The Designs of Lord Randolph Cavanaugh

by Stephanie Laurens

  Felicia had drawn closer to study the new tubes. She stepped back with an expression of relief. “Of course.”

  William John grinned at her. “As I said, balance in all things.”

  Rand smiled at William John’s exuberance, then he returned his gaze to the engine. After a moment, he sobered. “Have you completed the tests yet?”

  William John regarded the engine with obvious fondness. “Not yet. I’ll do that today.”

  Rand exchanged a sidelong glance with Felicia. “For the sake of our peace of mind, what’s say you run the tests twice?”

  Transparently content, William John shrugged. “If you like.” His grin resurfaced. He drew out his watch and consulted the face, then, with evident satisfaction, tucked the watch back. “But it’s been chugging along sweetly for over half an hour, and it’s still perfectly in tune, perfectly aligned. Nothing’s going to blow now.”

  “Nevertheless,” Felicia said. “Just to be sure, run the tests twice. How long will that take?”

  “I need to let the boiler cool between tests, so I’ll get the first set run today, then we can perform the second round tomorrow, while we make the final preparations for seating the engine into the carriage.” Over Felicia’s head, William John met Rand’s eyes. “It’ll take us all of the next day—the day after tomorrow—to fix the engine into the carriage, then put the completed machine through its paces.”

  Rand nodded. “We’re going to meet our deadline, but with no days to spare. We’ll need to leave on Thursday morning to get the carriage onto the exhibition floor by late Friday afternoon.”

  “That’s when it has to be there?” Felicia asked.

  Rand nodded again. “But as it appears Fate has finally decided to smile upon us, I’m increasingly certain we’ll make it.” He met William John’s, then Felicia’s eyes. “I believe we can look forward to seeing what Birmingham, Prince Albert, and the inventing world make of the Throgmorton Steam-Powered Horseless Carriage.”

  * * *

  The following days passed in a state of organized chaos.

  Shields returned from Raventhorne Abbey while they were still at the breakfast table, with the entire household in alt over the news that the engine’s problems had been solved and it was finally working as it should. After confirming that the Marquess of Raventhorne would arrive with a goodly number of guards on Wednesday afternoon—Rand had asked Ryder to come on that day—Shields, along with Joe and Martin, followed William John down to the workshop for a demonstration of the magnificent machine.

  Subsequently, throughout Monday, William John dutifully ran the first round of final tests. Felicia elected to serve as his assistant, pointing out that two pairs of eyes and ears were preferable to one, especially when they all had so much riding on the outcome.

  Meanwhile, Rand took over the sitting room. He spread maps of the area on a low table, and, with Shields and Struthers, plotted the route they would take to the exhibition and planned where they would halt along the way, every decision made with an eye to being best able to protect the invention—and Felicia and William John, too. “In Birmingham, we’ll put up at the Old Crown. It’s on our road in, and it’s the most suitable place to accommodate us all.”

  Rand scanned the list of roads and inns they would halt at—for lunch as well as for the night of Thursday. Then he held out the list to Shields. “Ride to Banbury and arrange for rooms there, then go on to the Old Crown and do the same. As Ryder will be with us, use his title—it never hurts.”

  He exchanged a grin with Shields, who took the list and rose.

  “I’ll take note of the roads as I go,” Shields said, “and look for places that might hide an ambush. If I leave now, I’ll be back by Wednesday morning, in time to help lift the engine into the carriage.”

  “Yes—look for anywhere that might conceal an attack.” Rand got to his feet, along with Struthers. “Meanwhile”—he looked at Struthers—“let’s see if there’s anything we can do to help prepare the body of the carriage.”

  He and Struthers spent the afternoon oiling and rechecking every moving part of the now-gleaming carriage.

  Rand spent the evening with Felicia, Flora, and William John, all of them buoyed by the rising tide of excitement that had infected the whole household.

  That excitement lent spice to his and Felicia’s later encounter, one that settled them both, in some indefinable way, drawing them even closer. As if with each passing day, they aligned just a little more perfectly with each other.

  Tuesday saw the engine clear the final round of tests with flying colors, and the carriage readied in every way possible for the moment when the engine would be lifted and lowered into the cavity in front of the carriage’s forward driving board. That was one of William Throgmorton’s original modifications, placing the engine in front of the passengers, rather than behind.

  That evening, Flora and the household staff organized a celebration. As Johnson, who proposed the toast, stated, the staff had lived with the invention through thick and thin, over all the months since their late master had commenced working on the project, and as they wouldn’t be at the exhibition to observe its moment of glory, it was only fitting that they drank to the success of the engine and its inventors here and now.

  After a nudge from Felicia, William John rose to the occasion and thanked everyone for their forbearance, truthfully adding that success wouldn’t have been achieved without the help of everyone there, before concluding with the observation that those at the Hall today were the first to see history in the making, and that tomorrow, the future would be here.

  By general consensus, the household retired for an early night. Rand followed Felicia to her room, and, after clinging to each other through the throes of a distinctly exploratory bout of lovemaking, they slept slumped in each other’s arms as the moon sailed across the sky.

