All Men of Genius

by Lev AC Rosen

  Jack looked at the hat. “Pheasant,” he said. “A large one, I’d guess.”

  “Is everything planned out?” Ashton asked softly. He was clearly anxious for the scheme to go off perfectly. Jack and Violet would go to the school tomorrow, to enroll and begin the semester. Ashton had already bought several suits and shirts in Violet’s size, and Violet had mastered her own costume. Sharing rooms was required for the first- and second-year students, so Jack and Violet had both written to the duke requesting they be roomed together, and the duke had granted this request.

  “We’ll be fine, brother,” Violet said with a sigh. They’d been over the plan countless times. She wanted to focus on the joy she would have as a student, not the stress of keeping up her disguise.

  “We’ll meet you at the house every Sunday,” Jack recited, sensing Ashton’s nervousness. “Violet will have a letter for Mrs. Wilks, and you’ll mail it. This will keep her from coming to town unexpectedly. Although, hullo—I’ve just thought of something. When we go home for breaks, won’t Mrs. Wilks expect Violet to bring her new lady’s maid with her?”

  “I’ll just tell her I sent her home for the holidays,” Violet said.

  “That may work for Christmas,” Ashton said anxiously, “but not for always. This is a problem.” He began fussing with his vest.

  Violet hated this particular nervous habit of his. She put her mind to the task. “We’ll hire an actress,” she said. “Explain the situation and have her pretend to be my lady’s maid. We’ll pay her well, and she’ll stay in a nice house in the country. All she’ll have to do is be able to put up hair. Most actresses have to do much worse.”

  “Some actresses,” Ashton huffed, “are more than just streetwalkers on a stage.”

  “I hope so,” Violet said, “because she’ll have to fool Mrs. Wilks. But, in any case, we don’t need to worry about that just yet.”

  “No,” Ashton said, “not when there are so many other things to worry about.” Violet sighed and leaned back into the chair. For the entire trip to London, Ashton made them go over the plot: the rules they must follow, the ways they would communicate, the ways of behaving like a man that Violet had yet to master, and what to do if someone discovered her secret, which usually amounted to bribery. Violet and Jack listened and half responded, thinking more of what they would feel in Illyria.

  * * *

  WALKING into the college as an accepted student was, for some reason, more terrifying than walking in as a potential student. Perhaps it was the feeling that she was now being judged, or that what was once just a ridiculous idea had blossomed into the actual fruit of a plot dangling heavily on the branch, likely to fall down any moment, leaving only shattered rind, pulp, and juices.

  She swallowed.

  “No helping it now,” Jack said, grabbing her by the arm and steering her through the garden and into the college. Other students were rushing past them or standing off to the side, admiring the flora before going in. Each was dressed in his best suit, with tie and hair firmly in place. Behind them, in a busy dance, porters and servants took luggage from the students’ carriages and brought it into the college.

  The Great Hall, where the students assembled, was set up as it had been for the interviews, but now Violet and Jack took more time to admire it. It was at least two stories high, with doors from the lobby and a few pairs of doors to the side as well. The entrance they used brought them in facing the great turning wheel and the wall of gears. A story or so above them, a bridge with a marble railing stretched from one wall to the other. There didn’t seem to be a way up to the bridge from inside the Great Hall. It seemed instead to lean over the hall, from one part of the school to the other. There were fifteen chairs set up in front of the raised stage, each with a name on it. Jack and Violet found theirs in the front row and picked up the sheets of paper attached to them.

