Alice had gone as white as the damask tablecloth. “The girls will help me, Mr. Malvern. I won’t trouble you.”
“Nonsense.” The count looked her in the eye, and if it were possible, her skin paled even further. “As a personal favor to me, Fraulein Alice, I beg you to accept Herr Malvern’s assistance. I wish to continue our discussions of automata over dinner this evening, and if something were to prevent it, I should be most distressed.”
“Nothing will prevent it, sir,” she managed. “But—”
“Good. It is settled, then. Shall we lift at eleven o’clock? I will notify the port authority.”
And so it was done.
Andrew would have an entire day within the cramped confines of the Stalwart Lass with three children who all had a bad habit of popping up when one least wanted them. The possibility of seeing Alice alone for even a moment to apologize for his behavior seemed more remote than ever. And yet, the prospect of five hundred miles of strained white politeness was unendurable.
Something would have to give.
Chapter 12
“Claire.” Alice put a hand on Claire’s sleeve, and even through the fine batiste, her fingers felt chilled. “You have to help me.”
“Of course.” After transferring Rosie to her left shoulder, Claire tucked Alice’s cold hand into the crook of her arm and drew her into her cabin, where her valise sat packed and ready for lift. She had packed it before breakfast, having a feeling that Davina’s concern for Willie’s safety would carry the day. “What is it?”
“You have to fly with me, and manage the engine. I can’t—we have to—” She broke off with a gasp that sounded almost like a sob. “Please.”
Was this Alice? Had someone switched her sensible, down-to-earth friend with this pale woman whose hands were now tucked into her armpits as if she had an ague?
“Alice, whatever is the matter? Here, sit by me.” Claire put Rosie on the bedside table and sat on the velvet coverlet of her bunk, but Alice did not. Instead, she paced from door to porthole and back again.
Rosie shot her a gimlet glare and proceeded to preen her feathers.
“I can’t sit. I feel ready to fly out of my skin. I wish I’d never come here. I wish I’d gone when I wanted to go, and not let hope flamboozle me into staying. Hope will kill you every time, Claire, like a rattler on a rock.”
“You are not entirely making sense,” she said gently. “Please, dear. What has happened?”
“I can’t tell you,” Alice moaned. “But you have to come with me. I can’t fly all that way with him, whether the girls are aboard or not.”
Claire’s eyes widened as the real source of her friend’s agitation became clear. A strange, chilly feeling settled in her stomach. “You mean … Mr. Malvern?”
Alice leaned her forehead on the panels of the bed cabinet. “Yes, Mr. Malvern,” she said into the glossy wood. “Who else?”
“Did something happen last night? Has there been some other trouble?”
A huff of breath might have passed for a laugh. “Trouble. Yeah. Only I would see it as trouble. Any other woman with a lick of sense might have enjoyed it, but me? I’m a darned fool.”
The chilly feeling solidified into certainty. Claire was no mathematician, but she could put two and two together as well as the next person. Speaking aloud the sum of her conclusions was another matter.
“He escorted me over to the Tiller,” Alice said, turning to lean a shoulder on the cabinet. “I talked with Mike, and then we came back. And under the Margrethe, in the shadow, he—he—”
“He kissed you?” Claire whispered.
“Yes!” Alice wailed, and flung herself down on the bunk, burying her face in Claire’s shoulder. “I know it was wrong, but I liked it! Until I thought about him, and you, and what a mess it all is, and so I—I ran away.” She sighed, and sat up, swiping the flat of her hand over her cheek.
Claire’s face felt stiff. But this was ridiculous. She herself had been kissed by another man last evening, and had been just as confused as Alice was now. Was she such a dog in the manger that she could begrudge Andrew’s giving a kiss when she had been guilty of accepting one with every appearance of enjoying it?
She could not say such things. Better to let her friend talk away her burden, and keep her own secrets and shortcomings to herself. “Alice, do you care for him?”
