Chapter 11 Kitty
The stars are the land-marks of the universe.
WILLIAM HERSCHEL
When the morning sun broke through my bedroom window, I rolled over in bed and glanced at my desk, the memory of last night returning in full.
Sebastian had agreed to post my letters to Hyderabad, formal messages addressed to the residency and palace, requesting information regarding my mother or any other family remaining.
His nod was as reassuring as the discreet way he’d tucked the bundle into his coat, as though safeguarding my secrets was second nature.
Last night, I had raced to gather my latest letters, scooping what I could find out of the box tucked beneath my bed.
My plan was to avoid Aunt, who insisted on reading each letter I drafted . . . until I bumped into Sebastian.
I had to know who’d written to Edward and me. And I had drafted responses as formal as could be, explaining my inability to communicate as freely as I wished. Could the letters be sent to the bookstore so that Grandfather would intercept them no more?
I had scarcely begun to second-guess the wisdom of involving Sebastian in my clandestine mission when Aunt bustled into my room with a cheery “You’ll want your best walking boots, dearest. The Herschels’ observatory has an uneven path.”
From the hallway beyond, I heard Edward’s voice and Grandfather’s authoritative tone. Lord Chudley, it seemed, had arranged an afternoon visit to the astronomers’ home—and Grandfather, not to be outdone, had promptly added Sebastian, Edward, and Aunt to the party without so much as consulting me.
Of course he had. What better way to remind me that I was merely one part of a much grander scheme?
The morning hours passed quickly, my anticipation building for Lord Chudley’s arrival. The earl offered a bow when he greeted me that afternoon. For this occasion, I no longer appeared the spinster with a dull maroon gown. I wore something prettier, the color of rose.
Lord Chudley smiled when he took in my apparel. “Charming, Miss Grenville. Very charming.”
But that smile faded visibly when Sebastian joined our group, dressed once more in the latest fashion. Unlike my brother and Lord Chudley’s dramatic attire, Sebastian’s choices remained somber. A gray coat, pale cream trousers tucked into Hessian boots. And that tousled hair . . .
The ride to the Herschel home proved tense with both men eyeing each other.
“I did not know you were a student of astronomy, Mr. Sinclair,” the young lord said with a tight smile.
“I am not,” Sebastian answered.
“Mr. Sinclair is a man of action.” I couldn’t resist prodding. “He prefers swords to books.”
“I’m well aware, after our encounter at Master Angelo’s studio,” Lord Chudley said.
A strange look passed between them, one I could not decipher.
“I do hope you’ll enjoy the Herschels. I’ve heard he likes nothing more than to ramble about his discoveries,” Lord Chudley said after a pause.
“I can’t imagine enjoying anything more,” I promised.
To my surprise, Sebastian’s jaw tightened. Did he tire of accompanying me to scientific households? Or was something else bothering him?
Upon entering the observatory, a petite woman with graying hair greeted us—Miss Caroline Herschel. Though diminutive, she fluttered about like a hummingbird, while her brother, William Herschel, presented a stark contrast—a calm presence with his white hair swept back from a craggy face.
Introductions were made quickly.
As for me, I could hardly refrain from blurting, “Miss Herschel, I’ve read about your discovery of the comet in 1786. Could you share how you determined its path? I’ve often wondered how astronomers distinguish a comet’s motion from that of the background stars.”
A smile tugged at Miss Herschel’s lips as she motioned for us to follow her down the hall. “It’s rare to meet a young lady so genuinely interested in astronomy. Most come for the thrill of novelty, but you, Miss Grenville—you care about what lies beyond.”
From the corner of my eye, I caught Sebastian’s faint grin, though he quickly schooled his expression. Cheeky fellow. Was he thinking of the bluestocking salon I had dragged him to?
Through the narrow hallway, we entered the Herschels’ observatory, a domed room at the rear of the house.
The tall brass telescope stood at its center, angled toward the heavens, its polished surface catching the candlelight.
Star charts and instruments covered nearby tables, while bookshelves bowed under the weight of celestial atlases and observation logs.
Lord Chudley tilted his head, as if perplexed by the exchange between Miss Herschel and me. “Comets? You’ve published, Miss Herschel? I assumed you only assisted Mr. Herschel.”
