All Men of Genius

X.



JACK was already seated when Violet found him. Toby, Drew, Lane, and Merriman were sitting around him, listening to him talk.

“When I was finished,” Jack was saying, “I had a snake with three tails. It looked quite disturbed by the whole thing, really.”

Toby burst out laughing, and Drew chuckled manically. Lane and Merriman just looked stunned.

“Telling stories?” Violet asked, sitting down.

“Just telling everyone what I did with my independent study time today,” Jack said. “I made a three-tailed snake. Valentine said it was courageous, but lacked subtlety. What did you get up to down in the mechanical lab?”

“Nothing much,” Violet admitted, staring down at her food. “I spent the first part of my time fixing a toy for Cecily.”

“For Cecily?” Jack asked. Violet nodded.

“She spoke to you?” asked Drew. Violet nodded again. Everyone around the table was looking at her, wide eyed, waiting for more of the story.

“It was a clockwork rabbit the duke made for her,” Violet continued slowly. “It was really an ingenious design—the leash, when tugged, pulled the spring so it would hop after her—”

“What was she like?” Jack asked.

“The rabbit? I think it was a he. Cecily called it Shakespeare. It was beautifully made. The duke is really quite—”

“No,” Drew interrupted, “what was Cecily like?”

“Well, she was very friendly,” Violet said, confused.

“She’s so beautiful,” Merriman sighed. Lane nodded in agreement.

“You’re lucky she spoke ta you,” Drew said. “She’s never even noticed me.”

“Did you mention me?” Jack asked.

“Are you all so in love with her?” Violet asked. All but Toby nodded.

“I have a woman already,” Toby said with a satisfied smile, “and she pays plenty of attention to me.”

“I can’t see other women since I’ve met her,” Jack said.

Violet glared at him. “You first saw her yesterday, and there haven’t been any other women to see since then.”

Jack gave Violet a pointed look, and she realized that of course, there was her. She felt her cheeks warm, and hurriedly took a bite of the mash on her plate.

“She’s the most beautiful, sweet, darling girl in the world,” Drew said.

“You’re all fools,” Violet said. “You should focus on your studies, not your … your…”

“Pricks?” Toby offered.

Violet felt herself blush again.

“Too much of a gentleman to use that sort of language?” Toby asked, noticing Violet’s shock.

“Ashton’s got a delicate soul,” Jack said, goading Violet.

Violet narrowed her eyes at him. “Bugger off, shite-for-brains,” Violet said. Jack looked shocked, but then laughed. Violet felt proud for a moment, then guilty. She didn’t mind working in her lab late at night, but she had always felt the use of foul language was somehow below her, as a woman. The boys around her were laughing at her outburst, and Jack clapped her on the back. This was apparently how young men talked, no matter their rank. She would have to get used to it. “Any closer to your hangover cure?” Violet asked Toby, once the laughter had died down. She was happy to be blending in, but didn’t want attention to linger on her for too long.

“Perhaps. I won’t know for sure until tomorrow,” he said with a grin. “Speaking of,” he said, taking a pocket watch out of his jacket, “I’m going to go upstairs and change into something a bit more presentable. Have a nice night, lads.” He nodded and left the table.

“I should probably be going, too,” Drew said, looking around nervously. “I’m done with my food, anyway.” Everyone stared at him for a few seconds, and he nodded and left as well. Violet waved them good-bye. They were an odd pair. Merriman and Lane soon excused themselves, wanting to study for Bunburry’s class tomorrow.

“Should we make ourselves presentable?” Violet asked Jack across the table when she had finished eating. “I’m not sure where we’re going tonight.”

“We should probably wash up, in case there are ladies,” Jack said, amused.

“I thought you didn’t notice any ladies but dear Cecily any longer,” Violet said.

