Page 84 of Inventing Vivian

Chapter 22

Vivian’s empty belly woke herthe next morning. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. She imagined she’d had breakfast the day before, but her mind had been so occupied with planning that she could have forgotten. She dressed quickly and went down the stairs to the dining room, surprised when her family wasn’t there.

When she inquired of the butler, she was told her father, Aunt Winifred, and Chester had gone out for the day. Aside from the footman who’d waited up for her, she’d not seen any of the household the night before, either. It felt strange for two entire days to have passed without spending any time at all with her family. But it was just as well. She wasn’t ready to explain where she’d been or what she’d been doing.

Just the memory of Lord Hargreave’s words were enough to make her hands shake. She knew the effect was merely the body’s natural response to danger, a surge of energy as a means of survival. But understanding did not make it go away. She’d never experienced such terror as she’d felt in the street outside the warehouse. And once the rush of energy had worn off, she’d been exhausted, sleeping in the carriage on the way home.

Once she’d eaten, Vivian put on her hat and gloves, and she sent a servant for a hackney cab since the family had taken the carriage. As she passed his house, she wondered what time Benedict—LordBenedict, she reminded herself. When had she started thinking of him so informally?—had arrived home. Was Zhang Wei with him? Or were they still at the police station? What was the status of the case against Lord Hargreave? Did the police have sufficient evidence to charge him for the murder even without the photograph?

She considered sending Lord Benedict a letter of inquiry, but of course, such a thing was hardly appropriate. She shifted in her seat, feeling an uncertain sort of nervousness when it came to the man. The things she had said and how she’d acted... he’d not soon forget her outbursts and rejection. It was very likely that Lord Benedict would not want to hear from her at all.

The cab came to a stop, cutting off her train of thought, and Vivian stepped out, admiring the shine of the Crystal Palace in the morning light and dreading what she must do. Without her demonstrating and explaining her invention, the booth would have been ignored by the exhibition guests, and possibly closed.

She hoped that in the confusion of the crowd the Personal Propulsion Vehicle hadn’t been knocked over or damaged. She wondered if it had been moved by the event organizers or perhaps covered with a sheet. Whatever had happened, she would know soon enough.

With the crowds at the entrance to the exhibition hall, the driver had let Vivian off a ways down the road, and she took the opportunity to walk through the park and admire some of the dinosaur sculptures. She had never failed to be fascinated by the display of extinct creatures and had found Sir Richard Owen’s book on the anatomy of vertebrates to be one of the most interesting in her collection.

Once she entered the Crystal Palace, Vivian found it filled with the sounds of machinery and voices. She smelled engine oil and sulfur and a mixture of chemicals as she passed row after row of thrilling displays. Another day, she’d have wanted to see each demonstration and hear every lecture, but today she was weighed down with discouragement. She’d come so close, and there was no reason to believe such an opportunity would present itself again. She was at peace with the decision she’d made to help Zhang Wei, but she still felt the sting of loss as she saw the excitement in the other presenters’ eyes. She sighed and continued on through the rows of exhibits. She supposed she needed to arrange for the Personal Propulsion Vehicle to be returned home, and maybe she should take down the sign at least. Devon could help her dismantle the booth in a few weeks, after the exhibition was finished. And she should find Professor Wallis and apologize to him personally.

Over the din of the crowds, one particular sound caught Vivian’s attention. A steam-powered engine that sounded exactly like the PPV.

When she arrived at her booth’s row, she saw that a path had been cleared along the walkway. Chester, wearing a helmet and goggles, rode Vivian’s invention down the row and made a slow circle before returning along the same path to the booth.

The spectators cheered.

Vivian could only stare. She hurried to the booth and had to push her way through the crowd thronging the PPV.

Aunt Winifred, Elizabeth, and Hazel were spread through the booth, giving out handbills to interested attendees. Some visitors shook Chester’s hand, and others studied the schematics pinned to the walls.

Elizabeth’s gaze met Vivian’s, and she grinned. “Yes, sir,” she said to the man she was talking to. “As a matter of fact, here is Miss Kirby now.”

Vivian spoke to the man in a daze, answering his questions about the engine’s fuel capacity, and took the card he offered. Then she turned to Elizabeth. “How did you do all this?”

Hazel joined them, smiling. “I’m so glad you’re here at last,” she said. “I don’t know anything about exhaust valves or piston cranks.”

“Have you been here the entire time?” Vivian asked as Aunt Winifred and Chester joined them.

“We’ve come in shifts,” Hazel said.

“Did you see me riding the Personal Propulsion Vehicle, Vivian?” Chester pulled on her arm to get her attention. “I drove slowly just like Professor Wallis told me to.”

“You did perfectly.” She tugged on one of his helmet’s leather straps. “I cannot imagine a better demonstration.”

“The judges certainly thought so.” Aunt Winifred glanced upward.

A blue ribbon hung from the booth’s sign. Vivian’s breath caught. She stared. Could it possibly be true?

“A man named John Campbell from America hopes to speak with you about displaying at the Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia in three years,” Elizabeth said, giving her another card.

“And at least four manufacturing companies want to speak to you about your patent,” Aunt Winifred said, putting more cards in Vivian’s hands.

Vivian stared at the card and then at the faces of her friends and family. Her chest felt full, as if her heart’s capacity for emotion had expanded beyond its maximum volume. “I can’t believe you did this for me. How can I ever thank you?”

“Nonsense,” Elizabeth said. “Anyone would have done the same. Besides, we couldn’t just leave the PPV rusting here while Mr. Fernsby showed off his idiotic guns.” She cut her eyes toward the man’s booth. A ribbon hung from Mr. Fernsby’s sign as well.

Vivian remembered Fernsby’s demonstration and smiled to herself, thinking how Lord Benedict had disarmed an assailant without the use of one of the weapons.

“We are so proud of you, Vivian,” Hazel said in her gentle voice. “Not only for the success of your invention but for your willingness to help poor Mr. Li.” She patted Vivian’s hand and turned to give a handbill to a group of men who had just entered the booth.

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