  Then the sun dawned, and Wednesday was upon them.

  Shields returned to report that their route to Birmingham held few places where attackers might lie in wait and that the required rooms for their party, including the barn for the steam-powered carriage that Rand had insisted they needed for their overnight stay in Banbury, had been secured.

  Immediately after breakfast, it was all hands on deck in the workshop. With the outer doors propped wide, William John and Rand released the heavy locking bolts that had anchored the iron wheels of the frame supporting the engine to the workshop floor, then all the men put their shoulders to the massive frame, heaved, and started it rolling, slowly and ponderously, out of the workshop in which it had sat for nearly two full years.

  Foot by foot, the frame emerged through the doors and rolled onto the flagstones of the courtyard between the house and the kitchen garden, exposing the engine to the lazy, hazy summer sunshine.

  There were murmurs of approval and wonder from the women of the household—from Flora, Mrs. Reilly, her four daughters, and Cook—all of whom had lined up along the front of the kitchen garden to watch.

  Finally, the engine in its frame was halted in the middle of the courtyard, parallel to the house, and chocks were pushed beneath the frame’s wheels to stop it from shifting.

  “Now”—William John straightened and dusted his hands—“we have to assemble the gantry and pulleys.”

  He, Joe, and Martin returned to the workshop, reappearing moments later, lugging armfuls of heavy struts and braces, which they laid on the flagstones. While William John sorted the pieces, Joe and Martin fetched two large steel beams, then under William John’s direction, the men started constructing the gantry to either side in front of and across the frame containing the engine.

  When Felicia asked how long assembling the structure would take and William John airily suggested two hours, the women lost interest and drifted back to their work.

  All except Felicia; this was, in that moment, her most important task. Arms crossed, she
watched critically as the gantry took shape. Once the major struts had been locked into position, she inquired of William John, then conscripted Rand, Struthers, and Shields to assist her in rolling the carriage part of the invention out of the stable and around to the courtyard.

  The carriage stood waiting in the stable, with every surface polished and gleaming. The seat was of golden oak, and the side panels, metal guards, and forward and rear plates had been painted a deep green, the better to display the solid brass of the levers and fittings.

  At Rand’s suggestion, Felicia climbed to the seat, sat, and used the wheel to steer the carriage, propelled by the three men, out of the stable yard, onto the drive, and around onto the wide path that ran along the rear of the house to end at the courtyard. She had to concentrate at first, but by the time they reached the courtyard and she applied the brake, halting the carriage with the nose of its empty forward compartment mere inches from the engine’s frame, she had a wide grin on her face, and excitement once again fizzed in her veins.

  William John and Joe were up on ladders set on either side of the frame, fixing heavy-duty pulleys with their dangling chains to the gantry’s massive upper beams. Once that was done, the pair climbed down, and everyone stood back and considered their next move—raising the engine out of the frame, sliding the frame away, rolling the carriage into place under the suspended engine, then lowering the engine into position in the carriage’s body. “After that,” William John said, “I’ll slide beneath the carriage and secure the engine in place, then attach the shafts to the axles.”

  Everyone glanced at each other, then Rand suggested they fortify themselves with luncheon before embarking on the most crucial stage of the assembly process, and all agreed. Johnson, Shields, and Struthers elected to have their meal brought out to them so they could remain with the engine—on guard against anyone who might think to slip out of the woods and tamper with it. After all the watches the men had stood protecting the invention over the past weeks, they were not of a mind to allow anyone to sabotage it at this late stage.

  Relieved on that score, Felicia, Rand, and William John retreated into the house.

  Rising excitement ensured they didn’t dally over the dining table. As soon as they’d sated their appetites, they returned to the courtyard to find the entire staff once again in attendance.

  The moment was another milestone in the long journey to get their father’s last invention to the exhibition. Felicia stood back and watched as, with William John on one side of the frame and Rand on the other, all the male staff set their hands to the thick chains of the twin pulleys and hauled back, hand over hand, and the engine slowly rose from its support inside the frame.

  William John and Rand steadied the massive beast, both calling to the men so they maintained an even lift on both pulleys, keeping the engine level with the ground.

  There was a tense moment when one of the chains caught, then jerked free, but everyone clung to calm, and, once the engine stopped its sudden swaying, the men slowly raised it the last foot, until, finally, it hung suspended, clear of the frame.

  The men on the chains were stationed at the rear of the frame—opposite the end where the carriage sat, with its empty compartment ready to be wheeled under the engine.

  With the engine free of the frame, William John pulled on his side of the frame, and Rand set his hands to the other side and pushed, and the heavy iron frame, now without the weight of the engine, rolled slowly toward the kitchen garden, leaving the space beneath the engine clear.

  The instant the frame was out of the way, William John hurried to the carriage, waving Felicia to climb to the seat. “We’ll push—you steer.”

  She clambered up and, after glancing back and seeing Rand and William John poised at the rear of the carriage, she faced forward and released the brake.

  Slowly, the carriage rolled forward.

