Lady of Devices

chapter 27



If she held onto her hat, Claire could tilt her head wa-a-ay back and take in the topmost panes of the immense Crystal Palace. Beside her, Lizzie did the same, lost her balance, and staggered backward into Tigg’s arms.

“Steady on,” he said, setting her on her feet. “Don’t want to tumble into any of these engines.”

“’Ow tall is it?” Claire had never seen the girl so awestruck. “Does it touch the clouds?”

“It might if it were raining.” Claire consulted the guidebook. “It says here the top of that rounded roof is one hundred and eight feet. So if you took seven houses like ours and stacked them one on top of each other, you’d just be able to climb up and touch the glass.”

“I ent climbin’ up any such for all the tea in China.”

“I’m very glad to hear it. Shall we go look at the steam engines?”

Making their way through the crowds of people, it took some time to get to the exhibit hall. Half the spectators were looking at the exhibits and the other half were gazing up and down the long vistas of glass, holding their hats as Claire had done. While Willie and Tigg examined a small engine meant to pull wagonloads of coal or tin, Claire stood next to an enormous steam locomotive and gazed at it with as much awe as Lizzie had the glassed-over sky.

How was it possible that such power and intricacy could be so beautiful? And how was she going to gain admission to the university so that she too could one day create something as huge and inspiring as this?

“I see our interests coincide once more,” said a male voice beside her.

If he had left off the last two words, Claire would have cut the man dead for his impertinence and moved away to collect the children. As it was, she blinked up at him from under her impractical but very pretty hat brim.

Of all people ... ! “Mr. Malvern.”

“I must confess how happy I am to see you. Did you get my card?”

Concerned. “I did. What did you mean by it, sir?”

He hesitated, evidently expecting her to swoon like the schoolgirl his partner believed her to be. “Simply that I was worried about you. The papers were full of the Belgravia riots. When I could get no news of you, I went to the house. I left a message with the dustman.”

Ah. Mystery solved.

Goodness. He traveled all the way from his laboratory to Belgravia simply to see if she was safe? How kind. And how very singular. “You have no need to worry. I am quite well.”

“I see that.”

Tigg drifted to her side and Claire resisted the urge to smile at his protectiveness.

Andrew Malvern tensed under his conservatively cut suit. “I say. Not so close to the lady, if you please.”

Claire laid a hand on Tigg’s arm before he did something foolish, like attempt fisticuffs. “It’s quite all right. Mr. Tigg is with me, as are the three children examining that engine behind you.”

“With you?” Mr. Malvern’s gaze went from the Mopsies and Willie in their clothes fit for a queen’s grandchildren, to Tigg, who had not consented to dress for the occasion, in his ragged pants and jacket fit for the dustbin. “Is that so? Are you looking after the children of a friend, perhaps?”

“I am their governess, sir.” Though there was nothing wrong with her gloves, she tugged at them with brisk movements. “Mr. Tigg’s experience is with carriages and horses. I am giving him instruction in the operation of the landau, since he aspires to be a chauffeur. Thus, he has come with us to see the engines.”

Tigg, who did not even break a smile during these outrageous falsehoods, tilted his chin as if to say See? I’ve as much right to be here as you. The entrance fee had been set low on purpose, so that they were surrounded by people of all classes, from washerwomen to lords, from Wits to Bloods.

“Ah.” Mr. Malvern offered her his arm. “Then may I be of use to your party? Steam locomotives, you might recall, are a particular interest of mine.”

For the span of two seconds, Claire hesitated. The memory of the disdain in James Selwyn’s eyes flared, and then she squelched it. Lord James was not here. Andrew Malvern, who had never shown her anything but kindness—concern, even—was.

And he could tell her and the children about engines. Perhaps he even knew something of electrick cells.

She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Thank you, Mr. Malvern, that would be most kind. Elizabeth, Margaret, Willie ... come along. This is Mr. Malvern, with the Royal Society of Engineers. He is going to tell us all about this magnificent locomotive.”

Since the girls had received strict instructions that there was to be no picking of pockets, they became bored by the time the little party had walked the length of the engine. Receiving permission to go to the ice-skating rink, they ran off while Tigg, Willie, and Claire drank in every word.

“You remember the experiment I was conducting the day we met, Lady Cl—“

“Yes, I do, certainly,” she said swiftly, before he used her name. “Have you had further success?”

With a sigh, he stopped, as if contemplating the row of four enormous iron wheels with their gleaming brass rods. “I wish I could say I had any success. But I cannot. I am stymied.”

“Perhaps you might ask for help?”

“James isn’t an engineer. He’s the brains of the outfit, as they say in the Wild West, but it is I who put his ideas into motion. At the moment, however, I am making no progress at all.” He looked at her sidelong from under the brim of his bowler. “What a pity you have found employment. The position is still unfilled, you know.”

