Voyage in Time: The Titanic (Out of Time #9) (3 page)

“It is, isn’t it?” Elizabeth agreed.

Sir Charles looked down at a group of men who had just entered the hall. “Those men are the future.”

Elizabeth followed his gaze. She recognized two of them from the Council dossier: Thomson and Rutherford. She leaned forward to get a better look when Simon touched her forearm. He nodded toward the doorway, and there stood the man they’d spent the day looking for, Niels Bohr.

S
IMON
WATCHED
AS
B
OHR
shook hands with his former mentor, Thomson, and then sat down in the front row with Rutherford. Bohr looked exactly like his photo. He was only in his late twenties now, but he already had the look of the older scientist most people would come to know. He had a long face with large, drooping cheeks like the jowls of a hound, and that slightly haggard and distracted look that was de rigueur for scientists.

Simon listened to Thomson’s lecture but kept his eyes trained on Bohr. Now that they’d finally found him, Simon wasn’t going to lose him again. Elizabeth might not be bothered by the sudden and unexpected, but Simon was, and Bohr’s unannounced trip here certainly fell into that category.
 

It all would have been so much easier if the Council had been able to tell them who Bohr was meeting and where. Then again, it would have been simpler still if they could use the watch to save him from any threats, but Travers had been more than clear on that front. The universe did not take kindly to mortals rearranging its chess pieces. Considering that the potential outcome of World War II rested on Bohr’s survival here, it was a sobering admonition indeed.

As Thomson came to the end of his lecture, Bohr leaned over to whisper something to Rutherford, who shook his head and replied. Whatever Rutherford said, Bohr was unhappy, but he nodded reluctantly in return and joined in the applause.

“Remarkable,” Sir Charles said.

Simon agreed and quickly stood, silently urging Elizabeth to do the same. Down front, Bohr was speaking to Thomson, but the older man was quickly pulled away by other admirers and Bohr turned toward the door. If they didn’t hurry, they might lose him again.

Sir Charles came to his feet as Elizabeth did. “Didn’t you think so?”
 

“It made me hungry for plum pudding,” she said.

Sir Charles barked out a delighted laugh. “Delightful! Plum pudding.”

Simon took Elizabeth’s arm and helped her out from behind the desks and onto the stairs.
 

“We have to hurry,” he said, but it was fairly pointless. Their seats had been near the last row of the lecture hall and the traffic on the stairs was impassable. Only a handful seemed to even be trying to descend. Scientists were positively the worst dawdlers on Earth.

Simon managed to get them down two rows, but the logjam of men discussing the lecture blocked their way. Just as he’d feared, Bohr was at the door, leaving.

“We’re losing him.”

It would probably make the papers, but Simon considered shoving the entire brain trust of Cambridge out of his way.

“We’ll catch up with him,” Elizabeth said. “Don’t worry.”

But he did worry.
 

“If we lose Bohr now—”

“Niels? Is he here?”
 

Simon had nearly forgotten about Sir Charles and turned back to face him. “Yes.”

He laughed and waved a dismissive hand. “He’ll be at the party, surely. All of them usually are.”

“Party?”

Sir Charles’ eyebrows rose and then knit in confusion. “Yes, the fundraiser. Disguised as a cocktail party, of course, but it’s all about the money,” he added sotto voce. “Don’t tell Lady Edith I said that or she’ll banish me from her next garden party. On second thought—”
 

“Niels Bohr will be there? At the party?” Simon asked.

“They all will, I think. It’s of a bit of a dog and pony show, but it raises more than the rest of the year combined.” He looked at Simon again, this time more keenly than before, probably calculating a potential check. “I don’t suppose you’d like to come as my guests.”

Elizabeth grinned. “That would be wonderful.”

“I have to warn you, though,” Simon said. “I’m an Oxford man, myself.”

