The Stowaway Debutante

by Rebecca Diem

  “Alright, alright. Miss Clara, it’s your turn now!”

  Her refusal was already upon her lips when she caught the Captain watching her from across the room.

  “Well? What will it be?” Trick pressed.

  With the entire room’s attention on her, Clara lifted her chin and answered, “I don’t know many of these tunes. I can sing ‘In the Gloaming’ if it pleases you.”

  Trick raised an eyebrow, and smiled widely as he agreed. They cleared space for her in the centre of the room. Trick took the opportunity to rest on the stool as he played. The crew settled down and with the lanterns casting a soft light about the hall, Clara began to sing the familiar tune.

  In the gloaming, oh, my darling!

  When the lights are dim and low,

  And the quiet shadows falling

  Softly come and softly go.

  She walked slowly as she sang, circling Trick with his accordion, addressing the entire room. Her singing had been her saving grace for Miss Ellington to continue with her etiquette training. Despite all her faults she did have a lovely voice.

  In the gloaming, oh, my darling!

  Think not bitterly of me!

  Tho' I pass'd away in silence,

  Left you lonely, set you free.

  For my heart was crush'd with longing,

  What had been could never be;

  It was best to leave you thus, dear,

  Best for you and best for me.

  Clara almost faltered as she finished the song. She made the mistake of looking to the Captain, and the intensity of his gaze had her feeling suddenly quite self-conscious for singing a tale of love. She was determined not to show the effect he had, and sang the final lines to her accompaniment.

  Will you think of me, and love me?

  As you did once long ago.

  A pause of silence followed the final note of the instrument, followed by a rousing bout of applause. Trick swept her up in an embrace, before handing her a mug procured by Nessa. He shouted above the crowd,

  “To Clara!”

  “To Clara!” they answered, and the celebration resumed.

  Clara was surrounded by well-wishers and her mug was soon empty from all the toasts and cheers. She murmured her thanks as she crossed the room to refill her cup. She had just extricated herself from Peg, Beatrice and another of the kitchen staff when she turned and almost knocked the Captain over. He steadied her with a smile and collected her mug to fill it himself. Clara accepted the drink with thanks.

  “You sang well,” he said.

  Clara dabbed the extra foam from her mouth with the edge of her sleeve, feeling the blush growing on her cheeks.

  They stood there a few moments longer, in silence. Clara sipped at her beer, and tried to think of something to say. The Captain took in the rest of the room, not meeting her eyes. She took the opportunity to observe him, his pale eyes reflecting the light from the lanterns as it played across his high cheekbones. She had heard tales of his exploits and rumours of dalliances with highborn ladies. She could see how his air of mirth and danger would fuel many ladies’ fantasies. She was caught off guard when he turned to her.

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  “I… well, you found me, and-”

  “It seems almost too great of a coincidence.”

  Clara’s mood darkened, “And what, exactly, is your meaning?”

  The Captain was unmoved by her glare.

  “Answer this riddle for me. A young woman of obvious high birth shows up in a cargo hold riddled with illegal ammunitions, in a tattered ball gown and a gentleman’s coat. A woman who saves my crew but smuggles dueling pistols aboard my ship. Then, despite her absolute lack of qualification or experience, she purchases a pilot’s commission rather than booking passage, and takes strikingly well to every task she is assigned.” He set his beer down on a nearby table and crossed his arms. “You have befriended the crew, handle the ropes like a born pilot, and yet sing like an accomplished lady of the upper realms. Among your many assets, I hardly see the need to add a pirate’s employment to your resume. You might be a Tradist spy, but if so, you make a rather poor one. I believe myself to be a good judge of character and while our encounter was, in all likelihood, a fortunate accident, I am still left with the mystery of why you have chosen the life of a pilot over that to which you were obviously born.”

  Clara’s face burned.

  “And what of yourself, sir?” she shot back.

  “Myself?”

  “Your reputation precedes you. The ‘Captain Duke’ who flies through the clouds, stealing ladies’ hearts and Tradist cargo. A pirate, a liberator, whatever you call yourself, playing at Robin Hood with your band of Merry Men. And yet, also a titled Lord if rumours are to be believed. You are as much an enigma as I. Might I not keep a few secrets as well?”

  He shifted his stance, crossing his arms with his hip cocked to the right, “As Captain, I take it as my duty to know whether you may endanger my crew.”

  “Then I will confirm what you suspect. I am no spy. I have left my birthright behind. I have a genuine desire to be part of your crew and I will work hard for my place in it.”

  “This is not some grand adventure to take back to your sitting room once you’ve had enough.”

  Clara glared at him. She was tired of his mercurial dealings. She drank deeply, finishing the mug of beer before passing it back to him.

  “This is my choice. I no longer recognize that life. I have seen what becomes of those who force themselves to adhere to that path. Please respect my wish to determine the course my own shall take.” She strode across the room as steadily as she was able and left for the upper deck.

