far from elated.

“There just as bad as the ones here!” She had snapped, when a much more socially proper and more attentive RA(research agent) had asked how her vacation had gone.

“I’m tired of all this junk! Somebody needs to clean up this mess.”

“I’m sorry. Our job is to explore things, not clean them up.” Said Larson, another RA.

“Maybe we should change that. But back to the Purpura butterfly, I need a live specimen to properly ascertain its anatomy. Theo, Calvin, will you go tomorrow?”

“My goodness! It doesn’t rely on anything!” Mattie had been examining a large Satis butterfly, who could live without food or water. Mrs. Margret’s head snapped around.

“What did you just say?” Mattie, however, was not at all paying attention to Mrs. Margret or anyone else around her. Mrs. Margret thought Mattie had been talking to her, and had said, “My goodness! She doesn’t rely on me for anything!”

“Excuse me? Mattie!” She tapped her on the arm, hard. Mattie was thrown back into the present, only to discover that everyone was staring at her.

“What? What happened?” Mrs. Margret was not impressed.

“Fine! I entrust this mission to you, Mattie. You go find me a Purpura butterfly. Also, will you come to tea with me at five? Thank you. We need to talk about…….. life.”

With that, she swept out of the room, leaving Mattie utterly confused except of the fact of coming to tea.

—-#—

Mattie walked to Mrs. Margret’s house. She didn’t feel like anything else. Not like she had many other options. She must like me! I’ve never been invited to tea before. I wonder why? She arrived forty minutes late, like she always did.

Maybe that’s why people didn’t invite her to tea. But she couldn’t understand why that was so wrong. Mrs. Margret’s house was beautiful. Its door was oak, ten feet high, with tiny rubies and diamonds set into the wood.

The handles were brass, thirty inches long, with grape vines and mermaids hammered in to the metal. There was a bronze and sapphire knocker, but Mattie didn't like her chances of breaking that thing, so she just knocked with her hand. The doors opened almost immediately. Mrs. Margret was standing there, her lips pursed, her eyebrows raised.

"Your a little late. Come in." Mattie followed her up to the table, which was just as imposing as the doors. It was mahogany, fourteen feet long, five feet wide. There were no jewels imbedded in the wood, thank goodness. The table was set. And what a tea it was, with platters full of Calico bread, boiled eggs, and crumpets.

There were thick cheese sandwiches, poached eggs, pickled radishes, crumbly cheeses, thick juicy pickles, and smooth chocolate pudding. Crockets of jam and butter were littered among the platters. Two small wooden trenchers lay opposite sides of each other. They each had a tiny napkin folded into the shaped of a butterfly, and there were little brass forks and spoons. The knives were sliver, and smaller than the forks or the spoons.

There were small chocolates on each plate, with gold wrapping. A large golden brown chicken sat in the middle of the table, glistening with sauce.

"Well?" Mrs. Margret's voice shook her back into the present. "Won't you sit down?" Her voice was dripping with forced politeness.

"Sorry." Mattie answered, and took her place at the food ladened table.

"Don't be." She said, tightly. Mrs. Margret served Mattie the best she could, because Mattie kept wandering off in her mind, thinking about the floor, the darkness in the living room, which she had never seen. In the end, Mattie ended up with many things she would have never asked for, such as more than one crumpet, blueberry jam, poached eggs, and a huge slice of chicken. She didn't really eat anything anyway.

"Go ahead, try your chicken." Mrs. Margret urged her. She was met with an expression less than excited.

"I'm not really hungry." Mattie pushed away her plate with a grimace, and set instead one a small chocolate pudding.

"Then why," Mrs. Margret answered, as kindly as she could, "are you eating pudding?" Mattie blinked.

"Because I like it. And I don't like crumpets." She decidedly went back to her pudding. Mrs. Margret sighed.

"So," Mattie said through a full mouth(Mrs. Margret had to fight the urge to tell her off), "life. That's what we were here to talk about, right? My life dream is to find a forest, which I can't do without a certificate from you. What's yours?"

Mrs. Margret cleared her throat and excused her self from the table. During her absence, Mattie helped herself to one of the gold wrapped chocolates beside her plate. Mrs. Margret returned to the table, carrying a small box.

"What's that? A snake?"

"Mattie, why do you like snakes so much?" She immediately wished she had not asked such a question.

"I don't know. People think there slimy, but there not." Mrs. Margret face pressed into an unreadable expression. At least, unreadable to Mattie.

"This," Mrs. Margret said, indicating the box, is a dead specimen of a Purpura butterfly. You will find a live one in Lllic County. I could go get one my self, except that I'm busy. However, you are not, so you will have to go. Do remember, you got yourself into this mess, you'll get yourself out of it. Now come on, I'll show you to the door."