The Lady Astronomer (11 page)

She made Lucretia want to get some fabric
from her hat-making supplies and swathe it around her wobbling, powdered bosom,
with the fake beauty spot drawn on the top of her left globe. That or get some
smelling salts to force the woman to her senses.

Al’s clockwork orchestra played in the
corner, and Lucretia was glad they were focusing on soft music this evening
rather than some of the terrible rumptitty-ah tunes in vogue at the moment. The
old tunes were always the best ones.

Rammstein disturbed her reverie as she
stared at the plate in front of her. She couldn’t remember piling it with
cheeses and breads.

“So,
liebling
,” he
drawled. “I hear that we are to make a shack for you to assist your
brother with his work. Tell me, what is so interesting about looking up into
the skies to see what you can see?”

His words pained her a little. The work on
the Forty Foot had been going on at all hours, and she had been unable to get
uninterrupted stargazing done.

She became lost in a thought that made her
smile.

“That’s right, I am Freddie’s
assistant. I look to the sky and get lost in the beauty of it, so cold and
distant, yet so near and brilliant. And there is so much about it that we don’t
yet know! It is our life’s work to map it out. Much as Captains sail to new
lands to catalogue what they find there.”

“You are quite beautiful when you
smile.”

Lucretia blushed from the tips of her toes
to the ends of her hair, or so it felt. Rammstein laughed.

“It is not nice to joke,” she
said quietly, “I have been on the receiving end of many jokes and I can
assure you it is no fun to be made the fool of the piece. Excuse me.” She
pushed her chair back and left the room.

She stood in the corridor with her back to
the cool wall and bit her lip. She thought that her departure had gone
unnoticed until a deep cough made her look around.

“I think you have taken my words
wrong,” remarked Rammstein. “Come, we are not missed. Let us walk.”
His tone brooked no argument, and he took her arm gently and led her to the
door, taking her cloak from a stand in the hallway.

“Show me the cosmos, Lucretia. Tell me
of its diamonds and sparkling lightshows and cold breath as it caresses your
cheek. Make me understand, for we are building this structure for you and your
brother. It would be good to understand how it feels to be alone under the
vastness of it, how it feels to be insignificant under its glories.”

“You didn’t tell me you were a poet.”

“Ah, but I knew you were a cheeky one.”
He smiled at her as they walked through the courtyard and over the damp grass
to the foot of the structure. “I don’t like the way the wind is picking
up.”

“Al said that earlier.” She held
her cloak closer as the wind tried to tear it away with grasping fingers.

“Our talk will have to wait. I need to
check on something. For it is not finished yet, and the almanacs told of no
such storm approaching. Not to be trusted, I suppose.”

“Can I help you?” The wind was growing
stronger and it whipped her hair around her head in a vast, curled nimbus as
her words got lost in its encroaching anger.

“Go back inside, if you will, and
fetch the
Zwerge
for me.”

She walked back to the Astronomy room and
stood in front of the guests, their cheeks warmed by company and good food,
hers by the inclemency of nature.

“
Zwerge
, please come,” she
said, “it is getting very windy and Rammstein is worried for the
structure.”

No sooner were the words out of her mouth
than the small men had risen as one and left the room without a sound.

“Ladies, stay here if you will, Al,
Mr. V, Mr. O, if you will come with me.” Freddie’s firm tone belied his
growing fear.

“You’re not leaving me here, Freddie,
not for a second.” Lucretia stood, hands on hips.

“We shall stay my dear, for fear of
catching a glimpse at carpenter’s cleft,” Mrs. P tittered, and Lucretia
shot her a glare that would have withered one with any sense of comprehension
as to the urgency of the situation.

“Lucretia, nicely,” warned
Freddie as he ushered her out of the Astronomy room.

“Dear? And talking about bottoms is
not quite cricket at a time like this.”

“Neither is squabbling about someone
that I am coming to care about,” he rounded on her angrily. “She has
been nothing but nice to me and mine since we arrived and you are behaving like
a spoilt brat. Yes, she may not always watch her words, and yes, she may not be
educated to your standard–which, may I remind you was thanks to me. Enough!”
He left her behind and strode out into the darkness.

“Oh,” she whispered into the
emptiness of the hallway, feeling very small and shamed. The front door opened
and banged against the wall and she looked up to see who had come in, but there
was nobody there.

The candles left in the hall flickered out.
As she neared the door, she had to brace herself to continue walking against
the onslaught of the wind. She put her weight behind the door, and closed it.

Once in the courtyard, the wind played with
her like a bullying child; taunting and pushing and pulling. She stepped out of
the relative shelter that the walls offered and the full furies of the storm tore
her breath away.

The wind yanked the ribbons from her hair
and threw them high up into the air, curling away like fingers withdrawing from
a caress. Stupefied, she watched them snap away, where they were soon lost from
view. The rain pelted the ground and she pulled the hood of her cloak back up,
but within seconds was soaked through. Lucretia trudged on, leaning into the
wind and soon saw all the men labouring to lever a vast leg of timber to hold
the telescope frame in place.

She continued on, rain streaming into her
eyes and blinding her. Then there was an almighty boom, a crashing noise as if
the whole sky was being ripped asunder and she knew no more.

*

Lucretia was somewhere warm and white. She
lifted her fingers and stared as the light streamed through them, every blood vessel
highlighted as she wiggled them. It was funny somehow.

She could hear people coming and going, but
not see them.

The cool touch on her forehead was Mrs. O.
The tears that washed her face, O the Younger. The hand crushing hers, Mr. O.
The sighs and apologies were from Freddie–didn’t they have a fight?