“I have my own studies,” Miss Herschel said, her voice brisk but tinged with pride. “As for the comet of 1786, it was not an immediate realization, I must confess. Detecting motion against the stars requires patience.”
She gestured toward the telescope, its polished brass gleaming.
“I first noted the object as a faint, misty patch—what one might mistake for a small nebula or unresolved cluster of stars. But over the course of several nights, I observed its motion against the backdrop of fixed stars, and there was no doubt. Its trajectory betrayed it.”
Pausing, she folded her hands neatly before her.
“The difficulty lies in ensuring one’s instruments are properly calibrated.
A poorly aligned telescope could mislead even the sharpest observer.
My brother and I spent many evenings fine-tuning our devices to ensure such errors did not occur.
Observing the sky, Miss Grenville, is as much about discipline as it is discovery.
Once I was certain, I charted the comet’s path with as much precision as the data allowed.
Watching it trace its arc across the heavens was .
. . a privilege I cannot quite put into words.
The thrill of finding something new, something unseen, is one I hope you will experience for yourself someday. ”
“If I could take a ship and sail it to the moon and beyond, I would do it!” I answered. “Imagine the worlds and celestial bodies that lie far beyond our own. Would you think it strange that I imagine myself walking on the moon?”
Miss Herschel’s eyes lit with amusement. “Strange? Not in the least, Miss Grenville. Imagination is the spark of all great discoveries. But until such ships are built, the telescope remains our vessel to the stars.” She gestured toward a finely crafted instrument positioned near the window.
Then she leaned in and whispered to me. “Besides, my brother insists there is life on the sun and far beyond.”
I swallowed a giggle.
“This refracting telescope,” she began again, resting her hand on the polished brass tube, “is modest compared to our grand instrument in Slough, but it serves us well. It is three feet in length and fitted with a lens capable of magnifying up to two hundred times. Small, yes, but its power should not be underestimated. Later tonight, if the weather allows, we may glimpse Jupiter and its moons or even Saturn’s rings. ”
The tripod, crafted from rich mahogany, gleamed under the candlelight. Its height was adjustable, the brass fittings catching the light as she adjusted it slightly to demonstrate.
With great reluctance, I left the telescope behind to dine with my hosts over a table set with polished silver and roast lamb. Lord Chudley offered witty remarks, Aunt praised every course, and the Herschels shared reflections that held even Edward’s attention.
Earlier, we had toured the observatory briefly, viewing the smaller instruments Miss Herschel and her brother used for demonstrations and learning about their work.
But she’d promised something more spectacular after dinner—the opportunity to observe the night sky through their large telescope, should the weather permit.
The memory of that towering instrument, standing silent and waiting, sent a thrill through me.
I had barely touched my plate. I couldn’t help but steal a glance in Sebastian’s direction, finding him deep in conversation with Mr. Herschel about some far-off battle in India. I strained to hear more, reminded again of how much he knew of my birthplace.
Lord Chudley leaned closer to me, drawing my attention back to him. “You seem positively alight tonight, Miss Grenville,” he murmured with an approving smile. “I daresay the company suits you. How glad I am that you joined me today.”
I returned his smile, though my heart fluttered with impatience for the true reason I was here.
After the last course was cleared, Miss Herschel stood, clasping her hands together. “If the company is agreeable,” she said with a small smile, “I believe it is time we kept our promise to Miss Grenville and returned to the observatory.”
I could hardly keep my excitement in check as I walked with the others through the narrow hallway that connected the dining room to the observatory.
The earlier tour had been fascinating, but I was eager to see the telescope in action.
By the time we reached the vast, domed room, I felt almost weightless, like a feather drifting toward something magnificent.
Inside, the polished brass telescope dominated the room, angled toward the heavens as if reaching for the stars, surrounded by stacks of charts, instruments, and intricate sketches of celestial bodies that hinted at long nights of study and the Herschels’ unmatched dedication.
Miss Herschel led us again through the space, her questions directed largely at me as if testing my knowledge. With every answer, her expression brightened, and I savored her approval.
She ushered me forward before the men. “Would you like to try the telescope, Miss Grenville?”
“More than anything.” I reached for its cool surface, but just as I leaned in to peer through the lens, I felt someone brush close.