Sir Charles’ smile didn’t falter. “No one’s perfect.”

~~~

The cocktail party at Lady Edith’s was the same sort of droning affair Simon had happily left behind when he’d left England years ago. As a potent reminder, he and Elizabeth were currently stuck listening to a woman’s ten-minute soliloquy about her Corgis, her colonel husband and the Raj of India, although it was often difficult to tell which was which in her endless narrative.

“And I told the viceroy, who was the Earl of Minto at the time, that if I had to endure watching his wife ride a bicycle, if you can imagine, in front of God and Country, then he would have to endure the presence of my dear Pupkins in the palace.”
 

“Fascinating,” Simon mumbled. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”

Without waiting for an answer, he took Elizabeth by the elbow and walked away.

As they did, they heard another woman say, “What do you expect from an Englishman who marries an American?”

Elizabeth turned back to reply, but Simon pulled her away. She leaned in as they walked toward Bohr.

“Why are the upper crust so crusty?”

Simon chuckled. “I don’t know, but I do know I couldn’t stand one more minute with that woman.”

Even though the Victorian Era, and even the Edwardian, had passed, their puckered sensibilities remained with many of the old families. Change wasn’t a welcome thing and they’d avoid it as long as possible.

“He’ll show up,” Elizabeth said, misreading his dour expression.

Putting those thoughts away, he looked at his wife, the embodiment of change for him, and smiled. Despite running away, he’d been one of “them” in his heart, stuck in the past. Until he’d met her.

His smile broadened.

“What?” she asked.

He shook his head. “There but for the grace of God, I would have been such a—”

“Bohr.”

“Well, yes.”

“No, Niels,” Elizabeth clarified with a nod of her head toward a group across the room.

Simon felt a wave of relief, quickly followed by sympathy. The poor man must have just come in and already he was being waylaid by several of the more aggressive collectors.
 

It was an odd thing. Some rich people collected horses or castles or, God forbid, porcelain figurines. Worse yet were the ones who collected people. They might collect entertainers, or politicians, anyone with a cachet attached to them. Here at Cambridge, it seemed scientists were on the list of collectible novelties.
 

Bohr looked uneasy as he tried unsuccessfully to extricate himself from the group. He smiled politely and tried to get a word in edgewise between the two warring groups.

“But you must come to Windsor this summer,” one of them said. “You positively must.”

“Unless he’s already with us at Weybridge, of course.”

“I am most grateful,” Bohr said in his thick Danish accent, “but I—”

“I won’t take no for an answer, Mr. Bohr.”
 

Before he could stutter another ignored apology, Elizabeth swooped in to his rescue. She stepped right into the middle of the crowd, grabbed Bohr by the shoulders and kissed him on both cheeks.

“Niels! It’s been so long. We haven’t seen each other since Hamburg. Or was it Brandenburg? Salzburg? I’m sure it was a burg. But no matter.” Without a pause or a breath, she looped her arm through his and turned to the others. “You don’t mind if I steal him from you, do you?”

One of the women started to say that she did, but Elizabeth ignored her. “You’re such dears, thank you. And I love that dress,” she told one of the more sour looking battle-axes. “Does wonders for your figure.”

The woman spluttered something in reply, but Elizabeth was already dragging Bohr away. Simon followed them both.

“I do not understand,” Bohr said as the three of them walked over to the side of the room. “Do I know you?”

Simon held out his hand. “Shake my hand like we’re old friends. They’re watching.”

Bohr looked at it in confusion and then the lightbulb went off and he shook it vigorously.

“Good to see you,” he said loudly. “Old friend,” he added awkwardly.

“Simon Cross. My wife, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth grinned. “I’m sorry for grabbing you like that, but you looked like you could use rescuing.”

Bohr blushed. “I am not accustomed to being …”

“Being treated like a prize horse?”

He laughed and nodded. “Yes.” Then he wrinkled his forehead. “But why …? Not that I am not grateful …”

“I’m not really one for these things either,” Elizabeth said.

Bohr seemed to have trouble believing her. “You?” He looked at her and then at Simon.
 

She waved her hand at Simon. “Oh, he’s fine with these, but me?” She stepped closer to Bohr. “It’s all a little much.”

“Yes. Margrethe is always telling me I should get out more, but …” He trailed off and shook his head.

