Chapter Five

Shirley entered the kitchen, where Garland and Luke were both busy placing food onto platters. Garland, a big, beefy man with slicked-back hair and tired eyes, turned around as he heard her approach. When he saw no one else, he said, “Master’s spending another night in the ballroom, is he?”

Shirley nodded. Lately, Sir Joseph had been working on his machine in the laboratory through the supper hour and had been taking his meals there. This meant Milverton or one of the maids had to deliver his meal to him before joining the rest of the staff in the dining room. Tonight was the first time Shirley had been entrusted with the task of bringing Sir Joseph his meal, and she would be lying if she were to say she was not a little excited by the task. She had not been in the ballroom where Sir Joseph conducted his work as of yet, not even when Mrs. Preston had shown her around the Lodge on her first day. She was curious to see what was actually in there and why it took priority over a larger staff or doing work on the house.

With a groan of annoyance, as if the master’s desire to eat alone was a personal affront to him, Garland began putting together a tray of food for Sir Joseph while his son continued cutting up the beef and placing it on a platter for the dining room. When he was done, he handed the tray to Shirley, who carried the tray out of the kitchen. She took each step carefully, being aware that while she needed to get to the ballroom as quickly as possible, anything she dropped could come out of her pay if it broke.

The ballroom, or laboratory as Sir Joseph preferred to call it, was at the very end of the north wing, protected by two large, oaken doors. Placing the tray down on a table underneath a painting of Sir Gregory and his sons as children, she rapped lightly on the door. “Sir Joseph?” she called. “Your supper is ready.”

She waited a minute, but no response came. Thinking that maybe he had not heard her, Shirley knocked harder and repeated herself in a raised voice. The door swung inward on rusty hinges that protested loudly. Shirley leaned forward, expecting to see Sir Joseph, but only saw darkness.

No wait, that was incorrect. The room was dark, but not entirely dark. Shirley could make out low electric lights and chemicals that glowed like stars on a clear night. Shirley squinted and called out for Sir Joseph one more time. When she did not receive an answer, she shrugged, picked the tray up, and carried it in.

As expected, the rectangular ballroom was enormous, with a high ceiling and enough room that Shirley thought Griffin and his school friends might have enough space to play rugby indoors if they so desired. As big as it was though, it was also very crowded: half the room was taken up by a great edifice. Probably the machine Sir Joseph was working on, if Shirley had to guess. The other half, meanwhile, contained workbenches littered with machine parts and chemistry sets, bookshelves piled high with thick tomes and loose papers, and a writing desk covered in all sorts of papers and devices. The only thing that seemed missing from Sir Joseph’s laboratory was Sir Joseph himself. Where was he?

With another shrug, Shirley carried the tray to the writing desk and placed it on the one spot not covered in papers. Task completed, she turned to leave and rejoin the other maids in the dining room. She paused mid-step, however, as she took a second look at the laboratory.

Although curiosity had been all but expelled from her nature so she could be a good maid rather than a nosy one, a wave of curiosity overtook her now. This was the first time she had ever been in an actual science laboratory and, while she had no way to know how this one differed from others of its kind, she thought it was impressive. Maybe a bit too dark and eerie for her taste, and probably not all that impressive compared to what that Edison fellow had across the sea in America. But she felt if the impresario from Covent Garden could see this, he would give his wholehearted approval and claim Sir Joseph was part of the wave of the future or something like that.

Still, what was Sir Joseph working on, exactly? It was the one thing no one in the Lodge had a sure answer for. She had overheard Griffin try to engage Sir Joseph on his work at many suppers, but the baronet always changed the subject whenever asked. And Mrs. Preston had told Shirley on her first day that no one was sure what Sir Joseph was working on, only that he considered it of the utmost importance. Also, gossiping about that work, while tempting, was highly discouraged among the Lodge’s staff. Doing so could cost you your job, even if the staff was shorthanded.

She studied the machine from a distance, a giant mass of brass and steel taking up the far wall of the ballroom and extending halfway along each side wall. She went to take a closer look and noticed that the machine was really several machines linked together by thick wires and glass tubes. The tubes in particular interested Shirley. They looked a lot like what the impresario had used in Covent Garden during his science demonstrations. What had he called those tubes? Oh yes, vacuum tubes. They were important in spurring the movement of trains and pumping water from the ground. Shirley wondered if these glass tubes were the same thing.

