The Road to Gremmington

The ten mile ride from Aldenburgh to Gremmington ought to have been easy. Arabella shivered as she watched the coach driver replace the flat tire. Of course the first time I go alone, something goes wrong, she thought. Though it wasn’t her fault the tire had popped. She looked back at the broken glass, still shimmering in the dirt road on the side of the hill. Had he been able to see it sooner, the driver could have swerved to avoid it. Where on the earth had the blasted stuff come from anyway? Arabella didn’t know, but she certainly didn’t have anything good to say of the person who left it there.

Gremmington loomed in the distance, its large and hulking figure a black splotch against the grey moors around them. A soft breeze picked up a screeching train whistle from afar. The five o’clock train; they were late.

As the whistle faded, Arabella could hear another faint whistle coming down the road. A clopping and creaking soon accompanied the whistle’s tune. A horse and carriage crested the hill behind them, with a bearded man at the front. He wore a simple hat and coat and paused his whistling when he noticed the broken car.

“Woah, there,” he called to the horse. Pulling in the reins, he stopped the carriage right next to Arabella and her driver. “Need any help there?” he addressed the coach driver.

The coach driver stood up from his work, wiping his grimy hands on a rag. “Yes, well, I can change the tire on m’own alright, but it’ll take some time for the steam to build back up,” he explained. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid a second hand won’t help us get to the miss’s destination on time.”

“Ah, what a shame,” the man replied, adjusting his hat. “Well, where are you off to?”

“Gremmington, sir,” was the answer.

“Well, then!” A smile broke out on the man’s face. “You’re in luck. I’m headed to Gremmington myself, and with an empty carriage, too. I’d be glad to take the lovely lady to her destination, if you think that’d be any faster.”

“Well… it would…” The coach driver rubbed his chin as he thought, looking from the car, to Arabella, to the man, and back to Arabella. “What do you think of it, miss? I would hate to make you stand around waiting.”

Arabella thought for a moment, examining the man as she considered her options. After all, she would also hate to stand around waiting.

“It would probably be for the best,” she decided. “You know how uncle frets when we’re late.” The driver nodded in agreement.

“Well, come along then!” the man encouraged, waving her over to the carriage. “We’d better not waste anymore time.”

Arabella lifted her skirts as she hoisted herself up into the small compartment. Glancing at her new companion, she discreetly noted the ring on the man’s finger. Mother would blame the chaperone for letting her go with a complete stranger, but at least he was married.

Arabella said goodbye to her driver, the man flicked his reins, and they were off down the road a swift trot.

“You have family in Gremmington?” the man asked cheerfully as they rolled down the road.

“Yes, my Uncle Mortimer,” Arabella replied, holding onto the front of her seat as she adjusted to the bumpiness of the carriage. It had been a long time since she had been in a horse-drawn vehicle, and she was beginning to remember why she like steam engines better.

“Ah, the inventor? Never thought I’d bump into a Beggley.”

“A Porter, actually,” Arabella corrected him. “He’s on my mother’s side.”

“Ah, I see, I see.” He paused as he steered the horse around a sharp turn. “Oh! My apologies, I never introduce myself. I’m a Baker, Richard Baker, though I doubt you’ve heard the name. I’ve got a wife and kids back in Gremmington. Sweetest things you’ll ever meet.”

“Were you out of town for business?” Arabella asked.

“Yes, indeed. I started out as a taxi in Gremmington, until they passed that new law.”

“What new law?” The letters Uncle Mortimer sent her family had informed Arabella of many new laws being made, but she hadn’t heard of anything against taxi services.

“Any business offering transportation must use a steam-powered vehicle,” Baker informed her. “It’s a rotten rule that’s causing a lot more trouble than unity, but they’re so intent on pushing those new steam engines they can’t see the error of their ways. Anyway—I don’t usually talk politics with passengers, my apologies. Anyway, ever since they passed it I’ve been riding up to Aldenburgh each morning to offer my services there. I can’t charge anyone for a trip out or into Gremmington, but there’s plenty enough business in Aldenburgh. I’ll tell you, the people over there got their heads screwed on right.” He nodded wisely.

“Yes, they do indeed,” Arabella agreed. “I’m from Aldenburgh myself, and the farther away I travel from it, the more amazed I am at the strange ideas I find.”

Baker broke out laughing, filling the empty field around them with a deep resonating sound. “Ah, haha, wait til you see what’s in the town square at Gremmington—” Interrupted by his own laughter, he began again. “—right in the middle of it, for all the town to see. Some fellow’s building a ladder to the moon.” He continued laughing, but Arabella did not find it funny.

“A what?” she said, not believing her ears. “But that’s impossible! Why would anyone build such a thing?”

“Ah, hm, beats me,” Baker replied, catching his breath. “Mrs. Baker thinks it’s some sort of Tower of Babble situation.”

“Hmph,” Arabella sat back in her seat and looked out the window at the rolling plains. “People didn’t laugh at the tower of Babble. It was meant as a sign of man’s pride and power, not his foolishness.”

“True, true,” Baker’s voice became more thoughtful as he grew sober. “I think you inherited more of your uncle’s wit than you give yourself credit for.” Arabella smiled quietly to herself. In her mind, this was a compliment of the highest honor. “But do you know what people did laugh at?” Baker asked after a moment.

“What?” Arabella returned politely, her mood improved.

“Noah’s Ark.”

