He blinked at me, perhaps surprised by my forthrightness, but he’d drunk enough not to mind. ‘There’s no need for a theory, miss. It is just weather. Some men think that any unusual event in the short span of their own lifetime must be unique.’ He went to take a sip from his glass, tilting it quite far before realizing that it was already empty. ‘And the notion that an event in the South Pacific could affect us here is quite absurd. People confined to these islands have no proper sense of the extent of the globe. When you travel as much as I, you understand that its size is beyond imagination.’
‘On a clear day one can see Snowdonia from Howth Head,’ I said. ‘That’s eighty miles. Ten times that is eight hundred, and ten times that is a third of the world’s circumference. It is not so hard to imagine.’
He frowned, as if checking the arithmetic in his head.
A voice came from over my shoulder. ‘It is often said that the imagination can encircle the world.’ I turned to see Professor Reeves sitting in the chair that the woman had vacated, a crystal flute of water in his hand. ‘You have provided a pleasing proof of that, Miss Lawless.’
‘Professor,’ I said. ‘Mr Caulfeild wasn’t sure that you could come.’
‘Oh, for an event like this, I thought I should make the effort. The supper in Charlemont House is always excellent, even if the conversation can be less dependable.’
Mr Graves was squinting at Reeves, and seemed ready to make some comment, but his companion leaned towards him and whispered in his ear. They both regarded the professor with dark expressions, and then moved to another part of the room.
‘Since my last engagement,’ Reeves said, ‘I have finally achieved some public recognition. My notoriety never leaves me in want of a seat. I never had a chance to apologize to you and your father for the scene at the Academy.’
‘Really, there is no need.’
‘I have not seen Mr Lawless this evening.’
‘No, he could not come.’
‘He remained at home?’ Reeves said, his eyes drifting towards the drawing-room windows.
‘He avoids these occasions, especially since my mother died.’
The set that included Edith and Darby swept close by, and they drew the professor’s attention for a moment. I remembered Reeves say at the Academy that he studied the Bible as a child, and I asked if he grew up in a religious household.
‘Oh, yes,’ he said, almost wearily. ‘You see, I was rather sickly as a boy, confined to my room for weeks on end. Unfortunately, my father, a dull and unimaginative man, believed that my ailments had been sent by God in chastisement for some fault. Every day I was commanded to recite the Bible. He would kneel by my bedside with members of his church, cut from the same cloth as the Brethren, and they prayed each night with such vehemence, stretching their hands above me in the candlelight.’
He took a sip of water, and paused for a second to study the shifting spectra on the crystal.
‘God was inattentive to their prayers,’ he said, or perhaps wearied by them. I wished only to be good and holy and well, but there was never a moment in which my heart responded to their words. It was my failing, and I was sure that I suffered because of it.’
‘What of your mother?’
He looked at me for a moment. ‘Mother brought comfort. Whenever they left the house, she would take the Bible from my hands, rub my forehead and hum a melody. Perhaps I only imagine it now, but in those moments my cough lessened, the aches in my joints disappeared, and only returned at the sound of Father’s heavy footsteps clomping on the wooden stairs.’
The music slowed in tempo for a portion of the dance where the men stood still as their partners twirled about them. Edith did so gracefully, and Mr Darby followed her movements intently. People standing at the side of the room were watching the dancers, but some cast glances to where I sat with Reeves, whispering comments to each other, and I found that I was pleased to be spotted beside him.
‘You overcame your illness.’
‘Yes. Mother found a new physician in town, whose tonics proved to be far more effective. I was relieved of course, but it was a testing time as well.’
‘How so?’
‘It is a difficult thing to discover that one’s father is fallible.’
I glanced at him, for I had come to learn that as well, but I remained silent.
‘Once I began to question him, I found that I could not stop. The sermons at his church, or his favourite verses of scripture. I could not fathom why they were considered wholesome or desirable. They had left his spirit mean in every sense. When I was well enough, I left the house for boarding school, and my love for natural philosophy was awakened, much to Father’s anger. Every time I saw him he would denounce my ungodly interests, and describe with relish the torments that awaited me. It was a relief when I departed for Dublin, for we never had to speak again.’
