A Study in Silks (49 page)

A small voice at the back of his mind reminded him about grounding wires, but the alcohol garbled the message. Bucky was standing nearby, and he thought vaguely of mentioning it to him, but decided against it. Forming a complete sentence would cost more effort than he wanted to exert right then. And, well, the stuffed sheep couldn’t actually feel pain, after all.

Tobias bent over the main control unit, set a dozen steps’ distance from the sheep. He flipped the transmission switch. There was a crackling noise, sparks flew, and Fleecy’s head burst into flame.

“Bugger,” grumbled Tobias as he emptied a bucket of water over the experiment, which resulted in further pops and sputters.

Bucky folded his arms, tapping one forefinger to his chin. “Unfortunately, SPIE will have to amend the name to include
incendiary
as well as impertinent events.”

Tobias made a rude noise.

A tall figure emerged from the clubhouse behind them.
“Can’t see the maids going for that one,” observed Michael Edgerton, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. He still had one arm in a sling from the squid incident. He’d fallen into the trombones. “Gar, that stinks.”

Tobias stomped on a stray scrap of smoking wool. “Smell of progress, Edgerton.”

“There’s a gentleman here who says he knows you, Roth.”

Tobias shared a look of confusion with Bucky, and then strode across the yard. Surprise morphed into annoyance. Hardly anyone knew of the existence of their private workshop. He guessed the only reason the Gold King tolerated their operation was because they were rich and kept the operation very, very quiet.

Tobias shouldered his way through the door, ready to snarl. Then he stopped in surprise. Magnus sat inside, looking as comfortable in one of their ratty, discarded chairs as he had prowling through the dinner crowd at Hilliard House. His cane leaned against the arm of the chair, holding his high-crowned hat.

“Dr. Magnus!”

He rose when he saw Tobias. “There you are. And I’ve met Mr. Edgerton. But I do not know you, sir.”

“Penner.” Bucky shook his hand.

“I am delighted to meet you all.” Magnus smiled warmly. “I admired your work at the Royal Charlotte. Such spirit is not to be underrated.”

Tobias’s mood lifted with the praise. Bucky and Edgerton looked equally flattered.

Magnus gestured around the room. “And now that we have been introduced, perhaps I should explain why I am here.”

They sat, Edgerton turning over a crate to use since Magnus was in one of the few actual chairs.

Magnus began in a confidential tone, as if he were picking up a conversation with old friends. “I am currently in pursuit of a—how should I put it?—a
part
for the main project for which I will need your collective talents. And trust me, this is a large and marvelous thing for which I require a crack team of makers. But it is taking some time for me to
acquire this part, and in the meantime I am eager to see what you gentlemen can do.”

“You want a demonstration?” Bucky sounded amused. “The squid was not enough?”

The doctor gave a gracious smile. “It showed competence and power of invention. I also require delicacy of execution. Consider this first commission as a type of audition for what comes next.”

Edgerton, who liked nothing better than a challenge, shifted impatiently on his crate.

Magnus nodded toward a trunk sitting against the wall. It was plain black, neither old nor new, the brass bindings dull with use. There were a thousand just like it on any train in the Empire. “The contents are your assignment. They require repair and assembly. With your extraordinary talents, I believe this test is well within your reach.”

The members of the society exchanged “after you” gestures. Growing impatient, Tobias crossed the room and released the clasps of the trunk, wondering vaguely how Magnus had got it there without a servant anywhere in evidence. The thought dissolved into unimportance the moment he lifted the lid. “What in blazes?”

“What indeed, Mr. Roth.” The words rolled out like a dare.

Inside lay the disassembled parts of a perfect woman. Tobias caught his breath, his brandy-hazed brain barely making sense of what he saw. It was clearly an automaton, but not one like he had ever seen. It was nothing like his father’s grotesques, nor at all like the steel monstrosities used in factories.

