With Ida’s help, she changed her dress to something prettier and more delicate. Ida clicked her tongue and did her best to neaten the mess that was Victoria’s hair, now frizzy from the humidity outside. Victoria chose a light blue day dress, hoping that the color would remind Dmitri of the sash she’d worn at her coming-out ball.
When all was prepared, she stopped before the door and asked Ida, “How do I look?”
“Like an angel, dearie.”
She kissed Ida on the cheek, and compared to the false skin she’d see in her father’s workshop, the automaton felt rubbery and artificial. She had never been so deeply aware of her best friend’s unreality before. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked them away with a forced smile.
“Wish me luck.”
Lady Anne’s voice came from the outside of her room. “Lady Victoria, you have a gentleman caller in the parlor.”
She called back, “Who is it?”
“Mr. Orpov.”
If disapproval could speak, if would have Lady Anne’s voice. Victoria smoothed her skirt. “Coming, Auntie.” She turned back to Ida. “Come with me, please.”
The two of them stepped out into the hall, and Lady Anne stared down her nose at Ida. “And what, pray tell, is your… construct… doing?”
“Mr. Orpov wanted to meet her.”
Lady Anne sniffed. “I can’t imagine why.”
“He shares my father’s interest in clockwork,” she explained demurely.
“Hmm. Indeed.” She folded her hands in front of her waist again, something she did every time she was about to launch into a lecture. Victoria braced herself. “You were overheard telling Mr. Orpov about your mother’s death.”
“Indeed? The walls have ears,” she said before she could stop herself.
Lady Anne arched an eyebrow and continued. “We do not burden outsiders with our sorrows, especially if those outsiders are men. We do not share our family woes with anyone outside the family. Is that clear?”
She stifled a sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And further, you speak about yourself too much. You are a woman - not even a woman, still only a girl - and there is nothing you can say which would be of interest to any man. You are to listen attentively as he speaks, but do not interrupt. Do not interject. Do not speak until spoken to. Am I understood?”
Victoria’s back stiffened. “I’m not a child, Lady Anne.”
“That, my dear, is a matter of opinion.” She raked an irritated gaze over Ida. “Very well, if you must bring your toy… Come along.”
Lady Anne led them down the stairs and into the parlor. As soon as they entered, Dmitri stood and bowed to them, his manner redolent of the Court of St. Petersburg. “Lady Anne,” he greeted. “Lady Victoria. I’m so grateful that you agreed to see me.”
“Mr. Orpov,” Lady Anne said stiffly. She sat in a wingback chair near the tea table, clearly intending to stay.
“Ida can be my chaperone, Auntie,” Victoria said softly.
“You require a living chaperone, my dear. I’ll not hear anything to the contrary.”
Victoria sighed and abandoned all hope of a proper conversation. She sat on a straight-backed chair that had been put opposite the sofa. Ida stood behind her, but Dmitri said, “Won’t you sit?”
Lady Anne informed him, “It is an automaton. It does not need to sit.”
“Ah. I see.” Once the ladies were settled, Dmitri sat and smiled. “I must apologize for my beastly behavior. After accepting your charming invitation to tea, I left the ball without so much as a farewell. You must think me horribly rude.”
Lady Anne signaled to the maid, who poured the tea and began serving watercress sandwiches, the crusts neatly trimmed away. The dowager commented, “It was… unusual.”
“I saw that you looked at your dragonfly just before you left, and that it was moving,” Victoria said. “Was your departure related to that?”
Her aunt clicked her tongue softly, twice, in the subtle signal to be quiet. Victoria accepted her cup from the maid.
“In fact, it did,” Dmitri answered, looking embarrassed. “I had told you that I am recovering from an injury. The dragonfly announces when the time has come for my next treatment.”
Lady Anne arched an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, Mr. Orpov. I had no idea that you are an invalid.”
“Only temporarily, I assure you. My physician assured me that I’ll be fully fit in no time.”
