by Lev AC Rosen
Finally, after supper, Ada and Cecily retired to the sitting room of the residence, while Ernest went to visit Professor Bunburry, and Miriam vanished for the evening, as she often did. Ada had the servants light a fire in the fireplace, poured herself a glass of brandy, and sat down in the large divan by the fire. Cecily sat in an overstuffed armchair next to her, the one that was so large that her feet didn’t touch the floor unless she leaned forward slightly.
“Now,” Ada said, lying back with a sigh, “what did you want to talk to me about?”
Despite having waited for many hours, Cecily found it difficult to form her question. “Have you ever been in love?” she finally asked. She knew, of course, that Ada had been married, but she also knew that Ada didn’t bear much fondness for her late husband.
Ada grinned slightly, took a sip of her brandy, and lit her cigar. “You don’t mind, do you?” Ada asked, holding up the cigar. Cecily shook her head. She was quite used to Ada’s cigars and, in fact, rather liked them by now. After a moment, Ada said, “Yes, I’ve been in love.”
“How do you know when you’re in love?”
Ada took another sip of brandy to cover her amused expression. “Well, I suppose it varies with each person. Do you think you’re in love?”
“I’m quite sure I’m in love. Or I was. Now I’m less sure.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Ashton Adams. He is a first-year student.”
Ada went pale, then red, then tried to hide a smile behind a cloud of smoke from her cigar. “I don’t think Ashton is the man for you, dear.”
“But I adore him!” Cecily said, feeling a bit annoyed at Ada’s condescending tone. “He’s gentle and sweet and talks to me like I’m an equal and not like I’m just a pretty girl for him to admire.”
“I’m sure he does all that,” Ada said. “But if you once thought you loved him, and now you’re not sure, I think you should realize that that means something.…” She waved her cigar, making lazy smoke circles in the air. “Think of it as a hypothesis, where, after testing the hypothesis, you find it didn’t hold up the way you originally thought.”
“But Ashton has never been anything but what I thought he was. His sister told me that he’s had some bad times, but—”
“You met his sister?” Ada asked.
“Yes. I wanted to meet her, so I convinced Ernest to go with me to their manor over Christmas, remember?”
“I thought you were just going for a drive.”
“To their manor. But Ashton was away.”
“And Ernest, he met the sister as well?”
“Yes. I think he was quite taken with her. They have been writing to each other.”
“Oh,” Ada said, taking a long drink of her brandy. “Well, that’s very nice.”
“I think I’m in love with Ashton. No, I know I’m in love with him. But I don’t think he’s very much in love with me.”
“Perhaps you’re in love with him only because he’s the first boy in this school who hasn’t fallen in love with you on sight.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Auntie,” Cecily said with a wave. “There have been plenty of men here who haven’t given me a second glance.”
“Inverts, probably.”
“Oh, I don’t think Ashton is an invert, if that’s what you mean,” Cecily said. “I just wish I knew how to capture his heart as he has captured mine.”
Ada sighed and sat up straighter. “I have often wished,” she began, as though making a speech, “that love had simple formulaic qualities, like science. A man and a woman of like mind and similar attractiveness could combine, and a chemical reaction would take place: love. But there are no formulae, no guarantees, no science involved.” Ada stopped and poured herself another glass of brandy. She seemed both happy and sad, as though the two emotions were playing tug-o’-war within her.
Cecily found it somewhat worrying, and not at all helpful. “So, I will never know if Ashton loves me?” she asked cautiously.
“Forget Ashton,” Ada said. “That’s the best advice I can give you. As for love … Well, you’ll know when you’re in love. But love comes and goes. You asked me if I’ve ever been in love, and I said yes. Many times, in fact. Most times, though, it faded. As you grow older, it becomes harder to fall in love, but it fades more slowly, too. Forget Ashton. Fall in love with someone else.”
“Oh,” Cecily said, feeling suddenly a bit sad, and perhaps a bit angry. “Who else?”
