Chapter 20
Concerning a Great Exhibition, a Hot-Air Balloon (not Puff Balloon), Plaid-Clad Cocks, Pink Fountains, Lemonade, and Leeches…
“Unfortunately, another maid has left in the night without a word, Your Grace,” announced Woodley in doleful tones.
Xavier scowled at his own reflection in the full-length bedchamber mirror. That would make the third in two weeks. Damn it.
Xavier’s valet, Babcock, made a tsking sound. “Flighty things,” he said, adjusting Xavier’s necktie. “A few flickering lights and they flee like startled rabbits. It’s quite ridiculous if you ask me.”
“Mrs. Lambton suspects at least half the female staff members think it’s the St Lawrence House Ghost who’s responsible,” said Woodley. “So yes, it’s quite ridiculous if not outright irrational behavior. There’s no accounting for the foolishness of females.”
“I think that’s a gross exaggeration and oversimplification,” said Xavier gruffly. “Take Mrs. Chase and Mrs. Lambton for instance. They are far from foolish or irrational.”
“My apologies, Your Grace,” said Woodley. “You are quite right. There are exceptions to every rule.”
Xavier gave an internal eyeroll. He knew from experience that changing the butler’s mind about women was as futile as trying to plug a whale-sized hole in a tugboat.
It was time to steer the conversation back on course.
Considering Xavier had been avoiding Mrs. Chase lately—keeping her at arm’s length seemed the sensible thing to do since their late-night tryst a fortnight ago—he’d been garnering his intelligence about any odd goings-on within the walls of St Lawrence House in other ways.
“Is there any news on what’s wrong with the gas lighting? ”
Woodley sighed heavily. “I’m afraid not, Your Grace. The man from the gasworks company reported that there’s nothing wrong with the lines inside or outside the house. It’s all a bit of a mystery.”
“It’s a dashed nuisance, that’s what it is,” grumbled Xavier.
He picked up his cold cup of morning coffee from the dressing table, then set it aside with a grimace.
At this rate, there’d be no servants left at St Lawrence House by Christmas.
Not only that, but it looked like he’d be working by candlelight to get the Westminster clock design completed in time for the first of June deadline.
He really couldn’t afford to waste precious time worrying about yet another raft of domestic disasters. Especially not today.
It was the first of May, and at long last, the Great Exhibition at Hyde Park was opening to great fanfare.
Xavier’s superbly accurate electromechanical clock was installed in the Crystal Palace—in fact his “Queen of Clocks” had pride of place at the entrance of the enormous glass pavilion—and he was filled with both pride and nervous anticipation.
If Her Majesty and Prince Albert marveled at his latest invention, then the Astronomer Royal would have to take note.
Xavier might even be in the running to win a Council Medal for innovation or one of the many Prize Medals for craftsmanship.
That sort of recognition certainly couldn’t hurt when Xavier’s unique design for the Westminster clock was considered.
That was the plan at any rate. And then perhaps Sir Randolph Redvers wouldn’t be strutting about the next Royal Horological Society meeting like a plaid-clad cock o’ the walk.
When Babcock stopped fussing over Xavier’s attire, a Savile Row black suit paired with a silver-gray silk waistcoat and a black silk topper—the valet had insisted the Duke of St Lawrence must look his best for such a grand occasion—Xavier descended to the entry hall below.
As per his request, he found Mrs. Chase waiting with his wards.
Fanny the under-nurserymaid, and the two footmen, Bertie and Ollie, were also in attendance.
Even Horatio was present. The only one absent was Mrs. Chase’s father, Edward; Woodley had informed Xavier that the man was poorly this morning.
Xavier would send for his own personal physician if the man’s condition didn’t improve soon.
Xavier glanced at the nanny. She looked a little wan, too, come to think of it. Perhaps she was worried about her father. He would ask her how she was feeling in a quiet moment.
Turning to his wards, he greeted Harry, Bartholomew, and Gareth in turn. “Are we all excited about attending the Great Exhibition?” he asked. “I can see you’re all in your very best attire.”
“We are beyond excited, Cousin Xavier,” declared Harry.
Behind her glasses, her brown eyes were alight with unfettered enthusiasm.
“I cannot wait to see all the latest scientific inventions and the Crystal Palace itself. The Times mentioned that it’s three times longer than St Paul’s Cathedral, ten stories high, and there’s a fountain made of four tons of pink glass!
” She lifted up a Great Exhibition guidebook and pencil.
“I’m going to make notes about everything.
