Jamie doesn't know what to say to that, so he simply nods and watches Mr. Burton stride to the door.
"Good day to you, Mr. Griffith." Mr. Burton turns, taking up the hat and walking stick he'd left by the door.
"And good day to you as well, Mr. Burton," Jamie replies without thought.
"My employer will send you the money you will need for your trip to Cambridge," Mr. Burton informs him before stepping through the door and shutting it behind him.
Jamie listens to the other man descend the stairs, then scrubs both hands across his face. He feels almost ill from the whole ordeal.
The money would mean he could live comfortably and without worries, for a time at least. The case itself, with his name firmly attached to it this time, would make his career. He would have clients then, real, legitimate clients who would come with honest cases for him to solve.
He is wicked for taking the case on though, he knows that perfectly well. The honorable thing would have been to turn Mr. Burton away the moment he suggested wrongdoing—yet Jamie hadn't.
Oh, he isn't going to frame anyone. That would be far, far past what Jamie is willing to do. Protecting an abused woman was one thing, but sending an innocent man to prison he would not, under any circumstances, do. Mr. Burton and his employer clearly think Jamie will do this thing and that in and of itself is extremely disheartening. Jamie though knows there isn't enough money or prestige in the world to make him do that.
There seems to be something else going on here though, something underneath what Jamie has been told, and that interests him. If he needs Mr. Burton and his employer to think Jamie is willing to go along with their nasty little scheme so that Jamie can do his own work, so be it. If Hallingsworth is innocent and Jamie cannot find the real murderer, then he will walk away. There is a real villain to be caught though, and Jamie is willing to lie a little about his identity to find him. Someone had killed the dean, after all, and if he could manipulate Mr. Burton and his employer into giving him the opportunity to figure out who, then he would. They have proved themselves to be no better than criminals, after all.
He turns his chair away from the door to the desk and starts rummaging through piles of papers and books, looking for train timetables. He needs to buy a ticket to Cambridge leaving first thing the next day.
*~*~*
Scarcely twenty-four hours after Jamie's conversation with Mr. Burton, he is on a train heading towards Cambridge University and the College of Natural and Computative Science.
Jamie looks out the window and thinks about how much money had been delivered to him that morning from his still-nameless client. More money than he would possibly need for his investigation, Jamie is sure. The money had been accompanied by a note and a copy of a completed application for the post, with reference letters in order. Jamie reads the letter, which informs him that his client had taken the liberty of writing ahead to Professor Hallingsworth and stating Jamie's interest in the research position. Jamie still isn't at all happy that his client seems to have felt free to do Jamie's job for him. In fact, he has a strong suspicion the letter had been sent to Professor Hallingsworth before he himself had even agreed to take the case. It left him angry and with the beginnings of a headache.
Percy had not been at all happy to see him depart, following Jamie around his rooms and nagging as he had packed. "You don't know who your client is. You do not know what his intentions are. You haven't even done research into this Professor Hallingsworth or what it might entail to be his research assistant."
Jamie had gritted his teeth while mentally acknowledging that Percy was right. The further he got into it, the more this case felt bad through and through. "I can't afford to turn it down," he'd told Percy, who had looked about as unconvinced as Jamie felt.
He looks back down at the Italian book spread open on his lap. Though he continues to try, he can't concentrate on translating it, not with so many other things weighing heavily upon his mind.
The train eventually grinds to a halt at the Cambridge station and Jamie slips the book into his overcoat pocket. He waits for most of the other passengers to leave before attempting to disembark the train, lifting himself slowly and with effort off the seat. Unfortunately, the gap between the train and the station platform is too great to navigate with his crutches.
Someone clears their throat and Jamie looks up to see a young conductor watching him. He has light brown hair that curls and a close cropped beard Jamie can't help but find appealing. "Are you in need of assistance, sir?" the young conductor asks.