“What treatments do you require, if they are so strictly scheduled?” Victoria asked. Lady Anne looked horrified, and she added, “If I may be so bold…”
Dmitri smiled. “Honestly, I have no idea what the treatment entails. I know that it must be painful, because my physician anesthetizes me before each round. It involves electricity. More than that, I cannot say.” He stirred his tea and put his spoon on his saucer. “I was out hunting in Tsarskoe Selo with my cousin, Nikolai Alexandrovich, and my horse stumbled after a jump. The poor beast broke its leg and had to be put down. I was thrown from the saddle and struck my head against a stone. When I awoke, I was in a hospital in Berlin.”
“That sounds dreadful,” Victoria said sympathetically. “The electricity must have to do with reordering your brain.”
“Indeed. That is my assumption.”
Lady Anne’s horror continued. “Lady Victoria, this is… Mr. Orpov, I apologize for my niece’s inelegance and excessive curiosity.”
Dmitri smiled. “Not at all. It’s quite understandable. And if there’s any rudeness, it’s only what I deserve, given my earlier behavior.” He sipped his tea. “But I assure you, I am unoffended. I find the intellectual display rather charming.”
Victoria hid her smile behind her cup, watching Lady Anne struggling with her outrage. The old woman bit into her sandwich to give her mouth something to do besides gape, and Victoria asked, “So, do you share my father’s interest in clockwork?”
“I do, in fact. And I’m so very glad to have the opportunity to see some of his work in person. This trip from Russia has been wonderful for many reasons… not just the clockwork.”
Victoria blushed, and Dmitri smiled. “I’m pleased that you’re enjoying your visit to England,” she said finally.
“Oh, I do. Lovely country.”
“Out of curiosity… and please pardon me again… but your cousin wouldn’t happen to be the Tsarevich, would he?” Victoria asked.
Finally, Lady Anne looked interested. Dmitri nodded. “Yes, indeed. He is my mother’s cousin, to be quite honest, so we are not close blood, but she was a Romanov and a princess.”
Her aunt put a hand against her chest. “Oh, my. I had no idea that you were royalty, sir.”
Victoria wanted to roll her eyes. Of course Lady Anne had known that Dmitri’s uncle was a prince, and that the Orpovs were of the Russian royal line. The dissembling was off-putting.
Dmitri smiled at Lady Anne. “Truly? I thought you were acquainted with my uncle, Prince Oleg.”
“I…” she began but fell silent.
The young Russian turned back to Victoria. “Would you like to see the dragonfly?”
“May I?”
He pulled the watch case out of his pocket and undid the chain from his vest. He handed it to her, flipping it open as he did. Victoria looked at the delicate creation inside, marveling at the tiny pieces and the masterful construction. It sat inert but sparkling.
“May I touch it?”
Dmitri nodded, and she extended one finger to stroke along the dragonfly’s jointed metal body. It felt warm to the touch, probably from being carried in the young man’s pocket. She held it up to her ear and heard the faintest sound of the clockwork humming along.
“It’s exquisite.”
“Thank you. My uncle had it made by the House of Faberge. It’s quite beautiful, I think, and stunningly accurate.”
She handed it back to him, and he reattached it to his vest, taking a reflexive check of the insect’s wings. When he saw that they were still, he put the wa
tch case back into his pocket.
“Ida is also made of clockwork, and she’s been with me since I was a child. She is my father’s creation, entirely designed and made by him.”
“Fascinating. Ida, may I approach you?”
The automaton mimicked Lady Anne’s hand-to-chest gesture. “Oh! Of course, sir.”
He rose and walked to where the construct stood. “Remarkable. You look almost human.”
“Thank you, sir.” She smiled.
“Were you given scripts of how to respond when you’re spoken to?”
Ida shook her head. “No, sir. I simply respond. Something to do with the machinery in my head. I’m not too bright, sir, and can’t explain what my maker did. I only know that… here I am.”
He tilted his head and looked into her eyes. “Do you consider yourself alive?”
“I am an automaton.”
“Yes, I know. But do you consider yourself alive? Truly alive?”
Ida glanced at Victoria, who nodded to her, and to Lady Anne, who pursed her lips. Ida said, “Yes, sir.”
Dmitri smiled. “That’s wonderful. And do you have emotions?”
