Page 5

My dark thoughts lighten somewhat as I spend my first full day with Sophie. The affection I feel last night is accompanied by a delightful curiosity and enthusiasm today. She listens with rapt attention to my lessons and attacks her homework with zeal. I rarely meet a child with such a love for knowledge, and I’m pleased to see that Sophie is so eager to learn.

“Mary? What’s a Lee-aya-sahn?”

I frown. “Pardon?”

“A… Lee-aye-sohn.”

“Let me see the word.”

I look at the passage she's reading. It's about Ernst Schramli, a Swiss soldier who was executed for treason in World War Two for attempting to provide Swiss military secrets to the Third Reich. The sentence that confuses her describes his secret meeting with a German contact.

“Liaison,” I tell her. “It means a meeting, particularly one designed to foster a close relationship between people or organizations.”

“What relationship was Ernst trying to foster?”

I smile sadly. “Unfortunately, he was trying to betray Switzerland. He was angry that Switzerland wasn’t fighting in World War Two, and he tried to force them into the war by helping Germany with their war.”

“Why?”

I take a deep breath. “He… that is… a somewhat complicated question. The simplest answer is that he believed strongly enough in his point of view that he was willing to fight and die for it.”

“What was his point of view?”

I debate the merits of discussing Nazism with her and decide to save it for a later date. “We’ll talk about that another time. For now, you don’t need to study Ernst Schramli. Here, let me see if I can find a book of medieval history that isn’t quite so dark.”

With the breezy ignorance of youth, Sophie asks, “Is a liaison like being a spy?”

“Sometimes.”

“Because there used to be spies here.”

I stop with my hand closed around the textbook I intend to have her read. “Is that so?”

She nods, brightening now that she sees she has my attention. “People used to put messages in clocks to give to other spies.”

And now she has my full attention. “What makes you say that?”

“I overheard Mama talking about it. They used to write messages and stick them into hidden compartments in clocks. Then the clockmakers would ship the clocks to spies and pass information along that way.”

“Really. And did some of those clocks end up here?”

The door opens before Sophie can answer. She pales and sinks back in her desk as Elena walks into the room. Elena gives Sophie a quizzical smile. “Hello, little fairy. Why are you looking at me like that? Have you been giving Miss Mary a hard time?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m being good.”

“Is that true, Mary?” Elena asks, lifting an eyebrow.

I smile at Sophie. “She’s been wonderful.”

Elena beams. “Good. I’m so glad.” She looks Sophie up and down. “Why do you look so afraid?”

Sophie pales another shade. “I’m not afraid.”

“You’re white as a sheet.” Elena looks at me, now frowning with concern. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is great,” I tell her. “I believe our young lady is just anxious for the school day to be over.”

Sophie’s eyes widen. She bobs her head up and down eagerly. “Yes. That’s it. Miss Mary, can I be done today?”

I want to talk to her more about the old messages people used to send through this museum, but I keep it to myself. “You may be excused,” I tell her. “You did very—”

She’s out of her chair and out of the room in a flash. “—Well,” I finish ruefully.

Elena rolls her eyes. “She’s into video games lately. That one where you make things out of bricks. What is it?”

I shake my head. “I haven’t played a video game since I was six years old.”

She shrugs. “Well, she’ll be in her room until dinner. Unless you think we should roust her out and make her do something more productive.”

I absolutely do think that children should occupy themselves with more productive pursuits than video games, but I want to learn more about the history of this place, so I reply, “I’ll ease her into the new routine. She did very well with school today, so I’ll allow her video games today. Tomorrow, we’ll try to go on a walk outside after school before we shut ourselves in our room.”

Elena nods approvingly. “That’s what my parents used to tell me. Then they made me work in the shop restoring the clocks.” She chuckles. “If I asked Sophie to work on clocks with Francois, she’d probably die of boredom.”

I smile politely. “She mentioned something about—”

Elena’s phone buzzes. She sees the number and sighs. “I have to take this, I’m afraid. This is Francois. He’s calling to follow up on the incident last night. I should get down to the museum too. I don’t like leaving it in the hands of the teenagers I hired to run the gift shop. I’ll see you for dinner, Mary.”

She leaves the study, and I sigh, slightly frustrated. It seems I’ll have to wait to ask my questions.

Or maybe not. I haven’t spent much time with the exhibits. Maybe if I look more closely, I’ll be able to satisfy my curiosity.

I stop by Sophie’s room and confirm that she is zoned out with her television. The game she’s playing now is a cartoon racing game of some sort. The objective appears to be to throw turtle shells at the other racers.

“Sophie,” I call. “I’m going downstairs to the museum. If you need something, you can find me there.”

She gives me a thumbs up without taking her eyes off of the screen. We must absolutely do something about that tomorrow.

I head downstairs, stopping at the ground floor. Considering that most of the clocks in the modern exhibit have a rather open minimalist design, I feel that I’m most likely to discover hidden compartments here, especially among the grandfather clocks and cabinet clocks.

I start in the first exhibit containing all of the spring-powered clocks. Four other patrons occupy the space, a young couple and a middle-aged man. The couple seems more interested in whispering in each other’s ears and pawing at each other to the very limit of propriety. I used to turn my nose up at such behavior, but now that I’ve found my own lover in the golden years of my life, I feel happy for the two of them. It’s a fine thing to be in love.

The middle-aged man captures more of my attention, not because he is my age but because I see him peering very closely at the large cabinet clock that malfunctioned the night before. Elena has somehow managed to close its cabinets, but it is these cabinets that interest him. He mutters to himself every few seconds as his eyes scan the cabinet relentlessly.

He catches my eye and smiles at me. “An excellent automaton clock. It’s a shame that Tristan Rousseau scoffed at such designs. He had true talent. Should he have dedicated himself to this pursuit, he could have constructed some of the best clocks of this sort in history.”

I return his smile. “I did hear that he preferred simplicity in his designs.”

“He extolled it. He was renowned for his dedication to the functionality of a timepiece. As for the art, he considered a beautifully made sturdy cabinet that provided proper housing and support for its mechanism to be the best art to which an horologist could aspire. But I am being rude.” He extends his hand. “Hans Weber.”

I take his hand and am pleased to feel a firm grip. Sean tells me that you can tell a lot about a man by his handshake. Perhaps that is true, and perhaps it isn’t, but I know that I prefer strength to weakness. “Mary Wilcox.”

He tilts his head. “Wilcox.” His eyes widen. “Ah. You are Sophie’s new governess.”

I nod. “I arrived here yesterday evening.”

"Wonderful. I am happy to meet you, Mary. I am Dr Hans Weber, Associate Professor of History for the University of Geneva. As you may have guessed, Swiss Horology is a specialty of mine."

“A wonderful subject. I find time fascinating.”

“Time is everything ,” he agrees. His eyes light up with the passion all academics show when discussing their favorite subjects. “It is what allows us to truly understand everything. We can put events in their place and thus determine the nature of our world, the nature of ourselves, and the nature of growth. Everyone understands this, but not everyone can articulate it.”

Before I can reply, Elena stalks into the exhibit. I turn to greet her, but the greeting dies on my lips when I see her face. She is red-faced and tense, her breath coming in huffing gasps, her eyes on the verge of tears. “Ah. Hans. I didn’t realize you were here.”

“I just arrived, Elena. Is something the matter?”

She sighs and runs her hands through her hair. “The pocket watch. It’s gone.”