And now that she was a bit closer, she could see numbers on each machine. The one on the far right said Number 13 in big, black letters painted on the front panel. She checked the one on the far left. Sure enough, big, black letters identified the machine as Number 1. She did a quick count. Six machines on each side. And the one on the far end was a single machine. That one had to be number seven, correct?

She walked to the far end of the laboratory and indeed, found a Number 7 on the machine. If she had to guess, this one was the most important, seeing as it took up the entire back of the room. But what was this machine? What was its purpose? It had dials and switches and blinking lights like all the others, and it was connected to the other machines by wires and glass tubes like the other machines, but the only other thing that distinguished it from the other was a man-sized glass tube set in the center of its front. It looked like something one was meant to step inside and—what?

Shirley drew closer to the giant tube. She did not think this was a vacuum tube. For one thing, there was a handle and locking mechanism on the outside of the tube, and a track at the top and bottom of the glass. She was right, someone was supposed to step in and out of the machine. The only question was, why?

Shirley drew closer, hoping to find answers beyond the glass. All she found though was her reflection, and her lazy eye staring off at an odd angle. God, she hated that eye sometimes. She could never take a photograph because of it. If that eye were not marring her face, then maybe she—

“What are you doing in here?!”

Shirley screamed and spun around, hand over her heart. Standing in the doorway to the laboratory was Sir Joseph, a white lab coat upon his frame and a mask of fury upon his face. The blood drained from her face. She was in deep trouble now. Maybe out of a job.

“I said, what are you doing here?” Sir Joseph roared, striding towards her. “I do not like people lingering in here. Did you mess with anything? Did you?”

“No sir!” Shirley replied desperately, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “I-I just came to deliver your dinner, and I-I saw your machine and was fascinated. I mean, I thought those glass tubes might be vacuum tubes and I—oh please, don’t fire me, sir! I promise, I’ll never come in here again!”

Sir Joseph stopped in mid-stride, an odd look on his face. “What did you say?”

“Um, I came to deliver your dinner—”

“No, not that! What did you think the glass tubes were?”

“V-Vacuum tubes, sir,” Shirley answered, flinching. “They’ve had all the air sucked out of them, right? A-And you can move things through them or have them float without crashing and breaking against the sides. Is-is that right?”

She waited, expecting to be dismissed and exiled from the Lodge in disgrace. To her surprise, however, a small smile appeared on the baronet’s face. “Yes,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, I suppose that is right. To be precise, the pressure from a lack of atmosphere pulls objects in all directions, which means they move in no direction. This keeps them from contacting the sides of the tube and giving them the appearance of floating. By creating a space for the vacuum to go, you can move the objects within the vacuum one way or another. Tell me Shirley, do you know much about science?”

“Um…” She was uncertain what to say. What would ensure she kept her job? A response popped into her mind and escaped her lips before if she could decide if it was the correct one. “Not as much as I would like, sir.”

For a moment, she was sure she would be fired. After all, it was considered bad for a woman, let alone a woman of her low standing, to show too much interest in academic subjects, including the sciences. It was even said to be unhealthy and could cause issues of the mind and the womb. What if Sir Joseph thought she was mentally unwell?

But then his smile grew a little wider. “Yes, I’m sure you haven’t been given many opportunities to learn science,” he mused aloud. “A pity. I’m of the opinion that all mankind, including women, could and should learn from and use science to improve themselves.”

All that Shirley was sure of was that Sir Joseph was delighted by her curiosity and was not going to put her out on the street. In fact, he seemed to welcome her interest in his work! Maybe she should use that to her advantage.

“I saw a man demonstrating scientific instruments and tools in Covent Garden not too long ago. That’s where I learned about vacuum tubes. What he demonstrated was quite impressive. I would have stayed for more, but I had duties to perform and was expected back at home.”

Good. Demonstrate that she was interested in the sciences, which was not untrue so long as they helped her, and then emphasize that she took her job seriously. This would satisfy Sir Joseph’s interest in her interest, while at the same time reassure him that she was a reliable maid who put duty before pleasure.

However, Sir Joseph seemed entirely uninterested in her reliability as a maid. “Yes, I bet it was quite impressive!” he said in a raised voice, closing the distance between them and leaning in close to her. “Especially to the untrained eye. But still, anything that births in the public an interest in the sciences serves the common good, in my opinion. Oh, how lucky you were to be there to see this demonstration!”

