Every Whispered Word (3 page)

“Africa does not have the abundance of ancient buildings and art that have been found elsewhere in the world,” Camelia allowed. “Or if it does, we have not yet found them. But my father believed Africa was home to civilizations far older than those existing anywhere else in the world. When Charles Darwin proposed his theory that human beings may have descended from apes, most of the world laughed. My father, however, grew more convinced of Africa's singular importance in the evolution of mankind.”

“And how does that apply to my work with steam engines?”

“Twenty years ago, my father discovered an area of land in South Africa in which there were many indications that once an ancient tribe lived there. He purchased some three hundred acres and began an excavation, which produced many exciting artifacts. I am now continuing my father's work and I need your steam-powered pump to assist me.”

“I thought archaeological digs were basically carried out with a shovel, a bucket, and a brush.”

“They are. But excavating in South Africa has unique challenges. Once you get below the first layer of relatively soft ground, the crust becomes extremely hard and difficult to break. Then you have the problem of water seeping into the hole as you approach the water table. And then there is the rainy season, which can last from December through March. At this moment my dig is completely flooded, making it impossible for my workers to continue.”

“Surely there are steam-powered pumps available in South Africa,” Simon suggested.

“They are actually somewhat difficult to come by.”

Camelia was careful to keep her tone light. She did not want Simon to know about the extraordinary problems she had encountered in trying to secure a pump for her site. If he knew that her previous equipment had been sabotaged, or that she believed the De Beers Company had instructed the pumping companies not to lease her any more machinery, he might decide it was too risky for him to supply her with his own unique pump.

“There is a water-pumping monopoly in existence, which is controlled by the De Beers Mining Company,” she continued, “and its priority, understandably, is providing services for pumping the diamond mines. At this point, I am unable to either purchase or lease a pump, which has brought the work on my site to a halt. But after reading your article, I am convinced your pump would be far superior to anything currently in use in South Africa. That is why I have come to you.”

“And just what makes you think my pump is better?”

“In your paper you dismissed current steam turbines as extremely inefficient. You proposed that far greater energy could be harnessed if the steam could expand gradually, instead of in just one step, enabling the turbine to move at an extraordinary speed, which would in turn result in a much more powerful and rapid pumping action. Since the artifacts I am excavating can be damaged by prolonged exposure to water, and because I am extremely anxious to progress with my work, I believe your new steam pump is the best solution for clearing my site.”

So she had actually read the article, Simon reflected. Even more surprising, she apparently had understood it. He raked his hands through his hair and gazed about the room, trying to remember where he had put his notes and drawings on steam engines. He began to rummage through several piles of drawings scattered on the floor, then moved to one of the tables that had not been upended by Lady Camelia's spectacular fall and continued searching.

“Why were you making this engine shake this tub?” Camelia asked while he searched.

“The engine wasn't supposed to shake the tub. It was supposed to turn the paddles inside, which in turn would force the water through the clothes. Unfortunately, it didn't work as well as I had hoped.”

Camelia stared at the enormous contraption in astonishment. “You mean this is a giant washing machine?”

“It's an early prototype,” Simon told her. “Current machines employ a wooden tub and paddles that are turned by a crank. I'm trying to make a machine that will operate with steam power, freeing women from the exhausting job of turning the crank by hand.”

Although her experience with washing clothes was limited, Camelia could certainly appreciate that for a woman in charge of an entire household's attire, a steam-powered machine would be of enormous help. “That's a marvelous idea.”

“It needs a lot of work,” he admitted, casting an irritated glance at the soaking wet garments strewn about the kitchen. “A steam engine is difficult to operate, and I'm having trouble getting it to give me a good, steady rotation. Also, it's too large and expensive. Gas power is another option, but few homes are connected to gas. Electricity is also a possibility, but most homes don't have it yet.” He began to burrow beneath a towering stack of unwashed dishes, which looked as if they might come crashing down upon his head at any moment. “Here it is,” he said, extracting a crumpled sketch from beneath a frying pan.

Camelia moved closer as he cleared some space on a table and attempted to smooth out the badly creased, stained drawing.

“The basic premise of a steam engine is that it places steam under enormous pressure, then permits it to expand, creating a force which can be converted into motion,” Simon began. “Using a piston and cylinder, a pumping effect is created, which can be used for many tasks, including pumping water from coal mines and pits. I was trying to improve the engine's efficiency by having the steam expand through a series of stages, thereby significantly increasing its pressure.”

“Did you succeed?”

“I managed to break down the movement of the steam and intensify its pressure. Unfortunately, it was not enough to make a substantial difference in terms of the pump's efficiency.”

Disappointment filtered through her. “Did the pump you built work well enough to clear water out of a pit?”

“Of course,” Simon assured her. “I made a few adaptations to it, so that the action was better than what most pumps can achieve. It just wasn't enough to warrant manufacturing it on a large-scale basis. The materials I used were costlier than what is generally employed, and the machine takes longer to assemble, which means no manufacturer would consider the design economically viable.”

Camelia supposed that a somewhat improved pump was better than nothing. “Would you be willing to lease it to me?”

“Unfortunately, there is nothing to lease. I dismantled most of it, because I needed the pieces for other things.”

She stared at him, crestfallen. “How long would it take you to build another one?”

“More time than I have right now,” Simon replied. “I am currently working on too many other projects. Besides, that machine had several problems which I couldn't seem to solve.”

“But that is what should compel you to devote more time to it,” Camelia argued. “As a scientist, you should be motivated by challenge.”

“Look around you, Lady Camelia. Do you honestly believe I don't have enough challenges already demanding my attention?”