Ida blinked. “I… I am an automaton.”
He nodded. “Yes, I know. But do you have emotions?”
She blinked again. “I am an automaton.”
“So that question is one that you’re not prepared to answer, either personally or as a result of the machine in your head.”
Her eyes swiveled toward Victoria. “Yes, sir.”
“I see. Pardon me for badgering you. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
Lady Anne sipped her tea. “You’ve no need to apologize to a machine, Mr. Orpov. It may consider itself alive, but…”
“If she considers herself alive, then she is alive, and I will accord her with the courtesy that every living person is entitled to, be they serf, Irish maid or automaton.”
Victoria felt excited by his words, and she cleared her throat, trying to conceal it. She looked away. “More tea, Mr. Orpov?”
“Thank you. And thank you, Ida.” He turned to the maid who was still standing nearby. “And that you, Betty.”
The maid tried to hide her smile, but she was unable to conceal it. “You’re welcome, sir.”
Lady Anne shot the Irish girl a hard look, and Betty looked down. Victoria said, “Yes, thank you.” She turned to Dmitri. “Miss Doyle - that’s her proper name, you see - Miss Doyle has been with us all season, and I believe she was employed here before that, as well.”
“She’s a fine maid, to be sure,” Dmitri praised.
“She is adequate,” Lady Anne sniffed.
Dmitri quirked his eyebrows and looked down into his cup as Victoria poured more tea. “I wonder, Lady Victoria, if you would care to go riding with me?”
“I should think you’d be afraid to go riding, considering your accident,” she said, surprised.
“Well, as they say, you need to get back into the saddle, and I wouldn’t be much of a man if I couldn’t ride. I’ve no physical reason not to do so.” He took a sip, then put his cup aside. “My physician would accompany us as chaperone, of course.”
“Auntie?” Victoria said. “May I?”
She considered the request, and her eyes bored appraising holes in Dmitri’s chest, no doubt sniffing out and weighing exactly how much royal Russian blood was coursing in his veins. “Yes,” she finally said. “You may.”
“Excellent. Tomorrow, then? Say, two o’clock?”
He stood, and Victoria rose as well. “I would be delighted.”
She offered her hand to him, and he kissed it gently. “Not half so much as I.” The valet helped him on with his coat, and he put his hat upon his head. “Thank you ever so much for the hospitality, and for your forgiveness. Good day.”
Victoria walked him to the parlor door, and she would have gone further if Lady Anne would have allowed it. He had lovely wide shoulders, she decided, and a strong walk. Whatever else he was, Dmitri Orpov was no invalid.
At the appointed time, Dmitri rode to the house and met her at the stable, riding a spirited black steed. She had made certain to dress in her smartest riding outfit, including a top hat with a veil that she could put over her face in case they encountered gnats or other insects. He smiled when he saw her.
“If I may be so bold, Lady Victoria, you are a vision.”
She blushed. “Thank you.”
He did not come alone. Beside him, mounted on a scrubby-looking brown horse that was far below the quality of Dmitri’s animal, and beneath the quality of her own, was the bald-headed German man from her father’s workshop. The groom helped her mount up, and she settled into the correct side-saddle posture, her riding crop in hand.
“Shall we?” she smiled.
“Before we do, please allow me to present Dr. Klein, the anatomist who is restoring my brain to working order, as you so intelligently surmised.” Dmitri turned his handsome smile to the doctor. “Dr. Klein, Lady Victoria Almeston.”
“A great pleasure, my lady,” the doctor said, bowing from horseback. “I do hope you don’t object to my presence.”
“Not at all,” she lied. “After all, Mr. Orpov is under your care, and it’s only appropriate that we should have a chaperone.”
The groom led them to the gate, which opened up onto pastureland that gave way to forested tracts where there were frequent hunts. She gestured toward the trees.
“I know that you came to grief while hunting, Mr. Orpov, but there are foxes in those woods if you care to take a ride someday. I fear I haven’t the heart for such things, and we have no dogs, but you may find it diverting.”
Dr. Klein answered for him. “Mr. Orpov does not hunt anymore.” He looked at Dmitri with a clinical eye. “He is fortunate that he can ride at all.”
