My Clockwork Muse (13 page)

When I went downstairs, Olimpia cooed
appreciatively at my appearance.

"You look splendid, Eddy!" she cried,
clapping her hands together.

I bowed grandly, mocking my own
pretentiousness. Meaning to make some quip at my own expense, I
instead emerged dumbfounded by the beauty I saw before me. Olimpia
was radiant. She wore a bell-shaped gown, uncovered at the
shoulders, and long white gloves. An array of silk flowers
festooned her raven curls. I made to speak, but found that I could
not. Across the table from her, Coppelius was already digging into
his dinner. With the point of his knife, he gestured brusquely
toward an empty chair, and I sat down happily beside Olimpia.
Dansby brought us our dinners, but I scarcely knew what to do or
say. When my eye fell upon Coppelius' face, I was surprised to see
what looked like a twinkle of pleasure emanating from the old man's
good eye, buried as it was under his bushy brow.

During the course of our meal, I found that
Coppelius was still flush with the excitement of the day. My
feelings for him had undergone a transformation since our wild
ride. His defiance of the police inspired me, and—though I had not
yet puzzled out the true meaning of the evidence I had discovered
against me—Taps' logic coupled with Olimpia's faith and the old
man's boldness had filled me with a zeal to prove my innocencefor
innocent I was.

An idea came to me all at once. I leaned
forward and pointed my fork at Coppelius' purple nose. "Gessler is
framing me," I declared.

The doctor stopped chewing and cocked his
good eye at me. His vulture's eye peered disconcertingly somewhere
over my shoulder.

"He's framing no one now," Coppelius said.
"Not after I spilled him to the pavement. Rolled his bones on the
hard cobbles of Hell's Highway, I did!" He slapped the table and
spat a laugha laugh that spewed tiny wet morsels of roast beef all
over my fork hand. In my new-found passion, I was inclined to
ignore it. But when Coppelius leaned back laughing and looked to
share his quip with Dansby, I quickly wiped my hand clean before
his foul spittle could dry on my fingers. For his part, Dansby,
standing by the kitchen door, merely rocked back on his heels.
Coppelius' laughter might have woken him from sleep.

Undeterred, I went on, amazed that I had not
thought of it before. "The man is framing me," I repeated, keeping
my fork hand to myself this time.

Coppelius shoved a hunk of meat into his
mouth and his teeth rasped across the tines of his fork as he
withdrew it, making my flesh crawl. "Framing you?"

"Yes." I looked from the doctor to Olimpia
who, eating daintily, seemed not to be listening. "It is clear as
day now," I went on to Coppelius only. "What else could it be?"

"It could be your somnambulism, Edgar. As I
have said."

I waved my hands dismissively as if the
doctor's words might be swept from the air. "No, no, listen. It is
all Gessler's doing, I tell you. Was he not alone in my house
during my absence?"

"Was he?"

"And who had freer access to Burton's
basement than he? And this I did not tell you, Doctor, but it was
my impression at the time that Gessler's hand was in this from the
beginning, that he had followed me to the crime scene, that he had
hidden on the stairs." I looked again at Olimpia and for a moment
my heart melted at the notion that she had professed belief in my
monster. It broke my heart to betray her trust, but at that moment,
I myself no longer did.

"And the creature...?"

"One of the man's associates. The Irishman,
perhaps. In actor's makeup."

"A joke gone awry?"

"No, not a joke. An attempt to make me doubt
my senses, to believe myself mad."

"Surely not!"

"Oh, surely
yes
!" I retorted boldly.
"It all makes sense to me now. Gessler was in my house, and quite
alone, I assure you. My desk drawer, and my..." I patted the pocket
of my frock coat and realized that not only was I wearing a
different jacket, but I had left the vial behind at my house. I had
thrust it into the same desk drawer in which I now knew Gessler had
planted the most damning evidence against me. Once again, however,
I thought better of telling any of this to Coppelius.

When I hesitated, Coppelius asked, "What
of
your desk drawer?"

I cleared my throat. "Only that Gessler had
free access to it," I said, "as well as every other part of my
house. Any evidence he finds there now, I tell you, was planted by
him."

