Chapter 21
“Ah, Norman, there you are, darling. Had a nice run, did you?”
Norman used the tail of his shirt to blot his dripping face, turning to find his mother advancing toward the carriage house, determination in her every step, something that had him shuddering ever so slightly. Forcing a smile, he nodded. “It was a nice run, Mother, although it wasn’t as peaceful as I would have liked, not with Agent Cochran wheezing so much as he ran beside me.”
Mary drew to a stop beside Norman, looked around, then frowned. “Where is Agent Cochran?”
“I left him by the front fountain. He was in desperate need of a rest, so last I saw of him, he was sticking his bare feet in the water, looking quite as if he was about ready to toss up his accounts.”
“I do hope he doesn’t toss up those accounts directly into the fountain. That would be most unpleasant.”
“Indeed, although he wouldn’t be in that danger if he’d taken my suggestion of changing out of his clothes and making use of the running attire I offered to lend him after he insisted on accompanying me on my morning run. What I offered is much cooler than what he was wearing and more appropriate to run in.”
“You’re not wearing running attire, dear.” Mary gestured to his clothing. “You’re wearing what’s known as bathing attire, complete with a striped sleeveless shirt, which one normally expects to see a gentleman wearing when he’s at the beach, not running down Prairie Avenue.”
“True, but bathing attire is far more comfortable than the trousers and tight shirts some gentlemen wear when they participate in strenuous activity. And even bathing attire isn’t as comfortable as the short pants I tried out, something you insisted I abandon before I made it past the main house.”
“Those short trousers showed entirely too much of you.”
“So you said, and quite adamantly. That is exactly why I abandoned them, not wanting you to suffer a fit of the vapors every morning when you glimpsed me running—well, that and I didn’t care to suffer through lectures from you over breakfast.”
“I rarely lecture you.”
“You do, as can be proven by how often you bring up the need for a Pinkerton man to dog my every step, even though I’ve stated time and time again that I don’t need one. It’s not as if the culprit behind the theft of my research papers has had enough time to figure out he’s in possession of faulty information, nor do I expect him to come to that realization for months.”
“You were accosted on the street only a few days ago.”
“Perhaps, although I’m convinced I was simply the target of an inept pickpocket.” He dashed a hand over a forehead that was still perspiring. “However, because I know you’ll fret if I insist on getting rid of the Pinkerton men, I’ll let them continue following me for now, even if I do feel it’s a waste of their time and your money.”
“That’s surprisingly thoughtful of you dear.”
Norman frowned. “Why is it surprising?”
Mary returned the frown. “Why would I not be surprised? You’ve never been one to concern yourself with how much I fret about you.”
“Of course I have.”
“No, you haven’t, but your surprising thoughtfulness aside, I do have a reason for seeking you out.”
Refusing a groan, Norman pulled out his pocket watch, took note of the time, and tried not to smile. Returning the watch to his pocket, he nodded to his mother. “And while I would love nothing more than to engage in a discussion with you, Theo will be here within the next ten minutes to pick me up. We’re going to the factory to fetch some steel to begin building that peddle-boat for Gemma and Oscar. Can’t very well show up at one of our factories in bathing attire, can I?”
“We can hold our discussion while you’re getting changed.”
Realizing there was no sense arguing because his mother was clearly not going to be put off, Norman blew out a breath before he took his mother’s arm, walking with her through his workshop, then up the steps to his apartment. Opening the door, he gestured her inside. Mary settled her attention on him the moment they reached his sitting room.
“I recently had a lovely chat with Mrs. Martin Tripp” was how she started their discussion.
“Who?”
“Mrs. Tripp, one of the ladies with whom I play whist every Thursday. She has a daughter who made her debut last year, a lovely young lady by the name of Blossom, and, as it turns out, Blossom is in need of an escort to the Palmer Ball.”
“I’m already escorting someone to the ball, Mother, as you very well know.”
Mary waved that aside. “A girl from Marshall Field & Company is not an appropriate guest.”
“Beatrix is completely appropriate, and besides, it would hardly be acceptable for me to renege on my promise to escort her.” He smiled. “You did insist I take all those decorum lessons in my youth, and I well remember the rule that states ‘gentlemen shall not beg off a planned engagement unless a death has occurred.’”