“Well, had I noted you as an exception, I think there might have been some trouble for you.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Violet grinned, despite herself. Jack was seldom flirtatious with her, but she enjoyed his attention anyway, especially when she felt so odd and not like herself in these tight men’s clothes. Becoming a man, it seemed, had made her long to be a woman again, though when she was a woman, she had been all too anxious to become a man. Perhaps she was never going to be really satisfied.

“Let’s go wash up, then,” Violet said, rising.

Upstairs, Violet rinsed her face with cool water from the sink and washed her hands thoroughly with a soap that smelled like pine—from Pale Perfumes, she noticed. Perhaps Drew’s family supplied the school with soap. She chose what Ashton had said was the best of her suits and, with a grunt of pain, tightened the bindings around her chest till she ached. She put on the suit and a clean shirt and gazed at her reflection in the looking glass. It had been only two days, and already she wanted to shed these ridiculous clothes and slip into the simple comfort of a dress. She wanted to feel the long curls of her hair falling over the nape of her neck again. She wanted to recognize the person in the mirror.

She set her jaw and furrowed her brow. Only two days! She would have to toughen up if she was going to prove herself. If she were to abandon the plan before its success, she would not just be letting herself down, but, in the most melodramatic sense, all the women of the world. The truth would come out sooner or later; she just needed to make sure it was later, after she had made her genius so clear that the world could no longer scorn or punish her for what lay between her legs. That was the only way to avoid humiliation, or worse. She swallowed, thinking of her brother’s lecture in the carriage, and sucked her lips in. She needed to focus on her strength, she knew, not her vulnerability. Build a machine around the strongest parts—the firmest pistons, the hardest steel—and it would last and work. Build it around a flimsy spring, and it would fall to pieces. She needed to be an iron rod.

“Are you ready, or are you going to keep staring at yourself in the mirror?” Jack asked. “You make a pretty boy, to be sure, but I always pictured you more interested in the kind of man who had intelligence in his eyes.”

Violet folded her arms and turned to glare at Jack, who grinned back. “Bloody jackass,” she said.

“You’re getting pretty good at the foul language,” Jack said, “and I suspect an evening with the lads in London will further perfect your skills. So let’s go to it, shall we?”

Jack cocked his head toward the door, Violet nodded, and the two walked out together. There were some students in the lounge, but they ignored them as they headed for the stairs and out into the entry foyer, where they had waited for their interviews. Drew and Toby were there already, not looking very different, though perhaps smelling better. Drew seemed to be doused in lavender, and Violet wondered if he was testing a new version of his perfume on himself.

“Good,” Toby said, heading for the lift. “Let’s go. I don’t want to keep my lady friend waiting.”

“Lady friend?” Jack asked.

“Where are we headed?” Violet asked as they all got in the lift.

“Special way out,” Toby said. “No one watches it. Good for leaving and returning past curfew.”

“Lady friend?” Jack repeated.

“It’s not Cecily,” Violet said, rolling her eyes. She was growing tired of Jack’s obsession with Cecily and his ridiculous hopes of somehow spending time with her. The lift descended to the basement, and Drew exited, making a sharp right, away from the labyrinth they had wandered through the previous evening. He pulled on what looked like a darkened gas lamp, and a door swung open, revealing a stairway and the smell of the river.

“Found it my first year,” Toby said proudly, and headed up the stairs. Everyone followed, and they came out quite near the river, in the garden, not far from where she and the duke had stood together months before. In the early evening, the Thames shone blue black through the fog, and the smell of coal and smoke was cut through by the smell of running water. The sound of the great waterwheel clanked loudly.

“Did he tell you he found it his first year?” asked a low female voice. Violet and Jack turned. There was a woman waiting for them under a tree, her gray cloak loosely open around her shoulders, revealing a low-cut green dress underneath. Her face and the mass of curls around it were still in shadow. “I found it, years ago. I just showed it to him his first year.”

The woman stepped out of the shadows and Violet stared at her. “This is Jack Feste and Ashton Adams,” Toby said to the woman. Violet knew she recognized her, but could not place her.

