《The Mechanical Man》


 Chapter 1: Vivid, Yet Ghastly, Imaginings

    ¡°I shall miss your rattling bones.¡±


    That was thesecond to last thing I ever said to the Mechanical Man. I like to think I saw the hint of a smile on his face, even though I know it was impossible. I had known him for such a short time, yet it was long enough to change the course of my life. I suspect he will signal the beginning of a new, modern era on the brink of the twentieth century in which science and human ingenuity will bring us untold wonders. Perhaps it is too soon to tell. Whatever the future holds, I stand ready to welcome it. He gave me a voice and the passion to challenge the fear and ignorance of the old world. For that, I will be forever grateful to Peter Dowling, the Mechanical Man.


    It was April of 1878 when the modest village of Rothsfield was introduced to Peter Dowling. The event, for a time, made Rothsfield the talk of England. I lived on my father¡¯s estate just outside of the village. Clifton Manor was humble compared to the homes of other members of the nobility, but I preferred it that way. It was here that I, Abigale Fairfax, grew up. My father, Lord William Fairfax, was a doting father and saw to my every need. My mother had passedin childbirth, along with the unborn child that would have been my younger brother Henry, when I was just a girl. Father had never remarried. My older brother Thomas was constantly restless and always looking for a way to improve the worth of our modest estate.


    It was into this quiet and proper setting that Doctor Richard Blyth brought his greatest invention. Dr. Blyth was the sole doctor in Rothsfield, and a bit of a ¡°tinkerer¡± as my father liked to say. Dr. Blyth had cared for Peter Dowling as he wasted away from consumption. Mr. Dowling was only seventeen when he knew with dire certainty that he would never see the start of his eighteenth year. His aunt was his only known relative and it was through her that the doctor obtained permission to perform an unprecedented and revolutionary medical procedure that he believed could preserve Mr. Dowling. The method was unheard of and became the source of the uproar in Rothsfield.


    For nearly two weeks Dr. Blyth had denied all visitors, made only house calls, and promised an astounding revelation regarding Mr. Dowling. Finally he called a meeting at the Rothsfield Town Hall.He¡¯d invited no small number of learned doctors and professors as a well as members of the general public. At the time, my father and I had little interest in attending, but Thomas was intrigued. He returned that evening brimming with excitement,barely managing to convey the details as he rushed to say them all at once. Finally we gathered that Dr. Blyth had revealed an extraordinary machine that housed a living, human brain. Thomas did his best to describe the machine and spoke of an intricate metal skeleton with a complicated web of gears and cogs that apparently allowed for movement. A pair of ingeniously constructed eyes allowed for sight and a voice box carefully constructed by Dr. Blyth himself, allowed for rudimentary speech.


    ¡°And the brain belonged to a Mr. Dowling of Rothsfield who was to have died of consumption,¡± Thomas finished his description at last.


    ¡°Such talk! It sounds as though he is developing a taste for the charlatan¡¯s trade. Such fanciful tales should be left in the hands of deft writers,¡± father stated, dismissing the matter of Dr. Blyth entirely.


    ¡°A tale I would most assuredly read. Such vivid, yet ghastly, imaginings,¡± I offered in reply.


    ¡°I can hardly fathom the two of you. Such a pair, indeed. The greatest scientific marvel of-¡° Thomas was unable to finish.


    ¡°Thomas, years ago your mother and I, God rest her, went down to town for The World¡¯s Fair. We saw countless scientific marvels I¡¯ll never forget. None of which; however, was an old man proffering up cheap clockworks,¡± father finished with a definitive tone and returned his attention to his ledgers.


    ¡°I promise you that is not the case,¡±though his enthusiasm may have been ebbing towards a certain type of desperation there remained a firm conviction in my brother¡¯s voice. ¡°It was real. The machine, or rather the brain inside, spoke on his own behalf, days after he should be dead.¡±


    ¡°Real or fabricated it remains hardly the sort of venture a respectable doctor should be engaged in,¡± my father stated.


    ¡°Father, he saved a life,¡± Thomas argued. ¡°That young man yet lives because of Dr. Blyth¡¯s efforts.¡±


    ¡°One could hardly call it life.¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s fascinating,¡± I assured Thomas. ¡°I rather regret that we remained aloof from your curiosity and missed such a spectacular marvel.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°You may yet get your chance,¡± Thomas said slyly.


    ¡°What are you getting at?¡± father asked with raised eyebrows.


    Thomas could barely contain his resurgent enthusiasm as he explained, ¡°Dr. Blyth has shown his procedure to be successful but feels it prudent to continue with further examinations.Though he has created a living mechanical man, how will such a being fare when interacting with those of flesh and blood? What strain might thatput upon the mind?To that end, and wishing him ever success, I invited him to bring his experiment to dinner tomorrow night!¡±


    ¡°Was this invitation devised by your industrious mind or did the good doctor first propose such a scheme? Perhaps he seeks a noble patron for this sideshow of his. As for tomorrow evening,¡± Father continued, ¡°you must be aware that we are already hosting Lord and Lady Bankes.¡±


    ¡°Indeed I am, but then it will be all for the better. It is a perfect opportunity to see the machine interact with people in a small and comfortable setting. And I daresay the Bankes would be hard-pressed to find such an astounding and quaint diversion.¡±


    ¡°A mechanical Lazarus is not the sort of entertainment that is appropriate for dinner.¡±


    I must confess that by this point my brother had rather won me over to his side and more than piqued my curiosity. I decided to come to his aid, ¡°Oh, please Father, what a unique experience it would be,¡± I interjected. ¡°And we¡¯ve known Dr. Blythe ever so long, if we invite him to dinner we can at the very least ensure that he has not begun to lose all wit and reason.¡±


    Father sighed, ¡°Very well, I suppose we can abandon plans for a proper dinner. However, I have one condition.¡±


    I knew what he was going to request, and I couldn¡¯t help but frown.


    ¡°Abigale, no faces. Phillip will be accompanying his parents and I would like you to at least acknowledge his attentions to you.¡±


    Thomas was grinning, ¡°Have we grown so very desperate then?¡±


    I glared at Thomas though father seemed to ignore him, ¡°It is not a terrible match. While so many others are selling or renting their estates to merchants and foreigners,Lord Bankes is one of the few doing quite well for himself and even gaining influence in the House of Lords.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, I shall attempt an exchange with Phillip. I promise he shall receive whole words and perhaps even complete sentences from me.¡±


    Father considered me for a moment, ¡°It is all I ask, and as much as I feared.¡±


    ¡°I suspect we shall hardly notice dear Phillip whilst the Mechanical Man is seated at our table,¡± Thomas finished excitedly as father returned to his reading.


    It might be prudent to explain a little about myself before I describe the dreadful affair that was our dinner. I am opinionated and a little stubborn, which my father often tells me is a terrible combination for a woman. Of course, every time he tells me that he finishes with a smile and says ¡°just like your mother.¡± So it is with great pride that I share my opinions and argue incessantly when others disagree. Thomas insists there will never be a man suitably braveenough to wed me.


    ¡°Perhaps I should like to be a spinster,¡± I tell him.


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯ve learned to spin?¡±


    ¡°Certainly not, but how hard can it be?¡±


    ¡°Oh dear. I shall write the convent straight away.¡±


    Father has tried to his best, but truthfully, I have yet to meet a man of standing that I should like to spend the rest of my life with. Inevitably, they all tend to be arrogant men who believe a name is enough to ensure one¡¯s praise. They often open their mouth but rarely does anything of interest or importance ever escape. I¡¯ve had better conversations with Mr. Harlow, our carriage driver and he has never had a bit of schooling. Social standing leaves much to be desired.


    I realize all of this is no excuse for poor behavior at a dinner party, but I do not suffer fools, and while the Bankes may have only a lordship they certainly reign as kings of the fools. The Bankes arrived first and were shown to the parlor by our butler, Mr. Pitt. We politely exchanged greetings and then through subtle maneuverings, that I confess I was not alert enough to catch, I found myself most regrettably engaged by Phillip.


    ¡°Ah, Lady Fairfax you are as lovely as¡­ a¡­ well¡­ in the spring¡­as a,¡± he floundered verbally as he surveyed my features, ¡°well as lovely as ever I suppose. Quite. Yes,¡± he paused again waiting for the response he had not earned. ¡°I had the most exhilarating hunt this past month. Everyone said I rode brilliantly and that my hounds were the best bred they had ever seen. The dastardly fox had nearly gone to ground but my lads flushed him back out and straight back into my sights. Bang on!¡±


    Unfortunately he continued on in this manner for some time until we heard the rest of the conversation had made its way to our surprise dinner guests.


    ¡°I hope it¡¯s no trouble,¡± my father said, ¡°but we will be having two other guests tonight. Thomas took it upon himself to invite Doctor Blyth, and evidently he will be bringing his¡­ creation.¡±


    ¡°Ah yes,¡± Lord Bankes said with interest, ¡°I¡¯ve heard of the thing. Quite the contraption as I understand it.¡±


    ¡°Ghastly business if you ask me,¡± his wife added, ¡°working with corpses like that¡­¡±


    ¡°I heard the corpse was very much alive,¡± I pointed out.


    ¡°Was, indeed. So much the worse, then.¡±


    ¡°I suspect Mary Shelley would have been rather intrigued had she lived to see it,¡± I said.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m unfamiliar with her, dear,¡± Lady Bankes replied.


    ¡°An author. Rather imaginative.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see. I avoid books myself. They weaken the mind, and age a girl so.¡±


    ¡°Yes, a bad habit of mine. Certainly would not want intelligence stripping me of my youthful bloom.¡±


    ¡°We are trying to get her to quit,¡± Thomas added with his subtle smirk.


    Phillip nodded. ¡°Good man, Thomas. A man must protect his sister after all even from her own willfulness,¡± he sagely explained.


    Moments later, Mr. Pitt announced Dr. Blyth and Mr. Dowling. All eyes turned to the machine as it entered the parlor.

 Chapter 2: A Model of Scientific Potential

    Mr. Dowling was not quite the machine Thomas had described. His skeleton and inner workings were now hidden by a canvas skin that covered anything not enclosed beneath hiswell-fitted suit. Not that the presence of the machinery could be entirely concealed. The Mechanical Man rattled with every movement he made. After the general greetings, Doctor Blyth introduced his achievement.


    ¡°This is Peter Dowling, a young man who would have died in ages past, but today has been saved by the advances of modern science. ¡°


    ¡°Fascinating, is he not?¡± asked Thomas by way of introductions.


    ¡°How ingenious,¡± Lord Bankes said, eyeing the machine. Lady Bankes merely frowned while Phillip simply smiled. Or perhaps smiled simply, would be the better way to put it.


    ¡°How nice to see you again,¡± Thomas said loudly.


