The Lady Astronomer (6 page)

“Al!” She dismounted in one fluid
movement as she reached him. “How are you?”

He looked up at her through his bloodied
fringe and smiled weakly. She put her hand out. “This is dreadful,
horrible!”

“Lucretia, head wounds always look the
worst of any,” remarked Freddie, reining his horse in beside them. Leibniz
scampered down and sat on Al’s lap, fingers combing through his hair as if looking
for something to snack on.

“Leibniz, ouch,” said Al, and
took the primate’s fingers out of his hair, receiving a withering look for his
troubles.

“Here, Al,” said Freddie and
upended a flask full of water over his brother’s head.

“What did you do that for?” He wiped
pinkish water out of his eyes.

“We need to see how badly hurt you
are, you dolt. Lucretia, do you have something that we can clean Al up with and
some kind of cloth to tie around his head?”

“Do I look like a travelling salesman
to you?”

“No need to be tetchy, dear.”

“Just saying. And no, not on my
person. Oh, hang on. I can do this.” She pulled hard and ripped the bottom
of her dress. “Here you are.” She handed the swathe of fabric over.

“Freddie! You really are hurting me!”

“Hush now, nearly finished. And there
we go, not so bad after all. Told you, head wounds always bleed something shocking.
Now for the piece de resistance, tah dah!”

Lucretia sniggered.

“I’m not sure what you’re laughing at
Lucretia, you were similarly turbaned recently. Not with a head wound granted,
but I do wonder sometimes.” Freddie neatly sidestepped the swipe that
followed.

“On a scale from one to ten, how silly
do I look?”

“It’s not so much the striped turban
or the blood on your jacket or the mud on your knees–and no doubt your arse–it’s
kind of …” Lucretia flapped her hands around as if hoping to conjure up
the right words from thin air. “The whole effect is…well, you have looked
better.” She offered her brother her arm and hauled him up. Whereupon he
set to brushing himself off somewhat ineffectually.

“Well at least the horse is still
here. But I would suggest that you walk, Al. Let me know if your head aches or
your vision is blurry and we will stop.”

*

“You have got to be kidding me.”
Lucretia stood in the middle of the street, if it could be called a street. She
turned slowly and took in what she had already seen, hoping that she had made a
terrible error. But no, everything was still as it had been. A wonky wooden
sign, proclaiming ‘Slough!’ in badly chiselled letters. A dusty road. Trees.
The Inn. The Shoppe. More silence.

“Oh, Freddie,” she whispered. “What
have you done?”

“It will be fine. You will love it!”

She could see right through his bonhomie,
and was about to tell him so, when they were interrupted by a small woman
entirely in white waddling their way. Even her hair, tucked into a prim,
ruffled cap was white. Lucretia supposed she had lots of time to keep on top of
her laundry.

“Well met, and welcome to Slough!”
She beamed, taking in the tired family, eyes widening when she saw Al, and even
more when she saw Orion, Leibniz, and Lucretia’s monoscope.

“Oh. I’m thinking that was your
luggage that I saw being driven through here to the old house earlier today?
And look at you, sir, back from some distant war recently? And what interesting
pets you have. My Jim keeps a pig–Jim! We have company!–called Mr. Trotters,
but nothing quite so exotic as the bird and the monkey here. And my, oh, my,
what happened to you dearie?” She walked over to Lucretia and enfolded her
in a bear hug. “It’s not often that I find someone smaller than myself. Ha,
ha! And you, sir, must be the new Astronomer we’ve heard so much of? Very fancy
if I do say so myself. Yes indeed. Jim! Where are you?”

“Indeed, madam,” replied Freddie,
all decorum and dignity, “and you are?”

“Bless you, dear. I am Mrs. V, this
here shoppe and inn are mine. And my husband’s of course. Jim!”

“Where is everybody?” Lucretia
took in the ghost town.

