“I suppose she must have suffocated.”
“Or drowned, sir. That may be my information. You recall when we removed to the Swiss mountains for three months, for Mrs. Penderby’s health?”
“Vividly. The only decent thing I got out of it was meeting Polidari himself, that stormy weekend.”
“Precisely. It is of the storm I would speak. You may recall that a pleasure boat foundered in the storm, and several lives were lost. Among them, sir, was a young princess from Wittgenstein. Princess Elena.”
“Hm.”
“All they ever found, sir, was one arm, wearing her rings. It was assumed she fell into the lake and became entangled with the paddlewheel, which severed the limb, thus causing her demise.”
“Great heavens, Soames! You think our new maid is the missing princess?”
“Just a feeling, sir. The arm. And she mentioned that she comes from Wittgenstein. She also speaks of having ‘waked upon the stone,’ and, hearing men speaking around her, she fled.”
“Great Scott!”
“Additionally, sir, I fancy that I recognize her. She was much present in our hôtel during our stay.”
“What, not that fashionable minx with the yaller hair? My word. That is interesting. Whitlake and Danton will be fascinated. Did she say whose soul they meant to translate into her?”
“That is another mystery, sir. Perhaps your theory is correct, and the soul departs the body before its worldly knowledge vanishes.”
“Or dissolves. Or fades. I wonder if she can remember anything between death and the slab? Oh, not consciously. But perhaps under mesmerism she might be made to recall—”
“Sir, I should suggest—”
“Danton is a decent mesmerist. I must suggest it to him.”
“There’s the doorbell, sir.”
“Quick, go get them inside before the other servants see them.”
“Immediately, sir. Oh, dear.”
“—Apparently before they were able to shove another soul into her body! What do you say to that, Penderby?”
“This would be Polidori’s translator?”
“Sir—”
“I must assume so. Who else was at the Work on that lake that week? She must have been very fresh, too. Clewis has narrowed the persistence of the energy body to seventy-two hours, and Polidori himself says the soul moves on much sooner. I’ll have to write to him and find out.”
“Sir—”
“Dammit, let’s have the girl down here and question her. Soames, go get her.”
“Sir, the maids have all gone to bed by now.”
“Oh. Well, for something like this surely we can hoik her out—”
“And Madam will be returning within the hour.”
“Damn.”
“Precisely, sir.”
“She’d chuck a dozen fits.”
“It also occurs to me, sir, that the maid Ileen may be painfully adverse to exploring her past—”
“Don’t forget, she’s a princess, Penderby.”
“Was. Was a princess, Whitlake. Maybe.”
“And if her soul or any portion of her identity survives, we could be—it might behoove us to tread carefully—”
“Good thinking, Danton. Potentially political situation. I’ll tell you what, I’ll write Clewis. He was up at the lake that week. If Polidari was up to anything, he would know.”
“Penderby, you don’t think they got hold of Her Highness’s corpse and deliberately—”
“Well, there she was, dead. And fresh as a daisy.”
“Very lucky chance, really.”
“Sort of thing doesn’t happen more than twice in a scientist’s lifetime.”
“Twice, Whitlake? I should have thought once.”
“Twice, three times, whatever. Some of us make our own luck.”
“So I’ll write Clewis, shall I? Ask casually about the death of the princess, was she acquainted with Polidori, sort of thing.”
“And have him across the Channel in forty seconds by the clock. You are an ass, Penderby.”
“Only if she’s one of his escapees.”
“And have him confiscate her before we’ve had a look!”
“Sir, if Madam should learn of Ileen’s precise origins, she might, er, choose to become the girl’s champion.”
“My God. You’re right. Not a word about this to my wife, Soames.”
“Sir, I find it increasingly uncomfortable to—”
“To what? Dammit, man, out with it!”
“To function on—on conflicted ground between you, sir.”
“You like your place, do you?”
“Shut up, Whitlake.”
“It upsets my mandate, sir.”
“He’s an automaton, remember, Whitlake? Penderby mandated him to obey them both.”
