“Certainly. And therein lies the trouble. She blames us, you see, for having her committed. In her mad mind, she is perfectly sane and we are the crazy ones.” She turned away and picked up one of the pictures. “I don’t know why my father keeps this.” She handed it to Claire.
A young woman with dark hair piled high and wearing a tightly corseted gown stood to one side of a Greek pillar. One hand rested on the plinth, while the other held what appeared to be a key. The key of knowledge, one assumed. Indeed, her face was fierce, her eyes dark and intense, as if she were daring the photographer to get on with it; she had work to do. This was the face of a woman who would indeed fly at a man for getting in her way.
“Thank you for showing me.” She handed it back. “So she is allowed visitors?”
“Family only. Who else would want to see what her brains have made of her? And of the rest of us.”
Any empathy Claire might have felt was fast draining away. This woman was not crippled, nor was she lacking in intelligence. She could make her own way if it had not been more rewarding to blame someone else for her misfortunes.
“I appreciate your time.” Claire extended her hand again. “Good afternoon.”
She walked back to the Embankment as fast as she could, thankful for her escape from that narrow house. So Dr. Rosemary Craig was permitted family visitors, was she? Well, it was clear that Claire was not going to get any information from outside sources. Perhaps the poor lady in Bedlam would enjoy a visit from her long-lost cousin from Shropshire.
*
Express Mail
For Immediate Delivery
My dear Claire,
I am this moment in receipt of your tube. We will not discuss the advertisement—I was driven to it by desperation. I wish to speak of happier topics. As you can imagine, since I received Lord James’s letter two weeks ago I have been all aflutter. It was everything I could do not to buy a train ticket and come up to town immediately. Now I know why you have been so reluctant to join me here at Gwynn Place.
You sly minx, prating on about charitable works when all the time you have been indulging in a whirlwind flirtation with Lord James! I must credit your taste, if not your experience.
Let me advise you, dear. Accept only invitations from your closest circle. Due to our circumstances you were not able to make your curtsey to Her Majesty, so that means you must begin your Season with decorum. You may attend the theatre in Lord James’s company, and small dinners, but resist the temptation to be seen at any balls but those of the kind I might have attended with your dear father. Countess Selkirk, the Duchess of Wellesley, Lady Mount-Batting ... these are the best hostesses and are the only invitations you should accept.
I will place the announcement of your engagement in the Times this week. I will also write to Mr. Arundel to see if there is any possibility of a sum to settle upon you. Lord James has been very generous—I have read between the lines and he is quite prepared to take you in nothing but your petticoat—ah, young love!—but there must be something, somewhere, in the accounts. What are we to have a wedding dress made with, else?
Nicholas sends a kiss, and Polgarth the poultryman begs me to advise you that each bird must have eighteen inches of roosting space in the coop. I do not know what this means, but I am dutifully passing it on.
I will let this do. Please write soonest and tell me of your plans. I must have a wedding date to put in the announcement. And do have Lord James bring you down for a visit within the month. I want to get to know him better.
Ever your loving
Mama
*
Claire rolled up the lavender-scented paper and tossed it in the fire burning merrily in the cottage’s hearth. Willie turned big eyes on her and then climbed up the arm of the rickety sofa and into her lap.
“You oughtn’t to waste good paper, Lady,” Lizzie informed her. “Even Willie knows that.”
“It was a letter from my mother, and I did not wish its contents seen.”
“We wouldn’t’ve looked. I could ’ave done another drawing of our walking coop on t’back. An’ it smelled nice, it did.”
“Perhaps Granny Protheroe will teach you how to make lavender water, so that you may have your own.”
Lizzie subsided, mumbling something that Claire chose not to hear.
Cuddling Willie, who with regular meals was beginning to sprout out of his clothes, she raised her voice and spoke to the chemists at the table, the girls before the hearth, and the poker players, who had not yet left for the evening. “Has anyone ever been to Bedlam?”
