Page 8 of An Heiress and An Astronomer (Gentleman Scholars #3)

P ierce didn’t know what to do. He had returned to the Alldred estate where the Northcotts and their scholars housed their Scholarly Society; he was studying hard and yet hadn’t found the solution to his magnification problem for the lenses. He knew it had to be possible from what he knew of refractions and light, but he just couldn’t quite solve the fragility issue.

If only they could find the treasure that he and the other scholars had been pursuing ever since they met Lady Evangeline, now the mathematician’s wife.

He was sure it was the lost legendary library they had whispered about at Oxford. If he were to find it, surely then he would have the respect of his colleagues. Not to mention all the knowledge that had been lost.

Giving leave to his thoughts to dwell on the possibility for a moment allowed his brain to relax enough that the solution he had been searching so desperately for popped into his mind.

He needed to adjust the curve of the lens by a degree.

He almost smacked himself in the head. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? It was so simple and should have been obvious, the first thing he had thought of. But when his original adjustment hadn’t worked, somehow the disappointment had unhinged his brain.

But it was back in place now and he could surely refine the telescope he had been working on. If he could be the first to expand the viewing ability, then he would gain the respect he craved.

That thought had Pierce shaking his head.

“You’re foolish beyond all forgiveness.”

There was no one around, so speaking out loud needn’t cause anyone to think he had lost his mind.

He was already a respected scholar. It was silly of him to always be striving for more. He knew that had sprung from somewhere deep down behind the insecurities of being too small for his age and too intelligent for his role in life.

When his grandfather had taken over his education after finding him reading an encyclopedia in his library at Ingleshire at the age of four, it had changed Pierce’s life forever. For the good, of course. Now, though, Pierce was left to wonder about Miss Billingsley’s question about how the Marquis felt about Pierce’s refusal of the allowance his grandfather had offered.

Was it possible the old codger admired his science and was proud of assisting him? Perhaps Pierce ought to have asked instead of just rejecting the offer.

But parts of him had been scarred by the derision he’d faced in school and at home. He covered it up with laughter and jests. No one ever knew how he really felt. It was hard to change that habit now.

Pierce wondered if Roderick and Lucy suspected and even maybe his beloved grandfather. But the Marquis of Ingleshire would never discuss something so mundane as feelings. And blessedly beyond cleaning the blood off him when he’d been beaten up by brutish classmates as a boy, Roderick had never tried to talk about how that made him feel.

Only their classmates who studied the psyche tried to do that, but they were easy enough to avoid. Roderick Northcott had readily added Pierce to his growing collection of misfits and to this day allowed him to cling to his coattails. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Shaking his head, Pierce tried to refocus his concentration on the workbench before him. It took an immense level of focus to be able to properly form the lenses he needed for his telescope. He had already been able to magnify his view once and discovered amazing things in the night sky. If he could do it slightly more, what else could he see? If he discovered even more about the vast expanse beyond the Earth, surely then he would be satisfied.

With a sigh, Pierce put his instruments down.

He was definitely not in the correct frame of mind for such intricate work. He ought to go chop wood or engage in something equally physical if the clutter inside his head was any indication, he thought with a wry twist to his lips.

Moving around the room to refocus his mind, Pierce began talking to the cat.

“What say you, Toby?”

Of course, the cat had no reply other than a disdainful twitch of its tail but speaking aloud helped Pierce and since the cat couldn’t tattle on him, who would be the wiser?

“If the treasure is the lost library, if they didn’t truly destroy all the books in Oxford when they rejected the Pope, then it shouldn’t be so terribly difficult to find, don’t you think?” Pierce continued to pace, rearranging things on his shelves as he rearranged his thoughts in his head.

He continued talking to the cat. “I mean, really, who in their right mind would have actually destroyed books, in any case? If we could find them, then we would be able to restore whatever knowledge has been lost to us in the meantime.”

The cat rolled onto his side, ignoring Pierce’s anguish. But it made the scholar laugh, lightening the mood in the room, so perhaps that had been his intent.

“You think we’ve come too far in the meantime to need that lost knowledge, is that what you’re saying? You are on the side of the fellows who hope it to be gold or gems or some other such menial things?”

