Magnificent Devices 07 - A Lady of Integrity (5 page)

“He doesn’t leave
Athena
. I don’t want another boy’s fate on my conscience—especially one barely out of short pants.”

“Of course not. His duties are aboard ship.” Briskly, she knocked on the closet-sized cabin that had thrilled the boy’s heart. Had he been a prince given a country of his own, he could not have been happier. “Mr. Stringfellow, are you within?”

The door opened at once to reveal the black-haired, red-cheeked urchin. “Yes, Lady. What is it, Lady?”

“Captain Chalmers and I must dress and receive dinner guests—since she cannot go out, they are coming to us. I would like you to stand watch in the communications cage. The instant that pigeon arrives from England, I want the contents brought to me, no matter where I am or what I am doing.”

“Yes, Lady.”

Before she could take another breath, he dashed off down the corridor to carry out his orders.

“Can’t fault his obedience, anyway,” Alice said as he disappeared from view. “Come on. Let’s get you dressed.”

“What about you?” Claire poked her in the ribs. “Whatever happened to that aquamarine dress Lady Dunsmuir had made for you in Edmonton?”

Alice huffed a laugh. “That thing? I haven’t seen hide nor hair of it since then. I think it got spoiled somehow during our escape. I must have thrown it out—or used it to patch a gas bag, maybe. There was enough fabric in it to make a touring balloon.”

“Such a shame. You looked well in it.”

“If you’re hinting that I ought to dress up for dinner, you’re bound for disappointment. I’ll put on one of your navy skirts and a shirt, and that will have to do.”

“Believe me, I wish I could do the same. But the von Zeppelins know perfectly well the contents of my wardrobe, after four years here, so I’ll be expected to put on evening clothes. It shows them respect, you know, since they will certainly dress to greet us.”

Alice looked a little anxious. “They won’t think I’m not showing respect, will they? Because all I have to stand up in outside of what I can borrow from you are the things Mr. Malvern got from his haberdasher.”

“Certainly not. A man who secretes you in a rifle case knows precisely the extent of your resources and will not hold them against you.”

Claire had not seen the count and the baroness since she had taken her leave of them following her graduation from the University of Bavaria the previous June. So their arrival here yesterday had been a happy one, with tonight’s invitation being contrived so that the count, ever alert for the engineering talent he enjoyed nurturing in others, might converse with Alice without danger of her being seen.

Claire had kept the menu simple out of consideration for the von Zeppelins’ cook, who had prepared the meal in the palace and was simply adding the finishing touches in
Athena’
s spartan galley. A cold shrimp cocktail, soup, and a game course with roasted vegetables were all easily transported across several hundred feet of lawn.

They had barely begun the haunch, which may as well have been porridge for all the attention Alice and the count were paying to it, so deep in conversation were they, when running footsteps could be heard in the corridor.

The pigeon. Thank God. Oh, let it be good news.

Claire intercepted Mr. Stringfellow at the door and he handed her a thick, creamy envelope bearing the royal seal in a dollop of red wax. Her stomach dipped and righted itself, as though
Athena
had hit a wind shear.

“Alice, Count, Baroness—it is the Queen, at last.”

To our right loyal subject Lady Claire Trevelyan, greetings.

We are in receipt of a message from our dear friend and counselor, Lady Dunsmuir, on the subject of one Jake Fletcher McTavish, navigator of the Charlottetown-registered vessel Stalwart Lass, recently under contract to Lord John Dunsmuir as a cargo ship. We understand that he and said vessel have been seized and imprisoned as collateral against payment of transit taxes.

At least, so we are informed by the Venetian ambassador, who is presently in London to invite us to next year’s art exhibition. He assures us that once the transit taxes are paid by the captain of the vessel, navigator, cargo, and ship will be released and sent upon their way. We view this as the reasonable cost of commerce and fail to see the necessity of our intervention. Indeed, the Dunsmuirs will send what is needed immediately.

Lady Claire, please accept our felicitations and those of our dearly beloved Husband upon the recent news of your engagement to Mr. Andrew Malvern. The Prince Consort wishes me to convey his particular delight at the news. He looks forward to securing a dance with the bride, with fond memories of a past occasion.

