by Lev AC Rosen
“Your bosoms are showing,” he said.
She stuck out her tongue at him, went into the water closet, and emerged a minute later in a nightgown, her face scrubbed, her hands cleaned. She stretched happily, then fell down onto her bed.
“Did you drink any water?” Jack asked her. “You should drink some water, or else you might feel worse in the morning.”
“We’re testing Toby’s hangover cure, remember?” she mumbled, and pulled the covers up over her. Jack smiled and went into the bathroom to wash up and get himself into bed.
* * *
IN the morning, Violet did feel worse. Much, much worse. Her head banged like a poorly built engine, and her stomach spun like gears moving too fast. She lay in bed, closing her eyes at the too-bright slivers of light that came in through the curtains, and flinching at the impossibly loud grinding of the gears of Illyria.
“Come on,” Jack said. “You have to wake up and change into costume before Toby shows up with his cure.”
“How can there possibly be a cure for this?” Violet asked, burying her head under the pillows.
“Something I’ve been asking myself for quite some time. But we agreed to try it out. Go get dressed.”
Violet had not yet moved, and was astounded by how rusted and sluggish her joints felt, how heavy her limbs, how weary her—
“You’ve been sitting there for ten minutes,” Jack said. “You do realize that, right?”
Violet dragged herself out of bed and to the water closet. Binding was particularly painful and difficult, feeling the way she did, and her head throbbed under the bright electric lights. She was still dressing when there was a knock on the door and Jack opened it.
“All right?” Toby’s voice came.
“Please tell me your cure works,” Violet called through the door.
“Oh, you didn’t drink that much,” Toby called back. Violet finished her disguise and opened the door. Toby was standing in a large white nightgown, Drew behind him, sloppily dressed and apparently asleep while standing. “I don’t understand you blokes who dress so quickly,” Toby said. He held four vials of yellow liquid.
“Ashton is very concerned with his toilette,” Jack said. “Gets up early every day to make it perfect.”
“That would explain why he’s always so clean-shaven,” Toby said. “I’m a bit envious—when I do remember to shave, it just grows back to stubble by noon.”
“Can I have your cure now?” Violet asked, extending her hand. Every part of her seemed to pulse in time, like being inside the second hand on a clock.
Toby smirked and handed out the four vials, nudging Drew awake. With trepidation they all downed the elixir and waited. Jack was the first to run to the toilet to vomit, then Violet, then Toby. Drew held out surprisingly long, possibly because he nodded off again after swallowing the brew, but a few moments later he, too, had purged himself. After the vomiting, they all felt tremendously better, though Violet wondered if that wasn’t solely by comparison to how they’d felt before.
“Lucky thing the college provides maids,” Jack said, smiling nervously.
“I’d better change,” Violet said.
“Us, too,” Toby said. “See you at the lecture in a few.”
Violet and Jack closed the door and sighed. Her body really did feel a bit better.
“Drink water,” Jack said. “That’s what will really help.”
Violet felt more herself after a few glasses of water, and after washing her mouth and face and changing into fresher clothes, she was eager to go to the lecture and hear the duke’s thoughts. To understand how a person thought about the world, she reasoned, was to understand the person. And she had a desire to understand the duke. He was, after all, heir to a scientific legacy, and probably a genius in his own right, if the rabbit Shakespeare was any example.
Violet and the other students all got to the Great Hall a few minutes before the lecture was to begin. The duke was already onstage, reading over some notes. The students all took their assigned seats, and the professors sat in the back—though, Violet noticed, both Bracknell and Curio were absent. Cecily and Miriam came in last of all, Cecily dressed all in gold and red, with Shakespeare trailing behind her on a gold leash. She walked toward the front of the assembly hall, Miriam shadowing her. She paused in front of Violet’s seat and smiled down at her. Jack, who was sitting next to Violet, stood, and Violet did likewise, remembering she was a gentleman.
“Ashton,” Cecily said, “how very nice to see you.”
“And you,” Violet said. “What a lovely dress.”