“Danton’s right, Penderby, you’re an ass. Man’s got to be supreme in his home, what?”
“Soames, I don’t mean to upset your mandate, but I don’t want to upset Mrs. Penderby either.”
“Don’t want a tongue-lashing, more like,”
“Couldn’t you simply...abstain from informing her? How bad would it be?”
“It gives me a—a tummyache, sir.”
“Oh, well. We can’t give a bloody butler a tummyache. What the hell’s the point of building your own servants if you give ‘em a conscience, Penderby, you ass?”
“I never did!”
“Well, he’s getting one now.”
“He has a tummyache!”
“It gives my wife a headache.”
“That’s not conscience, it’s hysteria.”
“The soul manifests its existence in many ways, Danton.”
“Pompous ass, Penderby. Under the cat’s foot, too. How the devil you can call yourself a scientist—“
“I believe I hear a carriage, sir. If you will permit me, I will go and open the door for Madam.”
“Oh, Lord. You’ll have to sneak out the back, gentlemen.”
“Master in your own home, Penderby, there’s nothing like it.”
“She’s a founder of the SBDH.”
“Back door it is.”
“Out of my way, Danton!”
“Oh, Mr Soames! So horrible! Come quickly!”
“Calm yourself, Cook. What is the matter?”
“Mr Soames, it’s the hape. ‘E’s gone and accosted Margie!”
“Oh, dear.”
“Hurry!”
“Hurrying, Cook.”
“EEEEEEEEEE!”
“Urgh! Urgh urgh! Eek ahk ahk urgh!”
“Great heavens.”
“They been and done and smashed up my whole kitchen, sir. My dinner will be ruined! I don’t know what I’ll tell Mrs. Penderby! Oo, duck, sir!”
“Ducking. Calm yourself, Cook. Have you any toffee?”
“EEEEEE!”
“Toffee? Why—here’s a bit, sir—but—”
“Ourgh!”
“Thank you. And send for Ileen—ah, there you are. Now I will endeavor to distract him. I will require you, Ileen, to abstract the kitchen maid from the orangutan’s embrace. Are you ready?”
“Duck!”
“Mmmp. Mmm. Mmmmm!”
“Soyez tranquille, Marguerite. Clearly, your maman neglected your education. If you had pinched him—just here—”
“Mmmoomp!”
“Well done, Ileen.”
“Eeeee—oh. You pinched him on the—”
“Ah, Madame Penderby, you need not have come down the stairs. All is well. M’sieur Soames has subdued the beast.”
“Goodness, what a mess!”
“Mrs. Penderby, if you would be so good as to remove Margie. She has the hiccups.”
“Hic! Ulp! He—it—ulp! Hic! I’m giving notice!—”
“And I’d like to give my notice, too, ma’am.”
“Oh, no, not you, too, Cook!”
“Mmmmmmm! Urgh!”
“Cook, have we no more toffee? How about humbugs?”
�
��Well, there’s my personal store in the bureau—”
“That will do nicely.”
“Oh, but sir, my own humbugs!”
“Merveilleuse! Cook has saved the day! And look, she has even sherry for calming Marguerite! Splendide!”
“Oh, well—Missus Penderby, sherry for you too?”
“Thank you, Cook. Please don’t leave us, Cook. I shall be lost without you.”
“Ileen, if you would help Mrs. Penderby here, I will remove the orangutan while his jaws are occupied.”
“Why, not one cook in all Paris could have rescued Marguerite!”
“Oh, well, them foreign cooks!”
“But the shock to your nerves! You require restoratives! I prescribe sherry! Unless there is brandy?”
“Spirits, Ileen? Before she has prepared dinner?”
“Cook is equal to anything, M’sieur Soames! Voyons, the boy has come back from the stable, and the kitchen will be tidy in one blink of the eye. Now you must lie down for one little hour, Cook.”
“I won’t say no. Come on, Margie, you foolish girl. You can give notice all you like, but first you’ll help me make dinner.”