“Pleasure, Mr. Feste,” the woman said, “and good to see you again, Mr. Adams.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Jack said.

“This is Miri,” Toby said, and Violet couldn’t help but gasp. She saw it now: This was Miriam Isaacs, Cecily’s governess. With her hair down, and in something other than her high-collared black dress, she looked completely different. Her dark skin glowed against the narrow green dress, and though her features were still oddly exotic and her frame still unfashionably boyish, she possessed a sort of wild beauty that Violet found herself envying. And she stood differently, too. She still seemed strong, Violet thought, but whereas as a governess she was docile, a support beam, now she was almost gaudy, like a statue of the Magdalen. In fact, she seemed to have a bit of the demimondaine about her, with her loose cloak, her slim dress, her dark eyes, and easy smile. And what was she doing sneaking out at night with the students?

“You’re … courting her?” Violet asked.

Toby laughed, and Miriam smiled forgivingly. “I hope you won’t tell anyone,” Miriam said, “but I am a widow, without family, and I do not think it particularly improper for me to socialize with the young men of the school, as long as it does not interfere with their studies. I know how it must look, but I assure you, I am an honorable woman, in my own way.”

Violet bit her lower lip. She couldn’t blame Miriam for taking such freedoms, as Violet had taken more than a few herself. She nodded. “We won’t tell anyone,” she said.

“Thank you,” Miriam said. She took Toby’s arm and they walked off through the garden in the dull moonlight. The rest of them followed after. At the edge of the garden, far from the school itself, was a small gate that Toby unhooked and led Miriam through.

At the corner beyond, waiting in the dim gaslight, was a cab. The driver raised his hat at them, and Toby grinned back at Violet and Jack. “As you can see, we do this sort of thing rather frequently.”

They boarded the cab, and though it was tight, they all fit.

“Where are we going?” Jack asked.

“A surprise, lads,” Toby said with a grin. Miriam let out a deep murmur of laughter, and lay her head on Toby’s shoulder as the cab took off.

The smells and sounds of London at night came pouring in through the windows. Human musk, ale, smoke, and dirt, the sounds of cackling laughter and pea-pod men calling out their wares and clanging their pots, and the occasional moments of song, all things that Violet hadn’t experienced before. She gazed out the window, her eyes wide at the display of people: in rags or suits, tumbling drunk on the street or cowering in an alleyway. London at night was no place for a lady, she could hear Mrs. Wilks saying. Far too dangerous. The cab stopped deep within the city, a part of it she didn’t know, next to a pub with a wooden sign hanging above it, which showed a large-bosomed woman with an easy smile holding out a roast pig. Inside, the lights were bright and Violet could hear laughter and music.

“Well, get out, then,” Toby said from behind Violet. She opened the door and stepped down onto the street. For a moment, she was happy to have trousers on, and boots to tuck them into, as the hems of her skirt would surely get filthy walking through the ankle-high muck of the streets. When Miriam descended, she merely lifted up her skirts, apparently unconcerned that a man in rags could see her ankles, and even her shins, and was whistling at her. Toby held the door to the pub open for her and then followed her in, leaving the others to open the door themselves and see what awaited them.

“What have we gotten into?” Violet whispered at Jack.

“Don’t worry,” Jack whispered back. “I’m sure it’s just a bit of merrymaking.”

“If we end up in a whorehouse, I shall leave straightaway,” Violet said.

“Right…,” Jack said, opening the door to the pub, “me too.”

Inside the pub, it was warmer than Violet had expected. There was a huge fire in the hearth, and the windows were closed to keep the heat in. The barkeep was roasting bangers over the fire, and the room smelled of fat and meat. At one end, a man played the piano and sang a song whose lyrics Violet couldn’t quite make out, and some men and women danced near him. At the other end, Toby, Drew, and Miriam were sitting down at a table, waving at Violet and Jack to join them.

