Being in England is kind of weird. But good weird. Mira's never actually been out of the country before, but when Dad had an alumnus thing at Oxford he offered to bring her with him, and she said yes.
It's both more and less different from the States than she was imagining.
The Queen frowns.
"This seems rather circular, although I am certain there must be a way to begin the process, if your world managed it."
"And how does one go about using these to generate electricity?"
Her patient tone is beginning to wear a little thin at the edges.
"Remember there is no shame in admitting ignorance, dear; I would rather that than have my time wasted with half-explanations."
"Right. So, remember what I said about current around metal making it a magnet? It works the other way, too. If you have a magnet, wrapping it in a coil of wire and then turning the magnet fast enough generates electricity." She starts drawing another diagram. "Most electricity is generated by having a spooling plane around a magnet like so, and then boiling water--by burning things or through other methods--and then the steam pushes the magnet to turn like so. You can also turn the magnet with wind power, much like a windmill, or with water. It's also possible to draw a little electricity from chemicals in--potatoes and lemons? But that's much weaker."
"Fascinating."
She reaches for more paper, and starts asking questions about the diagram.
Mira can answer most of the questions! Those she cannot, she will admit to and not dissemble.
After a while, Mira might notice that she is getting rather hungry.
A servant timidly knocks on the door, and suggests that perhaps it might be dinner time.
"Oh, how silly of me," the Queen says, with a laugh.
"We shall have to return to our discussion later, dear. For now, let us rejoin the court for dinner."
Stacking her papers neatly, she rises from her seat and gestures for Mira to walk with her.
Indeed.
Passing through more hallways - the same decorator seems to have been allowed free rein over the entire palace - they enter a large, warmly-lit room with a long table down the centre. Standing behind most of the chairs are the courtiers Mira saw earlier in the throne room, clearly waiting for them.
Marcella takes her place at the head, and invites Mira to sit at her left. Everyone else sits down as soon as the Queen has.
They range from relieved through bored to disgruntled. Listening to the conversation will make it clear that the cause of their disgruntlement is that dinner was delayed.
One rather portly gentleman two seats away from Mira is loudly and passionately insisting that he was in danger of dying of starvation. In the course of his spirited argument with the person opposite, one wildly gesticulating hand brushes Mira's shoulder, tangling in her hair for a second before he pulls away.
There's a bit of paper caught in it. The white doesn't show up terribly well against her hair, so no-one else has noticed, but it's obvious to the touch.
Lord Grosvenor - which is, apparently, the name of the large gentleman - goes right on arguing cheerfully with his dinner companions as if nothing happened.
--Hm.
She discreetly detangles it from her hair and slips it into her sleeve so it won't fall out without her noticing.
Dinner proceeds through a series of delicious courses. Lord Grosvenor eats an astonishing quantity of every single one. Fortunately, the cooks seem to be accustomed to this habit, and there is plenty left for everyone else.
A few people are interested in Mira and ask carefully polite questions about her life, under the watchful eye of their Queen.
Marcella listens, although she mostly gives the appearance of paying more attention to her food.
Eventually, when even Lord Grosvenor proclaims himself satisfied by the fare, dinner ends. The Queen rises from her seat, everyone else hastily following suit.
The court disperses. Marcella excuses herself to freshen up, with a hint that Mira might like to do the same.
The servants will show her to a bathroom if she asks.
She is shown to a bathroom tiled in gleaming white marble.
There are almost certainly guards outside the door, but she is - however briefly - alone.
The note, which seems to have been written rather hastily judging by the handwriting, reads as follows:
I apologise for the subterfuge, but it seemed urgent to speak with you as soon as possible.
Meet me in the Green Drawing Room after dinner. Do not tell the Queen!
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