“Mrs. Penderby, if you can spare me in the drawing room, I think I should assist the boy with excavations.”
“Would you, Soames? Oh, dear, I don’t know what Dr. Penderby will say. Another cook gone, and a kitchen maid, too.”
“I think Cook may decide to stay.”
“Yes, more sherry, thanks. Well, if she does, it’s only because you flattered her to death. That was very clever, Ileen. But he’ll be furious. He’ll say I can’t manage the household. He threw me out of the laboratory. He built Soames, and he’s never home, so why does he need a wife?”
“You are his conscience, Madame.”
“A most unwelcome one. More sherry, please.”
“No, a necessary conscience. Men like to move forward always in one direction of their own choosing. A woman is always pulled in two directions. She is aware of considerations. She must wait for all to be revealed.”
“I dread it.”
“Dread? But what, Madame?”
“I don’t want all revealed. I’m so afraid he has a mistress. Someone who tells him he’s always right. He used to listen to me. Now he hates my work. And I am afraid of his work.”
“I must believe he respects your work, Madame. That is why he hides from you, and hides his work. Men are such enfants. He fears your censure, for that has great power over him.”
“You think? You detect shame in him?”
“I detect a passionate heart, Madame.”
“Oh, I hope you are right!”
“Mrs. Penderby, what’s this I hear about Cook giving notice—ah, there you are. I’ve had a letter from—Great Scott, it’s a mess in here.”
“Horace!”
“I regret to report that the ape forgot himself with the kitchen maid, sir. However, Ileen has convinced Cook to rescind her notice.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good, I suppose. Here, Gwendolyn, I’ve heard from Clewis in Lake Geneva. I told him all about Ileen’s arm and everything and he’s coming across to London for the weekend. He’s keen as anything on Promethean experiments, and I shall finally get a chance to show him what I’ve done with synthetic tissues. We’ll open you up, Soames. Show him what the English side of things has been up to.”
“Certainly, sir.”
“C-Clewis? M’sieur Penderby?”
“Ileen, are you well? Allow me to take the sherry decanter—oh—”
“Hell, she’s fainted. Just as I’ve been telling Danton. These Prometheans haven’t the stamina of man-made automata.”
“Ileen. Ileen, wake up. Ileen.”
“Ah, non! Quoi—M’sieur Soames?”
“You have been screaming in your sleep, Ileen. The other maids summoned me. Here. Sit up. Drink some water.”
“Mon Dieu, I thought—but I was dreaming.”
“What was it you thought, Ileen?”
“It makes nothing, M’sieur Soames.”
“Pardon me, Ileen, but something has frightened you. Is it—is it because of the arrival of this man Clewis?”
“Yes! He looks at me, when we pass in the upper rooms.”
“You are quite sure it was he, then, from Lake Geneva?”
“I have no memory before waking in that cold room, on a bed of stone. Two men talked in English who spoke of using a machine that would put a soul into the clay. The clay! They meant me!”
“I see. Then they must have recovered the body from the lake before—but do go on.”
“I waited until they went out of the room for one moment and then I ran away. For two years have I been running! Ah, but now he finds me, and I am lost!”
“I must apologize. My thoughtless words to Dr. Penderby led him to write to Mr. Clewis. My only thought was that he might recall the death of a young woman who, I am nearly convinced, must be you.”
“But M’sieur Soames, what if he does remember me? It is more than I myself can do. Du vrai, no one wants a blue princess with a false arm. An amnesiac blue princess with a false arm.”
“On the contrary. I am persuaded that your royal nature manifests in everything you are and do.”
“M’sieur Soames is a royalist then! My royal hand feeds a raw chicken to the crocodile every week, and dresses Mrs. Penderby’s hair, and shakes the tea leaves onto the floor for sweeping. No, I cannot be royal now, if ever I was.”
“But, Ileen! Your duty!”
“A fig for duty, M’sieur Soames.”
“I’m afraid I cannot sympathize with such sentiments. I was created to serve. It cannot be but that if one serves faithfully in one’s proper place, one will be happy.”