“But Blossom is a most lovely girl.”
“So is Beatrix.”
Mary’s gaze sharpened on Norman’s face. “You believe this Beatrix is lovely?”
“I think it’s time I get changed before Theo shows up.”
“Fine” was all his mother said to that as she spun on her heel. “I’ll just occupy myself by tidying up this place until you’re done. I thought you said you’d already put your sitting room to rights after the disaster it was when you had all those clothes strewn about, but evidently I misheard you.”
Norman cast a quick look around the room, the hair standing up on the back of his neck when his gaze settled on Theo’s fashion magazines, ones he’d stacked on a table but were now scattered about, a few of them having fallen to the floor.
He didn’t hesitate to take a firm grip of his mother’s arm before he hustled her toward the door.
“What are you doing?” Mary demanded.
He didn’t slow his pace. “Someone’s been in here, Mother, because this room was perfectly tidy when I left for my run. That means there is some skullduggery afoot, and I may have use of those Pinkerton men after all.”
Three hours after learning someone had snuck into his rooms—in broad daylight no less—tossed his belongings about, and then managed to escape undetected, Norman still couldn’t seem to puzzle out the incident to satisfaction.
Yes, there were many men he’d met while in New York who’d been overtly interested in his research and had wanted to either work with him or buy his research outright, but not one of them had seemed to possess the intellect needed to have been able to realize so quickly that he’d altered the research he’d left behind after the train heist.
That whoever responsible was willing to resort to breaking into his home lent the whole affair a rather desperate air.
The only consolation he had was that Agent Cochran was convinced the person was no longer on his mother’s property, having discovered horse tracks some distance away from Norman’s workshop. Those tracks suggested the would-be thief had left a horse hidden behind some bushes and had used that horse to make a stealthy departure before Norman returned from his run.
Clearly, that person had been keeping a close eye on Norman, which meant Norman was going to have to make an effort to deviate from his normal schedule in the hopes of thwarting any new plans the potential thieves had in mind.
Using a wrench to twist a bolt into place, he crawled out from underneath a generator at the Nesbit Steel Factory, realizing his attempt at distracting himself from the troubling situation at hand had not been as successful as he’d hoped, not with how furious he still was.
His mother could have happened upon the criminal, or criminals, at any time, or . . . Gemma and Oscar could have happened upon them while scavenging about in his workshop, a thought that had his fury level rising exponentially.
Because whoever had tried to locate that research had been unsuccessful that morning, as his papers were still safely stowed away in a safe he’d created to look like an abandoned washing machine, that meant there would certainly be additional attempts to locate his papers. His mother had grasped that point immediately, which was why she’d already hired more Pinkerton men to guard not only him, but also to guard her property.
Those Pinkerton agents had arrived promptly after receiving the note Agent Cochran sent them, and their presence was the only reason Norman had felt comfortable leaving his home—that, and his mother had plans for the afternoon and wouldn’t be at home anyway.
After rising to his feet, Norman accepted a towel from Mr. Daniel Batchelor, an engineer at Nesbit Steel Factory, and began wiping the grease from his hands. Attempting to push his disturbing thoughts aside, knowing they’d come barreling back to torment him soon enough, he nodded to Daniel. “I rerouted some circuits and found a few breaks in the cables. I took care of those, and as soon as Miss Robinson returns with that magnetized ring I told you about, I’ll install that and the generator should work more efficiently.”
“Sure do appreciate it,” Daniel said. “This particular generator fails about three times a week, forcing us to shut down some areas of production while we get it up and running again.”
Norman frowned. “Do you frequently encounter difficulties with the machines?”
“Every single one of them has their problems, but your father and brother have numerous engineers such as myself on the job, so we’re always able to get operations up and running again.” Daniel shrugged. “Just takes a lot of time throughout the week.”
“What seems to be the problem now?” a voice called from behind Norman.
Turning, Norman found his older brother, Stanley, striding his way, coming to a stop directly in front of Daniel. Stanley shot a look to Norman, frowned for all of a second, then his mouth dropped open. “Norman, I didn’t recognize you at first. Where’s your hair?”
