Outcasts by Sarah Stegall

face. “See here, where a fellow in Milan claims that all this un-summer-like weather—cold, storms, all of it—is the consequence of introducing Franklin’s lightning rods into Europe! Can you imagine a thing so absurd!”
    Polidori shrugged. “But it makes sense to me, Mr. Shelley. If I put up a lightning rod, am I not inviting lightning? Why be surprised if we experience more of it?”
    â€œHah. I perceive that you are unfamiliar with the works of Dr. Franklin. He actually discerned that the inclement summer of 1783 was caused by a volcanic eruption in Japan! It was not lightning that brought storms, nor the lightning rods that brought the lightning! The dust from the eruption entered the air and shielded us from the sun’s rays.”
    Polidori shook his head. “I do not wish to be impolite, but surely that is nonsense! How could a volcano in Japan affect weather in Boston?”
    â€œIt would have been in Philadelphia, actually. But do you not see the majesty of it? The magnificence of it? Byron, surely you can see how stupendous an idea it is, that Nature erupts on one side of the world and causes rain on the other side!”
    Byron shrugged and picked up a poker to jab at the fire. “I am not so enamored of Dame Nature as to assert that she works so subtly. Come, we must have a game of whist or chess.”
    But Shelley threw down the paper and strode up and down the room, his gaze on his feet and his hands in his hair. “I have it! Byron, it is splendid! We can use this very storm to disprove this Milano! Let us set up the Leyden jar and draw down some of the electrical fluid! It will show that Franklin’s rods are not the cause of all this intemperance.”
    Polidori looked alarmed. “What? There is no electricity in lightning! Lightning is fire, not an electrical fluid.”
    â€œNo, doctor, it is surely formed from the same substance as the etheric upper atmosphere,” Shelley said. “My teachers, mybooks, they agree that the etheric fluid is surely converted by some subtle means into electrical fluid. I have myself felt it!”
    Polidori and Byron both looked at him. “You have felt it?” Byron sounded curious.
    â€œOh, yes,” Shelley said. He stopped in front of Byron, his hands waving wildly. “When I was at Oxford, I used to conduct electrical researches. There is one device—I can build it again in no time!—whereby a wheel is turned, and electrical fluid is generated out of thin air! And by touching a rod, it may be conveyed to the person. I have used it to thrill my sisters, and on one occasion made my sister’s long hair rise up into the air!”
    Claire giggled. “Like the time in London when we went out in the thunderstorm, do you remember? And your hair was standing out around your head like a halo! I called you Saint Shelley!”
    â€œYes, of course,” Shelley said excitedly.
    â€œAnd a saint you will surely be, or at least the first martyr to science,” Byron said. “You cannot be serious, Shiloh! I will not have you struck dead on my very lawn!”
    â€œNothing of the kind. I have worked with these substances many times. Come, Polidori! Surely, as a man of science, you will help me in this! Let us read the heavens in their own light!”
    Polidori drew back. “I have … I have seen men who were killed by lightning. In Edinburgh, at my medical studies. I would not see that again.”
    Mary rose to her feet, her embroidery falling to the floor. “Shelley, no!”
    Shelley looked from one to another. “None of you are wise enough, or brave enough, to look your Dame Nature in the face?”
    â€œI will,” said Claire. “I know where the Leyden jar is. I will send Fletcher for it.” Without waiting for an answer, she darted out of the room.

Chapter X - The Storm
    I eagerly inquired of my father the nature and origin of thunder and lightning. He