The Lady Astronomer

The Lady
Astronomer

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2012 by Katy O’Dowd

Cover Design © 2012 by Christina Aubin

Cover Art
© 2012 by Jennie Gyllblad

First Untold Press Publication / September
2012

All rights Reserved. This book or any
portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without
the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.

Names, characters, places, and incidents
are the products of the author’s imagination and or used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

Published by Untold Press LLC

114 NE Estia Lane

Port St Lucie, FL 34983

www.untoldpress.com

PRODUCED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

For Tadgh

With thanks to Sean Hayden and Jennifer
Wylie for charging in on a white horse when I needed it most–and for their
kindness, help, and belief.

To all at Untold Press for their generous
support.

To Jennie Gyllblad for the beautiful cover.

To Matthew Delman for his encouragement.

To Derek Flynn and Ruairi Kavanagh for
reading.

And to Nick Howes, Faulkes Telescope
Programme Manager, whose book recommendation led to me writing The Lady
Astronomer.

Special Notes

We are proud to publish our first novel
from an author who lives outside of North America. Katy hails from Ireland.
When reading this novel, please keep in mind that English is not spelled the
same everywhere! Because she is from Ireland and her characters also dwell in
Europe, we maintained her uses and spellings. Enjoy!

In Which Stargazing Becomes A Spectator Sport
Royal
Correspondence
A Hat
A Telescope
A Violin

Siphonaptera jumped on to the flat roof,
hidden by his tiny size and the darkness of the still night. Though stars
peppered the skies with diamond dust, their light would no more have
illuminated the predator than a candle at one end of a particularly dank,
gloomy tunnel.

He paused on his long hind legs, lifted his
head, and fixed a beady eye on his prey. Three warm bodies for him to gorge on.
If his front legs had been longer he would have rubbed them together in glee at
the thought of the crimson blood lying in wait within his unknowing quarry.

Blood. His tube-like mouth parts quivered
in anticipation. He jumped again and came ever closer. His tiny belly rumbled
and he stopped before realising the noise was so minute, nobody could possibly
have heard it.

Victory would be his! Just one more jump. Two.
Three. The excitement of wanting, and knowing it was within reach, filled him
in a great rush.

And then he knew no more.

*

A sudden shriek made Lucretia’s heart leap
and her hand fly to her chest. Her head whipped round and her left eye, hugely magnified behind her monoscope, fixed on her
ring-tailed lemur crouched nearby.

“Leibniz, how many times have I asked
you not to make noise when I’m at a critical juncture?” She sighed. “What
do you have there, boy?”

The lemur sauntered over, arms behind his
back.

“Show, Leibniz. Show.” She raised
herself from the roof and brushed down her dress.

Leibniz reluctantly held his arm forward
and opened his paw. Within lay a smudged smear that had once been Siphonaptera.
Lucretia peered until she could make out what it was. She stepped back and
grimaced.

“Well, feel free to eat it. I hate
fleas.”

The lemur’s pink tongue picked the squashed
flea up gently and deposited it into his mouth. Leibniz closed his eyes in
appreciation and savoured the tiny flavour before it disappeared, which it did
rather too quickly for his liking. He scratched his bottom, sat down, and looked
up enquiringly at Lucretia. His long black and white striped tail curled like a
question mark.

“Don’t ask me.” She shrugged. “Let’s
get on with some more work before sunrise.” So saying, she settled down on her stomach again and lifted her
Newtonian sweeper telescope to her good eye.

“Now, where was I?” She muttered,
trying to find the exact patch of sky she had been studying before being so
rudely interrupted.

*

Orion, the European eagle owl, owner of the
third warm body on the roof, grew bored. He hadn’t been interested in the whole
flea debacle. Quite apart from anything else, he couldn’t actually see things up
close. Soaring bird, yes. Tiny blood-sucking insect, not so much.

He toddled over to Lucretia, and getting no
response from waiting patiently for her to notice him, turned his head, peered
down, and placed himself firmly in her monoscope’s sights.

“Oh, arse!” She frowned at the
owl. “Orion! Honestly! I’m not getting anything done tonight. That’s right.
You have the grace to look sheepish. You silly big boy. Oh, no, don’t give me
that sad face. Oh, alright then! Hug.”

If owls could smile, he would have have grinned. His amber-coloured eyes glazed
over in bliss and his ear tufts vibrated like a
purring cat’s chest.

Lucretia sighed and set him out of her way.

“Now look, Orion. I do love you, but I
am actually trying to map progress here. Why don’t you spend some time with
Leibniz?”

Owl looked at lemur and lemur looked at
owl.

Time passed, and both owl and lemur slept,
snoring lightly.

*

The good citizens and creatures of Bath
slumbered on. Lucretia remained awake, as she did every night, absorbed in her
celestial cataloguing. It was a fine night for viewing, not too cold and only a
faint breeze lifted her dark tresses before settling them back gently on her
shoulder cape. Her hands were gloved and her feet booted, which was perfect
clothing for lying out under the stars.

The only noise was the soft squeak of brass
as Lucretia adjusted her sweeper. There was also the occasional fart from Leibniz,
but the less said about those the better. If one of those unearthly gusts
should waken the owl, the lemur knew well enough not to be too offended if a
large wing knocked him to the ground.

“Boo!”

Lucretia jumped to her feet, Orion opened a
sleepy eye, and Leibniz was instantly on the alert, running to her and settling
himself on her shoulder under her mass of curls.

“Lucretia, you’re shaking. Good
fright, wasn’t it?”
Freddie
grinned at his younger sister.

“Freddie!
You great blundering buffoon! You frightened the life
out of me.”

“You were pretty engrossed alright. Sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“I so am.”

“Freddie, what are you doing up here?”
Lucretia stood with her hands on her hips. Leibniz, ready to do battle,
mimicked her pose.

“Hey, Leib.” Freddie made to
stroke the lemur and the primate grabbed his hand.

“He doesn’t like to be called Leib,
you should know that by now. Leibniz, give my brother his hand back. What
exactly do you want, Fred?”

“I didn’t come here to argue with you.”
He beamed. “You’ll never guess.”

“I’m sure I won’t.”

“Go on.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Silence.

Freddie sighed, theatrically. “You are
no fun.” He shook his head. “Anyway, the king heard about the planet
I named after him and he is going to fund us to build a megascope!”

“Us? A ‘megascope’?”

“Yes, a Great Forty Foot telescope!”

“Oh, arse.”

“No, no. It will be great!”

“You have that look on your face…”

“What look?”

“The one you get when you’ve done
something that you shouldn’t have. Yes, that one right there.”

Freddie gazed at the toe of his boot as he made lazy circles with it.

“Freddie.”

“Don’t look so stern!”

“Freddie.”

“Oh, alright! We kind of have to move,
you and me and Al, and the owl and the lemur of course can come. And all of our
equipment.”

“Move to where? What about our shops
and our lives here, and your students and Al’s inventions?”

“Al can invent anywhere. We close the
shops, bid farewell to the students, and become full-time astronomers.”

“Oh.”

“I see that has silenced you, little
sis.” He studied her pretty face, pockmarks softened by the night’s light,
fiercely intelligent…and annoyed. “Please don’t be cross. We’re going to
move to Slough, to be near the king. It will be such fun!”

“But I like making hats, and you like
making telescopes, and Al likes making…well. Al likes making!”

“Lucretia, we can keep making and our
futures will be assured. Now stop fussing. Come downstairs and I will show you
and Al the correspondence from the king.”