CHAPTER 8 #2
Wrexford suspected it was due in part from jealousy. The word engineering derived from the Latin ingenium, which meant “cleverness,” and men like James Watt and his partner Matthew Boulton had earned great riches from the patents on their steam engines.
“What is that infernal racket?” asked Sheffield.
“You’ll see in a moment,” he answered. After turning down one of the side corridors, the earl paused at the first door and rapped loudly, hoping to be heard over the metallic clack-clack emanating from inside the laboratory.
“Come in, come in!” called a muffled voice. “But do watch your step.”
Wrexford and Sheffield entered, both of them nearly tripping over an undulating oval formed by a pair of curving steel tracks that were fastened to the floor. They looped under a massive worktable, around a storage cabinet—
From behind it suddenly clattered a foot-high iron carriage belching steam from a smokestack rising up from its front as it raced through the curve.
Sheffield hopped out of the way and watched it speed back under the table, where a rumpled figure was crouched, peering at his pocket watch.
“Excellent, excellent!” exclaimed the fellow after the carriage gurgled to a stop. “Mark my words, we’ll soon have goods and people moving smoothly along roads of rails, rather than bumping over ruts—and at far greater speed!”
“Quite impressive, Hedley,” murmured the earl.
“Yes, Puffing Billy here is a model of my latest innovations—a locomotive with piston rods that extend upward to pivoting beams—”
“Fascinating,” interrupted Wrexford. “But might I ask for a few moments of your time to look at something?”
“I’ve always time for a man of curiosity like yourself, milord.” Hedley crawled out from under the table and tugged his coat into place, setting off a prodigious cloud of dust. “Pray, what is it?”
“Actually, that’s why I’m here.” Wrexford moved to the work desk and unrolled the drawings. “I’m hoping you might have some ideas.”
The engineer patted at his pockets and fished out a pair of spectacles. “Let me have a look.” He came to stand beside the earl and began to page through the drawings.
Sheffield remained where he was, and crouched down to make a closer inspection of the metal tracks and the still-steaming Puffing Billy.
“Hmmph,” grunted Hedley, his brows tweaking up in surprise. “Differential equations.”
“Which means?” asked the earl when the engineer didn’t elaborate on the cryptic statement.
“Which means the man who scribbled in the margins has a very advanced understanding of mathematics.”
Or woman, thought Wrexford.
More grunts followed as Hedley shuffled back and forth between several of the more detailed drawings, then ran a hand through his shaggy hair, leaving the strands standing in spiky tufts. “Ingenious.”
He looked up. “Where did you get these?”
“At the moment, I’m not at liberty to say,” replied the earl. “But I’m hoping to get some answers from you concerning its design.”
“I’ll do my best.” The engineer traced a finger along a series of geared levers.
“Though I confess, I’ve never seen anything quite like this.
” He blew out a breath. “The intricacy of the components rather boggles the mind. I’m not quite sure how one would actually fabricate all the parts .
. . that is, assuming it’s not just a pipe dream. ”
Perhaps it was merely an opium-induced hallucination, thought Wrexford. He had heard that the members of Lady Cordelia’s intellectual salon included some very eccentric individuals.
But if it was real . . .
“Let’s assume it’s not a flight of fancy. Given all the numbered wheels, it looks to me like it might be a machine for doing advanced mathematical calculations. In your judgment, is that technically possible?”
Hedley made a face. “Up until seeing these drawings, I would have said that no mind could envision a design able to perform such complexities. But now . . .” He lifted his shoulders. “But now I’m not so sure.”
The earl considered what he had just heard. “You’re familiar with the best mathematicians in all of Great Britain. Who do you think is capable of such a feat?”
A wry laugh. “I can’t say any of us mere mortals are that advanced in our thinking. But since you wish for a few names, allow me to think . . .” Pursing his lips, the engineer slowly shuffled through the papers again, studying both the technical diagrams and the equations written in the margins.
“At Oxford, there’s an upstart American on a two-year fellowship to Merton College who’s a brilliant theorist and has an expertise in the sort of functions shown here,” he finally said. “But to my knowledge, he’s never shown any sign of being mechanical minded.”