Shirley took a step back, frightened. Her tactic had failed miserably, and Sir Joseph was gazing at her with eyes that, while not suggesting madness, had an obsessive quality about them. She had seen eyes like that on Nellie’s face when she was allowed to speak on the topic of cooking for too long. Only Sir Joseph’s eyes were much more ardent than Nellie’s, and his closeness made them appear bigger than they were.

Quickly, Shirley searched for a new topic, and went with the only one she could think of. “Er, if you don’t mind me asking, sir, what does your machine do? It must be especially important for you to spend so much time on it.”

To her relief, Sir Joseph leaned away from her, a joyful, warm smile on his face. “It’s called the Eden Engine,” he answered. “And yes, it is quite important. Let me ask you, are you familiar with the Theory of Forms?”

Shirley’s stomach dropped to her feet. Now he wanted to discuss academic subjects, when she considered herself lucky for just knowing how to read and write! Should she lie? No, he would see the lie on her face. But if she told the truth, would he be upset again?

She struggled with herself and then, sure the truth would doom her, shook her head. Sir Joseph crossed the ballroom to his writing desk, gesturing for her to follow. She followed and joined him as he handed her a piece of paper and a pencil. She glanced at the page. It was entirely blank.

“Try drawing a person,” he instructed, boyish excitement in his eyes. “Doesn’t have to be exact or anyone in particular. Just do your best to draw one. Any person. Just the idea of a person.”

The idea of a person? An image appeared in her head, a generic man in simple clothes. If she had passed him on a London street, Shirley would not have noticed him at all. She glanced at Sir Joseph, got his nod of encouragement, and began to draw. What resulted was not anything like the image in her head. It was a simple stick figure, with sausage-like appendages for fingers and an egg with grass growing out of the top to suggest a head and hair. If the Theory of Forms had anything to do with drawing ability, she had failed spectacularly.

Sir Joseph, on the other hand, seemed pleased by her drawing.

“Let me guess,” he said. “That wasn’t anything like what you imagined in your head?”

She nodded.

He pointed at her. “But you can still imagine the idea of a person, right? You know without needing to be told what a person is supposed to look like. Their proportions, their facial features, the number of fingers and toes on each hand and foot. In other words, you know the idea of a person. And you know the idea of a tree as well, or the idea of an umbrella, or the idea of a ship, correct? You know exactly what they are, how they function, and what their uses are if they have any.”

“Um, I suppose so, sir.”

“But when you try to produce that idea in reality, it rarely is as perfect as the idea in your head,” Sir Joseph explained, pointing at Shirley’s stick drawing. “And that is the essence of the Theory of Forms. The idea of something is the truer, purer version of something, and the reality is only a pale imitation or reproduction.”

Shirley glanced from the drawing to Sir Joseph and back again. She thought she understood what he was talking about. “So, it’s like how Mrs. Avondale and Miss Lucinda had a piece of music in their heads, but they had to work really hard to make it sound anything like it should when they attempted to play it on the piano?” she asked slowly. “Or like how I know what a peach looks like, but when I went to buy them at Covent Garden, some of them came in odd shapes not normal for peaches?”

“Exactly Shirley!” Sir Joseph’s grin was so wide, it nearly reached his ears. “Very good, you’ve grasped the concept. And that’s where the Eden Engine comes in. You see, according to the Theory of Forms, there is a place where the ideas of things, their Pure Forms, if you will, exist and are as real and tangible as you or me. The Eden Engine relies on fringe sciences, sciences not acknowledged yet by mainstream scientists such as those belonging to the Royal Society, to tap into the Pure World and bring its energy into our imperfect world. I believe if one can harness that energy, one can fix the faults in our world. The chamber you were standing in front of?” He pointed at the glass tube. “That is the bombardment chamber. If a living being were to stand in the energy chamber, they would be bombarded by Pure World energy, and any flaws they had—any diseases, any birth defects, anything that would keep them from being a perfect human being—would be eradicated from them. They would be pure.”

