Master Boatswain smiled at me. “Gallivant about? Hmm. Interesting occupation, and also a very vague answer. Gallivant anywhere in particular?”
“The bakery. The church. The Christmas market. Oh, and I do enjoy talking with Laura and Lizzie Gabriel. They’re the doll makers at The Two Sisters Doll Shop and Toy Emporium. They’re older ladies, twins, and quite talented.”
“Talented at getting your money,” Uncle Horace said.
I chuckled. “Uncle Horace,” I said playfully. “They’re delightful women. I’ve also befriended a local family. Since you’re in the giving mood, Uncle Horace, I was wondering if you have need of a maid? There is a woman in the village whose husband has died, and she and her family have fallen on hard times. She’s very kind and hardworking. She has three children and is in need of a helping hand. Do you have an opening?”
“Sounds more like Miss Rossetti has taken up the work of alms-giving more than gallivanting about,” Master Boatswain said, passing me a knowing look.
Clever man. I grinned at him.
Uncle Horace sat back in his seat and straightened his waistcoat. “I’m not sure. Mister Edwards, are we in want of help?” he called to the butler who was waiting discreetly nearby.
“Yes, Earl Walpole. We are in need of a maid and a footman.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Mister Edwards coughed uncomfortably.
“Ah, I see,” Uncle Horace said with a light chuckle. Apparently, the Hawkings weren’t the only ones who were distractible. “Put out an advertisement for the footman, Mister Edwards. And please have the housekeeper interview Miss Rossetti’s friend…”
“Missus Annabeth Buckingham,” I said.
Uncle Horace nodded. “Hire her if she is even remotely qualified.”
“Yes, sir,” Mister Edwards said.
I smiled at Mister Edwards.
He passed me a playful wink.
Feeling excited to tell Annabeth the good news, I celebrated by diving into my plate, relishing my victory one bite of fruit tart at a time.
When the tea service was done, Uncle Horace and Master Boatswain turned their attention to the sketch of the plumbing. And while my good opinion of Master Boatswain had only increased as tea had gone on, and although I’d very much like to linger more, I had my own work to do.
“Uncle, Master Boatswain, will you please excuse me?” I asked. “I have a small project that needs my attention.”
Both men rose.
“Never idle. Never idle,” Uncle Horace said. “When your father asked me if you could stay, I imagined you by the fire embroidering all autumn. He didn’t tell me you were as bored with idleness as I am.
“And haven’t we gotten along marvelously as a result?”
“That we have.”
“Master Boatswain,” I said, bobbing a little curtsey.
“Miss Rossetti,” he replied, inclining his head toward me. He gave me a soft smile.
My heart made a little leap at the twinkle in his eyes.
Grinning to myself, I exited the parlor and headed down the narrow hallways to the library. The library at Strawberry Hill was beyond divine. The walls were white and had set-in bookshelves. Each bookshelf was trimmed with ornate moulding that reminded me of lace and looked more like it belonged on a church window than in a stately home. The stained glass on the windows cast blobs of colorful light on the ceiling above which was dotted with elaborate mosaics. The staff had lit the fireplace. The room had a cheery glow. I went to the long table at the center of the room and began unpacking my gnomes, the clockwork pieces, and the sewing tools on loan from Laura and Lizzie.
As I looked at the little gnomes, I remembered my encounter in the woods. The strange merchants had worn clothes quite similar to my gnomes. Odd. I hoped they had moved on. My encounter with the traveling merchants had unnerved me. Part of me felt like I’d narrowly escaped harm. But maybe I was making too much of it. Slogging off the encounter, I settled in to work once more.
Chapter 3: Archibald Boatswain III
I don’t know how much time had passed, or how long he had been watching me, but I suddenly became aware of the presence of someone looking over my shoulder.
“Oh,” I exclaimed, turning to look.
Master Boatswain III chuckled. “I’m terribly sorry. I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t interrupt you.”
“Have you been here awhile?”
“Long enough,” he said then pointed to the left arm. “Two more turns on that screw should do it, I think.”
I followed Master Boatswain’s suggestion, making the adjustment, then slid the device carefully into the body of the gnome. Grabbing the windup key, I gave it a turn.
Finally. Finally. The arms moved with grace as if he were playing the piano.
“What a delicate movement. Is he conducting?” Archibald asked.
“He’s playing the piano. He’s a prototype for a doll I need to make.”
“A doll you need to make?”
I grinned. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Most enthusiastically.”
“I’ve been apprenticing with the doll makers in Twickenham. I’m helping them with a commission. Someone ordered a doll that can sit and play a piano. I have the piano worked out; it’s just a modified music box, but getting the doll’s arms to move in a delicate manner was giving me fits.”
“Well done, Miss Rossetti. It looks like you have it. How very kind of you to help the doll makers.”
“I enjoy the work. There’s something exciting about doing such fine, detailed craft.”
Master Boatswain laughed as he pulled up a seat beside me. “You don’t have to tell me that. It’s an ingenious invention.”
I realized then that he’d been holding a notebook. He set it down in front of me, turning it so I could see. At the top, he had written The Scarlette Automaton. Underneath, he had noted the date and my full name beside the word, Tinker. Underneath, he’d sketched the clockwork design I’d used for the gnome. “You are appropriately credited,” he said.
Tinker. Me? “Why my first name? The Scarlette Automaton.”
“I thought it sounded poetic.”
I chuckled. “Maybe a touch sinister.”
“Perhaps. But I don’t detect anything sinister about you, Miss Rossetti. Am I missing something?”
“Only time will reveal that.”
Archibald lifted one of the gnomes. “What a funny creature,” he said. The little gnome he was holding was wearing a fox pelt for a hat, red shorts with suspenders, and a patchwork shirt. “What do you intend to do with the rest of them?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve fussed with this gentleman so long, I didn’t think about what to do with the others.”
“Hmm,” Master Boatswain mused. “Well, clearly, your clockwork gnome is the leader. He’s the conductor. Let’s give him some accompaniment. We’ll assign music to these four,” he said, setting three of the gnomes beside the gnome I had already tinkered. “As for these brothers, let’s make them usefuclass="underline" one for sewing, one for cutting cloth, one for painting, and the last for hair and makeup. Sound about right?”
I chuckled. “Make mechanicals out of all of them? I’ll never have time to accomplish it by dinner.”
Archibald started digging in the basket of decorative bits and bobs I’d borrowed from the sisters. “I agree that there’s no time to tinker, but we have plenty of time to give the others a festive flair.” From the trimmings basket, he pulled out a tiny toy drum, a gold-painted wooden trumpet, a miniature harp, and a flute. I recognized the pieces. They were leftover bits from a wreath the sisters had made. He also removed red and green ribbons and silk holiday flowers and berries.