The room had been lively with chatter, but now it fell silent. “Bedlam, Lady?” Lewis asked. “As in visited, or as in committed?”
“As in visited, silly gumpus. I wish to visit one of the patients there and I should like to know what it’s like beforehand.”
Jake and one of the chemists looked at one another. “Me gran said once that they used t’sell tickets so folk could come and gawk at t’lunatics.”
“Yes, well, they do not do so in this enlightened age,” Claire said crisply.
Jake was not finished. “I been, oncet. And I’m not like to go again. It were hellish, it were.”
“How so, Jake?” She did not like to ask whom he had been visiting, in case it was a sensitive subject.
“People rambling up and down the galleries, some in proper clothes, some in nightclothes—some in nowt at all. People screamin’, beggin’ fer help. It were awful.”
Claire swallowed. “Tigg and I have learned that the scientist who invented the device that powers the lightning rifle is in Bedlam. I wish to speak with her about it.”
Jake shook his head. “You’ll do as you like, o’ course, Lady, but me, I wouldn’t. No device is worth goin’ there again.”
“I’ll go with you,” Tigg said quietly, appearing out of the dark hallway, out of range of the lamps and firelight.
“Not wi’out me,” Snouts said, his nose throwing a vulture-like shadow on the wall behind him. “Mopsies? Ready for a mission?”
Sitting on the rug before the hearth, the girls looked at each other, then back at Claire. They shook their heads as one. “Not we, Lady,” Maggie said. “I’m afraid o’ them lunatics.”
Claire nodded with understanding. “Very well. Snouts and Tigg will accompany me. The scientist’s name is Doctor Rosemary Craig, therefore, I shall be her cousin, Lady Claire Craig, from Shropshire. Snouts and Tigg shall be my secretary and his assistant. Perhaps you might lay hands on a pair of spectacles, Snouts, to complete the illusion.”
“I b’lieve I ’ave some, Lady. Won ’em in a hand of poker not long back. Nice gold rims on ’em.”
“Perfect. We shall go tomorrow.”
Tigg and Snouts nodded, then faded into the dark. They had first watch tonight. Willie’s body had relaxed in her lap, and when she looked down, she saw he had fallen asleep. She carried him upstairs, which meant she didn’t see the Mopsies grab the poker and fish what was left of her mother’s letter out of the grate.
Chapter 8
The sound of the warehouse door closing below brought Andrew out of his fierce concentration on a recent paper on the augmentation of electricks for industrial use. He had not heard the arrival of the landau, nor was that the swish of skirts on the stairs. In any case, Claire would not come so late at night.
It could only be— “Hello, James.”
James Selwyn mounted the last of the stairs into the lamplight and smiled. “Hard at work, I see. I thought you might be.” His gaze touched on the desk, the floor, a cabinet. “Something is different up here.”
“You’re seeing the initial results of Claire’s influence.” Andrew spread his hands to indicate the top of his desk. “I hardly dare leave a piece of paper out in case I get a lecture in the morning.”
“You are her employer,” James said dryly. He went to the table by the window and poured himself a finger of Scotch. “You could tell her to dispense with the lecture.”
; “Ah, but then I would be deprived of the pleasure of it. How did it go at the Midlands Railroad?”
James took a healthy sip before speaking, and grimaced as the liquor went down. “Not so well, I am afraid. They appreciate the possibilities of what we’re doing—in fact, they’re quite enthusiastic about it. But they are not willing to promise to buy one of our devices without having seen it in action.”
He’d told James he was premature, but when had James ever listened when it came to his vision for their partnership? “You can hardly blame them for that. You and I would both do the same.”
“Perhaps. But we need a large railroad to back our efforts and give us legitimacy. Rail men are notorious for presenting a united front, competitive as they might be behind it. If we can crack only one, we’ll have them all.”
“I told you it was too soon. We must have a working prototype before we approach anyone.”
James merely shrugged. “How are the experiments coming? Any progress?”
