CHAPTER 24
After rinsing out her brushes and putting away her paints, Charlotte gathered up the reference books she had brought up from Wrexford’s library and set them aside.
Though forced to take some artistic license in drawing a propeller—having never seen one, she had to guess at some of the nuances—she was satisfied with the finished artwork.
More importantly, her conscience was at peace.
“The issues it raises are important for the public to understand,” she told herself. “Assuming the concept actually works, propeller technology would revolutionize ocean travel and thus greatly affect our nation.”
As for the personal ramifications . . .
Now that they had evidence of Taviot’s guilt, she hoped that the authorities would move without delay to apprehend him and bring the investigation into Greeley’s death to an end.
And put Wrexford’s old ghosts to rest.
Strangely enough, Charlotte found that the question of whether Taviot’s consortium was a fraud had also come to matter to her, despite having no personal connection to the outcome.
At first, she had seen it as merely an all-too-common story of business competitors resorting to skullduggery to reap great financial rewards.
However, she now realized that given far-reaching economic and military consequences, it would be dangerous for the new technology to end up in such unscrupulous hands.
A discreet cough from Riche, who was standing in the open doorway, drew her out of her musing.
“A note just arrived from Lady Peake,” he announced.
“Thank you.” Charlotte rose and went to take it.
“Ah,” she murmured. A smile blossomed on her lips as she read it.
“Would you kindly go to the kitchen and warn McClellan that she had better bake an extra batch of ginger biscuits? Aunt Alison is bringing her young relative, Midshipman Horatio Porter, to visit with the boys.” Their fencing lesson done, the Weasels and Peregrine had returned to their eyrie.
“Very good, milady.”
As he withdrew, she pondered the other information contained in the note.
Alison had just received an invitation from Lady Kirkwall to attend a soiree this coming evening—a small and exclusive gathering for potential investors in advance of the gala reception—at the Taviot townhouse in Mayfair, and asked if Charlotte would like to accompany her.
At first it seemed a simple question—with an equally simple answer. Charlotte’s first reaction was an emphatic no. It seemed at cross-purposes to have any contact with the family.
But on second thought, she considered the ramifications.
Wrexford had not yet met with Griffin, and given his concerns about how the government might choose to deal with Taviot, perhaps it was wiser to attend.
Wrexford and Sheffield had been wearing knitted toques and scarves that hid their features during the break-in at the secret laboratory, so it was likely that they would be thought mere thieves.
However, it was imperative not to give the miscreant any reason to suspect that his misdeeds had been discovered.
If cornered, a desperate man was wont to do desperate things.
But of course, she told herself, it wouldn’t come to that.
After dropping the note on her worktable, Charlotte turned and headed for the stairs to inform the boys of Horatio’s impending arrival.
As she approached the half-open schoolroom door, the clack and whir of spinning metal, punctuated by hoots of laughter, announced that the boys were working on Peregrine’s mechanical hound.
Thank heavens. Charlotte paused to savor the sounds of playful exuberance. Of late, she had found herself worrying that the investigations were putting too much responsibility on their youthful shoulders. Granted, Raven and Hawk were no strangers to the dark side of human nature, but . . .
Peregrine’s sudden shout of mirth made her heart lurch. She had come to think of him as part of their family, but circumstances demanded that he leave soon for the Michaelmas term at Eton.
Change is an inexorable part of Life.
“Whether we want it to be or not,” Charlotte whispered.
More laughter.
“Carpe diem,” she added, reminding herself that fretting over the future did no good.
Seize the day—and every precious moment it offered in the here and now.
In that instant, she vowed that when the current troubles were over, she and Wrexford would take Raven and Hawk to their country estate near Cambridge for some peace and quiet.
An imperfect plan, as Peregrine would likely have naught but a few days to spend with them before school started.
But one must bend with the prevailing winds rather than snap.
Forcing her thoughts back to the present, Charlotte rapped lightly on the door.
Taking a happy woof from Harper as permission to enter, she stepped into the room, a smile chasing away her fretting as she surveyed the chaos.
Screws and levers of various sizes were scattered helter-pelter over the rug.
Raven had just released the spring mechanism which moved the mechanical hound’s legs while Peregrine lay sprawled on the floor, his nose perilously close to fast-moving pieces of metal as he watched the assembly of spinning gears.