“Is that your wife?” Simon asked, knowing full well she was his fiancée back home in Denmark.

He smiled again. “I am hopeful. Yes.” He looked at Elizabeth. “You remind me a little of her. Around the eyes.”

Elizabeth grinned. “I like her more and more. Do you—”

Bohr’s attention was suddenly drawn away and he interrupted her. “I am sorry. I must speak to someone.” He looked at them apologetically. “It is quite urgent, you see.”

The last thing on earth Simon wanted was to let him go now, but he had no choice. “Of course.”

Bohr bowed slightly. “Thank you again for the, um, deliverance. Yes?”

“Hopefully, we’ll have a chance to talk more later,” Elizabeth said.

He nodded and then headed over to talk to Thomson.

“I really thought we had him,” Elizabeth said. “I mean, I remind him of his fiancée for gosh sake.”

Simon tried not to chuckle. Poor Elizabeth was used to her charms overwhelming nearly everyone she came into contact with.

“I’m sure you’ll win him over before the night’s done.”

But she didn’t. She didn’t even have a chance to. Shortly after Bohr found Thomson, he showed him a telegram. Whatever was in it surprised the older man. Together they found Rutherford and the three of them escaped the party, sneaking off into a study adjacent to the ballroom.
 

Simon and Elizabeth lingered near a door that afforded them a view of the hall and the study. They’d been waiting for nearly an hour now.

Elizabeth chewed on her lower lip and leaned against the wall. “What do you think they’re doing in there?”

“Talking.”

“I know, but about what? What was in that telegram?” Her eyes grew wide with excitement. “Should I try to steal it?”

“Elizabeth.”

“What? I can do it.”

Simon shook his head.
 

“Aren’t you curious?” she said.

“Of course I am, but we need to get near to Bohr, not just today, but for the next week plus. If he catches you, do you think we’ll have much of a chance to stay close—”

“Shhh.” Elizabeth turned her back to the hallway and faced Simon, giving him a perfect view of the doorway and making it appear as if they were in natural conversation.

Bohr, Thomson and Rutherford all came out together, still deep in conversation.
 

“What’s happening?” Elizabeth asked.

“Nothing really.”

Elizabeth started to turn to look, but Simon took her arm.
 

“Don’t turn around.”

“Next time I want to be the one who looks.”

“When you grow a foot and I shrink one, it’s a deal,” Simon said.

He tried to hear their conversation, but they were too far away and speaking in hushed tones. What was clear was that Thomson and Rutherford disagreed on something and Bohr seemed to be stuck in the middle.
 

Finally, Thomson, shaking his head, walked away, leaving Bohr and Rutherford alone together. The old man clapped Bohr on the shoulder. Bohr took a deep breath and nodded, seeming to come to some decision.

“Come on.” Simon took hold of Elizabeth’s arm and led her down the hall toward the pair.
 

“I will think about it tomorrow,” Bohr said to Rutherford as they approached. “I am not a brave man.”

“You are more so than you think.”

Bohr smiled in greeting as Simon and Elizabeth arrived.
 

Rutherford bowed his head and started back toward the party. “I’ll be here until tomorrow evening, if you should want to talk again. And don’t forget about Blandings at the Royal Society. He can help.” He took a few steps away and then turned back. “And don’t worry so much, Niels. It’ll all be fine, I’m sure.”

“Something wrong?” Simon asked.

Bohr shook his head, but it was clear from his face that something was and he was worried despite Rutherford’s directive.
 

“I am just tired.” He forced a weary smile to his face. “I think I will, what do you say, call it a night, yes?”

“We were just leaving as well,” Elizabeth said. “We can walk out together.”

As they emerged onto the front steps of Lady Edith’s estate, Simon spoke briefly to the head butler who summoned their carriage. Small splatters of rain promised something more and Simon glanced up at the dark clouds. Hopefully, not an ill omen.

“I shall thank you again,” Bohr said with a small bow. “And wish you a good evening.”

He started to walk down the gravel drive, but Elizabeth was quick on her feet.

“Can we give you a lift?” she asked.

He turned and walked backwards. “I like to walk. To think,” he said, and, just as he did, the heavens above opened.
 

“To swim?” Elizabeth said.

Bohr laughed and squinted up into the downpour.

“You’ll catch your death,” Simon said as their growler cab pulled up.

He helped Elizabeth into the large carriage and turned back to Bohr who looked back up at the sky, shielding his eyes. It didn’t look as though it was going to stop any time soon.