His face turned ashen, and he swallowed. “I was needed at home.”
He was needed, and so he’d given it up. Just like that. Thetravel, the spotlight, the music. Margaret knew what it was to have one’s life irrevocably upended, but in her case, the life-altering event had been of her own making, her own folly, and afterward she’d no choice but to live with the consequences. She could only imagine how much more difficult it must’ve been for Mr. Noble.
He, like her parents, had his life overturned through no fault of his own. He, like her parents, had endured the trauma of watching a loved one suffer. And he, like her parents, had chosen to sacrifice his way of life to care for someone else.
“I trust you’ll not speak of this to anyone. I’d prefer to maintain my family’s privacy.”
“Of course, you’ve my word. Although, if you don’t mind my asking, what have you been doing all this time? You previously indicated you’d not been employed here long.”
“Indeed, my position with Alvan T. Harrison, Incorporated, is new and temporary. I’ve just been hired to coordinate the anniversary gala. Then I plan to return to the law offices of Bailey, Barton, and Westland, where I’ve been a secretary these last five years. That’s actually where Mr. Harrison and I crossed paths. The job allows me to work near home and care for Father in the evenings, so my mother can rest.”
After working a full day, he served as his father’s caretaker at night? Just as Mama had cared for her all these years. As she cared for her still. “Do you regret it?” The question escaped before she thought better of it.
“Coming to work for Harrison?”
“Giving up your music. Your former way of life. Do you regret the sacrifice?” Did her parents? Did their hearts secretly harbor resentment the way hers secretly harbored guilt?
“One makes sacrifices for what one loves, and I love my family. They gave me the opportunity to enjoy a career in music, and for their sake, I willingly laid my music down. I’ve no regrets or resentments. I’d do it all over again.”
Margaret ached to weep, but her eyes remained dry. Perhaps there was hope her parents felt the same. “You still play for pleasure at least, surely?” His talent shouldn’t be left to rust.
“No, I, uh ... I sold my piano. The Steinway covered the remaining costs of my brother’s education at university. Benjamin. He graduated with a bachelor’s degree in law—top of his class—and has been attending the Inns of Court these last three years. We expect he’ll be called to the bar this year.” A proud smile whisked over Mr. Noble’s face, brief and fleeting, blown away by a chill of solemnity. “Father’s stroke gave me perspective on what really matters. I can’t in good conscience waste valuable resources on something as frivolous as music when my family has real needs that must be met.” A slight tremor disturbed Mr. Noble’s hand, and he shoved it in a trouser pocket.
Sympathy welled within Margaret. A change of subject seemed in order. “Next week, I’ll need to spend some time at the patent office. While I’m otherwise engaged, could you discreetly ascertain whether any of the inventors on staff were acquainted with Dawkins? I’d like to question them, if we can contrive a way to do so without raising suspicions.”
“Of course. I’ll have that information waiting upon your return.”
Of course he would. The man was efficient, diligent, and reliable. He offered help without hesitation and sacrifice without resentment. The better question was how much should Margaret ask of him moving forward in her investigation, now knowing how much he already gave of himself, night and day, to so many. Yes, Mr. Noble had agreed to be her covert asset, but the more she got to know him ... the more he felt like a friend.
And the more she feared becoming a burden to the man who already bore so much.
Chapter
23
July8, 1895
He was a fool.A foolish sap with rosy-hued spectacles.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Charles groaned. It was never a good sign when Benjamin’s voice took to bantering with his thoughts of self-deprecation. He shook his head and resumed pacing outside the Invention Factory, where he’d been awaiting Lady Margaret’s arrival these past ten minutes. By the looks of him, one would think the woman was running late. Never mind that their appointment wasn’t for another five minutes, and Lady Margaret was always punctual. He just couldn’t abide staying indoors. Not when Reverie was expected.
Hector Berlioz, how he’d missed her! Fool that he was, Charles had spent the entire week reflexively looking for Lady Margaret when the clock struck two. One day, he’d even taken the elevator, only to recall as the doors opened on the main floor that she wasn’t there for him to greet. After finalizing his selections for the gala displays, he’d wanted toshow her every invention, curious if they’d make her smile or laugh or light up with wonder. He’d wanted to know how her investigation progressed. See her. Be with her. A desire that only increased as he came to know her better. After discovering they’d both been at theSwan Lakepremiere, Charles couldn’t help but wonder if her presence in his life was fortuitous.
To think, while he’d been warming up with the other musicians, she’d been in the audience! Could their meeting again be more than serendipity? Might he dare hope it was an occurrence of providential orchestration?
Foolish sap with rosy-hued spectacles.
Charles kicked a piece of gravel.Shut up, little brother!
The crunch of approaching carriage wheels set his heartbeat to playing in staccato. Charles raked fingers through his hair. Straightened his tie. Brushed nonexistent lint from his jacket.Keep calm and quit fidgeting, man. She’ll think you have fleas.He stilled as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the factory. Soon, though not nearly soon enough, Lady Margaret was poised in her wheeled chair, smiling at him as the carriage clattered back up the gravel drive.
Leaving them quite alone. Heat poured over Charles’ face and neck, and he resisted the urge to tug at his collar. “It’s good to see you, Miss Knight. I hope your week has been productive.”
“Indeed, it has, thanks to a little help from my friends. Though the results were not wholly as expected.” From a pocket of her flowing blue gown, Lady Margaret withdrew the notebook he’d grown accustomed to seeing with her on her visits. She flipped through it and indicated a particular page with a point of her forefinger.
Charles took the proffered notebook. It was the list of inventions attributed to J.Dawkins, the ones she’d intended to cross-reference with rejected applications at the patentoffice. Beside each invention had been added a crisp check mark. His eyes widened at the implication. “All?”
Reclaiming her book, Lady Margaret nodded. “All.”
