Chapter 19
Chapter
Back at D.O.G.S. headquarters in the privacy of Professor Quimby’s home office, Margaret peered through her blue monocle, reading over a written report for the Widow on the unexpected case developments at last night’s Bibliophile Ball.
Namely, Mr. Noble’s becoming a sworn covert asset.
Nodding approval of the document, she handed it back to the chief for immediate dispatch.
Professor Quimby blotted the covert missive’s invisible ink before rolling the paper into a tube and sealing it with blue wax imprinted with the Daughters of Genius Society seal.
She then offered the message to Penny, the miniature poodle who waited patiently beside the desk.
The chief issued a command in ancient Greek, and Penny rose onto her haunches, accepting the report between her tiny teeth like a passed baton.
On dainty paws, the poodle pranced over to one of the wainscoted walls, which featured decorative medallions and reliefs that resembled Wedgwood Jasperware of frolicking Grecian women holding jars and garlands of flowers.
Against this wall, I.Q. the beagle awaited his orders.
The chief gave a command in Latin, and I.Q.
executed a practiced boop to one of the medallions, which depressed beneath the pressure of his little nose.
One of the Grecian women’s jars tipped as though to pour out water, revealing it to be an escutcheon that concealed a pneumatic tube.
Penny slid the covert report into the tube, and I.Q.
booped the medallion a second time. The jar-shaped escutcheon swiveled back into place, and immediately, a whooshing within the walls signaled that the pneumatic tube transport system had activated, propelling the message to the Widow’s secret residence by means of compressed air and a partial vacuum.
A technological marvel that predated Margaret’s joining the D.O.G.S.
, which she desperately hoped to be allowed to examine one day.
A hope likely to remain unfulfilled as any study of the system would reveal the Widow’s undisclosed location.
Having fulfilled their orders, I.Q. and Penny received a well-deserved treat and pat on the head from Professor Quimby before assuming a protective stance, snouts toward the door.
The chief clasped her hands atop the desk.
“Now that’s done, let’s discuss next steps.
While involving a covert asset isn’t preferable in most cases, I do believe Mr. Noble’s involvement in this particular case will be a boon.
Moving forward, I expect you to be proactive about delegating tasks to him and your fellow inspectors whenever possible.
I want you to be able to work this case, Inspector Kingsley, not have it work you into the ground.
So, be forthright with me. How often do you think you can comfortably visit the Invention Factory to peruse their records? ”
Margaret thought long and logically. “If I make my visits of a shorter duration, I believe I could comfortably go to Innovation Park every day without risking another physical crash.” Essentially, the teaspoons normally reserved for tinkering in her workshop would instead be used for conducting her investigation.
“I could use the weekends to recuperate, as per my accustomed routine, and if it’s not too much trouble .
. . perhaps you could come to my home on Sunday afternoons to receive my reports? If it’s too much of a bother, I—”
A raised hand from the chief cut off her words. “If my coming to your home will enable you to conserve and utilize your energy on the more pressing matter of concluding this investigation, it’s no bother.”
After conveying her gratitude, Margaret exited the chief’s office, only to find the corridor occupied.
Jane and Helena stood side by side, the former the epitome of stoicism while the latter resembled an overheated boiler with freckles.
At their feet, Flopsy Cottontail busied herself cleaning her lop ears, as though to say she washed her paws of whatever was about to transpire.
Helena crossed her arms and arched a brow. “Well?”
Margaret mirrored her friend’s pose. “Well . . . what?”
With a great huff, Helena tossed her leaf-strewn plait over her shoulder and planted fists on either hip.
“You can’t fall in love with that brown-eyed charmer, Maggie.
You just can’t! Do you hear me? It’s expressly forbidden.
Because if you fall in love, you’ll want to get married.
And if you get married, you’ll have to resign.
And then everything will change, and we’ll never see you again.
So you see, you just can’t fall in love, because it would absolutely ruin completely everything!
” All steam expended, Helena released a garbled hiccup.
Margaret blinked. Fall in love? Brown-eyed charmer? Had Helena had an accident with one of her mushroom specimens? She turned her gaze on Jane, whose face remained impassive. “Explain.”
Jane sighed. “I observed something at the ball, and Helena isn’t taking it well.”
