Her Own Devices (22 page)

“About ’is ni—er, ’is lordship. Beggin’ yer pardon, but they don’t like ’im.”

“I know. At the moment, I don’t like him very much, either.”

“’E’s leavin’ you behind in this venture. But what I don’t get is why you or at least Mr. Malvern don’t fix it.”

“I don’t believe Mr. Malvern is aware of it. Or if he is, he believes I am going along with it and will not speak up out of delicacy.”

“Why
are
you goin’ along wiv it, Lady?”

There was the crux of the matter. “I want my name on that patent, Tigg. I must play my part in this charade until that happens.”

“And then what? You give ’is nibs the air?”

Not for worlds would she reveal her inmost thoughts. Not that Tigg would talk, but it was not easy to look at herself and realize that she had let herself in for the whole thing. If she had not been swayed by the idiotic thought of being the first of her set to be engaged, of being the one sought after for a change instead of pitied, then she would not be in such an awkward, uncomfortable, maddening position now.

She had lost sight of herself in the vision of how others saw her, and now she had to pay the price.

“A lady does not give anyone the air, Tigg. She acknowledges the honor of his proposal and declines it with grace.”

“But you’re going to, aye? Decline with grace? Coz I’ll say this, I don’t think ’is lordship is going to take kindly to our continued association, if you get my meaning.”

“I made a promise to you all, and I shall keep it.”

“’Ow? Wot if ’e turns us all out?”

“He will not.”

“If yer ’is wife, Lady, you’ll ’ave to do as ’e says. And if ’e says to turf the lot of us, then there ent much you could do to stop it.”

“It will not come to that, Tigg.”

But perhaps it would. If she felt oppressed and imprisoned as his fiancee, how would she manage when she was his wife, and all her worldly goods belonged to him, including her very person?

Girls from families like hers had been born and bred for such an eventuality. But girls from families like hers did not end up as leaders of South Bank gangs. And once one had had a taste of respect and authority, it was downright difficult to give it up.

“No, it shall not come to that,” she murmured. She hadn’t meant for Tigg to hear, but his ears were sharp. He sat back and concentrated on the view rushing past the window at fifty miles per hour, and said no more.

When they reached London, nothing would do but that Mr. Stephenson should go immediately to the laboratory. Claire had thought he might go to an hotel, or at the very least, to James’s club, but no-ho. His impatience to see the chamber in action brought them all to Orpington Close in a hansom cab.

Since she was not permitted to be of use, like Tigg, she repaired to the office above to wait until they were finished. She stripped off her gloves and laid her hat on the desk, then walked over to check the mail repository.

Several tubes lay within. One after the other, she sorted them—invoices, a note from Andrew’s mother reminding him of a family birthday party, a letter from the Royal Society giving particulars of the submission process for the new exhibit.

That she read with interest, making mental notes on which points she might best assist.

The last tube contained a piece of hotel stationery, and had been forwarded from Greenwich, whence came all the international mail into the country.

Dear Claire,

Our voyage over the Atlantic was every bit as exciting and interesting as you could imagine. There are fifty passengers, plus the crew, and though accommodations are rather tight, what could be lovelier than waking to a view of nothing but sky of a morning? I’m half tempted to sign up as crew myself, though what I would do is a mystery. There are no decks to swab; however, I could do a passable job at polishing brass, of which there is an abundance.

But enough of my nonsense.

I am bidden to convey the greetings of a friend of yours—Dr. Rosemary Craig, who sails with us. She and my mother have become great cronies, and in fact, since her plans were quite nebulous—oh, to be so free that you could take ship for nowhere in particular!—we have invited her to come along to the Canadas with our party. San Francisco will be there whenever she gets to it, but an adventure in the diamond mines with my esteemed mother is not to be missed.

If you are of a mind to write to her, you may use our address at the hotel in Edmonton. Such fun!

I trust you are well and happy. I am still waiting for the end of that sentence. I find myself fascinated by all the possibilities.

New York is calling. I do wish you were here—we could have made this town our own.

