Here is the second chapter of the story of Algy. If you missed Chapter One, you can read it here.
Chapter 2
This unfortunate circumstance was, as has previously been intimated, only the beginning of a set of events which seemed to go from bad to worse.
Algernon’s mother-in-law came down with a most tiresome condition, which seemed to involve a great deal of coughing – particularly during the small hours and after lunch – and it was decided that she would have to stay at the Grey House until she was well enough to return to London.
This lady had never been particularly well-disposed towards her son-in-law. Now that her temper was rendered somewhat shorter, presumably by her malady and lack of sleep, she became quite vociferous in her criticism and complaints about him.
“Why ever didn’t you marry that boy from the East India Company, Josephine?” she would demand of her daughter. “Much better prospects, I would have said.” or “Oh my dear, are you still wearing that style? Surely your husband could afford to buy you something a little less dated?”
Josephine busied herself with bathing her mother’s forehead and preparing herbal concoctions to ease her cough, and looked endlessly miserable.
Algernon couldn’t decide whether this was because she secretly agreed with her mother and was now regretting her marriage or because her mother’s criticisms of her beloved husband distressed her severely, although she was unwilling to contradict her ailing parent.
He considered asking his wife which of these was the case, in order to calm his tormented mind, but – if truth be told – his mood was now so low that he strongly suspected that it was the former, and could not bring himself to have his worst fears confirmed.
In February – in fact on February 14th – the parlour maid and Algy’s favourite groom eloped together. Algernon was furious at the inconvenience caused by this selfish action. Why should servants run off to enjoy a future together without a second thought for those they left behind? Now he would have to find replacements for them and the new staff would need to be trained in how matters were conducted at the Grey House.
None of the aforementioned events could be called catastrophic, but together they created a most unhappy state of affairs for Algernon and he became extremely downhearted. He took to hiding away in his study for long hours and even chose to have his meals there on frequent occasions.
“Algy, dear, please don’t punish me so!” entreated Josephine. “I know mother can be rather tiresome and I understand that you are not in the best of humours, but I do miss your company at dinner.”
Alas, Algernon was deaf to the pleadings of his beautiful wife. He simply became more introspective and silent.
It all started with The Case.
This book, I decided, needed to have a story that started one way and ended somewhere very different because of a surprising plot development in Chapter Four. However this vital section would be missing, so the mystery would be to work out what had happened in the main character’s life to change things so completely.
I searched in my stock box for the most insignificant and unhappy-looking male doll I could find. Here he was. It would take all my skill to transform this sad little man into someone splendid, but I love a challenge!
Next a smart uniform, befitting his new status. Why, he positively swaggered as I pinned that medal to his chest!
If anything, these words made me more apprehensive than I had previously been. As I alighted from the contraption and the smoke from its boiler began to clear, I saw a figure who could only be Lord Horatio standing beside a rusting collection of gears and machine parts. Despite my determination to maintain a calm demeanour, I have to admit that I gasped – or possibly squealed slightly.
His words were friendly enough, though it was difficult to read his expression, since the vast majority of his face was covered, either by his enormous moustache or by the huge monocle he wore.
“What do you think of that?” he demanded, his voice bursting with pride as he threw open the door.
Blades are razor sharp, though. My gardeners tell me the cut he gives is second to none.”
It’s a tiny room – just 8 inches wide by 6 inches high, and a mere 3 inches deep when the case is closed. As it’s at 1:12 scale, that equates to the same number of feet in our measurements.
She has persuaded one of the gardeners to tutor her in the rudiments of welding and metalwork, and by patiently dismantling clockwork machinery, she is teaching herself to build simple gadgets. The lamp was one of her first. It’s simple, but effective, switching on when the attached clock shows that dusk has fallen.
