She wanted to lash out, to set Vuitton straight. They were absolutely not lovers. Instead, she nodded. “Yes, sir. Come on Outil. Let’s get this over with.”
“Oh, no.” Vuitton took the paper from her hand. “This says, Second Officer Vadnay. It says nothing about your bot. We need Outil’s help getting all these crates to their cannons before it’s time to use them.”
“But sir … ”
“I’m sure you’ll be just fine walking up there on your own. Now snap to it! Don’t keep the bridge waiting!” Vuitton dismissed her with a wave of his arm. Marguerite was both furious and frightened. What if he was angry? What if he was already turning the ship around to take her home? She couldn’t bear the wondering, and the long walk up the tiny stairs, through the upper deck, and around to the bridge was infernally long.
The Triumph had boasted a captain’s deck and a bridge, high above the body of the vessel, attached precariously to a structure that housed the giant round envelope. Marguerite remembered her first journey in the small banging lift, where she’d eaten her first real meal in days with Jacques, surrounded by an epic view of the oceans below them. She did not doubt that this meeting would be just as memorable. The envelope for the Renegade was much more sleek and streamlined for speed and war, making it impractical to house the bridge in the air. Marguerite could hear the wind howling and rain slapping the deck above her as she walked through to the fore of the ship. At least she didn’t have to see him completely disheveled and wet.
The Renegade housed its bridge in the fore, just below one of its enormous razor-tipped ramrods. Windows lined the front most portion of the hull, allowing the officers to see what lay before them without having to subject themselves to the elements.
She finally reached the opening to the busy area. A crowd of men and two women—neither of whom were very pretty, Marguerite noted with satisfaction—were scurrying about with tools and maps and goggles, intent on their work. She stared at them and suddenly wasn’t so keen about her assignment. This is where I belong. Not down in the belly with the explosives and people missing their teeth.
She touched her hair self-consciously and looked at the black gun oil stain on her fingers. A young man approached her and glanced at her grease-streaked hair, then the rank on her uniform. “Can I help you, Officer?”
“Yes, I am Officer Vadnay, I believe Captain Laviolette requested my presence?” she tried to sound confident, even though she felt sheepish and nervous.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll go find him.”
The boy hadn’t turned completely around before Jacques was upon them. When she saw his face, stern and furrowed, Marguerite couldn’t move. What was he going to say? She’d lied to him less than forty-eight hours earlier. She’d hidden her plans from him and even kissed him passionately goodbye when Outil hadn’t been looking. She began to panic. What had she done?
Then he smiled his beautiful smile at her, all of his teeth white and sitting exactly where they should be, his eyes twinkling and his tone merry. “Ah! The lovely Lady Vadnay.” He bowed low. The warm welcome was worse than if he’d immediately berated her. Something was not right. Maybe he was ill? Except he looked healthy as ever and even quite dashing in his captain’s best. The rest of the bridge turned to look at the exchange and watched curiously.
“Imagine my great surprise when I saw your name on my ship’s manifest this morning. What an honor to have a lady of your standing aboard the Renegade.” He smiled again. “I believe you are serving in ballistics?”
“Yes, Captain.”
He sounded genuinely pleasant. Maybe he wasn’t mad at all? Maybe he was happy to see her. She pushed aside the doubt and smiled.
“That doesn’t seem like the right place for a lady to be serving on a warship.” He stretched out the word lady again and scratched his chin. Marguerite didn’t like the way he was saying lady.
“Oh, but I scored excellent marks in ballistics. They made me second in command.”
“Yes, I’m sure they did. Excellent.”
“If you have something else in mind, Captain?”
This could be it! She thought excitedly. He’s not mad, and he’s going to invite me to work with him on the bridge! He knows as well as anyone that I am cool under pressure and a crack shot. Plus, I know my way around the instruments, and I’m a quick learner. This is all just a show for the rest of the crew.
“Actually, since you mentioned it, I do have something else in mind. Come with me. Henry! You have the bridge. I need ten minutes.” He smiled again, only Marguerite realized this time that his smile did not meet his eyes.
He took her arm, not gently, and steered her back through the hall and down a tight corridor. It was too close to walk side by side, so he was pressed against her and forcing her to walk quickly in front of him. If she hadn’t been so confused about the direction events were about to take, she may have said something snarky to him about excuses to get close. She decided instead to try apologizing. Surely she owed him that.
“Jacques, I’m very sorry. It’s just that I thought you’d be upset …”
He held up a hand to silence her then pulled them both to a stop at a speaking port on the wall. He pressed a button and spoke into the screened circle opening. “Marshton, are we in place?”
A squall answered back, “Yes, Captain.”
“Good. I will be there in five minutes with the package.” He flipped the button off and directed Marguerite to a door across the way. He reached around her and pushed down the brass handle while shoving it open in one quick movement. His second movement was to shove Marguerite inside as well.
The room was obviously private quarters. A bed sat in the middle. Made neatly, covers tight, pillows just so. A comfortable chair sat in one corner and a wardrobe in the other. A little table flanked the chair, and a large table in the middle of the room was covered in maps and sextons, a gleaming brass auto compass, and a pot of ink. Everything was neat and tidy and in its place. There was no sign of anyone having ever been in the room except for the mess of maps and charts on the table.
