The Countess Conspiracy
Page 69
The no-science rule was broken twice, both times with deliberate intent. Once had been an argument over whether seagulls inherited begging behaviors or learned them, a debate that became increasingly ridiculous as they walked along the beach and devised potential experiments for the unsuspecting birds. Luckily for the gulls, neither of them had any desire to perform their experiments, so they purchased ices instead.
The second time was when they passed the ice shop again on their way back to the station. Violet eyed the board listing the flavors as they walked past, and then deliberately asked him whether he thought ice was an admixture or an emulsion before it was frozen.
On the return trip, after the ices had been consumed, her smile faded, giving way to furrowed brows and a look of intense concentration. He didn’t disturb her; he didn’t dare. He conveyed her to her home in Cambridge and left for his own house.
His mood grew solemn. He’d not wanted to think of what might happen. But he didn’t know how people would respond to the coming revelation. He hoped for the best; he feared the worst. If the crowd took this revelation badly, who knew what Violet might be exposed to? He wouldn’t be able to protect her from that, and a little trip to the sea wouldn’t cure that harm.
It was in that somber mood that he set off for the hall. It was summer, and so still light out despite the fact that it was almost eight in the evening. He didn’t arrive at the hall with Violet; he came alone.
The crowds were out in force. It had been years since he’d spoken to even a partially-empty room, and with the way this evening had been advertised, tonight was no exception. There were already over a hundred people outside the lecture hall bearing placards.
Down with Malheur.
God, not evolution.
There were also his supporters. We’re with Malheur proclaimed a large banner carried by a group of Cambridge students.
Sebastian stepped from his coach, and the crowds roared at him.
“Thank you, thank you!” He bowed, tipping his hat with a flourish.
“Miscreant!” a woman shouted, hurling a turnip in his direction. It sailed a good twenty feet, landing on the cobblestones just before him, bouncing once, twice, before rolling the last few inches to tap his shoe.
Sebastian motioned back to his coach. He’d come prepared for this. A footman came and set a barrel on the ground.
“I see many of you have come armed with vegetables,” Sebastian shouted out. “You’ve no doubt heard of my initiative—save your soul, save the poor.”
This brought blank stares.
“If you’ll be so good as to deposit your food in this barrel,” Sebastian informed them, “we’ll see it distributed to the parish poor.”
A potato sailed out of the crowd directly toward his head. Sebastian extended his arm and caught the offending root vegetable before it struck him.
“Precisely like that!” He dropped it in the barrel. “Thank you for your generous contribution.”
“What? What is he saying?” a woman cried.
“But of course, you don’t need my thanks,” Sebastian said. “You’re only doing what every good Christian does—feeding the poor and the hungry.”
He inclined his head once more and then, before they started up again, strode into the lecture hall.
Violet came in a few minutes later. She didn’t look at him; she and her mother were linked arm in arm. Still, he winked in her direction and marched up to the front.
“Jameson,” he said to the white-haired botanist at the front. “You’re doing the introductions today, I presume?”
“Indeed, sir. Will you be wanting the usual?”
“Actually, I thought I’d do the introduction myself.” Sebastian did his best to smile charmingly.
Jameson frowned. “Introduce yourself? That’s…not done. Just not done, sir.”
“Well, then.” Sebastian sighed.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Robert enter the room. He was alone; Minnie didn’t like crowds, and if he remembered correctly, she’d had a bad experience at one of his lectures. Oliver and Jane followed; they’d brought Free with them. They flanked Violet and her mother, sitting in an easy group, smiling with one another.
“Maybe,” Sebastian said, “you might consider a very minimal introduction. Everyone here already knows me. One or two sentences, if you will.”
“Very well, sir.”
After that, there was nothing to do but wait. Wait while the seats filled in. Wait while the clock ticked closer and closer to eight in the evening. Wait a few seconds after that, until the doors closed and the ushers nodded to Jameson that the last stragglers had found their seats.
Jameson shuffled up to the front.
“Tonight’s lecture will be given by Mr. Sebastian Malheur. He needs no introduction, as his discoveries regarding the science of inheritance are known by all. I give you Mr. Malheur.”
Sebastian stood and looked out over the sea of faces. Some were familiar; others he’d never seen before. His lectures had always felt like a secret joke, one that only he and Violet understood. Tonight he felt a sense of gravity, as if his entire life had contracted to a pinpoint. Every one of his jokes had brought him here: onto a stage in front of the entire world, about to announce the truth.
He took a deep breath. His task was easy. All he had to do was point to Violet, and then watch her shine.
He felt as if all his life had brought him to this moment. One sentence from him, and everything would change. He took a deep breath and began.
“This isn’t Mr. Jameson’s fault,” he said in carrying tones, “but every word of that introduction was false. I will not be giving tonight’s lecture.”
A surprised murmur rippled through the crowd.
“I have never made any discoveries about the inheritance of traits, except a trifling piece I presented a short while ago regarding violas. And I am here today for one reason only: to introduce you to the person whom you should have known before now.”
He couldn’t look at Violet, not as he said those words. But he sensed her in the front row. He felt her unease and her hope as keenly as if those emotions were his own. The crowd had gone utterly silent in disbelief.