“I wish I could tell you,” Ada said. “There are plenty of handsome young men in this school who would treat you well. I’m sure, if you think about it, several of them already do.”
“Well, yes,” Cecily said, thinking of Jack, “but I don’t love them.”
“You’d be surprised,” Ada said. “But enough talk of love. Show me the wrench you made with that astonishing formula of yours.”
After Cecily had shown Ada her accomplishments and gone to bed, Ada stayed awake, drinking and smoking and worrying by the fire. The situation at Illyria had become more complex than she anticipated. Ada was usually fairly good at seeing all the possible results of a scenario—it came from working with the analytical engines. But she had not foreseen Cecily’s infatuation. Of course, she should have: they were kindred spirits, Cecily and Violet, girls of the same age. It was only natural that Cecily would identify that and—seeing Violet as a man, and being only sixteen—mistake it for love. If Cecily was correct in her assessment of Ernest’s feelings for Violet, that was … less unexpected. She had secretly been hoping for it, though she hadn’t really expected it to happen until after Violet’s secret was revealed. But Cecily was an unaccounted for variable, and the equation could come out very differently now. If Ernest and Violet did fall in love in the end, and Ernest could see the brilliance in Violet’s deception, then what would happen to dear Cecily? Ada did not want to see her family torn apart by the confusion of love.
But she had nearly finished the bottle of brandy. She pushed herself up from the divan, a little dizzy, crept out of the residence, and down to the reckoning laboratory. The great analytical engines rose around her, tall as houses. She found them soothing, and caressed the metal of their sides. Though drunk, Ada was still the First Reckoner, and it didn’t take her long to create a series of plates, all with possible factors, and run them through the machines. The machines couldn’t really help, of course—she had told Cecily the truth about that. But she found the sound of their internal calculations soothing, as though they told her that in the end, there was a great calculation, that the world was a functioning machine, and she was just a cog in it who couldn’t see the whole thing.
Each equation gave her a different answer, always in numerical form, which she would have to translate back into words. The engine spit out the answers to her three equations: Two. Five. Twenty-nine.
Sighing, Ada crumpled the thin papers the numbers were printed on and threw them into the fire.
XXIX.
VIOLET and her friends sat around a table at the Well-Seasoned Pig, drinking cheerfully. Violet settled back into her chair, feeling relaxed for the first time in a while. She was surrounded by friends, something she had never expected when she came up with her plan. But here she was, with Jack, Toby, Drew, Miriam, and even Fiona. She felt somehow warmer than she had before, and not from the fire or alcohol.
The past few weeks had not been so warm, as Violet had been too busy working. She was closer to completing her project than she expected to be at this point. She didn’t know why she spent all her time in the lab, working so furiously, so that her back ached and her eyes strained; why she spent her nights exploring the basement, or trying to figure out why the train wouldn’t run. She had lost some of the joy she had felt upon first coming to Illyria. The only time she felt truly at ease—even more so than she was here, with her friends—was when writing letters to the duke. It seemed that in that context she could be free, and truly herself, and have her ideas respected even though she was a woman. Sh
e would think over his ideas throughout the day while working, or now while drinking at the pub. And thoughts of his ideas often led to thoughts of him, of his eyes and lips, and made her feel like melted copper, bubbling liquid. She thought of him kissing her neck, and it made her sigh.
Fiona leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I know that look. If you need a particular device to help relieve certain urges, I can sell one to you.”
“What?” Violet asked, confused.
“Nothing,” Fiona said, shaking her head. Violet shrugged. She’d enjoyed having Fiona around lately. Socializing with another person who knew the truth was somehow a relief to her. Some nights, she thought of just telling Drew, Toby, and Miriam. She didn’t think they’d care a bit, but every time the urge came on, she bit her tongue. She just couldn’t be sure. Still, it would be nice. She hoped that when she finally revealed the truth, they would still be her friends. On nights like this, she didn’t want anything to change. She finished her ale and ordered another, and Jack clapped her on the back and smiled.
