Miss Minnie and the Brass Pluggit (4 page)

“But?”

“But he has trouble making change for a pound when purchasing a fourteen-shilling and sixpence pair of gloves.”

Pierce’s laugh rang out, filling the space between them, and somehow defusing the tension that had arisen. He knew it was indicative of the sexual heat they both felt—he was half-hard, longing to see her without the garments she wore so well, and eager to touch the softness of her skin as she lay beneath his own naked body.

But he was a patient man. He’d known they would become lovers the instant he saw her. It didn’t have to be at this moment, no matter how much he wished it could be. Instead, he guided her down to his laboratory and wondered on the way if she’d have any idea at all of what he was attempting to do.

“Goodness.”

Her eyes widened as he led her into the massive room that comprised a good portion of the center of the lighthouse. He’d taken it over for his own pursuits. One thing about lighthouses—there was always plenty of available space, as long as one didn’t mind either custom ordering curved worktables or having the odd gap here and there.

Pierce had gone with the odd gap. But he had a feeling Minnie wouldn’t notice right away. She was standing in the classic position, frozen in place, head tilted back and eyes wide. She was doing what every other visitor did on a routine basis—stare at the walls above her.

They were ringed with coil after coil of brass tubing, an endless circle of shining metal that went all the way up to the high ceiling. The lower end began in a large brass box-shaped container, and the end—surprisingly—simply went out through the wall.

“I don’t believe this is part of your plumbing system, is it?” Minnie asked the question while staring around her.

“No.” He moved to a tabletop and pointed at a bank of dials. “It’s a magnet. Of sorts.”

“What sort?” She eyed him curiously.

“An electromagnet.”

“Does it produce electricity, or will it pull the hairpins out of my hair?”

He sighed, unsure of how detailed he should be. The truth was, his work had taken him into a realm of physics that was still young. He wasn’t exactly convinced it
could
be explained. Let alone to a layman.

“It’s recently been discovered that electric current, running through a wire, produces a magnetic field. It has the potential to do many things—for example I’ve been able to adapt it to work on the little carriage Dusk used to bring you here.”

“Oh yes. That strip of metal beneath.” She nodded.

“Exactly. The magnetism coming from that strip is powered by this solenoid. It’s sufficient to move a lightweight vehicle with low friction.” He noticed her eyebrows drawing together. “Wheels.”

“Ah. Yes.”

“But it is capable of much more. I’m currently involved in finding out what that might be and how to use it in practical applications.”

“I see.” She sounded thoughtful. “What I don’t see is why or even
if
Roger and his cronies might have an interest. It all sounds very theoretical at present.” Glancing his way, she lifted her eyebrows. “And my instincts tell me your metal strip propulsion system would not be much of a success in London.”

Pleased at her grasp of matters, he nodded. “You are quite right. Magnetism may indeed prove to be a viable option for propulsion, but that day is a long way off. And yes, most of my work at the moment involves taking a theoretical notion and experimenting with it. Most times with little success, I’m afraid.”

“So I don’t have to worry about my hairpins?”

“No.” He stared at her and paused for a second or two. “The rest of your clothes…well, that’s another matter.”

And just like that the tension was back, almost snapping in the air between them like a brief but violent discharge of static electricity.

Where it would have led, he wasn’t quite sure, but before he could find out, Dusk hurried in to the laboratory through a side door, his boots clattering on the stone flooring.

“Sorry, Doctor. My apologies for the interruption.” His white hair flew around his face and the mask, and there was no hiding the fact he was upset. “They’ve found another one.”

“Damn it all to hell.”

Completely forgetting about electromagnetism and Miss Minnie, Pierce rushed to the door behind Dusk. He knew exactly what those words implied and it was bad.
Very
bad.

Another woman’s body had been found in the cold ocean waters near the Brass Pluggit.

This would make
four
.

Minnie was amazed and somewhat disturbed by the actions of the two men. Dusk hadn’t hesitated when it came to bursting in on a private conversation. That, in and of itself, was surprising.

Then there’d been Pierce’s reaction. He’d dashed from the room after his manservant, as if all the devils in Hell were after him, and without a word to her.

Hurrying after them, she realized
she
wasn’t offended at all by their behavior—it was the fact that they hadn’t told her what was going on. That omission seriously irritated her, so she did her best to follow them in order to satisfy her own curiosity.

The small stairway wound down a level to a door leading outside. It was ajar, letting sunlight shine brightly and bringing the tang of sea air into the curved entry. She cautiously stepped outside, squinting a little and endeavoring to find her host.

The breeze gusted sharply, reminding her that she was now on the ocean side of the Brass Pluggit. Light flashed almost painfully from the two greenhouses that nestled a few steps away, perched on the very edge of the cliff. She would have liked to explore them, having a passing interest in plants herself.

But voices sounded below her and she noticed a set of steps leading down, presumably toward the edge of the water. There was a wooden banister, a simple affair but sturdy, which Minnie appreciated, since the steps were hewn into the cliff and not as wide as a more carefully constructed staircase.

Gathering her skirts in one hand and holding on to the smooth wooden rail with the other, Minnie began her descent. She wasn’t afraid of heights, just didn’t care much for them. And the steps were tricky—she’d not have liked to try negotiating them in bad weather. They curved around the natural flow of the cliff and in some places were wide enough to be called a landing.

She noticed distinct patterns in the face of the cliff and realized that perhaps amateur fossil hunters might have used these makeshift landings to pursue their own hobbies and dig out something interesting from the chalk. It was but a passing thought, since she was now over halfway down and could see a knot of people gathered in a very small space beneath her.

A boat had been moored to a convenient rock and in that boat… She gasped and put her hand instinctively over her mouth to stop the sound.

