To Catch a Rake (17 page)

Meta took a bite of her confection. The melting sweetness of the cream’s vanilla flavor on her tongue could only be described as divine. She softly moaned in pleasure. “Please compliment your staff. I have never tasted a finer sweet.”

“I will,” Lady Sarah said, pouring tea for both of them. “Mrs. Wilson makes these when Father leaves town to visit Swithin. It seems there is a competition between her and Mrs. Handbury in the country.” She giggled. “Both cooks know that when I write to his lordship, I always mention the culinary treats served in his absence. My letters make Father jealous, hungry, and eager to return home to London. In other words, it is a competition between the two cooks to best one another in tempting my father to return.”

Both women laughed.

“I’m delighted your father is away then,” Meta said, smiling. “I must remember to call whenever I hear he is not in London.” She attempted a sip of tea, but it was too hot. So she blew air across the surface of the satin black brew lapping on the side of a pink floral teacup.

Lady Sarah put down her empty plate on the tea table. “So what do you make of Clara walking off on James’s arm? Lily looked as mad as a March hare.”

Meta giggled. “It will do her good, as far as I’m concerned. She has been hurt; I understand that. But I still believe both James and Lily love each other without reservation. My guess is that Mr. Drexel put James up to paying his attentions to Clara. Some sort of manly scheme to bring Lily up to scratch.”

“I thought you said Mr. Drexel would rather cut off his arm than deal with emotional subjects like romantic love.”

“Indeed, I know for sure he would do so. Any words like feelings, plead, love, and affection bring out his masculine defenses. But in this case, I have a hunch James’s behavior is a result of some sort of pact between the two men. Once gentlemen have interests in common, they bond in such a way that they will readily team up to oppose whatever they consider feminine nonsense. The two of them will engage in any far-fetched scheme as long as they consider the result to be to their advantage.”

“Silly creatures,” Lady Sarah said, focused on another confection lying undisturbed on the tea tray. “Why does Cook put so many of these on the plate? She knows I lack any hope of resisting temptation when these are in sight.” A long sigh escaped her.

Meta smiled. “I lack the ability to resist treats too. So let’s divide this one in half. Then we will feel quite satisfied for not eating the whole thing.”

“Excellent idea,” Lady Sarah said, cutting the sweet into two pieces and handing Meta one. “And then when we are finished, we will cut the last one in half too.”

Meta burst out laughing. “Of course, that way we can congratulate ourselves on our rectitude.”

“Of course.”

Both ladies giggled and consumed the entire plate of sweets.

Later, when Meta stood by the door putting on her straw bonnet and kid gloves, Lady Sarah asked her, “Do you think Mr. Drexel will do as you ask? Our guest will be disappointed otherwise.”

“You mean ensure that the tunnel’s board, including both Mr. Brunels, is at the site that day?”

“Yes, it is a tall order, since the board of the Thames Tunnel Company would have to assemble at a moment’s notice. Does Mr. Drexel trust you enough to do your bidding?”

Meta did not know the answer to her friend’s question. But if she dwelled on the negative side—that he would refuse—she’d become upset. Besides, the promise of new investors was at stake, so she decided his response would likely be an eager, positive one. “I’ll call upon him at home today. So I guess we’ll be able to judge what he thinks of my request soon.”

That afternoon, Meta decided she couldn’t wait to have a word with Mr. Drexel to arrange for the Learned Ladies’ surprise. Fitzy had mentioned he would like to examine more technical drawings, so she invited him to accompany her. While she would normally be more circumspect, and had no desire to raise false hopes, she was too excited not to tell Mr. Drexel the good news. After all, she wished to assist him in any way possible for many reasons. Besides easing her guilt over Lily’s stubbornness, she needed to thank him for his efforts in regard to Fitzy’s interactions with professional men—not to mention her interest in the outcome of the leak.

She found Fitzy in the schoolroom. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his arms appeared almost white from a thin layer of plaster. His expression seemed far too serious. “Ah, what have you cast today?” She could only see the smooth plaster layer at the top of the mold, which gave her a good excuse to not realize this was the treasured bolt. “From the size, I’d say it’s a cast of a hand.”