“Oh, thank you,” Cecily said. “As you can see, Shakespeare is still running smoothly.”
“I’m glad of it,” Violet said.
“Ashton told me that Shakespeare is a work of mechanical genius,” Jack said.
Cecily paused for a moment and looked at Jack. “Jack, was it? Are you and Ashton friends?”
“Since childhood,” Jack said. “I would enjoy it if I could see Shakespeare at some time, as well.”
Cecily’s eyes narrowed, and she regarded him more carefully. “Of course,” she said. “Perhaps if you stopped by the chemical lab at some point, I may show him to you.”
“It would be an honor,” Jack said, smiling.
“Well, I’d best take my seat. My cousin is glaring at me most obviously. Gentlemen.”
“Till later, Cecily,” Violet said.
“Miss Cecily,” Jack said, and she walked to the front of the auditorium and sat in a seat up front, cradling Shakespeare in her lap. “Oh, she is the most wonderful girl,” Jack whispered. “You must help her to love me.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Violet said, trying not to roll her eyes, “but let’s listen to the duke’s lecture, now.”
All faces turned expectantly toward the duke, who approached the podium and cleared his throat. He was dressed in a fine gray suit and wearing a green cravat, and his hair was oiled back and gleaming. He smiled at the crowd, and without realizing it, Violet smiled back.
“Travel through the æther, through space,” the duke began, “is something we have long quested after.” Violet shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The duke seemed to spot her, and nodded his head slightly. “The great æther of night remains unexplored, even if we have thoroughly investigated as much of our own terra firma as possible. Truly, the stars and planets beyond our own are the next realms for our scientists and explorers. But how shall we get there? It will not be as hard as you think—the principles are already established.”
Violet sank lower into her chair. What the duke was saying sounded very similar to the essay she had written for her application.
“Time and funding are needed, to be sure, but if we examine some of the science of mechanical engineering, we shall find that travel to the stars is firmly in our grasp. Of course, we will also need to take from other scientific realms: Chemistry is close to, but has not yet been successful at, creating a fuel capable of sustaining…”
Violet could listen no longer. He was using her essay, her ideas, her theories on space travel. And passing them off as his own. How dare he! She crossed her arms and slumped lower in her seat, determined not to listen. He was prattling on about combustion, which was ridiculous, as she had said in her paper that it wasn’t required for propulsion. But then, he was probably saying that, too. Violet willed herself not to listen, and found it surprisingly easy. Perhaps it was the hangover, or the hangover cure, but the grinding of the wall of gears seemed louder the more she focused on it, until it was positively overwhelming.
If she ever spoke to the duke again, she would slap him right across the face for the scoundrel he was, though she supposed that would probably get her expelled, and probably wasn’t a very manly approach to the situation. She wondered how long the duke could talk. She glanced up at him. He was gesticulating wildly while describing the way one would need to determine the exact trajectory of a ship bound for the moon. He must be near the end, then; she had closed on that note in her
essay, saying it was more the astronomer’s job than the mechanic’s. She wondered if plagarizing others was the duke’s usual practice, and if that was why he had published so little. Probably even Shakespeare the rabbit was designed by someone else, perhaps his father. It was sad to see how far the apple had fallen from the tree. People were standing now, and applauding. Violet did not. Jack gave her a questioning look, but she held her tongue. They would discuss it later.
The students and professors filed out of the Great Hall and headed to the dining hall for lunch. Violet was amazed that the duke could take her paper, which was really not very long, and extend it into a two-hour lecture. He must have made her simple, precise language much more florid and grand. How ridiculous of him.
“What are you pouting about?” Jack asked, sitting down at the table next to her. She still had her arms crossed, and was not in the mood to eat.
“It was my paper, Jack! I wrote that for my entrance exam, all about space travel and what might be possible, and he copied every word I said.”
“He did?” Jack asked, surprised. His eyes narrowed in disgust.
“Yes,” Violet said, “and I will never respect him again.”
“Whom will he never respect?” Toby asked, sitting down.
