Alice let out a long breath in defeat. “Very well. But I’m pulling up ropes in the morning.”
“You must do as you think best, of course. But may I say that we women will be far outnumbered by partners tomorrow evening at the ball. The loss of one of us will be a tragedy for a great many men.”
“Dancing with me would be a greater one,” Alice mumbled.
The journalists began to clamor for Davina’s attention. “I must go. Eight o’clock, ladies, with sherry at seven.”
Claire took the Mopsies’ hands so they would not get lost in the pushing and shoving as the journalists set up their equipment and vied for the best spots in the central courtyard. Alice accompanied them back to the Lady Lucy, where she said, “Jake’s waiting on me. He won’t be too happy about being shanghaied tonight, either.”
“If there’s a spread, he’ll be fine,” Maggie told her. “Can’t we come?”
“I’m afraid not, darling,” Claire said. “You are not yet out in society, and won’t be for some time, so I hope you will keep Willie and Tigg company here on the ship.”
“Wot’s ‘out in society’?”
“It means you go on display in your mama’s shop window when you’re sixteen, waiting for the highest bidder,” Alice told her without much grace.
“We ent got a mama,” Lizzie said. Then she turned a horrified gaze to Claire. “Lady, you ent goin’ t’put us in a window, then, like a pair of plucked geese wiv frilly paper round our feet?”
“Certainly not.” She must not laugh, for if her limited experience was anything to go by, the image held more truth than the little girl knew. “Alice is being a poultice, and you must not listen to her. Being out simply means that you may go to balls and parties, and receive calls from gentlemen. When the time comes, you and Maggie will go with me and—” She stopped.
Dear me. She had come within a breath of saying—
“You an’ ’oo?” Lizzie prompted her.
“My husband, whomever that gentleman may turn out to be, if I am indeed married five years from now.”
“Mr. Malvern,” Maggie said with an air of one who knows.
“Captain Hollys,” Lizzie shot back with equal certainty.
“The man in the moon, if it were any of your business!”
Honestly, she was going to pack them both back to London for further lessons from Snouts McTavish in keeping their mouths shut, and that was a fact.
Chapter 18
Alice took a deep breath and felt the determined grip of her corset as it restricted her air intake to ladylike levels. No wonder ladies in novels fainted every time they got scared. They couldn’t ruddy well breathe.
Beside her, Jake indicated she should precede him up to the gangway, and she looked at him, surprised. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“Wot?”
“Allow a female to go first.”
He flushed, and let out a croak that turned into a squeak. He coughed and tried again. “I watched ’is lordship and Mr. Malvern. Go on, then. D’you want to freeze standing out ’ere?”
“Thank you, Jake,” she said as politely as any lady, and picked up her turquoise skirts to manage the gangway. At the top an officer was posted, and he assisted her from the last step.
“Welcome again to the Landgrafin Margrethe, Captain Chalmers,” he said. “I am the assistant steward. Will you follow me?”
“Good evening,” she replied. “This is Jake, my navigator.”
Awkwardly, Jake bowed, clearly uncomfortable in the one good suit that Claire had prevailed upon him to get in Edmonton. It was clear he had never worn a jacket and shirt so fine in his life, and it was that which made him uncomfortable more than how the fabric felt.
“Never mind, Jake,” she whispered as she rustled down the passage after the assistant steward. “It’s only a couple of hours and some good grub, and then we can go.”
Their guide motioned them through a set of carved double doors and they entered the flagship’s huge salon. Alice’s breath caught and Jake whistled, a low sound like a half-empty teakettle taken off the burner.
The room could hold a hundred people, though at present there were only half that number. What appeared to be gambit tables for the planning of battles had been seconded to duty as buffet tables, which were laden with food and phalanxes of crystal glasses and goblets. At the far end, uniformed men formed a small orchestra, at present engaged in a graceful waltz.
“Oh, blast, can they really be planning to dance after dinner? I thought all that palaver wasn’t until tomorrow.”