Shirley gazed at the central machine, considering what he was claiming it could do. If what he said was possible…

“If what you say is possible, it could change the world,” she said aloud. “It could end disease. Nobody would get sick anymore. Nobody would be lame or blind or deaf. Perhaps it could even end drunkenness or stop men from beating their wives.” A memory played at the back of her mind, that of a voice she didn’t like to think about. Don’t grow up to be a poisoner, little girl. Or I’ll come back for you someday. “It could even stop insanity or keep people from murdering each other.”

It could fix my eye, she thought.

“You are quick to understand the theory and its implications.”

Shirley turned to Sir Joseph. For half a moment, she had forgotten he was still standing there.

“Yes, it’s quite possible the Engine could do all that,” he continued, gazing at the machine with the eyes of a proud parent. “It’s still in the early phases, but I believe that by year’s end, we could be seeing the greatest revolution in history as well as science. The end of humanity’s impurity, and the beginning of finding their perfection.” Then his eyes traveled to Shirley’s. “How would you like to help me finish the project?”

Shirley blinked, surprised. She opened and closed her mouth several times before finding her voice. “I’m sorry?”

“Would you like to help me with the Eden Engine?” he rephrased. “Be my assistant instead of a measly maid-of-all-work? I’m at the point of development where I will be needing assistance anyway, and I would prefer someone I know who not only understands what I’m trying to accomplish here but shares my enthusiasm as you so clearly do.”

Shirley’s mind reeled. Work as his assistant? Was that even something she could do? No, she was a maid, not a scientist. She simply was not suited to work in a laboratory, no matter what the aim of the project was or her enthusiasm for it. It would be best for her to politely turn him down and hope he did not fire her in revenge.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, carefully choosing her words, “but I am a woman and a maid. I cannot possibly help you. Besides, your staff would be in a bind if I were to leave them to help you in the laboratory.”

“I can hire another maid if they’re so desperate for one,” Sir Joseph replied, waving a dismissive hand at her. “And as for whether a woman should be a scientist, there are quite a few women contributing to the field of science today, and they seem no worse for it. Ada Lovelace, for one. So, won’t you join me?”

Shirley realized with a chill that Sir Joseph was not going to let her turn him down. One way or another, she was going to work with him on this Engine. She gulped and cleared her throat. “I-I would be honored to work with you, Sir Joseph.”

“Excellent!” he cried, extending a hand to her. It took her a second to realize she was supposed to shake it, and another second to actually do so. His hand was firm and strong as it swallowed her. When he let go, he turned to the writing desk and began writing on a blank piece of paper. “We will need to get you a whole new wardrobe. After all, a maid’s uniform has no place in a laboratory. I’ll have a tailor come up from London to make you a whole new set of dresses befitting your new station. The one in the village can make your lab coat and boilersuits. Also, do you require anything special such as glasses to read? No? Excellent! We should also get you some scientific texts. I want you to study them as if your life depended on it. Since you will be working with me, a basic understanding of science is a necessity. And finally, you should be moved into an actual bedroom, not one of those closets in the basement. Perhaps one of the empty bedrooms on the second floor? Yes, that should do. I’ll have Mrs. Preston move your things immediately.”

Shirley’s mind swam as Sir Joseph continued to rattle off all the things she would require as his assistant. A lab coat and boilersuits? A whole new wardrobe of dresses? A new bedroom? Her dream of becoming a head housekeeper was quickly dissipating like smoke from a flame. Once she became a scientist, there would be no going back. No one would hire her for housekeeping if they thought she was too intellectual for the work.

She grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself. Sir Joseph failed to notice, instead turning to go and find Mrs. Preston or Milverton. Left alone, Shirley gazed at the machine—the Eden Engine, as Sir Joseph called it. An odd sense of calm came over her as she considered the energy chamber, the place where transformation would happen and impurities would be removed.

Well, maybe it won’t be so bad, she thought. Not being a maid anymore, I mean. Perhaps I’ll become a legend among scientists for assisting Sir Joseph. He did say this machine could revolutionize both science and history.

Her hand went up to her lazy eye. And maybe this thing will become normal as well. Perhaps I will become…

She stopped herself from thinking the word “beautiful.” Instead she thought, Perhaps I will become someone people will be proud to know.

Sir Joseph’s dinner was getting cold. She decided when he returned, she would remind him of it, her last act as a maid before changing careers. She turned towards the door and waited, not realizing just how much her life would change from this moment onwards.