Storing Up Trouble, стр. 22
“You do have an impressive doll collection,” Norman pointed out.
“One that is currently collecting dust in my attic.” Constance smiled. “However, when I realized that Gemma was fascinated with science, I decided that instead of hindering her interest, I’d encourage it.”
Norman set aside his napkin. “Aren’t you afraid you’re allowing her false hope because there are limited opportunities for girls in science?”
“I’m hopeful that by the time Gemma is old enough to seek a higher education, there’ll be more colleges and universities admitting women.”
Norman frowned. “Don’t let Mother hear you speaking that way because you know she’ll conclude you’re sympathetic to the suffrage movement, and I can’t even imagine the drama we’ll be forced to endure if she comes to that conclusion.”
“I am a supporter of the suffrage movement, something Mother is well aware of but chooses to ignore.”
“You support the suffrage movement?” Norman asked weakly, feeling as if his world truly was turning topsy-turvy and not only because of Miss Beatrix Waterbury.
Constance merely smiled before she quirked a brow and got a far-too-familiar look on her face. “Returning to why you’ve been absent from the house this week . . .”
“Your brother is clearly in the middle of trying to puzzle out some new invention or mathematical equation, which is why he’s been going off to Hyde Park to run, evidently needing a change of scenery to do his thinking.”
Relief was swift as Norman watched his mother, Mary Elizabeth Dupee Nesbit, breeze into the room, dressed to perfection in a walking gown of blue. His relief disappeared in a flash, though, as a troubling thought sprang to mind.
“How do you know I’ve been running in Hyde Park?”
Mary sent him an indulgent smile. “The Pinkerton men I hired to keep you safe until the miscreants from the train are caught have been keeping me apprised of your movements.”
Norman pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “You hired Pinkerton men to follow me?”
Mary raised a hand to her throat. “Do not tell me you have yet to notice them. They’ve been at it for almost a week, taking shifts.”
The next thing Norman knew, he was pushed back into his chair. His mother wasted no time in placing her hand on his forehead while his sister smacked both of her hands against his cheeks, ignoring the wince her smacking caused.
It didn’t take a genius, which he most certainly was, to conclude that both ladies were now convinced that he was certainly suffering from some type of dreadful illness. What they didn’t know, however, was that what he was suffering from was actually far worse, and it had a name.
Miss Beatrix Waterbury, to be exact.
Chapter 9
“He doesn’t feel hot to me, Mother,” Constance said.
“But he must be ill. What other explanation could there possibly be for him being unaware of the Pinkerton men?” Mary returned.
“Have either of you considered that I may have been distracted with matters of science?”
Constance and Mary exchanged telling looks right before they launched into speculation about what dreadful ailments he could be experiencing that could cause him to be so unobservant.
Norman settled back in his chair, knowing there was little point in interrupting their discussion because he had nothing of worth to add to explain his symptoms, which had been caused by Miss Beatrix Waterbury. Nor was he willing to broach the subject of Beatrix because that would open up an entirely different can of worms. Wincing when Constance tugged his hair in her attempt to ferret out some place on his head where he might show signs of a fever, Norman felt a sliver of relief slide over him when Gemma, his niece, strolled into the room, carrying a porcelain doll under her arm. She promptly thrust that doll into Oscar’s hands as her gaze traveled from Constance to Mary and then settled on Norman.
A blink of an eye later, she was rushing his way, inserting herself between him and his mother.
“Uncle Norman,” she exclaimed. “I’ve been longing to see you for days and days and now you’re finally here.”
He couldn’t help himself, he grinned. “Should I ask why you’ve been longing to see me?”
“We want to see your wagon,” Oscar said, sitting forward. “Gemma told me it runs on an electric motor.”
Gemma leaned closer to Norman. “Oscar doesn’t believe you have an electric wagon that works, and he’s been very vocal about his disbelief regarding the matter.”
Norman shook his head. “It’s not a wagon. It’s a conveyance vehicle, complete with an electrical engine.”
Gemma’s nose wrinkled. “It looks like a wagon.”
“It’s far too complex to be considered such a lowly vehicle.”
“Then maybe you should build a better frame for it that complements the complexity of the engine.”
Norman caught Constance’s eye. “She really is unusually intelligent, isn’t she?”
“She reminds me of you at her age,” Constance said as Gemma grabbed hold of Norman’s hand and tugged him from the chair. “Can we show Oscar the wagon now?”
Having no reason to balk, Norman allowed Gemma to hustle him from the breakfast room, Oscar hurrying to join them as they stepped into the backyard. They then began making their way to one of the three carriage houses located a good ways from the main house.
“I’m curious how you know about my latest invention in the first place,” Norman said as they passed the first carriage house, a building where numerous horses were kept and one that he avoided entering whenever possible.
“I saw it while you were in New York when I was . . .” Gemma’s voice trailed off. She shot him a guilty look, then dropped his hand and hurried ahead.
It took him all of five seconds to catch up with her. “When you were what?”
“When she was looking for scraps to finish off one of her own inventions,” Oscar supplied when Gemma didn’t respond.
Oscar didn’t even flinch when Gemma stopped in her tracks and scowled at him. “Uncle Norman might not let