She turned around and glared at Jacques. “This is your room,” she hissed.
“Of course it is, I need to speak with you in private, and this is the only room on the ship where we will not be disturbed.”
“I do not know what your game is, sir, but that kiss the other day was not an invitation for a private meeting in your bed quarters!”
Jacques laughed at her outburst. “How did it end up that you are now cross with me? Aren’t I the one you lied to, mislead, and made a fool of in front of his first officers and bridgemates?”
Jacques donned a false voice and flipped his hands in the air as he said, “Oh, Captain, how good of you to place Lady Vadnay in the ballistics team. Good show of faith in the Lady despite her lack of aviation skills. Oh, Captain, how lovely that your little protégé is joining us. I’m sure she will prove good company for long nights at sea. Oh, Captain—”
“Enough! I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean for you to look a fool. I only wanted to have this adventure with you. I needed to get off land, Jacques!” She put her fists on her hips and held her place.
“That’s exactly the problem. You only ever think about yourself. You never consider the positions you put other people in. It’s always what will make you happy or what will keep you from feeling bored.”
“That is not true!” Marguerite folded her arms and felt a bit like a child, but she couldn’t help her lower lip sticking out a bit with hurt.
“Oh, isn’t it, though?” He put one hand on his forehead and pushed his hat back then rubbed at his hair. “What did you think anyone else would gain from any of your little adventures? Hmm? Is your father so sick of you already? Does Outil actually want to be out at sea risking her life with pirates? How about Vivienne?”
“That’s not fair. You didn’t even know her.” Marguerite’s pout was turning into a fury. Tears boiled in her eyes, threateni
ng to fall. Her nose felt tight, and it was getting hard to breathe.
“I knew her well enough, and I know you. You probably didn’t even take the time to research what this voyage is actually all about or why I’m leading it, did you?”
He had her there. She hadn’t asked anything when they’d summoned her, or when she’d spoken to Dean Beaumont. She supposed she could have probed a bit deeper, but that was beside the point. He was attacking her. “No. I didn’t need to. We are going after pirates and to protect the king’s fleet of supply ships.”
“Why do you think His Royal Majesty would put a barely aether-worthy aerman who blew up his last ship—one of the finest ever built for king and country—in charge of a fleet of ships headed into such an important mission?”
“I … I thought it was because you are so good at what you do,” Marguerite stammered. She hadn’t thought about this either. “Besides, your name was cleared in the inquisition. It wasn’t your fault the Triumph was lost. I don’t see what this has to do with anything.” She flipped at the map corner hanging off the little table and tapped her foot with impatience and discomfort.
“Exactly. You don’t see. You don’t want to see, and you don’t care to see anyone but yourself. The reason they gave me the commission is because no one else wanted it. They all have families, Marguerite. The whole goal of New France right now is to settle, serve and survive. Once a soldier takes a wife, they have one year reprieve from service to start their family and build a home. Everyone there has taken a wife and land and started a settlement. I have half a crew of babies, because there’s not a single soldier to be found who isn’t supporting a wife and child now. I have no wife. I have no child. Therefore, I have no say in where I am assigned. I go wherever his majesty’s whim takes me. This time it’s on a suicide mission.”
“Surely it’s not as dangerous as all that,” she insisted. “You have plenty of arms and support and bots. The armory on this dirigible alone could take down the Palace of Westminster.”
“Yes, we will outnumber them, outgun them, and outmaneuver them. Hopefully, we will bring the shipments back safely and take a few pirates down with us, but that is not my only assignment. And don’t think that this mission won’t be pocked with casualties.”
Marguerite took a deep breath. “So, you’re telling me that I am selfish for not marrying you and saving you from having to risk your life to fight pirates? And that I should forget all of my dreams, so I can settle down and have your babies? And that is not selfish?”
“Marguerite!” He put both hands on his head and closed his eyes, a sure sign he was losing his temper. Then he took a deep breath and began to pace in the tiny space, turning tightly, obviously straining himself to come up with the next words. He stopped suddenly. “Do you know what the southern buccaneers do to women when they capture them? If you’re thinking they kill them, you are wrong. They never kill women. They take as many prisoners as possible, men and women. The men are given a choice—pledge allegiance to the pirate captain, or be marooned on an island or tortured, depending on the captain’s fancy that day. Women, on the other hand, are forced to serve the pirates, and I don’t mean in the galley, or being sold as a slave in the islands. I would rather you be stuck at home miserably caring for babies than ever have that fate be a possibility.”
“You exaggerate to scare me. I’ve read nothing so heinous in the journals. ” Marguerite met him mid-stride and got as close to his face as she dared, just to make certain he knew exactly how she felt. “You have always wanted to control me. You say you love me, but you don’t. It is all about control, and that will never happen.”
In one swift move he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a kiss. Marguerite pushed back, but he didn’t let her go. He put both arms around her and kissed her like his life depended on it. Then just as suddenly he let her go, keeping one hand on her waist.
