Robin Paige - Death in Hyde Park

Lady Sheridan paused, seeming to think about what she had said. Charlotte was afraid she might question her more closely, but she only said: “And you live at home still, with your mother?”

Charlotte nodded. That part of it, too, was difficult to describe. But Lady Sheridan seemed concerned about something else.

“Does your mother know where you are? Would you like to send her a message, telling her that you’re safe? If you’re concerned that her house is being watched, I’m sure we can arrange-”

“No,” Charlotte said. She might have added, My mother doesn’t care, but it wouldn’t have explained anything. Best just to leave it all unsaid. “It’s all right, really, Lady Sheridan. Mum won’t worry.” She turned to look at the orchard, where a woman was loading baskets of fruit onto a wagon, and thought an Anarchist thought. “You have rather a large crop, don’t you?” she asked archly. “It must bring in quite a lot of money.”

Lady Sheridan was silent for a moment. “Yes,” she said at last. She turned to look steadily at Charlotte. “Each of the workers earns a share of the profits from our venture, based upon her contribution to it. We are organized as a cooperative, you see. In that way, it is possible for a woman to earn her living while she is gaining the skills she needs for her future.”

It was Charlotte’s turn to fall silent.

Early that morning, Charles had driven the Panhard to Chelmsford to spend the day with Guglielmo Marconi, whose Wireless Telegraph Company was located in an old silk factory in Hall Street. It wasn’t Charles’s first trip to the wireless telegraphy laboratory. He was much impressed by Marconi’s innovative work, especially his patented system for tuned coupled circuits, which increased signal range and permitted adjacent stations to operate without interference by allowing simultaneous transmissions on different frequencies.

To Charles’s mind, Marconi was a genius, although most scientists thought the man was more than a little mad. Until last December, it was believed that wireless waves could travel only in straight lines from the transmitter, and that signals could be sent and received only as long as the transmitters were within the line of sight. But Charles had watched as Marconi confounded all the scientists and proved that the curvature of the earth was not a barrier to wireless transmission. At his wireless station in Cornwall, Marconi had received a signal-the letter S in Morse code-transmitted from St. John’s, Newfoundland, eighteen hundred stormy miles away, across the Atlantic. Charles had heard it himself, and to him it had seemed almost a miracle. But if what he had seen in the laboratory today was any indication, there were still more miracles to come. As he drove back to Bishop’s Keep, his head was full of exciting possibilities for wireless transmission, using Marconi’s new system. Someday it might even be possible to transmit the human voice over the air waves, just as was now done over the telephone wire.

He was still preoccupied with these ideas as he walked into the library at Bishop’s Keep, to join Kate for tea. He bent to drop a kiss on her auburn hair, thinking as he always did how pleasant it was to come home to a woman who was not only a pleasure to look at, dressed as she was in a simple ivory afternoon gown, but clever. Yes, exceedingly clever. Kate could always be counted on to listen intelligently to his visionary thoughts-although she might accuse him of being a dreamer like H. G. Wells, with his fantastic visions of the future. But they weren’t so fantastic, were they? Not when men like Marconi could turn science on its head, and make it possible for every ship at sea to communicate with stations on the shore. He turned on the electric light beside his favorite chair. The petrol-powered generator he had installed several years ago had given good service, and he had extended the circuitry throughout the first floor of the old house. So far as he knew, Bishop’s Keep was the only estate in the area to enjoy the luxury of electric light, and he thought that it might not be many years before he and Kate would also enjoy the luxury of listening to the human voice over the airwaves.

Charles sat down and took the cup of tea she had poured for him. “It’s been quite a day, Kate,” he said excitedly. “Wait until you hear what Guglielmo is working on now. He has built a device that-”

“In a moment, Charles,” Kate said, interrupting. “Our guest will be downstairs very soon, and I think you’d better hear the story before she puts in an appearance.”

“A guest?” Charles stirred sugar into his cup and sat back. “I didn’t know we were expecting company this weekend.”

Kate buttered a scone and put it on a plate for him. “Her name is Charlotte Conway. She is-”

“Charlotte Conway?” Charles nearly spilled his tea. Charlotte Conway was the editor of the Clarion — the only staff member Special Branch had not placed under arrest, and only because she had not been found. He stared at Kate, who sat calmly buttering another scone. He was continually amazed by his wife’s inventiveness and her ability to anticipate his interests, but she had outdone herself this time.

“You are a witch, Kate,” he said emphatically. “How under the sun did you manage to get Charlotte Conway here?”

“I didn’t do a thing,” Kate said with a little smile. “It was Nellie Lovelace who brought her, dressed as a young man. It was quite a convincing disguise, actually. I was totally fooled. Nellie has taken the train back to town, but I’ve invited Miss Conway to stay the night, and longer, if you approve.” She shifted uncomfortably. “I know that you planned to go up to London to find and talk with her, but she is after all a fugitive, and I’m not sure you’ll want to have her here. You should also know that it was only by determination and luck that she managed to elude the police, and she’s convinced that if she goes back to the city, she’ll be snatched up by the Scotland Yard detective who engineered the raid.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Charles said, settling back in his chair again. It was an odd but fortuitous coincidence, Miss Conway coming here, since he had planned to attempt to locate and question her about the Clarion employee who had blown himself up in Hyde Park. With any luck, she might have information that would fill in the many blanks in the story, as he knew it now. He sipped his tea. “Did she mention the men who were arrested during the raid-Adam Gould and the other two?”

Kate nodded. “She’s terribly concerned about them.” She gave Charles a slantwise look. “If Miss Conway thinks you are genuinely willing to help her friends, I’m sure she’ll tell you whatever you ask.” There was a sharp, cautionary undertone in her voice. “But if you feel you must convey her information to the Crown as part of this assignment you’ve taken on, I’m equally sure that she’ll refuse to cooperate. If it were me, I shouldn’t like to tell you something that you might turn around and use against my friends.”

Charles chuckled. “I think I can tell whose side you’re on.” He paused. “Now that I’ve had time to think about what Ponsonby asked me to do, Kate, I’ve found plenty of my own reasons for wanting to know what really happened in Hyde Park. It’s possible that the bombing was planned by one of the foreign agents who have been so active in the last few months-and we certainly have to think about the possibility of another attack. So far, though, no definite clues have emerged.”