“Nonetheless, I’d be grateful for his name,” said Wrexford.
“I don’t know it. He signs his scientific papers simply as JRE,” answered Hedley. “However, I’ve heard he’s related to a cadet branch of the Marlborough family, so it shouldn’t be difficult to learn.”
“Anyone else?”
“Sorry, but I really can’t offer anyone else who might be capable of such advanced thinking.”
“Thank you.” The earl rerolled the drawings. “I appreciate your time.”
Sheffield was still engrossed in studying the steam-powered engine. “You say you envision this machine moving people and goods, Hedley?”
“Yes!” The engineer’s face took on a dreamy expression. “Mark my words, it will be the transportation of the future. I’ve already built a full-scale model prototype, and we’re testing it at Wylam Colliery. Today I’ve just been tinkering with a slight modification.”
Wrexford stepped carefully over the metal rails, ducking through a plume of steam that was wafting up from the water boiling over a large spirit lamp near the door. “Puffing Billy certainly looks to have great promise. I wish you good fortune with its development.”
“I just need to make a few adjustments to the piston rods . . .”
“Come along, Kit. Let us leave Hedley to his work.”
Sheffield reluctantly rose. But as Wrexford reached for the door latch, Hedley’s murmurings suddenly trailed off. “Wait! A thought just occurred to me. There’s one other name I can give you.” The engineer made an uncertain face. “But I have to warn you, he’s rather . . . odd.”
The earl allowed a small smile. “I thought that was a given with those whose minds are immersed in a world of abstract numbers and what abstruse things they might mean.”
“Just so,” agreed Hedley. “But in a fellowship of thinkers known to be eccentric, Professor Isaac Newton Sudler is considered exceedingly odd.”
Wrexford raised a questioning brow.
“No question that he’s brilliant,” added the engineer. “But alas, there’s a fine line between genius and madness. I doubt . . .” A hesitation. “I don’t wish to speak ill of a colleague.”
“Please go on,” he pressed. “It may be important.”
Hedley shifted uncomfortably, a shimmering of dust motes rising up from the shoulders of his coat.
“For a number of years, he held an important position at Cambridge—in Trinity College, like his famous namesake. However, he’s become a recluse and has given up his teaching duties in order to devote himself to research.
And yet he’s become fanatically secretive about what he’s working on.
” A cough. “I thought of him not just because of his mathematical skills but also because he’s an aficionado of automata. ”
Wrexford frowned in thought. Automata was the term used for complex mechanical devices that were made to amuse or entertain an audience through their technical sophistication. ““You mean . . . toys?”
“Some people call them that,” admitted Hedley.
“Though their technical sophistication transcends such a term. Some of the more well-known examples are quite astounding in their engineering. Why, an Indian sultan possesses a life-size model of a tiger that snarls and snaps its jaws at the fallen English soldier trapped within its paws.”
“Tipu’s Tiger,” murmured Sheffield. “Yes, I’ve heard of it.”
“Impressive, yes. But one of my favorites is a silver dancer designed by John Merlin.” A laugh.
“It’s truly the work of a magician. When you wind it up, it spins around the floor, doing intricate dance steps.
It even winks at you.” Hedley rubbed at his jaw.
“The point is, Sudler has been building automata since his undergraduate days. It began as a hobby, but then it became an obsession.”
“Interesting,” replied Wrexford softly. The information was tantalizing, but he reminded himself that it might only be sending him on a wild goose chase. “I take it Sudler can be found in his chambers at Trinity?”
“No, I heard that he moved out of the college to a private residence several years ago.” Hedley held up his hands. “And before you ask, I can’t tell you where. Nobody seems to know.”
“Again, my thanks.”
“Ha! You might wish to withdraw those words when—and if—you encounter Professor Sudler. But you did ask.”
“So I did.” For a moment, Wrexford silently cursed the sticky web of intrigue that had somehow come to entangle him and his friends. Charlotte, Sheffield, Raven . . . He hated to see them caught up in an impossible quest.
And yet he conceded, the bonds of friendship didn’t give a devil’s damn about what was reasonable or expedient.
So, no matter how far-fetched, he had no choice but to follow the clue.