I should not be doing this, she thought even as she stepped out of her room. Her wrap looked ghostly pale in the dim light, and she began to feel a little nervous until her fingers were taken in a firm, warm grasp.
‘It will be easier if I hold on to you,’ he whispered. ‘Follow me.’
He led her through the gallery and into the east wing, where a long corridor brought them to a door.
‘My workshop,’ Adversane told her. ‘There are stairs to the roof in the far corner.’
She followed him into the room. He placed the lanthorn down on a table, and Lucy looked around her. A large cupboard filled one wall. She had seen something similar once before—a cabinet of curiosities, it was called, and it could be filled with all sorts of odd things, from antiquities to rare books and stuffed animals, whatever caught the owner’s interest. How she would love to come and explore here in daylight! Reluctantly, she turned away and spotted a large circular stone on the table by the lanthorn. She picked it up, turning it so that the feeble rays of the lamp showed her that it was formed like a coiled snake.
‘That is a fossil,’ he said, coming up. ‘An ammonite, sometimes called a serpent stone. It is the petrified remains of a creature that lived in the very distant past.’
‘Oh, I have heard of these,’ cried Lucy. ‘Is this not evidence of the flood, as it is told in the Bible?’
‘Some might believe that.’
‘But you do not?’
‘I think this might be evidence of much older life forms.’
‘Really? But I thought someone—a clergyman—had calculated the exact age of the earth.’
‘I am a product of the Enlightenment, Miss Halbrook. I believe in logic and need to be convinced by reasoned argument and experiment. There are a great many theories on the origins and age of the earth, and much work yet to be done to prove them.’
‘But surely not everything can be explained by reason and logic, my lord.’
‘Not yet, perhaps, but one day. The Royal Society’s own motto is “Nullius in verba” which means “take no man’s word for it”. A good maxim, I think.’ He picked up the lanthorn and held it out to her. ‘Time is going on. We must take the telescope up to the roof. Can you light the way?’
He ushered her across the room to a door that opened onto a flight of stairs. Indicating that she should precede him with the lamp, he shouldered the large brass instrument and followed her. The stairs were steep and narrow, and it was as much as Lucy could do to hold up her skirts and keep the light steady. At last she reached the top and opened the door to find herself upon the roof. Outside the starlight was faint, but bright enough to make the lamp unnecessary. It was possible to make out a flat walkway around the perimeter of the building, and Lucy was relieved to note that it was edged by a sturdy stone balustrade.
Ralph stepped in front of her and strode off, leaving Lucy to follow as best she might. They soon reached a small platform, where Lord Adversane set the telescope upon its tripod and began to angle it towards the sky. She put down the lamp and watched him.
‘Mercury and Venus are only visible at twilight,’ he said, turning back to her. ‘But there is a good view of Saturn tonight, and I shall be able to show you the major constellations.’
‘I know some,’ she said, looking upwards. ‘There, that is Ursa Major, is it not, leading to the North Star? Papa taught me that. He said if I knew which way was north I would always be able to find my way home.’ She laughed. ‘Not that I have ever needed to do so. As I told you, my lord, this is the farthest from London I have ever travelled.’
‘And would you like to travel more, Miss Halbrook?’
‘Oh, yes. When the war is over I would love to go to the Continent, especially Naples and Rome.’
‘To do the grand tour, perhaps?’
‘Oh, no, I shall not have that much money, but what you are paying me for being here will be a good start to my savings—’ She broke off, suddenly conscious of her situation, alone in the dark with her employer. Alone in the dark with Ralph Cottingham, fifth Baron Adversane. She thought back to his explanation of their encounter in the rain-soaked garden. It had sounded very reasonable at the time, but no amount of reasoning could dispel her unease. She said briskly, ‘But that is all for the future and I should not be wasting your time with it. Now, let me see, what other patterns can I recognise? That is Ursa Minor, is it not?’
‘That’s right. And there, the brighter stars that make an elongated letter “W”, is Cassiopeia....’
He continued to describe the night sky, standing behind her and directing her eyes up to the heavens. He pointed out Draco, Hercules and Cygnis, as well as the bright star Arcturus in the constellation of Bootes, the herdsman. Lucy tried to concentrate, but when he laid one hand casually on her shoulder it took all her resolution to stand still. It was a relief when he finished his brief tour of the skies and invited her to look through the telescope.
‘But the stars are not much clearer,’ she exclaimed, a laugh in her voice. ‘I fear you have misled me, Lord Adversane.’
‘That is because they are so distant. Now, look at Saturn.’ He turned her around and stood behind her, pointing over her shoulder. ‘Look, there it is. Follow my finger, do you see it? A bright spot in the south.’
‘Yes, yes, I do.’
‘Now.’ He realigned the telescope and beckoned her over. ‘Now, what do you see?’
She peered through the lens and caught her breath in a gasp.
‘But it is beautiful,’ she breathed. ‘I can see it so clearly, and it has hoops around it—’ She straightened and moved away from the telescope to stare once more at the night sky. ‘It is quite marvellous, my lord.’
He laughed and, clearly encouraged by her eagerness to learn, pointed out even more constellations to her.
‘But this is not the best time of year for stargazing,’ he told her. ‘Once the darker nights are here you have more opportunity to see the planets and track them across the heavens.’
They stood in silence, gazing up. Lucy felt a strange contentment and was emboldened to ask, ‘Did Lady Adversane share your enthusiasm, sir?’
She felt him drawing away from her, even before he moved.
‘No,’ he said shortly. ‘I brought her here once or twice, but she found it tedious and very cold. We have done enough for tonight. Come along.’
Putting a hand under her arm, he took her back to the stairs, scooping up the lanthorn as they went.
‘What about your telescope?’
‘I shall come back for it later. For now I must get you indoors.’
The easy camaraderie they had shared was quite gone, and Lucy knew she had caused the change by asking him about his late wife. Silently, they descended to his workshop, where Lucy thanked him politely for showing her the stars.
‘I only hope you have not caught a chill in that flimsy wrap.’
‘Not at all. The night is very warm.’
He put down the lamp.
‘Let me feel your hands.’ He reached out and took them in his own warm grasp. ‘You are cold.’
‘No, no, I assure you it is only my fingers.’
Lucy stared at his hands. Her throat dried, a voice inside was screaming that she should pull away, and she knew she was standing far too close for safety. The darkness swirled around them, edging her closer still, like a solid hand on her back. How easy it would be to lean into him, to rest her cheek on the smooth silk of his waistcoat and feel the hard chest beneath. Perhaps she might even hear the