missing front tooth. When she thought of Andrew like this, she could almost believe she would one day hold him in her arms again and live within the folds of joy and safety.
Clara tucked the ribbons back into the box and went downstairs. Tom had lit fires in the hearth and turned on the lamps in the drawing room, which served as the main exhibition room of Blake’s Museum of Automata. Years ago, her uncle had purchased the town house as both his residence and workshop, but when word of his creations began to grow, he opened the house to visitors.
Dozens of his automata and mechanical toys were displayed on shelves, alongside various machine parts, wires, and tools that Clara was forever trying to contain. Since coming to live with her uncle over a year ago, she had tried to make the museum more of a profitable business, which meant turning the main rooms into exhibition spaces and trying to convince Uncle Granville to keep the mechanics in his workshop.
She opened the curtains in the drawing room and parlor, admitting a watery grayish light. Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with adjustable animals, painted musical boxes, novelty clocks with moving pictures, and mechanical performers and musicians. Clara straightened the objects, cleared away a tangle of wires her uncle had left on a table, and dusted the surfaces.
“Mrs. Winter?”
Clara left the room, schooling her features into a polite expression of cordiality. Mrs. Rosemary Fox stood in the foyer, which also served as the reception room for the museum. She pulled off her rain-speckled cloak, her tall figure slender and rigid as a tree branch.
“Is it nine already?” Clara glanced at the clock, a bit disconcerted to think she’d lost track of time.
“Only just.” Mrs. Fox rubbed her gloved hands together and shivered. Her skin was bleached of color, her sharp, elegant features pinched from the dreariness and cold. “I don’t expect we’ll receive many visitors in this weather.”
“Mrs. Marshall hasn’t arrived yet, but I’ll fetch you a pot of tea.”
“There’s no need to bother.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if it was a bother.” Clara went to the kitchen while Mrs. Fox began straightening the papers and ledgers that covered the front desk.
After brewing the tea, Clara found several currant buns and put them on the tray along with a cup and saucer. She brought it all to Mrs. Fox and placed it on the desk, where the other woman had stacked the museum’s admission receipts.
“Any word from Mr. Blake?” Mrs. Fox poured her own tea and added sugar.
“Yes, he’s expected to return tomorrow, thank goodness, so he’ll be at Lady Rossmore’s ball. It would be a great misfortune if we missed the opportunity to secure her patronage.”
After seeing one of Granville’s mechanical toys on display at a gallery on Regent Street, Lady Rossmore had paid a visit to his Museum of Automata. She’d been utterly delighted with Granville’s creations and insisted that he create something entirely new and astonishing for debut at one of her famous balls in support of the Society of Musicians. Only after Clara had convinced him had Uncle Granville agreed to present Millicent, the Musical Lady, an automaton on which he had been working for months.
“Lady Rossmore has already expressed interest in commissioning an automaton with dancing dolls,” Clara said.
Mrs. Fox’s expression didn’t change, but her dark-lashed eyes flickered upward for an instant. “I believe it’s more important that Mr. Blake continues to work as he wishes, rather than be indebted to a patron.”
“He won’t be able to work without patronage,” Clara replied, her voice tart. “We’ve several appointments next week to discuss special commissions, so it’s important that Uncle Granville be present.”
“I’m certain Mr. Blake views no other meeting as important as that of consoling and assisting Monsieur Dupree’s bereaved family.” Mrs. Fox held her teacup in both hands, as if attempting to warm her chilled fingers. Her eyes remained steady on Clara’s face.
Clara stepped back. Shame curdled in her stomach. Of course, Rosemary Fox was right. Her uncle had remained close to Monsieur Dupree and his family in the twenty years since completing his apprenticeship. When Granville received word that his mentor and former teacher had died, he’d wasted no time in procuring a ticket to Paris.
“Yes, well, he’ll return in time to conduct the demonstration, so that’s what matters,” Clara said. “I expect Millicent will garner a significant amount of attention from her ladyship’s guests as well.”