“The duke. He didn’t like the lecture,” Jack said. While he didn’t doubt Violet, and his opinion of the duke had suddenly dropped, he didn’t want himself or Violet to land in trouble for making accusations.
“He didn’t?” Drew asked, also sitting down. “I thought it was bloody brilliant.”
“It was,” Violet said, as she rose from the table and marched out of the dining hall.
Jack looked after Violet. She was angry, and had the right to be. He would go talk to her later, when she had cooled down.
“I thought he was especially spot-on when he started talking about the need for safe combustion, and his ideas on how to create a formula for a fuel that would create it,” Drew continued. “Made me want to give up the whole perfuming business and go to the moon.” He smiled whimsically at them. “I won’t, of course. The moon is probably terrifying. Moon people would eat me.”
“Aye,” Toby said. “They would.”
Jack grinned at them, and started wondering how much of the lecture Violet had actually heard. He hadn’t read her paper, but some of the ideas that the duke had mentioned seemed as though she could have come up with them. Other parts of the lecture, though, seemed not quite in her realm. Violet was not excellently versed in chemical combustion theory, and Jack thought she had even spoken against the need for combustion for space travel. He wasn’t sure. Perhaps she was still feeling the effects of the drinking last night, or the cure this morning. Or maybe she just missed her brother.
Lunch passed quickly for the three of them, as Toby played on Drew’s fear of moon people, while Jack fantasized about what he would say when he went to visit Cecily later that day. And soon enough, Jack found himself in the biology lab, staring down at Dorian, who still couldn’t make much more noise than a musical gurgle. But he seemed happy, so Jack left him alone, told Valentine he needed supplies, and wandered over to the chemical lab, hands in his pockets, nervous.
Cecily was working behind one of the counters, wearing a smock over her dress and large goggles over her eyes. Her hair was tied up and back, and she was bent quite carefully over a beaker of white liquid, holding a dropper over it. Jack waved at Drew and Toby, who threw him questioning looks until he walked up to the table across from Cecily. They grinned and went back to their projects. Jack watched as Cecily worked, waiting for a time to speak.
“You need to move to the side,” she said without looking up. “You’re blocking my light, and I need to be sure of how many drops I put in.” Jack stepped to one side silently. Cecily let three more drops fall into the beaker, then looked up and pushed her goggles to the top of her head, revealing her lovely, sparkling eyes. “Jack,” she said, sounding a little surprised.
“Ah, yes. I stopped by to see Shakespeare. You invited me.”
“Yes, I remember. Jack. Who is such an old friend of Ashton’s. Well, I need to let this formula sit for a few minutes, anyway.” She walked across the room to where Miriam was sitting and talking quietly with Professor Curio and idly stroking Shakespeare’s ears.
“Miri,” Cecily said, “this is Jack. He wanted to take a look at Shakespeare.”
“Is that all?” Miriam asked, holding out Shakespeare. Cecily took the rabbit and gently handed him to Jack.
Jack was impressed. The way it moved, even when not active, was impressive, almost lifelike. The fur molded out of brass and gold, the beautifully rendered face; it was hard to believe it wasn’t actually a rabbit.
“Extraordinary workmanship,” Jack said. “I’ve seen many rabbits, and I don’t think I would know this one wasn’t real if it weren’t cold to the touch.”
“I love rabbits,” Cecily said. “I used to hunt for them as a little girl when we went out to the country, and I once freed all the test rabbits from the biology lab. After that, Cousin Ernest made me Shakespeare. He is the king of rabbits.”
“I can tell,” Jack said, pleased.
“Now that I have shown you Shakespeare, will you do me a favor, Jack?”
“Anything,” Jack said.
Cecily took his arm—Jack felt her touch like a chemical reaction in his blood—and guided him away from Miriam to a quiet corner. “Then tell me,” she said, “about Ashton. Is there a girl whom he is courting?”
Jack grinned. “No,” he said.
