CHAPTER 32 #2
He hesitated and looked to Cordelia, who was blinking back tears, before continuing. “So he reneged on his deal, and when Wheeler couldn’t change Milton’s mind, he murdered him and stole his work papers and notebook.”
A sigh. “But the problem is, Milton’s scribbling book was just that—incomplete scribbles of vague ideas. The only complete plans for the momentous innovation were inside his head.”
“One thing puzzles me, Carrick,” mused Wrexford. “You said that you went to make one last effort to change Milton’s mind on the night of the murder because you knew he was going to meet with the French radicals at the Three Crowns Inn to turn over the papers explaining his innovation.”
“That’s what I thought.” Carrick made a wry face. “However, Mademoiselle Benoit subsequently learned that Jasper was going to offer himself, rather than any papers. He intended to accompany them back to France.”
“Bloody hell,” said Henning, then rose to pour himself another glass of whisky. “So you’re saying that his momentous idea did indeed die with him.”
“His scribbling book offers some tantalizing clues,” answered Carrick. “But in truth, we really don’t know exactly what he was thinking.”
“Mathematics are key in understanding architectural principles regarding things like mass, weight, and structural strength,” piped up Madame Benoit.
“But as we have all discovered, bridges are far more complicated. There are so many variables, and we really don’t understand all the permutations of how they come into play.
We think Milton was very interested in vibrations and was studying the work of the German physicist Ernst Chladni, who experimented with vibration patterns in oscillating plates.
His work showed practical promise in figuring out ways for stabilizing bridges.
In fact, Napoleon took a great interest in the subject. ”
“Indeed,” said Carrick. “In 1809, the French Academy of Sciences offered a prize for the mathematical explanation of what they called the elasticity problem, and Napoleon offered to give a kilogram of gold to the winner.”
“My friend Marie-Sophie Germain should have won—indeed, she is recognized as the leader in formulating a mathematical theory of elasticity, which has practical applications for bridge design,” said Mademoiselle Benoit. “However, the male judges decided there were small errors in her calculations.”
“My brain is now not only oscillating,” said the dowager faintly as she looked back and forth between the two bridge experts. “It is spinning in circles.”
Cordelia gave a sympathetic smile. “I, too, am having trouble following the technical explanations.”
“I am sorry,” apologized mademoiselle. “I get very excited about the subject. But enough of theory. Let’s just say I am confident that with Mademoiselle Germain’s help, Oliver and I can use Milton’s notes and our own creative thinking to pursue new and innovative ways to improve bridge design through mathematics. ”
But may it happen without any more deaths and deceptions, thought Charlotte.
The sudden rustle of silk drew her back from her brooding. She looked up to see Mrs. Guppy rise from her seat on the sofa and move to the center of the room.
“If I may be permitted to summarize the practical aspects of what we have just heard . . .”
Charlotte signaled for her to go on.
“It seems fair to say that Jasper Milton was working on a number of possibly brilliant theories on how to revolutionize bridge design. But with his death, it will likely be some years before our scientific methods are advanced enough to prove whether any of them are correct.”
“Wheeler and Fenway’s greed has done much harm to Progress,” reflected Sheffield.
“Yes, we have just seen the dark side of scientific thinking and the quest to bring new and wondrous innovations to life,” responded Mrs. Guppy.
“But allow me to offer a brighter development.” She fixed the earl with a smile.
“Thanks to you, Lord Wrexford, and your sworn statement to Mr. Griffin and the Bow Street magistrate that Wheeler confessed to you about murdering Jasper Milton, Oliver Carrick has been exonerated and is no longer a fugitive from justice.”
Cordelia leaned over to give her cousin a hug.
“And I am delighted to announce to all of you that Mademoiselle Benoit, Carrick, and I have officially formed a company to design bridges. Together we have been working on technological innovations involving traditional methods and materials, and we believe we will improve transportation sooner rather than later. At the same time, Mademoiselle Benoit and Carrick will continue Milton’s exploration into using mathematics to develop revolutionary new design concepts. ”
She smiled at the couple. “My two young colleagues possess just the sort of creative minds to lead our scientific thinking about bridges and bridge building into the future.”
So perhaps some real good has come out of tragedy, reflected Charlotte. The thought helped her breathe a little easier, though sadness still weighed on her heart.