    ¡°A pleasure, Lord Fairfax,¡± the Mechanical Man responded, with a voice void of emotion or inflection.


    ¡°It speaks!¡± Lord Bankes laughed, quickly joined by his son.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Doctor Blyth said, ¡°and you can actually speak with your normal voice. He will hear you all just fine and respond in kind.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I apologize,¡± Thomas said.


    ¡°What should we say to it?¡± Lady Bankes asked.


    ¡°Anything you like.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Dowling,¡± I said, ¡°Welcome to Clifton Manor.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, my Lady,¡± was its monotone reply.


    I noticed my father had yet to speak. ¡°Dowling¡­¡± he was watching his unusual guest with a great deal of attention. ¡°You were that young porter from the village, yes?¡±


    ¡°That is correct, sir,¡± Mr. Dowling said bowing nearly his whole torso and head in affirmation.


    ¡°Our Mr. Harlow spoke well of you. Deliveries were always on time.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, sir. A man should take pride in the work he does,¡± though there was little pride in the response.


    ¡°Mechanical peasantry, is it? I confess doctor, I see only improvements here, certainly will save us a good deal of grief if this catches on,¡± Phillip chortled heartily at his own wit and his parents shared a proud smile. The doctor managed what I would call an embarrassed sort of laugh, as polite manners left him little choice, but Mr. Dowling betrayed no emotion, not that he could, which may have been an unexpected blessing at that moment for I confess I could not suppress my own disgust.


    Dinner was announced thus preventing me from sharing a few words that Phillip¡¯s latest witticism had earned and as we moved to the dining room. I was pleased to find myself seated opposite Mr. Dowling.


    I quickly regained my composure and struck up a conversation in earnest, ¡°Pardon my silly question, but do you eat?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I no longer require food,¡± was his plain reply.


    ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± Dr. Blyth explained. ¡°He does not require food to provide the energy to power his body, as it does in the rest of us.¡±


    ¡°I see you¡¯ve added a type of skin to his exposed extremities,¡± Thomas noted.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Dr. Blyth said. ¡°Many people commented that he was unsettling without it. Though it was just a bit of clockwork. Imagine how any of our fine company would look without our skin.¡±


    ¡°I daresay such canvas trappings make it look all the more unnatural,¡± I heard Lady Bankes whisper to her husband. I noticed Mr. Dowling¡¯seyes swivel in her direction and realized he had heard it as well.


    ¡°And a fine skin it is,¡± I said for his benefit.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he replied.


    ¡°I hope it is but a start. I have begun a correspondence with a few other learned colleagues and we hope to devise an epidermis of a more aesthetically standard variety,¡± Dr. Blythe began informing us.


    To be honest, I paid the doctor little mind at all, so intrigued was I with this mechanical man. Barely did I remember Mr. Dowling making his deliveries to the manor. The contraption before me certainly bore little resemblance to the man in my memory. ¡°If I might ask another silly question?¡±


    ¡°Of course, my lady. Please. Anything.¡±


    ¡°Is it very different being in a mechanical body? Do you remember what it was like before?¡±


    ¡°I do. The good doctor saved me, but¡­ it is a new feeling. It is¡­cold I suppose. I have memories of my life before. It was filled with sensations, good and bad, which do not exist for me anymore. I miss them at times¡­


    ¡°I apologize, if I upset you.¡±


    At that Lady Bankes barely contained a laugh and Phillip declared, ¡°Grand, simply grand. Its reactions are almost believable.¡±


    While Mr. Dowling quietly assured me, ¡°No apology necessary, my Lady.¡±


    Dr. Blythe seemed a little alarmed by this melancholy turn in our conversation and attempted to expound upon the benefits of his procedure.


    ¡°But just think Lord Fairfax, if we¡¯d had this procedure those years long ago now we might have been able to save your wife and child. Lady Fairfax certainly,¡± the doctor suddenly seemed lost within is own thoughts verbally articulated by quite mumbles and mutterings before continuing. ¡°As to the viability of a developing mind finding the sustenance and nourishment required for customary growth and maturity would be quite another matter.¡±


    ¡°Dr. Blythe I cannot question the success of your experiment which sits, even now, in evidence at my very diner table; further more, I find it well beyond my providence to pass judgment upon you or your procedure; for indeed, does it not lie with Providence itself? Can you deny the Lord above His right to determine all matters in life and death,¡± Lord Fairfax paused a moment to consider the mechanical man across from him. ¡°Lady Fairfax was an amazing woman. That I have never remarried ought to give in its own right a recommendation concerning her outstanding character, favorable disposition, and sweet temperament. Her passing came as such a blow to us all here at Clifton Manor. But we have found solace in the knowledgethat it was time for her to return home to paradise and await her family¡¯s coming.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Lord Fairfax, I did not mean to dredge up old wounds,¡± offered Blythe.


    ¡°No, indeed, I am aware and understand your intentions doctor. But let me make this clear: had your procedure been feasible when she¡­ then, I am inclined to believe I would have declined your offer. Death is not simply a sickness one can heal, in point of fact, it is our final reward, and we who are we to deny Our Lord¡¯s summons? Her choice would have been paradise above or¡­¡± father gestured then toward the Mechanical Man with such a look in his eyes that I have rarely seen before or since. It was neither hate nor disgust, but rather a quiet and empathetic pathos. ¡°And yet, behold our guest. Mr. Dowling , I lost my wife when this procedure did not exist, as such, it was easy enough to see the Lord¡¯s plan. But it seems He, through the good doctor, offered you something else and perhaps He has yet more for you to do on this Earth before you can claim your reward.¡±


    ¡°My lord, that is very kind of you to say. In my heart¡­ my mind rather I suppose, I wonder at these same things, and so¡­ thank you, Lord Fairfax,¡± The Mechanical Man¡¯s torso and head tilted forward, bowing.


    ¡°Well now that¡¯s all well and good, Doctor, though perhaps a bit highfalutin and ethereal by my measure, but you¡¯ve yet to answer the most important question,¡± Lord Bankesseemed topause for effect and to ensure we were all listening to his sage question. ¡°What will you do with it?¡±


    ¡°Do with it? I¡¯m not sure I follow your line of inquiry my lord,¡± Dr. Blythe responded seeming confused.


    ¡°What my father means is why build the contraption in the first place. What¡¯s its intended function?¡± clarified Phillip.


    ¡°Well, he will live his life to the best of his ability. He will be a model of the scientific potential now open to man.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but what can it do? Is it capable of labor? I recently introduced the threshing machine onto my estate and was able to decrease the number of required workmen, improving overall profits. Will this thing be capable of replacing human tenants?¡±


    ¡°Lord Bankes, I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t follow you,¡± Dr. Blyth said. ¡°He is still a living person. If you¡¯re asking what his talents are, they are whatever Mr. Dowling is good at.¡±


    ¡°I see. You had best get that sorted, give it some kind of good function or I¡¯m afraid it will never gain wide spread support like that ingenious thresher,¡± was Lord Bankes reply.


    The Mechanical Man, Peter Dowling said nothing. For a moment everyone was quiet. I was growing rather weary of Lord Bankes¡¯ treatment of our more honored guest and so I asked, ¡°Mr. Dowling, what are your talents?¡±


    ¡°Well, few to speak of, m¡¯lady.I started work when I was ten. I used to be pretty strong I suppose, but then being a porter doesn¡¯t leave time for much besides carrying things and the like.¡±


    ¡°Ah, there you have it doctor,¡± Phillip loudly proclaimed, ¡°Reinforce the joints and what have you and you¡¯ll have an excellent mechanical porter.¡± Lord and Lady Bankes shared a loving smile over their son¡¯s cleverness.


    ¡°Speaking of talents,¡± Phillip said to me changing the subject, ¡°Thomas was telling me you had taken up piano playing. As you know I am quite accomplished with the piano as well. Perhaps we can treat our dear families to a duet after dinner and you can learn from a true master.¡±


    ¡°Thomas is generous,¡± I replied coldly. ¡°I lack the dexterity for the piano.¡±


    ¡°Which reminds me,¡± my father added in a vain attempt to lighten the mood and dispel the mounting tension, ¡°I have an unused piano if anyone is interested in acquiring one.¡±


    ¡°You see,¡± I explained, ¡°Like Mr. DowlingI fear I have few talents to speak of and certainly no strength of arm.¡±


    Phillip laughed politely beside me, ¡°Now, now. There is a difference between a person having no talent and a machine lacking purpose.¡±


    I should like to think Phillip meant to insult me, but I suspect he had no idea he did so.


    ¡°Surely there is something,¡± Lady Bankes said. ¡°How is your singing voice?¡±


    ¡°Sadly, atrocious.¡±


    ¡°Poetry then,¡± Phillip suggested, ¡°Such a well read woman must appreciate poetry.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve no ear for it, nor the memory needed for recitation.¡±


    ¡°Ah, painting,¡± Lord Bankes proposed. ¡°My sister loves painting.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, I¡¯ve no eye for painting. There are so many shapes and colours that I just can¡¯t seem to capture, try as I might.¡±


    ¡°My daughter is being humble,¡± Father stated. ¡°She has a great many talents.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Lady Bankes asked. ¡°She seems to have dismissed any and all.¡±


    ¡°In any case,¡± Lord Bankes said, ¡°back to my question, what good is a machine if it can¡¯t do anything.¡±


    ¡°Lord Bankes¡­¡± my father began gently,but I had reached the end of my tolerance for such gross bigotry and swiftly interrupted.


    ¡°What my father is about to politely say is, the ¡®machine¡¯ as you keep calling it, is in fact a young man named Peter Dowling whose life was recently saved by the skilled hands of Dr. Blyth. Mr. Dowling certainly has a lifetime of hardships ahead and it would certainly be a kindness on your part were you to cease reference to an ¡®it¡¯ and acknowledge his continued humanity with, ¡®he¡¯.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll note she does have some talent with words,¡± Thomas suggested to Lady Bankes.


    ¡°Much appreciated, my lady, thank you,¡± Mr. Dowling said. ¡°But, please, I don¡¯t want to cause any trouble.¡±


    ¡°Ms. Fairfax, I suggest you guard that tongue of yours. Such speech ill befits a lady¡¯s address to a Lord,¡± Lady Bankes declared. ¡°And one need only look at this thing to see it is a machine. Let the mechanicals deal with its clockwork innards.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe that we are capable of determining that,¡± My father said gently.


    ¡°Bit more than clockwork, begging your pardon my lady, but the mechanisms by which the body interacts with the brain and then¡­¡± Dr. Blythe noticed then the glazed expression taking hold of Lady Bankes¡¯ features and opted for a different track. ¡°I assure you, this young man is very much alive,¡± Dr. Blyth insisted.