“The fact that I can is a testament to your skills, doctor,” the Russian man smiled. “Come, the day is beautiful and sunny. Let’s enjoy it, shall we?”
They rode in the sun-dappled meadow, enjoying the fine afternoon. Their horses were in fine fettle, and they carried their riders swiftly over the ground. Dmitri sat his mount with ease, and his posture and carriage told Victoria that he was an extremely accomplished horseman. How strange then, she thought, that a rider such as he should have suffered the accident he’d had.
They stopped at a stream in the wood to allow the horses to drink, and they dismounted to give the animals a bit of rest. Dmitri had a blanket rolled up behind his saddle, and he put it on the ground so that Victoria would have somewhere to sit. She knelt and sat as gracefully as she could, and Dr. Klein produced a basket of apples, bread and cheese. She accepted the fruit but waved the rest away, and Dmitri refused it all. Dr. Klein shrugged and tucked in, happy to be left with the lion’s share.
Victoria watched the two men and the horses for a moment, then asked, “Forgive my ignorance, Herr Doctor, but it was my impression that an anatomist wasn’t quite the same as a physician. How did you come to be the one to treat Mr. Orpov’s injury?”
“There are limitations to the practice of medicine in most people’s minds,” Dr. Klein told her. “Especially in Mr. Orpov’s native Russia. Most doctors would have left him for dead, but I knew that as long as the brain could survive, the man could, as well. And I knew how to make that happen. Sometimes physicians are stymied by the need to cure everything from ingrown toenails to the common cold. It allows those of us who are more given to theoreticals to see options that they might miss.”
Dmitri took out his watch and checked the dragonfly. The little clockwork monster stayed still, and he tucked it away again. “I owe Dr. Klein my life,” he told her. “And I owe your father and my uncle, too. Together, they found a way to create the apparatus that Dr. Klein uses for my treatment.”’
The doctor looked askance at the young Russian. Victoria, impressed, exclaimed, “Oh! Indeed? I had no idea my father was involved in such a thing. I must say, I’m very proud.”
“You should be, young lady,�
�� Dr. Klein told her. “Your father is a mind of the foremost caliber and a rare gem upon this earth.”
Dmitri smiled at her, his dark eyes glittering. “Rare gems must run in your family.”
She blushed.
Dr. Klein saved her from the necessity of an awkward response when he stood and tossed his apple core aside. He wiped his hands upon his trousers and said, “Let’s ride back. We don’t want to keep this lovely lady out too long, do we?”
Dmitri knelt and held his hands for her to step upon, boosting her back into the saddle. She smiled down at him when he straightened. “Thank you, Mr. Orpov.”
“Believe me, Lady Victoria, it was my pleasure.” He looked at his hands, slightly besmirched by soil from the pasture. “I would gladly dirty my hands for you a hundred times.”
She pulled a handkerchief from the waistband of her skirt and wiped the soil away. “And I would happily wash those same hands clean.”
Their eyes met, and she felt a deep stirring inside her heart. She knew without a doubt that she was gazing upon the man she wished to marry. Victoria could only pray that Dmitri had the same dream in mind.
Dr. Klein cleared his throat. “It looks like rain,” he said, though the sky was clear. “Let’s go back.”
Victoria reasoned that the doctor was concerned for his patient more than for herself, and she would do nothing to cause Dmitri distress. She watched as the Russian rolled up their picnic blanket and secured it once again behind his saddle. He mounted with all the smoothness of a dancer, and she was so struck by his masculinity and filled with such thoughts that her face burned in embarrassment. If he had read her mind, she would have been deeply ashamed. Luckily, she could keep her thoughts to herself.
They rode back toward the house, taking less chances and using less speed than on the ride out to the wood. A few times, Dmitri consulted his watch, and she reasoned that he must be feeling weary, although he was manfully trying not to display his fatigue. When they reached the gate to the stable yard, he checked the watch again, and this time the dragonfly’s wings were flapping rapidly.
“Oh, dear,” Dr. Klein said. “Not much time at all. Let’s make haste.”
Of Steel and Steam Page 59