The last bars of the dance began to play, and Edith and Darby linked their hands once more. They bowed to each other as everyone dispersed to different parts of the room.
Reeves shifted in his seat and placed his empty glass on a side table. ‘Forgive me, Miss Lawless, for dwelling on such unpleasant topics.’
I said there was no need. I only felt sorry for the sadness in his upbringing, and pleased that he was able to confide. The gong came for supper, and I wondered if Reeves was accompanied by anyone.
‘I am going to sit with my friend for supper if you would care to join us.’
‘That is kind of you, but I have promised to dine with Mr Caulfeild at the head table. Perhaps I shall see you at the next gathering in the observatory, Miss Lawless.’
‘Father and I look forward to it.’
He rose and bowed and took his leave. In the dining room, I was glad of the chance to sit beside Clarissa once more. She was accompanied by her most recent partner, a pleasant if dreary young man called Mr Meredith, who was a fellow at Trinity College. He spoke at length with Clarissa, not at all put off by the veiled sarcasm of her responses. Just before the supper began, Ewan arrived at our table and asked if he could sit next to me.
I said that he could do as he wished, and reached for a soup spoon.
Ewan pulled his chair in. He picked up a napkin shaped like a swan, and dismembered it. ‘Have you had a pleasant evening?’
‘Somewhat pleasant.’
‘I’m glad.’
We sat in silence for a while as the last guests took their seats. Professor Reeves made his way towards the hosts, his progress slowed by the throng of the crowd. He happened to walk alongside Mrs Nesham for a moment, but they didn’t acknowledge each other, and soon parted as they headed to their respective tables.
I said, ‘Did you ever attend balls in Edinburgh?’
‘Of course.’
‘You just never danced at them.’
He looked at me, and was about to reply, but a servant took my bowl to ladle in some soup.
‘I thought it inappropriate to ask.’
‘Because you work with my father?’
He said it was more than that.
‘What then?’
‘Your father requested that I come in his stead. How else do you think I was invited?’
‘So you are here to keep an eye on me.’
‘He was just concerned.’
At the head table, Lady Charlemont was leaning towards Professor Reeves, speaking in his ear while waving her hands about in expansive gestures. The anecdote must have come to an end, for he closed his eyes and laughed in appreciation. She picked up her knife and fork to resume her meal, pleased with herself. There was no sign of James Caulfeild at the table.
Ewan said, ‘I am sorry. I left because I thought every other gentleman would think you were engaged. It was clumsy of me.’
He concentrated on spreading some soft butter on a piece of bread. Beneath my glove, I could feel the edge of the bandage against my palm, and I found that I was no longer annoyed with him. I told him that I didn’t mind, that I was glad he
was able to attend, and we said no more on the subject.
Clarissa took advantage of a pause by Mr Meredith to speak with me for several minutes. All the while I watched Edith Gould sitting with her parents, Mr Darby and the Neshams. She cut a piece of meat for several seconds, then left the morsel at the side of her plate. The others were engaged in conversation and, without a word, Edith placed her napkin on the table and withdrew. She kept close to the wall until she reached the door, and opened it just enough to slip out.
The supper wore on, and after several minutes I excused myself to go and find the bourdaloue. Clarissa offered to go with me, but I said that I did not wish to deprive Mr Meredith of her company, and she flashed me a dark glance.
The drawing room was empty except for some older men and women playing cards in the corner, and servants stoking fires and replenishing the punch bowl. They paid me no heed as I made my way to the mechanical boy, who still drooped over his spoiled portrait.