How could this be? “But surely any number of candidates will have jumped at it.”

“Some. But having found the perfect candidate, I’m having difficulty settling for second best.”

His gaze did not leave her face, and Claire’s cheeks heated in a most disconcerting manner. “I—I—Mr. Tigg, what do you make of the position of the wheels under the boiler there?”

Startled, Tigg gaped at her. “Lady?”

“I mean, perhaps we might continue our tour with an exploration of electrick cells. Do you know anything of them, Mr. Malvern?”

While she pulled Willie away from his open-mouthed contemplation of the engine’s headlamp, set high above, she attempted to regain her composure. Goodness. Mr. Malvern could not be serious. Surely, with all the bright minds circulating in London like fireflies, he could find someone to assist him who was at least as qualified as she, if not more so? Surely he was not holding the position open in case she changed her mind?

And surely she was not even now contemplating doing so?

No, no, no. Eventually she must put those foolish dreams away. Even if she could leave the river cottage every day and drive to the laboratory, she could never tell him where she was living. And with whom. The fact was, she had painted herself into a corner with that confabulation of a story. How could a governess absent herself from her charges for hours each day? Even if she said she had left the position, there could very well be occasions when she would need to bring one or another of the children with her. There was their education to consider, after all, and what better place to conduct experiments than in a real laboratory?

Oh, no indeed. Because stories aside, what would Mr. Andrew Malvern think of a woman who made her home with cutpurses and gamblers, and who had actually slept in the rough and eaten stolen food? He would never employ such a woman if he knew that, much less ... much less hold her in esteem.

Concern.

No. He would not squander his concern on a woman with a past, nor would she ask him to. She would enjoy his company for one brief hour and never see him again.

A stout resolution, to be sure.

What a pity the thought of keeping it made her sick to her stomach.



* * *



On the other side of the Palace, their little party found an entire hall dedicated to the wonders of electrick power. “I read in the Standard that at night, this hall is illuminated by electricks running along channels in the ironwork structure,” Andrew said. “They say it looks like a frozen lightning storm, and that you can read the paper by its light.”

The young ruffian Claire had called Tigg looked doubtful. “How’s that?”

Andrew pointed to the unobtrusive housings mounted next to every other support pillar, concealed by potted palms. “See those small engines there? The cells within generate the current. It’s tempting to come back later, isn’t it, just to see it all working.”

The hint could not be any broader, but Claire only looked away. “I’m afraid the children must be at home by teatime,” she said.

“Aye, some of us ’as to work,” muttered Tigg.

Claire looked at him in some alarm, which seemed puzzling under the circumstances. “He means in the mews.”

“Of course.” Andrew could not imagine what else he might have meant.

“Mr. Malvern, perhaps we might look more closely at the small electrick cells. I am conducting a series of experiments at present and I am interested in increasing power while constraining size.”

“You and every other inventor in that field.” Andrew smiled, and was rewarded with a smile in return that actually reached those anxious gray eyes. “Why don’t we start with the mother’s helper? It’s probably the most familiar to you.”

“I want to see the ones on guns,” Tigg said bluntly. “House things ent going to help us.”

“Knowledge of firearms wouldn’t help someone who plans to be a chauffeur, I wouldn’t think,” Andrew told him in what he hoped were quelling tones. Young upstart. If he hadn’t been in Claire’s company, he’d have been tempted to cuff the pup. By his age he should have learned to speak to his betters with more respect.

Tigg seemed to be swelling up with some kind of outburst, and again Claire laid a hand on his arm. “Mr. Tigg has a particular reason for his interest,” she said. “And I should be glad to expand my knowledge in that area, as well. However, let us begin, as you said, with the mother’s helper, and then branch off into uncharted territory once we are familiar with the basics.”

Unlike similar exhibits in the British Museum, the ones in the Crystal Palace were meant to be examined and explored. His Majesty King Albert was keen that the technologies invented by British minds should be admired by all. Andrew was able to disassemble the mother’s helper and spend an agreeable few minutes bent over it with Claire, whose own mind was so quick to grasp its principles that he suspected he was being led down the garden path.

“You’ve already done this, haven’t you?” he finally said, as she took the loaf-shaped brass housing from his hands and snapped it into place. “You’ve taken one apart already and could probably tell me how it works.”

“With statick repulsion,” Tigg said.

“Very good, Mr. Tigg,” she told him, and he straightened under her approval. Then to Andrew, she said, “I confess that I have, but my companions have not. I want Tigg and young Willie here to know as much as possible. They have ... fallen somewhat behind in their educations.”

As the little boy couldn’t be more than five, Andrew wondered at this, but he wouldn’t contradict her for the world. “Very well, then, let us proceed to larger cells. I believe we’ll find a fine example of a Winchester electrick handgun in the hall of invention for the American Territories.”