“What, never been out?” Toby asked as they sat. “This is the Well-Seasoned Pig: finest ale in the district, and good bangers and mash as well. Lot better than the slop you get back at Illyria.” Miriam leaned against Toby in a way Violet felt was probably not appropriate public behavior, even between a married man and woman. But looking around the room, Violet saw many other couples behaving in much the same way. In fact, it turned out that Miriam was dressed quite modestly for the establishment. “Sit down, Ash,” Toby said, “and stop gawking. You’re worse than Drew here, and he has to stay distracted or he falls asleep.”

“S’true,” Drew said, staring at a particularly well-endowed barmaid strolling past, “gotta stay distracted.”

“Well, this is a good place for it,” Jack said, also eyeing the barmaid.

“You fall asleep?” Violet asked.

“Yeah,” Drew said. “If I’m bored. Just happens.”

“Doesn’t that happen to everyone?” Jack asked.

“Happens more ta me,” Drew said. The barmaid returned and placed a frothy mug in front of Violet, who eyed it suspiciously, and one in front of Jack, who quickly started drinking it.

“Drink up,” Toby said. “My treat for being such good fellows about Miriam’s keeping less-respectable company.”

“If a lady goes out drinking with men she’s not married to, it’s she who is less respectable, not the men she drinks with,” Miriam said.

Violet closed her eyes and took a swig. The ale was bitter, but curiously refreshing, and felt warm splashing down inside her.

“I suppose that’s true,” Toby said. “Well, then, it’s for being forgiving of my associating with less respectable company.”

“You really are quite the flatterer,” Miriam said, leaning away from Toby.

“I met the other biology students today,” Jack said to Violet as Miriam and Toby murmured to each other. Violet watched Toby’s fingers trace up and down Miriam’s bare arm and wondered what it felt like to be touched in such a way.

“Oh?” Violet asked, turning to Jack.

“Quite the pair. A redheaded Scot, who doesn’t seem to do much besides brush the fur of his cats while telling them they’re pretty, and an anti-social Russian, obsessed with figuring out how best to attach elephant tusks to a mastiff.”

“That sounds frightening,” Violet said passively. Her eyes went back to Toby’s hand on Miriam’s arm—back and forth it went, like a pendulum.

“Except that Valentine kept tellin’ him it wasn’t allowed, because it would be a weapon. So instead he seethed silently, then worked on fusing boar skin to a cat, at which point the Scot, Leslie, rushed forward and told him he was being cruel.”

“Les is my year,” Drew said. Apparently he had been listening in. “He thinks cats is smarter than people. Doesn’t really do much to them. He says he waits for the cats to ask him to do somethin’ first. Last year, for the faire, he made a cat that could walk upright. He dressed ’im up, too, in a little suit. He said the cat loved it. If ya ask me, the cat was none too happy about it. Kept wobbling around, looking like it was afraid it would fall down.”

“That sounds absolutely marvelous,” Jack said, grinning. “Perhaps I’ve underestimated this Leslie chap.”

“Good evenin’, gents,” said a woman, sidling up next to Jack. “I noticed some of you are lackin’ company, so me and my friends thought per’aps you’d care ta buy us some drinks?” Violet looked up at the woman. She was at least fifty, probably older, and had caked her face in thick makeup. Her dress seemed off somehow: too tight, too old, perhaps out of fashion—she couldn’t be sure without asking Ashton. The woman laid her hand on Jack’s. Two other women, one large and certainly not younger than sixty, and the other quite thin, with huge eyes that didn’t look capable of blinking, stood behind her.

Jack grinned. “My heart belongs to another,” he said. “But if the other lads—”

“No!” Violet said quickly. “My heart … um, also … yes. Just no. No thank you.” Violet looked down at her drink and then took a long swig of it.

“I doubt I’d be very interesting to you,” Drew said. “I tend ta fall asleep.”