    ¡°Nonsense,¡± Lady Bankes insisted, ¡°It has no heart. No soul.¡±


    ¡°As far as I recall the location of our immortal soul has never been determined. Perhaps we should ask him,¡± Thomas suggested. ¡°Mr. Dowling, are you alive? Still in possession of a soul? Some soul?Hopefully yours?¡±


    ¡°I believe I am,¡± he answered without emotion.


    ¡°Cogito, ergo sum,¡± I noted.¡° which is more than I can say for some at this table.¡±


    ¡°Been reading books again, dear sister?¡± Thomas asked with a glance around the table to find mostly blank looks on the faces of the Bankes¡¯.


    ¡°He thinks, therefore he is,¡± I translated, rather slowly for their benefit and couldn¡¯t resist a quiet whisper to Mr. Dowling, ¡°which is more than I can say for some at this table.¡±


    ¡°Thinking hardly makes it human,¡± Lord Bankes pointed out. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I must agree with my wife. I¡¯d no more sit a spinning jenny at my dinner table than I would a mechanical man. Perhaps as some light entertainment to finish the evening. Might it be taught a bit of pantomime?¡±


    ¡°Regardless of our views,¡± Father said gravely, ¡°it is ill mannered and insulting to discuss such opinions in front of Dr. Blyth and Mr. Dowling. Nor do I appreciate your insinuations concerning the quality of this evening¡¯s table.¡±


    ¡°Well, it was not I who spoiled the company,¡± Lord Bankes began. ¡°Nor I who began the discussion but by jove I will give an honest account. And Dr. Blyth needs to be made to see the limitations of his device as they are. No doubt it could be a great tool of industry as soon as he works free from this strange illusion that this contraption is in anyway human beyond its structural frame.¡±


    ¡°Hear, hear!¡± Phillip agreed.


    Peter was staring at the table and I could feel my anger rising.


    ¡°Perhaps our evening is at an end,¡± Father suggested.


    ¡°I believe you are correct,¡± Lord Bankes agreed, ¡°Let us leave this unpleasant evening behind us. Perhaps your Mr. Pitt would be so kind as to help Dr. Blythe remove his little invention and allow us to settle back into more staid diversions.¡±


    I should have let the conversation end there, but I simply could not help myself.


    ¡°Lord Bankes, I believe you might be right about painting.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± Lord Bankes asked curiously.


    ¡°Of all the talents I lack, I think I should most like to revisit painting. I may yet have a knack for it. If I were to become an accomplished painterI should like very much to paint your portrait. I would accentuate your beard and perhaps exaggerate the size of your teeth, while elongating your face as a whole. Then I would add two long, furry ears protruding from under that pompous hat you wear. I would then give you the portrait to hang above your mantle. That way you would always have a reminder of your true nature and all your guests will be able to look upon it and recognize you for the ass that you are!¡±


    Lord Bankes was shocked beyond words but his wife did manage an appalled, ¡°How dare you!¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll paint one in a similar fashion for Lady Bankes! Phillip too, except his will simply be the back end of a horse! Good evening!¡±


    With that, I stormed off to bed, where I was to lie awake thinking of so many other things I would like to say to Lord and Lady Bankes. Amazingly as I left the room I had heard only stunned silence.

 Chapter 3: Necromancy Indeed!

    I saw neither my father nor Thomas until brunch the following day. I had been beside myself all morning worried what they might say about my outburst. When I arrived, the three of us exchanged greetings and then silently sipped our tea. Mercifully, father broke the silence.


    ¡°Upon reflection, I feel Phillip, and the connection he would bring, may not be a suitable match for you or this family. You needn¡¯t speak to him again.¡±


    ¡°Oh, father!¡± I breathed a sigh of relief.


    ¡°Just when she finally has plenty to say,¡± Thomas shook his head. ¡°Shame.¡±


    ¡°I thought for sure you would both be cross with me for speaking as I had.¡±


    ¡°My dear,¡± Father Soothed, ¡°I admit to a brief moment of horror when you called Lord Bankes an¡­¡±


    ¡°Ass, I believe it was,¡± Thomas finished.


    ¡°But,¡± father continued with a glare, ¡°I soon realized you had spoken my own thoughts. I admire your bravery in doing so.¡±


    ¡°I was about to insult them myself,¡± Thomas agreed, ¡°but you beat me to it.¡±


    ¡°I apologize for stealing your moment.¡±


    ¡°It is good that you did. I was going to call Lord Bankes a trained ape. Yours was much better.¡±


    ¡°How were Dr. Blyth and Mr. Dowling? I regret storming out without wishing them a good evening.¡±


    ¡°They survived,¡± Father assured me, ¡°and you will get your chance. I felt terrible about the whole affair and invited them back for dinner tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°That was very kind of you,¡° I said, ¡°If I might ask, what are your views on poor Mr. Dowling?¡±


    ¡°Well, call it noblesse oblige, or perhaps I simply would show the quality hospitality that Clifton Manor can proved when we are not plagued by ill mannered louts,¡± Father thought a moment more. ¡°Regardless, Thomas was right and Mr. Dowling certainly deserves better treatment.¡±


    ¡°I would like to note,¡± Thomas interjected, ¡°that you referred to Mr. Dowling several times as ¡®him¡¯ and not ¡®it,¡¯ which I approve of. He¡¯s more life like than Phillip in any case.


    I was pleased that father and Thomas did not share the views of the Bankes. I admit, I had not initially thought of Mr. Dowling as a person, but as a novelty or quaint invention. That judgment was in error. I hoped many more would come to the same conclusion. Mr. Dowling was not a machine, but a miracle.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    My hopes were soon dashed with the arrival of The Bristol Times and Echo. I was reading a book in the garden when Thomas approached with the paper in hand.


    ¡°Have you seen this?¡± I asked Thomas showing him my book. ¡°From the preeminent John Stuart Mill.¡±


    ¡°The Subjection of Woman?¡± Thomas said reading the cover.


    ¡°You must remember, it caused a bit of a commotion just a few years ago. He suggested there needs to be equality between the sexes. Do you suppose I ought to send Philip a copy?¡± I asked smiling, still enjoying the rather exquisite day.


    ¡°I suppose I have not. But have you seen this? Father advised me to hide it way from you for fear that your indignation should lead you to violence or at the very least, further utterance of stronger obscenities.¡±


    I took the paper from his hand and read the headline, ¡°Mechanical Man Denounced by the Church, but why would...¡±


    Thomas sat as I read the article and while I did not look up I knew he was watching me with that half grin, waiting for my inevitable reaction.


    ¡°¡­Father Joseph of Bristol¡¯s own St. Mary Redcliffe witnessed the machine¡¯s unwholesome unveiling¡­ Declared it an affront to God?!¡±


    ¡°Your face is starting to redden,¡± Thomas noted.


    ¡°¡­Faults Dr. Blyth¡¯s excessive pride and unseemly hubris¡­ condemns his so-called experiment as dangerous dabbling in necromancy¡­ encourages everyone to speak out against the devil¡¯s work¡­ do not entertain Dr. Blyth and his creation?!How is it the devil¡¯s work to save a man¡¯s life?!¡±


    ¡°Oh that is a brilliant shade of red,¡± Thomas said, then turned serious. ¡°Read the end.¡±


    I read in silence, too angry to speak until I came to the horrid conclusion.


    ¡°Did Father Joseph just encourage murder?¡±


    Thomas nodded grimly, ¡°Though, I suppose, not in so many words.¡±


    ¡°I am fairly certain if you dismantle, as he so ardently encourages, a man who is dependent upon his mechanical body in order to remain alive that still qualifies as murder.¡±


    He nodded again, ¡°I am all agreement. Sadly, he seems to have been gaining a fair amount of support in Bristol since the unveiling. We are going to do something, correct?¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s father?¡±


    ¡°In the study, deciding whether or not to cancel dinner tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Come along,¡± And with that grim orderI stormed into the house, straight to Father¡¯s study. Thomas later informed me that our maid, Miss Jenkins, scurried from my path in terror. I am still not sure if he was joking.


    ¡°Father!¡± I declared, barging into the study. ¡°I have read the paper and I am appalled! Appalled! I am furious! But not half as furious as I will be if you fold to this bigotry and fear mongering! Oh, you may send Dr. Blyth and Mr. Dowling away, but don¡¯t think that will stop me. I am a grown woman with my own mind and I will attend dinner at their home because I will visit whom I like and, what is more, saving a life as Dr. Blythe did is nothing short of a miracle, necromancy indeed!Is it a witch hunt this Father Joseph is trying to incite?¡±


    ¡°If I might halt you there,¡± Father said calmly but sternly, ¡°I have decided not to cancel our plans.¡± I noticed then the presence of Mr. Pitt and Mrs. Palmer standing just before my father. I felt a flush creep up into my cheeks, given my outburst.


    ¡°Oh. Well¡­ good. I support your decision.¡±


    Thomas was beside himself in the doorway.


    ¡°We will have our dinner and help the good Doctor decide how to proceed. In fact we had just been discussing,¡± father said gesturing to Mr. Pitt and Mrs. Palmer who were politely avoiding eye contact with me and acting as if they had not heard a thing, ¡°how best to create a meal to satisfy a man who no longer requires substance or nourishment.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± I said backing slowly to the door. ¡°That is very considerate, yes. Well then, carry on, Mr. Pitt, Mrs. Palmer, good day.¡±

 Chapter 4. I Would Laugh

    The arrival of Dr. Blyth and Mr. Dowling was a somber affair. Father and Thomas spoke at length with Dr. Blyth. I took the opportunity to converse with Mr. Dowling and invited him to walk the garden with me.


    ¡°I apologize for my departure the other night. It was most unladylike.¡±


    ¡°Quite all right, my lady, better to escape when you did,¡± Mr. Dowling said without emotion. ¡°Lord Bankes face after yourinsult was the pinnacle of the evening. Really, thank you for that. I couldn¡¯t say it.¡±


    Mr. Dowling rattled with every step and I couldn¡¯t help but smile.


    ¡°Did you read TheTimes and Echo?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I did. I was rather angry.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°So many of this Father Joseph¡¯s claims were completely preposterous. I daresay Dr. Blythe is no necromancer.¡±


    ¡°The Doctor had introduced me to Father Joseph at my unveiling. He had said very little. I had no idea he felt so strongly about my existence.¡±


    ¡°They are hateful words. You must ignore them as we are.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but he seeks the support of the Church of England. I may have more than just Bristol against me.¡±


    ¡°One man hardly represents all the Church of England. What of Father Hughes down in the village?¡± I asked wondering if our own parish had turned it¡¯s back on Mr. Downling as well.


