All Men of Genius

XVII.



CECILY noticed that her cousin had begun to act most peculiarly. Of course, he had always been a bit strange, but in the past week, he had become even stranger. He rarely left his lab, and stopped looking in on his students’ classes. At mealtime, when he was forced to be in the same room with the students, he spoke little and glanced at them nervously, as though expecting one of them to pounce. And she thought she detected a little guilt in the dark circles around his eyes, particularly when he spoke to her. She had asked him if anything was wrong, but he merely said, “Nothing … nothing…,” and walked away from her. There really wasn’t much she could do besides try to be a dutiful cousin, so she brought him tea at night when he was still in the lab, and told him how classes were going for the various students, as reported by Ashton. Ernest always seemed to grow paler when she mentioned Ashton.

And Ashton, too, was acting a little odd of late. When Ernest mentioned that Ashton had a sister, she realized that she really knew very little about him. They worked together, and talked of science, but not of each other. How was she to make him love her if she didn’t know him as a person, not just as a scientist? But he had become strangely reticent of late, introspective, as if something else were occupying his mind.

“Is your sister all right?” she ventured one day, taking measurements of his sketches for molds.

“What?” Ashton said.

“Your sister? My cousin mentioned you had one, and you seem distracted, so I thought maybe your sister was in some sort of trouble.”

“No! No, nothing like that. No trouble. I’m not distracted. Just, working.”

“You never told me you had a sister.”

“Oh. Yes. Twin, actually.” Ashton kept his eyes on the bronze in front of him.

“And you never told me,” Cecily said, pouting a little.

“Well, I guess not,” Ashton said, still not looking up.

“Ashton.” Cecily looked at him, but he would not meet her gaze. “Ashton,” she said again, reaching out, putting her finger under his chin, and lifting his face so he was looking at her, “are we friends?”

“Of course,” Ashton said, turning red. In the corner, Miriam stood and took a step toward them.

Cecily pulled back her hand. “Then we should speak as friends do, don’t you think?”

“I thought we did.”

“We speak of machines, and chemicals … but you never told me of your sister. And you have never asked about my family.”

“I didn’t … I didn’t want to be rude,” Ashton said, sounding as though he was just thinking of it.

Cecily crossed her arms. “My mother’s passing and my father’s disappearance are tender subjects, yes, but you could ask me about my cousin.”

“I don’t think that would be appropriate,” Ashton said, turning redder.

“You wouldn’t be taking advantage,” Cecily said. But Ashton seemed extremely uncomfortable at the notion, so she tried a different subject. “So, then, tell me of your sister. What is she like?”

“She’s … very clever,” Ashton said. “Not very ladylike, though. She doesn’t wear pretty dresses like you do, or always behave properly. Sometimes … I think maybe she’s a bit of a thorn in our father’s side.” Ashton’s hands drooped and went inactive as he stared out in front of him. “Sometimes she’s really very stupid, actually. She does things without thinking about them, and without knowing why. Stupid, dreadful things.”

“Is she really all that bad?”

“Bad? No. She’s not bad. I just wish … She’s so smart. At science, anyway. I think … she doesn’t realize how foolish she can be about things outside the scientific realm. She’s so used to being smart that she’s overconfident.” Ashton looked up, seemed to realize what he was saying, picked up a nearby hammer, and began pounding on the bronze.

“Do you think we’d get along?” Cecily asked.

“Yes,” Ashton said, smiling, “I think you could be great friends, if nothing came between you.” He looked down again as he said this.

“What could come between us?”

“As I said, she sometimes is a very stupid girl. I don’t think she always realizes how harmful her schemes can be.”

“Well, I shall have to meet her sometime, and hope that she isn’t in a scheming mood. Does she have a lover?”

“What?” The hammer flew out of Ashton’s hand. He bent down to pick it up.

“I’m sorry. I was just wondering if she has the attentions of any particular man.”

“I honestly have no idea,” Ashton said. “She keeps her heart a secret from me.”

“Well, perhaps she and I will become great friends, and if you’re very nice to me, I’ll tell you all her secrets.”

“Perhaps.”

“Maybe we’ll visit you on Christmas. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Ashton looked up at her, surprised. “We?”

“Well, Miriam always goes away for Christmas, so my cousin would have to escort me.”

“I don’t think that would be appropriate,” Ashton said, shaking his head.

“Don’t be silly.”

“And I won’t even be there,” Ashton said, as if suddenly realizing it.

“You won’t?”

“No,” he said, staring down at the metal he had been pounding, “I go to my aunt’s home for Christmas. And my cousin—also Ashton—comes and stays with my family.”

“An Ashton exchange?” Cecily asked, and giggled.

“Yes,” Ashton said, sighing heavily.

“Well, then, there would be no point in visiting, after all.”

