The Clockwork Woman

by Claire Bott

  He laughed and shook his head. ‘What else is needed?’

  A kind of thing. I turned away abruptly. ‘Good night, Sir Richard.’

  He did not understand, but only took my hand in his and said, laughing, ‘It will be a very good night, Dove, when you cease playing the fool and come upstairs.’

  ‘But I am not playing the fool. And I shall not come upstairs.’

  There was a long moment of silence, while I watched the bewilderment ebb slowly out of him, to be replaced by stubborn rage. ‘And what makes you think,’ he asked, his voice cold, ‘that you have any choice in the matter?’ He took a step towards me.

  ‘The fact that if I shriek aloud, Emily and Lechasseur will be down here in less than a minute,’ I replied, as calmly as I could. ‘And I do not think that even you, Sir Richard, could complete your business in less time than that.’

  He stood fuming for a minute, then turned on his heel and left the room without another word to me. I heard his footsteps retreating down the corridor, then silence. The kind of deep, velvet silence that descends only late in the night, when the darkness outside the gas-lit room seems to press in upon one like a question that demands to be answered.

  I had sent him away; had turned my back on the one thing in this world that I knew and understood. My sole skill was the giving of pleasure – but I had sent Richard upstairs alone. And what was left for me now? I had been built to be a courtesan. Now, it seemed, I was a courtesan no longer. What could I do? Who could I be?

  Nothing. No-one. The air around me seemed to tighten like a giant hand, until I almost felt my cogs buckle under the pressure of it.

  ‘Help me,’ I whispered to the empty room. ‘Help me. Please.’

  The door swung open.

  ‘Richard, where’s the – oh.’ Lechasseur stood there in his shirt sleeves, looking faintly annoyed. ‘I thought Richard was in here.’

  ‘He – went upstairs.’

  ‘Oh well, never mind.’ He turned to go.

  ‘Honoré, wait!’

  He paused with his hand on the door-handle, and looked back at me.

  I would rather a thousand times that it had been Emily who had come in, and not him. Emily I liked, trusted, knew as a friend; but this man hid himself behind a blank expression and a polite smile, and I had no idea what lay behind that wall. Yet help I had to have, or I felt as though I should die; so I forced myself to speak.

  ‘I am afraid,’ I said softly. ‘I do not know what to do.’

  ‘What do you mean, afraid?’

  I struggled to find the right words. ‘I – feel as though my life, everything I thought was my life, has been ripped away from me, and I am standing alone before a terrible light. I feel as though my world is in ruins about me.’

  He shrugged. ‘Then build yourself a new world. Find someone else to be.’

  ‘You make it sound so simple,’ I said bitterly, thinking he was setting my suffering lightly aside.

  Lechasseur came a few paces into the room, and to my surprise I saw compassion in his face. ‘No, it’s not simple. It’s not easy, either.’

  ‘You – speak as one who knows,’ I said slowly.

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ He turned to leave, but I sprang forward, clutching at his arm.

  ‘Then tell me! In God’s name, tell me! I am lost and most alone – tell me what I must do!’

  Gently he set me aside. ‘It’s not something I usually talk about.’

  ‘This is not usually – this is now!’

  ‘Well, it’s not something I want to talk about.’ Again he made to leave. I flung myself in front of him, and set my back against the door.

  ‘You must tell me, you must! You shall not leave this room until you tell me!’ I was wild, half-crazed, knowing only that I was drowning, and reaching blindly for a floating spar. ‘Tell me!’ I demanded. ‘Tell me!’

  And then, at last, he spoke. His voice was low, but I have never heard any shout or cry that could have won my attention so wholly as those quiet tones did. ‘When the world is pulled out from under you – when it feels like you’ll never get it back – you can start to feel like you’re lost. You can start to give up, just because it’s so much easier. They tell you you won’t walk again, and maybe it would be simpler not to. To lie back and let people bring you things. But you don’t. You learn to walk, you make a life for yourself, you find a way to carry on. That’s what you do. Maybe it gets easier as it goes on. Maybe you even enjoy it, in a cold kind of way. But nothing really touches you. Not until –’

  He stopped. ‘Until?’ I prompted gently.