“They’ve room to,” Jake observed tersely. “You could ’ide behind them velvet curtains, or pretend to be one of them trees in pots.”
“Best shut up, or you’ll be the first one I ask to be my partner.”
Jake clamped his lips together as if he never meant to speak again. Still, he stuck by her side like a burr as she wended her way across the room to where Claire and Captain Hollys stood, looking picturesque and annoyingly comfortable in all this posh crowd, next to the punchbowl.
“Captain Chalmers. Jake.” Hollys knew better than to kiss the back of her gloved hand, so he shook it instead. “You’re looking uncommonly well this evening, Alice, considering your brush with near death this afternoon.”
“I’d rather face a herd of caribou than this lot,” she told him.
“Buck up, old thing,” Andrew Malvern joined them just in time to hear her, and she immediately wished she could drop through a hatch in the floor. “Did you stash a pistol in that rig to ward off potential partners?”
“That dress is the latest design from Paris,” Claire informed him down her nose. “It is not a weapons holster.”
“If it were, it would be the prettiest one ever made,” said Captain Hollys gallantly, coming to Alice’s rescue. “You wore this to the governor’s ball, did you not?”
“She did,” Andrew said before she could open her mouth.
He remembered. And Alice had not forgotten her feelings then, either, when it seemed he finally saw her as a woman, not a companion at arms. What was up, then, with his cavalier treatment of her now? Didn’t she deserve to be treated like a lady, the way he treated Claire, instead of one of his chums from the honkytonk?
She turned her back on him and laid a hand on Captain Hollys’s arm. “I wonder if we might walk over to the windows, sir? I thought I might lift in the morning and would like your opinion of the sky.”
Since it was pitch black, all they’d be able to see would be their own reflections, but Captain Hollys was too much of a gentleman to say so. He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her away, leaving Andrew standing there gaping like a barn owl.
Alice’s spine straightened with satisfaction, which had the added effect of making her corset sit more comfortably. Her skirts whispered across the Turkish carpet and Captain Hollys cut a tall, debonair figure next to her in his dress uniform.
Very satisfying indeed.
“Are you really planning to lift tomorrow?” he asked. “We’ve had reports of weather on the way, but not for a few days yet.”
“Who do you get weather reports from? Are there other mines further north than this?”
“No. I mean, there are other mines, but they are scattered to the south and east. We obtain our reports from the Esquimaux.”
“But I thought—the miners—”
“You’ve seen the tension between them.”
“I understand some think the Esquimaux are responsible for the sabotage,” she said as delicately as she could, considering Isobel Churchill, resplendent in green-and-gold brocade and a train you could make a set of drapes out of, was talking in low tones with one of the journalists not ten feet away.
“That is a mystery her ladyship is determined to solve,” he said softly. “The Dunsmuirs have excellent relationships with the Esquimaux in these territories. Did you know the latter have thirty-five different words for snow?”
“I did not. But what tha
t tells me is that they know it intimately.”
“Quite so. They know weather just as intimately, and many of the young men have shown an aptitude for mechanics, to the point that they operate a fleet of pigeons themselves. Pigeons, and many other marvelous devices.”
“So they do more than hunt and fish?”
“As do we all, my dear. The trappings change, but one must still eat and drink and protect oneself from the weather. The Esquimaux have honed all three skills to a fine art—among many others. Her ladyship encourages as many of the crew as are able to spend a winter with them here. It is a hard winter, mind you, but the ones who survive it have the ability to read skies that cannot be replicated anywhere else. One of my engine masters can practically feel a storm two days before it hits.”
Alice was silent a moment, taking this in.
“So the bad blood between the miners and the Esquimaux … is it a fabrication, then?”
“I cannot say for certain. Only that her ladyship is distressed by it and is determined to get to the bottom of it. Such fabrications, as you say, would tear the substance of what we have built here—and I do not mean mines and such.” He looked across the room, where Lord Dunsmuir was offering his wife his arm. “Dinner is served, I see. Will you join me at my table?”