Jamie can't stop the blush that engulfs his face, inwardly cursing his own weakness. Swallowing his pride, he nods. The conductor reaches up and takes the crutch Jamie offers, balancing it against the side of the train. Jamie braces one hand against his shoulder and hoists himself off the train. The young man steps back slowly until the crutch Jamie still has rests on the ground, and Jamie puts all his will behind ignoring the moment when his hand rests on Jamie's waist to balance him for a brief moment before stepping away and retrieving Jamie's crutch.
"Thank you." Jamie digs in his pocket for some money for the man's trouble, and he takes it with a smile and a nod before fetching Jamie's luggage. Jamie hails down a cabby and secures himself a carriage into the city, directing the driver to the inn where he would be lodging that night. His client scheduled his interview with the Professor Hallingsworth for the next morning.
The accommodations arranged for him are clean and adequate, if rather hard to navigate with his crutches. Jamie studiously ignores the look of horror mixed with revulsion on the face of the young lady bringing him his supper. He spends his time reading through the articles and newspaper clippings he'd managed to find regarding the college.
It isn't much really, and not the more specific information he would have liked. The college had been founded by decree of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, during the first years of her reign to further the scientific and technological work surrounding the invention of the Computative Engine, a machine that Jamie did not fully grasp the significance of.
The Computative Engine seemed to be a technological, mathematical and scientific wonder, but it touched the average citizen of the empire very little. In fact, only a very small group of scientists and mathematicians were allowed access to the engine, which was housed in the college itself. The college only permitted the best and brightest young scholars to study there and included many of the greatest minds of Britain and the Continent as faculty and visiting researchers.
That was about the total sum of what had been reported by the press. Jamie had also heard, however, that it was common belief among the masses that the College worked with her majesty's government and armed forces to create technological marvels capable of making Britain the greatest nation in the world. Every black market seller of technology in the back streets of London claimed his design originated at the college itself.
Jamie is not at all sure he believes such fanciful stories. All the same, the idea of walking into such a place and expecting to hide his true intentions is intimidating. Fiddling with his pen, he jots down a few notes regarding the college.
He retires early that night.
*~*~*
Rising quite early, Jamie takes care with his shaving, ablutions and dress. The suit and coat he picks for himself is the best he owns, a smoke grey that he feels compliments him well. He'd picked a matching grey bowler hat that he preferred over the more stylish top hat.
Washed and well groomed to appear respectable, he checks the time before making his way slowly down the narrow stairs to the street. Hailing himself a carriage, he sets off to the College of Nature and Computative Science itself.
The college is made up of a collection of impressive stone buildings, beautiful and grand, but obviously new in contrast to the older buildings all around them. Jamie gets lost three times after alighting from his carriage, but arrives in time for his interview nonetheless. After knocking and receiving no answer, he hesitates a mo
ment before letting himself in.
Jamie lowers himself onto the chair opposite the desk. The office is small, with bookshelves lining the walls, a large desk with papers neatly stacked to one side and a single chair facing it. He leans his crutches against the chair and waits.
Minutes tick by, and Jamie checks his pocket watch twice, then checks the letter his employer had sent him confirming the date and the time. He continues to wait, trying not to fidget as the room begins to feel oppressively warm and closed in. As time stretches on, Jamie begins to seriously consider leaving and returning to his lodging to think of another approach to this case.
Finally, nearly twenty minutes after his arrival, the door opens behind him and Jamie turns to see a very thin, elderly man step into the room.
"I must apologize," he begins rather stiffly, "but Professor Hallingsworth could not be roused from his laboratory this morning. Please follow me."
When he turns and heads back out of the door, Jamie stares at his retreating back for a moment in shock before clutching at his crutches and hoisting himself off the chair as quickly as possible.
The man waits as Jamie slowly follows him out of the office and through the corridor, down a flight of stone steps, which are wide with each step being unusually large, Jamie notes. The stairs look as if they had been designed to accommodate ramps, perhaps to facilitate the moving of large pieces of equipment. The doorways and halls that they pass all look quite wide too, not at all like the narrow doorways Jamie is used to navigating. It all further suggests Jamie's theory regarding moving large objects through the buildings, but for Jamie it is a piece of architectural good fortune.