  “Our schedules,” Jack said, flipping through his packet. “A map of the building, and book lists, and when lectures are going to be. Ah, and room keys,” he said, pulling a thin key out from the sheaf of papers. Violet glanced at her schedule. It was surprisingly simple: a class from nine to noon every day of the week except Saturday and Sunday, and then she was expected to work in one of the labs independently, under a professor’s supervision, from one to six. On Saturdays there was a lecture by the headmaster or a special guest in place of class, and then more independent time in the labs. Sundays were free—to worship, Violet supposed. The class schedule would change every trimester. It seemed simple to Violet, and gave her plenty of time to use the school’s resources to work on her own projects. She smiled. She flipped to the map and began studying it, trying to memorize the location of each lab. The Great Hall was flanked by the dining hall and kitchens, through the halls to the side, and the duke’s private apartments, which the map clearly stated were off-limits without an invitation. In the basement was the mechanical laboratory and the chemical laboratory. Above the kitchens were the professors’ offices, and above that, the—

  “Sit down,” Jack whispered. Violet looked up. The chairs were all full and everyone was seated. Violet quickly sat down just as the side door flew open. In marched the duke, followed by the professors and, to Violet’s surprise—and not just hers, she wagered by the sudden intakes of breath around her—the Countess Lovelace, Ada Byron. She remembered that the countess was the duke’s godmother, but hadn’t expected to see her on the first day.

  The professors and the countess walked onto the stage and took their seats; then the duke stepped forward to a podium and addressed the students. “Welcome,” he said, “to a new year at Illyria. My father founded Illyria with the intention of creating a place where the greatest scientific minds could come together to learn from one another, and where the most promising students of the sciences, regardless of class or station, can come together and learn. The returning students know this already. You are here to learn, and to work hard to use that knowledge. Fail me in this, fail my father in this, fail yourself in this, and you fail the world. You were brought here to fulfill your promise. Your promise, and my father’s promise. Don’t disappoint us.”

  The students and professors all applauded the opening statements. “Returning students, you should know what to do. Go find your rooms and move in, and meet the rest of us in the dining hall for lunch at noon.” Everyone behind the front row got up and left quietly, leaving only Violet, Jack, and the three other new students in the hall. “New students. Please stand.”

  Violet and Jack stood. The professors gazed down on them silently. Violet felt her hands sweating. What sort of initiation would they have to endure?

  “What I have said goes doubly for all of you. The returning students have proved themselves as men of intelligence and good breeding, worthy of another year. You have yet to do that. Follow the rules. They are outlined in the papers you have—I recommend memorizing them, as ‘not knowing the rules’ is not an excuse for breaking them. After supper, you have free time to use as you wish. I recommend you spend that time in the student lounge studying. The wall behind you, as I’m sure most of you have gathered, can be used to power various inventions, and this wall extends to the student lounge. However, I do not like to be awakened at three in the morning to fend off some large clockwork automaton that has gone mad, so be careful. The making of weapons is forbidden within these halls. Out in the real world, use your skills as you wish, but here, no weapons. Anyone violating this rule will be instantly expelled. I’m sure you’ve all heard rumors about experiments gone awry that still lurk in the lower basements of the college. They are all false, I assure you. That said, students are forbidden from going into any of the lower basements. They are mainly used for storage, but they are labyrinthine, and it is easy to get lost, and I don’t like having to take professors away from teaching to form search parties. Now, our honored guest, Countess Lovelace, would like to inspect all of you. She is a fine judge of character, and I hope you will listen to any advice she has.”


  Countess Lovelace rose and slowly descended from the platform to stand in front of the students. She was a small, pale woman with flashing dark eyes. She was sixty-seven, a widow, and dressed in deep navy, which seemed to bring out her careful, knowing smile. Her hair was pulled into a high bun on top of her head, and was almost entirely gray, but for a few streaks of black. She smelled faintly of brandy and smoke, and leaned heavily on a bronze and wood cane, peering at each of the new students in turn. “They look as though they’ll do,” she called over to the duke.

  “I’m glad you approve, madam.”

  She walked past the line of students and stopped in front of Violet, who could feel the woman’s breath on her. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor and tried not to look into Ada Byron’s dark, fiery gaze. “What’s your name?” Ada asked after a moment.

  “Ashton Adams, ma’am,” Violet answered, keeping her head down.

  “You may walk me to the dining room,” Ada said, offering an arm.

  Violet nodded. She could feel the other students’ jealous gazes on her. To be favored by the great Ada Byron, the first Reckoner, to be picked out by her, to touch her. Looking forward, but not at the countess herself, Violet took her by the arm and escorted her out of the room.