“That is very true. I will never be able to control you, and despite what you think, I never want to. I’m trying to tell you that I may not come home from this mission, but I’m going to make certain that you do. I do not have control over your choices, but I am still captain of the Renegade, and I have complete control over who serves on my ship.”
Chapter Eleven
Jacques left no time for her to question him or disagree. He opened the door and pulled her by the hand back into the passageway, marching forward so quickly she had to jog to keep up. They came to a ladder midway down the hall that appeared to lead to the deck above. Jacques hit a button on the wall and a trap door atop the ladder slid open. Rain began to pour onto their heads and into their eyes. Marguerite was in such a state of shock the only words she could manage were, “Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere safe. Up you go.” He grabbed her waist from behind with both hands and practically threw her toward the opening. Marguerite squealed out loud and grabbed the top rung. It was slick with rain now, and she barely caught it. Her left foot found purchase on a rung a tad farther down but, at least, she didn’t fall. She had no choice now but to climb. Jacques was already climbing below her, his head nearly in her backside. She knew she couldn’t win a hand-to-hand fight with him. Not even a foot-to-face fight would come out in her favor.
She pulled herself up grudgingly into the rain and wind. Two very small deck hands were there to help her up. She could see another aership hovering just above her head, a ladder dangling from the side. Its brown oval envelope was kissing the black envelope of the Renegade.
Jacques was behind her in a moment. He shielded his face from the deluge and pointed to the ladder. “Tie her down, lads!” The two boys quickly jumped to attention and fastened the dangling ends of the rope ladder to the deck of the black warship. “I’m sure they will have adequate necessities for you on the Henrietta,” Jacques said.
“The Henrietta? You are putting me on the ship with the worst name in the history of aerships? Jacques, how could you?” Marguerite stomped her foot. Rain ran over her face and hair, beading up over the pigeon grease and soaking her uniform through.
“Only because I love you!” He shouted through the rain and wind. “Now go!” The two deck boys snickered. Marguerite gave them dirty looks.
“What about Outil?” Marguerite protested as he steered her to the ladder, much more gently this time.
“She is needed here. I will send her to join you as soon as possible.”
“You can’t do that! She is my property! Plus, I can’t go alone! You are being completely unreasonable!” She hadn’t felt this close to throwing a complete tantrum since her father had told her she was going to boarding school back in France.
“Some would argue with you there, my dear, but we don’t have time to fight about the finer points of bot slavery. If she really is your property, and you really want to help the cause, then as the King’s servant, I am commandeering her for the time being.”
“But, Jacques!”
“Captain Laviolette, please.”
“I’ll go with her, sir!” One of the deckhands offered. Marguerite glared at him through the rain. She recognized his face and scruffy red hair peeking out from under his rain-soaked cap.
“Louis?” she asked.
“You know him?” Jacques said. “Very well. We don’t want the lady to go without all of her servants. Keep an eye on her, Louis. And help out on the Henrietta as best you can. Take a turn in the nest and give Captain Butterfield my best.”
“Yes, captain!” The boy saluted and scurried up the ladder to the deck of the other ship. “I have to get back to the bridge. We have precious little time to prepare. Get up that ladder now, or I’ll strap you to a parachute. I doubt the Iroquois will deal with you as kindly as I do.”
“Jacques!” she cried.
“Go!” He pointed again.
To the left, she saw her small trunk being hoisted off the deck by a rope on the Henrietta. She watched it whip and twirl in the wind and rain. Everything she loved w
as in that box, her new goggles, her extra flight suit and a book of aernautics she wasn’t quite done studying, and three more pairs of pink silk underthings. She watched in anxiety until it was pulled to safety on the smaller ship.
She tried to give Jacques one last look of hatred, but she found her heart didn’t have the energy to hate him or to fight him. She knew he would keep his word to put her in a parachute or worse, the brig. He had to. He couldn’t let his men see him taking orders from a woman he wasn’t even engaged to.
She took a few steps to the ladder and began to climb. The wind continued to blow rain into her face. The wooden rungs were slippery, and she was grateful for her water resistant boots. The soles had been painted with a tar-like concoction that made them excellent for walking a wet deck, or climbing a slippery rope ladder from one aership to another, thousands of feet above the earth. The ropes stretched and twisted slightly. The higher she climbed, the less stable she felt. Her body bobbed to either side every time she took a step. She looked down and saw the space between the two ships was just enough that should she slip or let go, she would plummet all the way to the St. Lawrence sprawled below her, or to the trees flanking the shores. She found herself freezing up about halfway to the Henrietta. Her arms shaking and her feet stuck to the rung. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, water dripping into her mouth.
“You wanted this,” she reminded herself out loud. “You wanted adventure. What’s more adventurous than a forced ship transfer in the midst of the aether with no harness?”
Then with her eyes closed, she forced herself to take hold of the next rung up. She took another deep breath and pictured the rope ladder in her father’s stables back home. She’d loved to climb it when she was a child. It was never soaking wet and hovering this high over nothing, but she remembered herself scampering up it just like Louis had. She tried to harness that child inside of her.
“Come on! You’re nearly there!” Jacques cried.
Perilous Journey of the Much-Too-Spontaneous Girl Page 7