    ¡°He has called on the doctor every day. He sees I am still me. Prays with me too, asking God to watch after me and reward me for this ordeal. Says I¡¯m a bit like Job, my suffering is a test.¡±


    ¡°That is positive news then. Perhaps he might be able to counter the boisterous denunciations of Father Joseph. Regardless, he is quite right, you must have faith.¡±


    ¡°I am trying,¡± Mr. Dowling said. ¡°We did have good news. The Royal Society of London congratulated Dr. Blyth on his achievement. They declared their support as well.


    ¡°Good news? That is wonderful news!¡± I declared.¡°You see, the arguments of learned men with milder dispositions and calmer minds will win out.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¡­¡± Mr. Dowling seemed to trail off for the moment.


    ¡°But what?¡± I asked.


    ¡°What if Father Joseph is right?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be absurd-¡°


    ¡°Listen to me, my body clinking and rattling. My voice is flat. My face incapable of emotion. AmI a soulless invention,crafted through devilry?Built by a man challenging God.¡±


    ¡°If I might be direct, you are entirely wrong. Dr. Blyth is a good man. He saved you because he cares about his patients. When my mother died, he did all he could to save her life. I know her death took a toll on him. I believehe desperately wantsto make sure he does not lose another patient when it can be prevented. His medicine and science saved you. So please never doubt his intentions or lose faith in him. All he has done, I believe, is the result of the most extraordinary form of selflessness.


    ¡°As for you, Mr. Dowling, you are more than a machine. You are a man, a mechanical man yes, but a man to be sure. While you may not see it, you are perfectly capable of conveying as much emotion as anyone. It is in the way you move and carry yourself. It is in the words you choose to use and the thoughts you voice. The state of your soul is for no man to judge. I am no theologian, but it seems intact to me. For all of us, they say, our body is but a cage, a vessel for our soul. Yours seems to be as much a vessel as mine or any other, except perhaps it has a tendency to rattle a bit more.¡±


    He stopped walking then and looked down at his rickety frame then watched as he walked, ¡°It does, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    I laughed, ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s ok.¡±


    ¡°I apologize,¡± he said with a stiff bow.


    ¡°No, it is a comforting rattle. Reassuring in a way.¡±


    ¡°You are kind.¡±


    ¡°My brother would say you haven¡¯t known me long enough.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°If I had the ability, I would laugh.¡±


    ¡°Well, it is my pleasure to grant you a bit of mirth and perhaps we should ask the good doctor it were possible to create some type of laughter mechanism.¡±


    ¡°Yes, perhaps. I miss laughing.¡±


    ¡°Just remember that you are not a machine. You are truly a miracle.¡±


    This time he stopped suddenly. I waited a moment. He was looking right at me with his emotionless face and empty eyes. His mouth seemed to be trying to work, to say something but no sound would come.


    ¡°Mr. Dowling, are you quite all right?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­¡± I was relieved to hear his voice again. ¡°My lady, you are wrong. I am a machine. I am not me.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been here before. Not the garden but to the house. I Even saw you once or twice taking a turn outside. Though I was flesh and blood then, of a similar age with you and healthy, you never noticed me,¡± his monotone voice paused for just a moment.


    ¡°Mr. Dowling¡­¡±


    ¡°Because I am a machine, I am strolling with you at your manor, in your garden. Because Mr. Dowling, the mechanical man, is a novelty you have taken notice and come to my defense. But Peter Dowling the porter¡­ someone would have removed him from the grounds if he¡¯d tried this.¡±


    I felt my own shame climbing up into my throat. I couldn¡¯t deny any of his claims. Not truly. Father had remembered his name and the work he had done for us. Not I. That first night we met I just wanted to see the latest novelty in Rothsfield. I thought I had seen the man inside, I thought I had seen past the fa?ade of the machine. I felt so superior in my indignation for the Bankes¡¯, so justified in my anger and yet I had to wonder if they had managed to be more honest than I had. I did not know the name Peter Dowling until it became the name of the Mechanical Man.


    I looked into his empty eyes. Eyes that suddenly seemed far more sad than empty. Sad and disappointed by the fact that despite how much everything can change it yet remains just as it was. I knew, with a pang of guilt and regret, that when I heard the name Peter Dowling the only face I would conjure in my mind¡¯s eye would be this, the cold emotionless face of the machine and not the face of the man.The face I did not know simply because I had never noticed it.


    ¡°I would apologize, and I do, and yet that feels hollow,¡± I began and as he tried to wave the thought away with jerk of his arm I continued. ¡°Regrettably, you are right. I don¡¯t remember¡­ but others do. There are plenty of other people in Rothsfield who will remember the face of Peter Dowling. Your face.The sound of yourvoice, yourlaugh, and youreyes. I don¡¯t want to let them forget. Lord Bankes, unlike I or my father, would still never invite you his home. He suffered your presence as he was caught unawares, but even then he never saw anything more than a contraption to profit from placed before him.


    ¡°I did not know you before but I believe I can honestly say that I wish I had,at the very least, made your acquaintance. I want¡­ I want to be your friend Mr. Dowling and ensure that no one forgets that inside of these rattling bones is the soul of Peter Dowling, a brave man who has simply taken to an unusual means of conveyance.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ I do have a shortage of friends, just of late.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope the shortage doesn¡¯t last long.¡±


    By dinner, the mood had lightened. Dr. Blyth had my father¡¯s support, as well as Thomas¡¯, and both had promised to help put him in touch with everyone they knew with any influence. The more men of standing that spoke out for Mr. Dowling, the better. Humor returned to the table and laughter abounded, more than a little at the expense of the Bankes.


    After dinner, we retired to the music room. Though as we stood to leave, Mr. Dowling stumbled slightly before sitting back in the chair.


    ¡°Mr. Dowling,¡± Thomas asked, ¡°are you all right, my good man?¡±


    Dr. Blyth rushed to his side.


    ¡°It is nothing. Just a minor¡­ joint problem,¡± Mr. Dowling assured us in his ever-calm voice.


    ¡°This one knee has started locking up once in a while,¡± Dr. Blyth confirmed. ¡°Not to worry, it just needs some minor alterations.¡±


    Mr. Dowling was soon back on his feet and after playing a round of cards with Father and Dr. Blyth, joined Thomas and I at the small piano.


    ¡°Giving up on cards so soon?¡± I asked.


    ¡°What little luck I¡¯d had with cards was all self made,¡± came his emotionless reply, ¡°And now my dexterity is not what it once was. I¡¯m no challenge at all.¡±


    ¡°A self-declared cheat. The scandal of it!¡± I gasped in feigned shock.


    ¡°First day with the new hands? I suppose a soulless cheat needs time to adjust,¡± Thomas laughed at himself.


    ¡°You¡¯re terrible!¡± I scolded, ¡°A promising Bankes is what you are.¡±


    ¡°Now, now, Abi. I only joke with the ones I like.¡±


    ¡°His humor is appreciated, my Lady,¡± Mr. Dowling assured.


    ¡°You would have laughed?¡±


    ¡°I would¡¯ve laughed.¡±


    Itried to imagine what his laugh might have sounded like and did my best to imagine the poor porter I had never known.


    ¡°Abigale,¡±father said, ¡°won¡¯t you and Thomas play us something? Perhaps that one you enjoy so much?¡±


    ¡°I was under the impression you did not play,¡± Mr. Dowling said.


    ¡°Yes, well, sometimes I lie. This is a favorite of mine. This is Leybach¡¯s Fifth Nocturne.¡±


    Thomas and I played together as Mr. Dowling watched and listened. Even Father and Dr. Blyth paused their game. When we had finished, they gave us a round of applause, Mr. Dowling¡¯s rattling arms and clinking hands distinct above all else.


    Before parting for the evening, Mr. Dowling made it a point to thank us all.


    ¡°None of you have any reason to help me. Yet you do. All I can offer in return is my gratitude,for what it is worth,¡± Mr. Dowling said as he looked at each of us in turn.


    ¡°Mr. Dowling your gratitude is worth more than anything we possess. Every man decides his own just rewards by his actions. The animosity you have received is hardly fitting and I believe we have an obligation to set an example for more noble conduct. If you are any indication the future yet holds wonders beyond our imagining,¡± my father responded.


    ¡°You will always have friends in this house,¡± I assured him. ¡°I am simply sorry you didn¡¯t have them sooner.¡±


    Father and Thomas shook his hand, wishing him well and assuring him they would do everything in their power to help him. He gave me a creaking bow.

 Chapter 5. Inconvenience the Ignorant

    The following day, as father and Thomas set to work preparing to send letters and telegrams to Church leaders and men of influence, I found myself with a desire to act as well. My thoughts had often drifted back to the article in the Times and Echo and I decided a response was needed. Such a one sided attack from outsiders lacking in compassion and understanding could not go unanswered. So I set to work drafting my rebuttal. When, after the better part of a day, I had completed my work I brought it to Father and Thomas for their thoughts. It read thusly:


    Peter Dowling is has been a resident of the village of Rothesfield for three and twenty years, which accounts for the entirety of his life. He has worked for many years as a dependable porter, well known, well respected, and well loved by those that know him. But one day he began to grow weaker. His work became difficult. He paid a visit on the tireless and hard-working Dr. Blythe, also of Rothesfield for more than thirty years, who had the unfortunate duty to diagnosis Mr. Dowling with a severe case of consumption. Without extraordinary measures Mr. Dowling would die. However, Dr. Blythe had one revolutionary medical and scientific procedure, which could save the young man¡¯s life.


    Today, Mr. Dowling is still alive. He is still able to enjoy pleasant company and the unexpected vagaries of life.He has known but one small change; he is now wholly dependent upon an external prosthesis for life. Unfortunately, because of this he has been labeled a mechanical man. Some use this appellation to suggest that he is somehow less than a man or some monstrosity crafted by dark magics.


    The truth is far simpler and more wondrous. He is a man who has lived a tragic life and whose continued existence is nothing short of miraculous. Had Mr. Dowling been born in any other period of history, the Consumption with which he suffered would have certainly taken his life. It is with great awe that I note we are beyond those days. We are the residents of a modern world capable of incredible achievements. Mr. Dowling is alive because he was granted a new body when his old one failed him. His life was not cut short, but allowed to continue.


    This fine paper has offered a fair deal of reportage concerning the public¡¯s fear of Mr. Downling, including fears that he is not a man at all but rather a soulless automaton, or worse yet, a dark product of foul necromancy. It is with great shame that I admit I too shared the misconceptions. I thought of him as a machine, an ¡®it,¡¯ but I was so very wrong. I was blessed with the opportunity to personally meet with Mr. Dowling and I can confirm that he is no mere machine. He is a man, a human being, who retains all the same hopes and fears. He feels the same emotions that any person feels, and so I ask you, dear readers, is this all we have to offer Peter Dowling? A human life was saved, and he is greeted with a display of fear and prejudice. Make no mistake, Mr. Dowling can read and he read the article as well. I was there and watched this poor man hang his head in shame and doubt at the miracle that is his second chance at life. We, the people of Rothsfieldsupport our friend Peter Dowling, so long a member of this community. Now I ask those of Bristol and of all of England,those who claim to be good Christian men and women, God has granted this man continued life. Who are we to call him a monster? Where is our brotherly love and compassion?


