“More interesting than a roulette wheel?” Rook asked, standing nearby.
She should have been completely distracted by the machine that rested before her, but her attention kept wavering, aware of his watchful gaze, almost a physical caress. In her excitement over this gift, several times she’d wanted to embrace him, simply hold him, have him hold her. How well he knew her in order to comprehend exactly how to please her. He understood her, wasn’t bothered by her yearning for more information. “I can’t even comprehend the brilliance of the man who designed this.”
“That would be Edmund Denison, miss,” their guide said.
“The scale of it. To have so many different aspects that have to come together perfectly in order for it all to work. No room for error.” Slowly, she began walking around it, covering her ears when the quarter bells began ringing. The guide had given them cotton to stuff in their ears, but it barely dimmed the ticking of the clock, the turning of the wheel, the movement of the cogs, the chiming of the bells.
She didn’t know how Rook had arranged for thislate-night exploration of the inside of the Clock Tower. She supposed being a lord didn’t hurt but also suspected a pouch of coins had exchanged hands. She couldn’t help but wonder if any of the coins had been pennies that might eventually be used to slow down the pendulum when it was needed, removed when it was necessary to quicken the pendulum’s speed. It seemed like such a whimsical way to keep the clock precise, and yet she’d been reassured that it was the most accurate clock in the world.
“The belfry is above if you’d like to see the bells,” the guide said.
The bells were no doubt magnificent, but she could have spent hours right where she was. Still, she nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
Not nearly as many steps to climb before she was looking at the four bells surrounding the gigantic Big Ben in the center. It was deafening when the smaller bells struck fifteen minutes before midnight.
When they fell silent, Rook asked, “Would you like to go as far up as we can?”
What I would like, she thought,is to kiss you in this glorious space. “I would, yes.”
The guide exchanged a look with Rook before handing him the lantern he carried. “I’ll wait for you here,” he said.
“Very good.”
Rook escorted her through the door and back into the passage where spiral stairs awaited them. While she led the way, he followed closely behind, his hand resting against the small of her back. Before long, they were standing in the upper gallery, where a bright light was shining out over the city.
She wandered nearer to one of the apertures and looked out. Tonight’s fog was wispy, barely there, and she could easily see the gaslights illuminating the streets. Feeling like she was gazing down on a fairy world, ethereal, not quite real, she became aware of Rook’s nearness. He was no longer holding the lantern. It wasn’t needed here.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Magical?” she asked.
“The machinery?” His voice was hushed as if he recognized that up here only the bells were allowed to be loud.
“All of it. How did you arrange all this?”
“You have to know a member of Parliament. Fortunately, I do.”
Kingsland, no doubt. She might have laughed, but this didn’t seem to be the sort of place where one should. She was also concerned that the sound might ring out, echo over the near-vacated streets, and that someone would look up, see them, and identify them. Even as she was aware they were too high up to be recognized by anyone—not even herself.
Because up here, above the world, she yearned as she never had before for what she knew she was destined to never acquire: a husband who loved her, whom she loved. Children she would adore. A happy home. All the things she’d convinced herself not to reach for because they were beyond her grasp.
Yet this man had known what would please her the most: not flowers or chocolates or an afternoon of sitting on a settee sipping tea.
“I’m sorry you weren’t able to disassemble it all,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.
“I was able to figure it out for the most part. I’llanalyze it and take it apart in my mind for years to come.” And every time she did, she’d remember him.
The bells began to ring out the end of one day, the beginning of another. She stuck her fingers in her ears because the cotton wasn’t enough to muffle the loud chimes. His hands came over hers, muting the bongs a fraction more. Because he stood behind her, she couldn’t see if he was grimacing, if he was suffering through the sounds that were vibrating through her.
Suddenly she wanted his hands elsewhere.
Turning, she shouted, “Thank you for tonight.”
She doubted he’d been able to make out the words, but it didn’t matter, because when she rose up on her toes, his mouth was already there, ready and willing, to meet hers.
He didn’t know if he’d ever seen anything more beautiful in his life than the manner in which Nora had glowed when they’d initially stepped into the Clock Tower, and she’d received her first clue regarding what it was he was planning to show her. And as each aspect—the weights, the pendulum, the back of the clocks, and finally the gear trains—was visited, he felt like he was watching the brightness of a gaslight turned up until it rivaled the sun in brilliance.
He’d known she’d appreciate the whole of how it all worked. But it was the intricate mechanics that fascinated her the most. Seeing the end result of the hammers striking the bells would have pleased her, but it was the gears turning until everything was in alignment that called to her clever mind. He wouldn’t be surprised to discover that, at some point in the future, she’d create a miniature working version of the Clock Tower.
And at each stop along the way to where they now stood, he’d wanted to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her—to be part of the experience. But at the same time he hadn’t wanted to distract her or intrude on her study of all that surrounded her.