His pale blond hair was real, soft to the touch, and I briefly wondered if it came from a child living or dead. I looked more closely at the drawing, and the cross he had made over the picture of the girl, and I could not help but remember the marks on Emilie’s wrist. There was a hatch concealed in the boy’s back, clothed in the same red silk of his coat. I opened it to peer inside. The cavity of his torso was filled with a lattice of delicate rods and wire threads, all surrounding a column of discs tightly stacked like copper coins. A large cogwheel was inserted at the bottom, each of its teeth bearing glyphs inscribed in metal, with the needle of a stylus resting against one. There was a brass plate attached to the inside of the hatch. In fine cursive letters, it read: David Elyan, Horologist of Abbey Street.
Lord Charlemont’s key remained in the device. It turned smoothly, without a hint of stiffness, but I was ready in case the boy continued to scratch at the portrait. Instead, he brought the quill to the bottom of the page and began to form letters. The ink on the quill had dried during the long interruption, and the point only left an occasional streak of black, but I waited for him to finish before removing the page from its frame.
I held the sheet against a candelabra so the light showed the stippled texture of the cotton paper, but the indents of the letters weren’t clear enough to make out. One candle had gone out. I removed a glove to break off a piece of the wick, crumbling it between my finger and thumb, then lightly brushed the page until the letters began to emerge – white lines in the grey smudge spelling out Hosea 2:4.
That was the verse of the Bible that the Brethren had held outside St George’s. Were they attempting to propagate their message in this grand setting? Would Lord Charlemont have allowed that? But, no; he had stopped the machine before it could write the text, alarmed that it had malfunctioned. The boy still sat at his desk, quill poised over the inkpot, his head bowed down with his eyes looking off to the right.
A woman’s cry in the corner made me jump, but it was only a flighty lady complaining about the poor play of her whist partner. I looked at the portrait again, the black cross and the white impress of the verse. I folded the sheet and placed it in the long sleeve of my glove, which I donned once more.
I passed through the ballroom, and down a long gallery until I reached the top of the stairs. In a darkened corner of the wide hall below, two figures were standing next to each other, almost silhouetted like characters in a shadow play. It was Edith Gould and James Caulfeild, and I observed them from above.
James was speaking, his voice soft and earnest. Edith stayed still as she listened, but then she seemed to get upset and turned as if about to leave. James reached out and held her arm – not in a forceful way – and Edith remained beside him, her face looking off to the side. He curled his finger and gently pulled her chin towards him. They stayed like that for several seconds, and I thought that he would lean down to kiss her. But then a servant crossed the hall, shoes clicking on the marble floor, and they separated. Edith immediately began walking down another corridor, and James followed after her. I was about to return to the dining room, but I heard more soft footsteps down below. Mr Darby passed through the hallway and paused in a rectangle of moonlight. He looked down the corridor that James and Edith had taken and began to move towards it. After a few steps, he was lost in the shadows.
No one noticed when I re-entered the dining room to take my seat beside Clarissa. She invited me to speak quietly behind an opened fan. ‘Where on earth have you been?’
I would have told her, but knew that she’d be disappointed about James. ‘I just needed some air.’
‘Mr Meredith will not stop talking: of his parish in Tyrone, his intention of returning there next year with a wife.’ She paused to check that he could not overhear. ‘He seems to think that because I’m the daughter of a clergyman I intend to marry one.’
Edith came back into the room, and Clarissa looked at her as she returned to her table, but didn’t comment. She said, ‘When will this wretched supper end?’
I leaned across and said, ‘Excuse me, Mr Meredith?’
The Trinity fellow paused open-mouthed, a dollop of pink flummery on his silver spoon. ‘Yes? Miss Lawless, isn’t it?’
‘Miss Egan tells me you are to be appointed a rector.’
He smiled at her. ‘Did she indeed? It is true. I’ve been describing to her the delights of Ardtrea.’
Clarissa said, ‘In some detail.’
‘There is so much to note – the handsome simplicity of St Andrew’s Chapel, the crooked coast of Lough Neagh, the—’
‘Have you ever met Mr Darby?’ I said.
He frowned, as if trying to place the name. ‘Mr . . . ?’