  Once in the hallway, Ada stopped and released her arm from Violet’s.

  “The dining hall is this way, I believe, madam,” Violet said, still not daring to look Ada in the eyes.

  “When you nodded to me back in the hall, you almost curtsied. You’ll have to work on that,” Ada said.

  Violet looked up into Ada’s mischievous eyes and tried not to let her shock and chagrin show. “Ma’am, I—”

  “Don’t treat me like an idiot, girl. Any fool can see you’re a woman. Luckily, this is a school full of geniuses, so I don’t think you’ll have too much trouble. Unless you keep curtsying. I’d improve your walk, and don’t look down all the time. And your voice sounds too deep, like a child pretending to be a man.”

  “Countess, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Of course you meant to. You’re here, and they all think you’re a man, and it’s really very clever, if you can pull it off. Now, take my arm again; the rest of them are coming.” Violet did so, as the huge bronze doors opened and the students walked out into the hall. Seeing Lady Byron, they all kept their faces somber and their voices low, parting around her like a stream and heading to the dining hall, while Ada and Violet ambled slowly along after them. Finally, the last of the students was in the dining hall, and Ada released Violet’s arm again.

  “Countess, I—”

  “I can’t help you, you realize. You’re on your own if you get caught. I’m around the school only a few times a year, and I can’t show you too much favor or it will draw more attention to you, and more attention isn’t what you need. So stop dressing like a dandy. It only highlights your femininity. Honestly, girl, who dressed you?”

  “My brother.”

  “Well, get the help of someone else. Is your roommate in on your little hoax?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good, it might be unseemly otherwise. Have him help you. But don’t let him abuse you. Some men might be prone to take advantage of this situation.”

  “I trust him.”

  “Good for you. Now, be a good boy, and take me to the dining hall.” Violet took the countess’s arm once more and led her, much more quickly now, to the dining hall. Violet opened the door for her; then the countess left her to sit to the right of the duke, while Violet found a seat next to Jack.

  “Already the favorite,” Jack whispered to her.

  “She recognized my gender,” Violet replied. Jack’s eyes widened. “She gave me advice.”

  “Well,” Jack said, “that’s something.”

  Ernest led the students in grace, and the meal was served: eggs, porridge, toast, kippers, tomatoes, various cheeses, bacon, and ham, which smelled heavenly to everyone. At the duke’s table, the duke leaned in to the countess and spoke softly. “What was that about, Ada? I’ve never seen you favor a student so blatantly.”

  “I’m growing old, Ernest, and I find myself enjoying the company of young men more and more.” The duke laughed at this. “Will there be cards after supper tonight?”

  “Of course, Countess. What is a day with you without gambling?”

  “And cigars,” the countess added, and smiled happily.

  The dining hall was larger than the Great Hall, which made it quite large for the fewer than thirty people eating. The professors and the duke ate on a raised platform at the end of the hall, but the students chose their own seats from among the small tables placed on the main level. There was a balcony with a twisting marble stairwell coming down from it on the side of the room from which they had entered. On the balcony was an archway, which Violet assumed led out to the bridge she had spotted stretching over the Great Hall.

  Jack took out the map from his sheaf of papers. “That archway, there,” he said to Violet, pointing to the balcony, “must lead to the bridge, which goes to the duke’s private apartments. That’s his personal entrance.”

  “I suppose so,” Violet said. She was staring at the other three men at their table, who were staring back, nervous. Jack looked up. He had apparently forgotten all about the other students he was sitting with, all first-years, like himself and Violet. No one spoke. They just ate, sometimes staring at one another. At the other tables, conversation hummed.

  “So,” Jack said, “I guess we’re all going to be in our classes together. I’m Jack Feste. This is Ashton Adams. Who are you lot?”

  The three young men stared back piggishly. The most handsome of them spoke first. “I’m Roger Fairfax, Earl of Cheshireford,” he said, proudly sticking his chin out in a way that no longer made him look the handsomest.