  “Keep it straight,” William John called.

  Felicia gripped the wheel with both hands and held it rigidly straight. The engine neared, level with her head. “When should I stop?”

  Forward movement ceased, and Rand and William John strode past Felicia, one on either side. Both halted beside the engine cavity and looked up at the engine, then down at the locking blocks onto which the engine had to be lowered.

  A flurry of rushing steps had Felicia, Rand, and William John looking toward the rear of the carriage. All four Reilly daughters as well as Cook and Mrs. Reilly had come to brace their hands on the rear board of the carriage. Mrs. Reilly looked at William John. “We’ll push—you two let us know how far.”

  Smiling, Felicia faced forward. She shared a look with Rand, who grinned. Then he looked across the engine compartment at William John and nodded. “Your call.”

  With literally everyone bar Flora actively assisting, it took another ten minutes to get the engine compartment positioned to perfection beneath the engine, and then the men, who had been grunting and shifting as they continued to support the weight of the engine, lowered the beast slowly—and then even more slowly as William John and Rand shifted it fractionally so that its foot plates with their bolt holes were perfectly aligned with the supports inside the carriage—until finally, the engine touched the supports. William John and Rand did a last frantic check, reported that the positioning couldn’t be bettered, and at last, the engine was set fully down, the chains went lax, and the Throgmorton Steam-Powered Horseless Carriage was almost complete.

  Relief rippled through everyone, then excitement soared, even more heightened—more expectant—than before.

  Then Mrs. Reilly gathered the female staff, and in a group, they headed back around the house to resume their normal duties. After waving to Felicia, Flora followed.

  Rand came to help Felicia to descend from the carriage’s seat. William John had already turned to instruct the men in moving the gantry away from the carriage. With grunts and much muttering, with all the men lending a hand, they half lifted, half pushed the massive gantry by degrees until it was clear of the carriage.

  William John directed Shields, Struthers, and Johnson to, between them, roll the now-empty frame around the carriage and back into the workshop. While they took care of that, William John, assisted by the other men, fell to dismantling the gantry.

  Taking the structure apart required much less time than it had taken to put it together. Leaving the men to carry the individual beams, struts, and bracing into the workshop, William John came to stand beside Felicia and Rand and study the engine sitting snugly in its compartment. “Now to hook everything together.”

  He swung about and disappeared into the workshop, only to reappear seconds later pushing one of his racks of tools. He angled it beside the carriage, then extracted a board with wheels on one face, set the contraption on the flagstones, then he picked up a wrench, lay flat on the board, and grinned up at Felicia and Rand. “Wish us luck.” William John kissed the wrench, then with his feet propelled himself under the engine.

  Fascinated, Rand and Felicia bent to look and saw William John screwing in the large bolts that would hold the engine in place.

  After a moment, Felicia asked, “How long will it take to connect everything so we can test the carriage as a whole?”

  William John paused in his tightening, then replied, “An hour at least. More likely two.”

  She straightened and looked down at his feet. “In that case, I’ll leave you to it.”

  “No sense in hanging about,” William John blithely confirmed. “If I want anything, I’ll call one of the men, but most of what needs to be done in hooking everything up is down to me.”

  Rand grinned and, with Felicia, moved away from the carriage. “He sounds happy as a grig.”

  “Indeed.” Felicia couldn’t stop smiling herself. She looked back at the carriage as they strolled toward the terrace. “I can barely believe we’re nearly there.”

  She
and Rand shared an expectant glance—then the sound of many horses clopping up the gravel drive reached their ears.

  Rand’s face lit. “That, I believe, will be the party from Raventhorne.”

  “Oh.” Felicia halted and looked down at her green cambric gown. She shook out the skirts and hoped they weren’t too crushed; at least she’d managed to avoid any grease. Raising her gaze, she met Rand’s eyes. “Is my hair still neat?”

  He smiled reassuringly, drew her nearer, and linked his arm with hers. “Don’t worry. I seriously doubt Ryder will notice.”

  “But he’s a marquess.”

  “Yes, he is, but he’s not at all high in the instep, not unless someone annoys him—and trust me, you won’t.”

  They diverted into the workshop and, dodging around the men stowing the pieces of the gantry away, made for the stairs to the front hall. As they climbed, she shot Rand a glance, but his expression stated he was looking forward to seeing his brother, so she bit back her uncertainties and hurried on.

  They stepped into the hall just as Johnson swung the front door wide.

  She approached the doorway, with Rand immediately behind her.

  The sight that met her eyes had them widening.

  A large body of horsemen was milling in the forecourt.

  She knew Rand had asked his brother to send a troop of reinforcements to help guard the carriage, so the number of men didn’t come as a shock. Similarly, the tall, tawny-haired, exceedingly well-set-up gentleman standing beside a huge dappled gray was no great surprise; Rand had expected his brother to accompany his men.

  What did make Felicia blink and slow, then halt—balk—on the threshold was the raven-haired beauty in an exquisitely cut riding dress that the marquess—it had to be he—was in the process of lifting down from the back of a superb black Arab.