The cool mesh as it touched her palm, Al.
Many small feet, the
Zwerge
. A small, furry body beside her, leathery
hand in hers, Leibniz. The soft breeze in her hair, Orion.

Louder now, the people who came, Mr. V
comforting his wife, and Mrs. P all scents and sniffing into a lace
handkerchief.

A voice she did not recognise, “We
will just have to wait and see if she comes out of it, I’m afraid.”

Another voice, she did, “Moonlight
becomes her. Let me open the window to let it in.”

That same voice told her fantastical tales
of forests and boars, no father and then a mother lost. Of wandering lonely and
hungry and cold and hurt until seven small men had given over their home to him.
They patched him up, sewed his wounds, took his arm when it became infected. A happier childhood. Growing, getting his first metal
arm and how the straps cut into his skin, losing his eye, meeting a girl who
came to stay with them.

Lucretia’s brow puckered.

The girl had eaten something bad and she
had died. The narrative continued slower now, broken. Of how they buried the girl
under a great oak in the forest and made their way, jobbing as they went, to
the United Kingdom and the service of the king.

They would leave once the structure was
finished and it was unlikely that they would see each other again, he and
Lucretia. The king sent them all over the many realms, often.

It was difficult not to have a home, but it
was an interesting life, and his heart was closed the day the girl died. Yet he
felt it unfolding since he had met Lucretia.

Lucretia moaned.

He pulled the blankets up around her,
kissed her cheek with a sweep of his eyelashes, butterfly soft, and rasped her
with his stubble until his lips met her skin.

She sighed.

There was pain, oh, the pain, and someone
was screaming. Was it her? Then the floating nothingness of it all.

*

“Lucretia! Lucretia!”

The voice came to her as if someone was
shouting down a well to where she was at the bottom.

A sharp stench assailed her and she turned
away from its source. That hurt. She frowned and lay still once more. The
sickening smell came again, and she put her hand to her nose to brush it away.

“She’s coming out of it.”

Lucretia recognised that voice. Who was it?

“Lucretia, wake up!” A finger
loomed large in her view as her eyelid was pulled back. She exhaled sharply and
pushed the offending digit away.

“Come now, I’m paying you a call. Haven’t
seen you since you first came to Britain. Come, would you not even wake for
long enough to say hello to an old friend?”

She frowned, brow furrowed into little
ploughs.

“Oh, no. Don’t be cross with me, or I
shall let you smell my Wake Up! concoction again.”

Lucretia convinced her eyes to open, and
shut them quickly again.

“Bright,” she muttered.

“I’ll close the drapes, dear one. Come
now, open your eyes again. Everyone is eager to see you, as am I!”

She opened her eyes and shut them again.

“Better,” she muttered.

“Lucretia H. Do you need me to give
you more concoction?”

“No. Look, see, I’m opening my eyes
now. Are you happy?”

“Ah, hello, grouchy girl.” She
was engulfed in a bear hug.

“Ouch.”

“Yes, you hurt your head. It is
swathed, but I shall take off the bandages now to have a look.”

“Thirsty.”

“Here is some water. Drink it sparingly.”

Lucretia gulped the water down and nearly
brought it back up as it hit her rebelliously empty stomach.

“I did say slowly.”

She sat up using her elbows as props, and
looked at her tormentor more closely.

“Mr. D! But what are you doing here?
Should you not be inflicting your vile draughts and wicked potions on
unsuspecting members of the public elsewhere?”

“A chemist’s work is never done, dear
heart. And I was on my way for a surprise visit to see your marvellous
telescope. News travels fast you know.

“But alas, I got here to find what
looks like a lot of large firewood on your front lawn, and you sadly and most
definitely unconscious. You have had everyone very worried, you know. I should
tell them all you are awake.”

Lucretia sank back onto her pillows. “Please,
no, not yet. I don’t want the fuss, you understand?”

“Perfectly.” The chemist smiled,
all wild hair and wilder eyes, and patted her hand.

“What happened?”

“Sit forward while I take your
bandages off, and I will tell you what I know.”

He unravelled her dressings and the tale as
best he could, seeing as he had only heard of it from others.

“You went out into the storm, and the
structure came toppling down just as you approached. You were rendered
unconscious by falling masonry. A nice fellow called Rammstein laid you down
here and has, apparently, been with you throughout. You have, by the way, been
here for ten days.”

“Ten days! I must look a fright!”

“I have seen scarier things in my
life, my dear, but not many.”

“Oh, Mr. D, if I weren’t feeling quite
so awful, I’d jump up and make you see the errors of your way with that
statement.”

“Lie down, my dear, and I’ll see if I
can’t wash your face and brush your hair. I have some mint leaves in my pocket,
and I’ll send for some food and drink, but tell your household that you need
some extra time. How does that sound?”

Lucretia sniffed.

“Ah now, it’s only natural to feel a
little sorry for yourself after such an incident. Let me get myself organised
and I shall tell you some amusing tales to pass the time. Your monoscope was
damaged, but Al has been working hard to fix it.”

She sat up again, frantic. “Does that
mean that all and sundry have seen my eye?”

“Lucretia,” rebuked Mr. D, “you
and I are going to have to have a little talk about what a wonderful young lady
you are and how appearances actually don’t matter. I know it is important for
one to present a clean, groomed appearance, but still. The ladies were never
put off by my fuzzy mane.”

“No, just your equally fuzzy eyebrows
and rather manic expression.” She sank back once again and let the bed
take all the weary weight from her.