“Oh, do you?” said the woman, her voice syrupy with concern. “Well, I’ll have to make sure I don’t bore you, then.” She circled the table and put her arms around Drew’s neck, then sat down next to him, still clinging. The other two women she had been with drifted away toward other men in the bar. “So, will you buy me a drink?” the woman asked Drew. Drew nodded. The woman adjusted herself on her seat and brought the barmaid scurrying over with a gesture. “Champagne, the best you ’ave.” The barmaid disappeared, and the woman sighed happily and began stroking Drew’s hand, much as Miriam was stroking Toby’s. Soon, Violet noticed, they seemed to have settled into a pattern, Miriam’s hand up on Toby’s shoulder while the woman’s hand was down on Drew’s wrist, and then they switched back again.

Violet sighed and turned to Jack, who was drinking his ale and smiling. “I’m surprised you turned away companionship,” she said tartly.

“Ah, since I’ve seen Cecily, no other will do.”

“Is this really how men behave?” Violet hissed under her breath.

Jack nodded. “And you, I suppose, are still pining over Gwendolyn?” Jack said, perhaps a little louder than necessary.

Toby and Miriam glanced over. “Does Ashton have a girl back home?” Toby asked with a grin.

“Ah, no,” Violet said. “Jack is just teasing.”

“Well, who is Gwendolyn, then?” Miriam asked, her eyes narrowed. “I promise not to tell Cecily.”

“I certainly don’t care if you tell Cecily or not, because it’s of no concern. Gwendolyn, is … uh…”

“The maid,” Jack said, pursing his lips. “And Ashton has yet to tell her how he feels, because he thinks it improper, and that he would be taking advantage.”

Toby roared with laughter and pounded the table with his palm. The strange woman, who was by now sipping her champagne while halfheartedly patting Drew’s hand, glared at him.

“Well, come on, lad, take advantage,” Toby said.

“I really … Jack is exaggerating,” Violet said, feeling a sudden urge to hit him.

“Hmmm,” Miriam said, leaning back into her chair and looking at Violet intensely.

“What do you think, Mir?”

“I think maybe he doesn’t want to reveal the details of his love life to new friends. Give him time, and I’m sure he’ll tell us all about how Gwendolyn broke his heart.”

Toby guffawed again. “I guess that’s woman’s intuition for you,” he said, and laid his arm around Miriam’s shoulder. Violet looked down at her mug and took another drink. It was less bitter this time, and more refreshing, so she kept drinking.

“Whoa, now,” Jack said, putting an arm on Violet’s shoulder.

“I guess we’ve stirred up some memories that need to be drowned, eh?” Toby said. Violet licked her lips and put down the nearly empty mug.

On the other side of the pub, the man went back to singing at the piano, and the group turned to watch. Pianos, Violet thought, were remarkable inventions. Their mechanisms had an elegance that suited the idea of music. As the man played and sang, she could hear, over the din of the pub and the conversation that resumed among Jack, Miriam, and Toby, the small wooden sounds of the moving pieces. It seemed to Violet that the piano was playing itself, or should be, not in the inelegant way that the popular mechanical pianos did, but with a sort of intelligence, able to sense its own tones and respond to them. After all, the notes of the music were just vibrating strings, and vibrations fall at different lengths. It wouldn’t be hard, she reckoned, finishing her ale, to create a piano that responded to its own vibrations, building on them. You could press one key, and the piano would then compose a random variation of harmony, based entirely on its own sound. Violet smiled as she thought of it, and then tilted her head, a memory suddenly skirting around the edges of her mind.

“Do you enjoy music?” Miriam asked.

Violet turned to Miriam, suddenly realizing that she was being addressed. Drew was asleep on the table, his companion having abandoned him. “I like the piano,” Violet said. “My bro—” Jack elbowed her in the side. “—er, my cousin plays it quite often. He enjoys them. I enjoy the mechanics of them. I thought of building one once, but decided the price of ivory was too high for something I would never really perfect.” Violet swallowed. She had nearly slipped up. She had to be careful.

