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He nodded.
“What about pipes? Like putting hand pumps in scullery sinks?”
“Not so much. But I know a fellow who does.”
“I think we’ll need him. You understand what we mean to do?” She tapped the plan with one finger.
“Get water from the stream up to a tank in Frithgerd’s attic,” he replied with a skeptical frown. “And then down again, through a firebox, and into a tub.” He ran one finger over the requisite part of the plans as he spoke.
“Precisely.” Penelope was glad to see that he could read and understand architectural drawings. Indeed, she was impressed at his quickness.
“And that works, do you think, miss?”
It was vital not to claim more knowledge than she had. She’d learned that early on. “The designer promises that it will.”
“Architects,” said Henry Carson. He did not spit, but Penelope got the impression that in other circumstances he might have.
“Have you noticed anything that you’re certainwon’twork? In your opinion.”
He looked both thoughtful and gratified to be consulted. “Not as I can spot, miss. But as you say, this is a new sort of construction. And you never do know with these grand schemes until the roof falls on you, do you?”
She raised her eyebrows.
“They had a fancy London architect in to put a ballroom on Paine Hall,” he added. “That’s a matter of five miles from here, miss. He was dead certain he knew how to frame a dome in the center. Only he didn’t. We ended with a pile of rubble and Ron Carroll with a broken leg.”
“Oh dear.”
His nod this time was portentous. Bending over the plan, he added, “This’ll take a deal of pipe. I should start in on that. I know a cooper can make a big water tank, but the mill wheel—”
“Perhaps there’s a mill nearby where we can consult?”
“Aye.” Carson looked relieved. “Reckon the miller might know about pumps as well. Or who to ask anyway.”
“Good idea.”
He sat back. The uneasiness had reappeared in his expression. “I do think I should speak to his lordship before I go ordering a load of work.”
“Because he will be paying the bills,” said Penelope with a smile.
“Yes, miss.”
“Perfectly understandable. Why don’t we go and see him now?”
“Now?”
The thought made Penelope happy, remembering the fire in Whitfield’s gaze when she’d left him the last time. She so looked forward to igniting it again. “Why not?” She rolled up the plans and handed them to her companion.
“Perhaps I should make an appointment, miss.”
“I’m sure Lord Whitfield would like to hear about the progress we’ve made.” She gave him no time to protest but went to tell Foyle to ready the gig. Kitty was elbow deep in flour with Mrs. Hart, so Penelope drove the short distance to Frithgerd escorted by Henry Carson.
They found the viscount in the front hall, just back from the stables. He wore riding dress and looked ruddy with exercise, a figure who could take on anything. “I didn’t know you meant to come today,” he said to Penelope. His obvious appreciation at seeing her warmed her to her toes.
“We came to tell you about our construction plans. Mr. Carson and I have been discussing what needs to be done in order to put in the bath.”
Daniel nodded to Henry Carson, who had often worked at Frithgerd, but he was diverted by the animation on Miss Pendleton’s face. She positively glowed with excitement. Over pipes and pumps? Or could he hope that seeing him had some part in it? Either way, he wanted to impress her. “Drains,” he said. “People are always nagging me about drains. They seem sadly prone to stopping up or smelling. We must make certain any new drains installed work properly.”
“A good point.” Miss Pendleton jotted a few words on her ubiquitous notepad and looked at Carson to make sure he took the suggestion on board. “Have you chosen the room where the bath will be installed?”