The rest of the journey was short and silent. The wind picked up just as they neared Gremmington’s large gate. The thick clouds above them began shifting, and Arabella was surprised when rays of sunlight poured out instead of rain. It was near sunset, and the red glow on the bleak fields created a mystical effect.

At the gates, they were stopped by an officer, who requested to see Baker’s papers. After glancing over the writing, he let them go, reminding them that horse-drawn vehicles could not demand payment for their services. Baker’s response of, “Understood,” sounded as though he was more annoyed by these reminders than the new law.

Arabella told Baker Uncle Mortimer’s address, and they were soon at his doorstep. Uncle Mortimer came running down the large stone stairs to greet them, practically tripping over his own cane.

“Where in the blazes have you been?” he bubbled, helping Arabella out of the carriage. “And where on Earth is your driver? Almost an hour late, and on your first journey alone, I was sick with worry. Did something happen to the car?” In the lamplight, Arabella could see the concern creased on his old face. She couldn’t help the small smile that crept across her face.

“No, well, yes, but nothing serious,” she explained. “We popped a tire, and the steam needed to build up again. Mr. Baker here was passing by and offered to give me a ride. The driver should be here with the car shortly.”

“Ah, I see, I see,” Mortimer said, breathing easy again. “I was worried about nothing, once again.” He chuckled to himself then turned and smiled at Baker. “Well, thank you ever so much for bringing her safely home. Would you accept anything in return?”

“Well, I’d better not,” Baker replied, though he beamed at the gratitude. “Honest, being able to say I’ve made your acquaintance is enough payment for me.”

“Really? Nothing else? Will you come inside for a cup of tea?” Mortimer offered, gesturing to the elaborately decorated doors of the manner. A curious young maid was just coming out to see what all the fuss was.

Baker shook his head. “I best not. I have to get back to the wife and kids.”

“Ah! Children!” Upon this revelation, Mortimer turned to the girl who had joined them. “Patricia, fetch us a bag of gumdrops, will you?” As Patricia hurried off to fulfill her task, Mortimer turned back to Baker. “Call it, a uh, early Christmas present if they give you any trouble.” He winked.

Baker gratefully accepted the gumdrops. He thanked Mortimer for his generosity and Arabella for her company. Then he said goodnight to both of them and took his leave, clopping and creaking down the cobblestone streets. Mortimer and Arabella went inside to dinner, and afterward, Arabella went up to the roof to see this ladder for herself.

Uncle Mortimer’s mansion sat a few blocks down from Gremmington square, but it was tall enough that, sitting on the large terrace on the top floor, one had a clear view of almost the whole city below. Including the fabled ladder.

The clouds were parted, the sun had set, and the ladder’s destination shone bright white light down over the huge city. There it was. The wooden ladder, bolted and braced with metal bits, was already as tall as a small building. Arabella sat down and leaned against the metal railing of the balcony. From her perch, she watched the people below scrambling across the street to get home, like little worker ants after a long day. Even at this late hour, they still paused to gawk at the large spectacle in the middle of the square.

Uncle Mortimer joined her shortly, his cane tapping on the tiled floor alerted Arabella to his presence. She did not look up to greet him, but kept her eyes fixed on the strange attraction.

“I see you’ve heard of the newest oddity,” her uncle said casually. She could hear the smile in his voice as he came up next to her and watched the ladder.

“You might have mentioned it in one of your letters,” Arabella said.

“Yes, I could have, but I didn’t want to influence your opinion of it before you saw the real thing.” Mortimer put one hand on the metal railing and leaned on that instead of the cane. “What do you think of it?”

Arabella shook her head slowly. “It is a crazy world we live in, uncle.”

“Yes… but, my dear, we are what makes it crazy.” Mortimer paused and then took a breath to continue, waving his cane around with a flourish. “You know, when I was your age, people called me crazy. They said I was too young to have such ambitious ideas and aspirations. If I had stopped inventing when they told me all that, would I be where I am today? Would I have my wealth and house? You know, your parents met at one of my conventions; would you even be here today if I stopped at the first person who told me I was crazy?”

“I don’t see your point, uncle Mortimer,” Arabella snapped. “Your inventions were great ideas. They have improved countless lives, but that—thing!” She pointed through the bars at the atrocious ladder. “It’s completely useless! No one could build a ladder to the moon, even if they could survive in space. It’s a waste of perfectly good material.”

“That may be so,” Mortimer agreed. “But then you’re missing another point. Why do people do anything?” He paused, but Arabella had set her jaw and was glaring fixedly at the ladder. “Because they want to change something,” he finished. “If any man wants the world to go on the way it is, he has nothing more to do than what he has already been doing for ages. I kept inventing because I wanted to change the world for the better. And that man down there,” he pointed his cane at the ladder. “Whoever he may be, started building that ladder because he is trying to change something.” He lowered his cane again. “And if he truly believes it needs to be changed, he isn’t going to stop even if the whole world thinks he’s crazy. If nothing we say will stop him, why should we bother to point out his foolishness? Why waste our time pondering what he is trying to change?” He turned to Arabella. “My question for you, my dear, is this: what are you going to change in the world?”

Arabella looked up at her uncle’s tall figure, his green eyes glinting in the darkness as he gazed at her. He was not smiling anymore; he was completely serious and listening intently for an answer that Arabella did not have. She stared at him silently for a moment, frustration and annoyance leaving her mind. Then she sighed quietly and looked back at the ladder serenely.