All Men of Genius

XXVIII.



ERASMUS Valentine had a fondness for women of a certain age, and that age was at least sixty. He loved their soft, stretched flesh, hanging off their arms like wings, and the look of surprise in their eyes when he made love to them. He loved their stiff gray hairs, which stuck straight out from their scalp and were often dyed a strange false shade of lavender or orange, and he loved their long beaklike noses. If he was particularly lucky, their cries of passion would even sound like squawks.

He was often successful in his amorous quests. Though sometimes surprised, or confused, Valentine had loved many, many women of London, none younger than fifty-seven—and that one looked quite ancient for her age. But one bird had escaped his net, and it was the bird he wanted to catch more than any other: Ada Byron, the Countess of Lovelace herself. She was a different sort of bird. Ada had been famous for being wild and brilliant in her youth, and age hadn’t tempered her with caution—as it often did—but with confidence. She still smoked cigars, gambled, and wrote tracts on the future of analytical engines with just as much fervor as—if not more than—she had when she was in her twenties. When her husband died thirty years ago in an accident involving the steam presses he made to shape wooden ceilings into cathedral-like patterns, she hadn’t sought a new husband. Not out of grief, but because she didn’t see the need for one. She was independent. She laughed at bawdy jokes, and drank with the men after supper. And she had rejected all of Valentine’s advances. But she was coming to Illyria today, and Valentine was determined to persevere.

Ada always came early for Easter and stayed at Illyria for the few weeks before the holiday began, usually giving a lecture in the duke’s place. Valentine was waiting when her coach pulled up, and was there to help her out of it.

“Lady Byron,” he said, “such an honor to have you with us, as always.”

“Erasmus, shouldn’t you be teaching a young person something about how to make an elephant into a bird, or how to apply rouge?” She pursed her lips, and, taking his hand, stepped down out of the carriage. “Although, on second thought, you shouldn’t be teaching the latter. Wouldn’t want all our students looking like circus clowns.” Valentine smiled at her. Her remarks stung, but she was often this way with him. He assumed it was how she expressed affection.

The duke and Cecily came out of the college, and Cecily ran up to hug Ada.

“Good day, dear,” Ada said, stroking Cecily’s hair. Valentine bit his lower lip. No chance of escorting her anywhere now.

“Good day, Godmother,” the duke said, kissing Ada on the cheek. “So glad you’ve come to stay with us.”

“Ernest, dear, always. How is Professor Bunburry doing? I heard his accident this year was really a kick in the pants.”

The duke held back a grin and extended his arm to escort Ada inside, leaving Valentine alone with Cecily. “Shall I escort you inside, Miss Cecily?” Valentine asked.

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Why would I need an escort?” she said, and followed her cousin and godmother, leaving Valentine to trail behind her.

* * *



CECILY was very happy that Auntie Ada had come to stay. Ernest had been distant lately, or busy teaching, or off visiting Bunburry, and Miriam had become distracted and tired. Auntie Ada was sure to bring some energy back to Illyria, and Cecily had certain questions about love, questions she could not ask Ernest or Miriam, on the nature of the heart and how one knew one was in love. For though she had loved Ashton, and felt quite sure she still did—it would be unladylike to waver in her affections, after all—she also now had a certain affection for his friend Jack, who paid her more attention than Ashton did. Just last week, Jack had come to visit her while she worked in the chemical lab, something Ashton had never done.

Jack had apparently lost a ferret while performing surgery on it. He spoke haltingly, explaining that he was hoping to make the ferret speak, but when he had begun the surgery, he discovered a cancerous growth inside her, so he’d stopped and put her to sleep. She only would have had a week of pain and suffering before her, but he still felt quite terrible about it. Cecily saw the red lines circling his eyes and knew his sorrow was genuine. They hadn’t said much after that, but Cecily was touched by Jack’s delicate soul. Usually, he just seemed like a playful boy, without a care in the world, but she knew now that that was just the outer layer. And she was touched that he had come to her, had known instinctively that she was someone who had comfort to give, had seen that she was generous and understanding.

Ashton had never made her feel that way. It was Ashton she was in love with, though. Jack was just a friend. Still, she was beginning to wish that Ashton would reveal a little more of himself, as Jack had done. She would just have to work harder. Most men were not as open as Jack.

