Page 65 of Inventing Vivian

“We meet tomorrow morning at ten at Lord Covington’s house in Marylebone to finalize the plans. Will you come then?” Vivian asked.

“Lord Covington? What has he to do with this business?”

“Mr. Li, the man accused, is his close friend,” Sophie said.

“Lord Covington, eh?” Mr. Barnaby nodded. “My dear Auntie Myrtle sells oatcakes outside one of his factories. Speaks highly o’ the man.” He frowned. “But I don’ imagine His Lordship will welcome Ole Barnaby into his home.”

“Then, you do not know him,” Vivian said, pleased to hear that others had taken note of Lord Benedict’s kind heart. “You will be welcome, I assure you.”

He shrugged, looking skeptical. “We’ll see, then, won’ we?”

“Until tomorrow, Mr. Barnaby,” Sophie said. She gathered up a bundle of the clothing and held the boots with the tips of her fingers.

“Thank you.” Vivian lifted her own clothing pile and picked up the boots.

Mr. Barnaby made an elaborate bow, which must have been difficult with his hunched back. “Farewell, ladies. I’ll send word, Miss Kirby, when I’ve a response from... our friend.”

The carriage set out toward the newspaper office, and luckily, Devon had the foresight to put the stinking clothing in a trunk on the rear boot.

“I am so nervous I can hardly sit still,” Sophie said. She twisted her hands in her lap. “Just think of it: disguises, a clandestine plan, and of course, the hidden camera device you will—oh, Vivian, what of the exhibition? It is tomorrow.”

The reminder of what she was giving up pierced Vivian’s heart. She nodded. “I know.”

“But... perhaps we could...”

Her voice trailed off as she came to the same realization that Vivian had. They could not delay their plan, not when Mr. Li’s life depended on them. Sophie moved around to sit beside Vivian, holding her hand.

Vivian rested her head on her friend’s shoulder and let her heart ache.

***

That evening, Vivian ate supper in her workshop. She worried that if she took a respite from working on the camera, she’d not have time to finish before meeting with Lord Benedict and the others the next morning.

An hour earlier, a message had come from Mr. Barnaby. It simply said,

Tomorrow afternoon. Tell all at Lord C’s.

The note both relieved and panicked her. She was pleased that the man had made contact with the thief and arranged a meeting, but if she didn’t manage to make the concealed camera work, it would all be for naught.

Devon had brought a small crate according to Vivian’s specifications, as well as some fresh chemicals from a photography shop. She had spent the evening devising the best way to conceal her camera and still have access to it without opening the crate.

In the end she attached the camera to the inside with wires and widened a space between the slats with a saw so she could slide the plates in and out. A corner of one of the boards was broken, and it was there that the lens could look through unobstructed.

She wished there were a way to adjust the angle of the camera’s view without moving the crate, but in the end, she resigned herself to the fact that she’d simply have to aim it toward where she hoped Lord Hargreave would be.

Having so little control over the situation frustrated her. She imagined all the many scenarios in which something might go wrong. The hour was nearly dawn when she decided she was as prepared as she could be. The elements of the solution were measured, a portable darkroom was constructed, and the hidden camera was ready.

Only one task remained, and she dreaded it. She locked the door to her workroom and descended the stairs on tiptoe lest she wake up any of the household. In her bedchamber, she changed into her nightclothes and then sat at her desk. She pulled out a clean piece of paper and wiped away tears as she wrote the final letter to her secret benefactor.

---