Down the Rabbit Hole

Weston could feel the tension in Alice increase and was sure if he could test her pulse he would find it hammering as hard as his was. Neither he nor Alice stepped onto the moving stairs with as much confidence as the people around them, but no one seemed to care.

“Thank goodness most seem to just ride on these,” Alice whispered. “It would test my balance to ride and step down at the same time.”

They both watched their fellow travelers.

“They do not seem at all amazed,” Alice observed. “Their expressions range from—um—disinterest, I would say, to”—she paused again—“impatience.”

“I suspect the impatience stems from whether they have had dinner or not.”

She laughed a little, and her death grip on his arm eased just a tad.

As they moved deeper and deeper under London, he wondered aloud, “Do you think this is what coal miners experience when they head into the earth?”

“Possibly, though without as much light. And it certainly is not as clean as this.”

“This convinces me that miners are not paid nearly enough.”

“We can breathe quite comfortably, Weston. How can that be?”

Instead of answering her, he nodded to the end of the moving stairs, and they both concentrated on stepping off without mishap.

“Part of me thinks that was quite enough adventure,” Alice said. “And we haven’t even seen the underground transport yet.”

A moment after Mr. Arbuckle announced, “It will be loud,” the noise level increased dramatically. It took real effort not to cover his ears, as Alice did for a moment. As they walked toward the platform where a few people were waiting, the train charged by them moving faster than anything Weston had ever seen.

It stopped and the doors opened, and they did not need the voice urging them to “mind the gap” to step carefully from the platform into the carriage, one of several carriages connected for a train of considerable length.

Alice leaned closer; in truth she did it to make room for someone who wished to take a seat in the small space next to her. The side of her body pressed into him, and the jolt of lust that echoed through him at even this minimal contact made Weston marvel at his control. When they finally did go to bed, he wondered if their rooms would connect.

The ride was astounding; so astounding that his arousal subsided in the face of this terrifying experience. It felt as though they had been shot from a cannon.

“I devoutly hope the driver knows the correct route,” Weston said, turning to Mr. Arbuckle, who nodded.

“The train has wheels, and they run on tracks so there is only one way they can go. These trains can run without a driver if necessary.”

“The Oystermouth Railway!” As he tried to form a mental image of carriage wheels locked into a track to convey a load, the words popped into his mind, making the connection. He spoke aloud without thinking.

“What are you talking about, my lord?” Alice actually put some distance between them as she asked. Did she think he had gone mad?

“Alice, they are constructing a system that functions on rails in Wales, but they do not call it the Underground, they call it the Oystermouth Railway. When it is complete they will use it to transport coal from an area where there are no roads.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Alice said. “Have you, Mr. Arbuckle?”

Arbuckle shook his head. Of course I know a little about the development of railways, but not that particular one.”

“Not many have heard of it. Yet. The only reason I know it,” Weston continued, “is because the estate owns several coal mines that would be serviced by the railway. The trustees are not inclined to maintain the connection because they feel it will cost more than it is worth, and they approached me recently with the suggestion that we sell our interest.” He looked around him with satisfaction. “I think not. There is obviously more of a future for railways. More than just carrying coal away from the mines.”

As the train pulled to a stop and Mr. Arbuckle rose, Weston and Alice followed.

They reversed their route, stepping onto the moving stairs that went up—a much easier proposition than stepping on to go down. One wasn’t likely to fall up the stairs, though he imagined it was possible.

“Mr. Arbuckle, Alice wonders how it is we can breathe so comfortably below ground, and I wonder what fuels these marvels.”

“I really do not know the answer to either question, my lord, but in the early days of train travel it was coal that fueled the engines.”

Weston nodded. “More and more I am committed to the coal mines in Wales, Alice.”

She gave him her attention, and he went on. “They are clearly a fundamental part of the future. And I think it’s significant that the Oystermouth Railway is a project that I am already involved in.”

“It was your uncle’s investment, was it not?”

“Yes, and one that is infinitely more sensible than it seemed. I will not let it go, regardless of what the estate trustees counsel.”

CHAPTER TEN

“Are we not still in Mayfair?” Alice asked as they exited the Underground station into a salubrious evening.