The Lady Astronomer (8 page)

Al walked into the room and left again just
as quietly when he saw the giant sitting with his sister without her monoscope
on.

“Mrs. O and I have seen our own share
of troubles,” he said as he rubbed the cloth as softly as he could across
a lens. “We have been burnt out of lodgings, called freaks, and shouted
after until we thought we would never find a safe place. We have found it here
and we are most grateful to you and your brothers, Ms. H.”

“Is that what happened to your face?”

“Indeed.” He stroked the metal
plate on his cheek, staring into the flames. “My son was a baby when our
lodgings were burnt. I had to go back in to save him from his crib. He only had
some small burns that salves and unguents soon fixed, but his hair has never
grown back properly. Which is why he wears such a confection upon his bonce. I
was not so lucky.” He shrugged. “But what do I care for my appearance
when my boy was saved?”

“My own vision will never be what it
was, but I am grateful to have one working orb.”

He smiled as he screwed the bits of the telescope
together again until it was at full length and then collapsed the pieces into
each other like a Russian doll.

“Very clever indeed, this,” he
continued as he slotted in the cleaned lenses. “I suppose your brother
made this for you?”

Screams filled the house and they both
leapt to their feet.

“It’s coming from the kitchen,”
shouted Lucretia. Mr. O was hot on her heels as they skidded down the hallway.

Letter, Lost
A Right Royal Visitor
A Barge On The
Thames
Toothache
A Rosebush Gives Its Life

They sat at the large scarred wooden table
in the kitchen.

Mr. O held his son’s ruined wig in his
hands, while O the Younger held his face in his. He looked up from time to time
to scowl at Leibniz, who had fallen asleep in Lucretia’s arms after his sugar
frenzy.

Plates and cups lay smashed on the floor, and
sugary paw prints ran the length of the walls and the ceiling. The lemur had
even half eaten the roses that Mrs. O had picked and put in a large earthenware
jug on the table. There would be further trouble if he had swallowed some
thorns.

“I am sorry about your wig. I can make
you another, Master O. Perhaps one in a different colour so that smuts from the
fire won’t dirty the white? One with ribbons?” Lucretia stared hopefully
at the youth, trying to raise a smile.

The young man ran his finger up and down a
groove in the table.

“Really now, that’s enough.” Mr.
O laid the wig on the table and pushed his chair back. “The lemur got to
the sugar, which by the way, you had left out. The lemur has a sweet tooth,
ergo the sugar is as pretty a lure as could be. Ms. H has offered to make you a
wig, where is the problem? You should be tidying up the mess left here rather
than moping over your headgear.”

Leibniz burped, and Lucretia turned her
nose up at the sickly sugary stench that issued forth, the fumes nearly gave
her a high.

Ever the peacekeeper, she intervened. “Come
with me to my lodgings, I am sure we can find you something that you will be
happy with. Besides, fatty here needs to sleep this off somewhere other than my
arms. He really is very heavy.” She laid him over her shoulder like some
particularly large fur stole, dead to the world. He would doubtless have a sore
head when he woke.

“Thank you then,” said O the
Younger. “I will make sure that everything is put back in its place later,
but I’m not sure how to replace the things that got broken during the lemur’s
sweetie spree.”

Lucretia laughed. “I’m sure there are
more things in one of the chests that have yet to be unpacked. Don’t worry
about it. I learned about Leibniz and his sweet tooth the hard way, too.”
She smiled and he took the lemur from her.

Leibniz didn’t stir and the Younger
staggered slightly. “You weren’t joking, were you?” He took the wig
from the table and bestowed a beam on his father that had not been seen for
quite some time.

Mr. O watched his son and new employer
leave the room, smiling. “Well met,” he thought.

*

“Put him on my bed there and he can
recover in his own good time,” Lucretia directed the Younger, who placed
the lemur on the bed more gently than Leibniz had a right to after the kitchen
chaos.

“Shall I cover him up, too?”

“
I suppose so.” Lucretia sighed.
“Come and sit and I will fetch my
hat-making supplies.”

A large snore filled the room, followed by
a sound like bees buzzing, and he wondered if Lucretia ever got any sleep
sharing her rooms with the lemur and eagle owl.

Lucretia appeared dragging a large chest. The
Younger jumped from his seat and helped her to haul it to the centre of the
room.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought quite
so much.” She huffed and blew a curl out of her face, cheeks flushed.

“May I?” He knelt and opened the
hasp of the box, gasping in delight as the hinged lid fell back to show a
rainbow coloured selection of myriad materials, buttons, threads, and paste
jewels. He plunged his hands in and brought them up, laughing as rubies and
emeralds and sapphires leaked through his fingers.

“But this is just wonderful! I adore
it!”

“You should have seen some of the hats
I made for the ladies in Bath. Honestly, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
She delighted in his delight.

“Well then I won’t ask. What shall we
make for me? It is a wig really, but the reason I was so upset is that the one
that Leibniz destroyed was extremely soft. Did my father tell you about our
troubles and the fire?”

“He did. You must have been terrified.”

“Well, I was too young, really, to
remember much. And I got away with a just a tender head while my Dad… well.”

“I understand, truly I do.”

He smiled at her gratefully. “Anyway,
my bonce is rather sore, and my hair never recovered, so I need a nice soft
wig. Any ideas?”

“I could line it with sheepskin, and
then decorate it with fabulous jewels, if you like?

“Marvellous!” He clapped his
hands together. “What was that?” He turned around at the noise.

“Do you know, I haven’t a baldy’s
notion. No disrespect intended.”

“None taken.”

