Why could she not want to marry her cousin? There might not be romance between them, but there was certainly love, the generous sort that was based on kindness, friendship, and trust.
Well, why not marry Adam? He had offered for her, albeit casually. Antonia had never seen any sign that her cousin had a romantic bone in his body. Perhaps his ideal of marriage was the kind of comfortable friendship that existed between them. If her own concept of romantic love was unattainable, better to try for what was possible.
It was too soon to think of marrying anyone else. The image of Simon was too vivid, the pain too deep. But perhaps later . . .
It never occurred to Antonia that Adam’s offer of marriage might no longer be open.
Chapter Six
Antonia made no attempt to confide in her companion about the circumstances that had ended her betrothal. After she and Adam returned from her escape to the hills, she had been relentlessly cheerful with everyone. Only her deeply shadowed eyes revealing her unhappiness. It hurt Judith to watch her.
By mutual agreement, Judith and Adam did not announce their engagement. It would seem like a cruel flaunting of their happiness when Antonia was so miserable.
The only comfort Antonia seemed to find was in her cousin’s presence. Every morning they went for long rides together.
Judith watched Adam carefully, but saw no signs that he was regretting his betrothal and yearning after his cousin. Judith was immensely grateful for that. She wouldn’t have blamed Adam if he was still in love with Antonia, but she would much rather keep him for herself.
Several days after Lord Launceston left, Adam received a short note from him, giving a hotel in London where he could be reached. Adam showed the note to Judith, who saw that his lordship intended to return to Derbyshire soon to plead his case. If he did, Judith suspected that Antonia would welcome her erstwhile lover with open arms.
A very long week after Simon left, Adam announced that he was going to visit an engineer working on the outskirts of Macclesfield. Would either of the ladies like to visit the shops while he was examining Mr. Malcolm’s steam engine?
Thinking it would be good for Antonia to get away from Thornleigh for a day, Judith accepted for both of them. As they drove west to Macclesfield, Judith asked, “What’s special about
Mr. Malcolm’s engines?”
“They work at very high pressures, so a compact engine can produce a great deal of power,” Adam explained. “There are any number of possible applications in industry, transportation, and mining.”
“If the pressure is very high, isn’t there danger of explosion?”
“Potentially, but not if the device is well-built and well-maintained,” Adam answered. “Malcolm has had good success with his engines throughout the Midlands. Now he’s looking for investment to build a larger manufactory.”
Judith nodded thoughtfully. Based on what she had observed of Adam’s business acumen, if he decided that a project was worthwhile, success was virtually assured.
* * * *
Apprentice engineer Dickie Stokes used the massive spanner to tighten a bolt on the steam engine. He temporarily hung it on the convenient arm of the safety valve while he rummaged through his wooden tool chest for a screwdriver.
As he straightened up, he was unable to repress a yawn. Bit of a pity that the barmaid at the Stars and Garters had chosen last night to succumb to Dickie’s charm. He hadn’t had a wink of sleep, not that he regretted that.
Usually it wouldn’t matter, but today some nabob was visiting Mr. Malcolm and the gaffer was all aflutter to impress him. He’d had his apprentice rushing about all morning, first cleaning the sheds, then testing every cylinder, rod, and bolt in the engine. The old man should have more apprentices, but of course, money was short. That’s why the nabob was needed.
Dickie checked the water level and the furnace. All was right and tight. Lastly he began gathering his tools. T’wouldn’t do to leave ‘em lying about with an important visitor coming.
The engine made such a racket that at first he didn’t hear Mr. Malcolm calling, but finally the yells of “Dickie, get in here!” penetrated the clamor.
The apprentice stifled another yawn. The gaffer must have found something else to worry about. But the engine was singing as sweet as you could please, and that’s what mattered most.
“Dickie, get over here, you worthless Geordie!” Dickie started moving more smartly. The gaffer never called him a Geordie unless he was right peevish. Not that there was anything wrong with having been born in Newcastle, and Dickie Stokes would draw the claret of anyone who claimed otherwise.