“And how, do you think, would be the best way for one such as myself to attract his attentions?” Jack laughed. “What is so funny?” Cecily demanded, suddenly red in the face. “Am I so below him? I have rank, too. I shall inherit Illyria if Ernest has no heirs.”
“No. It’s not that, dear Cecily, please do not misunderstand me. With or without your rank, any man with eyes would do all they could to win your heart. But I fear that Ashton may be … blind to your advances.”
“I should throw myself at him, then? Like a hussy?”
“No, not that either. I think perhaps you should forget about Ashton. He will be a good friend to you, I have no doubt, but his heart belongs to … science.”
“You are just trying to drive us apart because you think you fancy me,” Cecily said, turning a lovely shade of pink. “You, just like all the others, who haven’t even bothered to speak to me as though I were anything other than a simple woman made to be stared at and appreciated for her hair and eyes and nothing else. Ashton talks to me of science. When have you ever done that, or asked my opinion on some scientific theory?”
“I don’t need to ask you any of that,” Jack said. “I can see that you are perfect, inside and out.”
Cecily said nothing in response to that, but stared at Jack wide eyed for a moment, before her eyes re-formed themselves into a glare. “Give me my rabbit,” she said, grabbing Shakespeare from him. “If you were a true friend to Ashton, you wouldn’t try to come between us. Good day, Mr.…”
“Feste.”
“Mr. Feste. Good day.” Cecily stomped back over to her counter and examined her beaker.
Jack sighed and left the lab, everyone now staring at him. Oh, what rotten luck for him, he thought, and kicked the wall in the hallway. To have the one he loved be in love with his best friend. Surely Cupid was laughing right now at the strange sapphic spell he had cast on Cecily. But no matter. Jack was quick to think, and he already had a plan. Jack assumed that after the woman Cecily wanted as a lover revealed her true identity, she and Cecily would still be friends. Surely if that were the case, then someone who was her friend now could later be her lover. So he would be her friend. Though, judging from the way she had just left him, that might be difficult. Jack kicked the wall again and went back to the biology lab. He sat down, chin in his hand, and looked at Dorian, who was asleep.
How best to be a friend to Cecily, and then to win her heart? Jack pondered this as
he stared at Dorian, and then smiled. He was slowly developing an idea for the Science Faire that could prove his affections to Cecily, as well. It would take time, of course, and plenty of experimentation, but it was manageable, if he was clever. The love that bounded through his heart as freely as a wild winged ferret would provide the rest.
* * *
NOTHING bounded in Violet’s heart. She had worked aggressively all afternoon, pounding out her frustration on sheets of hot metal, hammering a large piece of bronze that was to be the outer shell of her mechanical woman. She was amazed at the duke’s audacity. When she was a woman, he wouldn’t deign to speak about science with her, and when she was a man, he stole her ideas for his own. She should just find him now and tell him everything, how the woman he thought unworthy of serious discussion was the one he was now plagiarizing. She hammered even more forcefully, and Bunburry turned and looked at her, his brow furrowed. She nodded politely and tried to bang softer. She would save the harder banging for the duke.
The machine was coming along nicely. Many gears and mechanisms were already in place, and the individual parts she had tested seemed to work. Of course, she would need to make some sort of control panel, from which they could all be operated. And then there was the matter of finishing several pieces and putting it all together. There was a lot of work left to do. She spent most of the day with a hammer in her hand, focusing on little else but the way it bent and smoothed the metal into the curves that she demanded of it. Metal was simple: heat it, pound it, it becomes what you want. Violet sometimes felt it was a pity the same principles couldn’t be applied to people.
* * *
VIOLET worked until supper and then ate silently with her friends, who stared at her as if she frightened them. Toby had had plans alone with Miriam for after that, and Violet didn’t want to go out anyway, so she went back down to the mechanical lab while Drew and Jack had gone to the biology lab and played with Dorian.
“You’re in a rather foul mood,” Jack said as they readied themselves for bed.
“I know,” Violet said, climbing into bed and turning down the lamp so that the room was dark.