“His name is Claude Vadnay, he lived on the estate.”
“Cousin?”
“No, my father’s ward.” She paused then, afraid to be laughed at again. “He is a smithy.”
It was Laviolette’s turn to choke on his breakfast. “A smithy? Lord Vadnay’s daughter is running to New France to find a smithy? Oh, my dear. You will be in all the papers by morning if you aren’t already.”
“He’s not just a smithy! He’s brilliant!” She immediately leaped to Claude’s defense. “He built almost everything on our estate that’s of any use at all. He designed and built my bot, Outil, and she’s amazing!”
“Calm down, I believe you.” He reached across and patted her hand where she had grabbed the tablecloth in earnest. She could feel the heat from his fingers through her glove. He didn’t move his hand away after the last pat, so she did, returning it to her lap.
“You have to forgive me, you see, I’ve just learned that I lost out to a smithy. I’m not used to losing the things I want.” Laviolette leaned back in his chair, gauging her reaction to his confession.
Marguerite blushed and continued as if he hadn’t just admitted what she guessed he was admitting. Laviolette continued.
“So you say his name is Claude Vadnay and he’s a smithy; do you know anything else? Which regiment he joined? Where they were headed? The name of his commander?”
“Of course I do,” she lied quickly, hoping to get past the part where she was an idiot who ran off into the wild with no real information and no real plan.
“Of course you do. And you’ve written to inform him of your plan?”
“Yes, I used your sparkly new wireless telegraph as soon as we were aboard.”
“And have you heard back from him yet?” he inquired before finishing the last of his pastry.
“Of course not, it’s only been one day.” She did not like the judgment in his tone. “Listen, you don’t understand. They wanted me to marry that horrible Delacourte or they were going to ship me off to Lyon to a boarding school.”
“Oh, but I do understand! Marrying the wealthiest, most eligible bachelor in all of France sounds decidedly dreadful. And a school for spoiled rich girls? That’s a terrible, terrible fate.”
“Can you not be serious for more than five minutes at a time? You met Delacourte, you know how he is!”
“Yes, he was rather dull. I don’t know as I’d go so far as to say he’s horrible, but dull. Yes, definitely dull. And this Claude is not dull I take it?”
“No, he’s not. He is wonderful. He’s brilliant, like I said, and kind and fast and brave. He’s not afraid of anything.”
“Sounds like the perfect man for you, then.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. Being on the defensive was getting tedious.
“Never mind. Are you finished? Shall we take a tour of this boat now? Today is smooth sailing. They won’t need me on the bridge until later tonight and tomorrow when we hit the north winds.”
Marguerite was relieved to be done with their conversation about her plans. She did not like discussing Claude with Laviolette. In fact, she didn't like discussing anything with Laviolette. He was a buffoon, making a joke out of everything. All she wanted to do was scoop up every bit of food on the table and take it back to her room to share with Vivienne, but she was also desperate for a tour of the ship and no matter how she schemed, she knew this would have to come from Laviolette.
She took another two bites of eggs and patted her face delicately. “Yes, let’s go see this ship of yours.” As he was standing to help her from her chair she slipped two biscuits into her reticule. Insurance against another hungry afternoon avoiding this very situation.
Chapter Sixteen
The steward jumped back as the couple passed from observatory to lift. “You’ll have to come in the next load, Dixon.” Laviolette waved a hand of warning to the steward as he and Marguerite entered the lift. “Not enough room for decent folks.”
“Yes, Captain.” He looked genuinely disappointed as he handed Marguerite the fur coat once again.
“No thank you.” Even though she knew how cold it was outside she did not fancy feeling it against her face or its smell creeping up her nose.
Both men shrugged at each other and the bot with the pink apron stepped forward to latch the gates. Then she reached over and threw a switch on the wall that kicked the lift into action. It dropped suddenly, causing Marguerite to lose balance and grab Laviolette’s arm. He steadied her and smiled.
“Blasted engineers. You’d think that if they spend years designing a state-of-the-art aership they would at least put a little thought into the lifts.”
“I’m sure they were more concerned with efficiency for the crew, not creature comforts. Besides, you’ve been in the Navy for decades.” Marguerite deliberately stressed the word in hope of making Laviolette feel their age difference. “Haven’t you developed sea legs yet?”
“And just what would you know about efficiency for the crew?” Laviolette had to yell as they passed through the portals in the floor and into the open wind.
Marguerite started to holler her answer back at him but thought better of it. She still had her arm looped through his and desperately wanted to draw it back to hug around herself in defense against the wind, but was also aware that without the coat, Laviolette’s body was the only source of warmth available until they reached the lower decks. She started to shiver as the wind whipped around her, tickling through her dress with its icy fingers. Nevertheless, she gave up his warmth and pulled her arm back, wrapping it tightly around her waist.
She felt Laviolette look at her and was sure she could hear his sigh over the wind, but that was ridiculous. She focused on the gorgeous scenery and took a deep breath again, clearing her head and her lungs as they drifted slowly to the deck.
