Page 113 of The Muse of Maiden Lane

The two of them froze. They exchanged a startled look.

A giggle escaped from Stella. She slapped a hand over her mouth.

Teddy’s cheeks dimpled in a boyish grin. “There’s no one to answer it,” he said. “Mrs. Mukherjee has gone to the market, and I sent Jennings out to purchase more tubes of paint.”

Stella moved to stand. Teddy reluctantly released her. He tugged her skirt back into order for her as she slid out of his lap.

She batted his hands away. “You’re not helping.”

“You have a wrinkle, just here.”

“It’s a pleat, you ninny.”

He caught her hand and kissed it, waiting until the last moment to release her, as she retreated to the hall. They were both grinning now like two naughty schoolchildren.

Stella gave her habit skirts another shake before opening the door.

A balding man in an ill-fitting suit stood on the threshold. He had an enormous wooden crate at his side. In the street behind him, a horse and cart were waiting, with two large men seated on the driver’s bench. Whatever was in the crate, it appeared they’d had a hand in delivering it.

“Can I help you, sir?” Stella asked.

“Is this the residence of Mr. Edward Hayes?” the man inquired. He had a distinct cockney accent.

“It is.” Stella surveyed the crate. It must have something to do with the renovations, but she couldn’t think what. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No appointment, madam, but Mr. Hayes will be expecting me.” He withdrew his card, handing it to Stella with a flourish.

She read it with interest.

Mr. Franklin Abbott, Gentleman Inventor

Her brows lifted. “May I ask what invention this might be in regard to, Mr. Abbott?”

“My patented pneumatic invalid’s chair,” the man announced proudly. “My chief investor, an esteemed gentleman who prefers to remain anonymous, did assure me that Mr. Hayes was eager to possess a prototype.”

A pneumatic invalid’s chair?

Stella stepped back. “I think you’d better come inside.”

Teddy stared in wonder at the wheeled chair that emerged from the wooden crate. It was made of gleaming polished mahogany, finished with brass, and fitted with the exact rubber-covered wheels that Mr. Hartford had described to him in the library at Sutton Park.

Stella stood beside Teddy, both of them looking over the chair as Mr. Abbott extolled the many virtues of his invention.

“It’s equipped with every comfort and convenience,” Mr. Abbott boasted. “You’ll never feel the lumps and bumps of the road. The ride is that smooth once the air is in the tires. The seat is covered in the finest leather, and the back and arms are adjustable, like so.” He demonstrated, fiddling with a series of pins and hinges. “But this is a highlight, sir. This magic lever here. The invalid can press it himself, if he has the necessary strength. Observe.” Mr. Abbott depressed the lever. Two matching brass brackets immediately descended to the wheels, locking them into place.

Teddy rolled forward in his own chair to examine the apparatus. “A hand brake,” he said in amazement. “Is that what it is?”

“Exactly, sir.”

“Is that important?” Stella asked, frowning.

“Why, it’s essential, ma’am,” Mr. Abbott said. “As Mr. Hayes can no doubt tell you. The invalid generally relies on an attendant to place him into his chair. With my invention, the invalid, with adequate strength, can now get in and out of the chair himself.”

Teddy’s pulse leapt at the possibilities. If it was true, it would mean no more Jennings in Teddy’s bedroom, helping him in and out of his bed. No more Jennings lifting Teddy onto the settee or into a parlor chair. If the wheel brakes worked—if they were truly up to the task of holding the chair steady—Teddy could hoist himself in and out using only his upper body strength.

It would mean far greater independence, not to mention privacy.

“Would you like to try it, sir?” Mr. Abbott asked.