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“What’s all that?” Ruth asked, as she and Ivy drank their tea with Thomas. He had started insisting on them all having afternoon tea together in an effort to see more of Ruth. With Mech’s progress coming along so well, she barely left the workshop. Its body was nearly complete and quite human looking, and its mind was capable of mimicking an almost natural conversation.
Thomas put down one of the many letters he was rifling through. “I have been contacted by many of my friends in recent months.”
“Really?”
“Yes. In fact, almost every unmarried friend who has met you has contacted me, enquiring about your availability.”
“Availability? We’re talking about marriage again? I thought I had been firm on the matter.”
Thomas sighed as Ivy stared at her teacup in an attempt to stay out of the conversation that was so blatant that even Ruth picked up on it.
“I am simply telling you that they have shown interest. I’m not asking you to do anything about it. I just wish that I had a good excuse to give them. Most have only met you briefly. Some have only seen you at balls and simply wish the opportunity to talk with you. It’s difficult to give them a reason as to why.”
Ruth huffed, but didn’t have an answer for him. She knew that ‘she doesn’t want to marry’ wouldn’t be taken as an acceptable answer. She would be expected to find a husband eventually. And eventually was approaching far sooner than she would like.
Ivy cleared her throat a little, finally seeming to have given up on staring at her tea cup. “I was just thinking,” she ventured. “Why don’t you tell them that she’s already being courted?”
Thomas waved his hand dismissively. “They would ask who the suitor is. It would be difficult to invent and maintain the illusion of an imaginary man.”
“Well, aren’t you already doing that? With The Owl, I mean.”
“Yes, and look how well that’s turning out.”
Ruth shook her head, her fingers tapping on the table as she thought. “No, I think Ivy might have a point. I could just say that I’m involved with The Owl.”
“But we’re already having a problem with that little masquerade. Making it more complicated won’t help matters.”
“I don’t see how it would make it worse,” she countered.
Thomas stared, though Ruth knew that he wasn’t truly looking at her. It was the look he had when he was processing a particularly extraordinary idea of hers. His mind needed time to catch up.
“No,” he finally agreed. “I don’t suppose it could possibly make it worse at this point, could it? Your mother most likely won’t be happy with the falsehood, but I doubt she would go so far as to out you. However, this doesn’t change the fact that The Owl doesn’t exist.”
“Apart from James’ pestering, no one has seemed too dubious of our story that he is simply reclusive. With my own nature, most will probably think it’s a good match.”
“Well, quite. Though there will come a time when people will expect a wedding, and you cannot marry a man who does not exist.”
“That is a problem for another day. If nothing else, we can say I broke it off when the lack of wedding becomes too conspicuous and hopefully, by that point, my age will lead to things calming down.”
Ivy let out a small laugh. “I don’t know any other woman who is so keen to age.”
“Do not misunderstand me, Ivy, I do greatly appreciate my looks. I just wish everyone else would appreciate them a little less. Or do so from afar.”
“Ah yes, how terribly inconvenient it must be to have such beauty.”
Ruth knew that she was joking, but it still stung. “Don’t be so glib,” she said, in a tone she hoped was equally joking, instead of betraying the twisting of her insides. “I was simply being honest.”
Ivy nodded, seemingly catching onto Ruth’s discomfort.
“Anyway, we should head back to the workshop. We still have the eye problem to fix.”
“The eye problem?” Thomas asked. “What eye problem?”
“Mech has none. His body won’t get him far without any.”
“That’s not true,” Ivy countered. “Old Guinevere, who lives down the street from me, has been blind since she was a little girl. Mum said it was illness. Almost killed her. But Guinevere worked her whole life and has six grandchildren, so she must manage somehow.”
“Hmm. Perhaps we’ll hire this Guinevere to teach Mech how to get about without any sight if we can’t figure out eyes for him.”
Thomas frowned. “Surely, you can use cameras of some kind?”
“Cameras are not swift,” Ruth reminded him. “Nor are they particularly compact. These need to fit in his head.”
“Well how do Fralsens see to drive?”
“They don’t. They have an inbuilt map of London and all road users have little transmitters which alert the Fralsens to their proximity. Anything more complex than that is beyond us.”
“Fair enough. I shall leave that to you. But a blind mechanical man will be difficult to sell.”
“My job is to create,” Ruth reminded him. “Yours is to figure out how to sell the creations. If I try to think about profitability, it will clutter my thoughts.”
Thomas rolled his eyes. “Now you sound like an artist. A poor one at that.”
“Then it’s a good thing that we have no fear of starving, isn’t it?”