Robin yawned so loudly his jaw cracked. “Well, an hour is almost over, and we’ve done no-think.” He laughed at his own wit. “Do you get it? Nothing– No–think.” Then he sat up straight as an idea occurred to him. “Miss Weston, why don’t you tell us the story of your balloon ascent?”
Before Arabella could reply that she might do so later if he stopped hewing up the table, Joy emitted a shrill shriek, making her jump out of her skin.
“Mouuuuse!”
Lured by the cheese, the rodent finally decided to come out. Robin flew out of his chair and went after her. “Grand, I can use it for an experiment. I’ll make a mini balloon and have the first mouse fly to the moon.”
“No, Robin, this ismymouse! Don’t touch her!” Joy scuttled after it on all fours, trying to catch it.
“It’s not!”
“It’s so!”
“It’s not!”
“I’ll tell Papa!”
“Children!” Arabella shouted, but no one heeded her. The mouse zoomed out of the kitchen. Robin and Joy scampered after her, shoving each other out of the way, in an attempt to catch her first.
“Robin, Joy, come back here!” Katy rushed after them.
Within a second, Arabella was alone in the kitchen. She slumped into the chair.
Well, that had been a disaster.
She’d known teaching and disciplining children was hard. But this exhausting? They hadn’t even spent a whole hour together. They were not even as awful as she’d heard from other stories — they were bright, lively children. She couldn’t even handle that. Arabella wiped her brow with her sleeve.
Maybe she wasn’t cut out to be a teacher.
She balled her fingers into a fist, so her nails cut into her palm.
“You will do this, Arabella Astley,” she growled. “Youwillnot give up. You will succeed.”
What she needed was a plan.
Just in that moment, a tremendous thump and a scream emerged from the parlour.
“Miss Weston, come quickly! Joy is burning down the house!” Robin shouted.
Chapter 10
The velocity of this device would depend on how smoothly the circle was wrought about its axis. Philip gave the wheel a spin. Excellent, excellent. With the second attached wheel, which needed an additional dollop of oil, and the attached bar between the two wheels, it looked like half a waggon. He tested the wooden triangle attached on top of the bar. Maybe he could come up with a better design. A saddle of some sort. Covered in leather. He sketched a quick design on paper. He’d ask the carpenter in the village to do this for him. Philip was good at working with fire and iron, but he wasn’t as adept working with wood. He cracked his knuckles with satisfaction as he studied the design.
By Jupiter, he was a bloody fine inventor.
He wiped his hands on his apron and surveyed it with satisfaction. He’d send a prototype with his grandfather, who was arriving in a few days, to London, to patent it. This was going to be the invention that would make him, that would bring him not only money, but also fame. Not that that was what he really wanted. He just wanted that his inventions actually made a difference to the world. Not silly sugar dispensers, shirt folders, pick up devices and so forth. Mind you, he’d sent in prototypes and patents of all these devices to the London patent office — they groaned every time they received one of his letters, a clerk once told him — which was excellent. They should know his name, by Jove.
He rubbed his hands.
He wanted to accomplish something bigger than a wee, tinkered device. He wanted to create something that could change the world.
Like steam engines. Or the voltaic pile. Or gas lamps. Or stand-up baths. Though he thought he could probably do better than what was in use so far. If one could have the water pumped in pipes and warmed before one stepped into the bath ….
Philip’s mind whirled with mathematical figures, equations, drawings, and prototypes.
He drew his brows. He’d get to all that eventually. But first, he’d have to make some blunt so he could pay that governess of his. He’d go to the village first thing tomorrow morning.
How was she faring? he wondered. He’d been working outside in his forge since dawn. It was mid-morning, and thirst scratched at his throat. Returning to the house would provide him a good opportunity to check how that governess was getting along.