Coppelius pointed his dead vulture's eye at
me—skeptically, I supposed. "And for what reason would this Gessler
want to frame you?"

"I cannot begin to answer the 'why' when I
still do not even know the 'what' for a certainty."

"The 'what'?"

"Burton!" I exclaimed. At my outburst,
Olimpia looked up from her chewing. "I saw Billy Burton alive with
my own eyes. I swear to it—as certainly as I am looking at
you—
and I will prove it!
" I slapped my palm on the table,
rattling the silver. "Gessler believes Burton is the dead man. It
looked like him, I will admit it. But until a man can be in two
places at onceboth dead and alive at the same time—I tell you, the
dead man was a fraud."

"Gessler's man in actor's makeup..."
Coppelius prompted.

"Yes! Ha-Ha! Easy to pull off in the darkness
of the basement chamber. I will expose his fraud. This passing
resemblance to Burton will be as nothing to the living and
breathing man when I show him to the inspector, as I will
tomorrow."

"He will be compelled to believe you when you
show him the real man!"

Buoyed, I continued. "Furthermore, I will
visit the scene of what Gessler unjustly calls the 'Rue Morgue'
murder." The man had been lying to my face, every word falling from
his damned Prussian tongue a lie. "The 'Rue Morgue'!" I spat. "Pure
invention."

"Do you think this is wise?"

"Wise? Nothing has ever been clearer to me.
Gessler wants Dupin? I will give him Dupin, by God! Oh, yes. He
will investigate this 'Rue Morgue', all right, and he will find it
every bit the fraud that was the other. And I will present it as
such right to Gessler's face."

"But if you are attacked again?"

I laughed, for I had already considered this.
"You mean should Gessler devise to have some poor Hop-Frog amble
out of the chimney after me? Perhaps his Irishman in an ape
suit?"

"You must consider the danger," Coppelius
suggested in the midst of my laughter.

"Oh, but Gessler will not know of my visit
this time. He will have no way of preparing for me. And I will not
be alone, in any case. I will take Briggs with me. I fear he is the
only friend I have," I added, realizing sadly, as I mentally sorted
through a list of candidates, that it was true.

Olimpia disagreed. "You have us," she said.
Barely audible, her sweet voice tickled my ear and sent a thrill
through me, raising the hairs on my arms. When I looked in her
direction, her eyes vanished beneath luxurious lashes as she gazed
down at her barely picked at food. I wondered at first who exactly
her 'us' encompassed. Dr. Coppelius? Dansby? Was I one of them now?
Were we 'us'? It seemed strange to consider it, but I supposed it
was true.

"You are quite safe here, my boy." Coppelius
reached across the table and slapped me on the shoulder as if to
seal some compact that now bound us together. Then he stood
abruptly, clapping his hands. "But enough of this. Dansby!"

Moments later, Coppelius led us into an
adjoining room. Its wood-trimmed walls were papered in maroon
velvet and we sat in the warm glow of many brass lamps. Dansby
poured the wine and our crystal gleamed as warmly as our bellies
soon did. After a few minutes, at the doctor's insistence, Olimpia
made her way to a great harp and, sitting in the chair that had
been placed next to it, tilted its elegant frame onto her shoulder
and began to play.

I watched her delicate fingers glide over the
strings, not seeming to touch them, but producing a sound that
might have spilled from Heaven itself. When she began to sing, it
was as if angels had descended from the clouds. I was entranced. As
she reached forward to pluck one of the harp strings, I caught
sight of her bare shoulder blade and noted the milky flawlessness
of her skin. I started in embarrassment when I saw that Coppelius
was watching me watching her.

"She is beautiful, is she not?" he asked with
a keen look in his good eye.

Perhaps he thought my scrutiny of his
daughter too brazen. I felt my cheeks redden. "I assure you, sir—"
I began, but he waved off my apology.

"And her singing?" he asked.

I stammered, not knowing what he expected me
to say. "Enchanting," I managed boldly at last, seeing that the man
was not condemning me.

"Flawless is how I would put it. Wouldn't
you?"

Our conversation seemed encapsulated by the
angelic sound. "Indeed I would!" I exclaimed, feeling overcome.
"Flawless it is!"