For a moment, Alice thought he was joking. “Are all the captains put together?”
“No indeed. But my opportunities to dine with a young lady are few and far between, and if you lift tomorrow, I shall not get another chance.”
Alice hardly knew which way to look. And here she’d thought the captain was sweet on Claire! Well, maybe he was, but he was also a gentleman who would not leave a lady in the lurch. Claire had told her in Edmonton that people paired off to eat according to some confusing set of rules of precedence. He was a captain. She was a captain. He was handsome and interesting and she’d be gosh-darned if she let Andrew Malvern see how much his treatment bothered her.
“I would be delighted and honored, sir,” she said. “May we include Jake?” She took two steps over behind a potted palm and snagged the boy’s arm. “Otherwise the poor git will hide back here all night and not get a single bite.”
“Nothing would please me more.” Captain Hollys smiled, and for a wonder, Jake grinned back.
“Someone’s got to look after our Alice,” he said. “Some days it takes two.”
“Says you, you rascal,” she told him with no small amount of affection, taking the captain’s arm and offering the other in a more ladylike fashion to Jake. “Just for that, you can dance the first waltz with me. Then we’ll see who’s looking after who.”
Which shut him up properly until they were well into the second course. By the time dessert was set out—a flaky pastry filled with apples that made Jake’s eyes roll back in his head with ecstasy—Alice was feeling much more at ease.
So much so that she didn’t even mind when Captain Hollys responded to a glance from Lord Dunsmuir and left her to her coffee with a murmured apology.
“This ent so bad,” Jake said, relaxing on a settee next to her as the stewards cleared the tables, pushing the chairs back against the wall for the dancing. “Even Count von Zeppelin’s speech. Hard to b’lieve a toff like ’im could be so funny.”
“I’m finding folks aren’t often what we think,” she agreed. “I wonder what—”
“Is this seat taken?” Gloria Meriwether-Astor sank onto the settee next to Alice as though the weight of the world lay on her lace-covered shoulders. “You’re the Texican, aren’t you?” she said, and when Alice nodded, she sighed so deeply her stays creaked. “What a relief. Talk to me. I long for the accents of home.”
Alice couldn’t think what to say. This girl had insulted her friend to her face, and now she was sidling up to her? “Have you been gone a long time?”
“A year and a half. It feels like forever. I swear, when we put down in New York I nearly fell to the ground and kissed it. I was highly tempted to simply run away. It’s only a day on the train home to Philadelphia.”
“Why didn’t you?” Jake wanted to know.
Gloria’s gaze inspected him for flaws, or so it seemed to Alice. “You’re not Texican.”
“That’s right observant of you.”
“Jake,” Alice said in warning.
“It’s all right.” Gloria waved a hand. “Who might you be?”
“I’m navigator aboard the Stalwart Lass.” Jake nodded at Alice. “This ’ere’s ’er captain, Alice Chalmers.”
“That’s right, I remember now. You were with Claire when we landed.” While Alice marveled at the sudden resurrection of her memory, Gloria gazed out across the room to where her father was engaged in a lively conversation with the Margrethe’s first officer. “And my father made a fool of himself and me.”
“Does he do that a lot?” Maybe that had been rude. But Gloria didn’t look offended.
“I’m afraid so. Goodness knows what he’s saying now—probably some burble about how much money he has.”
“That’s the first officer ’e’s talkin’ to,” Jake said. “Might be he’s talking sense, like ships and guns and such.”
Gloria touched her forehead delicately with the back of her hand in its fine kidskin glove. “Save me from more talk of guns,” she sighed. “It’s pressure rifle this and steam cannon that until I swear I’m fit to scream.”
“Ah, the Meriwether-Astor Munitions Works?” Alice inquired, as if she hadn’t made up the term out of thin air not an hour past.
“The very same. Papa’s pet project, and one I’d cheerfully blow up myself if I thought it would do any good.”
“Wot’s a steam cannon?” Jake asked in a tone that almost sounded social.
