Magnificent Devices 07 - A Lady of Integrity (27 page)

Voices proceeded from within
Swan
’s engine compartment, where Captain Hollys believed himself to be assisting Alice in repairs.

“Dadburn it, Ian, be careful with that wrench! These Daimlers are calibrated as fine as a Swiss clock, and I won’t have you banging around in there as though they were clunky old Crocketts!”

Claire did not hear Ian’s reply, but she had no doubt that Alice was enjoying bossing him around. Turnabout, after all, was fair play. She could not say that he was a changed man after his experience in the prison, but how could anyone be unchanged after such fear and hopelessness? They had only been here a day. Perhaps banging about in an engine compartment was more therapeutic for him than Alice, and that was why she had consented to it at all.

A whirring sound in the air made them look up, and Maggie said, “There’s the pigeon. But I can’t get up.”

“I’ll get it.” Claude unfolded himself from his chair and loped up
Athena
’s gangway, reappearing a few minutes later with a letter in his hand. Claire took it, broke the count’s seal, and read it aloud.

My dear Claire,

Words cannot express the relief of the baroness and myself to hear of your safe departure from the Duchy and subsequent return to civilized parts. It would almost balance my dismay at learning you had gone, if not for the realization that the journey was only to be expected of a woman of your character.

Have no fear—your position awaits you when you choose to take it up. While the baroness smiles at the thought of my swallowing my pride, I look upon it as good business. I do not let go of my investments so easily.

And now to the subject of your inquiry. The B2 airship you describe was built in 1889, as Captain Chalmers surmised from the serial number, and completed three transoceanic voyages before inexplicably disappearing on its return from Cape Town in 1890. I cannot believe that any members of its crew still survive—in fact, services for those lost at storm were held, and all the families compensated … as much as such a loss ever can be.

You may assure Captain Chalmers that I do not wish the ship returned to my fleet. If she and Maggie were brave and resourceful enough to liberate her, then they deserve to fly her with my blessing.

We look forward to your safe return.

With affection and regard,

Ferdinand von Zeppelin

Claire folded up the letter and handed it back to Claude. “Run this over to Alice. She will be glad of the news.”

“Does this mean I own half a ship?” Maggie asked from under the brim of her straw hat.

“You would need to take that up with Alice, darling,” Claire suggested, “but it rather sounds as though the count thinks so, and I cannot imagine Alice would disagree.”

“Then I give Jake my half,” Maggie said, her hand slow and gentle on Ivy’s feathers.

“What’s that?” Jake’s eyes opened, and he sat up. “What ship?”

“
Swan
, of course. What am I going to do with half a ship? You’re the one flying her—though she’s awfully big. You’re going to need Mr. Stringfellow’s help for certain.”

That individual had already nearly come to blows with Jake the evening before over the privilege of who ought to wear an aeronaut’s colors. Since Jake was the larger and more experienced—and had not a stitch to call his own—he had appropriated a lieutenant’s britches more out of expediency than expectations of rank. This had offended Mr. Stringfellow deeply, and he was not over it yet.

“Silly blighter,” Jake said affectionately. “Ship hasn’t even been commissioned into the Royal Aeronautic Corps and already he’s putting on airs.”

“And may never be,” Mr. Malvern said on Claire’s other side. “The
Stalwart Lass
was registered in Charlottetown. But Alice is a Texican citizen.
Swan
may fly the Lone Star and Snake yet.”

“Not on my watch,” Jake muttered under his breath. Then, more loudly, “Anyhow, Mags, you ought not to give away your half so easily. You and the captain might want to go into business together.”

“I doubt it,” Maggie said. “The Seacombe shipping empire will be enough for Lizzie and Claude and me. No, I’ve made up my mind, so I’ll thank you to take me seriously.”

“Better talk it over with Alice before you go giving ships away hither and yon,” Claire advised. Then she shaded her eyes. “There’s another pigeon. It can’t be Snouts, not so soon. Perhaps the Dunsmuirs have finally received Ian’s ransom demand.”

Once again Claude fetched a letter and handed it to her. Claire turned it over, unable to place the masculine hand. Finally she slit the seal.

Lady Claire,

While our acquaintance has been brief, I hope you will forgive my trespassing upon it and importuning you in this peremptory manner.

I will come straight to the point. My daughter is missing, and despite the assistance of the Duchy’s finest officers in the last twenty-four hours, all attempts to locate her have been unsuccessful. It is my understanding from the concierge at your hotel that you were the last person in whose company she was seen, the day before yesterday.

I am informed by that same individual that you have quitted Venice. I hope that this letter finds you and that you are willing to vouchsafe any information you possess on the matter. Though we have been estranged from one another of late, she is still my only child and heir.

I remain,

Your servant,

Gerald Meriwether-Astor

THE END

Author's note

Dear reader,

I hope you enjoy reading the adventures of Lady Claire and the gang in the Magnificent Devices world as much as I enjoy writing them. It is your support and enthusiasm that is like the steam in an airship’s boiler, keeping the entire enterprise afloat and ready for the next adventure.

You might leave a review on your favorite retailer’s site to tell others about the books. And you can find the print editions of the entire series online, as well as audiobooks. I’ll see you over at
www.shelleyadina.com
, where you can sign up for my newsletter and be the first to know of new releases and special promotions.

And now, read on for an excerpt from
Immortal Faith
, a novel of vampires and unholy love …

Excerpt

While you’re waiting for book eight in the Magnificent Devices series, I hope you will enjoy the following excerpt from
Immortal Faith, 
a paranormal YA novel.

Summary

 
In the small, Old Order Mennonite community of Mitternacht, Iowa, the people pray that God will deliver them from evil.

They should have been more specific.