Warmly, I remain

Your friend,

Peony Churchill

Claire folded up the letter and tucked it in her reticule. What a relief to know that Dr. Craig had made a clean escape—and whether or not Isabel Churchill knew of her history, her future as a crony of that lady was certain to be spectacular.

At the conclusion of the day she declined to have dinner with James, Andrew, and Mr. Stephenson, and declined as well the offer of the cab. In this, at least, she could exercise her independence.

She’d come to a pretty pass when taking the Underground was an act of rebellion. But in the doing of it, she firmed her resolve. She would not marry James under any circumstances, even if it meant going into hiding even deeper than she already was until her eighteenth birthday. She would see her name safely on that patent, secure the letter of recommendation from Andrew, and move on with her life as a university student and governess to the children.

Mentally, she waved farewell to Lady Selwyn, Baroness, that fictional being who had never had any more substance than smoke.

She had never really liked her anyway.

*

Andrew heard Claire and Tigg arrive the next day for their morning’s work. When they saw that the laboratory was empty, they climbed the stairs to find him up to his elbows in paper from the Patent Office.

“Where are Lord James and Mr. Stephenson?” Tigg asked, tying his leather apron around his waist as if he expected to begin disassembly of the device that moment. “Didn’t they say the chamber was to be packed up and ready to move?”

“They did, and it will be.” Andrew picked up a sketch and numbered it. “They’ve gone to the Crystal Palace this morning to enter it as an exhibit. They’re calling it the Selwyn Kinetick Carbonator. Once Ross Stephenson gets a bee in his bonnet, there’s no stopping him. I can’t see them turning him down, either. Between James’s influence in Parliament and Ross’s importance in industry, it’s a given.”

“And what about the patent?” Claire looked pale and a little drawn, as if she had not slept very well. But a gentleman would never let such an observation cross his lips.

Andrew indicated the pile of drawings and forms that covered the desk. “They left that to me. A patent application must sponsored by a member of the Royal Society of Engineers. At least in that I can be useful.”

“I know what you mean,” Claire said. She unwound a length of gauzy fabric from around her hat. “I have never felt more like a mantel scarf than I have this past few days. Entirely decorative, prone to gathering unwanted objects, and of no earthly use whatsoever.”

He gazed at her, puzzled. “But James said you preferred the company of Lady Elizabeth. Something about missing adult female companionship.”

“Bullfeathers,” Claire snapped, surprising him with the barely contained force of the outburst. “The unpalatable truth is that Ross Stephenson believes women are mantel scarves. James would not allow me even to join your discussions, much less inform Mr. Stephenson that I had invented the movable truss.”

Aghast, Andrew put the pen down, where it proceeded to ooze a blob of ink on a sketch of the control levers. “But that is criminal. Why did you not tell me?”

“Because ’is nibs said ’e wouldn’t put ’er name on the patent if she didn’t keep mum,” Tigg said, gracelessly putting his oar into the conversational waters.

Claire rounded on him. “Tigg! That is a confidence between his lordship and me, and none of your business.” She narrowed her gaze at him. “And how did you hear of it, pray?”

“The nursery is straight above that little room you were talkin’ in, Lady. I can’t help it if voices come up the stove pipe, clear as day, if you just open the stove door.”

“Good heavens.” She struggled for control—perhaps of her language, certainly of her temper. “You have succeeded in humiliating me in front of Mr. Malvern, Tigg. Thank you very much.”

Tigg’s face fell in lines of distress. “I didn’t mean to, Lady,” he said, his lower lip beginning to wobble. Perhaps, Andrew thought, she had never spoken to him sharply before—and she had not realized that her good opinion was so important to him that the loss of it would reduce him to tears. “I just wanted Mr. M-Malvern to ’ave the t-truth.”

She crossed the room to take him in her arms, leather apron and all. “It’s all right, Tigg,” she said gently. “Of course you did, and it was honorable of you to want to set the record to rights. But you must remember that information gained by eavesdropping must be kept confidential. It can be too hurtful otherwise.”

“Y-yes, Lady.” He sniffled into her shoulder, and she fished her handkerchief out of her white voile sleeve. He blew his nose and mopped his face, and offered the scrap of cambric back to her.