Inside the Great Hall, a few students were milling about expectantly, but most were already at lunch. Cecily followed Ernest and Ada to their table, Valentine trailing behind them, fussing with his hair. They were served as soon as they sat down, the servants anxious to please the countess.

“So, Godmother, what will you be speaking on this year?” Ernest asked as lunch was served.

“Don’t bother Aunt Ada with work rightaways like that!” Cecily said. “Ask her how her trip was. How was your trip, Aunt Ada? Was the coach very comfortable?”

“It was fine, Cecily dear,” Ada said with a wry smile. “Thank you for asking.”

“And now,” Cecily continued, with a look at Ernest, “what do you hope to do while here? I hope you and I can talk. I have some things I wish to speak to you about. And I must show you my most recent chemical achievement.”

“It really is quite extraordinary,” Ernest said.

“Miss Cecily promised to make me a birdcage with it,” Valentine said, eager to participate in the conversation.

“I look forward to seeing it,” Ada said, nodding at Cecily. “And I hope to give a lecture to the students on passion in the sciences, and overcoming obstacles.”

“That sounds oddly rousing for you,” Ernest said.

“I have spent too much time in the gambling houses lately, so I didn’t decide on it until day before last,” Ada said. “But I assure you, it will have scientific merit and shan’t lead your dear students astray, Ernest.”

“Of course not,” Ernest said. “I would never expect anything like that.”

“Perhaps the countess would care to play cards with some of the professors after supper tonight?” Valentine said from down the table.

“If I recall correctly, Professor Valentine, none of the professors here are very good card players. Consequently, they’re good for taking money from, but not much else.”

“Perhaps you would find it more interesting if we wagered with more than money?” Valentine asked. The duke cleared his throat.

“I will be here awhile,” Ada said. “I’m sure I shall play cards at some point. But tonight I will be spending with my dear Cecily,” Ada said, patting Cecily’s hand, “and making sure she is up to date on her studies.”

“Of course I am,” Cecily said in protest. Ada smiled at her to make it clear she was teasing. Cecily crossed her arms. “I am a young woman now. I am not to be teased.”

“Of course not,” Ada said, patting Cecily’s hand. Cecily knew Ada was still teasing her, but didn’t care. She was happy to have her there.

Unfortunately, Cecily couldn’t get Ada alone for several hours, as Ernest insisted on touring her through the school she’d seen so many times before. Valentine continued to suggest a card game, and said he would gladly gamble away articles of his clothing instead of currency, which Cecily didn’t understand at all. Ada spent a long while checking the analytical engines and going over some improvement plans that Professor Prism showed her. Cecily didn’t mind waiting for this, as she got to watch Ada correct Prism’s work, make suggestions, point out things that wouldn’t work, and see Prism defer to her in all regards. It was reassuring to see the power Ada wielded simply by being the best in her field.

Finally, after supper, Ada and Cecily retired to the sitting room of the residence, while Ernest went to visit Professor Bunburry, and Miriam vanished for the evening, as she often did. Ada had the servants light a fire in the fireplace, poured herself a glass of brandy, and sat down in the large divan by the fire. Cecily sat in an overstuffed armchair next to her, the one that was so large that her feet didn’t touch the floor unless she leaned forward slightly.

“Now,” Ada said, lying back with a sigh, “what did you want to talk to me about?”

Despite having waited for many hours, Cecily found it difficult to form her question. “Have you ever been in love?” she finally asked. She knew, of course, that Ada had been married, but she also knew that Ada didn’t bear much fondness for her late husband.

Ada grinned slightly, took a sip of her brandy, and lit her cigar. “You don’t mind, do you?” Ada asked, holding up the cigar. Cecily shook her head. She was quite used to Ada’s cigars and, in fact, rather liked them by now. After a moment, Ada said, “Yes, I’ve been in love.”

“How do you know when you’re in love?”

Ada took another sip of brandy to cover her amused expression. “Well, I suppose it varies with each person. Do you think you’re in love?”

“I’m quite sure I’m in love. Or I was. Now I’m less sure.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Ashton Adams. He is a first-year student.”

Ada went pale, then red, then tried to hide a smile behind a cloud of smoke from her cigar. “I don’t think Ashton is the man for you, dear.”

“But I adore him!” Cecily said, feeling a bit annoyed at Ada’s condescending tone. “He’s gentle and sweet and talks to me like I’m an equal and not like I’m just a pretty girl for him to admire.”