Mrs. V looked at her like she had lost her
reason. “Why they are all up at the castle, where on earth else did you
think they would be? But then, I suppose you are a stranger in these parts, but
not for long. No indeed. Jim!”

Jim, whom it must be assumed was the
long-suffering Mr. V, shuffled into view, as tall and thin as his wife was
short and squat, with a remarkably rotund steampig following him.

“You called?”

“Here are our new visitors, Jim, but
we have not yet done the necessaries, introductions, and so on. I am being
remiss, you must come inside for refreshments and Jim can bind your wound
properly, young man. Isn’t that so, Jim? But your animals need to stay outside
with the horses. You can tether them there. No, no, there. There! Yes, that’s
it. Now in, in. Into the Inn.” She laughed at her own joke. Lucretia
stared at Al and Freddie, mouth agape.

*

“The steampig, Mr. V, did you build
it?”

“It is a he, young feller me lad, and
no, I did not.” Mr. V took a long draw on his pipe and looked at Al though
half-closed eyes. “No,” he continued, blowing a perfect smoke square.
“Mr. Trotters lived up at the castle, but one day he made his way down to
us here and hasn’t gone back. He’s good company, I’ll give him that. Gobbles
down wood at an alarming rate, mind you. Has his own pipe, too. Figured that
was a better way of him blowing off excess steam rather than it coming from,”
Mr. V motioned him close and whispered, “his nether regions.”

“Ah, I see. Quite.” Al sat back.

Mrs. V stopped pouring tea mid-stream, the
pot held motionless in her hand.

“Jim! Was that you using a bad term in
our house? For shame! And us with guests, what on earth will they think? For
shame!”

The much beleaguered Jim lowered his head
and Al patted him on the arm in sympathy. The old fellow looked up and winked
at him.

“Perhaps you would be of a mind to
come and have a look at Mr. Trotters’ workings?”

“I would like that very much. I am an
inventor myself.”

“Well, that’s capital, just capital.
Mrs. V! Mr. H here is an inventor.”

“That’s nice, dear.”

“He is going to come and look at Mr.
Trotters with me, if we could be excused, my dear?”

“Of course.” She shooed them out
of the door. “I will keep Mr. H and Ms. H company. Now,” she said as
she beamed at them conspiratorially, “where were we?”

*

For once, Lucretia blessed Freddie’s innate
ability to bore the undergarments off someone. Mrs. V certainly appeared to be
asleep, chin on her ample chest, eyelids fluttering.

Lucretia quietly pushed her chair back,
motioning for Freddie to do the same. They made it to the door, and he took the
knob in his hand and turned, whereupon it screeched mightily and Mrs. V sprang
from slumber into wakefulness.

“Oh, leaving so soon? Have some more
cake. You hardly touched yours Ms. H.”

Lucretia looked at the slab of cake on her
plate, so ossified that it had more than likely been baked in the last century.

“Please don’t trouble yourself, I find
my stomach a little unsettled after our ride from Bath,” she lied.

“You poor dear. Can’t abide travel
myself. What about you Mr. H? I see you cleared your plate, could I interest
you in another slice? And another cup of tea? Ah, go on. You will.”

“No, no, Mrs. V. I too will decline.
Something appears to have dislodged my tooth…”

*

“We seem to have picked up a stray,”
Lucretia announced, looking over her shoulder.

“No, Mr. V said that Mr. Trotters
would show us where our house is. Seems he likes to poke around the bushes
there,” said Al. “Decent chap that, actually, don’t know how he lives
with his wife.”

“Or her cooking! Freddie lost a tooth
eating her cake.”

Al sniggered.

“Now that’s not nice, think of your
brother’s misfortune.”

Al sniggered.

“Al!”

He guffawed. “I’m sorry, Freddie,
about your tooth I mean. It’s just nice for a change that someone else is
suffering rather than me.”

“How is your head, Al?” Freddie, felt
rather generous for asking.

“It thuds somewhat, but we are nearly
there, aren’t we?”