“I don’t know. I admire him. He can’t care for me, that’s certain. He was only amusing himself. I know that. Why else would he …?”
“How can you be so sure? After your appearance in that gown last night, I know he sees you differently.”
“I don’t want to be seen like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like … like some fragile porcelain shepherdess in a pretty gown, who needs to be protected and escorted and wrapped in cotton wool when she’s put away at night.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t—”
“I’ll tell you for true, he never thought about kissing me before he saw me in that dress.”
Put like that, Claire could hardly argue. “He sees you as a woman, perhaps, not as a mechanic in pants and flight goggles. There is nothing wrong with that.”
“Shouldn’t make any difference. I’m still me, whether I’ve got grease on my face, or powder.”
“You’re quite right, it shouldn’t.” She squeezed Alice’s shoulders and made a decision. “Cheer up. We’re both in the same boat. Captain Hollys kissed me last night, too, and very thoroughly at that.”
Alice sat up straight and gaped at her. “He did? When?”
“At the ball. A moment later I came in from the terrace and found you, and then we met Peony.”
“No wonder you were all colored up. I just thought you’d been dancing.” She huffed another breath, of discovery this time. “So you and Mr. Malvern …?”
Now it was Claire’s turn to lay her cheek on Alice’s shoulder. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t. I don’t even understand myself. How can I enjoy another man’s kiss when all this time I thought I cared for Andrew?”
“Thought? You mean you don’t?”
“Of course I do.” Oh, how could she explain her feelings? They were feelings, not theories or maps or anything else that could be understood and put into words. “I admire him enormously, and like him. He is my friend, the person I trust with my very life. But the trouble is, I can say all those things of you, too.”
A smile flickered over Alice’s lips, then went out.
“I care—I must,” Claire said, half to herself, “or I would not have felt such jealousy a moment ago, when you told me he’d kissed you.”
“Claire, please say I haven’t hurt you. I couldn’t bear it. It was so sudden, and—and it was my first time, and—”
“I know what you mean. Andrew was my first kiss, too.”
“We’ll have to form a club.”
That startled her into a laugh. Rosie, who had settled onto the nightstand in sphinx-like repose, looked alarmed until Claire passed a soothing hand over her feathers. “You have not hurt me. If anything, you’ve made me see something about myself that I hadn’t before.”
“And what’s that? We both have excellent taste in men?”
Another smile. “That … and the fact that we can admire the same man and still be friends.” How was that possible? If the flickers were any authority to go by, they should hate each other. “That’s rather remarkable, don’t you think?”
Alice nodded. Her hands, which had been clasped tightly in her lap, relaxed. “You don’t hate me? Because I’ve seen some pretty ugly things at the Resolute Rose, when two of the girls both wanted the same man.”
“I admit, I have been feeling a little jealous since we left Reno, which is ridiculous. I am not proud of it. You and I have seen some dreadful things together. I should think—Alice, I hope—that this would strengthen our regard, not cause us to hate one another.”
Alice hugged her. “You’re a peach.”
“And so
are you.”
“But meanwhile, here I am with five hundred miles of sky to deal with.”
“I imagine Andrew is every bit as agitated about this as you are. Perhaps it will be a relief to know that I would rather act as your engineer than sit on the Lady Lucy staring out the window wondering how the girls are doing. We might even send a message to the count suggesting that he give Andrew a working tour of the Margrethe. After all, we do not know if he will get another opportunity.”
“I knew you would help me.”
“Didn’t you tell me once that we women must stick together?”
“I meant it.”
“And so do I.” Claire got up and extended a hand to pull Alice to her feet. “Come. Rosie and I will help you pack. I do not think all of your new clothes are going to fit into your locker on the Lass, so we will have to ask Davina if you may borrow a trunk.”
*
The Mopsies were delighted that they were to have the Lady practically to themselves for the flight to the diamond fields … though by the fourth hour, when it appeared they would not be called upon to defend the ship, they began to get restless.