By our own hand and seal,

Victoria Regina

“Oh dear,” Claire said in tones of despair, her spirits falling into her shoes. “There go all our hopes of a simple wedding … to say nothing of our hopes of assistance for Jake. How can she possibly call kidnapping the ‘reasonable cost of commerce’? It’s absurd. She has been completely misinformed about the case.”

Now Alice was on her feet, the Queen’s letter in both hands as if a reading by a different pair of eyes would produce a different message. “I don’t understand,” she said blankly. “I already asked the Dunsmuirs for the money for the transit tax, and it wasn’t forthcoming.”

“At a guess, might it be because they refuse to be the victims of extortion?” Andrew mused aloud. Alice passed the letter to him, and when he’d read it, he gave it to the count and his wife, who perused it together.

“Then why ‘send what is needed’ now?” Claire said. “The Dunsmuirs are not so small that they would withhold money in a circumstance like this—not if it means Jake’s freedom—his very life. It does not seem like them at all.”

“Maybe they mean to cut me loose.” Alice had gone pale. “Maybe I did something wrong—made the wrong person angry—and they’re disavowing me and breaking the contract.”

“Not at all.” Claire gave her a squeeze that somehow made her feel a little better, herself. “They are sending what is needed. No matter what political maneuverings are going on in London at the moment, we must hold to that.”

Voices sounded below in the landing bay, and for the second time in ten minutes, footsteps pounded down the corridor. “Lady!” Mr. Stringfellow shouted, heedless of the impropriety of raising his voice in front of their august company. “Lady, it’s—”

“Don’t spoil it, Benny—we told you, it’s a surprise,” came a laughing voice from the deck below.

Lizzie gasped and pushed back her chair with such suddenness it fell over behind her. “That’s—”

Claire, standing nearest to the door, bolted out, Lizzie hot on her heels. And there, emerging at the top of the stairs between decks, was a familiar, beloved coffee-brown face and lively dark eyes.

“Tigg!” she exclaimed.

“Tigg!” Lizzie shrieked, and threw herself with most unladylike abandon into his arms. He hugged her so hard it was a wonder she could breathe—and then kissed her with a calm possessiveness that told Claire that there had been much more to his letters than the snippets Lizzie had been reading to them over breakfast.

He set Lizzie down and turned to Claire, who hugged him in her turn. Goodness, he was strong, his body filling out and coming into its own with vigorous, satisfying work. He was a man now, and she smiled into his eyes with all the pride that welled in her heart.

“All right, Lady?” he asked.

“More than all right now,” she said. “What have we done to merit this gift, so unexpectedly?”

Now a new voice, equally familiar and unexpected, sounded behind him. “Did you not receive Her Majesty’s letter?” Ian Hollys, captain of the Dunsmuirs’ flagship vessel,
Lady Lucy
, climbed the last of the stairs and emerged into the receiving salon beside his lieutenant.

Her mind spinning in joy and confusion, Claire gave him her hand. “But … I don’t understand. What are the two of you doing here when we understood you were at the Firstwater Mine, on the other side of the world?”

“Then you have not received her letter.”

“We have indeed, not ten minutes past. But it does not explain your presence—welcome as it is.” She collected herself and remembered her manners somewhat belatedly. “Do come into the dining salon. We were just at dinner with Count von Zeppelin and the Baroness. Will you join us?”

“I wouldn’t turn down good grub.” Tigg took Lizzie’s hand and led the way back along the corridor. “Nor the chance to shake the count’s hand again.”

Which left Claire alone with Ian Hollys, a situation in which she had not found herself since she had declined his proposal in June, practically on this very spot. “Will you come and have something to eat?” she said, a little diffidently. How did one treat the worthy and noble gentleman one had refused? The etiquette books her mother was so fond of did not cover such a situation, she was quite sure—and even if they did, Claire had not read them. “You can tell all of us the story at once. Each person here is exceedingly anxious to know if you have any more information than Her Majesty gave us.”

“Claire, a moment.” His gaze had not left her face, and if not for the ring upon her finger, she would have felt quite uncomfortable.

“Of course.”

He lifted her hand as if to kiss it, and saw the ring. After the briefest of hesitations, he patted the back of it and released it. “Please accept my heartfelt felicitations upon your engagement to Mr. Malvern. I heard of it only recently, when Tigg came to Hollys Park.”

