Plant Number 2 Part 2

Ernest returned to the manor at Oriel just past seven that evening.

The hall was warm with the scent of beeswax and burning applewood. Eleanor was sitting by the hearth in the library, a leather-bound history resting closed in her lap.

She looked at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece, then up at him. "Seven-fifteen. You are practically an hour early, Baron."

"The railway train was on time," Ernest said, setting his coat on the timber rack.

She glanced at the rolled linen bundle under his arm. "And what is that? Another engine?"

"A factory," he replied, sitting in the armchair opposite her.

Eleanor smiled faintly, setting her book on the side table. "Of course it is. Why build one carriage when you can build four thousand?"

She took the tea tray from the low table and poured him a hot cup. "Arthur sent a messenger ahead from the city. He says you were ready to put the entire carriage guild out of work before lunchtime."