“Cecily plays the pianoforte. Perhaps Jack should ask her to play it for him sometime,” Miriam said with a grin. Toby smirked.

“Do you think she would?” Jack asked.

“I think the duke would box your ears,” Toby said, “so that if she did, it would hurt to listen to it.”

“Ah,” Jack said.

“She enjoys music,” Miriam said. “She once spent three months trying to create a music box that sang like a chorus of birds, but with no success.”

“I doubt strings and metal could reproduce an adequate birdsong,” Violet said.

“Hm,” Jack said, nodding.

It had grown quite late—far past the school’s curfew—and the pub was emptying out. Drew snored softly into his arm.

“Well, it’s been a lovely night,” Miriam said, stroking Toby’s shoulder, “but you all have class in the morning, and it would be a great injustice to your new friends to keep them out so late that they suffered and were scorned by their professors.”

“I suppose,” Toby said, grunting. He leaned over and poked Drew in the ribs, causing him to bolt upright like a puppet.

“Oh?” Drew said. “Did I miss anything?”

“No more than usual, lad,” Toby said. “We’re heading back.”

“Right,” Drew said, taking out some money and handing it to Toby. Toby rose and everyone followed suit, Drew stretching a little. Toby gave money to the barkeep, and they all went out onto the street. The cobblestones felt particularly rough under Violet’s shoes, and the smell of smoke was heavier than she remembered. She envied the way Miriam lifted her skirts, oblivious of the catcalls of nearby drunks, and walked elegantly forward, toward the end of the street, where a tall electric light stood, buzzing. A group of cabs was waiting, and she climbed into the first one, Toby just behind her. Violet hoisted herself up next, and soon they were all crammed into the carriage. Violet found herself smiling as they took off over the bumpy streets. These were now her friends, it seemed, and she was warm and content. How nice it must be to be a man, she thought, and to always be able to acquire this feeling. Jack threw his arm around her shoulder and brought her head close to his with a fraternal squeeze.

* * *



AFTER the short trip home, they stumbled out of the carriage—well past midnight—and back to the secret door into the school, softly hushing each others chuckles.

“It’s been a fine night,” Jack said to Violet, and she nodded. Drew shushed them. “Look at the stars, and the river and the moon,” Jack continued. “This is our life, these our inspirations. I feel this is going to be a very good year.”

“I do, too,” Violet said happily.

“I’m sure it will be very, very good,” Miriam said, creeping down the stairs into the college basement, “but we can talk about that another time. For now, we must be quiet, or else we’ll all get into some trouble.” She paused on the stairs, and Toby, who was walking behind her, nearly crashed into her. “That doesn’t sound right, does it? Some trouble. Some … grave punition … grave trouble? No. Hm.” She put her chin down and they continued walking down the steps, and then back up the lift to the ground floor, where they all got out and headed to the stairs.

Miriam smiled to herself. She felt that lightness of foot from being just the right amount of drunk. She had made new friends, the year was beginning again, so she would see more of Toby, and the London fog had been light tonight, more like a soft rain. Miriam loved the rain.

“It has been a lovely evening—une belle nuit,” Miriam continued. “Such a pleasure meeting you both, but I must retire to my own room now.”

“You slut,” came a harsh whisper from up the stairs. Everyone stopped and held their breath, looking into the shadows. Slowly, Malcolm Volio descended, his eyes glowing with a dark fire and a sneer playing on his thin lips. He wore a grease-stained jacket and shirt, and his hands were dirty.

Miriam’s blood chilled. She had been discovered. But she pushed her shoulders back in defiance. She’d been called worse than slut in her time, but Volio radiated such arrogance, she had to hold her wrist to keep from slapping him.

“Volio!” Toby half shouted. “You’re barely worthy of wearing the dirt on your hands. Now, go back to bed.”