‘The leader of the Brethren.’
Mr Meredith placed the spoon on his plate with a clink. When he regarded me, his face was pleasant and carefully neutral. ‘May I ask, are you a member of his congregation?’
I said that I was not; nor had I any intention of becoming one.
‘I am glad,’ he said, and seemed to relax. ‘No, I don’t know him very well. Only by reputation. He was a fellow in the college when I was an undergraduate, and he was very highly regarded, until he began his ministry in Wicklow.’
‘With his new wife?’
‘Yes, but she died soon after.’ Meredith seemed to realize that Clarissa was regarding him with more interest than at any other time in the evening, and he took a sip of wine.
‘I believe that she died in childbirth,’ I said.
‘Those were the rumours. Of course a tragedy like that is redoubled when it hardens the hearts of those left behind. He was a different man when he returned to Dublin. He saw evidence of God’s punishment in everything, instead of his grace.’
Meredith said that Darby was clever when he founded his congregation. ‘He knew from his time in Trinity that he needed to attract members that were . . .’ He stopped and gestured to the room. ‘Well, people like this. Doctors and judges, the respectable and upright. And now his appeal will be broad because people are suffering. They look up at angry skies and ill omens, and in Darby they see a man not preying on their fears, but giving voice to them.’
He stopped speaking and looked over his shoulder, as if fearful of who might be within earshot. He left the remainder of his dessert untouched, and placed his napkin on the table. ‘But as I said, I don’t know him well at all.’
We sat for a while in silence, before Clarissa said, ‘Lord and Lady Charlemont have risen. We must return to the ballroom.’
Ewan and I joined the other guests moving through the gallery, and when we entered the ballroom we stood by a large window that overlooked Rutland Square. Lord Charlemont had arranged for the central garden to be illuminated with coloured lanterns, and several carriages were parked in front of the railings. The coachmen had gathered together beside a burning brazier, their faces yellow in the firelight. Liam was among them, and I was glad that he had found company for the long evening.
I asked Ewan if this ball was very different from
those he was used to.
‘I’d say they are much the same all over,’ he said. ‘Though Lord Charlemont’s interest in contraptions at least provided some novelty. I’ll have to write to Hannah and tell her about them.’
‘Hannah?’
‘My younger sister back home. She’s forever pestering me for news,’ he said, but with affection in his voice. ‘In fact, she’s rather like you. Nose always in a book, clever, kind-hearted.’ He stopped himself and glanced out of the window, as if he’d said more than intended.
‘Perhaps one day I shall meet her.’
‘Perhaps.’ He smiled at me and said, ‘You may finally meet your match.’
Somewhere in the hall, the closing dance – ‘Le Boulanger’ – was announced and, for the last time, gentlemen went in search of partners.
‘Would you like to dance, Ewan?’
He held my eye for a moment, then said, ‘Yes, I would.’
We stayed still until I whispered to him, ‘Offer me your arm.’ He did so, and we made our way to the dance-floor. I heard my name being called, and saw Clarissa waving us over. When I got near, she beamed at me and said, ‘See? I knew you’d be asked.’
I told her to shush, just as James Caulfeild appeared at her side. He expressed delight that we could join them. Clarissa took charge, declaring that our set was complete with six couples. She urged everyone to take their places in a circle. We linked hands while we waited for the rest of the dancers to assemble. An older couple, whom I knew to be Mr and Mrs Lecky, stood to Ewan’s left, and three other pairs completed the set. Mrs Lecky was a stout woman who compensated for her lack of height with a towering feathered headdress. Her husband was tall and awkward, and a slight swaying indicated that he’d been a frequent visitor to the punch bowl. He said loudly, ‘Which dance is this?’
His wife tugged at his hand in reproach. ‘“Le Boulanger”.’
‘And how does that go again?’
The gentlemen were standing with their feet crossed, waiting for the music to begin, but Ewan had got his the wrong way round. I squeezed his fingers, and when he glanced at me I nodded to the floor.
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