The Lady Astronomer (4 page)

The orchestra formed a line. Owls handed
buckets to monkeys, who placed them in front of the elephants. The elephants
sucked the water into their trunks, turned, and sprayed the fire like tiny
hoses.

Freddie laid Al on the ground. He fished
around, found his jacket and put it under his brother’s head. He sat back on
his heels. “We are going to need the doctor.”

“But surely he will recover
sufficiently once he has been in the fresh air?”

Freddie knelt over his brother and held up
Al’s hand. Part of the flesh was burnt and the rest blistered like an overdone
crab.

Lucretia’s mouth dropped open and her eyes filled
with hot, stinging tears that were not only from the smoke.

“What about his violin playing and
inventing?”

*

“If I could find that architect of
doom, I would ring his neck. I swear I would!” Freddie paced the sick
room.

It had been a slow journey back to the
family home, brother and sister worried about hurting Al further. And having to
herd the orchestra made it no easy trek.

“Freddie, it wasn’t his fault. I
should have made a bigger sign,” Al wheezed, as pale as the sheets on
which he lay.

“We have talked this to death. Sorry,
Al. We were leaving anyway, and the most important thing has been saved from
disaster.” Lucretia glanced up from her work and to the bed. Her eye was
magnified tenfold behind her largest monoscope. She had fitted it earlier as
she was working on the clockwork orchestra, who had wound down, exhausted from
their efforts. She buffed Bram Cat to get his brass back to what it had been
before the ash from the fire blackened him. He purred once and fell silent.

Lucretia placed the cat back on the table
top with the rest of his companions and unscrewed the telescopic end of her
monoscope.

“So, brothers, what are we to do now?
Al, how is your hand?”

“Doctors! Pah,” interrupted
Freddie. “Salves and unguents and herbs and bleedings and goodness knows
what else. Slugs! That’s it! Slugs and leeches, ugh.” He shuddered.

“It will be fine. You’ll see.” Al
was at his reassuring best as Freddie blustered, continuing his tirade against
the medical profession.

She came to sit on the bed. “Truly?”

“Truly.” He smiled, and held his
bandaged digits up. “I have always wanted a metal contrivance.”

Lucretia regarded the blankets, picking
morosely at a cotton piling.

“At least I won’t be the only oddity
in the family.” She smiled and he laughed out loud, motioning to Freddie.

“You think we are the oddities?”

*

Running up the scales before her
performance was akin to running with Orion perched on her arm and Leibniz
clinging to her neck. Through mud. With a skirt stuck to her ankles. And
possibly hopping up and down on one foot rather than running.

Lucretia sighed noisily and turned away
from the music stand. Freddie’s composition that she was to sing and Al was to
accompany on the violin sat there, mocking her

Neither was going to happen, not tonight.
She coughed and banged her chest, feeling very sorry for herself. Her soprano
had deepened, she felt, to bass. Giving it up as a loss, she left the room and
went to find Al…and bumped straight into Freddie.

“Lucretia, my you are looking cross.”

“You’d be cross if someone turned you
castrato.”

“That’s hardly fair. What have I done
now, little sis?”

“Ignore me. But I can’t possibly sing
for you tonight.”

“True.”

“It’s the smoke you see, my chest
feels like it has brass tubing around it.”

“Indeed.”

“And my high notes are more like a cow
bellowing.”

“No change there, then my dear.”

“My throat has been scratched by cat’s
claws of effluvium.”

“Unusually poetic of you, sweetness.”

“While my–Freddie, did you just call
me sweetness?”

“You haven’t been listening to me at
all. I agreed with you after your very first sentence. There is no way on earth
that you can sing. Or indeed that Al can play the violin.”

“Well then.”

“Indeed. Let’s talk no more of tubing
and bellowing and claws. Have some rest, my dear. I should think that’s what Al
is doing right now.”

*

Al, much recovered, stood at his workbench,
a long leather apron covering his clothes and keeping sparks from making
contact and starting another blaze. His hand stung, but the comfrey salve did
give him some relief.

Orion blinked at him and shuffled over to a
spot on the bench that was nearer to the fire. He closed his eyes in bliss.

Leibniz sat on Al’s shoulder, bright with
curiosity.

“Here you big lump,” said Al. “Get
down from there and help me with this hand.”

The lemur sat on the desk in front of the
inventor and awaited his instructions.

“This just isn’t going to work you
know.” He picked up the hand piece from a suit of armour and examined it. “Too
heavy, not enough flexibility. The doctor says my hand will be scarred, but wasn’t
so burned as to damage the muscles. So I really just need protection against
any possible future accidents. Ah damn, I’m fresh out of ideas today. Must
still be tired.” He grunted and pulled the three-legged stool out from
under the table before sitting heavily on it.

He stared at the crackling flames in the
workshop fireplace, lit for companionship rather than work tonight. The huge
bellows hung uselessly on a hook.

Al knew in his heart it was unlikely he
would play the violin again. His fingers would never fully regain sensation.
Still, he was right-handed, so it could have been worse.

So lost was he in his reverie, he did not
hear the lemur assembling parts on the bench. So hurt in hand and mind he did
not see the clever creature lay a thin mesh of brass, much like knights of old
would have worn under their armour, on top of a black calfskin glove.

The precocious primate pulled on Al’s arm
to get his attention, and not receiving it, barked.

“Leibniz, sorry. I was far away. What
is it?”

The lemur scurried over to what he had done
and sat beside it proudly.

“Well, I never…” Al stood up so
quickly the stool overbalanced and clattered to the floor.

