Charles Sheffield - The Amazing Dr. Darwin

“It was a cargo more precious than lace,” Helen said abruptly. “More valuable than gold or rubies. Brother, I seldom ask for anything, but I beg you, do not take this to the Court. Promise me that, and I will tell you everything.”

Solborne had not sat down. He stared at her in total confusion.

“He cannot promise what he does not understand,” Darwin said mildly. “Tell first, Miss Helen, then make your request.”

“I cannot.” And then, under Darwin’s steady gaze, “But I must.” She took a deep breath. “Very well. I will.

“Tom, you cannot guess how it distressed when you thought me the devoted slave of that—that mountebank , Riker. He is nothing, merely an intermediary for others. What I am doing, I do because I choose, not because I am in any way controlled . And this did not begin two months ago, with my trip to Bristol. It began a full year earlier, with my visit to France. I saw poverty there beyond imagining, people downtrodden and hopeless and reduced to animal existence. But in Paris I also met a group of men and women, small in numbers yet dedicated, who seek in France what was recently achieved by the American colonies: freedom .”

“A revolt!”

“No, brother, not a revolt. A revolution . They cannot speak openly—King Louis, ineffectual as he seems, has ministers and minions both suspicious and bloodthirsty. Plans must be made in secret; in the churches, in the Paris catacombs, in the open fields, by sunlight and moonlight and candlelight. And still there is risk. When exposure comes too close, there is only one chance: the suspect must quit France entirely, and fly to another country. I have helped those in peril to find sanctuary.” Helen Solborne walked forward and took her brother by the hand. “Tom, I have deceived you for one reason only: I seek to save human lives.”

“I believe you.” But Solborne was not looking at her. “If the King found out—he already becomes demented at any mention of the American revolt—he would fear for the spread to England, men would say treason—”

“And women would say compassion. Tom, I had no choice. Don’t you see that?”

“It must stop, Helen. Tonight was the last time.”

“The secret is out now. I will agree—if you will not go to London, and betray them. A score or more are here in England, facing certain death on a return to France.”

“I will—think about it.” Solborne met his sister’s eyes for the first time. He sat down on one of the straight-backed chairs. “If you can promise me that there is nothing else. Nothing more that you are concealing from me.”

“Brother, I will answer every question that you ask, openly and honestly. But do not betray those whose lives have depended on me.”

Darwin caught Jacob Pole’s eye, and jerked his head toward the door. “This is no part of our business,” he said softly, as they headed down the stairs. “It is between Tom and Helen Solborne.”

“Will she persuade him?”

“She is his little sister. She will throw herself on his mercy, and he will be unable to resist her.”

“But ’Rasmus, this could be— treason .” Pole hissed the word. “If anything like the Americas were to happen here…”

“It will not. King George is sane only north-northwest, but there is too much of a bottom of good sense in our people and parliament for revolution to be a danger. The Continent is different. You heard Matthew Boulton. France is stirring, there is unrest in Bavaria and Bohemia. The royal courts must look out for themselves. The problems in Europe run broad and deep.”

They had reached the bottom of the stairs and were passing Joan Rowland’s room. She was standing by her bed in a long flannel nightgown, round eyed and as far from sleep as anyone could be.

Darwin turned to Pole. “I feared as much. Jacob, will you do me a favor? Will you calm her fears, and tell her that it is quite safe to go to bed?”

“Me? You are the one who knows all.”

“I lack your talent to soothe a lady’s worries.”

“Rubbish! You boast of it. Oh, all right.” Pole turned into the bedroom. “You owe me, ’Rasmus,” he said over his shoulder. And then, in a confiding voice to Joan, which happened to be quite loud enough for Darwin to hear. “You see how it is, Joan Rowland, the great Dr. Darwin goes off to roll his fat in a cozy bed, and leaves others to do his work.”

Darwin smiled to himself as he continued into the dining room. He remained only long enough to adjust his scarf and button his greatcoat. Then he headed downstairs for the entrance hall. He left Newlands, and took the dark path that led south along the cliff.

Now came the difficult part.

Darwin walked slowly, chin tucked in low on his chest, hardly aware of the rough shingle beneath his feet. His eyes from time to time sought the sea to his right. Somewhere out there would be a ship, hove to, its crew perplexed. They would wonder, why had the signal light been interrupted? Was it safe to go ashore?

The house rented by Anton Riker was tiny, hardly more than a one-room cottage. There was no sign of the pony and trap in front of its only door. True to his word, Riker had gone to Abbotsbury, a few miles farther along the coast. Darwin could guess what that business was. Riker would soon be as confused as the ship’s crew.

The cottage door was closed. It was hard to see anything through the single grimy window. A flickering light gleamed from within.

Darwin took a deep breath, swung the door open, and passed through in a single movement.

The low-ceilinged room was lit by two tallow candles in stone bowls, one at each end of a table of knotty elm. The Riker calculating engine was on the floor over by the wall, looking exactly as it had in the Newlands’ dining room. A bed stood to the right on one side of the fireplace, and on the other side was a child’s cot.

Food was set out on the table: a leg of cold mutton, a great dish of pickled onions, dark bread and a steaming cauliflower. A quart pewter mug stood by the single plate. Next to that plate sat a man. He had a knife in his hand, and was about to slice mutton from the joint.

The man’s legs dangled from the tall chair, and the crown of his head was no more than twelve inches above the table top.

Darwin nodded to him casually, as though meeting a dwarf late at night was the most normal and pleasant thing in the world.

“Good evening. I was hoping to converse with Professor Riker.”

To anyone less observant, the other’s brief hesitation would have passed unnoticed. “The professor is away on business,” he said. And, when Darwin did not respond, “I am—his manservant. My name is Elie Marйe.”

The dwarf spoke good English, though with a definite Normandy accent. He slid down from the chair, moved away from the table, and bowed to Darwin. Standing, he was at most three and a half feet tall. His arms and legs were short and stubby, but the large head was well formed. Alert brown eyes swept Darwin from head to foot.

Darwin smiled his toothless smile. “I wonder if I might wait here for the professor’s return.”

Again, the pause for thought was scarcely discernible, but Darwin had a sense of rapid evaluation and of a definite choice made.

“Certainly.” Marйe waved to a seat at the other side of the table. “I am about to dine. If you would care to join me…”

“Perhaps a bite or two.” Darwin sat down, picked up a pickled onion, and crunched it with pleasure. He wiped vinegar from his lips with his sleeve. The other man put out two plates, carefully carved mutton, and waited.

“I saw the calculating engine demonstrated earlier this evening.” Darwin nodded to the machine. “It is a wonderful invention.”