Sophia Brucker is on the threshold of womanhood, standing in the door between her religion’s way of life and the possibilities of the world outside. She is also torn between two young men: David Fischer, whom she has known since childhood, and Gabriel Langford, the new arrival. In a community that only grows when people are born into it, a convert—young, single, and male—is the most exciting thing that has happened in years.

When Sophia’s uncle is found dead in the barn with his throat slashed and bitten, the community grieves—except Sophia, who has been abused by him for years. And when the local mean girl is killed the same way, Sophia hardly dares to voice what she suspects: that only the worst among them are being weeded out. Under the elders’ approving eyes, it seems Gabriel is dedicated to worshipping God. But his methods may not stand up to too close a scrutiny . . . and Sophia is getting very close indeed . . .

Immortal Faith: A novel of vampires and unholy love

by Shelley Adina

Copyright 2011. All rights reserved.

Chapter 1

The baby chick, hatched just yesterday and half the size of my palm, peeped as I stroked its downy yellow back with one finger. The two halves of its tiny beak crossed at the tips, which was why it had been peeping. It couldn’t pick up the feed and it was hungry.

Mamm would be out any moment, but I couldn’t help myself—I had to do something for it, even if all I had to offer was the warmth of my hands. I knew it had to be culled; if it managed to grow up and have chicks of its own, it would pass on the defect. On an Old Order Mennonite farm, even a tiny scrap of life such as this still had to do its best and pull its weight, and my mother had no tolerance for things that didn’t pull their weight.

Unless we were speaking of my youngest brother, Jonah.

Sometimes you didn’t know until a creature was half grown that it would need to be culled. When one of the young roosters decided it was going to challenge Dat for the rule of the farmyard, and attacked his leg in a fury of male aggression, Dat simply pulled it off his boot and ended that discussion with a quick twist. “I’ll not have that bird passing on his bad seed,” was all he’d said, and we had chicken and dumplings for dinner that night.

Jonah and Caleb laughed and called me softheaded as well as softhearted because I couldn’t bring myself to do some of the things that were necessary on a working farm. And while I knew God had a purpose for every animal and human here—even Jonah—and we all had to fill our places . . . I gazed down at the defenseless fluffball in my hand. We were taught to strive after perfection, but couldn’t there be a little room for mercy, too?

But questioning was a sure path to a bad spirit, which led to discontent and pride.
Father, forgive me for my resentful thoughts
.

“Sophia, are you out here?”

“
Ja, Mamm
.”

The sunlight streaming in the barn door darkened briefly, throwing my mother’s body into silhouette and shining through her
kapp
to show the smooth braided bun beneath it. “You’re not mooning over those chicks, are you? You know we can’t keep the ones that aren’t up to standard.”

“I know.”

“You’ll have to learn to do this some day.” Her tone softened as she joined me at the pen where the broody hens lived until the chicks were big enough to go out into the barn. “When you’re married and have a fine farm of your own, you’ll be overrun with rickety, good-for-nothing birds if you don’t cull the bad ones.”

No one I knew kept chickens as pets, but in the rare moments that I sat down on the back steps and one would jump into my lap, I would swear that, like my baby sister, they wanted to be cuddled. I wished I could keep this one as a pet.

“She’s not bad,” I said softly. The chick had settled in my palm, and I covered it with my other hand. “It isn’t her fault she’s not perfect.”

“And would you have a yard full of cross-beaks that can’t eat their food? That grow up spindly and thin and won’t fill the stomachs of your family?”

“No.” I sighed. We had this same conversation every spring, and every spring I hated it just as much. The part about getting married and having my own farm hadn’t come up before, though. I wondered what had brought that on.

“Sophia.” Mamm held out her hand. Gently, I put the chick into it and turned away. With no sound but a sudden rustle of the dark blue cotton of her sleeves, it was over. “Are there any more?”

“The one with the yellow spot on its head can’t walk. There, by the Wyandotte mama.” Another rustle of movement. “I’ll bury them, Mamm.”

“Don’t be long bringing in the eggs. I want to speak to you.”

After I’d done my sad duty, I comforted myself watching the rest of the chicks tumble over each other, nip food away from their companions, and collapse in happy abandon for a nap under their mamas’ wings, which kept them warm on this sullen day in the hind part of April. The chicks could not know what had happened to the others, and their innocence was a joy in itself. But how fair was it that they’d only escaped because they met a standard they didn’t even know existed?

The chicken barn was sectioned off from the field horses’ stalls and the neat area where the buggies and tack were stored. That part belonged to Dat and the boys. This part belonged in name to Mamm, and in reality to me. It was dry, cozy, and safe, and on rainy days the birds made themselves comfortable in the deep bedding of wood shavings or perched on the hay bales stacked along the wall. For me, it felt peaceful and industrious at the same time, as the hens got on with the business of laying, raising chicks, and eating. Once I’d collected the eggs, I walked slowly across the yard, drying now as spring advanced, to the kitchen door.

What did Mamm want to speak to me about? We talked all day long. As the second eldest girl in the family, and since graduating from eighth grade three summers ago, I was her biggest help. That had been my older sister Hannah’s place, but no longer. During her season of Rumspringa, of running around, last year, Hannah had said in her letters that she’d fallen in love with life in Council Bluffs and would wait a little longer to come back to Mitternacht. Why wouldn’t she? She could stay out all night if she wanted. Talk to a boy without a dozen relatives leaping to conclusions and then into wedding plans. Learn how to drive a car like the
Englisch
, and even go to high school.

That was all well and good—for her. But she shouldn’t wait too long to decide whether she was coming back. My father had taken to falling into silence whenever her name was mentioned, and that was not so good. The thought of having to treat my own sister as
Englisch
made my skin go cold and coiled a sick knot of apprehension in my stomach. What crazy girl would sacrifice her family and her church just to stay out late and drive a car?