Outcasts by Sarah Stegall Page A

replied, “Electricity;” describing at the same time the various effects of that power. He constructed a small electrical machine, and exhibited a few experiments; he made also a kite, with a wire and string, which drew down that fluid from the clouds.
    â€”Frankenstein,
Volume I, Chapter I
    M ary put a restraining hand on Shelley’s arm, but he shook it off, gently. “Come, my Mary. There is nothing to fear.”
    Byron chuckled. “Indeed, I begin to think not. Consider it, my dear Mary. Should Shelley, the notorious atheist, be struck down by fire from heaven, thus giving triumph to his enemies? That would require Heaven to have a sardonic sense of humor, and I am persuaded that God does not know how to laugh. Shelley, what will you require of us?”
    Too afraid to speak, Mary stood trembling as the men readied their experiment.
    â€œWe must have a kite, some silken string—Mary, we shall commandeer your embroidery threads. Oh, and a kite. Oh, damn, where shall we find a kite?”
    Byron’s face went slightly pink, and he looked down at the fire. Mary was startled—he almost looked shy. Byron cleared his throat. “I am … tolerably good at making kites.” His glance slid sideways to Mary. “Mayhap I can press some silk petticoats into service—”
    Shelley laughed. “Famous! Yes, we must have some silk. Mary? You will oblige?”
    Mary’s first instinct was to slap Byron for his impudence. She made fists of her hands and put them behind her. “I think not, dearest. And I must urge you against this course.”
    Shelley was not listening. “I have it! A shirt, your lordship. Mine is muslin, it will hold too much water.”
    â€œAlbé’s shirt is silk,” Claire said, and giggled.
    â€œAh!” Shelley cried. “Come, Byron. Sacrifice your tailor to the needs of science!”
    Byron, reluctantly, unbuttoned his waistcoat. “If I am to sacrifice my wardrobe, I absolutely require lightning in a bottle. I shall toast you in it.”
    â€œTo be sure!” Shelley cried. Helplessly, Mary watched as her lover stripped the feathery plumes from an array of dried reeds, then tied the stems into a large X. “Polidori, please hold this.”
    Polidori held the X shaped frame, and Byron quickly tied the thin shirt onto it. Soon he held a clumsy but functional kite.
    As he worked, Mary noted that Byron’s chest was pale but well-muscled. Most of all, she noted the goosebumps on his skin. Byron looked at the kite carefully, then drained his brandy glass. “It might fly,” he said. “It is nearly as elegant as a pregnant camel, but perhaps it can become airborne. Indeed, in this wind, the pregnant camel might fly.”
    Claire returned at that moment, followed by a panting, dripping Fletcher. Fletcher carried a two foot high cylinder of glass. The inside of the lower third of the glass was lined with copper foil; a cork stopper closed its throat and a long wire ending in a ball of lead emerged from the cork. He set it down carefully on the small sideboard and stepped quickly away.
    Polidori caught up the water carafe from the sideboard. “You will need this, or so I am told.”
    Shelley shook his head. “Not at all. That is an outmoded conceit, thoroughly discredited by Dr. Franklin in his researches.”
    Looking offended, Polidori backed away, still holding the carafe.
    Byron cocked his head as he regarded Shelley. “You do not need water to contain the electrical fluid?”
    â€œOn the contrary. The fluid is captured in the metal of the inner lining, I believe.” Shelley busied himself with the jar, tightening the lid, rattling it to hear the chain inside tinkle against the glass. “Yes, all is in order.”
    Mary caught Shelley’s hand in hers. He looked at her, startled, then his smile softened his face. “I cannot allow myself to fear,” he said softly to her.