“How much further?” Lizzie whined, gazing down at the endless stretch of land far below, covered in thin pines and punctuated occasionally by a lake or a river. “There ent a thing down there but trees.”
“And reindeer,” Maggie put in, pointing. “There’s another ’erd.”
“They call them caribou in these parts,” Alice said. “That’s a big herd. Must be thousands of them.”
“I do hope Davina does not want to put down and shoot one.” Claire came to join her at the window as they sailed over the enormous running flow of animals, which swerved under the airships’ three shadows and galloped in the opposite direction.
But the Lady Lucy did not alter her elevation, merely kept a steady speed and an unchanging heading of north by northwest.
Lizzie wandered back toward the engine, and a moment later popped back into the gondola. “Alice—we gots a pigeon coming.”
“A pigeon,” Alice repeated blankly. “Where on earth from? There is nothing here for miles.”
“It dropped out of the Land-whatsit’s belly, behind us. Maybe the count will fly over and visit.”
“Lizzie, the count is hardly likely to strap on a rocket pack at his age,” Claire said, smiling at the picture. “It is probably a message between captains.”
But it was not.
When the pigeon tucked itself into its landing bay, Alice pulled the pouch out of its belly and read the piece of paper within. Then, her lips thinning, she handed it to Claire and stalked forward to relieve a protesting Jake at the tiller.
Dear Alice,
In the absence of a single moment alone with you, and in the face of Claire’s sudden change of mind, I have contrived to communicate in this rather unusual manner. The count is a gracious host, and his pigeons being otherwise unoccupied, he has allowed me the use of one.
I wish to apologize for my behavior of last night. It was unpardonable and you have every right not to speak to me.
However, I hope that in time you will find it in your heart to forgive me. I should not like to see you take to the skies knowing that you had not.
Sincerely,
Andrew Malvern
Claire folded the letter under Lizzie’s inquisitive gaze. “I beg yer pardon, wot’s ’at?”
“It is a letter to Alice, and none of our business.”
“But she gave it to you to read.”
Drat Lizzie’s logical mind. “She did. It is from Mr. Malvern, on the Margrethe.”
Lizzie’s jaw dropped a little. “Mr. Malvern is sendin’ our Alice letters in the middle of the sky? Is ’e in love wiv ’er, now, and not you?”
Good heavens. “Lizzie, for pity’s sake, where on earth do you get your ideas?”
“Tisn’t an idea, is it, Mags?” She appealed to her sister, who was sitting at the map station cutting up a slab of chocolate with Jake’s knife. “Mr. Malvern’s sweet on t’Lady, innit?”
Alice’s back became ramrod straight as she tipped the wheel a degree to port, following the course of the Lady Lucy ahead of them.
“Aye.” Maggie handed Jake a piece, then Lizzie and Claire. “Want some chocolate, Alice? It’s ever so fine.”
To Claire’s relief, Alice released the wheel long enough to take some. “If you nosy nellies are done discussing my letter, you might clear out and let Jake see his charts. I want this route plotted before we moor, in case I ever need to come back.”
Maggie cleared away the chocolate—after carving off several healthy chunks—and Claire saw that Jake had been plotting their route all along. Careful notes had been made in his laborious capital letters, following the land forms.
“Well done, Jake,” she said with honest admiration.
His cheeks reddened. “I done it for Alice,” he mumbled as he drew a careful line to the side of a curving river. “I remember wot the charts and the land look like, but she don’t.”
“His memory is prodigious,” Claire told Alice. “It is almost as though his brain takes a photograph, with all its detail. If he can see something, he remembers it.”
“Wish I had that talent,” Alice said. “Would’ve come in handy in the schoolroom back when.”
“Ent never been to school,” Jake said, “’cept lately, when the Lady made us—er,” he corrected himself with a hasty look at her, “—helped us learn our letters and numbers.”