It was a body. A woman’s body. And the poor thing was clearly no longer amongst the living. Her skin was blue white, her eyes cloudy and unfocused—wide open in a silent and deathly stare. She was partially clad in something light, torn in several places and lying damply over her skin.

As Minnie stared, aghast, Pierce leaned over the boat and moved a long lock of blonde hair away from the dead woman’s neck. Once again the breath caught in Minnie’s throat.

A thick band of purple bruising was quite visible on the pale skin.

She must have made some noise because Pierce quickly turned his head, saw her on the bottom step and then tugged a light blanket over the body, hiding her from sight.

He stood and brushed his hands together, his face a blend of anger and sadness. “John, can you sail her around to Yarmouth? Take her to Mr. Edward’s place. Tell him I’ll notify the authorities on the mainland.”

A man nodded, touching his cap. He was obviously a sailor—his complexion and the white beard screamed of years on the sea. He carefully eased himself back into the boat, avoiding the body as he grasped the oars with hands tanned to the color of walnuts. “Aye, I will that, Doctor.”

Pierce helped him away from his mooring as Dusk watched and the other man ran his hands over his face.

“I don’t know about this, Pierce. I don’t know at all.” He turned and caught sight of Minnie standing stunned at the base of the cliff.

“Oh gracious. I’m so sorry. Pierce, I didn’t realize you had a guest.” He moved to her. “I’m Stanley Fotheringay, my dear. A neighbor of Pierce’s.” He nodded over his shoulder. “How terrible that we should meet under these circumstances.”

Pierce moved beside them as Dusk eased past and mounted the steps. “Miss Minnie, forgive me. I should have introduced you, but…” He looked frustrated. “These are trying times.”

“I quite understand.” Minnie tilted her head toward the newcomer. “Mr. Fotheringay. It’s delightful to meet you and I too wish it could have been at a happier moment. I was simply paying a call on Dr. Lowell at the request of a mutual friend. In fact, I should be leaving very shortly. It appears you have a serious problem to deal with.” Her gaze drifted to the rowboat, now some distance away and heading around the coastline toward Yarmouth. “Poor woman.”

“Indeed.” Fotheringay began to fuss around her. “Come, my dear. This is no place for a lovely lady. You should be enjoying the sunshine and the sea air, not worrying about a sad event.” He took her arm and escorted her up the steps to the top of the cliff, chattering incessantly about nothing in particular.

“There we are. Much better to be up here, don’t you think?” He patted her hand and beamed.

Amused, she thanked him politely. “It is quite lovely.”

“Indeed it is. I live about a mile down that way.” He pointed over her shoulder, farther along the coastline to the southwest. “You must come and visit me if you have time during your stay, my dear. How long did you say you’d be here?”

She smiled, used to such questions and not at all worried about deflecting them. “My schedule is flexible at the moment, so I haven’t really decided when I’ll be going back to London.”

“Well, well then.” He tutted and patted her hand once more before dropping it with a gentle squeeze. “Just come and say hello whenever you wish. I’m always happy to welcome visitors, eh, Pierce?” He smiled and gave a soft giggle. “I’m trying to explain the principle of hospitality to Pierce here. Up until now I’ve had little luck, but after seeing you…well, perhaps my lectures are working after all.”

“Goodbye, Stanley.” Pierce was not amused, apparently.

“I can take a hint, old chap. Don’t blame you either. Lovely lady, sunny day, blue sky…well, I mean it’s all here, isn’t it?” He spread his arms wide. “And I’ll let you both enjoy it.”

With a coy wave of his fingers, he left them standing side by side and staring after him, the sound of his merry whistling traveling back to them on the breeze.

“He seems quite charming.” Minnie spoke cautiously, unsure of how to handle Pierce in his present mood.

“He’s an interfering old busybody with a good heart.”

“Ah.”

“You should leave, Miss Minnie.” Pierce ran his hand through his hair and blew out an exasperated breath of air. “This development will take up my time. To be blunt, I’ll have no interest in polite social conversation for a while.”

She turned and looked at him, noting the flash of vivid green as the sun hit his irises. She saw the concern and what could have been banked fury in their depths. Yes, she should leave.

But she simply couldn’t. Not until she knew more about the situation.

“You’re correct in your statement about my leaving, but incorrect in your assumption I’ll actually do it.” She held up a hand to forestall his argument. “Dusk said, and I quote, ‘
they’ve found another one.’
” She paused for a moment. “How many have there been?”

He sighed. “This one makes four.”

Minnie swallowed down her shock. “In that case, I’m certainly not leaving. I want to help.”

“How?”

“Let’s find out.” She spun on her heel and marched back into the Brass Pluggit.

He found himself almost chuckling as Minnie strode ahead of him, taking the stairs in a hurry and climbing rapidly toward his living room. She ripped her hat from her head, tossing it onto a table as she entered the room, following it with her gloves and then rapidly undoing the buttons of her jacket.

“Do you have a telegraph?” She fired the question at him as she pushed a wayward hairpin back into the mess of tousled and shining silk on her head.

“I have something better.” He led her across to a tall cabinet and slid the doors open, revealing the mass of dials and lights.

Her eyes shone and she rubbed her hands together. “Oh marvelous. A Mark IV telegraph console. I’ve heard about them but never seen one.” She ran her fingertips over it in delight.

“Um. Yes.” Pierce didn’t know what to make of her. An infamous London denizen, a woman who lived amongst the highest members of the aristocracy, and here she was, standing with a look of fascinated joy on her face as she stared at one of his devices.

Sometimes, the world astonished even him.

“All right, which one is London?” She tapped her foot impatiently. “And where exactly does it terminate? Do you have one that links to anywhere in Fleet Street? I know a couple of journalists who might be able to help.”