  ‘Something changes,’ he said quietly, ‘There’s a shift. It all starts to feel... right. As though everything that was broken is knitting itself together again. Slowly, maybe, but it’s happening. But then – sweet Jesus!’ The cry rang in the silent room. ‘I didn’t know what time was any more, or even what the world was, or whether it was the whole universe that was going insane or just me; and then I knew it was just me, and that was worse than ever...’

  He was no longer speaking to me. His eyes were focused on something very far away, and the look on his face made my own agony seem suddenly small and insignificant. When Emily had opened her heart to me, it had been the gentle unfolding of a flower. But the confiding of Honoré Lechasseur was a sword-blade flashing free. It stabbed me through to my core.

  A wave of remorse swamped me. I had been treating Lechasseur in the same way that others had treated me – as a thing to be made use of, not as a person at all. Indeed, when had I ever seen him as a person. He had been to me a hero, a rescuer – and is a hero allowed a personality? Fear and doubt are not permitted him, hesitation would endanger the already perilous enterprise. A hero must never flinch. Never falter.

  Never be human.

  ‘Honoré, I am sorry,’ I said, stepping away from the door. ‘I did not mean to hurt you. I – I did not even think you could be hurt. Forgive me.’

  His eyes refocused, and he smiled at me. ‘Well, of course I can. I’m only human, you know.’

  I glanced aside. ‘While I – am somewhat less than that.’

  About to leave the door, Lechasseur paused with his hand on the door-knob. ‘Oh, I’m not so sure about that,’ he said, gently.

  Before I could respond, he had gone.

  I stood alone in the library. The night stretched empty ahead of me, as so many other nights had before. Idly I took up the book that still lay on the small table, and, sinking into a well-stuffed leather chair, opened it at random.

  The first object of laudable ambition is to obtain a character as a human being... The words caught my eye, arresting me. A character as a human being. I knew that I was a woman; a clockwork woman, formed to be docile, obedient, and pliable – a model of feminine perfection. But now I was no longer docile, had ceased to be pliable, and had left obedience far behind. Find someone else to be... A human being? Could I even aspire to that?

  I turned to the first page, and began to read in earnest.

  Independence I have long considered as the grand blessing of life, the basis of every virtue; and independence I will ever secure by contracting my wants, though I were to live on a barren heath. Independence! There was a fine, ringing sound to that word. I spoke it softly aloud to myself, and found that I liked the way it felt in my mouth. Turning the pages, I read on.

  The mind must be strong that resolutely forms its own principles; for a kind of intellectual cowardice prevails which makes many men shrink from the task, or only do it by halves. Here, for the first time, I hesitated. I had, I realised, hoped that the book that lay open on my lap might act as a guide, a set of instructions on how to live my new life. That, in short, it would give me a series of second-hand principles, which I could imbibe without the trouble of too much mental exertion. But now... The mind must be strong that resolutely forms its own principles. Di
d I have that kind of strength? For the first time, I perceived that independence might be a quality of the mind, as well as of the body. More slowly now, I read on.

  If it be allowed that women were destined by Providence to acquire human virtues, and, by the exercise of their understandings, that stability of character which is the firmest ground to rest our future hopes upon... This was stirring – this was vibrant! Human virtues – that gave me hope, and I bent closer to the page. But then, in solemn counterpoint, the words exercise of their understandings made me recoil a little in apprehension. And here, again, as I turned the page, I found the theme rung in. Every being may become virtuous by the exercise of its own reason... It is a farce to call any being virtuous whose virtues do not result from the exercise of its own reason. More and more, it was becoming clear to me that this was no simple instruction book that might lead me to easy paths. Again and again I was brought back to face that which I feared – for fear it I did. I did not want to have to venture unguided on the trackless ways of Reason, of Understanding, where I had never been before. I was not built to think for myself. It was not part of my design.