By the time the lift landed with a thud and a bot whipped the door open, Marguerite was shivering beyond that which she could hide. Laviolette snapped his fingers and hollered an order at a bot who ran into one of the small buildings connected to the large engine on the deck and ran back carrying a blanket. He nodded to the bot and held the blanket aloft for Marguerite’s approval. All along, the engine was thumping and the winds were howling as they flew at top speed toward New France.
She stepped up and grudgingly let him wrap the blanket around her shoulders. He let his hands rest there as he leaned in and spoke directly into her ear.
“Can you see just above that door there, a row of alabaster panels?” His breath was warm, his voice soft on her neck and ear as he pointed over her shoulder.
She nodded.
“Those are the monolythium plates. They take in the sunlight and … ”
“Convert it to heat, which in turn boils the water to produce steam to run the main machine works, but what have you filled the massive envelope with? Please don’t tell me you are using hydrogen gas?” She had to strain her voice for him to hear her cut in.
“Of course not! You’ve been spending a lot of time with your smithy friend after all.” He looked down on her, openly impressed.
“No, my father has a massive library of modern engineering books and journals.” She was practically screaming to be heard over the engines and wind now. “I read!”
“Of course you do.” He chuckled. “Let’s go inside!”
Marguerite held the blanket tightly about her shoulders as Captain Laviolette steered her toward the nearest door to the engine rooms. A bot was at the ready to usher them inside and secure the door behind them. The rush of freezing wind was instantly cut off and replaced by the warm hum of the engines before the pair.
“Not much quieter, but certainly warmer.” Laviolette kept leaning to her ear, nearly brushing it with his lips to communicate. It was unnerving, but Marguerite saw it as a challenge. She would not let this brazen man get the better of her sensibilities.
She walked forward with a purpose, handing her blanket to a
nother bot. “What metals were used to construct the engines?” She placed her gloved hand on the side of a pale gold, thrumming box.
“Aluminum copper alloys mostly.”
“Ah, lightweight but able to withstand corrosion.” Marguerite did not bother to speak loud enough for Laviolette to hear her at this point.
“What was that?” He was at her side in two steps.
“Nothing,” she shouted, turning away from him. “What is this room over here?”
“That is the gas chamber. Where we store the backup gasses for the envelope, er … balloon.”
“I know what an envelope is.”
“Right.” He smiled at her again. “It’s off limits except to bots. Compressed helium is highly explosive.”
She turned back to him and looked down the other end of the engine room. “Well, what else is there to see?”
“Ah! Yes, I suppose I am the one giving the tour.” He made an about-face and offered her his arm. She rolled her eyes and walked ahead.
He trotted to catch up, ignoring her slight. “These are bot maintenance cabins.” He motioned to other doors off the main hallway they’d entered. “Very ingenious, don’t you think? Having the service and storage rooms next to the engine rooms. Saves much space and human hearing. We never have to come down here.” He shouted the last sentence at her as he easily matched her quick pace.
“And here?” She motioned ahead of them.
“The propeller rooms.” He trotted ahead of her and opened the door.
Ice-cold air blasted Marguerite’s hair back from her head once again. She shielded her face and peered inside. Three huge metal propellers spun halo-shaped blurs at the end of each turbine. Bots were milling about, unaffected by the wind or noise. Marguerite shook her head in amazement. Her heart sped up to match the pulse of the engines, racing with the machinery in front of her. She thrilled to see such a modern marvel at work.
Marguerite couldn’t help herself, she started leaning forward, taking the smallest step toward the giant blades. She longed to touch the light gold alloy that encased the engine blocks. She could almost see the gears and cogs working against each other to move the mighty vessel forward.
Laviolette put a hand on her shoulder and gently drew her back. “Sorry, also off limits to humans!” He was shouting again. She appreciated him keeping his distance.
He closed the door and motioned for her to come back down the hall. “Let’s go somewhere that we can hear ourselves think.” He kept his arm to himself this time and strode deliberately to a wooden door in the midst of the metal ports that lead to the bot cabins. He opened it with a sweeping gesture and bowed as she walked through.
A darkened stairway met them. It reminded Marguerite of the cellar back home. Only each step here was carved from shining dark wood instead of cement. The same eeriness crept over her at the thought of plunging downward in the dark. She had the overwhelming desire to sit on the stair as she had back home—was it only two days ago? It seemed like a lifetime.
Her second thought was of the cricket. Her hand dove into her pocket. How could she have forgotten her precious cricket? There it was, smooth and cool, even through her glove. She squeezed it for security just as the door behind her closed and Laviolette flipped a switch flooding the passageway with light.
“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost, my dear.” His voice was laced with genuine concern.
She shook the sentiment off and stepped lightly down the now lit stairs. “It’s merely the evidence of the hurricane I’ve just endured. Where does this passage lead?”
“It’s the private captain’s entrance to the engine rooms and eventually leads to the bridge. I thought you’d like to see where all the decisions are made for the mighty Triumph.” He hopped past her down the stairs as he said this and smiled.
Marguerite knew she would never get over his teeth. No matter how crass or inappropriate he was, no matter how bossy and obnoxious, she would always admire that smile. She allowed herself the enjoyment for just a moment then marched on.