“I don’t think I will,” Volio said. He had finished walking down the stairs and now stood smirking at them in the small foyer. “I thought it odd to hear a woman’s voice in the basement tonight, so I came round the corner. And what should I see, but you, dear Mrs. Isaacs, the woman entrusted with our lovely Cecily’s upbringing, cavorting with—” He gestured at Toby. “I don’t think the duke would approve of such behavior.”

Miriam felt her chest go cold and her mouth weak. He was right, of course: The duke would not approve. Her eyes burned with a hatred as hard as iron. She loved her secret life, loved being outside society. It gave her freedom. As long as she crept along the lines between class and race, no one paid her any attention; she was dark-skinned, so no one minded her being unaccompanied at rougher drinking houses. She was educated, so she could be a governess. She was a widow, so she belonged to no man, and wasn’t waiting to be given to one. The only group who had tried to claim her had been her late husband’s family, but they hadn’t protested when she walked away one night and didn’t come back. All this gave her the freedom to do as she pleased, provided she was careful. She inhaled slowly.

“You won’t tell him,” Toby said to Volio. “And even if you did, we’d all say you were crazy. Right, lads?” Toby turned to look at the others. Drew nodded quickly, and after a moment, so did Jack and Violet. The room was dark in the dim electric light, and shadows edged around the bronze, long and engulfing.

“I will tell him,” Volio rasped, “and he will believe me. Or, at the very least, he will put Mrs. Isaacs under careful watch. But I think he’d be more likely to end her employment, just in case. He’s a careful man, the duke. He’d probably tell anyone else who tried to hire you afterwards, as well. If anyone else were willing to hire an Arab Jewess for a governess.”

Miriam could see her freedom slipping away from her. All her life she’d been told what to do—by family, by husband. She hadn’t really been free until she was the only one left, and even then she had been terribly alone until she realized that freedom meant she could go out at night, could associate with brilliant and funny young men like Toby, could fall in love, and no one would really care, as long as she was careful. With all that gone, all she would have would be solitude. A life as a woman in a high-collared black dress, looking after other people’s children, an outsider and a shadow. She fell to her knees.

Violet felt herself gasp in sympathy, for she could see the tears welling up in Miriam’s eyes and knew what she felt. She wanted to go to Miriam and place her arms around her neck, as a sister would, and tell her that it would be fine, that no one was going to lock her up or throw her out. She could still be herself, and free. But Violet was a man now, and such a gesture was not allowed.

“Please…,” Miriam said. Toby approached Volio and threw a fist at him. But Volio, not having spent the night drinking, quickly sidestepped it and approached Miriam.

“Don’t worry,” Volio said, “I won’t say a thing. Not about your loose morals, your drinking, your pleasures, your inappropriate associations with students … It will all be a secret.”

“For what?” Miriam asked, her mouth tight.

“Just give this note to dear Cecily.” He produced a note from his pocket and handed it down to her. Miriam glared up at him. He hadn’t just heard a woman’s voice. He had been waiting for her. He had been prepared. He had known for some time about her sneaking out.

“What is it?”

“It’s a love note.”

“The duke will not approve.” Miriam stared at the paper and sniffed.

“Then we won’t tell him, will we? I do hope I get some sort of response, and soon. Otherwise I will suspect you have not done me this favor.”

“I cannot make her write to you!” Miriam said, throwing the letter to the floor. “What if she doesn’t care for you?”

“Then you will tell her of my great virtues,” Volio hissed.

“I cannot make her love you,” Miriam said softly.

“I trust you will do your best,” Volio said, leaning in toward her. Their eyes locked. Violet, watching from the side, thought that at any moment, one of them would strike the other. Instead, Miriam lowered her eyes and Volio walked away triumphantly, back up the stairs. “Good night,” he called behind him.

“Bastard,” Toby said. “Bastard!” he repeated before slamming his fist into the wall, which made a soft metal ringing.