    Contrary to what some would claim, the miracle of modern science that saved Mr. Dowling¡¯s life is not the Devil¡¯s work.Doctor Blyth had the ability to save Mr. Dowling¡¯s life. He used his God given talents to keep a young man alive. This is the work of a good man tasked with saving and preserving life whenever possible. I ask you now, if we have the ability to save a life, do we not also have the moral responsibility to do so?


    There has been a call to ¡°dismantle¡± Mr. Dowling. What does it mean to dismantle a human being? If a whaler should lose his leg during the course of his duties, and affixes a wooden peg to act as replacement, should we condemn that man for his peg leg simply because it is not made of flesh and blood? That while the means exist to ease his sufferings he not be allowed to use them? I pray the very notion reads as folly for that is what it is. For Mr. Dowling his body is that peg leg. It is a crutch to ease his suffering. Nothing more than that.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Some have claimed that Mr. Dowling is a soulless machine. In truth, I know not the state of his soul. No one among us does. However, I do know mine should be troubled if I failed to help a man in need. Mr. Dowling is in need. I urge you, dear reader, to look past your fears and see the man inside the machine. Let us not persecute his existence, but celebrate his life. Let us not judge Doctor Blyth and Mr. Dowling, lest we be judged as well. Instead, let us open our hearts to Peter Dowling. Let us not persecute his existence, but celebrate his life.


    Thomas approved of my sentiments, as did Father, though he warned me that not everyone would agree. He feared I may earn myself a few enemies with such a letter. Nevertheless,it was with great pride and a sense of accomplishment that I proofread my letter once again. It was too late in the day to depart for Bristol but I arranged for our carriage to be prepared early the next morning. I passed a restless night as I tried to imagine what tomorrow would bring. I was intent on personally hand delivering my letter to The Times and Echo¡¯s office.


    ¡°Pleasant day for drive, Lady Fairfax,¡± Mr. Harlow greeted as I approached the carriage before the sun had fully risen. He was a kindly man who had served my family as our driver for as long as I could remember.


    ¡°Indeed it is Mr. Harlow.When you are ready, let us depart. I intendto inconvenience the ignorant.¡±


    ¡°Very good,¡± he laughed as we began our journey.


    Once I arrived at The Bristol Times and Echo, I was shown into Mr. Wadsworth¡¯s office, the editor-in-chief, where he was gracious enough to discuss my submission in person.


    ¡°Lady Fairfax, let me first say how honored we are to have you contribute to our humble newspaper. As I understand it, you have written a piece on the Mechanical Man?¡±


    ¡°Thank you for your kindness, and yes, I found I have a bit to say on the subject.¡±


    ¡°Splendid! I¡¯m sure our readers will be thrilled to have your view on the matter. In fact we will be printing another editorial piece by Lord Bankes. Perhaps they will make the perfect companion pieces.¡±


    ¡°Well, they may¡­¡±


    ¡°Might I read your submission?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I said, handing him my work.


    He eagerly placed his spectacles upon his nose and began to read. I had the suspicion that my work might not be what he was expecting. This was soon confirmed as I watched his smile vanish and his lips purse. He then set my letter down and looked at it for a moment before turning back to me.


    ¡°¡­Lady Fairfax¡­ I¡¯m not sure I can publish this.¡±


    ¡°I am sorry, have I done something wrong? I can write another draft.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that,¡± he hesitated. ¡°It¡¯s written rather well in fact, but¡­ it¡¯s too favorable. Towards the machine I mean.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s the idea. Your paper only printed one side of the argument.¡±


    ¡°That is the overwhelming view here in Bristol and the one which Baron Cramshaw, the owner of this publication favors. Even the Church has denounced it.¡±


    ¡°Father Joseph, you mean.¡±


    ¡°Is there a difference? He is the Church¡¯s representative and a personal friend to the Baron I might add.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry but though he may be the ranking priest at St. Mary Redcliffethat does not make Father Joseph the Archbishop of Canterbury.¡±


    ¡°Maybe so, but this cannot be published.¡±


    ¡°But in Rothsfield, Father Hughes, the head of our parish, actually supports Mr. Dowling. Yet no one has been bothered to ask him or print his views. People need to see there are two sides to this story. And people will want to see that. Imagine if you could print, exclusively, the thoughts of thosewilling to stand up for Mr. Dowling. That is sure to attract some of the Evening Post¡¯s readers.¡±


    ¡°Even if I print it no one will support you,¡± he insisted.


    ¡°Let them decide.¡±


    ¡°You truly want to publically declare your support for this thing.¡±


    ¡°I insist on it.¡±


    He considered me a few moments. I was worried he would remain adamant in his refusal and so it came as quite a relief when he said, ¡°Very well. I think I have a solution that will satisfy all parties involved. And you, Lady Fairfax, will have a headline.¡±


    I left The Times and Echo feeling optimistic. Although, Mr. Wadsworth¡¯s response was both cryptic and slightly disappointing,I was convinced people would begin to see their error once they had read my article.

 Chapter 6. A Womans Voice

    That evening as we returned to Rothsfield I asked Mr. Harlow to take me to Dr. Blyth¡¯s office so that I might deliver the good news. As the carriage neared the Doctor¡¯s office, Mr. Harlow slowed to a stop. I exited, careful not to catch my dress on the carriage step, for a better look at the situation before us. Three men were outside the office, shouting loudly for the doctor. They did not seem pleased.


    ¡°Lady Fairfax?¡± Mr. Harlow asked with concern.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be just moment,¡± I told him.


    I approached the office listening to the three men yelling for Dr. Blyth to open the door and send out the machine. The largest of the men seemed to be leading the disturbance as he stepped up and pounded violently on the office door. His twisted face and hulking form made me think of the ogres from childhood stories. Which I supposed made the smaller two men his goblins.


    ¡°Are you in need of a doctor?¡± I shouted to them.


    Ogre and his goblins ceased their cries and turned towards me.


    ¡°Nah,¡± Ogre grinned unpleasantly,¡± we jus¡¯ want the machine.¡±


    ¡°I do not suspect he would be inclined to see you.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t appear to be men of science; you seem rather unfriendly, and potentially hostile, given your treatment of that poor door. So all in all I¡¯d say that is not a welcoming combination for an evening visit.¡±


    Ogre looked confused for a moment and looked to his goblins for clarification. Their blank stares were apparently no help.


    ¡°It ¡®asn¡¯t got a choice,¡± Ogre declared finally, ¡°but if you want unfrien¡¯ly, we¡¯ll show yaunfrien¡¯ly, pretty girly.¡±


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± I began and allowed an angry and scornful expression to take hold of my features, ¡°I am Lady Abigail Fairfax of Clifton Manor and if you desire to retain any form of livelihood within this county I would advise you to reconsider how you address a woman, and, indeed, reconvene with your senses of which you clearly have taken your leave; then determine just how you ought to conduct yourselves before a Lady.¡±


    I do not know whether it was the unexpected scorn in my voice or rather the sheer amount of verbiage with which I accosted them but regardless of what it was the end result was the same. They stopped and seemed to reevaluate the woman standing before them. It brought me no small measure of satisfaction.


    We were interrupted then by the addition of a new voice, ¡°I think it¡¯s time to be moving along gents.¡±


    I turned to see Constable Doake with Mr. Harlow standing beside him.


    Ogre and his goblins took a moment to assess the situation and eventually decided the Constable¡¯s advice was prudent.


    ¡°Lady Fairfax,¡± Constable Doake said, ¡°perhaps its best you move along too. Those are not the sort of men a lady of your standing should associate with.¡±


    ¡°Thank you Constable, I believe that is sound advice. And thank you Mr. Harlow. Though I daresay I had the situation well in hand. ¡±


    ¡°Of course, m¡¯Lady,¡± Mr. Harlow said. ¡°Truth is I had found the good Constable monitoring the situation already.¡±


    ¡°I see. Tell me, if I had not intervened, when were you planning to act Constable?¡±


    ¡°Best be heading home, Lady Fairfax. What¡¯s more those men are strangers recently come to Rothsfield. I¡¯m not sure they care about your noble lineage. Best, I think, if you avoid any future interactions,¡± he suggested before walking back down the street.


    ¡°Are you all right, M¡¯lady?¡± Mr. Harlow asked.


    ¡°Yes, though I wonder if we might keep this incident between you and I?¡±


    ¡°No need to worry your father over something that¡¯s already over.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Harlow.¡±


    I returned home, pleased with my success at The Bristol Times and Echo and energized by my confrontation with the three men. I eagerly told my father and Thomas about my conversation with Mr. Wadsworth, though I left out the Ogre incident.


    Father smiled proudly, ¡°I suspect Mr. Wadsworth will not be the only resistance, but you¡¯ve done a noble thing.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Noblesse oblige, father. You see? Look what you¡¯ve inspired in your children,¡± Thomas said.


    If he thought that was admirable, I wondered what he would say about Ogre and the rest of the story. I decided not to find out. Instead, I spent the rest of the night wondering how my letter would be received. The thought was both exciting and terrifying.


    The following day I hurried to the study and found father sitting at his desk with The Times and Echo,which had arrived in the post, and Thomas reading over his shoulder. Their grim faces spoke volumes. I grabbed the paper and read the headline:


    ¡°Lady Fairfax backs Mechanical Devilry¡±


    The article was written by none other than Mr. Wadsworth himself. My letter did not appear anywhere in paper, at least not intact. Selected quotes had been used out of context, wherever they could seemingly do the most damage. I was described as ¡°a na?ve girl who fancies herself a theologian and would challenge Father Joseph¡¯s views on the abomination known as Peter Dowling. ¡° According to Wadsworth, I was a simple girl who did not understand my place as a woman. He suggested, ¡°Lady Fairfax should be grateful she was born in such a progressive era. A woman speaking as she does in earlier centuries, no matter her station,would not have been permitted.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± my father said gravely. ¡°This is an appalling article and I will paying a visit to Mr. Wadsworth directly.Why, the mere suggestion-¡°


    ¡°No,¡± I insisted. ¡°Don¡¯t dignify this drivel with a response.¡±


    ¡°Surely, we must do something,¡± Thomas said.


    ¡°Help me find someone who will take a stand and print my letter. Failing that, perhaps I shall start my own newspaper and run the foolish Times and Echoout of business!¡±


    That at least put a smile on my father¡¯s face.


    ¡°What¡¯s that they say about a woman scorned?¡±


    ¡°They destroy your livelihood and everything you hold dear?¡± Thomas suggested.