  But still I read on.

  Strengthen the female mind by enlarging it, and there will be an end to blind obedience; but as blind obedience is ever sought for by power, tyrants and sensualists are in the right when they endeavour to keep women in the dark, because the former only want slaves, and the latter a plaything. Now, with those words, a light seemed to glow far off. Not strong enough to make clear the path at my feet, but enough to make me wish to step forward, risky though it might be. For if thinking for myself might make me free forever of men like Sir Edward, of men such as Sir Richard – if finding the strength to reason independently would free me from both the tyrant and the sensualist – then the journey was worth it, whatever pitfalls I might encounter along the way.

  It is time to effect a revolution in female manners – time to restore to them their lost dignity – and make them, as a part of the human species, labour by reforming themselves to reform the world. A new light shone for me. Though the path was dark still, the destination grew ever brighter. For if it was not only I who could be aided and transformed by this journey – if my own change could be made a small cog in the change and improvement of the whole world – then surely it was not only cowardly to turn aside. It was wrong.

  Can she rest supinely dependent on man for reason, when she ought to mount with him the arduous steeps of knowledge? Again I found myself stirred by her words, and turned the pages with increasing fervour.

  If wisdom be desirable on its own account, if virtue, to deserve the name, must be founded on knowledge, let us endeavour to strengthen our minds by reflection till our heads become a balance for our hearts; let us not confine all our thoughts to the petty occurrences of the day, or our knowledge to an acquaintance with our lovers’ or our husbands’ hearts, but let the practice of every duty be subordinate to the grand one of improving our minds... I trembled; but I acquiesced. And when I read the words, they alone are subject to blind authority who have no reliance on their own strength, I vowed to myself that I would learn such reliance, though it might take me a century or more.

  And soon, a picture of this tired old world – not as it is, but as it could be, began to be sketched out before me. Women ought to have representatives, instead of being arbitrarily governed without having any share allowed them in the deliberations of government... Women might certainly study the politics, and settle their benevolence on the broadest bases... Business of various kinds, they might likewise pursue... they must have a civil existence in the State, married or single... Tyrants would have cause to tremble if reason were to become a role of duty in any of the relations of life, for the light might spread till perfect day appeared... Reason and experience convince me that the only method of leading women to fulfil their... duties is to free them from all restraint by allowing them to participate in the inherent rights of mankind... I drew it all in eagerly, almost dazzled by the glorious depiction. Surely this was worth fighting for, whatever might be the difficulties along the way! And when I reached the triumphant cry, The most salutary effects tending to improve mankind might be expected from a REVOLUTION in female manners, I found myself trembling a little – not from fear this time, but from excitement.

  It was at that moment that I heard the sound of a loud cry from upstairs. Starting to my feet, I was out of the library and mounting the stairs almost before I thought. The only two people in the world I cared for lay asleep up there.

  As I reached the head of the stairs, there was a sudden, thunderous report. It came from a door to my left, which I wrenched open in a frenzy of terror.

  On the four-poster bed that stood in the middle of the room, Sir Richard lay. Or at least, his head lay there, as did his legs, his forearms, and much of the lower part of his torso. The rest had been blasted into a red mist that was spattered liberally about the sheets and bed-hangings.

  He had threatened me, sought to use me, shown no regard for my feelings. He had also helped to rescue Emily and me from a life of subjugation. He had fallen in with Lechasseur’s plans for our rescue, and without him those plans would never have come to fruition. Perhaps part of his motivation had been to get a pretty girl into his debt and his power, but part of it at least must have been simple human feeling, kindness, compassion, call it what you will. I owed him a great deal. And he had been a human being, a man who lived and loved, laughed and fought. He had planned for his future, had enjoyed the life he lived. Now he was a smeared, bloody thing that made me give an involuntary cry of disgust to see it.

