PROLOGUE
A graceful melody wafted through the air, the low, sonorous sounds of the violoncello deepened by the curling plumes of spice-scented cheroot smoke. The musicians were playing Haydn’s String Quartet Op. 20, No. 4, a great favorite of the host, and the violin’s sinuous notes danced above the background noise of gentlemanly bonhomie. The clink of crystal. The fizz of champagne. The deep-throated buzz of masculine conversation, punctuated by well-mannered laughter.
“Amidst all the turmoil of war and man’s savagery toward his fellow man, it’s edifying to see some pockets of civilized splendor still exist to celebrate intellectual achievement,” observed Count Rumford to the half dozen gentlemen gathered around him. High overhead, the classical deities of the frescoed ceiling beamed down upon them with lordly benevolence. “Our royal duke’s soirees always provide an enjoyable evening of cerebral conversation for our society of scholars.” A smile. “Along with very fine wine.”
“Unlike his reprobate brother, the Prince Regent, Sussex does have some redeeming qualities,” replied Sir Joseph Banks, the elderly president of the Royal Society, as he surveyed the aristocratic crowd from the confines of his wheeled Bath chair. “His interest in science and art harkens back to the enlightened court of his great-grandmother, Caroline of Ansbach,” he added somewhat querulously. “Now, those were the days.”
“Come, come, you can’t claim to be speaking from experience,” chided Rumford dryly. “You’re not quite as old as Methuselah, Sir Joseph.”
The comment drew a grudging laugh. “No. And yet, as my gout and the other unpleasant accompaniments of encroaching old age worsen, I often feel over nine hundred years old.” Banks drew in a mouthful of brandy, which sparked a reproving look from his personal physician. “As the Reaper’s blade swings ever closer, I find myself thinking of how I shall miss seeing all the new scientific discoveries that are looming on the horizon.”
“As shall I,” replied Rumford regretfully. “Our ships will soon be furling their sails and sinking beneath the waves, leaving the exploration and adventuring to the young.”
“A lament that all of us mere mortals make sooner or later.” Justinian DeVere, a courtly gentleman whose thick mane of hair was liberally threaded with silver, paused in passing and lifted his drink in salute to the group. “The thrill of discovery is seductive for those of us who belong to scientific societies, such as this one. We don’t wish to give it over to Death’s grasp.”
“And yet we must.” Banks gave a wry snort. “We live, we die.” He paused for a moment to watch one of the duke’s beloved pet birds fly into the room and perch atop a marble bust of Sir Robert Boyle. “It’s the natural order of the world, from the tiniest organisms we see in our microscopes to us supreme beings.”
“So it seems,” agreed DeVere. “And yet, all of us would agree there is much we don’t know about the workings of the universe. Perhaps the secret of Life is out there, waiting to be discovered by one of our young luminaries.”
“Hear, hear,” murmured Banks. “Ideas that many considered no better than lunatic ramblings a century ago are now at the forefront of science.”
“Yes, as Humboldt so eloquently says, Reason and Imagination lead us to new ways of seeing the cosmos,” replied DeVere. “There are those who believe Nature will be stripped of its magic if we learn all its secrets. But I think that knowledge will never kill the creative force of imagination. Rather, it inspires excitement, astonishment—and a sense of wonder.”
Banks nodded thoughtfully. “An interesting point.”
“Only consider the new discoveries of Volta, and his voltaic battery. The possibilities are exciting. If—” began DeVere, only to be interrupted by Rumford, who abruptly hailed two young men who had just entered the main room from one of the side salons.
“Ah, speaking of our young luminaries—here are the Golden Geminis, our bright flames for the future! Come here, my dear fellows, and allow me to introduce you to Sir Joseph,” he called in a booming voice. To Banks, he added, “Enough prosing from us old men. Lord Chittenden and his younger brother represent the new generation of our country’s intellectuals.”
Seeing that his own observations had been nipped in the bud, DeVere narrowed his eyes in irritation and then moved away to join another group of scholars.
The young men squeezed past the crowd at the refreshment table and hurried to acknowledge the count’s summons.
“It’s a great honor to meet such a legendary man of science, Sir Joseph,” said Cedric, Lord Chittenden, giving a deferential bow to Banks after greeting the others. “Though Count Rumford is being way too kind. My brother and I are merely callow dabblers—”
“On the contrary, Chittenden. True, you have much to learn, but the two of you embody the future,” said Rumford. “Your contributions to our weekly discussions at the Royal Institution show great imagination and curiosity. I sense great potential in your abilities. Indeed, I’m sure you will make meaningful contributions to the betterment of society.”
“That is high praise indeed, milord.” With a flush of pleasure darkening his cheekbones, Cedric acknowledged the compliment with a self-deprecating smile. “But—”
“But be assured my brother and I will do our best to live up to your expectations,” interjected his younger sibling with an air of confidence.
“Yes, of course. My sentiments exactly.” Another smile, though his eyes seemed to flick a warning at his companion. “As you see, Nicholas and I tend to think alike.”
The clever remark drew appreciative chuckles from the older gentlemen. The brothers were twins, so close in appearance that acquaintances often had trouble telling them apart. Tall, golden-haired, and gifted with faces that mirrored the fine-boned masculine beauty of a Botticelli painting, they were fast becoming the darlings of the Royal Institution for both their boyish charm and scientific acumen since arriving from the North to take up residence in London several months ago.
“Let us toast to great thoughts and great expectations,” said Rumford, and then gave a small cluck of concern on seeing their glasses were empty. “Ah, but you’re both in need of more champagne.” He moved away before the young men could demur, and returned a few moments later with two tapered flutes filled with sparkling wine.
“The first lesson that you young jackanapes must learn is that one never allows one’s glass to be empty at gatherings like this,” drawled Rumford. “Liquid refreshments keep the conversations well lubricated.”
“Ah, well if you insist.” Nicolas flashed a crooked grin and accepted the drinks. “Cedric and I certainly don’t wish to disappoint,” he said, turning to his brother with an exaggerated flourish.
Cedric hesitated, then dutifully took one of the glasses.
“To exploring beyond the current boundaries of science,” said Nicholas with effervescent enthusiasm.
“Nicky,” murmured Cedric softly, looking a little embarrassed at his brother’s cocky outburst in front of London’s leading men of science.
“That’s the spirit!” applauded the count.
“Yes, to exploration,” said Banks, staring meditatively at the last bit of brandy in his goblet before he raised it in salute. “And the never-ending discovery of new knowledge.”