Free Her Own Devices by Shelley Adina Page A

want to ask for her doctor in the receiving room, and they’ll arrange to have her brought out.”
    “Thank you, sir.” They progressed around the circular drive and came to a halt in front of the steps. Claire descended and removed her driving rig, then tugged her suit jacket into place and made sure her lace jabot was suitably fluffed. Then she noticed Tigg, who had not moved.
    “Tigg? Aren’t you coming?”
    “Please, Lady,” he whispered. “I can’t do it. I can’t go in there.”
    “Come on, Tigg,” Snouts said in bracing tones. “I ent afraid, nor should you be.”
    From somewhere deep in the building came an ululating scream. Tigg flinched, and if he could have crept under the landau and laid flat upon the gravel, Claire was sure he would have. “Ent goin’,” he whispered. “You can’t make me.”
    “On second thought,” Claire said, looking up at the doors, “I do not feel I should leave the landau unattended. Your logic is sound, Tigg. If you are willing to post a guard, I should be most grateful.”
    The boy drew a deep breath. “You c’n count on me, Lady.” He slid out of the back and stood next to the passenger door, pressed against its gleaming surface as though glued there. “I shan’t move from this spot, and no one shall touch this engine.”
    “Thank you, Tigg. You have set my mind at rest. Come along, Mr. McTavish. That silk cravat should be tucked into your waistcoat, not lying upon it. And don’t forget to put on your spectacles.”
    So far today she had been two people: the Lady of Devices and the studious assistant to Andrew Malvern. Now Claire drew on a third persona—one oddly similar to that of her mother—like a cloak. She straightened her spine and tilted her chin so that she was obliged to look down her nose, and, grasping her skirts in one hand and her pocketbook containing her engineering notebook in the other, she sailed into the receiving room on a cloud of authority.
    “I wish to visit my cousin, Dr. Rosemary Craig,” she informed the nurse at the desk in pleasant, plummy tones. “I am Lady Claire Craig, of—of Craigsmoor House in Shropshire, and this is my secretary, Mr. McTavish.”
    The nurse looked awed, as though titled ladies did not come visiting so very often. Perhaps they did not. “Certainly, your ladyship. Let me fetch the doctor in charge of her case. In the meantime, perhaps you might care for some refreshment, here, in the sitting room?”
    She showed them into a pleasant sitting room with white plaster walls and several chairs. In a moment she was back with a pitcher of water and three glasses, which she set on a side table. “The doctor will be with you shortly.”
    Claire had just poured herself and Snouts a glass of water when a man in a white coat came in. He looked very much like the dreadful person at the British Museum who had interviewed her for a position—and been much more interested in her anatomy than in her knowledge of cataloguing specimens. Claire forced down her instant, irrational distaste and extended a hand.
    “Lady Claire,” he said politely, shaking it. “I am Doctor Thomas Longmont, at your service.”
    “How do you do? This is my secretary, Mr. McTavish.” Snouts shook hands gravely, his spectacles winking in the light from the front window.
    “I understand you wish to see your cousin, Rosemary Craig. You will no doubt be very welcome, but first, I feel I should prepare you, since this is your first visit here.”
    “Prepare me, sir? Is Rosemary not well?” She bit her lip. Of course she was not well. That was why she was locked up in here. “I mean—”
    He smiled. “I imagine you meant is she suffering from an illness other than that of the mind. Let me assure you, in body she is sound. However, in mind ... How long has it been since you last saw your cousin?”
    Claire pretended to consider. “I was a child, and she and her family—my aunt and uncle, and cousin Dorothy—had come to Craigmoor House for