Chapter 31 Plucked

The professor had asked Lady Portway to ensure he had access to a gramophone. He placed the needle on the cylinder and set the mechanism running. The strains of a Viennese waltz filled the air and, as we had practiced briefly among the clutter of the workshop in the small hours of the morning, Abel and I danced. He led, I followed, moving in a sure-footed rhythm across the drawing room f loor. What little we’d heard of Strondheim’s creation suggested his movements were jerky, betraying his mechanical origins. Abel glided, an intricate network of precision mechanisms working to create the illusion that he lived and breathed. Whatever the assembled guests had been expecting, it was surely not such a lighthearted display. The professor might envisage his automata as beasts of burden, fetching and carrying, but it did not mean they couldn’t be companions, too. The music came to a halt. Abel bowed and I curtseyed. Then we were enveloped in a crowd, Lady Portway’s guests keen to learn more about how this marvelous creation worked. I managed to slip away, anxious to see the professor’s reaction. He was still standing by the gramophone, and Lady Portway was with him, holding his big, calloused hands in her tiny ones. Raising herself on tiptoes, she said, “Oh, John, that was truly miraculous. I knew I was right to champion you all along….” She planted a kiss on his mouth, pressing her body closer against his in a fiercely intimate gesture. Unable to watch any more, racked with a fierce jealousy, I gave a little cry and fled from the room. I thought I heard someone call after me. Ignoring them, and pushing past a surprised-looking servant, I ran down the hall in search of a way outside. Turning a heavy door handle, I stepped into a small garden surrounded by high box hedges. The air was heavy with night-scented stock, and somewhere high above me a nightingale sang lustily. Tears stung my cheeks and I brushed them away, annoyed at the strength of my reaction. Why should it surprise me that there was such a deep attraction between the professor and Lady Portway? She had known him longer than I had, and had so much more to offer him in terms of worldly experience. “Smithy?” I turned at the sound of the professor’s voice. “What are you doing out here? Is everything all right?” “I’m fine,” I replied, trying to convince myself I meant it. “But what about Abel? He’s in there on his own, and his mechanism will be running down.” “He’s not my concern at the moment. You are. I didn’t realize being the center of attention would be so awkward for you, and I wanted to apologize.” “You think that’s why I ran out here?” I almost laughed. “Isn’t it?” “No. I—I left because I couldn’t bear to see you kissing Lady Portway.” I wrung the folds of my evening dress in my hands, not wanting to meet the professor’s gaze. “It was stupid of me, I know. She’s perfect for you, after all.” “Oh, Smithy…” The professor put his hands on my shoulders, pulling me close. “Look at me.” When I did, he continued, “Let me assure you Bella is the last woman I would choose to be with. If you’d stayed a moment longer, you would have seen how quickly I broke that kiss. We were discussing Abel and—well, she only sees the commercial benefits of patenting him, of making others like him available for sale. It’s all about money with Bella; it always has been. Yes, she’s invested in my work, but only for the return she’ll receive.” “Isn’t that true of any investor?” “There are philanthropists around, Smithy, I can assure you of that. Parnell is lucky enough to have found one to back him. But there are very few people who see how automata can be useful for the whole of humanity, not just themselves.”