“They are deciding whether to put in smaller gears to make the hound go faster,” explained Hawk, pitching his voice to be heard over the noise. He was sitting above the fray, his chair angled close to one of the school desks.
Sidestepping the jumble of metal parts, Charlotte went to join him. “What are you drawing?” she asked, seeing he had a colored pencil in hand and several others lying beside his paper.
“Wrex gave us the scrap of fabric that he tore from his assailant’s coat last night.
” Hawk’s eyes narrowed in concentration as he contemplated his sketch.
“I’m copying the bits of embroidery. My guess is the colored threads were part of an insignia, so I’m trying to see if I can spot a clue that might help me figure out what it might be. ”
“What a clever idea,” she exclaimed. The thought hadn’t occurred to her, and for a long moment, she, too, studied the bits of gold and red.
Alas, the flecks of thread refused to stitch into any coherent image.
The whirring slowed and then stopped. Raven scrambled to his feet and went to fetch a tiny tool from the wooden box beside Peregrine.
“Would you like to see it walk again?” he asked her.
“Falcon figured out a very clever way to install a spring mechanism, based on a sketch that Mr. Hedley gave him.”
Charlotte repressed a wince on seeing him scrub his hands on the seat of his pants.
However, compared to the hideous substances that usually clung to his fingers, whale oil was fairly harmless.
“It’s quite marvelous,” she answered. “But why don’t you save further displays for when Horatio arrives.
Aunt Alison is on her way here, and she’s bringing him for a visit. ”
She smiled. “Alison and I have a soiree to attend this evening, so I will suggest to her that it would be a nice treat for him to spend the night here with you boys.”
“Hooray!” crowed Raven. “We’ve told him all about Peregrine’s hound, and now he will have a chance to see it for himself.”
“Hooray!” echoed Hawk. He put down his pencil and made a face. “I’m not very good at mechanics, but as I’m not making any progress with my pencil, I might as well pass you the gears and hold the turnscrew while you work.”
“You can keep trying later,” said his brother. “You never know when inspiration will strike.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself, sweeting,” she counseled. “I don’t see any clues in the fabric, either.”
Raven returned to fiddling with the gears attached to the underbelly of the mechanical hound. “Perhaps Osprey will have some ideas on how to make the hound walk faster.”
Peregrine nodded. “Right. He mentioned that Mr. Tilden is teaching him about engineering.”
“I’m sure your fellow students at Eton will be very impressed with your creation when you and your hound return to school,” observed Charlotte.
“I think they’ll be even more impressed with your left jab and right upper cut,” chortled Raven. “Any bully who looks to prey on you this term will find himself with a bloodied beak.”
“Or black-and blue cods,” sniggered Hawk.
Charlotte maintained a stoic silence. She didn’t condone such gleeful savagery, but she accepted it as a necessary evil.
Whether dressed in finespun wool or filthy rags, human nature was the same.
The elite school for the rich and privileged ran on the same primitive wolf-eat-wolf rules as the London slums. Peregrine had suffered nasty taunts and beatings the previous spring.
However, he was now quite skilled in defending himself, which would earn him the respect of his peers.
Thanks to the Weasels, who had taught him all manner of kicks and punches that no proper little gentleman was supposed to know.
“I hate Eton.” Expelling a sigh, Peregrine looked up at her with a beseeching look. “Can’t I stay here and be tutored by Mr. Lynsley, like Raven and Hawk?”
If the decision was up to her, she would say “yes” in a heartbeat. “I fear not, Falcon. To us, you are family, but Wrex and I must respect that your cousin is your legal guardian until you reach your majority, and so we must—”
“Defer to his wishes, whether I like it or not,” intoned the boy. “Would that I could snap my fingers and in the next instant turn twenty-one.”
Charlotte felt a knife-like stab in her chest as she regarded the boys, thinking that the three of them would grow up way too quickly.
And then she felt a chill snake down her spine. Life was so fragile, and as her husband knew all too well, love was a wondrous power, but it couldn’t work miracles.
Ha, just let the Grim Reaper try to swing his scythe at any of my loved ones—he will find himself in for a rude surprise.