“Yes. I would very much love to see your seat of power.”
He gave a jolly laugh and bounded down the narrow hallway like a boy on summer holidays.
They passed several doors and passages and a few bots. The hallways weren’t as wide or as finely paneled as those near her quarters. Only a handful of lady passengers came their way, each one a giggling mess when they laid eyes on Laviolette. He greeted them all with equal parts courtesy and wicked grin, a fact that annoyed Marguerite and further set her mind against his intentions.
Laviolette pointed out different curiosities as they went: navigation headquarters with a direct speaking-tube to the crow’s nest, a weaponry room kept locked and rarely used on any of His Majesty’s passenger ships, the entrance to the cargo bays and water treatment facilities, and a large, bare room filled with escape pods that Marguerite found most fascinating. They resembled the estate’s rowboats she enjoyed as a child, only they were equipped with collapsible wings that could also work for makeshift sails when assembled upright and an onboard motor of the smallest design she’d ever seen.
“Remarkable!” she murmured to herself.
“Isn’t it, though?” Laviolette was once again genuine. “I had the fondest desire to be a smithy when I was a child, but my parents forbade me even visiting the shops. I did anyway, of course.”
“Of course you did,” Marguerite said absentmindedly as she inspected the fine craftsmanship of the aluminum-copper contraptions.
“I picked up enough to understand the genius behind this work, but I didn’t have access to the libraries and equipment your father has granted you. Quite admirable, actually, that a father would allow his daughter such a scientific education.”
“My father is quite admirable.” Marguerite was puzzled at the thought of parents not encouraging their children to seek after their desires. “It’s a pity you didn’t get to see his entire collection.”
“Perhaps I will.”
“Oh?” She looked at him quizzically.
“After I transport you ladies safely to your destination I’m due one month’s leave. I may just stop by your father’s place. He’ll be grateful for firsthand news of his wayward daughter.”
“Ha! I’d like to see that. He’s not fond of military men.”
“Yes, I gathered. Why is that?”
“I don’t know, actually. Says he’s known enough of them to suit his tastes.”
She noticed Laviolette’s expression fall a bit. “Yes, well, we best be moving along.” He motioned for her to leave with him.
After twisting and turning into the depths of the ship, they finally came up another narrow staircase and across a hallway into a brightly lit room lined with a bank of windows. Under each window was a desk of sorts covered in gauges and buttons, a bot or a human manning each desk.
“Captain on the bridge!” A man near the door stood and shouted. The entire room, including bots, stood and saluted Jacques Laviolette.
“As you were!” Laviolette acknowledged them with a nod of his head and began showing Marguerite the instrumentation. She took in each dial and knob. She had read about these types of vessels. All the new technology for tracking air pressure and wind speeds, combined with more efficient designs and lighter metals, allowed them to travel faster and more efficiently than any other vessel in the history of aeronautics.
She gazed out the almost invisible glass and took in the view one more time. If only her cabin had this view, she would never leave from dawn till dusk.
“What’s that?” Laviolette looked at her with a puzzled expression.
“Oh, I didn’t realize I was speaking out loud.” She charged ahead. “I was just saying that if my cabin had this view I would sit from dawn to dusk, never taking my eyes off it.”
“Hmm.” Laviolette looked out the window as well. “My cabin does.”
She looked back at him expecting sarcasm and that
inappropriate grin. But he was still gazing at the horizon.
“Helmsman Twelve,” he barked over his shoulder.
“Yes, Captain?” a bot answered.
“Run an analysis of that storm system off the starboard. I don’t like the looks of it. We can’t afford to run into any Barbary Storm Riders this trip.”
“What is a storm rider?” Marguerite had read much of Barbary corsairs, looting and pillaging ships flying above the open seas. They were skilled aermen; even in their outdated dirigibles they had been rumored to catch and lay siege to the greatest of Europe’s flying ships.
“Nothing too terrible. Just a new group of corsairs who follow the storms, using them as cover to attack unsuspecting ships. But I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s highly unlikely they would be this far north this time of year and also highly unlikely that they would be able to catch the Triumph.” He patted a metal beam with pride. “She’s the fastest ship on Earth.”
Marguerite stared at the dark clouds forming to the southwest of the ship and wondered at a race of people who would choose to live their lives in a perpetual storm. “How do they control their ships?”
“We’re not sure. It’s one of the great pirate mysteries.” He looked back at her. “But really, you shouldn’t worry about it. Would you like to see the steerage?” He raised his eyebrows, trying to hide the grin at his own joke.
“No, I should be getting back to Vivienne. She’s still not recovered from our early departure yesterday.”
“I’ll see you to your room.”
The couple left the bridge and traveled a much shorter distance up a single flight of stairs and down a small hallway to her cabin. Their talk was light along the way. Marguerite shed her bristles and asked a number of questions about the basic mechanics of some of the things she’d seen and Laviolette was more than happy to answer, eager to talk about his new command. They passed an ornate door with a large knocker.
“What is this?” Marguerite eyed the portal. It seemed out of place in the streamlined and very modern ship.
The Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl Page 12
