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Chapter 15

I settle very easily into the Gardiner household. I help Mrs Gardiner with George and Isabella; they have classes during the mornings, and in the afternoons we always go on a walk to a nearby park.

My first evening is spent describing Lizzie and Jane's weddings, and catching the Gardiners up on the latest Longbourne gossip. Miss King's uncle has brought her to live with him in the North after a particularly lively evening she spent with Captain Denny. The latest gossip hints at compromise. I can't say I'm surprised.

On my second evening at London, Mr Gardiner has invited some business associates for dinner, so to my surprise I take out my evening gown rather sooner than I expected.

Mr Gardiner works in the textile industry, so he has invited quite a variety of people; a wool merchant, Mr Harding, and a cotton importer, Mr Howell. He has also invited a silk manufacturer, Mr Sutton. Apparently they are not direct competitors, and are looking into a partnership. Mr Gardiner's last guest is rather unusual; he is a Frenchman, whose English is slightly accented, but not as much as I would have thought, and answers to "Monsieur Breton". Mrs Gardiner has put him next to me at dinner, since my French isn't too bad. I soon realize that my theoretical French doesn't hold up well to a real interaction, so we return to plain old English.

"So, Monsieur Breton, what has brought you to our shores?"

It's a surprising decision, to be sure. We are at war with the French, after all – Napoleon's rampage in Europe is far from over – and the general consensus on the French, is that we British all wish the Channel was a bit wider.

But Monsieur Breton is a short, black haired, well humoured man in his mid thirties, and he seems rather harmless to me. Apart from his build – he looks strong as an ox.

"I am working on some improvements to your looms. Your uncle contacted me when he learnt of my study of the topic. He's hoping I will sell my prototype to him. Not to sound pedantic, but I think I will bring him a tidy profit if I do; English looms are quite outdated."

"Oh? How so?"

"A fellow Lyonnais, Monsieur Jacquard, introduced a new loom, which made weaving much more efficient. Your Uncle had heard of this, and that I was collaborating with him."

"How interesting. How do the French looms differ from our own?"

"We have managed to shorten the moment where you must separate the threads to weave a new, perpendicular, thread through the loom. Normally this is all done by hand, by children, which means there can be mistakes, and it's quite long. We have made a special set of hooks to replace the children. They simply hook themselves on the right threads, and when we lift them up, the separation is much easier!"

"Oh, I think I see. How do you change the hooks? It must be cumbersome to do so."

"We have fashioned some wooden cards with holes in them, to let the hooks through only in certain places. Each different card makes the hooks pull at a different set of threads, which will make a different pattern. We have to replace the card each time we wish to change the pattern – but that is far less tedious than separating the threads without hooks each time. The result is similar to tartan, if you know how the Scots dress."

"Oh, I see, how interesting. Your system reminds me of a music box." And it does; in modern days, some street performers play music boxes, which are fed sheets of perforated paper to create the right notes. They're usually cranked by hand. I wouldn't have remembered that if I hadn't worked on Miss Bingley's box with Mr Gregory, and thought a great deal about how the mechanics there worked.

"How funny you should mention those! The original inventor of this loom technique, Basile Bouchon, mentions that when he thought about this loom system in 1725, he based it off the way music boxes work. He was from Lyon, also. You're the first person I've met who has thought about it that way."

"Oh, well, it wasn't so strange for me; I've been repairing a music box this winter, so I have become quite familiar with the way they work."

"Oh, a fellow mechanic! You must come to see my prototype, perhaps you shall have some input for me."

And just like that, I have a new project.

I spend the rest of the evening with Monsieur Breton, discussing this and that. We get along very well, and by the end of the evening it is agreed I shall accompany Mr Gardiner when he next visits Monsieur Breton and his prototype.

The next few days pass by in a flurry of outings; mostly with the children, but my aunt also insists I purchase a new dress, because I cannot spend a season in London with merely my old clothes – the horror.

I let her choose everything. My eye for fashion is decidedly lacking in her opinion – I'm still affected by modern beauty standards. She promises she has made choices which will suit my complexion the best, and a pattern which is in style. I believe her.

I'm cautiously optimistic when the Darcy's arrive for dinner.

Mrs Gardiner has outdone herself; the table is beautiful, if small. It's only the five of us, so that doesn't really matter, though.

Georgiana won't meet my eyes during our initial introduction, which just won't do.

"Miss Darcy, I hear from your brother that you are very talented on the pianoforte. Which piece are you working on?"

The conversation is a little stilted, but eventually Georgiana loosens up and admits she enjoys playing dramatic music. I love it. The more drama, the better, in my humble opinion. She sits straighter when I tell her so, and becomes slightly more animated.

The conversation at table goes to Mr Gardiner's business.

"Oh, by the way, Mary, Monsieur Breton told me he is available for us to go visit him tomorrow, if that is agreeable to you."

"Thank you, uncle. I have no engagements tomorrow, do I Mrs Gardiner?"

"No, my dear, you may go."

"This Monsieur Breton, he sounds French? How came he to live in London?"

My Uncle's face clouds over. "It's a bit sad," he warns. "Monsieur Breton is a very good mechanic, and he has been working on looms for the last ten years. He had an associate, Monsieur Jacquard, who ran their business. But Monsieur Jacquard got greedy, and he filed a patent for one of Monsieur Breton's inventions under his own name. That loom patent is making him rich in France, and he has even met Napoleon himself! Monsieur Breton filed a complaint, but he found the police at his door the next day. Can you believe it? He packed his belongings and fled to England on the spot. His English is good, and he is hoping he will be able to sell his patent here, but first he must recreate his loom."

"How shocking," Georgiana murmurs.

Shocking indeed. Monsieur Breton didn't mention that to me at all.

"It is saddening, for him. We are lucky to be living in Britain, far from the influence of that despot. How are you involved, Miss Bennet?"

"Monsieur Breton is making a prototype loom, and it functions in a similar way to the music box Mr Gregory and I were trying to fix in Netherfield. I am merely academically curious, that is all."

"Ah, I understand better, now. Miss Bennet is very gifted in mathematics and mechanics, Georgiana, and could probably run circles around me on the subject. I was a poor scientist, and rather better in the arts."

"Surely not, brother. You completed your studies with honours."

"Yes, but I had to work twice as hard in mechanics than in philosophy."

Georgiana's face is almost funny. It seems that Mr Darcy was never so candid with her before.

"I see you have surprised Miss Darcy. Be careful, Mr Darcy – we elder siblings must maintain a veneer of respectability; otherwise how shall we convince our younger sisters to listen to us?"

"I would always listen to my brother!" Georgiana protests earnestly.

"Then your brother is very lucky," I retort. "My own younger sisters only heed my advice when I am saying what they wish to hear. They grow strangely deaf whenever I speak of things they do not like."

"They are not good sisters, then?" Georgiana murmurs.

"No, they are the best of sisters. I would not have them be any different. It is important to be your own self, I believe, and I can't fault them for that."

Georgiana's eyes are round as saucers as she looks at me, then at her brother.

The rest of the evening is spent very agreeably; Georgiana still gets her deer in the headlights look when I say something slightly shocking, but when she sees Darcy ignore it, she seems to relax. At the end of the evening, the Darcy's invite us to their townhouse for dinner in a week. It seems my stay in London will have more social visits than I expected... sounds fun!