Not only support them, but share them—for Anjali was well-read, and we had a spirited conversation on the relative merits of Galvani versus Volta and Lamarckian versus Darwinian theory. She was passionately enthusiastic about Darwin and most appreciative of my recommendation of the work of Antoinette Brown Blackwell.
“I shall make a point of reading her efforts,” she promised. “Although so long as she is a critic of Lamarck, I have no doubt I will find her writings instructive.”
“I am delighted to hear such reasonable views,” I told her. “Mr.Templeton-Vane is decidedly too fond of Lamarck for his own good.”
Just then, the mantel clock struck the hour and Anjali smoothed out her skirts, resuming once more the sober mien of an upper servant. She inclined her head to Effie in what might have beeninterpreted as a bit of light mockery, for her lips twitched as she bobbed a curtsy. “Miss Euphemia,” she murmured. She turned in my direction. “Miss Speedwell.”
She left us then, and a peaceful silence settled over the observatory. From this vantage point, one might watch sheep and clouds, both formless masses of white, gathering and shifting over the moor. The clock ticked on, and there was a muted wet snuffle from the dog.
“It is nice that you have a companion,” I told her, gesturing towards the dog. As if sensing she was under discussion, the pup lifted her head and gave me a lofty look.
“A gift from my godfather—Sir Hugo Montgomerie,” she said with a tinge of pride. “But you must know him. He corresponded with Charles to arrange the sale of the collection to Lord Rosemorran.”
“I have made his acquaintance,” I temporized.
“I do not see him very often,” she said. “He sends me five pounds on my birthday every year and he brought Al-’Ijliyyah as a present the last time he visited, but he and Charles quarreled so I do not think he will come again soon.”
“Al-’Ijliyyah! You have given her an Arabic name?” The dog put her nose forward tentatively and I ventured to hold out my hand for her to smell.
“I called her after Al-’Ijliyyah bint Al-’Ijliyy, an astronomer who lived in Aleppo before the Crusades. Can you imagine?” she asked, her eyes shining. “She was making scientific instruments a thousand years ago.”
“A worthy namesake,” I agreed.
She rolled her eyes. “Mary doesn’t like it. She refers to her as Jilly and now everyone else does. Only Anjali calls her by her correct name.”
“She seems a good friend,” I began.
Effie let out a sharp bark of laughter that startled the dog. “Did Mary ask you to speak to me?”
“How did you know?”
“Because she does it with anyone she thinks might be able to persuade me to listen.” She pitched her voice into an exact impression of her sister-in-law’s affected tones. “‘Effie, you mustn’t consort with the help. It simply is not done and it sets such a bad example for the children.’” She rolled her eyes again. “As if I care about setting an example for the children.”
“You are not fond of your nephew and nieces?”
“I loathe the little horrors,” she said frankly. “The twins are babies and therefore unspeakably dull. Little Ada juststareswith a sort of terrifying intensity as if she is trying to see underneath my skin. And the less said of Geoffrey and his obsession with putting things in cages the better.”
“I have never been inclined to like children myself,” I admitted. “I am far more content with butterflies and dogs.”
Al-’Ijliyyah nosed closer to me, shoving her snout under my hand until Effie laughed. “She wants you to scratch behind her ears. She is a peremptory little beast, but I am fond of her.”
I obediently scratched behind the dog’s ears, earning myself a delicate little lick when I was finished. I looked about, surveying the stacks of notebooks and instruments arranged on a series of low shelves so as not to impede the view from the vast windows. A telescope, ancient-looking with a wide, cracked lens, stood in front of one of the windows. The expansive vistas made the small room seem quite spacious, and I was conscious for the first time since arriving at the Hall of a sort of quiet peace.
“I like it here,” I told Effie. “I see why you have made this your bolt-hole.”
“When it is clear, you can see almost to Torquay. And at night, the stars are as numerous as grains of sand upon the shore.”
My gaze fell upon the orrery, the planets still making their revolutions around the sun, some of them almost imperceptibly slow.
“It was Granfer’s. And it was meant to be mine.” Her complexion flushed, an unbecoming color on one with gingerish hair.
“I am sorry,” I told her truthfully. “Perhaps it need not go,” I began.
“Charles insists. The telescope is worthless now,” she said with a nod towards the cracked instrument. “But the orrery is in excellent condition and rather rare. Italian in origin. Worth a considerable amount of money, so naturally Mary and Charles are interested in it. I have made my peace with it,” she added quickly, and I wondered whether to believe her. She went on. “Besides, I have Granfer’s research notebooks, and they are more valuable, at least to me. I am continuing his work.”
She paused and made a vague gesture towards the notebook in her lap.
“What is the work?” I inquired.