  Clara needed to feel the air upon her face. She had tasted the freedom of the skies, and no one – Captain or not – would take it from her again.

  Chapter 6: In which our heroine finds a friend

  The land below was cast in the deep shades of the night. A river gleamed with moonlight where its currents met. Clara could just make out the barest features of small houses far below as the ship followed its course through the stars. The air soothed her, brushing cool fingers across her face and neck as she stood at the railing. She let it blow her coat behind her, knowing she ought to keep warm, but enjoying the new sensations far too much to be sensible quite yet. The alcohol had gone to her head, she reasoned, trying to rationalize her reaction to the Captain. How had such a nice evening turned into a battle? She belonged here. She felt it in her soul. In less than a day she felt more at home on these decks than in any parlour. She would fight for her place, and the Captain would have to accept that. Clara puffed out a breath of exasperation. She should have handled the exchange better. He hadn’t really accused her of anything, just pried into areas she’d rather left alone. She likely owed him an apology, and it made her pride sore to think of it. At a small noise behind her, she turned to find Nessa had joined her on the decks.

  “Well hello, Miss Clara, I hope the fine evening air is treating you well,” she teased, joining her at the rail and passing another bottle of the seemingly endless supply of intoxicants aboard the ship.

  “Where on earth does it all come from?”

  “Oh we don’t always imbibe this much, but that last raid had a rather plentiful supply. That sneaky lout had definite plans for his ill-gotten gains.”

  They laughed and toasted each other, then sat with their backs to the rail and their legs stretched out in front of them.

  “Tell me what’s troubling you.”

  “I may have been a bit cross with the Captain. He has no trust in me.”

  “He only has the safety of his crew in mind. You’re a new pilot. Untrained, unproven. I hardly trust you myself,” she joked. Clara shot her a dark look.

  “I told him he was playing at Robin Hood.”

  Nessa roared at that one. “Truth be told, I’m not sure it’s the first he’s been told that and I’m certain it won’t be the last. It’s good to see some of that
hellcat coming out. Give it time. I still don’t know how well you’ll do in a raid, but I do trust that you’ll work hard for your place here. The Captain will sort himself out.”

  “If he decides to let me stay.”

  “He’ll come around. And he’ll answer to me if he wants you gone. Our crew is short without Robbie and the others. I need hard workers,” Nessa said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Besides, I like your spirit.”

  “You are like the sister I never had. At least, if I had one, I’d want her to be like you,” Clara said, returning the hug.

  “That’s sweet of you to say. I wonder what my own sister might think sometimes.”

  “You have a sister?”

  “And six brothers. I come from a good family but it was hard to find steady work for them all. I was born in the middle but took the lion’s share of the work after our mother died. I worked at the clothier’s until my sister was married off to a kind clergyman, then left her a note to say I was going to the Dominion of Canada and ran away with my fellow. I peeked in one day, years later. She had a baby in her lap and two young ones running around. She looked happy.”

  “You should write to her.”

  “And say what? I’d rather not pile more lies on the lies I have already told her. Perhaps she will forgive me for the first one someday.”

  “I think she would. My brother would never let a thing come between us.”

  “So your family will be missing you then?”

  “No. Well, yes. It’s complicated, but they know it was the right thing to do.”

  “They know where you’ve gone?”

  “Not precisely. My brother helped me when I learned I would need to leave sooner than expected, but they knew it was always my intention to live my own life.”

  “Not a runaway then? What of your parents?”

  “My father passed. Last spring. I’d rather not talk of my family, if you please.”

  Clara felt the unfamiliar stirrings of homesickness. She had left with her mother’s reluctant blessing, but the sudden parting was none the easier for it.

  “Did you dream of being a pilot?”

  Nessa kindly changed the subject as they shared the bottle between them.

  “I had every intention of finding some sort of engagement, likely as a governess of some sort, but to be perfectly honest, I was at a loss. My plan extended as far as getting off the island. I had no time for further considerations. I was quite glad when this opportunity presented itself.”

  “Well you’re lucky we did present ourselves. London would have ate up a pretty girl like you without a second thought.”

  “I heard that London was a bastion of progress since the reforms.”

  “In some circles, to be sure. Not for those who are running away from the privileges they were born to. Queen Victoria has made remarkable progress in her campaign, but the elements that challenge her are ever present.”

  “What do you mean? I read that her reforms have had a positive reception throughout.”

  “That’s the problem with learning only from books and reports. Words can reveal both truth and lies. You need to experience something to truly know it. When the ministers challenged her rule, she had to act to maintain her throne. Prince Albert’s passing affected her greatly. The impact of her reforms was not understood at the time, and the rights they permitted may well be taken away again by the lawmakers. Her Majesty has even refused to endorse the enfranchisement of her sex. The fight for equalization and our right to vote continues, but the real work being done is by the women taking advantage to open their own laboratories, their shops and their schools. It cannot be done all at once, but little gains here and there go a long way. Down there we still need skirts to appear respectable. In the skies, thanks to men like the Captain, we are respected for our own merit.”