* * *
ADA finished her brandy at about the same time, and set the empty glass down on the card table in the professors’ lounge. Valentine refilled it for her. He had taken off his jacket and put it in the center of the table as part of his bet. Ada could tell he was hoping she might do likewise, but no amount of liquor was going to inspire that sort of behavior from her. Especially not in front of present company, which included Professor Prism, Ernest, and Cecily, who had insisted she be allowed to stay up to learn how to play poker, but was now curled up in an armchair, half-asleep.
Prism played with his glasses, and a blue lens fell over his left eye as he examined his cards. “You’re bluffing,” he told Valentine.
“What? Do your glasses let you see through the cards?” Valentine asked.
Prism scowled and laid his hand down. “Call,” he said.
Valentine was indeed bluffing, but it was Ada who won the hand. Ada always won the hand. She slipped Valentine’s jacket on over her gown. It fit surprisingly well, but then, Valentine did have a womanish figure. Valentine grinned and pushed some of his hair out of his face. Ada resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead she took the cards and put them in the reshuffling machine.
“Ada,” Ernest said, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of wine, “do you happen to know where my father might have put the blueprints to the cellar?”
Ada dealt as she answered. “I didn’t think the cellar needed blueprints,” she said.
“Oh, it’s a maze down there,” Prism said, looking at his cards. “I once needed some supplies and went down there to search. I was lost for what seemed like hours. It was a wonder I made it out at all.”
Cecily stirred in her chair and made a slight snoring noise. Ada and the gentlemen looked over at her and exchanged glances, all resisting the urge to snicker.
“Cecily,” Ada called softly. “Cecily?” she said, louder this time.
Cecily sat up in the chair. “An ace, a king, a queen, a jack, and a ten, all of the same suit,” Cecily said.
Ada stifled a chuckle. “Perhaps you ought to retire, dear,” Ada said. Cecily looked around and blinked, then slowly got to her feet and headed for the door.
“What I really need,” Ernest continued, looking at his cards and frowning, “is a map of the cellar. Because of problems such as the one Prism just mentioned. I’ve been through all of Father’s things, but I cannot find any such map. I don’t know how I’m expected to keep things running smoothly when I don’t even know where to find supplies.”
Ada noticed Cecily stop in the doorway, then turn back slowly, thinking. “Cecily?” Ada asked. The gentlemen turned to look at Cecily, who was standing nervously in the doorway.
“A map of the cellar?” Cecily said carefully.
“Yes,” said Ernest, looking surprised. “You haven’t found one, have you?”
“Well,” Cecily said, stepping back into the room, “no.” She looked at her feet.
“So, then why—?” Ernest began.
“You must promise no one will be punished,” Cecily said.
“Punished?” Ernest asked. “Did a student steal something from the residence?”
“Oh no!” Cecily said, stepping forward, “nothing like that. It’s just … I was sworn to secrecy. So if I am to trust you, you must promise no one will get into trouble.”
“I promise, then,” Ernest said.
“Ashton and Jack,” Cecily said, “and some other students. They’ve been exploring the basement. And mapping it. Ashton has a map. It’s not finished, though.”
“They’ve been mapping it?” Ernest asked, unbelieving. “When?”
“After hours,” Cecily said softly.
Prism chuckled. “Very enterprising of them, really.”
“No one will be in trouble, right?” Cecily asked.
“No,” Ernest said, “no one will be in trouble. Thank you, Cecily. And good night.”
“Good night,” Cecily said, and kissed Ernest on the cheek before exiting the room.
“There’s the answer to your problem, then,” Valentine said. “A map, all prepared. Ideal situation, really. If it hadn’t turned out this way, I would have suggested sending the students down there to map it anyway. Let them crawl through the dust.”