Pierce sighed, dragging a hand through his hair as he paced around the room.

“Perhaps you have the right of it. The others say I only want it to be books because I don’t have need of money. But every man needs money. I cannot forever be allowing my grandfather to be stuffing my pockets. For one, the tragic fact is the old fellow shan’t last forever. And everyone knows his heir won’t be supporting my studies. But if I can just get this one more degree of magnification worked out, I shan’t be needing anyone else’s coins going into my pockets as I’ll have plenty of my own to spare.” He sighed again. “But money isn’t what goads me. I want them all to realize I have value beyond that.”

When the cat finally deigned to allow the scholar to scratch his ears, a smile creased the man’s mouth.

“You value me, don’t you Toby? At least when it’s dinner time,” he added with a laugh.

“I should return to London. All the others are there. I merely needed a respite. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

As always, the cat ignored the question, but it had been sufficient to lighten Pierce’s heart enough to return to his friends in Town. Lucy had seemed determined to have them all in residence at Everleigh House once more.

While he wasn’t as dependent upon their benefactors as some of the other scholars, Roderick owned Pierce’s loyalty until the day he died. By extension, the man’s wife would be obeyed as much as he could muster. If that meant dancing attendance on a few debutantes, Pierce wouldn’t argue overloud.

It didn’t take him long to have his satchel repacked and his horse saddled. Within an hour he was anxiously watching the sky to gauge whether he would make it back to Town before darkness fell.

