Victoria Button and the Horologist

The cat sat twitching his pure white tail and looking rather pleased with himself on the porch of the house that sat at the end of Wicket Lane. His golden-green eyes were wide with mischief and at his paws sat a dead mouse. The cat stared at the red door lit by the afternoon sun waiting for it to open. When it did, a girl clad in a great man's overcoat stepped out, her black button boots clicking on the stone porch. She stooped down to examine the cat's prize. And rather than screaming in fright, like most little girls would do, she beamed at the cat. Her brown eyes alight with pride.

“Well, there you are Mister! And what treasure have you plundered today? Ah... a great and mighty mouse,” Victoria exclaimed as she reached down scratching the cat just under his chin.

The white feline purred in response to her praises. He had spent a quarter of an hour chasing this particular mouse across the backyard and through rather difficult hidey holes all for the sake of feeling Victoria's small hands caress his fur and hear her musical voice praise his prowess. The cat gave a “you're welcome” sort of meow and twirled his body against Victoria's leg before he bounded off across the lane towards some new adventure.

Victoria had been greeted with the corpses of mice every day for two weeks now by this cat. She hadn't bothered to give him a name, other than calling him Mister, because he didn't really belong to her. He just appeared not long after Victoria had settled in to live with Mr. Gall and his two eccentric roommates, Lucan and Mr. Braten in the house on Wicket Lane.

Today, Victoria was headed into town because in two days' time it was going to be Mr. Gall's birthday and she wanted to buy him something nice. Victoria had spent the entire last week selling as many buttons as she could and had saved quite a bit of money, which now resided in the little purse on her belt. She straightened the cloche hat upon her black bob and headed down the lane towards the little street of shops that made up downtown Welwyn Garden City.

Victoria found herself wandering down the main thoroughfare gazing through the myriad of shop windows. She hadn't anything in particular in mind for Mr. Gall's present, but knew that she would simply know once she laid eyes on it. And sure enough, as she came upon the horologist's window, she saw it. It was a very old and very small astrolabe. The afternoon sunlight had caught the silver gleam of the astrolabe as it sat displayed on a pedestal of highly figured wood. It had a small silver chain hooked to the top of it and was decorated with star shaped pointers and an ornate rete. Victoria looked up at the sign above the shop's door. It read, Petites Merveilles - Horologist Extraordinaire.

“Little Wonders,” Victoria read a loud to herself.

Even the name of the shop was perfect. Victoria turned the handle on the door and a bell jangled against the heavy wood. The shop was tidy and smelled of varnish and a faint scent of lilac wafted about the dimly lit room. There were glass cases lit with tiny lights to show of their gleaming contents positioned around the shop. The walls were filled from floor to ceiling with various clocks, watches, leather-bound books on clocks and watches, and a myriad of gadgets constructed from clock parts.

As the heavy door brought itself to a close behind Victoria, and her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the shop, a tall, spindly man emerged from behind a curtain that was hung at the back of the shop.

He smiled at Victoria as he came to stand behind one of the glass cases that also served as a counter with a cash register and a pile of minuscule tools and magnifying glasses. The man was wearing a very fitted suit that hugged his thin frame and almost had a hint of femininity to its lines. The suit was the color of ink bottle green which only served to make the green of his eye stand out upon his porcelain face. The other eye was covered by a jewelers monocle as well as a tuft of blonde fringe that hung down upon his forehead.

“Good afternoon, young lady,” greeted the horologist. He removed his jewelers monocle to reveal, not another eye of green that was so complimented by the color of his suit, but an eye of brown. Victoria was intrigued by his two different colored eyes as well as how smooth and soft his voice had carried over to her from behind the counter.

“Good afternoon, sir,” replied Victoria.

“And what may I help you with?” asked the horologist.

“I saw the astrolabe in the window there, sir, and I would like to inquire about its price,” answered Victoria.

“Ah, yes. Well, that particular piece is... Well, I should say, most likely out of a young girl's range of budget,” commented the horologist.

“Perhaps not, sir. I would very much like to purchase it as a gift for someone very important to me.

Would you please tell me the cost of the item?” Victoria asked again, trying to withhold the contempt she was beginning to feel for the horologist.

“Such a thing is not just a gift for an ordinary parent or some boy you fancy, my dear,” replied the horologist with the most condescending “my dear” that Victoria had ever heard.

“And who are you to decide who is ordinary? And I don't fancy any boys, sir,” Victoria said, trying very hard to mimic, with equal force, the man's condescending tone.

At this comment, the horologist smirked at Victoria and his two different colored eyes twinkled with what may have been approval.

“Mr. Thursday at your service, dear,” the horologist introduced himself.

“Victoria, Victoria Button,” Victoria replied and stepped forward to shake the man's hand.

Mr. Thursday's hands were warm and strong around Victoria's and she noticed that his fingers were long and delicate looking. Victoria supposed that those were just the type of fingers for working with such intricate parts as what went into clocks and such other gadgets.

Mr. Thursday went to the window and removed the astrolabe from its pedestal. He brought it over to the counter and withdrew a piece of velvet fabric from a drawer. He laid the fabric on top of the counter and then set the astrolabe upon it.

“This, my dear, has a greater price than I expect you would have available in that purse of yours,” he said glancing at the little blue bag attached to Victoria's belt. This time, when he said, “my dear” it was soft and genuine.

“Some things in this world cannot be bought with silver and gold. They must be bargained for with deeds or sacrifices. Some things in this world have a magic of their own that cannot be tarnished with the trade of monies or the magic ceases to be,” continued Mr. Thursday.

“I know all about magic, sir,” replied Victoria.

“I'll bet you do,” said Mr. Thursday.

And in that moment Mr. Thursday and Miss Victoria Button regarded each other in a new light. There was an electric silence that seemed to flood the room. In one instant, they were no longer a selective shop owner and an impertinent young girl. They understood one another.

A sensation that was warm as fire ran up Victoria's spine and her heart began to race with rhythmic vigor while Mr. Thursday silently regarded her with his two colored eyes gleaming with the light of what could only be described as that of far off stars wrapped in unfamiliar nebulae of light.

Victoria felt like the cat she had encountered not an hour ago, in the position of having to make an offering before she was to bound off on a great, unknown, adventure.

(The characters, stories, and details included in any and all tales of Victoria Button are copyrighted 2014-2019 by myself, L.A. Vandewart, and all rights are reserved.)