“Yes, indeed. You’ve timed it well.” She needed to get her mind back into its usual rut—no, it wasn’t a rut. Dealing with the household was her normal and rightful occupation. Poking at inventions in the workshop was merely a temporary, if necessary, distraction and would never amount to anything more. “Come to the sitting room.” She gestured to the door across the hall and led the way.
She and Mrs. Reilly settled in the sitting room and spent a comfortable half hour discussing menus and recipes. Somewhat to her surprise, Felicia found her mind drifting... Disconcerted, she hauled it back and focused firmly on the task before her.
Subsequently, determined to keep her mind on matters domestic, she went down to the kitchen to check with Cook regarding the bounty currently issuing from the kitchen garden and was taken by that worthy on an inspection of the beds burgeoning with summer vegetables.
They returned to the house with just half an hour to spare before luncheon. Felicia spent the minutes with Flora in the drawing room, idly sharing views on the information Flora’s wide-ranging correspondents had recently reported, while inwardly, Felicia wondered how matters were progressing below stairs.
Somewhat to everyone’s surprise, Rand and William John responded to the first striking of the luncheon gong. They ambled in, smiles on their faces—and Felicia found herself smiling back.
William John dropped into his chair and beamed at her. “Putting in those extra cogs has done the trick!” He included Rand with his gaze. “We’re nearly there!”
“Don’t get too excited yet,” Rand advised, but he continued to smile. As he took his seat, he said to Felicia, “As you suggested, William John has concentrated on making the gears work properly first, before he endeavors to adjust the controls.”
“Mind you,” William John said, helping himself to the platter of pickled vegetables Felicia had handed him, “I’m increasingly certain we’ll have yet more to do to get the controls to precisely how we want them—we’ll see once I put the modifications we discussed in place. However”—his beaming smile returned—“I still say we’re almost there.” He met Felicia’s eyes, then looked at Rand. “We will get everything done in time.”
Her expression mild, Flora glanced from one to the other. “How many days remain before this exhibition you and the invention have to be at?”
Rand replied, “We have ten days until the day of the exhibition. However, we’ll lose two of those traveling t
o Birmingham.” He paused, then, his gaze meeting Felicia’s, said, “We have until the morning of next Thursday to have the Throgmorton Steam-Powered Horseless Carriage assembled and running perfectly. That reminds me.” He looked at William John. “What about the carriage itself?”
William John swallowed and waved toward the stable. “It’s deep in the stable and properly covered. We can wheel it out when we’re ready.”
Rand paused.
Imagining what he was thinking, Felicia inquired, “How long is it since you’ve cleaned the carriage?”
William John frowned. “A few months...” After a moment, he grimaced. “Six months at least.”
“Hmm. I believe we should have the covers off, and I can send the Reilly girls”—to Rand, she explained—“our maids, to clean and polish it.” She refocused on William John. “Are there any moving parts they need to be wary of?”
He shook his head. “No, just the wheels, and the brake will be on. They can wipe and polish to their hearts’ content. Once they have the covers off, I’ll come and take a look, just to be certain there’s nothing amiss.” He glanced at Rand. “You’ll want to see it, too.”
Rand nodded. “If there’s anything that needs fixing or adjusting to get the carriage ready for the exhibition, we should get that done.”
William John grinned. “All the better to have everything ready to go the instant we have the engine fully adjusted and working perfectly.” He smiled at them all. “I can feel it in my bones—we’re nearly done!”
To her surprise, Felicia felt herself react to her brother’s rousing words—felt her heart surge with anticipation and pride.
Inventing was proving even more addictive than she’d thought it would be.
With the others, she pushed back from the table and rose. At last, Papa, I understand.
* * *
The following days passed in a blur of activity. Felicia moved her meetings with Mrs. Reilly to later in the morning to accommodate William John and Rand’s continuing requests for her assistance in the workshop—their urgings for her to bring her mind downstairs and apply it to the latest glitch in the engine’s systems.
To her abiding amazement, she continued to find interacting with her brother, following his lines of thought and catching where he went wrong, challenging in an intriguing and satisfying way. Even though it might take her a few hours, invariably, her mind supplied a way around whatever obstacle William John had encountered.
Rand sat and watched and quietly encouraged—if the pair of them faltered, he would pose a question, starting them off again. To her, he was a necessary catalyst—one who lent the spark that fired her resolve, and that, in turn, drove her to find the way over or around the next hurdle.
During those hours in the workshop, the three of them merged into a highly effective team.
And when William John made an adjustment she’d suggested and it worked...the thrill of pleasure that coursed through her was worth every iota of effort; the effect only grew stronger and more intense as the days rolled on.
She’d told Rand truly; if her father had encouraged her to become involved, even if only tangentially, in his inventions, she would have understood his and William John’s obsession and would have viewed their behavior in more tolerant and supportive vein.
Nevertheless, contributing or not, she would have remained the practical one—the one who ensured the household ran smoothly around the laboratory-workshop. But her view of the workshop would have—and, indeed, had—changed; she now saw that space and what went on in it as an integral part of life at the Hall and not as an offshoot to be endured and otherwise deplored.