“Hollys Park?” she said blankly. What had he been doing there? And when had he come home? Goodness, he must tell them what was going on at once. “Thank you, Ian. We are very happy, and planning to say our vows at Christmas.”

“I am glad.” They walked down the corridor, toward where she could see Alice and Andrew crowding the door, astonishment written on their faces. “Your happiness means a great deal to me, and the fact that I can respect and admire your choice makes me happy, as well.”

It was gallant of him to say so, but there was no time for more. Ian and Tigg were borne away to the table, where the von Zeppelin staff lost no time in setting two more places and offering food. Lizzie, glued to Tigg’s side, peeled shrimp and would have fed them to him one by one, too, if she had not caught Claire’s eye and straightened in her chair enough to pay attention to her own plate.

Claire handed Ian the letter from the Queen. “We have all read it. I do hope you can shed some light on it, for it makes no sense at all even to the fine minds gathered here.”

Ian scanned the lines, then handed it across to Tigg, who put down his fork and did the same. “She has succeeded in her intent, then,” Ian said. “She is emulating her predecessor, Queen Elizabeth the First, in that her writing says what it must, while she herself does what she can. She is, of course, quite powerless to act openly, with the Venetian ambassador camped upon the doorstep.”

“So we assumed,” Count von Zeppelin said, “but it does not explain the help she refers to. Will the Dunsmuirs pay the transit tax, or not?”

“Certainly not,” Ian said crisply. “It is extortion, pure and simple, and they will not be a party to it.”

“Then how will we get Jake out of prison?” Alice asked, her eyes filling with tears. “Surely you didn’t come all this way just to give us bad news.”

“Of course not,” Tigg said. “What do you take the captain for?”

“I hardly know.” Alice’s fear made her tone sharper than it might have been, given her present company. “It appears I have to take him or leave him, when a bag full of money would have done the job faster. No offense.”

“None taken,” Ian said. Then he smiled—a dangerous smile that Claire suspected put fear into the hearts of air pirates and extortioners alike. “The Dunsmuirs could not send money, and the Queen could not send an envoy that might hint in any way at interference in the Duchy’s affairs. But they could do the next best thing.”

“They sent us,” Tigg said with satisfaction. “Pulled us both off leave and popped us on the first transport out, quiet-like, so that we could come and help. And the topper to it all?”

“I can’t imagine,” Claire said.

Ian took up where Tigg left off. “We have
carte blanche
from Her Majesty to do whatever is necessary to retrieve ‘her most loyal subject, Jake Fletcher McTavish’ from the hands of these miscreants, up to and including deadly force.”

Claire’s breath went out of her in a long sigh of admiration at the Queen’s cleverness. Across the table, Alice covered her face with her napkin and burst into tears, as though a terrible burden had just been lifted.

*

“But of course you need not go.” Count von Zeppelin’s grip tightened upon his glass of port, and Claire saw Lizzie and Maggie exchange a glance of trepidation.

The dining salon and the family salon in which Claire and her guests now gathered after dinner had once been a cargo bay. A little elbow grease and the removal of several years’ worth of packing material, bullet casings, and insects; the laying of a new hardwood floor; and the addition of comfortable furniture, carpets, and books had gone a long way toward making
Athena
into what she was today: an airborne home. Viewing ports had even been added, but the drapes had been drawn and lamps lit, which now illuminated the count’s lowered brows and tense hands.

“If Captain Hollys, Lieutenant Terwilliger, and Mr. Malvern make up the rescue party, there is certainly no need for young ladies to go. Young ladies, I might add, who are expected to take up their duties here in Munich tomorrow morning.”

The Mopsies wisely remained silent, leaving Claire to have the conversation in public that she had most hoped to have in private.

“Count, perhaps I might walk with you, the Baroness, and the girls to the palace?” she suggested. On Lizzie’s other side, Tigg sat, his fingers entwined with hers. “And Tigg,” she added. He would not stay aboard
Athena
in any case, if it meant Lizzie crossing the park without his protection to the suite she shared in the palace with Claire and Maggie. Not after what had happened only a few short weeks ago, when Lizzie had nearly been blown up by a pocket watch.