“Ah, yes. Heaven forbid your jacket get any dust on it,” Prism said. “Although, if I had as much hair as you, I think I’d be more concerned about the cobwebs.”
Valentine shuddered.
“Gentlemen,” Ada said, “dealer takes two.”
The men turned their attention back to the game. Ernest smiled to himself. A map, already drawn! Of course, it was only really useful if they had marked the train on it. And if they had, they’d better have refrained from riding it. Those secrets, Ernest knew, were for him alone. Of course, now he’d have to talk to Ashton in private, which he’d been avoiding. It would be worth the awkwardness, though. Things were coming together quite well.
Ernest won the game, and Ada won the next two. Valentine had lost his tie and shirt by then, which everyone knew was completely inappropriate, but they’d all had quite a bit to drink, and social niceties seemed a long way off. Ernest stumbled to bed after Ada had retired and Prism and Valentine had gone home. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
* * *
ADA’S lecture the next morning was as she said it would be: inspiring. She didn’t focus on any one topic, really, talking instead of her love of science. “Invention is Humanity’s Greatness,” she told the students, her own translation of the school’s motto, “and so is love. For invention is a sort of love. A love of the way things come together, of our ability to form wondrous new things. Two liquids that form a solid. Two pieces of metal that can move things ten times heavier than one piece could move alone. Don’t forget the love that goes into your work. Science without love is just pieces of metal, never bringing anything good to humanity. But invention with love is the best of us—our joy and our greatness—and we should not be afraid of greatness,” she finished. Though old, her voice had none of the tremble usually associated with the elderly. It was firm, and brought her conclusion down as solidly as a stone wall. Everyone applauded, and Ada looked pleased, bowing deeply while supporting herself on her cane.
By then, it was time for lunch, and everyone was hungry and filled with energy, so they tore through their meals before heading off to work on their individual projects.
Ada and Ernest sat alone in the dining hall with full bellies. “It really was a grand speech,” Ernest said.
“You’ve said that three times already,” Ada said. “But as I told you before, it was easy. No real content. Just some inspiration. Inspiration is easy enough, and important, though sometimes people forget it.”
“I’ve been very inspired lately,” Ernest said.
“Oh?” Ada said. “On your æthership?”
“Yes,” Ernest said. “I’ve been corresponding with another
scientist, and I’ve found her insight to be … stimulating.”
“Her?” Ada asked.
“Ah. Yes. Ashton Adams’s sister, in fact. A lovely young woman. Violet.”
“And is she as brilliant as her brother?”
“More so, I’d guess. Though I haven’t seen much of Ashton’s work. She’s very brilliant.”
“Pity she can’t be a student here,” Ada said.
“Yes,” Ernest said, nodding. “Though, truthfully, she would be too much of a distraction. She’s quite lovely of person, as well as of mind.” He looked off at the wall, his thoughts somewhere else. Ada raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t seem to care much for flowers, though,” he said, furrowing his brow. “What do I give a woman who doesn’t like flowers?”
“Give?” Ada asked.
“I … I looked at her brother’s file. They’re twins. Their birthday is the day before Easter. I thought I could send her a present, as a thanks for all the inspiration she’s given me.”
“That would be very generous of you,” Ada said carefully.
“But not flowers.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Ada said, standing. “I’m off to the reckoning lab,” she said. “Prism asked me to look over a new design of his.”
“Shall I escort you?” Ernest asked.
“Don’t be silly,” Ada said. “Besides, you’d best start work on that present if you want to finish it in time.”
“You think I should make her something?”
“Nothing captures a woman’s heart more than something well crafted.”
“Heart?” Ernest said. Ada chuckled and began walking across the dining hall, not looking back. Servants were cleaning up, walking to and fro, taking plates away, and mopping parts of the floor. Ernest ran to catch up with her. “We’ll walk together,” he said. “I need to go to the mechanical lab to speak to Mr. Adams about a map.” Ada took his arm.