He agreed, but was curious as to why she made her opinion known. “Do you think so?” He started walking them forward again as he waited for her reply.
“I do. She is the epitome of what every duke wishes for in a wife. She is accomplished in French, dancing, running a household, and playing the pianoforte. Even more important, she comes from a good family, she’s gracious, and she has an excellent reputation.”
He smirked. “In other words, no scandal dogs her heels.”
She shook her head. “None at all.”
“You don’t mention her looks.” He admitted, if only to himself, that he found Lady Joanna much more attractive, but not for a duchess.
“Is that important to you?” She raised her brows, clearly skeptical. “I didn’t see a man of your intellect being limited by certain aesthetics, but if that is the case then I would suggest that she is of the typical coloring highly sought after by males in theton. Much like the lighter plumage of the North American Oriel is sought after by the male of its species.”
He was both flattered and insulted by her phrasing. His instinct told him she had meant it to be so. “You do not feel outward appearances are important in a husband or bride?”
“To be honest, I have not considered it since I have never been on the same quest you are. I imagine it would be preferable to have someone pleasant to look at while sitting across the table at breakfast, but as far as one coloring over another, I don’t see how that should matter. We are not paintings after all.”
As much as he wished to argue the point, he found himself failing to find a legitimate counter.
“Oh, but now this, this is stunning.” Lady Joanna slipped her hand from his arm and moved forward to view a three-foot high swan made entirely of silver.
Stepping up behind her, he easily viewed the mechanical creature over her shoulder. It was indeed lifelike as it sat straight in what appeared to be an illusion of water beneath it. Then it started to move.
He sensed more than heard her intake of breath as the swan lifted a wing off its back and scratched itself before straightening. It then lowered its head to the water illusion below and came up with a fish in its beak before swallowing it. The movements were so lifelike and graceful that when it finished its pattern, those around them quietly applauded as if afraid to scare the bird. Not much in the mechanical realm impressed him, but this was quite remarkable. “Did you enjoy its movements?”
Lady Johanna looked up at him over her shoulder, her ever present lock dangling upon her chest. “It was far more beautiful than I expected.”
Her appreciation for the scientific artform shone in her eyes, which appeared in the light to have their own silver flecks. He had the urge to compare her to the swan and tell her she was far more impressive, but he stifled it.
She turned back to the creature, who remained still, its mechanical pattern waiting to start again. “It is quite an unusual swan.”
That was an understatement. “Because it’s silver or because of its mechanics?”
She looked up at him, a twinkle in her eye. “Because swans don’t eat fish intentionally and they would never seek out such a big fish.” She moved away to view another exhibit.
He laughed. The sound as unexpected to him as to the people around him, who gave him curious glances. Only Lady Joanna would make such an observation, and she was absolutely correct. The fish the artist had chosen was far larger than swans would ever eat, since they ate minnows by accident while feeding on water vegetation.
He followed to where she strolled, viewing the various oddities.
She stopped in front of a clock that wound itself through barometric pressure, or so the sign claimed. Though she didn’t turn at his approach, she addressed him. “I read about this theory, but haven’t seen it put to purpose.”
“All knowledge has purpose, though I would not have thought of this particular application for barometric pressure. That is such an unpredictable phenomenon.”
“You mean like the cold summer we’re having? I don’t think we’ve had more than a handful of days that have been pleasant.” She leaned closer to the clock, studying it. “I wonder if that has had an effect on this machine.”
He pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and compared the times. “Doesn’t appear to have caused any inaccuracy.” He held it out as she turned to look.
She noted the time then looked back at the automation. “You’re right. It seems a shame that someone can figure out how to create a perpetual clock, but we still can’t even diagnose illnesses correctly.”
That was an odd statement. Curious, he probed. “Knowledge is far more than reading and calculations. It also means experimenting and applying theories in concrete ways.”
That engendered her full attention. “Of course, that is how progress is made, yet despite our medical profession’s rejection of the four humors, they still find reason to bleed people. Loss of blood can lead to death, so why they insist on that as a way to cure anything is beyond my comprehension.” Her cheeks had become flushed and her brow furrowed. She’d jumped from reason to emotion, but why?
He opened his arm toward the middle of the room to entice her to move away from those nearby. She strode forward in that direction, not giving her surroundings a thought as she continued. “If they can dissect a cadaver, then surely they should by now, understand how the body works and be able to fix it.”
“I’m not sure what you mean. They have learned quite a lot about our bodies and can set broken bones and even extract bullets. I understand there was some miraculous work done by the doctors during the Peninsular Wars.”
She waved off his comments. “I’m not talking about bone and tissue. I’m talking about blood, pulse, breathing, digestion.”
She had a point. “I believe those areas as well as the brain are still being discovered, but we have made progress. We aren’t as easily discoverable as metallic elements or various gasses.”