“No, don’t be silly,” Fitzy said, poking the smooth top of the plaster to determine if it had dried.

“An apple?”

He looked at her like she had become a simpleton. “I have more imagination, and more skills, than to cast something as easy as an apple.” A streak of plaster across his cheeks moved with his broad smile. “It is a bolt used on the tunnel’s shield.”

“You used all that plaster just to cast a bolt?”

“Ladies are ignorant about bolts and mechanical whatnots. This bolt is the size of Drexel’s fist, maybe larger. Honestly, Meta, you have never seen anything like it. Truly amazing. I cannot wait to show him the final result.”

Meta had never seen him happier. “How long before it sets?”

“It is set now, but I’ll probably need another hour to trim it properly. I don’t want you to see it until it is presentable and professional.” He grabbed a towel and tried to wipe the lingering plaster off his forearms.

Meta took a cloth too and dampened it in the nearby washstand. While he struggled with removing the large amount of plaster on his arm, she gently wiped away the streak and little spots of plaster on his cheeks, forehead, and chin. “Let’s pay a call on Mr. Drexel in an hour then. You can show him your bolt, and I can inform his that the picnic was a success. Indeed, at the monthly meeting, at least three ladies promised funds for the tunnel. But most of all, Lady Sarah spoke with her father and arranged a surprise. I know this news should please Mr. Drexel.”

Fitzy’s eyes brightened. “Oh yes, let’s do. I want to show his father my bolt too. Both men will appreciate it equally, I’m sure.”

Later that day, Fitzy and Meta entered the Drexels’ town house and were shown into the drawing room. Young Mr. Drexel stood by the large desk, tapping his pencil on a drawing. He wore his greatcoat, so he had either just arrived or was ready to leave.

“Right, Mrs. Russell,” Mr. Drexel said as he bowed in proper greeting. “Why am I not surprised to see you here? You have become a fixture, have you not? Greetings, Fitzhenry, always a delight. Exactly to what do I owe the honor of your visit today?”

Meta could not get the words out fast enough. “Well, the ladies were so impressed, you now have three more people interested in buying shares at the next offering. Well? Well?”

His eyes widened, and he shook his head in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“New subscribers—your tunnel—funds—fathers—husbands—they said
yes
.”

He turned his head sideways and peered down at her feet. “Did you just hop?” He turned to her brother. “Fitzhenry, can you translate your sister for me?”

Before Fitzy could open his mouth, she explained. “The Learned Ladies Society was so impressed after the picnic, three of them will be confirmed subscribers. What do you think about that?”

The smile that broke across his face was not the wicked one. No, this smile had warmth as the main ingredient and could likely charm any observer at twenty paces. “Thank you.” He nodded. “Right, I must admit I had my doubts. Thought I was on a fool’s errand. But it appears I was in error. Thank you again, madam.”

“Oh, but there is more news. Lady Sarah and I have arranged a surprise for you—for the entire Thames Tunnel Company. We would like to schedule a meeting with both Brunels and most of the board present. Can you arrange that?”

“What sort of surprise?”

Fitzy broke into the conversation. “Then it would not be a surprise, sir. Would it?”

Mr. Drexel frowned at Fitzy.

“Oh, sir, I have brought a casting you might be interested in.” He started to unwrap his bolt, but Meta stopped him.

“Let me finish my request first, dear.” She turned to Mr. Drexel. “In fact, I do not plan to leave this residence until I get a promise for what I seek, a meeting with all of the board at the site to receive…visitors.”

“I’m skeptical about this plan. Do not mistake me. I’m delighted you managed to obtain more investors. But as I have noted before, if you bring investors by to observe the workings and something adverse happens, like a leak, it may damage our reputation even further. Just yesterday I saw a caricature by Robert Cruikshank mocking our efforts.”

“Please. Trust me.”

He stared at her for at least half a minute.

“I’ll consider it.”

“Thank you. You will not be sorry.”

“I said consider, madam, not agree. Fitzhenry, how do you manage to live in a household full of females?”

“Um, I never thought about that subject before. But now that I’m thinking about it, it’s a great advantage. The food is likely better, isn’t it?”