A touch of the anger still lingering in Norman’s veins faded as he stepped forward and shook his brother’s hand. “I left a great deal of it behind at the barber shop.”
“It’s about time. What are you doing here?”
“I dropped by the factory to pick up some steel to use for a peddle-boat that Gemma, Oscar, Theo, and I are in the process of making.” Norman glanced to Daniel. “But then I came across Daniel, and he told me about the generator. Because I welcomed the distraction, I figured I might as well have a look.”
“Distraction from what?”
“Long story.” Norman nodded to the generator in question. “I recalibrated a few things, which should see it performing better, and after Theo brings me a certain part, I’ll get that installed and that’ll have the generator up and—”
“Theodosia’s here?” Stanley interrupted, glancing around as he raised a hand and took to smoothing down his hair.
“Not presently. She’s gone off to get a part, but she’ll be back directly.”
“Ah, so she drove you here?”
“No, I came with Mort, but Theo drove her wagon beside us.”
Stanley blinked. “Who’s Mort?”
Norman shrugged. “That’s a long story as well, but what are you doing on the factory floor? I thought you usually spent the afternoons in your office, going over orders.”
Stanley blew out a breath. “Seems to me as if you and I have quite a few things to catch up on. Let’s go to my office so we can exchange stories in a quieter setting.”
Finding that to be an excellent suggestion, Norman nodded before he turned to Daniel. “Would you send Miss Robinson up to Stanley’s office when she returns?”
“Certainly,” Daniel said, returning the nod. He then nodded to Stanley before he walked away.
Falling into step beside his brother, Norman moved across the factory floor and up a flight of stairs. Walking into Stanley’s office, he took a seat on a chair that had seen better days as Stanley closed the door.
After taking a seat behind a desk brimming with paperwork, Stanley considered Norman for a long moment before he shook his head. “Mother’s been saying for a few weeks now that there’s something the matter with you, and I have to say, given that you just took it upon yourself to fix a generator, she might be right.”
“Nothing’s the matter with me, and I’m sure I’ve fixed a machine here or there for you.”
“No, you haven’t.”
Norman frowned when not a single instance sprang to mind where he’d fixed anything at any of the factories his family owned. “I feel I must beg your forgiveness for that lapse because it’s inexcusable that I’ve never offered to help before.”
Concern flickered through Stanley’s eyes. “You’re dying, aren’t you?”
“I’m not dying.”
“Then you’ve lost all your money, and this is your way of buttering me up to extend you a loan.”
“Don’t be insulting. My wealth has increased tenfold this year through investments I made with the Standard Oil company.”
Stanley frowned. “You make investments?”
“Of course I do. I take an hour every week to scan the stock market, then purchase stocks I believe are going to trend well.”
“And you are successful with your investments?”
“I just told you I’ve increased my fortune tenfold this year alone.”
Something that looked very much like disgruntlement flickered over Stanley’s face. “Is that why you didn’t want me to invest your money years ago, after you came into your trust from Grandfather Nesbit?”
“Yes, but I would have thought you knew that from the moment I declined your offer.”
“How could I have possibly known that?”
Norman began drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair, until he remembered Beatrix telling him that particular habit was annoying to others. “Why do I get the impression that you’ve been annoyed with me for quite some time about this?”
“Because it was annoying, especially because you never bothered to explain to me why you were declining my offer. I thought you were being arrogant.”
“Arrogant?”
Stanley nodded. “You’ve never been keen to accept advice or assistance from anyone, which I’ve always thought was driven by intellectual arrogance.”
“Huh” was all Norman could think to respond to that as truth suddenly hit him from out of nowhere. “I do wish I could deny that, but I’m afraid you’re right, which means I owe you an apology for being arrogant as well as for annoying you.”
“Should I take that as an apology for all the times you’ve annoyed me?”
Norman blinked. “I’ve annoyed you often?”
“You’re my younger brother, Norman. Of course you’ve annoyed me often.”
“Would you find me less annoying if I offer to make some investments on your behalf? I seem to be more than adept at increasing fortunes.”
“There really is something dreadfully wrong with you, isn’t there?”