The hair, a long, lustrous auburn, had to be real. He reached in, fingertips brushing the soft, ruddy waves, discovering a tiny part that seemed shorn away. The slightest flaw, but it somehow gave the breathtaking features individuality. The face was porcelain and painted with such subtlety it was hard to believe that it was not hot blood that pinked her cheeks. The limbs were smooth and white, the hands perfectly molded and tipped with dainty nails. What jarred Tobias was that all those exquisite parts were jumbled
into the trunk’s interior. He picked up a foot, the shining joint poking out where the shin should have begun—but the naked toes were exquisitely detailed.

A shudder took him. This wasn’t a machine. It was a dismembered corpse made of ceramic and steel. His stomach suddenly disapproved of the brandy.

“I need you to put her together,” said Magnus. “I need you to make her live again.”

Edgerton had come to stand behind Tobias, the technical challenge clearly drawing him like catnip. “Is she clockwork?”

“Yes, that is the basis of her workings. And yet the design of my angel is imperfect.”

Imperfect? That word didn’t fit the creature he saw, despite her disassembled condition. Yet Tobias wasn’t sure if he felt excitement or revulsion. The others had gathered around, crowding him where he knelt by the trunk. The clubhouse suddenly felt stifling. Sweat soaked his shirt, making it cling to his back.

He picked up the head. The eyelids had soft lashes glued on in tiny tufts. They flicked open with a click, leaving him staring into glass eyes of an impossible blue. Goose pimples rose along his neck. The creature looked vaguely like Alice Keating.

“What’s her name?” Bucky asked.

“Serafina. She is meant to be the first of a troupe of life-sized puppets, if I can master the logistics of her workings. That is where you young gentlemen can assist me.”

Edgerton picked up an arm and was examining the tiny cables that worked the joints. “We may need some additional parts.”

“Buy what you need, and please factor in a cost in consideration for your time.”

The young men shifted self-consciously. There wasn’t one among them who didn’t have debts. Though gentlemen technically didn’t work for pay, the offer of money caught their attention.

They cleared the worktable that sat at one end of the clubhouse and began ferrying parts from the trunk one by one,
laying out the body in proper anatomical position. Some of the limbs were scratched or mended, as if the doll had met with violence. There were many tiny bits left in the bottom of the trunk, not all of which made sense to Tobias. He would need to spend a good deal of time studying the design before he knew where everything went.

He looked down at the automaton, trying to ignore the gaps where she should have been whole. The torso had a layer of sawdust stuffing beneath taut, flesh-colored silk that felt unnervingly like female skin. Whoever had made her had left no detail of female anatomy to the imagination, right down to details of the cleft between her legs. He had an irrational urge to cover her up to preserve her modesty. “Who built her?”

Magnus waved a dismissive hand. “A young Italian made it to an existing plan. Alas, consumption took him before he perfected her. The first trials showed flaws in the design, and I was obliged to make repairs. She walked and talked to perfection, but her ability to reason occasionally proved primitive, even aberrant—a common difficulty with automatons, as I’m sure you’ve heard. I have just now recalibrated that portion of her workings and would like to embark on a new trial at once.”

“So she outlived her first maker.” Tobias laid the final hand at her side. The fingers slipped coolly over his, as pliable as if she merely slept.

“She is an orphan and an only child. How long she stays thus is up to you.”

“If you took her apart, can you not reassemble the pieces?” Edgerton asked.

Magnus smiled. “Of course. But I believe that an essential bond is formed between the maker and the made. You will nourish her in the act of bringing her to life and be, if you will, her bridegrooms in her passage back to the world. Or, you will not and she remains but a puppet.”

“Bridegrooms?” Tobias asked, his thoughts straying to Serafina’s detailed anatomy. He yanked them back, somewhere between disgusted and amused.

“I am being metaphorical, of course.” Magnus lifted the
head and admired the painted face. “Do not mistinterpret my meaning as some piece of low comedy. Serafina represents a test, as I said. The questions she poses are not a matter of springs and gears, much less of the flesh.”