  Then the tallest extended his hand to Jack’s to shake it. “I’m James Lane,” he said.

  Finally, the shortest one eagerly stuck out his hand and introduced himself. “Humphrey Merriman,” he said with a faint Irish accent. They all shook hands and then settled into silence.

  Violet looked at the men across from her, and around the room, and was pleased to note that she didn’t feel any sort of romantic feeling for any of them, even the most attractive, and so wouldn’t be distracted by flowery emotions.

  Violet was luckier than the other students in this regard, for at that moment, Cecily Worthing, the duke’s cousin and ward, appeared in the archway at which Jack had just been pointing and began to descend the winding stairs to join her cousin at the table. The conversation hushed slightly as the students noticed her one by one and stared. The returning students, of course, had seen her before. Most went quickly back to their eating, not wanting to attract the duke’s wrath, though they all secretly wished to invite her to sit with them.

  Of course, as Cecily was the one young lady permitted to roam the halls of the college, it was only natural that the students would all find her attentions something to be sought after, as many young men enjoy the attentions of young women. However, even if Cecily were but one of hundreds of young ladies set free to roam the halls of Illyria as they pleased, she would still be the most sought after for companionship.

  She was charming. A little short, but with a comely figure, long golden hair, and clear fair skin that glowed in the bronze hallways. Her smile and laugh were the sort that would make everyone around her smile and laugh as well, not just because of the fine pink color of her lips, or her perfect set of teeth, but because when she was happy, she seemed like a fresh country breeze that has somehow snuck into the heavy coal-stained air of the city.

  Jack, who had not been prone to romance before this moment, fell immediately in love. He had known his share of women in school, the village girls who grinned openly and had an unrefined charm. And he had known Violet, of course, though she was more of a sister. Going through London, he had often seen the aristocratic ladies with their huge hats and slim waists, but he had never seen anything lik
e Cecily. She walked through the rows of tables like a swan floated on the river. She kissed the duke on the cheek with the lightness of a hummingbird, and swept her loose hair back behind her ear with a simple gesture, like a dove taking flight. In that moment, Jack knew that he could live and study for a thousand years and never be able to create anything as beautiful as her. “Who is that?” he asked.

  “That must be Cecily,” Violet said, eyeing the girl. She felt strangely jealous, probably because the girl had been raised here, whereas Violet had to hide herself to gain entry. “She is the duke’s cousin and ward.”

  “Oh,” Jack said, staring after her.

  “Don’t stare too hard, now,” said a large student who had come up from one of the other tables. “The duke is mighty protective of her, and he has views on how women are distracting to us student types.” The man placed his hand on his belly and chortled. He had brought with him another student, thin and terribly pale, who laughed as well. “I’m Toby, and this is Drew. We’re upperclassmen, so it’s our job to welcome you newlings and show you the ropes today. So, who are all of you?”

  No one spoke immediately. Violet studied Toby, who was scratching his stomach and looking unimpressed. Drew stood behind him, occasionally looking toward the duke’s table and then snapping his attention back to Toby. “Ashton Adams,” Violet said, extending her hand. “This is Jack Feste, James Lane, Roger Fairfax—”

  “Earl of Cheshireford,” Roger interrupted.

  “Yes. And Humphrey Merriman,” Violet finished.

  “Okay,” Toby said, “that’s a start, anyway. I saw you escorting the countess in, Adams. Never seen that happen before. Usually the duke brings her in.”

  “She asked me to escort her. She wanted to have a word with me about my wardrobe.”

  “You do look like a bit of a git,” Toby said.

  “My … sister dressed me. I normally don’t pay attention to clothes, but it was a special occasion, so—”

  “Ha!” Toby barked. “Can’t dress yourself.” He slapped Violet on the back. “I’m just joking with you, mate. I don’t know how to dress myself either. Let Mother buy all my suits. Well, it was a pleasure meeting all you fine first-years. I imagine I’ll be seeing more of you tonight. I wouldn’t sleep in your nightshirts tonight. You never know when you’ll be doing a lot of running.” Toby smirked and walked back to his table, Drew following.