“And that observation would be what, exactly?”
“That Mr. Noble fancies you, Maggie.”
Her forehead scrunched. Fancy . . . her? Mr. Noble? “There are myriad definitions of the word fancy. I’ll need you to be more specific.” For, surely, Jane could not mean—
“Mr. Noble fancies you in accordance with the definition provided by the Oxford English Dictionary. A verb, meaning ‘to find romantically attractive’, e.g., ‘Mr. Noble has taken quite a fancy to Lady Margaret Kingsley.’”
Romantically? Attract—no, no. She’d not even think the other word. “You cannot be serious. Mr. Noble isn’t . . . no man could ever . . .” Margaret shook her head and rolled toward her workshop, suddenly overcome by the need to tinker. “You’re mistaken, Jane.”
Footsteps indicated a swift pursuit. “I’m not mistaken. Have you not noticed how the man looks at you, Maggie?”
No, Margaret hadn’t noticed how Mr. Noble looked at her—just that he actually looked at her.
Not at her chair as though she were naught but a piece of furniture.
Not skimming over her head as though she were a bothersome child underfoot.
Not straight through her as though she were nothing at all.
Not evasively, gaze hovering just over her shoulder, as though to fix upon the sight of her was physically painful.
He just looked at her. Was that what made Jane think his feelings were more than mere kindness?
She zoomed into her workshop with celerity and picked up the first tool in reach. A pair of pliers, which she immediately employed in prying open a machine. “Mr. Noble is nice. That’s all.”
Helena stomped after her with Flopsy now swinging from her satchel. “Niceness doesn’t make a person blush, and Jane said she distinctly saw him blush as soon as he set eyes on you.”
The pliers froze in Margaret’s grasp.
“And that his eyes twinkled every time you spoke.”
Margaret gnawed on her lip.
“And that when you left the room, his gaze followed after you as though utterly transfixed.”
She swallowed, not daring to look up from her machine and pliers. Apparently, Jane had done as much spying from the doorway as she had standing guard before it. “Is this true, Jane? Did you say these absurd things?”
Jane knelt before her, forcing Margaret to meet her blue eyes. “I merely said what I observed firsthand. The sight of you brought Mr. Noble great delight. A delight that was not duplicated when he was in the company of your fellow lady inspectors.”
Unaccountably, Margaret’s heart rate accelerated.
She’d never known Jane to speak a falsehood.
Therefore, her observations must be true.
But that didn’t mean her analysis of what she’d observed was accurate.
Jane’s early childhood had been spent around the theater, where her mother had worked as an actress.
Was it possible her friend had transposed theatrical notions of romance onto a congenial conversation?
“I don’t know, Jane. Your theory seems conjectural. ”
“Then conduct a scientific experiment to prove my theory. When you meet with Mr. Noble again, make the most ridiculous of requests and then bat your lashes. If he grants your request, my theory is sound.”
Margaret gaped. “You wish me to bat my lashes . . . for science?”
Kneeling with a huff, Helena glared at Jane.
“That sort of experiment wouldn’t be conclusive even if it were scientific.
Besides, the man’s feelings are irrelevant, because Maggie is not going to fall in love.
None of us are. We’re going to cling to our spinsterhood and remain together.
Just as we are. Lady inspectors for the Daughters of Genius Society.
” She placed her satchel on Margaret’s lap.
“Promise, Maggie. Promise a solemn oath on Flopsy Cottontail’s hallowed ears that you won’t fall in love. ”
“Promise you’ll try the experiment,” Jane countered.
Margaret looked between her friends, separated by matters of scientific theory and a white lop-eared rabbit.
“Fine. I promise to try the so-called experiment.” Helena sighed in exasperation as Jane raised a fist. Placing a hand on Jane’s fist, Margaret gently lowered the presumptuous gesture of victory.
“I’m only agreeing as a means of assuaging Helena’s concerns when you’re proven wrong, Jane.
Regardless of the outcome, I won’t promise to consider the experiment legitimate or the results scientifically conclusive.
And before you pipe up again, Helena, I shan’t bother promising not to fall in love either. ”
Because the notion of any man fancying her, let alone falling in love with her, defied logic.