  “Yes, the great Captain Duke. Lord of the Skies,” she grumbled.

  “Perhaps it is time we give this bottle a rest for a while,” Nessa said, laughing as she set it aside.

  “What is his story anyway? Is he truly a Duke? What is he the Duke of?”

  “That’s his tale to tell. He is rather private about his own history.” Nessa paused, leaning back against the rail before continuing, “There’s some kind of a connection, Clara, between the two of you. Be mindful of it. He’s not a man to be trifled with, but once you are in his confidence he will fight at your side through thick and thin.”

  Clara sighed and tilted her head back against the rail to stare at the stars. They seemed to circle against the black. She spoke of their dancing and Nessa laughed and helped her back to the cabin, forcing a few deep drinks of water along the way. Clara slept soundly in her bunk that night, and dreamt of flying.

  Chapter 7: In which our hero regrets his egregious assumptions

  He woke feeling like the greatest fool alive. The Captain Duke groaned as he rolled out of bed to retrieve the tincture of willow bark from the cabinet. He sat at his desk, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he waited for it to take effect. He expected his crew to bear their responsibilities and so would he, headache or no. He was in a foul mood, and the lingering effects of last night’s festivities were only partly to blame. He was certain that he had ruined the evening; an apology was definitely in order. He had lashed out at Clara with his accusations when there was little, if any, merit to them. He wished he could take back his words. She had an inconvenient effect on him. It wasn’t entirely unwelcome, but he could not afford to let his interest complicate their collegial relationship. He tried to convince himself that she was just another pilot, but he was all too aware that the facts were otherwise. He pushed the mystery to the back of his mind. Even if Clara was out for her own tale of the Captain Duke, the reality of the difference in their stations could not be denied for long. He wondered if his own mythology was coming now to haunt him.

  A knock on the door preceded the entrance of Trick, bearing a much-welcome plate of breakfast and strong coffee to wash it down. The Captain waved him over and started on the meal as Trick gave his report.

  “The crew are feeling the effects, sir, but most are bearing it happily. It was good to give them reason to celebrate.”

  “Good to see it wasn’t wasted on all,” he grumbled as he drank deeply.

  “Wasted? Not at all, everyone had a pleasant time,” Trick responded cheerfully. Too cheerfully.

  “And what is the reason for your good mood?”

  “What is behind your unpleasant one?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “It is if you think I’m about to let you spoil all your good favour with the crew by storming around with a cloud over your head. Out with it.”

  The Captain glared, but he could not deny Trick’s counsel.

  “It’s the girl.”

  “Clara?”

  “Yes, what other girl? Of course I mean Clara.”

  His voice caught on her name and he scowled at his meal.

  “She is quite an exceptional young lady. I see why she might have an effect on you but I cannot fathom why it would be a poor one.”

  “I… might have been rude last night.”

  Trick looked at him with shock and spoke in a rare fit of anger, “Captain, I have never known you to make inappropriate advances, and you’d better not have started now. Clara is a proper young lady, and you will make any reparations necessary to keep her on this ship if she so chooses.”

  “Calm yourself, I did no such thing.”

  “Well then? What happened?”

  “I might have inferred that she could be a spy.”

  “Inferred?”

  “Accused, more like.”

  Trick sighed and rubbed his forehead.

  “Ah, Captain. What am I to do with you?”

  He chose not to answer, taking a large bite of breakfast instead.

  “Well, what are you planning to do about it?”

  The Captain swallowed and took a dainty sip of the coffee, “I plan to run m
y ship as I always do.”

  “And Clara…?”

  “Is a pilot. I see no reason to press the matter further.”

  Trick sighed and paced the room. The Captain ignored him, studiously examining the cooling food as he ate. Trick gave another loud sigh and walked to the door. The Captain shoveled another bite into his mouth.

  “Fine. Be stubborn. But she’s a special one. You know it, I know it. She’s got some touch of destiny about her. You can’t ignore it forever.” Trick exited the cabin in a huff.

  The Captain sat back and pushed the plate away. He was no longer hungry. Instead, he stared through the windows and thought over his options. It was dangerous to get close to the girl, but that did not prevent him from wanting to help her on her journey. The ship was big enough to avoid her; he could pass on requests through Trick and Nessa easily enough. Besides, after a few days of work on the ship she might decide to leave after all. A pilot’s life was nothing like the grand tales told in parlour rooms. He figured she might make it through a single raid before quitting. Yes, that was it, one taste of their real work and Clara would be off at the nearest port. No good could come of a closer association, and a debutante was not cut out for the pilot’s life. He washed himself and finished dressing. By the time he was ready to join his crew, the Captain Duke had convinced himself that she would likely be ready to leave that very day. Instead, he was greeted by shouts and hollers from the men and women gathered on the deck, all staring upwards. Craning his neck to see what they were looking at, he saw Clara high above, balanced on the glider deck.