“I’m sure he does all that,” Ada said. “But if you once thought you loved him, and now you’re not sure, I think you should realize that that means something.…” She waved her cigar, making lazy smoke circles in the air. “Think of it as a hypothesis, where, after testing the hypothesis, you find it didn’t hold up the way you originally thought.”

“But Ashton has never been anything but what I thought he was. His sister told me that he’s had some bad times, but—”

“You met his sister?” Ada asked.

“Yes. I wanted to meet her, so I convinced Ernest to go with me to their manor over Christmas, remember?”

“I thought you were just going for a drive.”

“To their manor. But Ashton was away.”

“And Ernest, he met the sister as well?”

“Yes. I think he was quite taken with her. They have been writing to each other.”

“Oh,” Ada said, taking a long drink of her brandy. “Well, that’s very nice.”

“I think I’m in love with Ashton. No, I know I’m in love with him. But I don’t think he’s very much in love with me.”

“Perhaps you’re in love with him only because he’s the first boy in this school who hasn’t fallen in love with you on sight.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Auntie,” Cecily said with a wave. “There have been plenty of men here who haven’t given me a second glance.”

“Inverts, probably.”

“Oh, I don’t think Ashton is an invert, if that’s what you mean,” Cecily said. “I just wish I knew how to capture his heart as he has captured mine.”

Ada sighed and sat up straighter. “I have often wished,” she began, as though making a speech, “that love had simple formulaic qualities, like science. A man and a woman of like mind and similar attractiveness could combine, and a chemical reaction would take place: love. But there are no formulae, no guarantees, no science involved.” Ada stopped and poured herself another glass of brandy. She seemed both happy and sad, as though the two emotions were playing tug-o’-war within her.

Cecily found it somewhat worrying, and not at all helpful. “So, I will never know if Ashton loves me?” she asked cautiously.

“Forget Ashton,” Ada said. “That’s the best advice I can give you. As for love … Well, you’ll know when you’re in love. But love comes and goes. You asked me if I’ve ever been in love, and I said yes. Many times, in fact. Most times, though, it faded. As you grow older, it becomes harder to fall in love, but it fades more slowly, too. Forget Ashton. Fall in love with someone else.”

“Oh,” Cecily said, feeling suddenly a bit sad, and perhaps a bit angry. “Who else?”

“I wish I could tell you,” Ada said. “There are plenty of handsome young men in this school who would treat you well. I’m sure, if you think about it, several of them already do.”

“Well, yes,” Cecily said, thinking of Jack, “but I don’t love them.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ada said. “But enough talk of love. Show me the wrench you made with that astonishing formula of yours.”

After Cecily had shown Ada her accomplishments and gone to bed, Ada stayed awake, drinking and smoking and worrying by the fire. The situation at Illyria had become more complex than she anticipated. Ada was usually fairly good at seeing all the possible results of a scenario—it came from working with the analytical engines. But she had not foreseen Cecily’s infatuation. Of course, she should have: they were kindred spirits, Cecily and Violet, girls of the same age. It was only natural that Cecily would identify that and—seeing Violet as a man, and being only sixteen—mistake it for love. If Cecily was correct in her assessment of Ernest’s feelings for Violet, that was … less unexpected. She had secretly been hoping for it, though she hadn’t really expected it to happen until after Violet’s secret was revealed. But Cecily was an unaccounted for variable, and the equation could come out very differently now. If Ernest and Violet did fall in love in the end, and Ernest could see the brilliance in Violet’s deception, then what would happen to dear Cecily? Ada did not want to see her family torn apart by the confusion of love.

But she had nearly finished the bottle of brandy. She pushed herself up from the divan, a little dizzy, crept out of the residence, and down to the reckoning laboratory. The great analytical engines rose around her, tall as houses. She found them soothing, and caressed the metal of their sides. Though drunk, Ada was still the First Reckoner, and it didn’t take her long to create a series of plates, all with possible factors, and run them through the machines. The machines couldn’t really help, of course—she had told Cecily the truth about that. But she found the sound of their internal calculations soothing, as though they told her that in the end, there was a great calculation, that the world was a functioning machine, and she was just a cog in it who couldn’t see the whole thing.

Each equation gave her a different answer, always in numerical form, which she would have to translate back into words. The engine spit out the answers to her three equations: Two. Five. Twenty-nine.

Sighing, Ada crumpled the thin papers the numbers were printed on and threw them into the fire.