“Merciful heavens—what a cork-brained idiot I am!” exclaimed Wolcott. “I had heard of it months ago from Professor Murray, but somehow the fact that it was taking place now managed to slip my mind.” He made a self-deprecating face. “Do you think it might be possible to arrange a meeting with him so that I may express my thanks for all his help?”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” said Wrexford. “His heart had been weak for some time, and alas, he suffered a fatal spasm last week.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. What a distressing loss,” responded Wolcott in a voice tightened by shock. “Professor Murray will be greatly saddened by the news.” He fell silent for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought. “Now that you mention the symposium, I recall a mention in his last letter of being very excited about the discovery Becton was going to reveal in his lecture.”
Charlotte had gone pale, but refrained from joining the conversation. A wise move, decided Wrexford. Her relationship with her brother was fraught with enough complication without having him wonder why she had any knowledge about the death of a stranger.
“Did he say what it was?” Wrexford asked.
Wolcott shook his head. “No, but that’s hardly surprising, as I’m a mere neophyte.” He rolled his glass between his palms, watching the amber spirits slowly spin. “At least Becton will live on through his work.”
“Indeed.” However meaningful Wolcott’s unexpected revelations might prove, Wrexford decided this was neither the time nor the place to parse through them. “It’s a pity that you’ll not have the opportunity to make his acquaintance. But I imagine you’ll still find a visit to the Royal Botanic Gardens fascinating. Charlotte is familiar with the grounds, and I’m sure she would be delighted to give you a grand tour.”
“Yes, it would be a great pleasure,” she confirmed. “Death should not overshadow the celebration of Life, in all its glorious profusion of shapes and textures and colors.” A glance at the dowager. “Might we convince you to join us?”
“What a splendid idea!” replied Alison. “And we must bring the Weasels.”
“Weasels?” Wolcott raised his brows in confusion. “But surely such destructive creatures would cause great damage to the delicate flora.”
Charlotte let out a burble of laughter. “These Weasels are capable of causing a great deal of mayhem, but I assure you, the plantings are quite safe from them. You see, it’s a term of, er, endearment that we use for my two wards, who—for the most part—don’t behave like wild beasts.”
Her lips twitched. “However, I’ll make no promises about the cleanliness of their paws or clothing. Like a magnet drawing iron filings, they seem to exert a powerful force for attracting all sorts of muck.”
Wolcott chuckled. “Boys will be boys.”
And Weasels will be Weasels,thought the earl.Confuse the two at your own peril, Lord Wolcott.But that was a lesson his soon-to-be brother-in-law would need to learn for himself.
“Shall we make it for the day after tomorrow?” suggested the dowager. “Hartley and I must make some morning calls tomorrow after nuncheon.”
“And then I’ve an engagement to dine with some old friends at my club,” added her brother.
“That’s perfect,” Charlotte assured them. “I’ll have my maid pack a picnic and we can make a day of it.”
Any lingering shadows from the mention of death gave way to a lighter mood as the plans were quickly finalized and a time set for the dowager’s barouche to fetch Charlotte and the boys. The talk then moved on to other London landmarks that might interest Wolcott.
“Ye heavens, I’m exhausted just listening to such peregrinations,” quipped the dowager as she patted back a yawn.
Charlotte quickly rose. “Much as I don’t want the evening to end, we ought not keep you up any longer.”
“There will be many more of them,” said Wolcott as he shot to his feet and drew her into a parting hug. “I can’t begin to express how happy I am that we’ve reconnected.”
As Wolcott drew back and cleared his throat, Wrexford saw both of them were blinking back tears.
“Dash it all, I’ve missed you, Charlie.”
“And I you, Hartley.”
Ebb and flow,mused the earl. Life was in a state of constant motion, of constant flux—the elemental forces of the universe inexorably pushing and pulling at each other. Light giving way to dark, and then reasserting itself . . .
Watching Charlotte and her brother, he vowed to himself that her future would not be as shadowed as her past.
* * *
“You’re up awfully late.” Wrexford shrugged out of his overcoat and eyed the jumble of open books spread out over the counter of the workroom after letting it drop to the floor. “Dare I ask why?”
Tyler looked up from the leather-bound codex he was reading and pinched at the bridge of his nose. He was sitting in one of the armchairs by the fireplace, but the coals had burned down to ashes. “So far, there’s nothing worth mentioning.” An uncharacteristic note of defeat shaded the valet’s voice. “I’ve done naught but fritter away the hours in looking for . . .” He blew out his breath. “In looking for something that likely doesn’t exist.”
The earl poured out two measures of whisky and carried them over to the chairs. “By its very nature, science involves many wild goose chases. Failure is often just as important as success for what it tells us.”