“Keep it, dear.” She turned back to Andrew. “Well, now that you have the truth, I—”

“I cannot believe this of James.” He felt so dazed that he interrupted her without thinking. “To use the patent as the condition of your effacing yourself? That does not seem like him—or like a gentleman, for that matter.”

“As you can see, I have a witness,” Claire said dryly.

Now it was Andrew’s turn to voice his distress. “I didn’t mean I distrusted your word. I meant that I thought I knew him better than this. I mean to say, putting the business first is one thing, if we must stay on Ross Stephenson’s good side. But to require such a thing of his own fiancee ...” Andrew gathered his wits with an effort. “Well. We can only do what we can do, and since I am the one filling out this application, Claire’s name will go where it belongs. While I am doing that, Tigg, you are quite correct. You should start disassembling the chamber and get it ready to be hauled out to the Crystal Palace. I sent a tube to a packing company first thing this morning, so we should expect a delivery of crates and straw at any time.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have laid out a rough schematic of which sections should be crated together. You will find it on the workbench.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tigg?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I am including you on this application in an adjunct capacity. But I cannot very well put
Tigg
in all its expressive simplicity. What is your full name?”

Tigg’s eyes and mouth formed a trio of Os. “My name, sir?” he said at last. “On the patent? For true?”

“Yes, for true. What should I write down?”

“I ’ardly know, sir. I ’aven’t used it since I was a little shaver.” Andrew waited. Then, with a gulp, Tigg finally said, “Tom Terwilliger, sir.”

“That’s quite a handle,” Claire said with a perfectly straight face.

“None of me mates could manage it, so they shortened it up for everyday.”

“Thank you, Tigg.” Andrew wrote
Thomas Terwilliger
in the blank. “Two Ls?”

“Dunno, sir.”

“You have two Ls now. Thank you. I shall be down to help you in just a moment.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy clattered down the stairs and, moments later, they heard the sounds of clanking metal and glass as he got to work.

The moment they were alone, Andrew laid down his pen and stood, coming round the desk. He was still reeling from the knowledge that his partner, nobly born and up until now as honorable as the day was long, could stoop to blackmailing the woman he was supposed to marry.

“Do not,” Claire said, her voice tight, as she held up a hand to ward him off. “Do not speak of it. It is bad enough that you know.”

“You should have told me.”

“To what end? So that you could think me spineless sooner rather than later?”

“I don’t think you’re spineless. Quite the opposite. It is James who has shocked me. Claire, if a man can treat you so abominably, what else is he capable of? I mean to say, once one has stooped to blackmail, what comes next?”

She turned away. “That is an ugly word. We merely came to the terms of an agreement.”

“Unacceptable terms, agreed to under duress, if your face is any indication.”

“My face is my business,” she said. “All that matters is my name on that patent, and your letter of recommendation.”

“Speaking of that, it’s right here. With all the racketing around the country, this is the first chance I’ve had to give it to you.”

He pulled the two closely written pages out of the top drawer of the desk, the second one with his Society seal already affixed.

She read them, and color rose in her face. Her features softened, and if he had not been under her spell before, he certainly would have fallen head over heels now. It was all he could do not to pull James’s intended wife into his arms.

Surely she would not go through with the engagement, once the patent was secured? Surely she could not face life at the side of a man who would treat her as less than she was?

She looked up, her gray eyes swimming with tears she was too proud to shed. “Thank you,” she said hoarsely. “I had not expected—that is, you are much too generous—”

“I hardly touched on the half,” he said gently. “The university here should be glad you are even considering them, when you could go to Edinburgh or the Sorbonne and have them welcome you with open arms.”

He realized a moment too late that he had illustrated his point with his own open arms. His body had gone where his mind had forbidden it, and now he looked like an utter fool.

He cleared his throat and got himself safely back in his chair again, the width and bulk of the desk between them. “You will be a great success, Claire,” he said, striving for a hearty, brotherly tone. “Lady Selwyn will be the most brilliant woman in London.”