“I have been given the credit for the work I’ve presented thus far,” he said, “but in fact, my role has been more of a helper, if you will. So let me introduce the individual giving tonight’s lecture. This person did all the research for the work I presented, had the brilliant insights underlying every word I have ever spoken. Excepting, of course, the improper ones.” He grinned. “Those were mine.”
The second time was when they passed the ice shop again on their way back to the station. Violet eyed the board listing the flavors as they walked past, and then deliberately asked him whether he thought ice was an admixture or an emulsion before it was frozen.
On the return trip, after the ices had been consumed, her smile faded, giving way to furrowed brows and a look of intense concentration. He didn’t disturb her; he didn’t dare. He conveyed her to her home in Cambridge and left for his own house.
His mood grew solemn. He’d not wanted to think of what might happen. But he didn’t know how people would respond to the coming revelation. He hoped for the best; he feared the worst. If the crowd took this revelation badly, who knew what Violet might be exposed to? He wouldn’t be able to protect her from that, and a little trip to the sea wouldn’t cure that harm.
It was in that somber mood that he set off for the hall. It was summer, and so still light out despite the fact that it was almost eight in the evening. He didn’t arrive at the hall with Violet; he came alone.
The crowds were out in force. It had been years since he’d spoken to even a partially-empty room, and with the way this evening had been advertised, tonight was no exception. There were already over a hundred people outside the lecture hall bearing placards.
Down with Malheur.
God, not evolution.
There were also his supporters. We’re with Malheur proclaimed a large banner carried by a group of Cambridge students.
Sebastian stepped from his coach, and the crowds roared at him.
“Thank you, thank you!” He bowed, tipping his hat with a flourish.
“Miscreant!” a woman shouted, hurling a turnip in his direction. It sailed a good twenty feet, landing on the cobblestones just before him, bouncing once, twice, before rolling the last few inches to tap his shoe.
Sebastian motioned back to his coach. He’d come prepared for this. A footman came and set a barrel on the ground.
“I see many of you have come armed with vegetables,” Sebastian shouted out. “You’ve no doubt heard of my initiative—save your soul, save the poor.”
This brought blank stares.
“If you’ll be so good as to deposit your food in this barrel,” Sebastian informed them, “we’ll see it distributed to the parish poor.”
A potato sailed out of the crowd directly toward his head. Sebastian extended his arm and caught the offending root vegetable before it struck him.
“Precisely like that!” He dropped it in the barrel. “Thank you for your generous contribution.”
“What? What is he saying?” a woman cried.
“But of course, you don’t need my thanks,” Sebastian said. “You’re only doing what every good Christian does—feeding the poor and the hungry.”
He inclined his head once more and then, before they started up again, strode into the lecture hall.
Violet came in a few minutes later. She didn’t look at him; she and her mother were linked arm in arm. Still, he winked in her direction and marched up to the front.
“Jameson,” he said to the white-haired botanist at the front. “You’re doing the introductions today, I presume?”
“Indeed, sir. Will you be wanting the usual?”
“Actually, I thought I’d do the introduction myself.” Sebastian did his best to smile charmingly.
Jameson frowned. “Introduce yourself? That’s…not done. Just not done, sir.”
“Well, then.” Sebastian sighed.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Robert enter the room. He was alone; Minnie didn’t like crowds, and if he remembered correctly, she’d had a bad experience at one of his lectures. Oliver and Jane followed; they’d brought Free with them. They flanked Violet and her mother, sitting in an easy group, smiling with one another.
“Maybe,” Sebastian said, “you might consider a very minimal introduction. Everyone here already knows me. One or two sentences, if you will.”
“Very well, sir.”
After that, there was nothing to do but wait. Wait while the seats filled in. Wait while the clock ticked closer and closer to eight in the evening. Wait a few seconds after that, until the doors closed and the ushers nodded to Jameson that the last stragglers had found their seats.
Jameson shuffled up to the front.
“Tonight’s lecture will be given by Mr. Sebastian Malheur. He needs no introduction, as his discoveries regarding the science of inheritance are known by all. I give you Mr. Malheur.”
Sebastian stood and looked out over the sea of faces. Some were familiar; others he’d never seen before. His lectures had always felt like a secret joke, one that only he and Violet understood. Tonight he felt a sense of gravity, as if his entire life had contracted to a pinpoint. Every one of his jokes had brought him here: onto a stage in front of the entire world, about to announce the truth.
He took a deep breath. His task was easy. All he had to do was point to Violet, and then watch her shine.
He felt as if all his life had brought him to this moment. One sentence from him, and everything would change. He took a deep breath and began.
“This isn’t Mr. Jameson’s fault,” he said in carrying tones, “but every word of that introduction was false. I will not be giving tonight’s lecture.”
A surprised murmur rippled through the crowd.
“I have never made any discoveries about the inheritance of traits, except a trifling piece I presented a short while ago regarding violas. And I am here today for one reason only: to introduce you to the person whom you should have known before now.”
He couldn’t look at Violet, not as he said those words. But he sensed her in the front row. He felt her unease and her hope as keenly as if those emotions were his own. The crowd had gone utterly silent in disbelief.
“I have been given the credit for the work I’ve presented thus far,” he said, “but in fact, my role has been more of a helper, if you will. So let me introduce the individual giving tonight’s lecture. This person did all the research for the work I presented, had the brilliant insights underlying every word I have ever spoken. Excepting, of course, the improper ones.” He grinned. “Those were mine.”