“You clever little creature. I never
knew you had it in you!” He picked Leibniz up, and humming a tune under
his breath, danced around the room with the armful of fur. A sharp cough
stopped him mid-step.

“Al, are you sure you are quite
alright?” Freddie stood in the doorway. “You are not running a fever
or some such?” He walked over and touched his brother’s brow. “You
are a tad hot, you know.”

“I have been sitting in front of the
fire, and then dancing, of course I am hot!” His voice came out a little
shrill in his embarrassment and dread of being mollycoddled. Freddie could be
such a mother hen sometimes.

“Fine. So, what are you up to? I came
to say that our recital at the Pump Rooms is, of course, cancelled. Lucretia
feels that she would give Daisy our milk cow a run for her money in lowing. And
I am sure your hand is, um, not quite recovered enough yet to play.”

“Freddie, there is no need to cover
it in honey–no, not my hand you dolt, your words. We both know I am unlikely to
play again. What will I do?”

“Ah. Don’t despair, Al. We are headed
for a new life, so why not take up inventing full time? Will you be able to do
that? Surely it won’t require the same amount of finesse?”

“Well now, that’s debatable, Freddie.
Some of the bits that I work with are very small and fiddly enough.”

“A helper, an apprentice, that’s it!”

Al smiled at the lemur who had fallen
asleep in his arms. “I think I have already found one.”

“Leibniz?” Freddie shrieked so
loudly that he awakened the aforementioned.

“Indeed, look at what he has laid out
on the workbench.”

Freddie did as he was told, boot heels
ringing on the flagstones as he made his way to the bench. He picked up the
mesh with one hand and the glove with the other.

“Let me guess. No, no, don’t help me.
Well, the glove is obviously for you. The brass–now that’s clever. Latticed and
thin. Got it! Is it for draining the curds in cheese making?”

“No.”

“Ehm. Right, definitely have it this
time. The glove is for cook to wear to save her hand from pastries fresh from
the fire, while the lattice is to make shapes on top of said pastries.”

“Nope.”

“Some kind of screen for something?”

“Not even close.”

“A carrying device into which is
slotted devilishly small things?”

Al sighed.

“Come on then, what is it for?”

Al took the glove and mesh from him. “I’ll
thank you not to wave these in the air willy-nilly. The glove is indeed for me.
The mesh is to be attached to save my hand from any hard knocks.”

“Oh. Clever.”

“Quite.”

“What’s clever?”

“Oh. Hello, Lucretia. Would you mind
if I borrowed Leibniz from time to time to help with my inventing processes?”

“Leibniz? Will he not try to eat your
cogs and gears and so on?”

The lemur looked at her balefully, utterly
affronted by such a slight.

“No, he is quite the clever little
chap.”

“Really? I was led to believe that
lemurs,” she whispered, “were not the most cognizant of creatures.”

Leibniz gave her a withering look such as
Lot’s wife bestowed on him before she was turned into a pillar of salt.

“Apologies.” She held up her
hands in supplication. “I have it all wrong.”

Leibniz bristled.

“He has already made me something,
look.” Al held the glove and mesh up for her inspection.

“Clever chap indeed!” She walked
over and scratched the lemur behind his ear. His weak spot and her cheap shot.

“You know what this is for?”
demanded Freddie.

“Well of course I do, it is obviously to
protect Al’s hand. Wrap the mesh around the glove, attach it by means of–not
sure about that Al–and it will protect and give strength to his damaged digits.”

Freddie quickly changed the subject, hating
as he did to be bettered in the knowledge stakes. “Now, about the citizens
of Bath. I have let it be known that we will not be performing, and since we
are off on an adventure for the king, that was taken without a murmur. Of
course they all want hats, telescopes, violins and Al, a Mrs…” He pulled a
card from his jacket. “Mrs. T requests the pleasure of your company where
she would like to introduce you to her daughters. Of which she has six.”
Freddie wiggled his eyebrows roguishly.

“Married? Me?” Al turned as pale
as he had been in his sick bed and groped around for the fallen stool.

*

Leibniz made the only noise in the room,
his specially adapted knitting needles effortlessly turning out the plain and
purl stitches. Al had refined the brass thread even further. It lay at the
lemur’s feet, wound into a tight ball which glowed bronze in the candlelight.

Orion, perched on a stand in the corner of
the room, made a dart now and again for the ball, only to be swatted away by a
paw and a view of Leibniz’s teeth.

Al popped his head around the door to check
up on his glove’s progress and was greeted by a shimmering carpet of fine mesh.

“Oh, I think that’s enough now,
Leibniz. Don’t you? Yes this will do admirably. Thank you, my friend.”

The primate snatched the mesh back and
growled crossly.

“Taken to knitting, have we? Well, why
don’t you give me that and then I can set you to work on hats and gloves for
our trip. And, since I will have to get up on a horse, possibly some padding
for my breeches. In case of bites.” He grimaced.

Leibniz held the needles and material high
so Al had to reach for them.

“Please?”

The crafty lemur shoved it all into a big
heap and sat on it.

Al sighed. “Lucretia! Could you please
come and sort Leibniz out for me?”

“Honestly!” Lucretia’s
disembodied voice came from the end of the hallway, growing in strength and
grumbles as she approached the room and stepped through the door.

Man, lemur, and owl blinked in surprise as
she stood in front of them, hands on hips.

“Lucretia, what happened to you? Are
you ill?”

“What do you mean am I ill? Of course
I’m not ill, now what is this about?”

Al took her hand. “Are you sure, my
dear?”

She took her hand back. “Well, of
course I am!”