As the apprentice closed his tool chest and left the pumping shed, he completely forgot the heavy spanner weighing down the arm of the safety valve.
* * * *
After the carriage dropped him off at the mine site, Adam crossed the field to the flimsy shed that James Malcolm used as an office. An equally flimsy shed fifty yards away housed the steam engine, chugging away as it pumped water from a badly flooded old mine.
Malcolm had been challenged to get the water out. If he was successful, the mine could be profitably worked again and Malcolm’s prestige would be enhanced enormously.
The engineer saw his approach and came bustling out. He was a short muscular man with the powerful hands of a man who’d started life as a laborer. “Mr. Yorke, a pleasure to meet you, sir. I can’t offer you any refreshment just now, but my apprentice has gone off to purchase some tea.”
“No matter.” Adam shook hands, wanting to reduce the engineer’s anxiety. His research had indicated that Malcolm was a talented inventor, and Adam was already predisposed in his favor. “It’s your engine I’m interested in, not tea.”
The two men entered the office, and within a few minutes every available surface was covered with detailed drawings of Malcolm’s designs. The men were kindred spirits. Within minutes, they were deep into discussion of flues, crankshafts, and plunger poles. Examining the actual engine was deferred until later.
In the adjacent hut, the pumper roared on. With the safety valve jammed shut, the internal pressure slowly began to rise, driving the engine faster and faster.
* * * *
At the George inn, Ian Kinlock shifted restlessly as he waited for the carriage to come. He’d already finished his newspaper, and lack of activity was in a fair way to driving him mad. As a physician and surgeon, leisure was not something he had ever had a chance to become accustomed to.
It didn’t help that his visit to a distant cousin in Macclesfield had been tedious in the extreme. He should be old enough to know his mother’s social suggestions were best ignored.
Unfortunately Lady Kinlock had known that her son would be passing through the area, and he hadn’t been able to think of a good reason not to call on Cousin Euan. He had, however, become very inventive about finding reasons for cutting his visit short after a mere two days.
Kinlock pulled his watch out and checked the time. Still a quarter of an hour. He grinned at his own impatience and settled back in the coffee-room chair. Any man who had heard as many dull medical lectures as he had should be able to sit still for fifteen minutes.
* * * *
Macclesfield was a center for silk manufacturing, and the shops had a fine selection of the local products. Antonia eyed the bolts in the draper’s shop, wishing she could summon more enthusiasm.
Judith glanced across at her. “Not in the mood for shopping?”
“Not really,” Antonia admitted. Her companion had been a model of tact and sympathy lately, never prying, but always willing to offer the silent comfort of her presence. Antonia knew that she was most enormously lucky to have friends like Judith and Adam
She should make more of an effort to be agreeable. Forcing herself to smile, she said, “I’m rather curious about Adam’s steam engine. Silk one can see anytime. Do you have any interest in walking back to where we dropped Adam off so we can see the engine? Anything that noisy must be interesting.”
Judith gave the quick smile that made her quiet face sparkle. “Actually, it sounded interesting to me, too, but I thought you preferred shopping.”
Antonia made a wry face. “Clear proof we shouldn’t make assumptions about other people’s preferences. Shall we go see Mr. Malcolm’s marvelous machine?”
Abandoning the shops, they set off through the hilly streets for the edge of town. A brisk twenty-minute walk brought them to the top of the last hill.
Below they could see the mine buildings and, a bit beyond, a coaching inn called the George. “I think that’s the sound of the engineering we’re hearing all the way up here,” Judith remarked. “When we set Adam down, I didn’t realize just how noisy it was.”
Antonia nodded. “I see why Adam said that steam carriages on the roads would probably never be feasible because the noise terrifies horses.”
Judith gave a soft chuckle. “I’m not ashamed to admit it would frighten me!”
They started down the hill.
* * * *
Adam studied Malcolm’s drawing. “You really think that you can run an engine at 150 pounds of pressure?”
Malcolm nodded. “Aye. We’ll go even higher when we find a way of sealing the joints of the boiler plates better.” He unrolled another drawing. “You may find this interesting, too.”