“You can be glad she did, then,” Alice told him. “Navigation means reading a lot of letters and numbers, not just clouds and land forms. It means filling out forms at the port authority and sending messages on pigeons to other captains.” She paused. “If a man intends to be legal, anyway. Ned Mose never held much truck with letters and forms. Quickest way to get permission, in his mind, was to wave a pistol.”
“I ent plannin’ to be like Ned Mose.”
“Glad to hear it. Me neither. Stand watch, please. It can’t be long now.”
“Aye, Captain.” Jake finished a last notation and resumed his duty with the solemnity of a career military man commanding a bridge the size of the Margrethe’s.
“Lady, look.” Maggie pointed out the window off the bow. “Izzat smoke?”
Claire helped herself to a second piece of chocolate and joined her at the window. As she did, the Lady Lucy dipped in the air and suddenly they were looking down upon the top of her great golden fuselage.
“The Dunsmuirs have begun their descent,” Alice said.
“I see them.” Jake reached over and made a note on the chart while Alice flipped a series of switches. “Seven and Eight, stand by. Claire, I’ll need you at the engine to decrease power from your cell.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“But Lady, the smoke—”
“Maggie, I’m sure it is safe.” Claire cast an anxious look over her shoulder at the thick plume, which must be huge, considering how far away from it they were. “Come with me. Lady Dunsmuir would never put Willie in jeopardy,” she said as they walked back to the engine. “You must remember we are going to a mine, where there are engines working and digging in the earth.” She had only the vaguest knowledge of what went on at a mine, but surely she could safely say this much. “It is likely a plume of dust, or smoke from those engines.”
Maggie looked doubtful, but when Claire required her assistance at the switches, she seemed much more interested in ordering Seven about than in asking any more questions.
After all, nothing was managed better than a Dunsmuir holding, was that not what Captain Hollys had said?
The only thing they had to fear this far north was catching a chill.
Chapter 13
The Firstwater Mine had its own landing field, of course, for the cargo ships and the Lady Lucy, a short distance from what appeared to be a town and the vast open pit that was the mine itself. As the Lass was moored to its mast by the ground crew, Alice saw that a dun-colored ship with n
o name, merely a string of letters and numbers on its fuselage, was already moored some distance away.
“No, you may not go to the edge and look down,” her ladyship informed Willie as they disembarked. “It is far too dangerous. That is why it is surrounded by a palisade.”
“Chin up, son.” The earl tossed the boy in the chilly air and then set him on his shoulders, where he clutched his father’s ears and giggled. “We shall tour the mine tomorrow, and you may come along. One day you will be running this empire. We must waste no time in making you familiar with it.”
A party of men approached in a vehicle that rumbled and hissed and emitted great clouds of steam.
“Same traveling mechanism as my locomotive tower,” Alice said in a low tone to Claire. “The continuous track is more stable than wheels when the river keeps washing out the road.”
“Let us hope they do not have that problem here. My goodness, it is cold. If this is what it is like in October, I shudder to think of January.”
The men disembarked and introductions were made all around. The driver of the enormous vehicle turned out to be Reginald Penhaven, the managing director of the mine, and his eyes were anxious as he turned his fur cap in both hands.
“You’ll have seen the smoke, then, your lordship?”
“I have,” Lord Dunsmuir said gravely. “It’s visible for fifty miles. What happened?”
“One of the diggers was sabotaged. It took three engines with hoses to put out the fire, and the digger is beyond repair. That leaves us with four, sir.”
“Four? We have—had—six, did we not?”
“We did, sir. You’ll recall we had the same kind of trouble a month ago, sir.”
“And you have apprehended the culprits?”
Penhaven’s hands tightened so much on his cap that it bent between them. “Despite best efforts at investigating, sir, and a doubled watch on the vehicle yard, we have not, sir. Though we have our suspicions.”
His lordship bent a long, thoughtful gaze upon him. To the man’s credit, he didn’t quail or look aside, but swallowed and kept his chin up and his return gaze level.
Brilliant Devices: A steampunk adventure novel (Magnificent Devices) Page 11
