Free Death Devil's Bridge by Robin Paige

that she wondered whether they could be trusted to dine together in a civil manner.
    But Charles seconded her invitation, Bradford accepted for all of them, and Kate went off to break the news to Mrs. Pratt.

8
    We live in an age of balloonacy.
    â€”The Daily Telegraph, 1864
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He must needs go that the devil drives.
    â€”WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
All’s Well That Ends Well
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    â€œ W ell, what do you think?” Bradford asked, as he and Charles left the group of drivers and walked toward the balloon.
    â€œWho invited the contestants?” Charles asked. “You?”
    Bradford shook his head. “Dunstable. He thought a bit of rivalry would stimulate them to their best performance.”
    â€œA bit of rivalry?” Charles raised his eyebrows. “Bateman and Ponsonby have been at each other’s throats since the exhibition at Tunbridge Wells. Dickson despises both of them for reasons that have little to do with racing. And all three are amateurs. They’re no match for Albrecht, who has been winning races in Europe for the last two years. What is he doing here, Bradford? And why is he driving your Daimler?”
    â€œDunstable is looking for publicity for his Daimler patents. He thought Albrecht would attract the attention of the newspapers and motoring magazines. He plans to ride with Albrecht, and share in the glory when he wins. And Albrecht is driving my Daimler because it is fast and well-maintained, thanks to Lawrence.”
    â€œWell,” Charles said mildly, “with Albrecht in the race, there is no contest. But with regard to the exhibit, there’s something else I need to mention to you, Bradford. The villagers are still quite upset about Old Jessup’s death. According to the vicar—”
    â€œI wish the vicar would stop his infernal gossiping,” Bradford burst out angrily.
    â€œThe vicar is only reporting the villagers’ concern. They cannot understand why there was no inquest into the old man’s death, and many resent the fact that their annual Harvest Fete has been turned into an automotive exhibit. In retrospect, I wish we had not combined the two events. Some are likely to stay away—and some of those who come will bear a grudge, and may cause trouble.”
    â€œBut we have already combined them,” Bradford said with a dark frown. “And should any please to stay away, they are certainly welcome. The many gentlemen who will come from Colchester and Ipswich to see the motorcars will more than make up for the few villagers who might have come to toss a coconut or dance a country jig.” His voice became half mocking. “We are here to introduce the men of the future to the machine of the future, Charles, and to invite them to seek a share in the coming wealth of an industry yet unborn.”
    â€œYou mean,” Charles observed, unsmiling, “that Dunstable intends to sell them shares in his enterprises. I hope that you have not become his agent.”
    Bradford’s frown became a scowl. “And is there something wrong with that arrangement? I cannot believe that you, of all people, agree with my father’s antique notion that a peer’s son should hold himself above business and industry. Or that a man, simply because he will inherit a title, should refuse to participate in the industrial growth of the country. Whatever you think of Dunstable, you must admit that security no longer lies in lands and rents, but in a portfolio of commercial shares.”
    â€œOf course I don’t hold with the old view,” Charles replied. “But you must admit, Bradford, that Dunstable’s patent monopolies are clearly fraudulent. They are not the sort of—”
    But Charles’s objections to Dunstable’s schemes were drowned out by the sound of an approaching carriage. It proved to be a hired gig from the railway station, driven by a red-haired, ruddy-faced young man in a Norfolk