Hello. It is me, Bjørn again. I was telling you in 
“If you ver villing, though, zis could be altered. Wat if I ver to offer you a new heart and a new brain? You have seen ze marvels I can do. It would be ze most glorious experiment, in ze name of Science! If you ver villing, you could become a showcase of mein art! Your mechanised brain and heart on display for all to see ze vunders of ze clockverk body. You could achieve anything once zese adjustments had been made. You’d be as great as me. Maybe greater…”
Eagerly I agreed. My weak heart, which had almost killed me once, would be replaced with a dependable clockwork mechanism, encased in a glass dome, so that all could wonder at its strength, and at my master’s skill. I would be a walking advertisement for his abilities. He explained less about the alterations to my brain, but I was led to understand that my ability to learn, to reason and to imagine would be considerably enhanced.
Certainly now my mind and heart are stronger, keener than they were. I can work harder, faster, better and I hold information and make deductions at lightning speed. All this, the Doctor expected. Perhaps he feared it slightly. Yet he found a way to maintain his dominance.
I am Bjørn. People call me Heart of Glass. People pity me. Or they are fearful. Or disgusted. A few show curiosity tinged with admiration.
I encountered Doctor Kopp when he saved my life. I was a boiler-man on an icebreaker in the Northern seas. For long, long shifts I shovelled coal into the great, ravenous furnace that powered the ship. The owners worked me hard and my body – always thin and long and rather weak – was close to breaking point.
Finally the day arrived! My dear guardian, Uncle Razzy as I call him, has allowed us to celebrate our wedding in his glorious cliff-top mansion. Not only that; he gave us two wonderful presents, both invented and built by himself.
He knows I’ve always loved the stars and planets, so he made us a clockwork orrery, encased in a glass dome. He also knew that my dear husband (how strange it feels to use that word!) is fascinated by the idea of remote communication, so his second gift to us was a telephonic device – also clockwork, naturally – that will enable us to speak to him from anywhere in the world. My Beloved insists that this is just the start and one day everyone will have one of these devices and be able to talk together from all corners of the earth.
I dare say you’re longing to see our wedding finery, so here’ is a picture of us about to enjoy a goblet of Uncle Razzy’s finest wine after the ceremony.
When I looked, I simply couldn’t believe my eyes! The most beautiful airship you can imagine was coming closer and closer. At first I simply thought it was a happy coincidence that the pilot should choose that very moment to fly past our window. But no! My wonderful husband assured me that we were due to embark on this exquisite vessel and fly off together into the sunset. This was the honeymoon surprise he had been teasing me with over the past few weeks.
I rather regret my – um – outburst now. I confess I hadn’t realised the amount of work that goes into sewing a tailcoat – especially at 1/12 scale. The seamstress grew quite angry. She showed me the number of darts (never knew darts were used in sewing) and the intricacies of lining the tails and collar, and all with those huge clumsy fingers of hers. I was anxious, though. 
Only three days to the wedding, and there I was in my shirtsleeves, waving my watch at her and demanding that she finish the jacket quickly. After all, she still had my hat and goggles to make.
“We almost sold the engine room,” announced the young man who runs one of the shops (the physical one) I supply, when I wandered in with some new stock last week.
The responses were many and various! Many iconised likes, loves and wows. The comments ranged from the singularly unhelpful ‘Dress her in black!!’, through ‘What IS steampunk?’ to one person who solicitously explained the difference between cogs and fly wheels as she thought I must be confused. As I had hoped and expected, though, many of the kind and lovely people took time to suggest extras and modifications that would help me to fulfil the brief.
The veil – their collected wisdom told me – had to go. The headdress had to include (oh shudder and groan at the dreary cliché!) a top hat, and possibly goggles. The bouquet needed to be bigger and bolder, the bodice more decorated and – at her waist – either a pouch or (I loved this idea) a chatelaine.
So, having added several necklace chains worth of metalwork, a (heavily disguised) kid leather hat and gone along with the other ideas – except the dratted goggles; I have my pride! – I reposted my altered little lady.
Well if that person is reading this, they might like to take a trip over to the 
Steampunk - Shrunk! 