The Ghosts of N-Space - Barry Letts [80]
Unfolding it, she read it in a few moments: –
My dearest Sarah,
I cannot tell you how it wounds my heart to deceive you so.
But if you have ever loved – if you shall ever love – you may one day comprehend. In the meantime I shall not importune your forgiveness, but shall confide in the kindness of your own heart and the trust that I have reposed in you that you will not betray my secret.
In this you will incur the eternal gratitude of Your loving friend,
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Louisa.
As she finished, Sarah felt bitterly ashamed of herself.
No matter what the motive, she had no right to tell Louisa’s guardian. She had promised not to – and the Doctor himself had said that you should be as responsible in this present moment – in this extraordinary present that felt as if you were living out a story that somebody else had written – as you were in the real one – oh God! – in the one that felt real because that was where you started.
So stop whingeing, Sarah Jane, and just get on with it!
Paolo Verconti did not like drinking alone. He found himself too often in the unfortunate position of having no other option; occasionally he would invite the priest to dine with him – a semi-illiterate peasant under the veneer he had acquired in the seminary; and little Louisa’s English governess could with difficulty be persuaded to take a rare glass of sweet sherry; but that was about the length of it.
So to find himself with such a congenial companion as the Doctor was to have good fortune doubly smiling on him; the more especially that he seemed content to postpone his bedtime indefinitely. It was well past eleven o’clock.
‘I have taken the proceedings of your Royal Society for this age,’ the Barone was saying carefully. ‘The 279
astronomical papers in particular well repay a careful study.’
‘I agree wholeheartedly,’ replied the Doctor. ‘I take it then that your interest in the stars is purely taxonomical?’
‘By no means, sir. Indeed, I shall shortly demonstrate quite otherwise. My observations of our nearest planetary neighbour –’
‘Venus?’
‘I was referring to the daughter of our dear Mother Earth who graces our night sky with her presence. The Lunar Orb, Doctor.’
Really, the man was not so perspicacious as he’d first appeared to be.
‘You are interested in the study of Astrology, I take it?
That you should refer to the Moon as a planet, I mean.’
The Barone picked up his glass and took a gulp of brandy. ‘Superstitious fol-de‐riddle, saving your presence,’
he said.
The Doctor was swirling the brandy in his glass, and staring into it as though looking into a crystal ball.
‘I wish I could be so positive, Signore. As normally presented, perhaps. But there is some evidence that among the consequences of the warping of space by gravitational forces…’ The Doctor’s voice trailed away and he looked up.
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What was the fellow talking about?
‘Your pardon, sir,’ said the Doctor. ‘It must be your excellent brandy speaking. As I told you, I am but a dabbler in these matters.’
The Barone drained his glass and stood up. ‘Come, Doctor. It is time for me to fulfil my promise. My hope is that I may show you the kind of reward you may win from a rational contemplation of the wonders of nature.’
There was no talking, rather a puffing and a panting and a grunting, as the Barone led the way up the tortuous staircase of the clock tower.
Up, up, up, past the doorway into the clock-chamber and on; and so at last into the little room in the clouds which was the Barone’s joy. Quite incapable of speech, he turned a beaming, shining face to the Doctor, and held his lantern high to illuminate all the marvels to be seen.
There were globes both terrestrial and astral, there were maps of the night sky, there were orreries and planetaria.
But sitting in pride of place was the marvel of marvels: a telescope.
‘It is by Dolland of London,’ the Barone managed to say. ‘I acquired it when I was living in Tunbridge Wells. I would venture to claim that it has the only six-inch speculum to be found south of Rome.’
‘I am most impressed, sir,’ said