The Viennese Waltz(104)

Hayley looked at him, surprised. Peter couldn’t tell whether it was the question or the challenging tone. He was about to apologize, but it proved unnecessary. The girl, after only a slight pause, explained. “Lift is a function of the shape of the wing and something called Bernoulli’s Principle. Bernoulli lived in the eighteenth century in our timeline, and will probably never be born in this one. But he figured out how air flowing over a surface or through a pipe acted, and later people used that to figure out how to shape wings and get lift out of them without flapping. I have the figures at home and can show them to you, if you’re interested. In fact, Dr. Faust, our tutor, and my little brother are building a glider. Just to test the principles.”

“You’re building an airplane?”

“Just a glider,” Dana Fortney said. “It’s to teach Brandon the theory of aeronautics and it’s based on a design that Hal Smith has vetted back in Grantville. Frankly, I would have been more comfortable if they hadn’t ever started the thing. And I am thankful for the farm, and the up-time plants, and even the bugs, that keep distracting him from the deathtrap.”

“It’s not a deathtrap, honey. It’s quite well built,” Sonny said.

“So it’s a well-built deathtrap,” Dana said with some heat, apparently going over a long-running argument. “You know perfectly well that the danger is pilot error and with no qualified pilots to teach them, pilot error is a virtual certainty.”

Peter looked at his wife, and his wife looked back at him. He sympathized with Dana Fortney’s concerns, but at least no one was going to chop her daughter’s head off. Then he thought about the BarbieCo stock that was just starting to circulate and realized that that wasn’t necessarily true.

They had a five course meal and the Fortneys politely thanked the servants with every course, often asking them to carry their compliments to the chef. It made Peter feel boorish not to be doing so, especially since first Amadeus, then Márton, started copying them.

Discussion was wide-ranging. Politics and engineering, economics and medicine, nutrition and vegetables. Sophia was surprised when Dana mentioned that her family had a vegetarian meal at least once a week, which often included beans and cornbread, made from corn imported from Spain.

“But surely you can afford meat if you are paying for maize from Spain.”

“It’s not a matter of cost, but of health. Too much fat is bad for you and the occasional vegetarian meal helps clean the system.”

All in all, it was a confusing evening, vaguely uncomfortable, but highly intriguing. The stock certificates were brought up and Hayley Fortney rolled her eyes, then the boy Brandon said, “Moo,” only to be admonished by his mother.

Then Dana turned to Sophia and asked, “Was Amadeus as silly as Brandon is when he was eleven?”

“I don’t understand?”

“Brandon has noted that a hayli is the price of a cow or close to it. And, not yet being civilized, he has latched on to that to tease his sister. And it wasn’t her fault. Heather Mason, back in Grantville, decided who went on which bill.”

“Which one is Heather Mason?” asked Peter. “I thought they were all in Vienna. Which certificate is she on?”

“Heather, the rat,” said Hayley, “isn’t on any of them. But she’s going to be. I’ve written Dave Marcantonio a letter insisting that we need a half-pfennig coin and Heather would be perfect for it.”

“Coin?” Márton asked. “I thought you disdained silver.”

“Yes, we do, mostly. But this won’t be a silver coin. It will probably be made of iron or copper, maybe bronze. No more metallic value than the paper. Just a marker like the rest of them are.”

Sophia was running the conversation through her head and suddenly she laughed. Everyone turned to her and she said, “Yes, as it happens, Amadeus was just as silly as Brandon when he was eleven. He put a garden snake in Polyxena’s bed one time.”

Suddenly Hayley was looking very severely at Amadeus. Sophia laughed again, and almost decided she liked the young woman. “That was the first time I have been able to laugh like that since it happened,” she said.

“Since what happened?” Dana asked.

“My wife . . .” said Márton, “. . . was a lady in waiting to Princess Maria Anna when she went to Bavaria to be married to Maximilian. She was executed after Maria Anna ran away. I don’t see how she was implicated in that escapade. Polyxena could be a bit silly about social position, but she wouldn’t have done anything so insane.”