“Look just up there.” Freddie
leaned in the saddle and pointed to a little house upon a hill.

“It’s tiny,” complained Lucretia.

“Lucretia, really. It’s just a bit far
away.”

“Oh.”

The house was pretty and whitewashed, with
climbing roses making their profuse, perfumed presence known. The roof was
thatched and pitched, and Lucretia’s heart sank until she walked around the
back and saw a smaller outbuilding with a flat roof.

“It’s mine!” Leibniz scampered on
ahead of her to lay claim and Orion found himself a new sleepy perch on the
roof.

Lucretia left her brothers to organise getting the
boxes, chests, and bags into the main house and Al’s outbuildings, where he
would set up his forge. She came to the rain-bleached wooden Dutch door, knots
in its fabric looking like huge eyes.

“Fitting,” she thought, with a
smile. She unbolted the top part of the door and pushed it open, peering into
her home and laughing at the mental image of herself as a horse staring out of
a barn door. Pushing the bolt back on the bottom panel, she nudged it aside and
stepped into her new life.

Lucretia spun around in the centre of the
room, her ripped dress flaring, and felt at home for the first time in her
life. A place of her own. She would share the main house, but this would be
hers. Lucretia giggled, and Leibniz came up to her.

He climbed up her dress and she took him
into her arms, cuddling him until he wriggled from her embrace. He looked at
her quizzically and she ruffled his fur.

“It’s called happy, deliriously happy.”
She bent and kissed his furry face. He wiped her kiss away, seemingly outraged
at such impropriety but she knew he secretly loved it.

“This is our new home, and I think we
will be very, very…” She turned, disturbed at a sudden noise. When she
couldn’t locate its source, she shrugged. “Never mind, Leibniz. It was probably
nothing. Now, I must quit dallying and find Freddie and Al.”

*

Chaos reigned. Complete and utter chaos.
Clothing, utensils, books, charts, plates, and cups spilled from boxes and
crates. Mr. Trotters lifted his metal snout at her entrance and lowered it
again, rooting though a pile of linens.

Lucretia followed a trail of papers and
came upon Freddie, distracted, at a desk. He was pouring over a large piece of
parchment which was weighted down at both sides with mismatched shoes.

“Freddie! Could we at least unpack
first?”

“Look! Look! Here is the final design
for the Forty-Foot! It is going to be the most amazing thing you have ever seen
in your life!”

She walked over and looked at the plans–undeniably
exciting, but it had been a long day and everyone, human, primate, avian,
bronze and steam would need a place to sleep tonight.

“It is really exciting. But we need to
unpack properly so we can start properly,” she replied, putting emphasis
on the word ‘properly’ knowing her brother as she did.

“You are such a spoil-sport.”

“Yes, well, needs must and all that.
Where is Al?”

“Gainfully employed getting his
workroom set up with the help of his orchestra.”

“Good for him. Now, let’s do the
boring stuff first; kitchen, bedrooms, parlour, and oh, by the way, I’m going
to sleep in one of the outbuildings.”

“Are you sure?” He looked at her
askance.

“Quite. I will have it fixed up in no
time. Oh, alright then, I will get someone else to fix it up for me in no time.
After which, we should set up this room for our Astronomy work.”

“I wanted to speak to you about that,
actually.”

“Yes?”

“It’s like this, Lucretia, I’m kind of
going to need your help full-time,” he wheedled.

“But what about the house? And who
will take care of the cooking and other necessaries?”

“Come on, you would serve us up something
like Mrs. V did earlier. No offence, dear, but it is not one of your strong
points.”

“True, but I did organise everything
you know,” she replied, voice rising in panic more than anything else. She
did like things to be neat and ordered. Which was virtually impossible with her
two brothers around, but still.

“I have an idea!” Freddie beamed.
Lucretia buried her face in her hands and groaned.

“It’s a really good idea, cross my
heart.”