Bucky lifted his eyebrows, but said nothing more. Of all of them, he seemed the least interested in the doll.

The exchange was entirely lost on Edgerton, who was all about the mechanics. He squinted at the steel socket of her left hip, his concentration absolute. “The wear here is bad. She’s going to be arthritic before her time if we don’t replace these. The curve is wrong for the shape of the joint.”

“How hard will that be to fix?” Tobias asked.

He shrugged, taking measurements with a protractor square. “It’s finer work than we can do here. My father’s man is in town today. I’m going to talk to him before he catches the evening train for Sheffield. Either he’ll have something we can use, or I can get him to order some custom work.”

He cast a glance at Magnus. “If I have to bring something in from Sheffield, it might mean a bribe to the Gold King’s officers. You know how the barons are about machinery.”

Magnus simply nodded and flicked his fingers, as if the cost was nothing. Edgerton left.

Tobias and Bucky remained at the table, one on either side. Bucky cast a look at Magnus, his face doubtful. “What are you going to do with her once she’s operational? You say you want a troupe of these puppets?”

“There are specialized kinds of theater that require a durable cast.” Magnus rose and began pacing the floor. He wore no cape, but one seemed to swirl about him anyway as he stopped, reaching into the trunk. “These are the designs.”

He drew out a dull brown portfolio and unwound the string that secured the cover. He withdrew a handful of sketches, laying them out on the edge of the worktable. With a start, Tobias recognized his father’s handwriting.

“Yes,” said Magnus. “She is of the latest technology, but the original concepts were your father’s work. You come by your talent honestly. My hope is that, unlike him, you do not become entangled in mundane considerations. A gift like
yours demands freedom to fly.” Magnus met his gaze and held it, as if to make sure Tobias grasped the full import of his words.

“I’m just a dilettante.”

Magnus’s mouth curved in an expression that said humility was sweet, but utterly unnecessary. It made Tobias taste the lie on his tongue.

He didn’t want to be a mere dabbler. Tobias felt his skin heat with a sudden desire to live up to the task Dr. Magnus had set. It felt like a hunger, or the thirst after an entire night of drink. He was a rich man’s son. His life might not depend on proving himself, but something else, something important inside him, did.

Magnus replied without taking his eyes from Tobias. “My goal has always been to unite artifice and animus.”

“What does that mean?” Bucky asked with a nervous laugh.

“There are a thousand ways to construe the concept. I like to think that we always put a little bit of our souls into what we create. In turn, creations feed their creator by seducing the public with their beauty.”

“You make your puppet sound like the bride of a vampire,” said Bucky.

Magnus laughed, but it wasn’t a reassuring sound. “An apt comparison, in a way, though I would not put it in such graphic terms. Creators need the awe and wonder of their audiences the way a revenant needs blood.”

Bucky’s face twitched, as if he were trying very hard not to laugh. “I hope you don’t expect children to play with your dolls.”

Dr. Magnus narrowed his eyes. “I don’t let just anyone play with my toys.” Then he chuckled. “Serafina is dear to me. I owe her much. Creating a thing of beauty purifies the soul, don’t you think?”

Tobias winced. “I wonder what a flaming sheep says about my chances for salvation.”

Bucky scratched his chin. “Perhaps slightly more than the exploding still. But not much.”

I SHOULDN
’
T BE HERE. THIS IS UTTER AND COMPLETE FOLLY
. Evelina stood across the street from the Hibernia Amphitheatre, looking up at the marquis—
THE INDOMITABLE
NICCOLO! THE FABULOUS FLYING COOPERS!
—and tried to identify the burning in her chest. Regret? Jealousy? Relief that she had escaped that life?

Much of it was loss. She was going to be presented the next day. After that, there was the Season and perhaps college, if she could manage it. Evelina carried magic within her, but her path was clearly pointed toward a life within the gentry. She’d made that choice long ago.