“Nothing is wrong with me.”
Stanley ignored that. “Have you blown something up recently and suffered a concussed head?”
“I haven’t blown up anything for a few months now, having set aside some of my more volatile experiments after Theo lost a great deal of her hair and part of an eyebrow when an experiment went rather wrong.”
“What could you have possibly been doing that caused Theodosia to lose her hair and an eyebrow?”
“We were trying to improve upon Ludwig Boltzmann’s theory about statistical derivations of physical and chemical concepts, especially entropy and the distribution of molecular velocities in the gas phase, which . . .” Norman trailed off when he noticed his brother looking a bit glassy-eyed. “But forgive me. I’ve recently been told I come across as a complete bore when I start pontificating on my experiments or research. Allow me to say that our experiment involved gas, but we misjudged the heat we were using, and it, well, blew up, taking Theo’s hair with it.”
Stanley sat forward. “Someone actually told you that you’re a bore?”
“In great detail.”
The corners of Stanley’s lips twitched. “I don’t imagine anyone has ever told you that before.”
“It was a novel experience, but upon further reflection, I came to the realization that I am a bore at times. That point was further driven home when I was reading The Gentlemen’s Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness by Cecil B. Hartley. He wrote, and I’m paraphrasing here, that a gentleman must never speak of his own business or profession, because to confine the conversation to the subject or pursuit of one’s own specialty is considered vulgar.”
“You’ve read a book on gentlemen’s etiquette?”
“I’ve read several, all of which seem to agree that a gentleman should not flaunt his intelligence and instead adopt a more modest air, which will allow those around him to feel free to converse about any number of subjects without fearing their own intellects may be thrown into question.”
Stanley regarded Norman for a long moment, an odd look in his eyes, before he picked up a pen and began twirling it around. “You reading etiquette books can only mean one thing. . . . You’ve finally decided to court Theodosia.”
“What?”
“Theodosia. You’ve finally realized her worth and have decided to court her.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Theo and I will never be anything other than friends.”
Stanley blinked. “But I thought . . .”
“You thought what?” Norman pressed when Stanley stopped talking.
“I thought the two of you would eventually settle down together because she’s the only woman you ever spend any time with.”
“Theo and I are far too similar to ever want to settle down together.” Norman caught his brother’s eye. “But why are you asking about my relationship with Theo?”
Something odd once again flickered through Stanley’s eyes before he smiled and shrugged. “Shouldn’t I be interested in my brother’s friends?”
“I find your interest rather curious.”
Stanley waved that aside. “It’s not curious at all, but speaking of curious, I’m curious as to whether or not you’re taking Theodosia to the Palmer ball.”
“She’s going with Harvey Cabot.”
“Harvey Cabot?” Stanley got up from his chair and started pacing around the room. “He’s a bounder of the worst sort, flitting from one lady to another with little thought to the trail of broken hearts he leaves behind. Why would Theodosia want to go to the ball with him?”
“I believe because he asked her. Her father threw his full support behind the invitation.”
“Harvey’s a lazy, spoiled man who lacks ambition and—” Stanley stopped walking and peered at Norman. “Do you think Theodosia holds Harvey in high regard?”
“I think she may have been flattered that he was showing an interest in her, until she witnessed him behaving rudely to Beatrix at Marshall Field & Company the other day.”
The moment he realized he’d spoken Beatrix’s name out loud, Norman knew he’d made a grave mistake because Stanley’s gaze sharpened on him and he immediately pulled a chair directly in front of Norman and sat down. Fifteen minutes later, after one of the most intense interrogations Norman could remember, Stanley leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
“So let me see if I have this correct. You and Theo have taken it upon yourselves to research how to impress a lady through fashion magazines and etiquette books?”
“We have, and I have to say, I’ve been rather surprised with how much information is out there about the matter. Some of it is very insightful.”
Stanley frowned. “And has that Mort you mentioned earlier been helping you with this research project as well?”
“I haven’t had an opportunity yet to see if Mort will be beneficial to the project or not.”
“You’re going to have to explain that more sufficiently.”
Norman smiled. “I suppose that was rather vague. But you see, Mort, I’m sure you’ll be surprised to hear, isn’t a gentleman. He’s more along the lines of a noble steed.”
