Three
“What are you thinking,”I inquired as we made the ride this morning across London to the office on The Strand.
Brodie sat across from me in the coach, elbow braced on the window’s edge, chin propped on his hand as he stared out the opening with a thoughtful frown. That dark gaze met mine.
He had said little about our meeting with HRH the previous evening, but I knew he was turning it over in his mind, considering the merits of it…considering the difficulties that would be involved. It had been there this morning over breakfast as well.
“I’m thinkin’ that matters involving the nobility are more often than not complicated and difficult, as ye well know. They have that penchant for secrecy in order to protect their good name. And dinna look at me with yer brow raised like that, Mikaela Forsythe. Ye know well my meanin’, and truth is that ye and perhaps her Ladyship are the rare exceptions.”
It was not the first time the difference between our classes had raised its head. I usually chose to ignore it. It made no difference to me.
“Most will do anything to protect their good name, title, and reputation, and it can make a case impossible to solve, not to mention dangerous.”
He was right, of course. We had both encountered that difficulty in past inquiries. While I understood where it came from, I refused to accept it when lives were at stake.
“We should at least meet with Lord Salisbery,” I pointed out. “And then decide if there is any way that we may help in the matter. If not, we will simply have to be honest with both Lord Salisbery and His Highness.”
The look he gave me indicated that he didn’t think it would be that simple. Yet, he said nothing more.
Mr. Cavendish met us on the sidewalk as we arrived.
Brodie paid the driver, then inquired about the work that was being done to the building.
“There was a bit of difficulty yesterday,” Mr. Cavendish replied. “The workmen arrived to finish the lift and connect the electric…”
“And the difficulty?” I inquired.
“The hound managed to get himself trapped in the bloody thing between the first and second floor. The workmen had to disconnect the electric, then lower the compartment by hand crank.
“They said that never happened before, as if the lever inside the compartment might have been meddled with. Although I cannot imagine how it might have happened. It’s all good now.”
Most interesting, I thought. Particularly since it seemed that there was no food or a body part involved. Rupert had survived the ordeal and was already out and about on the streets.
“I will take the stairs,” Brodie announced as I went to inspect the compartment that contained the lift with a door that opened near the alcove.
I stepped inside the compartment, closed the gate, then engaged the lever. There was a faint humming sound as the compartment slowly lifted, then arrived at the second-floor landing and stopped with a soft bump. I opened the gate and stepped out onto the landing.
“Marvelous,” I announced as Brodie stood waiting at the door to the office. “Particularly when the weather sets in, no need for a mad dash up the stairs in the rain. And it does increase the value of the building.”
He was not convinced. “And cost a bloody fortune.”
I ignored that. The cost had actually been quite reasonable, when figured in with the other improvements that were being made. And, as I had previously pointed out to him, once the work was completed, the rents for the other parts of the building would more than cover any cost for the lift.
“Most of the professional buildings about London have them now,” I reminded him. “I have heard that someone is working on an inclined elevator to take passengers from one point to another,” I continued as I joined him at the door to the office.
“Much like climbing a hill, but the machine does it instead with individual steps that move along.”
“I suppose ye will be wanting one installed here,” he commented.
“It might present a difficulty for Mr. Cavendish.” I smothered a smile as I replied. “It has been described as a series of steps that move by way of a belt.”
He shook his head. “I prefer things that dinna move under my feet.”
“We are very near the new century, Mr. Brodie,” I pointed out. “There is talk that the underground tube across the whole of London will be opened very soon.”
“Stairs that move, a train that moves through an underground tube,” he replied as he opened the door to theoffice and waited for me to enter before him. “The next thing ye know, people will be flying about in contraptions with wings. I would not put it past her ladyship to acquire one.”
He did have a point there.