    ¡°Close enough, I suspect,¡± Father said. ¡°Abigail, let me contact some acquaintances. We shall find a supportive newspaper. I may even have some connections in London.¡±


    I fretted for the rest of the afternoon. I began preparing letters to send to every newspaper I could think of, explaining the situation and soliciting their support. Rothsfield may have been lost to mass ignorance, but perhaps there was hope in greater England.


    I was editing my letters in the library when Thomas burst in followed by a man I had never met, who looked rather embarrassed.


    ¡°Abi! I¡¯ve been looking everywhere for you!¡± Thomas exclaimed. ¡°You¡¯ll never believe what I¡¯ve found!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve found a stranger lurking in the garden,¡± I ventured with a smile and a nod to the abashed man.


    ¡°Yes! Wait, no! Not in the garden, in town!¡±


    ¡°I see. Regardless, I doubt father will let you keep him. He probably has a home of his own.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re impossible,¡± Thomas scolded. ¡°Just let me finish! This is John Ridley, and do you know what he used to do? Don¡¯t answer! He used to work as a printer for the London Times.¡±


    ¡°Did you now?¡± I asked. I was beginning to suspect the reason for my brother¡¯s excitement and why he had brought a former printer home with him.


    ¡°Yes, Lady Fairfax,¡± he answered politely. ¡°Thirteen years, before I moved out to Bristol. ¡±


    ¡°And what took you to Bristol, Mr. Ridley?¡± I enquired.


    The Times¡­ let me go actually. The new rotary press, you see, printed, severed the papers, brought them up¡­ I mean, amazing machine, but The Times didn¡¯t need us all. I¡¯d hoped to start my own paper in Bristol,¡± finished Mr. Ridley. He had the odd habit of shuffling his feet as he spoke and carefully watching a spot just ahead of them on the floor.


    ¡°Better than that,¡± Thomas interrupted, ¡°he purchased all the equipment necessary to start!¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± Ridley agreed. ¡°I¡¯d saved enough for the machinery, but unfortunately, I have lacked the capital thus far to print our first issue. My two sons are to help me. We¡¯d planned to name it The Bristol Gazette¡±


    Thomas was overjoyed, ¡°Remember what you said about starting your own paper?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but that was me just getting carried away with myself, as I¡¯m want to do. I wouldn¡¯t know the first thing¡­¡±


    ¡°Mr. Ridley does! I¡¯ve already hired him and his sons!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s true, M¡¯Lady,¡± Ridley confirmed. ¡°I signed a contract this afternoon. It seems we shall be printing The Rothsfield Gazette now.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ already? Where did you¡­?¡±


    ¡°It was very informal,¡± Thomas said. ¡°I wrote it up on the back of the last issue of the Times and Echo. Seemed fitting to write that rag¡¯s death warrant upon itself.¡±


    ¡°But what shall we print it on? Or with? Having the machinery is one thing but-¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s all set, M¡¯Lady,¡± Ridley assured me. ¡°I sent for all the necessary materials before we came here. Master Fairfax was kind enough to purchase them of course.¡±


    ¡°Thomas! You can¡¯t afford to buy a newspaper!¡±


    ¡°I can and I did! Besides, I¡¯ll make it all back. Everyone will be buying our first issue to hear what Lady Fairfax has to say!¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I find myself at a loss for words. Thank you!¡±


    ¡°Well, that had better not be a state you find yourself in for long as you are going to need to fill no small number of pages with a great many words, rather soon I¡¯m afraid,¡± Thomas said grinning like a loon all the while.


    I hurried to Thomas and embraced him. I did the same to Mr. Ridley which made him look all the more uncomfortable, a feat I had not thought possible.


    The next two days were a flurry of activity. Much to Mr. Ridley¡¯s dismay, we renamed the paper again. After some discussion we settled upon: A Woman¡¯s Voice. Thomas was convinced that would garner all variety of attention, good and bad. He believed any attention was good attention. Our first issue would be released into both Rothsfield and Bristol, hoping to garner more vocal support locally while also challenging our close-minded neighbors.


    While we quietly worked on our little project, ever more strangers passed through Rothsfield as Mr. Dowling¡¯snotoriety increased. Some came hoping to merely catch a glimpse of the good doctor¡¯s work, while others sought to voice their disapproval.  Not only was Dr. Blyth¡¯s office a continued target, but his home soon became the site of increasingly violent protests. Rocks were thrown through his windows, doors were pounded on, and his horses were released into the night.


    When father heard, he sent Mr. Harlow with the carriage to collect Dr. Blyth and Mr. Dowling. They were to become our permanent guests. Father always claimed I was my mother¡¯s daughter, but as I watched his anger grow at the mistreatment and heard him curse the ¡°damnable Luddites,¡± I realized we weren¡¯t so different.

 Chapter 7: Not Alone

    Unfortunately Mr. Harlow returned not only with our new guests but other alarming news from the village. Father Joseph and a small entourage had arrived at the parish church and taken up residency there. No one had seen Father Hughes since the Bristol priest¡¯s arrival and every day since his arrival he had been giving sermons daily, all well attended to the point where his flock were spilling out the doors of the Lord¡¯s house.


    Mr.Harlow reported that he had stopped by the church on his way in and, ¡°I will tell you m¡¯Lady, that man seems to think the end times are upon us what with the coming of the dread mechanical man, wouldn¡¯t even bother to use Peter¡¯s name, and while a good many of his listeners were strangers to me there were still plenty I recognized from the village and farms about. Of particular note was a large ogre like fellow standing beside one of the windows.¡±


    ¡°Let us restrict our discussions of fantastical creatures as we agreed,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°Aye, m¡¯Lady. That¡¯s most likely for the best,¡± Mr. Harlow said with a quick wink.


    ¡°Though necessary, I fear Mr. Downling¡¯s relative isolation since his unveiling has done him little favors,¡± I said. ¡°I suspect Rothsfield needs to hear a proper and sensible voice as soon as possible.¡±


    When A Woman¡¯s Voice was finally printed, Thomas sent a copy to all the major Newspapers in England, hoping they might report on our little paper. Our first issue was small and consisted of little more than my letter. We took a copy to show father, Dr. Blyth, and Mr. Dowling before its release the following day.


    ¡°Well. We¡¯d better secure the doors and board the windows,¡± Father said after staring quietly at it for quite some time. ¡°Tomorrow will be an interesting day.¡±


    ¡°Lady Fairfax,¡± Mr. Dowling said, ¡°you h-have been working so v-very hard these days.


    ¡°Are you all right, my good man?¡± Thomas asked, with little trace of his usual humor.


    ¡°I apologize,¡± Mr. Dowling said. ¡°The voi-voi-voice box thing is a b-bit off and created a st-stutter today.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s perfectly alright. Take your time,¡± I said as I surreptitiously stole a glance at Dr. Blyth.


    ¡°It¡¯s just, do you su-suppose A Woman¡¯s Voice will be a-able to t-t-t-turn the tide? So m-many have come seemingly intent on v-v-violence.¡± Mr. Dowling glanced down at his rickety hands quietly tapping out a rhythm on his thighs.


    ¡°As ever, my friend, I believe we must have faith that it can,¡± I said taking his hands in mine. I could feel his fingers continuing to try and tap tap their quiet little rhythm.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Mr. Dowling said quietly to me. ¡°N-n-nerves, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Pitt,¡± I heard my father saying just then, ¡°I was quite serious about the doors and windows. Let¡¯s see what we can find to brace them.¡±


    I glanced again at Dr. Blyth. He was watching Mr. Dowling with what seemed to be concern. I made it a point to corner him later while father and Thomas were talking with Mr. Dowling.


    ¡°Dr. Blyth, is everything all right? You have been watching Mr. Dowling awfully close.¡±


    He smiled and answered, ¡°Oh, yes. Just some faulty connections somewhere. I will find them and have him right as a trivet before you know it. Mr. Dowling¡¯s body is a complicated piece of machinery.¡±


    That is reassuring,¡± I said, feeling relieved. ¡°You are a good man Doctor.¡±


    ¡°It is truly a comfort to know you and your family believe that even still after...¡± he quietly trailed off. His gaze seemed to wander away from me and not back to Mr. Dowling or anywhere in the present. It seemed as though he was looking into the years long past.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    I thought for a moment and then offered, ¡°We never blamed you, doctor, for what happened with mother and the baby. We have our grief but we never blamed you.¡±


    He smiled once more. A thin, wan smile, the kind that could blow away with but a gentle breeze, ¡°Well, child, I suppose that makes one of us.¡±


    The following day was an anxious one. We restlessly awaited word on how A Woman¡¯s Voice was received. Mr. Ridley finally arrived near evening, positively beaming.


    ¡°We sold every copy!¡± he announced, bringing a cheer from all assembled. ¡°However, I don¡¯t know that it is receiving very positive reviews.¡±


    ¡°No surprise there,¡± Thomas stated.


    ¡°Though, Father Joseph was calling for a village meeting to discuss your little ¡®heresy¡¯ as I passed through town. I do believe those were his exact words.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I declared. ¡°It has them talking. Perhaps we should be there.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Father insisted. ¡°Let¡¯s give it some time. Let them have their meeting. I do not suspect today will be the day for level-headed conversation.¡±


    ¡°Not to worry,¡± Thomas said. ¡°We have enough work to do here. We have another issue to prepare. You need to work on your next piece. Father Joseph likes his fire and brimstone, how about you, Abi? Think you can write up something equally bombastic? We should also try and make this next issue bigger. Perhaps you would submit a piece, Doctor?¡±


    ¡°It would be a pleasure. Perhaps I could explain the processes a bit more and dispel this talk of devilry and necromancy. It really is quite excellent science after all.¡±


    ¡°We should also include an interview with Mr. Dowling,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°Brilliant!¡± Thomas agreed.


    The rest of the day was spent preparing our next issue. While Mr. Ridley returned to Bristol to acquire the necessary materials for our next issue, Clifton Manor was a flurry of excited activity. Even Father took an interest and began looking into possible investors and advertisers to help with production and distribution costs. I spent time working on my next piece and then met with Mr. Dowling to work on his interview. It was an opportunity to show his humanity. My goal was to portray the feeling, thinking man trapped in the rattling body.


    We sat in the library. Mr. Dowling¡¯s leg was worse today and he was having trouble getting it to work at all. Another walk through the garden seemed out of the question. His stutter still remained as well.


    I readied my pen, ink, and paper. Then I asked with a smile, ¡°Are you ready?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he said with a nod that I returned.


