Charles whirled about with a start, almost knocking the beaker over in his haste. She was here. Lady Margaret. Perched on her wheeled chair in a flowing gown of blue.
“Mr. Noble, are you well?”
Yes. No. He could hardly breathe. He dug his nails into his palms as much to jar himself from mental paralysis as to steady the slight tremor in his hands. “Q-quite well, th-thank you, Miss Knight.” Confound his stutter. At least he’d remembered to use her assumed name. “May I interest you in some tea?” He gestured toward the tray on his desk, arranged with a steaming pot, creamer, sugar bowl, a pair of cups, and the rose standing tall in its beaker vase.
Lady Margaret barely glanced at the desk. “You are kind, but I’m eager to set about my work.”
She seemed to not even notice the rose. No brightening of the eye or a lightening of the countenance. Interesting. Charles clasped his hands behind his back. Apparently Lady Margaret had no interest in flowers, which begged the question, where did the woman’s interest lie? “As you wish. How would you care to proceed?”
Wheeling herself farther into the office, Lady Margaret lowered her voice. “First and foremost, I need to examine the entirety of the factory’s patent records. I see you’ve removed the boxes from your office.”
“I needed the additional space. Westminster Hall has not yet been made available to us, so I was forced to audition prospective musicians for the anniversary gala here in my office. I can bring the boxes here as needed, or we can simply venture down to the records room.”
“Which location would provide us with the most privacy?”
Heat crept up his neck.Professionalism, utmost professionalism.“The records room, I should think. It’s in the basement, and therefore more removed from the factory’s daily operations.”
“Excellent. Let’s conduct the search there then. Since I assume you still need to peruse the records yourself for the gala displays, that will provide us with a plausible reason for our activities, should we chance to be discovered. Oh, I almost forgot. ... At some point, I shall require you to retrieve a personnel file for an inventor by the name of J.Dawkins.”
Ah yes, the only other person on her list of suspects. “That can be arranged. Shall we proceed to the lift, Miss Knight?”
“Indeed.” Twirling her chair about, Lady Margaret led the way out of his office. Below on the main factory floor, the background noise of machines kept time with a steady percussive rhythm of clanking and whirring. As they waited for the lift, she spoke up over the din. “Actually, Mr. Noble, I was just wondering ... since we’re taking the lift anyway, might it be possible for us to take a quick detour ... all the way to the top floor? Just once. For fun.” Biting her lower lip, she blinked thrice in quick succession.
The action set those dark lashes of hers to fluttering and Charles’ heart to staggering against his rib cage.Johann Pachelbel!He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, stalling as he attempted to recover his senses. Heat singed his ears even as a smile tugged the corner of his mouth. “If that is your wish, it will be my pleasure to oblige.” Just then the doors whooshed open. “Shall we?”
Allowing Lady Margaret to precede him, they boarded the steam-powered lift. The doors shut without a sound, and Charles pressed the button for the top floor, which lit upon his touch. With a muffled hiss, the machine began its ascent, a motion that caused a rather disorienting sensation in his stomach. He grasped a nearby brass rail for balance. He hoped the motion of the lift didn’t cause Lady Margaret any discomfort.
Glancing to his left, he found Lady Margaret positivelyaglow. A radiant smile illuminated her entire countenance and golden flecks dazzled in her green eyes as she stared at the elevator with unabashed awe, as though she’d never ridden one before, which he knew wasn’t the case since she’d visited his second-floor office on a previous occasion. It seemed machinery and tinkering weren’t mere tasks for Lady Margaret. They sparked wonder in her soul.
The machine settled at the tenth level, and the double doors opened to a vacant corridor. Lady Margaret remained transfixed by the control panel. Charles leaned against the brass rail, captivated by her captivation. “Shall we proceed to the records room ... or would you care to ride the lift once more? Bottom to top and back again? For fun.”
Lady Margaret looked at him as though he’d just offered to lasso the very moon for her. “Could we, truly?”
If she kept looking at him that way, he might very well make this elevator his permanent residence. Sweeping a hand across the elevator’s control panel, Charles pressed every single button until the lot of them glowed. Lady Margaret gasped as the doors closed and then started laughing as the lift began its descent, warming Charles through with her contagious wonderment.
“Do all machines fascinate you so, or is your interest specific to elevators?”
“I’m fascinated by any number of mechanical innovations, from elevators to eggbeaters.”
“Why?”
“Why?” She echoed the question with confusion as the doors opened to another vacant hallway and then shut again. “Do you not find it interesting how a myriad of tiny parts can come together to create a cohesive whole? How every intricate piece is vital to a machine’s ability to function? Mechanical inventions, in a finite way, reflect God’s infinite creativity and perfect order. As my papa always says, ‘There are no spareparts in the Mighty Machinist’s workshop. Every piece, every person, is made with a divine purpose.’”
When the door opened to the factory’s main floor, a nearby begoggled inventor in the midst of welding something glanced at Lady Margaret and tossed a smirk at Charles before the elevator doors closed again. No doubt the men would be gossiping about him later. But at the moment, he didn’t much care. Great was his enjoyment of Lady Margaret’s company. “Your father is a machinist, then?”
“Of sorts ... Papa’s always had a special knack for fixing things.”
“Was it he who sparked your interest in machines?”
“He certainly nurtured that interest. For as long as I can remember, my parents encouraged me to be curious. To take chances, make mistakes, get messy ... without fear of reprimand. As a child, I was urged to never stop learning. Never cease exploring.”
“What a wonderful way to be raised.”
“Indeed. Although ... looking back, there were a few times when following the whims of my curiosity led me straight into trouble.” The glow of her countenance dimmed ever so slightly as the door opened upon the basement level and then shut once more.
Now his own curiosity was piqued. Charles took his time pressing each of the ten buttons once more. “I can’t imagine you getting into trouble,MissKnight.” His emphasis of the lady inspector’s alias was rewarded with an arched eyebrow as the elevator ascended.
“As you’ve recently learned, sir, first impressions can be misleading. I’ll have you know, I’m responsible for giving my parents the biggest frights of their lives. The lesser of the two being in ’67 when, as a tot of two, I disappeared at the Paris International Exhibition.”