Andrew had to shake his head. “I have given up on permeating the coal with gases and have turned my attention to augmented electricks. Hence a little research.” He indicated the paper. “Claire seems to think that—”
“Claire? What does she have to do with anything?”
Andrew raised an eyebrow. James was too well bred to interrupt ... usually. But Claire had been the clinker in his coal box ever since the day they’d met. “You know she aspires to be an engineer.”
“I do, to my very great dismay.”
“I have promised to help her get into university in any way I can. And that usually means talking over problems together.” James merely snorted and emptied his glass. “Don’t you have any confidence in her?”
“My confidence or lack of it is irrelevant. The girl was hired to shuffle paper, not offer uninformed opinions on a great work.”
“Her opinions are far from uninformed. She came up with a theory that I feel I must explore, in fact.”
“Ridiculous. Next you’ll be holding her yarn for her while she knits.”
“I don’t believe the lady does knit,” Andrew said coolly. “And I must say I don’t understand your attitude toward her.”
“Yes, you do. I’ve told you before.”
“That you had honorable intentions and now cannot bear to see her in a position of dependence on us—on you?”
“That would sum it up, yes. And the fact that I seem completely powerless to stop her.”
Andrew was not a man who normally pried into his friend’s private life, but this was too much for him. “Why should you want to stop her, James? If she has declined your attentions and yet is a valuable addition to this venture, what has it to do with you any longer?”
James appeared to be struggling with himself. “You’re going to find out anyway,” he muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
He raised his head and lifted his empty glass in a toast. “Congratulate me, Andrew,” he said in a tone that approximated good cheer. “I am going to embrace the proverbial ball and chain in, oh, four years or so.”
Perplexed, Andrew stared at him. “For the love of heaven, James, what on earth are you talking about?”
“Simply this. Much to my astonishment, and without quite knowing how it came about, I have somehow found myself engaged to your laboratory assistant.”
Was James so exhausted that a single finger of whiskey had addled his brain? “I don’t understand you.” Andrew’s lips felt frozen, his tongue barely able to form the words.
“Let me rephrase. This afternoon I believe I proposed to Lady Claire Trevelyan, and I am nearly perfectly certain she accepted.”
Andrew felt his jaw unhinge—and his mind as well. He simply could not make reality and this new information match in any way that was sane.
“Yes, I feel much the same way,” James went on, gaining control of himself now that the revelation was over. “I’m still not sure it is real.”
“It isn’t real. You don’t even like her.” Andrew caught one fact in the whirling morass that was his brain and clung to it. “You’ve never said one good thing about her except that she had nice eyes.”
“She has a spine, Andrew. I admire that about her.”
“I’ve heard you call her pig-headed and lacking in knowledge of her place. Right here in this room, in fact.”
It could not be true. James could not be engaged to Claire. And she of all people would never have accepted him. She could barely stand to be in the same room, for heaven’s sake!
“You must admit she is certainly both those things. But the fact remains, I have written to her mother declaring my intentions, and when I revealed this to Claire, she accepted my proposal.”
“She couldn’t have.” Andrew couldn’t make himself look beyond this. “She plans to become an engineer and—and explore the Amazon. Build airships. Construct bridges in China. Not become a peer’s wife and serve tea to railroad presidents. No, James, you must be joking.”
“I assure you I am not.”
“The Claire I know would never marry you.”
“Is that so?” James’s tone had become dangerously soft. “And how well do you know her after less than a week?”
“I know she has ambitions. I know she cares for those children. I know she would never do this.”
“And is it so bad, being engaged to me?”
Yes, it was. It was the worst thing that had ever happened. Because, Andrew now saw, if it were true, then she had chosen the wrong man.
If Claire Trevelyan was to marry anyone, it should be him.
*
Claire spent the next morning on the filing cabinets immediately behind Andrew’s desk. Since everything that had been on the desk was presumably of current interest to him, it was logical to put it closer to hand. That meant, of course, that the contents of the first cabinet had to go somewhere. For now, she was making orderly piles on the floor.