I also have a list of things I most want to see. ”
“I want to see the dinosaurs,” said Bartholomew, bouncing on his toes. “And the Queen.”
“Nanny Chase says there’ll be a puff balloon,” said Gareth. “Can I go flying in it?”
“Up, up, and away,” crowed Horatio from the gas chandelier above their heads.
Mrs. Chase laughed. “While I believe there will be a hot-air balloon at the Exhibition’s opening—at least according to the newspapers—I’m not sure if His Grace knows the answer to your question about riding in it, Gareth,” she said.
“But I’m certain there will be plenty of other things to marvel at.
Scientific inventions, dinosaurs, and the Queen at the very least. And of course, His Grace’s magnificent Queen of Clocks. ”
Xavier’s cheeks grew unaccountably hot at receiving the young woman’s praise.
To cover his discomfiture, he checked his pocket watch—it was a quarter to ten—and suggested that they all get going to make sure they arrived in time.
While Hyde Park wasn’t that far away, Xavier had heard that a crowd of over twenty-five thousand was expected.
Once they’d trooped outside to where a matching pair of ducal town coaches awaited, Xavier approached Mrs. Chase.
“I’d like you and the children to travel with me,” he said.
“I know I shouldn’t worry so much, but in light of recent events, I’d feel better if you all stayed close.
” It wasn’t a complete fib. Then again, if he were honest with himself, he would acknowledge his eyes were yearning to surreptitiously feast upon the woman.
The nanny dipped into a curtsy. “Of course, Your Grace.”
Even though Mrs. Chase’s cheeks were paler than usual, Xavier thought she looked particularly fetching today.
She was attired in her regulation Parasol Academy uniform of a navyblue wool gown, but instead of wearing a snow-white cotton pinafore, she was sporting a navy shoulder cape trimmed with black, military-style frogging and a matching bonnet tied with black silk ribbons beneath her pert chin.
Rather than her umbrella, she carried a dark-blue parasol trimmed with frothy white lace.
As far as he could tell, she wasn’t wearing one of her hideous caps. Although if there was one hidden beneath her bonnet, he supposed she had to wear it because she was out in public, representing the Academy.
Once they were all installed in one of the town coaches—along with Horatio, who’d decided to perch on Xavier’s shoulder—Xavier regaled his wards with a brief summary of the morning’s proceedings and what they could expect to see.
“As Nanny Chase mentioned, there will be a hot-air balloon launch at eleven o’clock sharp.
And then the Queen and Prince Albert will be arriving at noon.
I hear there will be a cannon salute and a choir, and once all the official business is over, you’ll be able to explore all the exhibits.
I believe there’s over one hundred thousand items on display,” said Xavier.
“One hundred thousand,” breathed Bartholomew. “Gosh, I can’t even count to a hundred yet.”
Young Gareth screwed his nose up. “I can only count to ten,” he said, then proceeded to demonstrate his skill by counting his small fingers.
“I want to visit the machinery room most of all,” said Harry.
“I’d especially like to see Dr. Merryweather’s tempest prognosticator, which uses leeches to forecast the weather, and the velocipede—it has wheels and pedals and you can ride on it.
Oh, and there are daguerreotypes of the actual moon!
” She held up her notebook. “See. They are all on my list.”
Xavier laughed. “I don’t think we’ll have time to see everything that’s on display in one day, but Nanny Chase and I will endeavor to show you as much as we can.”
“We will indeed,” agreed the nanny. “As long as all three of you promise to be on your best behavior while the official proceedings take place. I don’t want to witness any unruly shenanigans, especially when Her Majesty arrives.”
“We promise. We promise,” all three children chorused in unison.
“That goes for you too, Horatio,” said Mrs. Chase sternly as she pointed at the raven. “And you are not to go anywhere near Dr. Merryweather’s leeches. I saw that gleam in your eyes when Harry mentioned them.”
To Xavier’s surprise, his raven tilted his head as though in acquiescence. “Yes, Nanny Chase,” he cawed. “Whatever you say, Nanny Chase.”
“Good,” said Mrs. Chase with a firm nod. She sat back in her seat and sat primly with her parasol across her lap.
No doubt she had to be on her best behavior too.
It was Xavier’s understanding that Queen Victoria had once employed Mrs. Felicity Temple, the headmistress of the Parasol Academy, and that’s why the college had been awarded a Royal Charter.
It would reflect badly on the Parasol Academy if one of their nannies couldn’t effectively manage the behavior of her charges.