Adam cast an experienced eye over the design. “I see you attached the connecting rod directly to the piston. It certainly makes the engine more compact, and it should be cheap to build. Hasn’t Trevithick done something like this?”
“Aye.” The engineer shook his head regretfully. “The man’s a genius, but he never stays with a project long enough to make a success of it. All over Britain, there are men like me building on Trevithick’s ideas.”
Adam smiled inwardly, admiring the dexterity with which Malcolm implied that he himself was competent and reliable. Adam liked associates who were reliable.
As he rolled up the drawing, he realized the background noise had changed. “Your engine is running much harder than when I arrived. It’s really designed to work at such a pace?”
All of Malcolm’s attention had been absorbed by his discussion with this knowledgeable potential investor, but now he stopped to listen. “Bloody hell!” he swore. Without another word, he dived toward the door of the shed.
It was already too late. Even as the engineer’s hand touched the door knob, the pressure of the steam engine, denied the relief of the safety valve, reached explosion point.
* * * *
Antonia and Judith were a couple of hundred yards from the engine house when it exploded with a deafening roar that could be heard on the far side of Macclesfield. The concussion hit the two women with a blast that staggered Antonia and almost knocked the smaller Judith from her feet.
Right in front of their eyes, the engine house disintegrated into clouds of steam and fragments of wood. Huge chunks of iron hurtled through the air in all directions to bury themselves in the earth up to a hundred yards away.
One such chunk just missed a young man who had been approaching the office and who now lay motionless on the ground in the wake of the blast. Other iron missiles tore into the office itself, combining with the shock wave to knock the little building into an untidy jumble of beams and boards.
Deafened by the noise, Antonia stared in horror at the devastation. Then she screamed, “Adam!” and began running fall-speed toward the wreckage, Judith hard on her heels.
* * * *
The coach was ten minutes late, which did nothing to improve Ian Kinlock’s mood. Eager to make up for lost time, the coachman was stopping just long enough to change his team and pick up passengers.
The doctor was passing his bag up to the coachman when the engine exploded. Even several hundred yards away, the blast was stunning in its intensity, and the horses began plunging in their traces and trumpeting with fright.
‘
“Damnation,’’ Kinlock swore, grabbing at the side of the carriage to steady himself.
As thunderous echoes of the detonation rolled between the bare hills, the coachman gasped, “Gawdamighty, what was that?”
“I don’t know,” Kinlock said grimly, “but throw my bag down again. The odds are that someone is going to need a doctor.”
* * * *
Antonia never recalled the aftermath of the explosion except in a jumble of disconnected images. She remembered men pouring out of the inn down the road, remembered clawing at the steaming wreckage of the shattered engine house, tears pouring down her face.
When a man caught her in his arms and tried to drag her away, she pummeled him with her fists, crying out that her cousin was there and she must save him. The burly workman looked down at her with pity. “If he was in there, miss, he’s past saving.”
Judith was also tugging her away, her white face showing the same terror that Antonia felt. Her voice was almost steady when she said that perhaps Adam had been in the office and would be pulled out unharmed at any moment.
The rescuers drawn by the explosion cleared the wreckage away with slow care. Antonia wanted to shriek at them to hurry, but even in her present state she knew that haste could unbalance the debris, causing further injury to anyone trapped inside.
The young man who’d been heading toward the shed lay unconscious as white-haired man expertly checked him for injuries. At some point Judith passed on the news that apparently no one had been in the engine house, so there was a good chance that Adam was in the office.
The first victim uncovered was a stocky middle-aged man, unconscious but with no obvious injury. Antonia ignored him, her eyes riveted to the ongoing work. Finally, after an endless, aching interval, they brought Adam’s bloody form out of the ruined building.
Antonia fought her way through the ring of men to kneel at his side. He was so still . . . “Get a surgeon!” she begged.
Adam’s light-brown hair was saturated with blood, his face partially obscured, his powerful body completely limp. She clenched his unresponsive hand, refusing to believe that he might be dead.
“I’m a surgeon.’’ The clipped words had a Scottish burr.