“I'm not saying the other inventions you are working on are not important,” Camelia assured him. “But you can scarcely compare lemon squeezers and washing machines to something that will help me unearth a vital piece of human history.”

“That depends entirely upon one's point of view,” Simon countered. “For people who collapse on their bed every night exhausted by the overwhelming burden of their daily chores, any invention which makes a task easier to perform is an improvement on their life. Potentially improving the lives of thousands strikes me as far more important than digging up a few disintegrating bones and broken relics in the wastelands of Africa.”

“Those disintegrating bones and relics tell us about who we are and where we came from,” Camelia returned, infuriated by how he was denigrating her work. “The discovery of our history is of critical importance to all of us.”

“I'm afraid I am more interested in devoting my time to inventions that will make the present and the future better. While I respect the field of archaeology, Lady Camelia, it is a rarefied area of interest mainly for a few privileged academics. I don't believe you are about to discover anything that will improve the lives of thousands of people. Since my time is extremely limited, and I am already working on far more projects than I can manage, I'm afraid I cannot help you.” He began to pick up more of his scattered inventions and papers from the floor.

“I will pay you.”

He paused and eyed her curiously. Her expression was composed, but her hands were gripping her reticule so tightly her soiled gloves were stretched taut against her knuckles. Clearly, pursuing the work of her father meant a great deal to her.

“Really? How much?”

“Very well,” she assured him. “Handsomely.”

“Forgive me if this seems somewhat uncivilized, but I'm afraid you will have to be a little more precise in your terms. How much, exactly, does ‘handsomely' mean?”

Camelia hesitated. Her financial resources were severely strained. She had scarcely enough funds in the bank to keep the handful of loyal workers who had remained on her site from quitting over the course of the next two months. But Mr. Kent mustn't know that. The disheveled man standing before her appeared to be having financial troubles of his own, given his modest, sparsely furnished home and his apparent inability to employ anyone to assist him, either with his inventions or with the avalanche of crusted pots and greasy dishes piled around the stove and sink.

“If you will build me a pump immediately, Mr. Kent, then I am prepared to offer you five percent of my profits over the next two years. I believe you must agree that is very generous.”

Simon frowned. “I'm sorry, Lady Camelia, but I'm not clear on what that means. Profits on what, precisely?”

“On whatever I find at my site.”

“I wasn't aware there was a flourishing market for bits of bone and broken pots.”

“There is if they are of archaeological significance. Once I have had the opportunity to study and document the pieces, they are sold to the British Museum for its collection, with the understanding that I am to have continued access to them should I ever wish it.”

“I see. And just how much you have managed to earn in the past five years while engaged in this pursuit?”

“What my father and I earned in the past is of no consequence,” she informed him firmly. “At the time of his death six months ago, my father was on the verge of an extremely important discovery. Unfortunately, rain and water seepage have made progress on the site extremely slow, and my workers have had difficulty accomplishing much.”

Actually, most of them had become convinced that the site was cursed and fled, but she saw no reason to share that particular piece of information with him.

“With the help of your steam pump,” she continued, “I will be able to excavate the site a hundred times faster than I could using only manpower for removing the water and mud. Then I will finally find what my father spent so many years looking for.”

“And what was that?”

Camelia hesitated. There had already been rampant fear amongst her own workers as to what it was she sought. When the accidents occurred, that fear had ignited into a firestorm of panic. Of course, Simon Kent was an educated man of science, who probably didn't believe in curses and vengeful spirits.

Even so, the less he knew, the better.

“My father was searching for the artifacts of an ancient tribe that inhabited the area of our site some two thousand years ago.” That was certainly true, she assured herself. It just wasn't the entire truth.

Simon looked decidedly unimpressed. “A few smashed bits of ancient tribal artifacts? No secret stashes of gold or diamonds? No mysterious ancient powers trapped in a jewel-encrusted chest?”

“The value of these particular artifacts will be enormous.” Camelia struggled to keep her temper in check. “My father spent his last twenty years on the cusp of an important scientific discovery, which is certain to open the door to an entire new area of archaeological study.”

“So what you are offering me at present is essentially five percent of nothing,” Simon observed bluntly, “given that you and your father have so far failed to find this so-called ‘significant discovery.' ” He began to gather up the sopping wet garments strewn about the kitchen and toss them back into his washing machine. “Forgive me if I seem ungrateful, Lady Camelia, but as marvelously tempting as your offer is, I'm afraid I shall have to decline.”

Camelia glared at him in frustration. Simon Kent was nothing like she had imagined. She had envisioned him as a refined, elderly man of science and letters, who was driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge, as her father had been. She had believed Mr. Kent would welcome the extraordinary opportunity to participate in her exploration, in which one of his inventions would be used to further the world's understanding of its own origins. She had convinced herself that he would be nothing like the other British men she had met upon her return to England, most of whom seemed to think that South Africa was nothing but a scrubby plot of dirt inhabited by barbarians, a land just waiting to be ravished for diamonds and gold.

“Ten percent then, over two years,” she offered stiffly as he continued to hurl garments back into his infernal washing machine. She hated the fact that she needed his assistance so desperately. “Will that satisfy you?”

“It isn't just a matter of the money.” Simon was impressed by her obvious determination. Clearly her desire to honor her father's life's work and succeed where he had failed was admirable. “Even if I built another steam-powered pump for you, which would take several weeks at the very least, who would operate it for you once it was shipped to South Africa? You have already described the significant challenges of the geography and weather. The steam pump I would build would be different from anything currently in use. It would have to be adapted to address the problems that would undoubtedly arise. Someone would have to be trained to operate and maintain it, otherwise you would find yourself saddled with a completely useless piece of machinery.”