out Granville and found him opening several boxes of machine parts Tom had delivered yesterday. Upon hearing of their visitor, he washed the dust from his hands and accompanied Clara back to the studio.
“Mr. Hall, welcome to our museum.” Granville extended his hand.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Blake.” Sebastian greeted Granville with a nod, ignoring the other man’s outstretched hand.
A frown tugged at Clara’s mouth as an awkward pause filled the air before Granville lowered his arm back to his side.
Sebastian spoke in a pleasant tone, as if nothing untoward had just occurred. “Your niece has been most accommodating in your absence.”
“Pleased to hear it,” Granville said. “How else might I assist you?”
“I’m interested in learning more about how the automata are actually put together. And how you intend to use music in an auxiliary fashion to correspond with the actions of the figures.”
Clara blinked. Perhaps she was wrong about Sebastian’s interest in mechanics.
Out of curiosity, she followed him and Granville back to his workshop, where Granville proceeded to drone on about clockwork mechanisms, bellows, pin joints, and cylinders. He took Sebastian to the former dining room of the town house, where he drafted his diagrams, and unfurled scrolls etched with detailed plans for toys and automata.
Sebastian nodded as Granville waved his hand over the drawings and explained how he intended to bring them to fruition.
“Your niece mentioned you also make clocks?” Sebastian asked.
“On occasion, yes. Usually when commissioned. Not quite as interesting as automata, I’ve found, though often the mechanisms are similar.”
“And do you construct anything else?” Sebastian asked.
Granville shrugged. “I could make anything, I suppose, with the right plans. Why? Have you got something in mind?”
“I’ve a sister-in-law who is a mathematician,” Sebastian said. “She and my brother live abroad now, but she once told me there are machines that can calculate sums. Have you heard of such a thing?”
“Certainly,” Granville said. “Quite interesting. My mentor, Monsieur Dupree, has done a bit of work with arithmometers, but there’s some difficulty with the multiplying element. Did you wish to commission such a machine?”
“Possibly, though I’m also inquiring for my younger brother Darius. He lives in St. Petersburg as well and is far more mechanically minded than I am.”
Ah. That explained it a bit, then, Clara thought.
“Darius heard there are also machines that can transmit messages in cipher,” Sebastian continued. “Do you know about those?”
“Not in any detail, no,” Granville said. “Though if you’d like, I can give you the address of a gentleman who lives in Southwark. He knows more than I do about machines such as those. Perhaps your brother might like to correspond directly with him.”
“I’d be much obliged.”
As Sebastian turned away from the table, Clara swore she saw frustration flash in his dark eyes.
“If you’ll both go into the drawing room, I’ll bring tea in,” she suggested. “You can discuss this further.”
Thoughts tumbled through her mind as she went to find Mrs. Marshall. Again she was seized by the sense that Sebastian Hall could prove useful. She didn’t know how, but surely the son of an earl would have access to resources she lacked. And she was not too proud to plead for anything, not where Andrew was concerned.
She brought the tray into the drawing room and began to pour the tea. Sebastian twisted the key on a mechanical birdcage that Uncle Granville had been working on. The birds whistled a reedy melody that seemed at odds with the delicacy of the feathered larks.
“You ought to use Haydn,” Sebastian remarked.
“Haydn?” Granville repeated.
“‘The Lark’ Quartet, opus sixty-four, number five,” Sebastian said. “The first violin imitates the call of larks, which would be more suitable
“Mr. Hall, welcome to our museum.” Granville extended his hand.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Blake.” Sebastian greeted Granville with a nod, ignoring the other man’s outstretched hand.
A frown tugged at Clara’s mouth as an awkward pause filled the air before Granville lowered his arm back to his side.
Sebastian spoke in a pleasant tone, as if nothing untoward had just occurred. “Your niece has been most accommodating in your absence.”
“Pleased to hear it,” Granville said. “How else might I assist you?”
“I’m interested in learning more about how the automata are actually put together. And how you intend to use music in an auxiliary fashion to correspond with the actions of the figures.”
Clara blinked. Perhaps she was wrong about Sebastian’s interest in mechanics.
Out of curiosity, she followed him and Granville back to his workshop, where Granville proceeded to drone on about clockwork mechanisms, bellows, pin joints, and cylinders. He took Sebastian to the former dining room of the town house, where he drafted his diagrams, and unfurled scrolls etched with detailed plans for toys and automata.
Sebastian nodded as Granville waved his hand over the drawings and explained how he intended to bring them to fruition.
“Your niece mentioned you also make clocks?” Sebastian asked.
“On occasion, yes. Usually when commissioned. Not quite as interesting as automata, I’ve found, though often the mechanisms are similar.”
“And do you construct anything else?” Sebastian asked.
Granville shrugged. “I could make anything, I suppose, with the right plans. Why? Have you got something in mind?”
“I’ve a sister-in-law who is a mathematician,” Sebastian said. “She and my brother live abroad now, but she once told me there are machines that can calculate sums. Have you heard of such a thing?”
“Certainly,” Granville said. “Quite interesting. My mentor, Monsieur Dupree, has done a bit of work with arithmometers, but there’s some difficulty with the multiplying element. Did you wish to commission such a machine?”
“Possibly, though I’m also inquiring for my younger brother Darius. He lives in St. Petersburg as well and is far more mechanically minded than I am.”
Ah. That explained it a bit, then, Clara thought.
“Darius heard there are also machines that can transmit messages in cipher,” Sebastian continued. “Do you know about those?”
“Not in any detail, no,” Granville said. “Though if you’d like, I can give you the address of a gentleman who lives in Southwark. He knows more than I do about machines such as those. Perhaps your brother might like to correspond directly with him.”
“I’d be much obliged.”
As Sebastian turned away from the table, Clara swore she saw frustration flash in his dark eyes.
“If you’ll both go into the drawing room, I’ll bring tea in,” she suggested. “You can discuss this further.”
Thoughts tumbled through her mind as she went to find Mrs. Marshall. Again she was seized by the sense that Sebastian Hall could prove useful. She didn’t know how, but surely the son of an earl would have access to resources she lacked. And she was not too proud to plead for anything, not where Andrew was concerned.
She brought the tray into the drawing room and began to pour the tea. Sebastian twisted the key on a mechanical birdcage that Uncle Granville had been working on. The birds whistled a reedy melody that seemed at odds with the delicacy of the feathered larks.
“You ought to use Haydn,” Sebastian remarked.
“Haydn?” Granville repeated.
“‘The Lark’ Quartet, opus sixty-four, number five,” Sebastian said. “The first violin imitates the call of larks, which would be more suitable
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