They make their way down another corridor before eventually reaching a large, heavy door, which the elderly gentleman opens. Beyond it is a long, quite large stone room with a high ceiling consisting of a series of small domes.
The room is filled with numerous worktables strewn with papers, blueprints, books, gears and pieces of metal. What looks to be very small steam engine is propped against one table, with what Jamie can only guess is some complex form of clock sitting on another.
In roughly the center of the room seems to be a strange metal frame or scaffold of some sort, reaching about eight feet into the air. In the center of the scaffolding are large, thick metal disks threaded through rods and stacked to form huge, pillar-like structures. Each pillar is attached to a complex series of interlocking gears at the top and bottom of the whole machine.
"Professor Hallingsworth, your guest," the older man states dryly while Jamie tries not to gape too openly at it all.
A figure bending over a table covered in what looks to be blueprints and sketches straightens and turns. Professor Hallingsworth, Jamie sees, is rather young, not much older than Jamie himself. A little shorter than average height, with a wide, well-built frame and dark hair, he is an impressive figure.
"Thank you, Mr. Fielding," Hallingsworth says rather absently. Mr. Fielding wordlessly holds out his hands to Jamie for his hat and coat before leaving the laboratory.
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Mr.—"
"Hartgrove," Jamie reminds him smoothly, "James Hartgrove, sir."
"Yes, Mr. Hartgrove." Professor Hallingsworth smiles at him before turning back to the papers laid out on the table. "I do apologize for making you wait and bringing you out here to my workroom, but it really couldn't be helped. I am behind on these plans as it is." He trails off, frowning down at the papers on the table.
Jamie stands there awkwardly for a few moments until Professor Hallingsworth seems to suddenly realize he is still in the room.
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Hartgrove," Hallingsworth exclaims, rushing around the table and pushing several piles of books and papers off of a chair. Once cleared, he gestures for Jamie to take a seat.
Jamie makes his way over to the seat and sits while Hallingsworth goes back to his papers. Propping his crutches against the chair, Jamie notes that Hallingsworth is in his shirtsleeves, spotting a jacket casually tossed across the table next to them.
Professor Hallingsworth's sleeves have been unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows revealing strong forearms faintly dusted with light brown hair. Jamie's gaze travels to Hallingsworth's face, which is pleasantly wide, his hair dark and heavy before tapering into long side burns which run the length of his jaw, complimented by a small patch of a beard on his chin.
Hallingsworth glances up, and Jamie sees that he has wide, startlingly blue eyes. Jamie clears his throat, feeling ill at ease.
"You are looking for a research assistant, is that correct, Professor Hallingsworth?"
Hallingsworth nods, seemingly surprised, as if he'd completely forgotten the reason Jamie was there at all. "Yes, yes of course. I read your credentials, Mr. Hartgrove." Leaning against the table across from Jamie, Hallingsworth regards him intently while idly fiddling with his pocket watch and chain. "Do you have any knowledge of engineering, Mr. Hartgrove?"
"No," Jamie answers honestly, hoping Hallingsworth is not about to send him away on the spot.
"And your background in mathematics and the science?"
Jamie takes a quick breath. "I have no formal education in mathematics or science. I, however, have read fairly extensively into chemistry, botany, human and animal anatomy, and I am not a total stranger to mathematical theory, as well as having an interest in some of the newer sciences. I worked as a clerk to Professor Rolleston, who taught here, I believe. Although I was not officially his assistant, I did much coordinating and transcribing of his papers so I know a good deal about how to handle this kind of research. The time with him also gave me a working understanding of terminology, basic concepts and so on involved in mathematics, engineering and other sciences." He prays silently that is enough. It is something of a risk bringing up Professor Rolleston at all, made only slightly less so by the fact that Jamie had verified before traveling to the college that Professor Rolleston had gone to teach in rural India, obviously having not taken to retirement at all.