“And now,” added Mrs. Guppy, “I imagine you have a great deal to discuss among yourselves, so the three of us will take our leave and give you some privacy.” A twinkle lit in her eyes. “Assuming we are free to go.”
Wrexford acknowledged the question with a polite bow. “I look forward to hearing about your new technologies.”
Mrs. Guppy smoothed a hand over her skirts. “If I may be so bold, we may have a few metallurgy questions for you, milord.”
“It would be my pleasure to assist.”
On that cheerful note, and with a flurry of good wishes all around, the trio took their leave.
* * *
“I suppose all’s well that ends well. Though it leaves a terrible taste in the mouth to think that four people lost their lives for no good reason.” Alison released a mournful sigh. “Will someone kindly pass me a ginger biscuit?”
Raven, his hearing as batlike as ever, appeared in a flash at the sideboard and brought the platter to the dowager. “Have two, Aunt Alison.”
A chorus of chuckles lightened the somber mood.
“This has been a particularly difficult investigation,” observed the earl.
He knew that Charlotte was troubled by some of the decisions they had made. Their family had been put in grave danger on several occasions, and he sensed that she was asking herself whether they had crossed the line.
He was wondering the same thing, but that was something to be discussed in private. For now there were other matters to resolve.
“Amen to that,” responded Henning. “Yes, it was messy. Sometimes Good and Evil aren’t clearly defined. Let us just give thanks that this close-knit circle of family and friends came through it unscathed.”
Tyler picked up the bottle of whisky from the sideboard and cocked a salute to the surgeon.
“Given that you have the malt in hand, come pour me another wee dram,” drawled Henning.
“What will happen to Fenway?” asked Cordelia.
“The government will, of course, cover up the fact that a highly respected member of the ruling class is a corrupt criminal,” said Wrexford.
“They will announce that Fenway has retired from public life due to health reasons, and he’ll be packed off to his estate in Derbyshire, where he will live out his days in poverty, as all his ill-gotten assets will be forfeited to the Crown. ”
“Assuming Grentham doesn’t order a hunting accident in order to be rid of the potential for embarrassment,” muttered Henning.
“Hmmm, I wonder . . .” mused Charlotte. “But no,” she quickly added, “in this case I think A. J. Quill agrees that some scandals don’t deserve the light of day.
The Bristol Road Project is important for the country.
It shouldn’t lose the support of the public or Parliament because of Fenway and Wheeler’s machinations. ”
“As to that . . .” Cordelia mustered her first real smile of the meeting. “Kit has been asked to head up one of the subcommittees.”
“I look forward to taking up the challenges,” said Sheffield. “But only after my bride and I take our delayed wedding trip to the Continent.”
“Bravo!” exclaimed Wrexford. “The government has made a wise choice.”
Sheffield drew in a deep breath. “We shall see. But I hope to do some good.”
“There is still one thing I am wondering, sir,” ventured Peregrine. “You mentioned that Lord Fenway and Mr. Wheeler imprisoned you in the dreaded Lockbox. How did you ever discover the secret passageway?”
“I have a confession to make, lad,” replied the earl. “I attended Eton for a term—well, three-quarters of a term—but hated it, so I got myself expelled. However, I didn’t want to mention that to you boys, so as not to set a bad example for you.”
“What did you do, Wrex?” demanded Raven.
“There were no stink bombs involved,” responded Wrexford.
“My brother and I formed a small band of like-minded rebels, and we sneaked out of our quarters every night to explore the school. We had heard rumors of the passageways and managed to locate a few of them early on, which allowed us to escape the night watchmen. I then found an ancient map of all the tunnels in the library archives and made a copy, which allowed us to create some outrageous overnight mayhem—a pig in the provost’s inner sanctum, itching powder in the headmaster’s robes . . .”
The Weasels began to chortle.
“The headmaster couldn’t prove that my brother and I were the ringleaders. However, my father was soon requested to find other educational opportunities for us,” finished the earl. “But be forewarned. Do not consider this revelation to be a license to commit mayhem going forward.”
He paused, his expression turning very solemn.
“As we have seen in this investigation, actions have consequences—and not always the ones that are intended. I hope we have all learned the lesson of how important it is to consider our decisions very carefully and think through the possible ramifications.”
All three boys nodded in unison.