Page 71 of Inventing Vivian

Once she was satisfied, she and Lord Benedict went to hide in the small space he had created among the wall of containers.

He watched with interest as Vivian set out her chemicals, basins, and photo plate and constructed the miniature darkroom by draping a thick black cloth over a tripod. She set the two basins beneath, filling one with clean water.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Vivian sat on the floor with her back against a crate, and Lord Benedict sat next to her in the shadows. The initial excitement of the adventure had worn off, and exhaustion was quickly replacing it.

“Miss Kirby, now that we have a moment alone, I want to explain—”

“I would rather not talk about it, my lord.” She glanced at him, and realizing how sharp her words had been, she added, “We should keep quiet.”

“So you intend to just sit here in silence for two hours?” he asked.

“I thought I might rest,” she said. “I didn’t sleep last night. Do you mind?” She was glad the shadows hid her face. The request felt intimate, and that made her feel vulnerable. She did not know what he would see in her expression.

“Not at all.” Lord Benedict patted his shoulder, inviting her to use it as a pillow.

She gave him a flat look, reminding him that their relationship was not on shoulder-pillow terms. She leaned her head against the crate instead.

The wood was hard and her position uncomfortable, but in the cool darkness, she was asleep almost immediately.

“Vivian, wake up.” It seemed as if no time had passed before Lord Benedict shook her arm. “It’s time.”

She lifted her head off his shoulder. Had she moved in her sleep? Or had he pulled her against him? She blinked.

“They’re here.” He held a finger to his lips and pointed behind her.

Hearing voices, her mind jerked fully awake, and she spun around, kneeling to look through the crack between the crates.

“Are you certain?” she asked in a whisper. “Maybe you just hear the workers.”

“All the workers left an hour ago.” Benedict peered through the crack as well. “See? There are Barnaby and Devon and two others with them.”

He was right. Though she could still hear noise from the street and buildings around them, it appeared that save for the four men and themselves, the warehouse was empty.

Vivian unstopped her vials. She poured soluble iodine into a solution of cellulose nitrate and stirred it together with a glass rod. The familiar motions calmed her anxious nerves.

“I’ve not seen you for years, Barnaby,” a loud voice said.

“It is Lord Hargreave,” Lord Benedict whispered. “He’s carrying a case.”

Vivian coated the glass plate with the mixture and put it beneath the dark cloth of the small tent, setting it in a solution of silver nitrate to form silver iodine. The process was so simple and elegant. She looked at her pocket watch.

“I keep out of sight, Yer Lordship. You have what my client is looking for?”

“I have it,” Lord Hargreave said.

“Let’s have a look, then,” Mr. Barnaby said.

Lord Benedict bumped Vivian with his arm and tipped his head toward the camera. It was time to take the photograph.

She looked at the pocket watch. “The plate isn’t ready,” she whispered.

“Who is this client?” Lord Hargreave asked from beyond the crates.

“You know I can’ tell you that, my lord.”

Vivian scooted back to look through the crack.

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