    ¡°When you introduce yourself, what do you say?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I say that my name is P-Peter Dowling.¡±


    ¡°Despite how much you have changed?¡±


    ¡°This?¡± he said, raising his hands for me to see. ¡°This is just a b-body. I am inside of it, as you re-reminded me. I am still here, me, with my thoughts and mem-memories.¡±


    ¡°Yet life has changed for you.¡±


    ¡°It c-certainly has.¡±


    ¡°Are you grateful Dr. Blyth saved you?¡±


    He thought for a moment. ¡°Yes, but if he had asked when I was still in g-good health, I w-would have refused the procedure. I unders-stand why people are afraid of me.¡±


    ¡°What is it about you that you think frightens them?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t l-l-look human. I clink and ra-rattle when I walk. My voice is incap-incapable of inflection or emotion. My face conveys no ex-expressions. I am, quite simply, unsettling.¡±


    ¡°Do you feel anger when people are so quick to dismiss your humanity?¡±


    ¡°No. I feel l-loneliness. Em-m-motion is all that¡¯s l-left. No warmth, no c-cold, no taste, no t-touch. N-no sensations. J-just sadness, h-happiness, fear, rel-l-ief¡­ loneliness.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what to say as Mr. Dowling paused. I must confess the depth of his feeling kept surprising me.


    ¡°But w-when the loneliness is t-too much I remember those who sup-p-port me. Then th-there¡¯s hope.¡±


    I smiled and placed my hand on top of his. I felt the cold metal beneath his glove. ¡°You must never let go of that hope and you are definitely not alone. As people learn more about you, they will change their minds.¡±


    ¡°I hope that you are c-correct. If they do n-not, I fear what will be-become of me?¡±


    ¡°What is it you fear most?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that obvious?¡±


    He watched me flounder about considering all I knew of him yet I continually found myself at a loss for an answer. I considered all of the challenges that lay before him. There was much to overcome.


    "Death.¡±


    Perhaps it was simply Mr. Dowling¡¯s cold and straightforward voice, but his statement sent a chill through my body. Despite the challenges ahead, it was the end of them that weighed most heavily on his mind. I swore to myself that I would let no harm come to him.


    We continued the interview and I was pleased with the wealth of responses I had gathered by the time we finished. Surely it would sway public opinion. In person, people first had to look past the things that made Mr. Dowling different. In writing, his monotone voice and rattling body were not there to distract from his humanity. When we had concluded the interview, we left the library, though it took Mr. Dowling great effort to stand and even more to walk on his seized leg.

 Chapter 8: Father Joseph has Lost Control

    As evening approached, the effects of our paper became apparent. Villagers and the various strangers who come to Rothsfield arrived outside of Clifton Manor, led by Father Joseph himself. It was the first time I had actually seen the man in the flesh. I had imagined him in a lot of ways, and yet, looking upon him, I found this was beyond my imaginings. He seemed almost to be banality incarnate. A plump man with a round face and skin so pale he resembled the moon. Small round spectacles perched on his nose and a pair of under-developed muttonchops framed his cherubim face. Such fierce words from so unassuming a man was rather unfathomable. Yet, I watched as he marched at the head of his motley congregation, held up his hand to call for halt and, even from down the road, we could hear him launch into his latest diatribe.


    ¡°Brothers and sisters, put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. Remember the words of the good book: ¡®There shall not be found among you any that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch, or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer.¡¯ A necromancer, here in this very manor lays hidden, as he has hidden for years within this village. But his own pride has driven him into our light. His hubris. He seeks to control the forces of life and death. Forces beyond any man¡¯s control! Though his promises of everlasting life, the overthrow of death, seem a mighty temptation, they are lies! As they are always lies! The only eternal life to be found is by the side of the Lord. Remember: now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils. We find them here, Lord Fairfax and his children. They have fallen prey to such seduction! We must save them, for they can be saved, once the evil is destroyed. The evil of the necromantic mechanical man. Render him unto us and repent of your evil ways!¡±


    Inside, the day¡¯s excitement quickly transformed into a somber atmosphere. Dr. Blyth watched nervously at the window, ¡°I fear, we may have put you all in great danger.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense,¡± Father insisted. ¡°It is all for show. Don¡¯t give in to their intimidation. Mr. Pitt, how are the doors and windows coming along?¡±


    ¡°Nearly done, sir,¡± Mr. Pitt bowed.


    ¡°Very good. Point me to what needs to be finished and I shall lend myself as well to the endeavors.¡±


    As the evening wore on, there seemed to be a constant trickle of new comers to the ever-burgeoning crowd. It seemed that fewer people were paying much mind to Father Joseph¡¯s continually droning sermon. There grew a competing noise; the buzz of restless conversation. Yet somehow Father Joseph¡¯s voice kept rising above it and punctuated with sudden impassioned cries.


    ¡°I will even set my face against that soul, and will cut him off from among his people. So it is written. The Lord is forgiving but only to a point. Those inside Clifton Manor are not so far gone yet, I will not believe such words, but they need our help! Brothers and sisters, this infernal machine must be dismantled in order to save the poor souls trapped within the den of Satan! The machine is fueled by recently deceased brains robbed from their eternal resting places. We must end this blasphemous experiment together. God is the creator and master of the divine plan¡­¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I sh-should go to them,¡± Mr. Dowling suggested.


    ¡°Don¡¯t even think it. We will not allow it,¡± Thomas insisted.


    ¡°Certainly not,¡± Father agreed. ¡°Stay in the study. Mr. Pitt and I finished our work. I believe I shall now inform the servants they are not required to stay. This is not their stand to make.¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    As it turned out, most of the staff had no intention of leaving. They were determined to outlast the throng with us. I think father was truly touched by their loyalty.


    The first indications that the situation was changing came as night fell. The crowd had grown to a mob but what was truly disconcerting was that we could no longer hear Father Joseph. As we looked out it quickly became clear that he was losing his role as leader. His sermons had come to an abrupt halt as he desperately sought a focal point from which to be seen. He attempted to keep the gathered mass behind him and yet they kept spilling in waves past him. Once or twice we caught his almost frantic cries, carried on the wind over the rest of the noise, ¡°Now brothers and sisters, listen to me, please, listen! No please, over here!¡± The sky was clear and the moon shone brightly, casting an eerie luminescence to the scene outside the manor house.


    Inside, we remained in the study. Mr. Pitt asked if we would like the candles lit for the night, but father advised against it. ¡°Best to hide our movements and positions¡± he reasoned. The drapes remained almost entirely drawn with a few spots where we could keep a furtive watch on the crowds.


    It was from this clandestine position that Thomas and I saw the arrival of a wagon. I watched it recklessly proceed to the front of the crowd. In the dull light I could just make out Ogre and his goblins. Ogre drove the wagon, flanked on either side by his torch bearing henchmen. The wagon was loaded with newspapers, which they brought to a stop in front of the house.


    ¡°Hoy!¡± Ogre yelled throwing back a half empty bottle to crash against the wagon. Its contents burst over the papers. After a loud belch and a slight staggering he called out. ¡°These yer papers?¡±


    His goblins then lit the stack ablaze with their torches. The laughter of the three men was soon lost amidst a cheer from the crowd.


    Thomas grimaced beside me. ¡°What are the chances they purchased all of those first?¡±


    ¡°W-well,¡± Mr. Downling began standing just next to Thomas, ¡°Mr. Ridley did say you sold out.¡±


    ¡°Huzzah, for small victories,¡± I said with an anxious smile.


    Father joined us at the window, surveying the scene. ¡°I do believe that Father Joseph has lost control of his mob.¡±


    Father was correct. I peered through the window, watching Father Joseph attempt to speak to the three men. Ogre shoved him aside and laughed as Father Joseph fell to the ground.


    We waited long enough, father. Now! Bring us yer machine!¡± Ogre demanded. ¡°Oh but beggin¡¯ yer pardon m¡¯lady,¡± he sneered. ¡°We¡¯re bein¡¯ right ill-mannered louts, aren¡¯t we now?¡± He lit his own torch from the burning papers and held it high above his head.


    ¡°You know what? You can¡¯t ¡®ide in there forever!¡± His goblins raised their own torches high. We then watched in horror as they turned and staggered toward the stables. Several members of the mob, to their credit, attempted to halt them but were cast aside just as easily as Father Joseph had been.


    ¡°Oh dear God¡­¡± Mr. Pitt whispered in the study as the stable doors were pulled open and the torches tossed inside. The men returned, pulled more unlit torches from the wagon¡¯s seat, and pointed toward the house. Their message was clear. Servants rushed from the house toward the stables to release the animals and attempt to quell the flames. Even a few of the mob, whether due to a sudden burst of altruism or simple self-preservation, could be seen stamping their feet at the quickly spreading fire.


    ¡°The fire could spread and those men look to be drunk beyond reason,¡± Father declared. ¡°It is no longer safe to remain here. Mr. Pitt, please get everyone out through the servant¡¯s entrance, quickly. We are leaving!¡±


    ¡°I had your carriage readied in case of emergency, my Lord,¡± Mr. Pitt said. ¡°Mr. Harlow is already awaiting your escape.¡±


    ¡°Well done. But see our guests and the children out first. I will see that the rest of the servants are safely evacuated from the grounds.


    ¡°Father, no!¡± I cried as Mr. Pitt took my arm.


    ¡°It will be alright, Abi. Thomas, see to your sister,¡± father called after me as he hurried in the opposite direction.


    As I was ushered from the study by Thomas, a stifled cry caught my attention and I wrested free of Mr. Pitt¡¯s light grasp.


    ¡°Abi! No! This way!¡± Thomas yelled as I hurried back to the window.


    ¡°Oh no¡­¡± I said peering cautiously around the drapes. Mr. Dowling rattled to the window followed by Thomas.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Thomas asked.


    ¡°They¡¯ve got one of the stable boys!¡± I explained to Mr. Dowling.


    Ogre and his goblins stood facing the house, holding the poor boy in front of them. Ogre held a knife to the boy¡¯s throat.


    ¡°Fair trade?¡± Ogre yelled. ¡°Bring out the machine, m¡¯lady, and you get yer runtin¡¯ boy!¡±

 Chapter 9: Rattling Bones

    ¡°I must g-go out there,¡± Mr. Dowling declared in his stuttering, monotone voice.


    How dare these men! Men who had no business here. Men flush with stupidity, hatred, and inebriated courage. How dare they threaten people¡¯s lives like this? I felt an old familiar anger rising up in me; I could feel my face grow warm with it. It was the same feeling I¡¯d experienced with Lord and Lady Bankes, Mr. Wadsworth, and during the first encounter with Ogre. I would not stand for this any longer.


    ¡°No. You will not.¡± I rushed from the study, catching Thomas and Mr. Dowling off guard but they soon hurried after me. I could hear Mr. Dowling with his rattling limp hurrying to catch up, not far behind. I ignored them. I veered to the fireplace and grabbed an iron poker, then hurried to the entrance hall. Thomas grabbed hold of my arm for a moment, but I slipped from his grasp and threw open the main doors. I would not be dissuaded, I would not be stopped.