This seemed to please the old man. He clapped
his hands together and uttered a cry of triumph. I found myself
laughing along with him. In the next instant, Coppelius was on his
feet. He rushed to the side wall and flung away a cloth, revealing
a great pipe organ. He sat and after pulling some levers and
pumping pedals began playing in accompaniment to Olimpia's
song.

This took me by surprise and I applauded,
shouting, "Bravo, Doctor! Bravo!" Coppelius had astounded me once
again. It was shaping up to be a gay evening indeed. I felt my
worries slipping away.

Coppelius played the organ the same way he
drove a carriage—as if the gates of Hell had been thrown open
before him. His arms flailed above his hunched and twisted back as
he played. He might have been again driving the brougham, thrashing
the horses. But no one barreled after him this time.

After a few moments, he began tugging at
levers and pulling out the organ's stops. I heard a loud clanking
of metal and saw wisps of steam rising from a vent in the floor.
Then Coppelius whirled from his seat. While he had ceased playing,
the organ did not. To my astonishment, I saw the keys rising and
falling and the foot pedals pumping in the same manner as when
Coppelius had been playing. Only now, he acted not as musician but
as conductor, describing wide arcs in the air with his hands in
time to the music emanating from his ghostly machine.

After a few minutes of this, he turned to
Olimpia and bowed deeply. Then she too, flipping a switch or
turning a knob to activate some hidden mechanism in the frame,
stood while her harp continued to play without her. I half-rose
from my chair to see the strings vibrating under spectral fingers.
Olimpia took her father's hands and they began to dance to the tune
provided by Coppelius' ghostly orchestra.

A grand show, indeed!

"Bravo!" I shouted again, clapping. This
Coppelius was a cleverer man than ever I had imagined! Not only a
medical man but a cunning engineer as well, a magician of gear and
shaft.

I sat on the edge of my seat watching the
pair whirl across the dance floor. I was mesmerized by Olimpia's
every move. For an instant, I even forgot the old man's
hideousness. Olimpia alone filled my vision, a divine solitary
dancer. When I again became aware of Coppelius' dark form, I
fancied Olimpia an enchanted creature cursed by a malevolent god to
forever cast the grim misshapen shadow of her father.

With each turning of the dancers, the old
man's pale blue vulture's eye flashed at me. I could read his
thoughts in his glances at me and I was filled with trepidation,
for I myself was no dancer. The very idea of it made me feel
awkward and foolish. To think of my clumsy tread spoiling Olimpia's
graceful step filled me with embarrassment. By the time Coppelius
offered me Olimpia's hand, I had already concocted a thousand
excuses to refrain.

"A young girl tires quickly of dancing with
her father, Edgar, my boy. Now it is for you to see if the
flawlessness of her singing is matched by the lightness of her
step!"

The intensity of Coppelius' paternal pride
took me by surprise. An instant later, I found Olimpia's hand in
mine, though I could not say how it got there. Even through her
silk glove, I could feel the warmth and softness of her palm and my
embarrassment became a distant memory.

If I trod upon her delicate toes as we
danced, I did not know it, for I felt as though I existed now in a
world of dreams. I was aware of nothing but the feel of Olimpia's
palm in my hand, the nearness of her face to mine, the curve of her
waspish waist. Even the music seemed to withdraw into the air
around us. All my life, I had felt haunted by ill angels only, but
now in the embrace of an angel of the divine, I felt that I at last
knew what happiness was.

Later, in my room, I tried to recount every
last moment of it. I recalled her laughter, hoping it was joy. I
dared not suppose it to be love. I could still smell her hair in my
nostrils as I folded my new clothes and hung them carefully over
the back of a chair. Maybe it was only derision. Who would not
laugh at my heavy-heeled stomping?

I crawled into the canopied bed, wondering
vaguely how long my happiness could last.

I reached across my body to turn down the
lamp. By the time I settled back into my pillows, I had my
answer.

There on the wall opposite my bed, the moon
had cast a shadow.

A shadow in the shape of a raven.

I resisted for as long as I could, but when
his tapping threatened to wake the entire household, I cracked open
the window.

"Thanks for taking me with you!" Tap groused
as he crawled inside.