Hallingsworth raises his eyebrows while slowly twisting his watch chain around the fingers of his left hand. Jamie cannot discern if this is a favorable sign or not. "Most research assistants to professors at this college are students who themselves are striving to gain a higher understand of their field," Hallingsworth informs him, causing Jamie's hopes to plummet again. Hallingsworth gives him a surprisingly keen look before untwisting his watch chain from around his fingers and turning to face the metal scaffolding in the middle of the room. "What do you make of this, Mr. Hartgrove?"
"I have no idea, sir," Jamie answers honestly. This close, he can see there are series of numbers etched into the sides of each of the metal disks stacked at the center of the machine. "Is this the calculating machine housed here? Professor Rolleston spoke of it a few times."
"It is indeed, more or less." Hallingsworth walks over to it and pats one of the bars of the scaffolding. "It is a smaller model of the Computative Engine." He smiles up at the machine almost fondly. "I use it to run experiments on how to better stream-line the actual engine. I call this one Charles, after the founder of this college."
He turns back to Jamie, suddenly serious. Blinking, Jamie thinks that if he somehow does obtain this job, it might take him a while to learn to keep up with this man's rather eccentric moods.
"The work that we do here at the college," Hallingsworth gestures around himself to the cluttered workroom, "is some of the most important the world has ever known. It has the ability to build and destroy empires, to liberate the yearning masses from their desperate plight." He shakes his head and then looks hard at Jamie, as if trying to see inside of him to his very core. "It cannot be undertaken without a sense of wonder and true love for the work. It will be challenging, and I demand of all my associates that they think creatively in ways they may not be accustomed to."
Jamie nods his head, expression serious. "If I were to become your research assistant, professor, then I would do my best to live up to such a challenge
."
Hallingsworth's smile is full of inner mirth. "I like that, Mr. Hartgrove; in fact, I fancy that I shall like you quite a bit."
With that, Professor Hallingsworth returns to the sketches and blueprints on the table. Jamie sits and waits for something to happen, feeling a little awkward. Minutes go by, and all that happens is Hallingsworth mutters to himself and pulls a pencil from his waistcoat pocket to jot something across the corners of one of the sketches. As Jamie continues to wait, Hallingsworth scribbles some more.
Jamie shifts a little in his seat. "Sir?"
Hallingsworth glances up, looking surprised that Jamie's still there. "Oh, don't worry, Mr. Hartgrove." Hallingsworth waves his hand dismissively. "You're hired."
Jamie blinks at him, and bites his tongue before he asks Hallingsworth why exactly he's been hired for a job he is barely qualified for.
"As for your salary," Hallingsworth continues, "I am given a rather generous allowance to spend on my work, so how does eight pounds monthly sound to you?"
Jamie just manages to keep from gasping. It's a lot of money, more than he has ever made or ever hoped to make. If this case does not go well, he thinks dryly, perhaps he should give up private investigation and take up being a research assistant instead. "It sounds more than generous," he states faintly.
"Yes, well …" Hallingsworth straightens, apparently somewhat embarrassed, and brushes his hands down the front of his waistcoat. "I'll show you to your room."
As Hallingsworth grabs his jacket, folding it over his arm and heading for the door, Jamie scrambles for his crutches and pushes himself up to follow. He barely has time to snag his own jacket and hat from the stand by the door before following.
Hallingsworth leads the way down the hall and back up the stone stairs, waiting at the top as Jamie ascends much more slowly. Hallingsworth pushes open a door that leads to a courtyard, striding across it through another door and then along yet another corridor. Even seeing relatively little of the college, Jamie is beginning to get a feel for its overall shape. The buildings are connected to each other via short, roved walkways to make several large, hollow square shapes with a wide open green space in the center of the squares. The workshops seemed to be at each of the corners of the squares, judging from the large, double doors much like the ones that lead into Hallingsworth's own work area.
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