Mr. Drexel laughed. He then asked to see Fitzy’s bolt and admired her brother’s work without reservation. “Now if the two of you will excuse me, I must be on my way. There is a meeting of the board in an hour, and I am presenting a new plan for a drainage system.”

The door to the drawing room opened, and the older Mr. Drexel entered. “Mrs. Russell, Fitzhenry, I am delighted to see you both. To what do we owe the honor of your call?”

Both Meta and Fitzy eagerly greeted him, but Meta got her words out first.

“We are here to inform your son that we obtained three more investors for the tunnel.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Michael turned to his son. “Congratulations, that should help your promotion.”

Meta had never heard a promotion was at stake. She turned to George. “You did not tell me about a promotion. Is that why you are reluctant to arrange a meeting of the tunnels primaries for our surprise?”

“There is more than my promotion at stake.”

Michael Drexel chuckled. “Ignore George. He sounds surly when something is on his mind. He is just on his way to a meeting of the Tunnel’s board of directors. He sits in my place, since I do not wish to leave my wife alone. She is eagerly looking forward to continuing the ghost story we started yesterday.”

George appeared peeved. “You only need be away for a few hours.”

Meta understood George’s wish to have his father’s presence at board meetings. Then whenever George proposed a change or improvement, his father could support him and provide the benefit of his experience in discussion with the members. “I don’t understand, sir. Why can’t a servant read to Mrs. Drexel? I know your son would appreciate your presence at these meetings.”

The younger Drexel raised his brows and turned to his father. “See? Even Mrs. Russell thinks it is not necessary for you to stay at home.”

His father shook his head. “My wife believes the servants have far better things to do. In fact, we are constantly short staffed due to the muck and dirt George brings into the house. They are overworked as it is.”

Meta saw two gentlemen who needed her assistance. Nothing could make her happier. “Please, let me read to Mrs. Drexel. I read to my father daily, so I’m well practiced. Besides, Fitzy has come to show you his plasterwork, but he can stay too and occupy himself with drawing.” She turned to her brother. “Can you stay a couple of hours to help out the Drexels?”

Fitzy beamed and turned to the younger man. “Can you provide me with paper and pencil? I have been meaning to make drawings of various model bridges in this room.”

Mr. George Drexel beamed, while the older man remained hesitant.

“Mrs. Russell,” George said, “I must leave immediately or I shall miss the meeting.” He turned to his father. “Please. We plan to discuss my suggestions for the new elevated drainage today, and your opinion carries weight with so many members of the company’s board. I could use your support.”

His father studied his son but remained silent.

Fitzy unwrapped his plaster cast of the bolt again and held it before the older Mr. Drexel. “What do you think of my casting? You of course will recognize it as the bolt holding the shield’s footings. Perhaps the size does not amaze you, but I have never seen anything like this. It is beautiful.”

Mr. Michael Drexel smiled and slapped Fitzy on the back. “Congratulations. You really do have an innate sense of beauty that can be found in the commonplace. A true gift for an artist.”

Fitzy’s chest swelled with the compliment. He turned to Meta. “I will stay, of course. Mrs. Drexel may even want to see my bolt too. And I can read to her, if you tire.”

Meta patted his head, and he leaned sideways to avoid it, probably not wanting the grown men to see his sister treating him as a child.

The older Mr. Drexel laughed. “Very well, I give in. We have been reading
Redgauntlet
by the author of
Waverley
. Have either of you read it?”

Meta mentioned her sister was the only one that could finish the book.

“Well,” the older Mr. Drexel said, “come with me and I will seek her approval and make introductions. No promises, mind. I want you to know that my wife retains full capabilities, except the ability to speak or move her right side. If she falls asleep, you can stop reading and…I hold her hand, but I suppose you need not do so.” He turned to his son. “Introductions will take no more than ten minutes, and then I’ll join you and we can head off to the board meeting.”

The younger man smiled. “Right, I’ll wait. But we will have to bustle—don’t want to set a bad example by being late.”

His father agreed and the three of them climbed the stairs, the younger Drexel remaining behind.

Michael opened the door of his wife’s bedroom. “Stay here for a minute. I need to ready her to accept visitors.” He entered the room and shut the door.

Meta whispered to Fitzy, “Thank you. I promise you your favorite roast chicken tonight for helping me.”