“You’ve purchased a horse?”
“Mort’s a mule.”
Stanley blinked. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a mule being called a noble steed.”
Norman’s lips began to curve. “I’m sure you haven’t, but I find that calling Mort a noble steed is amusing, especially since it seems to aggravate Theo.” He shook his head. “She’s the one who insisted I acquire a noble steed in the first place. Apparently, she realized that every romance book she’s taken to reading of late—done so for pure scientific research, of course—has the hero riding a noble steed. That’s what convinced her I needed to get one, and no amount of arguing on my part would change her mind.”
“You could have refused.”
“Don’t think I didn’t consider that. But what you might not know about Theo is this—she’s relentless when she gets an idea in her head and wouldn’t stop pestering me about acquiring a horse. She even tracked down a horse auction being held at the Washington Park Club and immediately began pestering me to attend. Since her pestering was making it very difficult to work on the design plans for Gemma’s peddle-boat, I agreed to attend the auction—not that I agreed to purchase a horse there, mind you, but merely agreed in order to stop the incessant badgering.”
“A horse auction would have been filled with horses—an animal you detest.”
“I’ve recently read that a gentleman should be possessed of a brave and adventurous spirit, something Theo pointed out in the midst of her badgering.”
“I . . . see.”
“The skepticism in your tone suggests you don’t see at all, and even though being surrounded by so many horses left me uneasy, that feeling disappeared straightaway the moment I laid eyes on Mort.”
“The mule?”
Norman nodded. “He was standing some distance from all the horses, and he looked so out of place that I found myself drawn to him. One look into his sad, dejected eyes, and I knew he was the noble steed for me.” Norman smiled. “Mort’s a peculiar animal, and I found it rather fitting that I, a gentleman known to be peculiar as well, would acquire a peculiar mode of transportation.”
“You’ve ridden this mule?”
Norman nodded. “Tossed up my accounts the first two times I took him around the block because he didn’t have an even gait. That’s since been resolved because Mort only needed to become adjusted to someone riding him, and now I’m quite convinced we make a fine sight as we amble along.”
Stanley sat forward and shook his head. “I never thought you’d ride again, which means this Beatrix must be of great importance to you, especially since it’s becoming abundantly clear you’re going to extreme measures to try to impress her.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m going to extreme measures.”
“You’re riding a mule about town. I’d say that’s fairly extreme.” Stanley caught Norman’s eye. “Are you, by chance, taking her to the Palmer affair?”
“I am.”
“And does anyone know that?”
“Theo and Constance do. Mother too.”
Stanley’s eyes widened. “Bet that was an uncomfortable discussion for you since Mother was overwrought when you started bringing Theodosia to society events, but a salesgirl, well, I suspect she was downright apoplectic.”
Norman winced. “She didn’t reach the apoplectic stage, but she did take to lecturing me over the danger of becoming involved with a woman not of our station, concerned that Beatrix was only interested in me because of my money.” He blew out a breath. “I thought that would be the end of it, but then Mother tracked me down earlier today to continue trying to discourage me in regard to Beatrix.”
“I take it she wasn’t successful with that?”
“She didn’t have the opportunity to claim success, not after I realized someone had tried to burglar my rooms while Mother was still attempting to make me see matters her way.”
Stanley sat forward in his chair. “Someone tried to burglar your rooms and you’re only now getting around to telling me that?”
It took another ten minutes to explain that situation to his brother. “So now I have no choice but to accept that someone is still out to steal my papers,” he finally finished. “Which has, unfortunately, brought danger to the front door of the family.”
Stanley narrowed his eyes. “That does seem to be the case, but if there’s such a threat, why in the world did you send Theodosia back to your workshop to fetch a part for one of the machines? She could even now be in real danger, which means—” Stanley got up and bolted for the door, disappearing a second later.
Before Norman could even get out of his chair, or contemplate to satisfaction why Stanley seemed to be bringing Theo into the conversation so often, he heard Theo’s voice drift through the doorway, followed by a very un-Theo-like giggle, proving that she’d not encountered any danger. Although, given the giggle, he might be wrong about that.