“I’ve heard that noise while I’ve been
in here before, but I can’t imagine what it would be. If it were a creature,
Orion would have despatched it long before now.”

She walked around the room, put her finger
to her lips and pointed down to a large space between the floorboards,
partially covered by a rug. The Younger joined her.

Lucretia lifted a corner of the rug and a
letter flew up at her. She batted it away in alarm and it came to settle on the
Younger’s chest, quivering. He picked it off, and held it out at arm’s length.

“What on earth?” She took it and
turned it over in her hands.

“It’s a clockwork letter! I don’t
believe it! I have heard of these but never seen one. They are all the rage,
apparently, and the missive-carrying avians including doves, owls, and pigeons
are in uproar. Or so I’ve been told.”

Lucretia carefully broke the seal on the
letter, and it sighed and wound down, the key having come away as the dark
embossed wax cracked.

She read the note once and then twice, and
her hand went to her mouth.

“What day is it?”

“It’s Thursday, why?”

“Oh, arse! It’s a bloody letter from
the king! He wrote to tell us that he was coming to see how we were getting on
with the Great Forty Foot! And the letter got stuck and has obviously been here
for days! Arse! Freddie!” She ran out of the room in a turn of speed that
surprised both herself and O the Younger, who followed her, wig in hand.

*

Freddie was in the Astronomy room, writing
furiously. The time had come to hire workmen, and he was calculating how much
labour would be needed. How much wood, how much brass, and how much coal. A
frame to hold the huge device in place, pulleys, and an observation room under
the scope was also needed. He really had to calculate it perfectly, down to the
last cut of timber.

He had attempted to cast and polish the
huge mirrors for the telescope himself, trying and discarding, trying and
discarding, while Al stood patiently feeding the fire so it would be hot
enough. Once the mirrors had cooled, they were sprinkled with sand, and then
rubbed until they shone. But you had to be so careful. One inadvertent gouge in
the surface and that was that. It was back-and mind-numbing work and there was
no room whatsoever for error.

They finally had the perfect mirror, when
Al turned to Freddie and uttered the dreadful words: “Are you sure you
have the measurements right?”

And after that it was total chaos. Freddie’s
figures were out. Everything was a disaster. There was no more money left for
the mirrors. He would have to beg the king for
more.

Another plea to add to the list, as Freddie
worked out that the mirrors would now have to be cast in London rather than in
Slough, and travel from there by barge down the Thames.

His head started to thud.

“Freddie!” Lucretia burst into
the room, wild-eyed and panting.

“Lucretia.” He stood quickly and
went to her. “What’s the matter?”

“Letter.” She held it out to him,
arm around her waist. “Read it.”

Which he did.

“Oh, my word. What day is it today?”

“Thursday,” replied O the Younger
who had arrived a few seconds after Lucretia.

Freddie’s mouth opened and shut like a
goldfish.

“All hands to the pump! I’m going to
clean up the kitchen and make some treats so tasty that His Majesty will be
overcome with pastry pleasure.” The Younger jammed the ruined wig onto his
head and ran out of the room shouting for his mother and father.

“Where is Al? His work room is always
in perfect condition and we should line up his orchestra to play for the king
while we take afternoon tea.” Lucretia paced the room, hands clasped and
then apart again.

“Why did we not get the letter earlier,
Lucretia?”

“It’s a long story Freddie. Clockwork
letter falls through gap in floor just about sums it up for the moment though. Oh,
look at you! You need to go and change, quickly. I’ll tidy the papers here.”

“Too late.” Freddie’s voice shook
and she followed his finger as it pointed to the view outside their window. The
king was alighting from his carriage, the royal puddle coverer holding his cape
over the ground lest his most royal of royals step into anything unspeakable.

“Arse!”

The king looked at the window and gave the royal
wave, while Lucretia waved back weakly, sincerely hoping he had not heard her.
She flew once more from the room, to warn the O’s and to try to make it out to
Al.

“Don’t leave me! What will I do?”
Freddie’s wail reached her and she turned back.

“Just keep him distracted, you’re good
at waffling on.”

*

“And, so, Your Majesty, in summation,
I require some more funding from the royal purse with which to build the Great Forty
Foot Telescope for his Majesty’s pleasure. Your Majesty?” Freddie had done
it again, and literally sent his audience to sleep. Damn it, now he would have
to go over it all again.

A knock came at the door, and Freddie got
up to answer it.

“Just in time.” He beamed as the
Younger entered the room with a huge tray on which were placed the tea things.
Lucretia followed, with a plate of fancies, and Al brought up the rear with a
cake shaped in a crown.

“Your Majesty.” Freddie cleared
his throat. “Your Majesty,” he tried again.

“Sire.” Lucretia’s voice rang
clear as a bell. “It is time for tea and cake, if you would be interested.”

“What, what? Tea? And cake?
Marvellous, just marvellous.” He sat up eagerly. “And who are you,
young lady? And you, sir?”

“This is my sister, Your Majesty,
Lucretia. She is my Assistant.”

Lucretia sketched a curtsey.

“And my brother, Al. He is an
inventor.”

“Ah, very good. I have a Clockwork
Court, so am interested in the ins and outs of mechanical beings. In fact, I
have been told that I am rather adept.” The king stared at Lucretia’s
monoscope rather than at Al.

“What is that thing?”

“It is called a monoscope, Your Majesty.
My eye was left damaged as a child, and it helps me to see things on a day to
day basis, but also converts into a telescope when I am at my work.”
Lucretia replied without missing a stride.

“I see.”

Lucretia smiled weakly. “How do you
take your tea, Your Majesty?”

“Eight lumps of sugar and plenty of
milk. And I’ll have three pieces of that cake.”