Read Online The Story of Cirrus Flux by Matthew Skelton - Free Book Online
Authors: Matthew Skelton
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Orrery see to your dreams,” said Mr. Sorrel. “One of her treatments would rid you of your obsession with the past.”
Pandora glanced at him, curious to know what he meant, but then gave a little shudder. “No, thank you,” she said. She was still not certain what went on behind the curtains of Madame Orrery’s Crisis Room, but she had heard far too many shrieks and groans during the past few weeks ever to want Madame Orrery to treat her.
Mr. Sorrel said nothing, but spooned some lumpy porridge onto a plate. He sprinkled it with a handful of currants and passed it to Pandora.
Pandora sat down at the table and began to eat, watching as Mr. Sorrel flitted about the room, unable to settle. Even though she had shared with him plenty of details about her past, going so far as to tell him about her twin brother, he had never disclosed anything about himself.
“Tell me about Madame Orrery,” she said, trying again to get him to talk. “How did she come to be a Mesmerist in London?”
Mr. Sorrel looked at her for a moment and then sat down. He glanced behind him, as though afraid Madame Orrery might be there to overhear, and then said in a confidential whisper, “Madame Orrery was once the most admired womanin France. She was renowned for her beauty, intelligence and charm. Together with her husband, she attended the most splendid courts and salons.”
“Her husband?” asked Pandora, surprised.
“Indeed,” said Mr. Sorrel. “Her husband was a renowned clockmaker, the finest in the land.”
Pandora remembered the silver timepiece she had seen in Madame Orrery’s possession. “Her pocket watch,” she murmured.
Mr. Sorrel nodded. “It was a gift from him. A heart-shaped silver timepiece reputed never to need winding, never to lose time. It was meant to be a token of his undying love.”
Pandora’s heart was pounding. “But I saw her winding it,” she said. “A few weeks ago, in the Governor’s study. What happened?”
Mr. Sorrel blushed. “Shortly after Madame Orrery received the timepiece,” he said, keeping his voice down, “she discovered that her husband had created yet another—but in gold—for a maiden nearly half her age. A woman already fat with his child.” He averted his eyes. “It is rumored that the moment she learned of his deception, her blood ran cold and the silver timepiece stopped working—as though, like her heart, it had broken. It never functioned properly again.”
Pandora gasped. “What did she do then?”
Mr. Sorrel took a deep breath. “She devoted herself to the mysteries of the body; more specifically, the circulation of the blood and the connection between the heart and the mind. Her investigations led her to the miracles of Mesmerism.”
Pandora’s head was spinning, struggling to make sense of everything she had heard, but then she noticed Mr. Sorrel looking uncomfortable, as though he regretted divulging so much.
“And you, Mr. Sorrel,” she asked more cautiously, “how did you come to be in Madame Orrery’s service?”
“That, Pandora,” he said very softly, staring at the floor, “I cannot tell you.”
His gaze shifted to the heavy bottles of magnetized water that were stored in the adjoining room. Pandora’s shoulders sagged. She would get no more from him today.
As if reading her mind, Mr. Sorrel said, “Madame Orrery has a clinic this morning. You are to prepare the Crisis Room, as usual, and then scrub the hall.”
“Yes, Mr. Sorrel,” she answered, with a curtsy, and moved toward the door.
“And, Pandora,” he said, reaching out to hold her back, “under no circumstances are you to mention what we have discussed this morning to Madame Orrery, do I make myself clear? It would not do for her to learn that I have been so … indiscreet.”
“Yes, Mr. Sorrel.”
“Good.” The man appeared to relax; his face brightened. “Madame Orrery is having her hair prepared this afternoon for a visit to the Foundling Hospital. Once you have
Pandora glanced at him, curious to know what he meant, but then gave a little shudder. “No, thank you,” she said. She was still not certain what went on behind the curtains of Madame Orrery’s Crisis Room, but she had heard far too many shrieks and groans during the past few weeks ever to want Madame Orrery to treat her.
Mr. Sorrel said nothing, but spooned some lumpy porridge onto a plate. He sprinkled it with a handful of currants and passed it to Pandora.
Pandora sat down at the table and began to eat, watching as Mr. Sorrel flitted about the room, unable to settle. Even though she had shared with him plenty of details about her past, going so far as to tell him about her twin brother, he had never disclosed anything about himself.
“Tell me about Madame Orrery,” she said, trying again to get him to talk. “How did she come to be a Mesmerist in London?”
Mr. Sorrel looked at her for a moment and then sat down. He glanced behind him, as though afraid Madame Orrery might be there to overhear, and then said in a confidential whisper, “Madame Orrery was once the most admired womanin France. She was renowned for her beauty, intelligence and charm. Together with her husband, she attended the most splendid courts and salons.”
“Her husband?” asked Pandora, surprised.
“Indeed,” said Mr. Sorrel. “Her husband was a renowned clockmaker, the finest in the land.”
Pandora remembered the silver timepiece she had seen in Madame Orrery’s possession. “Her pocket watch,” she murmured.
Mr. Sorrel nodded. “It was a gift from him. A heart-shaped silver timepiece reputed never to need winding, never to lose time. It was meant to be a token of his undying love.”
Pandora’s heart was pounding. “But I saw her winding it,” she said. “A few weeks ago, in the Governor’s study. What happened?”
Mr. Sorrel blushed. “Shortly after Madame Orrery received the timepiece,” he said, keeping his voice down, “she discovered that her husband had created yet another—but in gold—for a maiden nearly half her age. A woman already fat with his child.” He averted his eyes. “It is rumored that the moment she learned of his deception, her blood ran cold and the silver timepiece stopped working—as though, like her heart, it had broken. It never functioned properly again.”
Pandora gasped. “What did she do then?”
Mr. Sorrel took a deep breath. “She devoted herself to the mysteries of the body; more specifically, the circulation of the blood and the connection between the heart and the mind. Her investigations led her to the miracles of Mesmerism.”
Pandora’s head was spinning, struggling to make sense of everything she had heard, but then she noticed Mr. Sorrel looking uncomfortable, as though he regretted divulging so much.
“And you, Mr. Sorrel,” she asked more cautiously, “how did you come to be in Madame Orrery’s service?”
“That, Pandora,” he said very softly, staring at the floor, “I cannot tell you.”
His gaze shifted to the heavy bottles of magnetized water that were stored in the adjoining room. Pandora’s shoulders sagged. She would get no more from him today.
As if reading her mind, Mr. Sorrel said, “Madame Orrery has a clinic this morning. You are to prepare the Crisis Room, as usual, and then scrub the hall.”
“Yes, Mr. Sorrel,” she answered, with a curtsy, and moved toward the door.
“And, Pandora,” he said, reaching out to hold her back, “under no circumstances are you to mention what we have discussed this morning to Madame Orrery, do I make myself clear? It would not do for her to learn that I have been so … indiscreet.”
“Yes, Mr. Sorrel.”
“Good.” The man appeared to relax; his face brightened. “Madame Orrery is having her hair prepared this afternoon for a visit to the Foundling Hospital. Once you have
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