Unfortunately they were not permitted to handle the Winchester piece, but a gentleman with an appalling accent and snakeskin boots was happy to show them how it worked. “This here cell replaces the old-fashioned magazine, see, where bullets used to go.” He tilted it out, and Claire and Tigg craned to see the small transparent globe better. “The copper tubing runs from the cell to the barrel to protect the mechanism, see, otherwise the whole shebang would melt.”

Claire’s eyebrows rose. “And the copper itself does not melt?”

“No, ma’am. Copper’s a conductor. So when you pull the trigger, it sets the current free, in a manner of speakin’, and it travels down the barrel and out to your target.”

“What’s the range?” Tigg asked.

“That’s a good question, pardner. Depends on the size of your cell. This here model, why, she’ll zap a fly off the back of a horse from fifty feet.”

Tigg’s eyes widened as he contemplated this picture in his imagination, and Andrew smothered a smile.

“And what of a cell about this size?” Claire curved her hands one on top of the other, as though she were cradling a rubber ball. “What range would it have if the barrel of the piece were about three feet?”

“Ah, now you’re talking rifles, which are a whole other animal. A cell that size paired with a barrel that long, why, it could take that same fly off my hypothetical horse from the end of this here exhibit hall.” He pointed to the exit doors. “It’s the barrel, don’t you know. The bolt gets going in there and nothing can stop it. I hope you ain’t planning to heft one of those, young lady. Purty little thing like you could get herself hurt.”

Claire gave the Territorial a winning smile. “Of course not, sir. I’m merely seeking instruction for my young charges. Now, could I impose upon you to explain a little further how exactly the bolt is created within the cell?”

By the end of the half-hour, the American exhibitor had somehow been convinced to disassemble the Winchester and tell them about it in such detail that most people’s eyes would have glazed over. But Claire Trevelyan was not most people, and neither were her companions. Andrew expected the kind of incisive questioning that Claire gave the man, but the mind of young Tigg surprised him. It was clear that a career as a chauffeur was the best he could do, considering his station—but what a waste of a fine brain. He would no doubt be the kind of driver who would while away his off days taking apart the engines and landaus of his employers and putting them back together again, just to relieve his boredom.

Claire finished her impromptu engineering class by reciting, along with Tigg, the parts that comprised the power cell, and the order in which they were assembled. From memory.

Concealing his amazement, Andrew waited as Claire thanked the gentleman for his kindness. They walked slowly down the length of the exhibit hall, stopping from time to time to examine the electrick cells on a pair of pistols, an icebox, and even on a serving trolley.

“I wonder.” She halted, idly watching the trolley as it trundled from one end of a mocked-up parlor to the other.

“What’s that, Lady?” Tigg’s gaze followed the trolley as well.

“How big a cell do you suppose it would take to power a landau, Tigg?”

Andrew stopped himself from laughing aloud just in time. Not only would she never forgive him, but it would show disrespect in front of her students. Having been in the position of instructor before, he knew how important respect was.

“A right fair size, Lady,” the boy answered. “Size of a mother’s helper, for sure.”

“At least.” Her tone was thoughtful, as he imagined her brain turning over and over under that heap of russet hair and that ridiculous hat. Andrew wished she would share her thought processes with him, outlandish though it might be. Were they well enough acquainted that he could inquire? If only to advise her of the impossibility of such a scheme—anything bigger than household appliances had to be powered by steam. Everyone knew that.

“Hm. Yes?” She looked down as Willie tugged urgently on her skirt.

Tigg took his other hand. “Looks like ’e ’as to take a leak, Lady. Come to mention it, I do too.”

This time Andrew did laugh out loud as Claire turned scarlet and clapped a hand to her mouth. “Mr. Tigg, I—really, I insist that you not—that you—oh, dear.”

Andrew stepped into the breach. “Would you allow me to take them? And on the way I’ll instruct them in the proper expression of such things. Shall we meet again at the ice rink to collect the girls?”

Her color still high, Claire nodded and gave him a speaking look that conveyed—what? Surely that soulful expression was more than gratitude for such a simple favor?

“Thank you. Dear me. Willie, you and Tigg are to go with Mr. Malvern, since I am superfluous in matters that concern gentlemen. I shall attempt to extricate the Mopsies from whatever disaster they have managed to create at the ice rink.”

She marched away, her back straight, her skirts frothing around her ankles with the firmness of her step. What a pretty sight she was. How utterly wasted as the governess of these children. There must be some way to convince her to come and work with him.

James was around here somewhere. Andrew would prevail on him to apologize for whatever offence he had caused, and then together they would bring their powers of persuasion to bear. Now that he had found her again, he would not allow her to disappear. He would have to go a long way to find a woman like this again.

As a suitable assistant.