“Heavens, don’t you start. Because of the wretched thing, we could not bring the second landau—the one that I should have had use of. If I hear its name again I swear I shall scream. On the other hand, maybe that handsome captain would come back to rescue me. Do you think I should try it?” And she straightened so gracefully that it took Alice a second to realize she was craning her neck to find Captain Hollys in the crowd.
“Don’t think so,” she said through her best smile. “Captain Hollys, if that’s who you mean, isn’t much for fragile flowers. He seems to prefer the strong and sensible type.”
“That will never be me.” Gloria subsided, her brief spurt of energy gone.
“Why not?” Alice asked her. “This room is full of strong and sensible types. Why shouldn’t you be one of them?”
“Because strong and sensible types don’t land titles, you ninny,” Gloria snapped, her company manners peeling back abruptly to reveal what might be the real person underneath.
“More to this world than titles,” Jake observed.
“Not when you have the father I do.”
Jake shrugged. “So leave. Go do summat sensible yer own self.”
She glared at him. “Mind your manners, you young scamp, or I’ll have you put off this ship.”
He grinned at her. “I’d like to see you try. You ent no fine lady. I know a few, and you ent one. Yer just content to sit and whinge about yer lot. There’s a pair of eleven-year-olds ’ere got more spine than you.”
“How dare you!” Two spots of color appeared in Gloria’s porcelain cheeks, and she looked almost ready to get up. “Do you know who I am?”
“I ’spect you need the answer to that worse than me,” was the laconic reply.
“Well, I never.” Gloria stood and turned on her heel so swiftly that Alice felt the breeze from her train. She stalked across the empty space in front of the orchestra, heading for the bluster in the corner where her father seemed to be holding court.
“Nicely done, Jake.” Alice toasted him with her china coffee cup. “We’re about to get tossed off this boat thanks to you.”
But he only shrugged. “I got no time for whingers, whether they’ve got a fat purse or not. If I c’n make summat of meself, then so can she. You don’t ’ear the Lady or
derin’ people about and moanin’ about ’er lot, nor you neither.”
Rough-and-tumble though they might be, those few words from her young navigator made Alice feel better than any number of compliments could have.
“Jake, about tomorrow. I don’t think it’s fair to ask you to leave all your friends to go gosh knows where with me.”
She would have to figure out the location of gosh knows where pronto. Now that she’d found Pa, she didn’t really have a destination in mind once she got herself away from him and his infernal pigeons. It was one thing to ask a young man to help a girl in her quest. It was another thing altogether to drag him around the skies while she figured out what to do with the rest of her life.
Jake dragged his gaze from Gloria, who was now propped against a table while she tried to get her father’s attention. “But I’m yer navigator.”
“I know, and a fine one, too. But—but I’m not sure you’ve thought this through. If you go with me, what are the odds you’ll see them all again?”
“When I play cowboy poker, I stack the odds in me own favor by rememberin’ the cards.”
“That’s all very nice for clever-boots with memories like cameras. But I’m talking about wind currents and continents and many miles between friends.”
“Them wind currents blow east as well as west. And wiv a stout ship that don’t leak, one continent is much the same as another. I say we gets to choose our course, Alice Chalmers, not be blown about like thistledown.”
“You sound like Claire.”
He snorted.
“So you wouldn’t object to the occasional voyage to, say, England—” An idea swooped into her head like a cliff swallow to its nest. “—if we could pick up a proper cargo?”
“I wouldn’t. There’s a field hard by t’cottage. Lewis and Snouts c’n do some pickin’ at t’scrap yards and rig up a mooring mast there in jig time.”
She needed to speak with Lady Dunsmuir. Surely an empire as big as theirs needed folks with the skills to ferry things around?
She looked over to where the Dunsmuirs were laughing with the count and clinking glasses with him, when the music started up. What was it with these Prussians that everything they played was a waltz? And worse, there was Andrew Malvern heading her way like one of those mining engines under full steam.
Brilliant Devices: A steampunk adventure novel (Magnificent Devices) Page 16