Andrew had been very distracted earlier, giving her the barest greeting and then removing Tigg to the chamber to continue their experiments. Snouts, who had elected to stay outside and guard the landau, could be heard whistling now and again through the open window. At noon, Claire dusted off her hands and collected both boys for lunch.
“Where is Mr. Malvern?” she inquired of Tigg, pinning on her hat. “I’ve hardly spoken to him today.”
“’E ent speakin’ to anyone much, Lady. In a bit of a temper, ’e is. I left ’im in the back, fabricating another augmentation switch. Dunno as it’ll do us much good, though. Electricks just ent made for this kind o’ work.”
“We shall see if our journey today will not change both his experiments and his temper. Come along.”
After a fortifying lunch at a pub close to Tower Bridge, Claire piloted the landau south to St. George’s Fields. There, she came to a halt outside the forbidding black iron bars of the fence that separated Bethlehem Royal Hospital from the sane world. Across the lawn and circular drive, the central cupola of the enormous institution rose above the fourth floor and into the sky. From somewhere they could hear the sound of birds twittering, and there were a few people pacing the lawn in quiet conversation. Other than that, there was no sound.
“If we go in there, we c’n come out again, right?” Tigg said in a small voice.
“Even lunatics c’n ’ave visitors,” Snouts said. “Buck up, mate.”
A man came to the gate. “Your business?”
Claire raised her chin. “Lady Claire Craig, here to visit my cousin, Dr. Rosemary Craig, if you please.”
“Certainly, milady.” He unlocked the gate and Claire pushed the driving bar forward so that they rolled through. “You’ll want to ask for her doctor in the receiving room, and they’ll arrange to have her brought out.”
“Thank you, sir.” They progressed around the circular drive and came to a halt in front of the steps. Claire descended and removed her driving rig, then tugged her suit jacket into place and made sure her lace jabot was suitabl
y fluffed. Then she noticed Tigg, who had not moved.
“Tigg? Aren’t you coming?”
“Please, Lady,” he whispered. “I can’t do it. I can’t go in there.”
“Come on, Tigg,” Snouts said in bracing tones. “I ent afraid, nor should you be.”
From somewhere deep in the building came an ululating scream. Tigg flinched, and if he could have crept under the landau and laid flat upon the gravel, Claire was sure he would have. “Ent goin’,” he whispered. “You can’t make me.”
“On second thought,” Claire said, looking up at the doors, “I do not feel I should leave the landau unattended. Your logic is sound, Tigg. If you are willing to post a guard, I should be most grateful.”
The boy drew a deep breath. “You c’n count on me, Lady.” He slid out of the back and stood next to the passenger door, pressed against its gleaming surface as though glued there. “I shan’t move from this spot, and no one shall touch this engine.”
“Thank you, Tigg. You have set my mind at rest. Come along, Mr. McTavish. That silk cravat should be tucked into your waistcoat, not lying upon it. And don’t forget to put on your spectacles.”
So far today she had been two people: the Lady of Devices and the studious assistant to Andrew Malvern. Now Claire drew on a third persona—one oddly similar to that of her mother—like a cloak. She straightened her spine and tilted her chin so that she was obliged to look down her nose, and, grasping her skirts in one hand and her pocketbook containing her engineering notebook in the other, she sailed into the receiving room on a cloud of authority.
“I wish to visit my cousin, Dr. Rosemary Craig,” she informed the nurse at the desk in pleasant, plummy tones. “I am Lady Claire Craig, of—of Craigsmoor House in Shropshire, and this is my secretary, Mr. McTavish.”
The nurse looked awed, as though titled ladies did not come visiting so very often. Perhaps they did not. “Certainly, your ladyship. Let me fetch the doctor in charge of her case. In the meantime, perhaps you might care for some refreshment, here, in the sitting room?”
Her Own Devices, a steampunk adventure novel Page 6