“Toby, stop,” Miriam said, standing up from the ground. “I’ll do what he says as best I can. Or I’ll…” She shook her head. “To bed. All of us.”

Drew headed into the lift. Jack followed Drew and pulled Violet along with him, but Violet couldn’t stop staring at Miriam, standing alone in the glowing brass room, suddenly vulnerable, looking as if she were staring down a great wave that would undoubtedly sweep her away. As the lift rose, she watched as Toby went to Miriam and wrapped his arms around her. Then the lift was on the second floor and she saw no more.

They silently padded down the hall to their rooms, waving good night to Drew when they parted. Inside the room, Violet let out a long breath, almost a wail, and fell onto her bed. “I hate him,” she said.

“You’re not alone there,” Jack said.

“The way he talked to her—the way she’s being treated—is horrible. And unfair.” Jack nodded in the dim light, taking off this shoes. Violet sighed.

“Vi,” Jack said, not looking up.

“Yeah?”

“It’s your situation, too.” He let that hang there for a moment, then took his socks off and lay back on the bed. “I just mean … maybe this isn’t the best idea. You can still drop out. With people like him wandering the halls … if he found out, you’d be ruined. He could try to take advantage of you.… I mean, I wouldn’t let him, if I could, but I’m just one bloke, and…” He stared down at his hands in his lap.

Violet smiled softly. “You’re sweet to worry about me,” she said, sounding braver than she felt. She knew he was right. She felt unsafe, as though the walls could collapse on her at any moment.

“Not just you,” Jack said, sitting up and looking at her. “Your father. He’s been good to my family; he’s like an uncle. And your brother … Well, in his circles, it would probably improve his reputation, actually. But your mother—”

“No,” Violet said, cutting him off. “If she were here, she would support me completely. I know it in my heart.” Jack stayed silent. “I just won’t be caught, then,” she said finally, standing up and going into the water closet. There, she removed her various vestiges of masculinity, unbuttoning her shirt and trousers and letting them fall in a pile on the floor before beginning the process of unwrapping the tight bindings around her chest. With each circle she unwrapped, she could feel the air come into her lungs a little easier, until, by the time she was unbound, she was taking heavy, ragged breaths. She let the bindings fall to the ground as well, and slipped a man’s long nightshirt on. She looked at herself in the glass over the sink. Her eyes and skin were red, so she splashed some water on her face before heading back out into the bedroom.

Jack had dimmed the small electric sconce on the wall. “Sorry,” he said from his bed.

“For what?” she asked, slipping under the covers of her bed. She reached up and turned the sconce the rest of the way off.

“I just wish there were some way we could get back at him,” he said. “But I suppose that at this point, any of my pranks would just land us in more trouble.”

“Only if he knew it was us doing it,” Violet said. The sounds of the wall of gears ground outside the room as neither of them spoke.

“Maybe Miriam should just quit,” Jack said.

“And let that man determine her fate?”

“She wouldn’t be working here much longer, anyway.” Jack said confidently, “I doubt she’ll even be working here next year, one way or another.”

“Oh?”

“Toby will marry her. He loves her.”

Violet bit her lower lip, but her laughing was audible anyway. “I didn’t take you for such a romantic,” she said.

“What?”

“He loves her?”

“Well, he does.”

“You can tell from one night?”

“I could tell from one minute. I know love.”

“You sound like my brother.”

“Some poetry might do you some good, you know. You have a distinct lack of feminine feeling within your heart.”

“You seem to have enough for both of us.”

Jack snorted in the darkness, and Violet snickered. “Good night, then,” she said, closing her eyes.

“Good night,” he said.

They lay in silence awhile, the sound of the grinding gears swallowing up their humor. Eventually, Violet fell asleep. She dreamed that Volio had discovered her secret, and made her crawl on hands and knees through sharp scraps of brass before he tore off her clothes and began to laugh.