“For a higher than average intelligence, I can be remarkably daft,” he said out loud to no one within earshot. With a grin, he goaded his horse to a faster pace. “We just might make it, Jasper,” he said, fascinated as the horse’s ears flickered back to attend to him, even as it shifted its gait.

~~~~

When Pierce finally arrived in the mews behind Everleigh House the last embers of sunlight had burnt themselves out. He was late. The story of his life. But since he was barely anybody, surely no one would particularly care if he missed whatever entertainments the household had accepted invitations to that evening.

He was wrong.

“Pierce! Where have you been? Hurry. Everyone is getting ready but you’re not the only straggler. We will wait for you.”

Lucy was passing through the foyer as he arrived. It would seem Pierce wasn’t the only one reluctant to participate in the events of the ton . But there was no chance of his escaping for one more evening.

It didn’t take him long to clean himself up and change his clothes. He had years of experience with shifting his focus between studies and Society. But a part of him had hoped he would be spared one more evening.

“You must all be sure to dance with at least one lady who doesn’t appear to be terribly popular,” Lucy admonished as they neared their destination.

Welby tilted his head in inquiry, voicing what the other fellows were wondering. “Why the wallflowers?” he asked.

“Can you not empathise with them?” Lucy countered with a question of her own.

Welby laughed. “Perhaps, but it isn’t likely we’re going to raise their status, except maybe Darby here.”

Pierce chuckled as was expected of him. He was always the light-hearted one. But he too wanted to understand their benefactrix’s reasoning.

“You will raise her status in at least her own mind. There is nothing more dreadful for a young woman than being at a ball and not being asked to dance. It isn’t terribly delightful even for an old matron, I might add.”

“You would know nothing of that,” her husband objected with an adoring smile that the scholars wanted to deride, but they couldn’t voice the disloyal thought.

“That is neither here nor there,” Lucy said nonsensically. “I expect it of you, gentlemen. It is the least we can do for our hostess and fellow guests.”

Pierce couldn’t really argue with Lucy’s reasoning. It was like being in school and not being asked for sport. Even if he hated sport, he hated not being asked even more. It didn’t matter that he was smaller than everyone or that he didn’t know how to play the game with any amount of skill.

No one liked to feel left out. Especially as a child, and he suspected, a young lady entering the Marriage Mart would feel similarly.

“There might not be any wallflowers to rescue, though, Lucy,” Pierce mentioned.

“Unfortunately, as long as there are balls, there will be wallflowers. It is the way of the world.” Lucy made her statement with a finality they couldn’t argue with.

Pierce wasn’t sure what logic she might be basing her statement on, but he had learned not to argue with Lucy’s wisdom on the ways of the ton .

Despite not being so very old or experienced, it seemed to him that she was far more knowledgeable of the workings of their peers’ minds than most he knew, even his own mother, and gasp, possibly even the Marquis.

Perhaps not. That old codger knew everything. Pierce really ought to pay the gentleman a visit one of these days. While he was in Town would be the most convenient to be sure.

They were soon making their way through the crowded rooms. This evening’s entertainments were accompanied by far too many people squeezed into rooms that could barely contain them. It was contrary to logic, but the hostess would consider that to be a success.

But how was he to obey Lucy’s edict? How was he to find a wallflower if there were too many people milling about to make identification possible.

Then the crowds parted ever so briefly, and he caught sight of Miss Billingsley standing beside a precariously perched fern. Pierce made his way to her side.

“Good evening, Miss Billingsley,” he greeted, bowing formally over her hand as he had witnessed other more dapper gentleman do upon occasion.

It shocked a sound from the lady that was almost a simper. Pierce hid his grin. He quite enjoyed the blush that covered her cheeks. Evidently the woman was unused to such a sound emanating from her own mouth.

“Good evening Mr. Darby,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster after the previous seeming blunder. Pierce didn’t see it as a blunder, but it was obvious the poor woman did.

“Might I have the pleasure of a dance?”

She stared at him with a slight frown marring her forehead. “A dance? Was there one in particular? Or the next dance?”

Pierce laughed. As a scholar, he appreciated precision, but was surprised to hear someone of her sort asking for clarification.

“You are quite correct, my apologies. I ought to have been more precise, shouldn’t I? Do you have a preference? Have you already promised away your dances?”

“No,” was all she said, making it his turn to frown.

“No, what?” he asked with a grin she didn’t return.

“Both,” she said, turning her face away to watch the crowd, or so Pierce suspected she hoped he thought. But really, he could see the blush hadn’t left her cheeks. She had told him before that she didn’t dance much, but he had found that hard to believe. It would seem she hadn’t been fishing for compliments.

“It would be my pleasure to dance the next dance with you, Miss Billingsley,” he said with a slight bow that brought her attention back to his face.

“Thank you, it would be mine as well,” she said, pink staining her cheeks once more, but now he suspected it might be pleasure rather than embarrassment causing the heat to fill her face. Or perhaps not, how was he to know? But she was no longer frowning, so that, at least, was a relief.

“Have you been studying anything else of late?” she asked with a slight dip of her head as though in deference, like a nod or a little curtsy, as though she weren’t certain of his reception to her question.

Pierce heaved a heartfelt sigh. “I have,” he admitted. “I’m working on increasing the strength of my lenses.” He rarely discussed his inventions with anyone of the ton . It was rare anyone expressed an interest let alone understanding what he had to say.

She tilted her head as though to examine him more closely, much like a scholar, or a bird looking for a worm, he thought with a grin.

“Increasing the strength? Do you mean the physical strength, to make it less fragile? Or the magnification?”

“That’s an insightful question, Miss Billingsley,” Pierce returned, impressed despite himself. “Unfortunately, you’re right, my lenses are ridiculously fragile, especially when I increase the magnification. I’m trying to find a balance. But yes, I had meant increasing the magnification.”

“And have you succeeded?”

“I have, somewhat.”

“That must be thrilling for you,” she said. Her avid expression told Pierce she meant her words. She wasn’t being glib or condescending or anything else equally horrid.

“Yes, it is,” he said, allowing his chest to puff up slightly with the pride he couldn’t help but feel. “This is to be our dance, I believe,” he said, turning the subject as the orchestra changed pace and the dancefloor cleared of the previous couples.

Clashing expressions made their way across her features before she smoothed her face into a pleasant tableau that didn’t seem to sit quite right on her.

“Are you well?” he asked with a frown. “It seems to me you don’t really wish to dance.”

“Oh, but I do,” she said immediately. “I just wanted to hear more about your lenses, as well.” She appeared uncomfortable admitting as much and Pierce had to laugh again, causing another frown to crease her forehead. She didn’t like his laughing at her, it would seem.

“I can assure you that I am quite capable of dancing and talking at the same time. Are you not?”

She shut her mouth with a snap.