Chapter Twenty #2
“Thank you, but that will not be necessary,” she replied. “I only now comprehended, with this talk of secrecy, that there might be people about who would learn of our scheme. Perhaps we ought not to be so open about our visits.”
“A good thought, a very good thought,” Mr. Mendel scratched his cheek and Mr. Gardiner pinched his lips together.
“Lizzy shall come by my warehouse,” Mr. Gardiner declared after some thought.
“That is nothing unremarkable, for it is her habit when she comes to visit in search of presents for her family. From there, I have any number of carts and wagons arriving and departing throughout the day, to all distant parts of London. If one of those should carry my niece in some sort of disguise—even a gentleman’s hat and great coat would do—then no one would be the wiser. ”
“Likewise,” Darcy added, “I often walk to my club, and there are carts and wagons coming to the back entrance to bring food and drink and on occasion, entertainers,” he stopped short.
“That is, musicians and actors, nothing less proper than that!” He looked around in horror at what they might have thought.
“I can depart on one of those and then find a hack to convey me the rest of the distance once I am sufficiently removed from my accustomed part of town.”
This was all deemed to be an excellent plan, and so the engagement was made for the following morning, to convene at the clockmaker’s workshop, there to begin to build a code machine.
Mr. Mendel’s workshop was a place of marvels and amusement, a paradoxical jumble of chaos and order.
Three large windows illuminated the space, before each of which sat a long table, the better to catch the brightest light.
The tables were strewn with a bewildering assortment of tools and pots of paint and magnifying glasses and trays of springs and cams and flywheels, as well as clocks small and large, in varying stages of completion.
The remaining wall space was filled with shelves and tall cabinets of tiny drawers, much like an apothecary might have, each labelled in a meticulous hand, describing what was contained within.
Along the expanse of the interior wall sat a small forge, also surrounded by a plethora of tools and unfamiliar implements, and set beside it was a worktable with some pieces of metal that would, Darcy imagined, one day become the inner pieces of clocks or delicate bird wings or elaborate cases in which to house whatever creations the artisan saw fit to render.
Not knowing where to look first, Darcy cast his eyes all over the sizeable space.
There were examples of Mr. Mendel’s craft everywhere.
Larger pieces were scattered around the room, some on the floor if they were of a suitable size, some on small stands and tables.
Darcy was drawn at first to a globe very much like the one Mr. Gardiner had shown him the previous evening, but his attention was soon captured by a remarkable life-sized figurine of a young woman seated at a keyboard, a wistful smile painted upon her porcelain face.
“My wife requested me to make this one,” Mr. Mendel’s voice interrupted Darcy’s wonderment.
“Allow me, if you please, sir.” He shuffled to the figurine and wound some mechanism under her gown at her back, then stepped aside to watch his guest. Darcy stood, curious, as nothing happened for a moment, and then gasped in astonishment as the figure began to move.
At first she seemed merely to be breathing, her chest rising and falling regularly under her gown, and her head swaying gently upon her neck as her eyes roved across the room.
“Attend, sir,” the clockmaker winked, and Darcy found himself quite lost in astonishment, for at the moment, the artificial woman’s fingers began to move up and down upon the keys before her.
“By Jove!” he gasped. He knew this piece, this short air that his sister had played many years before when first she was learning the pianoforte.
He swung his head around towards Mr. Mendel, who gestured with a hand, inviting Darcy to approach the fantastic machine.
The counterfeit pianist’s fingers were moving up and down, striking the keys, which produced their tones.
This was no music box with pins on a rotating cylinder and metal teeth on a tiny comb, but a complicated and sophisticated piece of machinery that actually played the keyboard.
Darcy touched one of the keys and the discordant note sounded with the melody the automaton was performing.
He felt his eyes must be as wide as saucers, and surely his mouth hung agape. “By Jove!” he repeated, “This is the most astounding thing I have ever been privileged to see. It is remarkable, miraculous, even. You are a genius. There is no other word for it!”
The clockmaker shuffled his feet and looked down at the ground before him.
“That is very kind, sir, but I am just a tinkerer with some small ability. If the results of my labours bring joy to people, then I am satisfied.” These were not mere words, Darcy knew by the tone of his voice, but his real sentiments.
Such humility, he knew, was not rare in one of extreme talent; it was the second-rate poseurs who trumpeted self-importance wherever they went, and his respect for Mr. Mendel grew.
“My compliments, Mr. Mendel,” was all he could respond before a knock at the door brought Elizabeth and Mr. Gardiner into the remarkable workshop.
Lizzy carried with her a man’s top hat and great coat; her uncle carried a large tattered shawl and straw bonnet, which had clearly been his disguise.
Darcy raised his brows in surprise but said nothing.
It was evident by their familiarity that both had been here before, and the conversation very quickly turned to the specific task at hand.
Darcy had brought his extensive array of drawings, and these were soon spread across the surface of one of the sunlit tables.
The clockmaker pored over them, hemming and hawing, bending down to examine an area more closely, asking a question about this section or that, until quite some time had elapsed.
“Well,” he said at last. “Well, indeed! You also have great skill, Mr. Darcy, for these drawings are quite complete. You have an understanding of matters mechanical, as well as a careful and precise hand. I do believe I have what I require to recreate what you reduced here to pencil lines on paper. An interesting task. Most interesting indeed. I shall not be at a loss for something with which to occupy my time. No, indeed! Mrs. Mendel may well regret her comments that must find employment, for I believe she will not see me these next several days, weeks even. Most fascinating indeed!”