“Vraiment? And are you happy? Well, M’sieur?”
“No. No, I am not happy, Ileen. My—my mandate troubles me.”
“Quoi?”
“The instructions Dr. Penderby gave me when he built me. I must serve him and Mrs. Penderby equally. He is a great admirer of Miss Wollstonecraft. Mrs. Penderby appreciates it. But—”
“They trap you between them in their quarrel.”
“Yes. He instructs me to keep secrets from her about his guests and his comings and goings. She demands that I spy upon him for her. It causes me acute discomfort.”
“But it must be terrible.”
“Dr. Penderby theorizes, you know, that not all human beings are born with a soul, but that they must labor to achieve a soul by suffering irreconcilable moral dilemma. Often have I heard him speak of it, in the library with his fellow scientists. I had no notion it would hurt so much.”
“For shame! That is too bad of him, to create you in such a way as to cause you pain! How fortunate that I have been encouraging Madame to think better of her husband.”
“Good heavens, Ileen, I beg you, do not interfere in their private affairs! The impropriety!”
“What impropriety? She is a woman, I am a woman. Her suffering must interest me. Besides, if they will only reconcile their differences, it will not matter if I am a dead princess of Wittgenstein or a live housemaid of London. This Clewis, brrr, he terrifies me. I had thought Docteur Penderby might protect me—but you say he will not. Yet if Mrs. Penderby can persuade him, or merely work her female mystique upon him, I can be truly free of fear! I shall instruct her in the arts.”
“No! A servant must never, ever intervene in the affairs of the employers.”
“But this is precisely what Docteur Penderby wishes you to do! And he himself put this foolish mandate in your head. It is his own fault that you suffer pain. He does not deserve your obedience!”
“Ileen! You shock me!”
“I am a good republican, me! If I have died, I have at least been reborn a free woman. If I serve here it is to make a living. Not to prove the mad theories of some égotiste!”
“But, Ileen, you have died. The rules change.”
“Yes, the rules always change for the
convenience of the victor, non? Do you think the victor will acknowledge your soul? No, for it is not convenient to him! You are just his soulless lackey!”
“Ileen—!”
“And how can you promise to protect me if you cannot interfere with your master’s private affairs? Oh, you are the perfect servant! You do not even have the soul of a servant! He created you without a soul!”
“Alas, I fear I have a soul where soul I had none. And it has just slammed the door in my face.”
“M’sieur Soames! Wait. I have been impertinent.”
“Unkind, but not impertinent, Ileen. You are right. I think—we two dwell in a different England, different even from our fellow servants. You and I are pioneers of a new class.”
“I did not mean to be unkind, M’sieur.”
“Ileen—bother, I wish that I had another name. You may call me Soames in private. It is not right that here, between ourselves, we may not observe our own class in—in parity.”
“Is it so difficult to say ‘equality’? Perhaps that goes too far. The mechanical butler and the zombi maid?”
“You are still a princess, Ileen.”
“Hush, Soames. You see, I can still be impertinent, if I try.”
“We should not be talking on the stairs. Someone will hear.”
“No, they are arguing. Do you not hear? Master and Madame.”
“Oh, dear. Don’t go down any further! We should not—”
“There is a reason why servants listen at doors, Soames. Our security is too much in their hands.”
“But—”
“Hush!”
“—Why do you want to help me? The laboratory is dirty. And full of corpses.”
“You know very well what you are doing with them. And it’s wrong, Horace.”
“Then why do you wish to join me in the work? You madden me, Gwendolyn!”
“Because—because we have parted, Horace. Wherever you have gone, it is into the laboratory first. I had thought you must have taken a mistress, but I—I am now persuaded you are innocent of that.”
“But guilty of crimes against humanity. Sorry, sub-humanity.”
“Wait, please. Listen. I can’t bear this silence between us. If I can moderate how I speak of your work, may I not see it, learn about it—join you? I—I want that more than anything, Horace.”
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