  A movement by the window arrested my attention. I turned, and saw –

  Sir Edward.

  I believe we must have remained standing in shock, staring at each other, for at least five seconds. I could not have moved in those seconds, even if I had tried to. This was Sir Edward, my creator, my owner, the man who had once been all in all to me. Until a few days ago, my only wish, my only desire, had been to please him. Now that life seemed divided from me by a great gulf, as though it had been a hundred years ago, or a dream. And yet he was here, he stood before me, and, against my will, I found myself drawn to him, yearning towards him. If he had stood there for even a moment longer, I truly believe I would have run into his arms. But even as the impulse formed in my mind, a spasm of some unrecognisable emotion crossed Sir Edward’s face, twisting it until it seemed more animal than human; and he turned from me towards the window. In a moment, he was gone, leaving only the curtains swaying a little in the night breeze.

  I did not go in pursuit. I might have done. I might even have caught him, and thus saved myself and my friends many troubles that afterwards befell. But I was too bewildered, too dumbfounded by what had just occurred, to do anything but stand and gape.

  I heard the sound of someone crashing through the undergrowth of Richard’s garden; then the noise faded away, and I knew that Sir Edward had gone. As though his absence released the power of thought and action in me, I found I could move again. Running to the window, I saw no sign of him; and I turned back into the room, to where the thing lay smeared and bloody on the bed.

  You will think me callous, but I barely glanced at it, so caught up was I in my own turmoil. I had thought – had begun to think – that I might be free at last, free of the life Sir Edward had designed me for. Yet that one brief sight of him had shown me how far that was from being true. All my joy in the new world that Wollstonecraft had shown me, all my half-formed, tentative hopes, had been swept away by that one sight of Sir Edward. And I knew, as though I had seen it written on tablets of stone by the hand of God, that I could not now turn away. I could not ignore this thing that had happened, and go forth, hoping to make a life for myself.

  No, I could not go forth. Instead, I would have to go back. I would have to see Sir Edward, one last time. Whether I would kill him, submit to him, ask him to explain, spit in h
is face or kneel at his feet, I did not know. I did not even truly know why it was that I had to return. I knew only that return I must, in response to a prompting that went deeper than logic or reason.

  Barely had I formed this conclusion when I heard footsteps coming along the corridor. So bound up was I with my own concerns, it took me a moment to struggle free of them. By the time I did, it was too late.

  ‘Stop!’ I cried. ‘Go back – do not look –’ But they had already entered the chamber.

  Emily gave a small cry of horror, and put up her hands before her face. Lechasseur only stared grimly, his face drained of blood until his skin was an unhealthy shade of grey.

  ‘I am sorry,’ I said weakly, ‘I tried to warn you.’ But I knew that I had not tried hard enough.

  ‘Who did it?’ Lechasseur asked briefly.

  ‘It was Sir Edward. I saw him. He carried a gun of his own design.’

  ‘He designed a gun that could do that?’ Emily asked in a whisper.

  ‘He did. And worse.’ I hesitated, but could not long hold myself back from speaking. ‘I must go back. I have to –’ I faltered and stopped.

  Emily turned towards me, concern in her eyes. ‘Dove? You have to... what?’

  ‘I do not know,’ I said, honestly. ‘It is only that – that when I saw him, I realised there was unfinished business between us. What it is, I do not yet know. But I must go back.’

  ‘We’re coming too,’ said Lechasseur, in a tone that brooked no argument.

  I tried to protest, all the same. ‘No, it is my fight –’

  ‘We’re coming,’ Emily repeated. ‘Dove, there’s something we need to do here. Something important. Until it’s done, we’ve got to stick close to you.’

  I looked from one to the other, bewildered. ‘What is this thing?’

  ‘We don’t know,’ Lechasseur answered cryptically. ‘But we’ll know when we’ve done it.’

  And though I questioned them, neither one would say any more.