    ¡°Take your hands off him!¡± I screamed, raising the poker with both hands.


    ¡°M¡¯Lady,¡± Ogre sneered with derision, ¡°been hopin¡¯ we¡¯d meet again,¡± then pointed toward Mr. Dowling who was struggling to keep up. ¡°How about the two of ya come on over to me and I¡¯ll teach some proper manners for a woman.¡±


    ¡°No! You shall let that boy go! And you shall not lay a hand on Mr. Dowling or myself!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see the constable lurkin¡¯ ¡®bout. Who¡¯s to stop us?¡±


    ¡°Me!¡± I declared.


    He laughed, tossing the boy aside. To my relief, he scurried to safety. Though now Ogre and his goblins were advancing on us and my poker was beginning to feel inadequate. I felt Mr. Dowling¡¯s hand touch my arm.


    ¡°My Lady, please g-go. I will slow them d-down.¡±


    His voice was as calm and monotone as ever despite the stutters, which seemed rather inappropriate for our current predicament.


    ¡°No,¡± I said.


    ¡°Wish I had thought to grab a weapon,¡± Thomas said beside me. ¡°As far as last stands go, mine may be short lived.¡±


    Ogre, far outpacing his goblins, was soon upon us. I felt then a rush I had never known before. Time seemed to slow ever so slightly. I noted the inky black shadows cast by the roaring orange and yellow flames consuming the stables. The ash and sparks drifting through the air like snowflakes on a winter¡¯s night; and Ogre¡¯s face, it was a twisted and shadowy mask contorted with rage. In that moment he resembled his namesake more than I ever thought possible.


    I watched as firelight flickered from the blade he gripped in his right hand raised high over his head. Mr. Dowling step forward with a rattling creak and readied to block the blow. I heard the horrific screech of metal upon metal as the knife easily penetrated Mr. Dowling¡¯s coat and canvas skin. The blade became lodged in the skeletal frame of his arm, causing Ogre to jerk at the knife with all of his might. Ogre then brought his fists crashing down upon Mr. Dowling¡¯s head and shoulders. Under the ferocity of the blows, one of Mr. Dowling¡¯s legs buckled at the strangest angle. Suddenly, Thomas threw himself into Ogre while Mr. Dowling crumpled in a heap on the dewy grass before me. Ogre shoved Thomas easily aside.


    What happened next surprised even me. I saw myself. Or rather I felt as though time itself had nearly stopped and I had stepped outside of my own body. All sound seemed to fade away. I watched in silence as I let out a silent cry of anguish and rage, pushed now beyond all comprehensible words. My grip on the cast iron fire poker tightened. I brought it back across my body. Ogre was just turning his attention to me, smiling as he left the crumpled forms of Mr. Dowling and my brother. I saw myself, with a sudden fury and sure movements swing the poker right around and cracked into the side of Ogre¡¯s skull. It¡¯s sharp point drawing a frightful gash of blood down and across his face.


    Once more I was back inside my own body. Ogre was reeling before me, wavering and seeming dazed beyond cognition. Then through the smoke, and people scrambling to fight the fire, our carriage thundered into view. Mr. Harlow drove with an intensity I had never seen in the old man¡¯s face. At that moment, I decided to do all I could to see the man knighted for his efforts. The goblins dived back out of the way though Ogre wasn¡¯t quite fast enough and saw him clipped by the charging horses as he was knocked aside.


    ¡°I said the servant¡¯s entrance,¡± Father bellowed, swinging open the door. I found Thomas was beside me supporting Mr. Dowling with one arm and pushing me toward the carriage and my father¡¯s outstretched hand with the other. Turning back, I helped drag Mr. Dowling and then Thomas into the carriage. Before we even had the door closed Mr. Harlow had the horses racing away from the fires and the carnage behind us.


    Thomas collapsed in the seat beside me. Mr. Dowling was slumped in the seat opposite us with father and Dr. Blyth, who was anxiously surveying the damage to the mechanical frame. We could yet hear his various gears clinking and clanking in a most disconcerting manner.


    ¡°Mr. Dowling¡­ Peter¡­?¡± I asked quietly. I feared what would come next.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ still ticking,¡± Mr. Dowling rasped. I couldn¡¯t help as a small laugh escaped me at the seeming ridiculousness of his reply.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Dear sister,¡± Thomas began soberly, ¡°Peter can be excused his excessive gallantry but you! Have you forgotten? Discretion is always the better part of valor.¡±


    Father looked displeased.


    ¡°What were you thinking? You could have been killed by that monstrous brute.¡±


    ¡°I was thinking I had to save young Timothy.¡±


    ¡°The stable boy?¡±


    ¡°Yes. They¡¯d taken him.¡±


    ¡°Is he all right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, he escaped.¡±


    ¡°And Mr. Dowling and I were thinking about saving my sister,¡± Thomas added.


    ¡°Though I see she was the only one sensible enough to arm herself before heading into that fray,¡± Father said gesturing to the fire poker now resting on my lap.


    ¡°I appreciate your intention at the very least, both of you,¡± I said to them.


    My father looked between Mr. Dowling, Thomas, and finally me. At last he said, ¡°Tonight you all¡­ You were are all incredibly foolish, but¡­ you were also incredibly brave. I¡¯m proud of all of you, and I know your mother would be especially proud of you both.¡±


    ¡°But where are we to go now?¡± Thomas asked.


    ¡°We¡¯re hoping the Royal Society will be willing to take us in. Mr. Dowling is in sore need of repairs and rest. I believe we all are,¡± Dr. Blyth explained.


    As relief settled in, we prepared for a long journey to London. I watched my hands slowly stop shaking as my heart beat returned to its normal pace. Then exhaustion set in and before long I was fast asleep.


    __________________________


    To our great delight we arrived in London to discover we had gained celebrity. A Woman¡¯s Voice had been reprinted and sold throughout the city. Here we found great support for Mr. Dowling. As for Father Joseph and his ardent rhetoric, given the violence and mayhem it had caused, especially to a Lord¡¯s holdings, the Church was left with little option but to quietly remove Father Joseph from all attentions. Blame was laid upon the unstable men who had an imbalance of passions and whom did not represent the church. They said they would continue to investigate the religious and moral implications of Dr. Blyth¡¯s revolutionary medical procedure but would trust, for now, upon the evaluation offered by Father Hughes who had for so long seen to the welfare of Mr. Dowling¡¯s immortal soul. The Times even reported that Queen Victoria herself had declared no harm was to come to Mr. Dowling, who she referred to as ¡°a marvel of modern science and medicine.¡±


    The Royal Society took in Dr. Blyth and Mr. Dowling while Father, Thomas, and I were given lodging by our cousins, Lord and Lady Annesly. It was there we received a telegram from Rothsfield. Clifton Manor had been burned. Luckily, no one was harmed but the stable was destroyed and the house was badly damaged. Three men were arrested for inciting the violence, and I suspected I knew exactly who they were, along with a number of other protestors. They were currently awaiting their trials. Father was devastated at the loss of the manor that had been home to our family for generations, but swore that it would be rebuilt.


    Thomas occupied himself with the business of our newspaper. With the success of our first issue in London, he found a number supporters willing to invest in it, including our cousins. He soon sent to Bristol for Mr. Ridley and his sons who found themselves running a much larger printing shop in London, with an entire staff to manage.


    I spent much of my time visiting with Mr. Dowling. His condition was worsening. Though repairs had been made to his mechanical body, his arm repaired and his leg reset, his speech was becoming ever more labored and he continued to experience unexplained malfunctions throughout his body. His rattling, which I had come to find so comforting, was silenced as he lost the ability to move under his own power. Dr. Blyth and the Royal Society were at a loss to correct the problem.


    ¡°It seems to be more than the damage he sustained at the manor. The repairs should be sufficient. It seems more likely that the connections between his brain and the machinery are not holding. His body is being rejected.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s dying?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so. I¡¯m sorry. After all you did for us¡­¡±


    ¡°I would do it all again.¡±


    I sat with Mr. Dowling everyday. I discussed our plans for the paper and how much support he was receiving from the people of London. He occasionally responded, but speech was difficult and took time. I held his cold metal hand. Perhaps it was silly. I know he could not feel it, but he seemed to appreciate it nevertheless.


    ¡°Lady F-Fair-f-fax¡­¡± he began one day.


    ¡°Please, Mr. Dowling, you may call me Abi.¡±


    ¡°A-A-bi. C-c-call me¡­ Peter¡­¡±


    ¡°Of course¡­ Peter.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ scared¡­¡±


    ¡°No, Peter, you musn¡¯t be. Dr. Blyth and the others will-¡°


    ¡°I c-c-can feel it¡­ this time¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be alright. You¡¯ll see,¡± I said. I paused but he said nothing. ¡°How about this, when you are working properly again we¡¯ll take a small holiday, I daresay you¡¯ve earned one. Where shall we go?¡±


    ¡°I... don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°How about the lake district? Have you ever been?¡± I asked.


    ¡°N-ever.¡±


    ¡°Oh it¡¯s beautiful. My mother took me once when I was very small. Crystal blue waters, tall craggy peaks. Such sights as to reinvigorate the mind and soul. Just the thing. We¡¯ll go together. Someday soon.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d¡­ l-ike that¡­ very m-much, Abi.¡±


    But that day never came. A different one came first. A day I had been dreading and when that day finally came he managed to simply say, ¡°I¡­ m-mu-must¡­ g-g-go.¡±


    I smiled through tears and said, ¡° I shall miss your rattling bones.¡±


    I like to think I saw a smile.


    ¡°Thank¡­. you¡­¡± he said almost inaudibly.


    ¡°I should be thanking you,¡± I told him. ¡°You came into my life so suddenly and changed it so completely. I have a purpose now, because of you. The world can be a frightening and ugly place, but it can also be beautiful and miraculous. I will see that you are remembered. And I swear that others never suffer a similar fate. I will speak for those who cannot and I will confront ignorance and bigotry in all its forms, because of you. I will never, ever forget you.¡±


    I don¡¯t know if he heard all I had to say. He never spoke again.


    Mr. Dowling was buried in London. Father, Thomas, Dr. Blyth and I led the procession. The streets were filled with mourners and onlookers. As we passed, they held high the latest issue of A Woman¡¯s Voice. It was our sixth issue. I had written Peter Dowling¡¯s obituary for it.


    After the funeral, we returned to Clifton Manor to assess the damage. It was not beyond repair, but it would take time.


    ¡°We will rebuild,¡± Father said again before returning to the carriage.


    Thomas and I lingered outside the manor¡¯s charred skeleton.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a house,¡± he said. ¡°We are still here. And we won.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel like we won.¡±


    ¡°No, I suppose it doesn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°But I do have a voice.¡±


    ¡°And people who want to hear it.¡±


    ¡°So let us do some good.¡±