“A natural born leader,” Archie said with a grin.
I tapped my finger on my chin as I thought.
“What is it?” Archibald asked.
“Verisimilitude. They have the semblance of life but…”
“But no life. That, Miss Rossetti, is a problem I cannot solve.”
“Nor I. But they are adorable all the same,” I replied, grinning at the little gnomes.
“That they are. But now we have a problem.”
“Which is?”
“We are tied. We finished our wager in tandem.”
“Well, we shall have to think of a new wager.”
At the entrance to the library, a footman coughed politely. “Miss Rossetti, Master Boatswain, they’ve rung for dinner.”
“Heavens,” I said. “We’re late.”
“Then shall we?” Archibald said, offering me his arm.
I took it. Gladly.
When Archie and I arrived in the parlor, I was surprised to find the room full of people. Everyone was milling about, drinks in their hands, and looking as though they were in no rush for dinner. Artisans, tinkers, and philosophers were an easily sidetracked bunch, much to Mister Edwards’ consternation. The butler was waiting at the door for everyone to go through. I could easily imagine him considering how quickly hot food would chill and cold food would warm. The furrowing of his brow suggested my guess wasn’t far from the truth.
“Come, meet my grandfather,” Archie said, leading me to an elderly gentleman sitting by the fire.
“Archibald, my boy. I was wondering where you went,” the old man said, smiling at his grandson.
Master Boatswain, Senior was a sweet looking man, his face deeply lined, his hair a mass of white, wispy strands. He moved to rise, but his grandson motioned for him to stay seated.
“Grandfather, may I present Miss Scarlette Rossetti?”
“Ah, Miss Rossetti. Pleased to meet you. I was just looking for your father.”
“He should arrive by Christmas Eve, sir. He’s just returning from the continent.”
“Very good, very good. Well, Archibald, where were you off to?”
“Miss Rossetti is quite the tinker, Grandfather. She’s constructed the torso of a working automaton.”
The old man gazed at me. “Has she?”
I chuckled. “Master Boatswain makes too much of it, sir. I’m simply helping the local doll maker with a project.”
“Is that so?” Master Boatswain said.
“She underestimates herself, Grandfather,” Archie said then handed his notebook to him.
Master Boatswain pulled his spectacles from his pocket and slipped them on. He studied the notebook pages carefully.
I felt my cheeks grow redder and redder. I felt like a toddler at the knee of a giant. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s really nothing. Just a simple design.”
“Miss Rossetti, where did you get the idea for this model?” Master Boatswain asked.
“Oh,” I said, feeling more than a little intimidated. Surely, I hadn’t done anything all that clever. “From this,” I said. I dug into my pocket and pulled out a copy of the advertisement of the piano playing doll. I handed the paper to the master tinker.
Master Boatswain, Senior nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve seen this design. Eckhart?” he asked his grandson.
“Adamson, I think. The American. His work is rudimentary; it’s all up and down,” the younger Boatswain said, imitating a simple movement. “Miss Rossetti has sophisticated his work. Joints, fluid moves, elevated clockwork. On another level,” Archie said, pointing to sections of the design where I’d formed the shoulders and wrists on the gnome’s clockwork skeleton.
Grinning happily, the old man handed the advertisement back to me. “Well done, Miss Rossetti. You’ve improved upon clockwork design thirty years in the making.”
“Surely you jest, Master Boatswain.”
“Not at all.”
Mister Edwards, who had disappeared into the dining room for a few moments, reappeared at the door once more. He rang his bell—again—calling us for dinner.
“Ladies and gentleman,” Uncle Horace called. “I hate to disrupt such lively conversation, but I’m afraid my butler will go into a full rebellion if we delay much longer.”
Archibald offered his arm to his grandfather, helping him up. The old man balanced himself with his cane and moved slowly toward the dining room. We adjourned within, the footmen guiding us to our seats. To my great disappointment, Archie and his grandfather were seated at the opposite end of the table from myself. Archie gave me a soft smile.
“See you later, partner,” he said.
I grinned at him then went to my seat beside Uncle Horace.
“And where have you been?” Uncle Horace asked as I settled in beside him.
“The library. Master Boatswain III and I were working on a project.”
“Is that right?” Uncle Horace asked, his eyes glancing over my face. I saw a mischievous twinkle in his gaze.
My cheeks flushed red. “I wanted to show him a bit of clockwork I’d been playing with.”
“Hmm,” Uncle Horace mused. “Well, that’s very good. Very good indeed. Fine family, the Boatswains. Can’t see your father having any objection to that.”
“Really, Uncle Horace, we were just talking,” I said, but my stomach was unsettled by nervous butterflies.
Uncle Horace laughed. “That’s how it always begins, my dear. With lots and lots of talking.”
I glanced toward Archie. He and his grandfather were looking at Archibald’s notes on my creation.
Had I really invented something…unique?
The dinner passed quickly. Conversations on art, music, philosophy, clockwork, airships, and tinkering swirled around me, a delight for the mind. Uncle Horace was deep in a conversation on Gothic architecture with the man seated on his other side when the dessert trifle was served. I ate quickly then looked for a reason to excuse myself. At ordinary homes, ladies and gentlemen would separate after dinner, but this was not such a house. Even after dinner was over, everyone lingered, the ladies and gentlemen mixing together to talk as they pleased.
Uncle Horace soon left me to join another pair further down the table.
Sensing my escape, I slipped out a side door and headed back to the library where my gnomes waited. I needed to return to the doll shop first thing in the morning to work on the porcelain piano-playing doll. It was far too busy at Strawberry Hill for me to be gallivanting about Twickenham. Not to mention, my father would arrive soon.
I repacked the box of clockwork parts, the basket of extra sewing bits and bobs, and was about to set the gnomes back in the basket when I heard voices coming down the hallway.
I turned to find Archie and his grandfather.
“I told you we would find her here,” Archie said.
His grandfather smiled. “I’ve come to see your automaton, Miss Rossetti.”
I motioned to the gnome. “Here he is.”
The elder Boatswain chuckled. “Gnomes indeed. I almost didn’t believe you, Archie.”
Taking the windup key, I wound the little gnome who began moving at once.
Master Boatswain, Senior nodded as he watched it move. “As you said. Very fluid. Still need movement in the legs, but she has the balance right. Remarkable.”
“Master Boatswain, are you jesting?” I asked the renowned tinker. “It’s just a doll. And sadly, quite lifeless.”
“Oh, well, that’s an easy problem to remedy. Your gnomes have no hearts, you see.”
“Hearts?”
Master Boatswain dipped into his pocket and produced…a stone.