“No,” Ashton said. He turned back to his work and considered it. Cecily cocked her head at him. There was a point in going to visit, of course, but not one Ashton needed to know: meeting her future sister, who sounded quite intriguing. And Ernest needed to get outside and socialize more. A Christmas visit would be good for both of them.

“Well, I should probably go back and see how the new formula has dried. Good day, Ashton.”

“Yes,” Ashton said, distracted. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Cecily resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss his check. Instead she left the mechanical lab and headed upstairs, half-skipping in anticipation of her Christmas plans. Miriam shadowed her, an amused look in her eye, but said nothing. Cecily wondered what she should give Ashton for Christmas.

She rounded a corner and sighed. Jack, Ashton’s friend whom she would have preferred not to think about, was coming down the hall toward her. She debated turning around to avoid him, but it was too late—he had spotted her, and was smiling. She tried to walk past him, but he sidestepped to block her path.

“Miss Cecily.”

“Kindly let me pass, Mr.…”

“Feste.”

“Mr. Feste.”

“I shall, but I beg you for a moment.”

“Whatever for?”

“So I might apologize.”

Cecily looked up at him. He seemed sincere enough, and she thought herself a kind and forgiving person. “Very well,” she said.

“You were right. I was jealous of your affections towards my friend. But as you are clearly a lady who fights for what she wants, and you want my best friend, I felt that I should be the better man and give up my own hopes of you. I was hoping, though, that as we have a friend in common, we could also be friends.”

Cecily nodded. He was a good sort after all, it seemed. Perhaps a little passionate, but he came to his senses quickly, and wasn’t afraid to apologize, which was a lovely quality much lacking in many of the young men she had met. “Very well,” she said, extending her hand.

He shook it. “I’m very glad.”

“If we’re to be friends, perhaps you could help me with something.”

“Anything to make up to you my past behavior.”

“I thought you could advise me on a Christmas present for Ashton.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, bit his lower lip, and tilted his head slightly. “Hm,” he said.

“Do you have any ideas?” she asked.

“Well, normally I would suggest tools of some sort, but I assume you wish to give him something unique.”

“I do,” she said, nodding.

“May I think on it a bit?”

“Of course,” she said, “and I shall as well.”

“Thank you very much, Miss Cecily. You are as kind and forgiving as you are lovely.”

Cecily raised her eyebrows at him.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, seeing her look. “I flirt with all my friends of the gentle gender. I’m quite shameless with Ashton’s sister, though she is as a sister to me, as well.”

“Well, mind you don’t get too smart, or else Miriam will scold you,” Cecily said, not quite believing him. He seemed so sincere, though. He had a boyish quality about him, as though he were honest and passionate and always looking for fun. She liked those qualities. They were so different from the usual stern, focused mentality of the other students. Perhaps, as they were now to be friends, she could find him a more appropriate match. But only if he was truly her friend. She would think on it, and see how things progressed.

Jack smiled at her again, and continued his walk down the hall. Miriam drew close to Cecily and spoke softly in her ear. “I think your cousin will find your giving a gift to a student quite inappropriate,” she said.

“Oh, don’t worry so much about it,” Cecily said. “He would really be mad only if Ashton got me a gift, and I don’t expect that from him. Still, I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention my plans to Ernest.”

Miriam raised an eyebrow, but nodded. They went into the chemical lab together.

* * *



ONCE out of sight, Jack leapt with happiness. All was going smoothly. Cecily would be his, if he were patient. He chuckled to himself as he walked back to the biological laboratory. Once there, he went over to his workstation, which had a small floppy-eared bunny in one cage and a pigeon in another. He put down the bottle of ether. He wasn’t all that fond of this part of his science. Cutting the animals open always seemed to him like a particularly cruel means to various ends that he loved. He tried to be cavalier about it—the scientific community had long ago sanctioned, if not encouraged, the use of animals for scientific purposes, and he didn’t disagree with the idea in theory—but as he dosed the pigeon with ether and carved open its chest, he shivered a little at the coldness of it.

Art requires sacrifice, he told himself. And besides, perhaps this bird can be taught to sing a new song, and then he will have his pick of the birds to mate with. One never knew what could make a better animal until one tried it. Jack found the voice box in the pigeon and switched it out for one he had taken out of a dead mockingbird, taking care to sew it in well so that it wouldn’t choke the pigeon. Then he closed the pigeon back up and let it rest in its cage. Later, Jack would see if he could make it sing. He looked over at the floppy-eared bunny, which he wouldn’t operate on until he felt quite sure of his abilities. The bunny stared back at him with large dark eyes. He gave the bunny a pat on the head, fed it a carrot, and the bunny anxiously took the carrot in its tiny paws and nibbled on it.

“You don’t mind being part of an experiment, right, Oscar?” he asked the bunny, who paid him no heed. “We’re going to teach you to talk, after all. What rabbit wouldn’t want that?”