Magnificent Devices 07 - A Lady of Integrity (15 page)

“Quite so,” Meriwether-Astor said, tight-lipped.

Perhaps he was afraid of water. But that could not be. He had crossed the Atlantic in an undersea dirigible called
Neptune’s Fury
, had he not? And planned to continue his business now in some other vessel, in order to deliver more convicts to this dreadful penance.

“Those with life sentences have the opportunity to rise in the ranks,” the master continued. “Grease men are esteemed more highly than scrubbers. Each crew possesses a master. Highest of all are the
campanari
. But sadly, the life expectancy is such that rising to that rank is difficult. We are often forced to hire men.”

Claire swallowed. “What most affects their life expectancy?”

“Pneumonia,
signorina
,” he said sadly. “That and the kraken. For of course the condemned regularly attempt to save themselves by escaping the harness and swimming for the surface.”

“Oh,” she whispered.

How were they to free Jake? Could they somehow commandeer a diving bell, comb the arms of the gearworks until they located the one in which he labored, transfer him, and escape, all without detection? It did not seem possible.

And yet, not to make the attempt was unthinkable.

“Do all the convicts labor for life?” she asked. “Are there circumstances under which they might be freed?”

“Certainly.” The Master of Prisons signaled to the
campanaro
, and the bell began to move away from the gearworks. “If they survive until their trials, in some cases they can be declared innocent. In other cases, if it is a civil matter, a fine may be paid. But these are rare, you understand. Our Minister of Justice has tuned the system like a fine instrument. If one is so unlucky as to be imprisoned, it is usually because such a punishment is well deserved.”

There was, of course, no rebuttal to this official line of nonsense, which no one in her right mind would believe. “And in the case of—”

“Maestro!”
came a voice from above.
“Attentione!”

A brief exchange in the Venetian tongue ensued, and the Master of Prisons pointed to the far end of the arm, just before the joint that rose under a neighborhood. “Observe,” he said. “Escapes are most often attempted at this point on each arm, where the water is comparatively shallow and one might hope to reach the surface. Sadly,” he said, shaking his head, “one so rarely does.”

Far above, silhouetted against the light filtering down from the midday sun, a figure thrashed frantically for the surface.

Diving bells detached from the arm and rose in pursuit, filled by men waving their arms and swinging. Were they cheering the man in his attempt to win his freedom? Or were they warning of some—

On the
campanaro
’s shout, the master found what he was looking for, and pointed. “There.”

Out of the depths rose a creature that even Claire’s nightmares had never conjured. Seeing one in a biological publication—even seeing the small one briefly in the canal the night before—had not prepared her for the reality. Swimming with a terrible speed and a motion like a bellows, its tentacles trailing for more than thrice the length of a diving bell, came a kraken.

The man thrashed and swam with energy born of fear, but to no avail. The kraken reached—engulfed—hugged. The man’s body disappeared in a welter of tentacles and suckers, and the kraken swam back down into the depths, stealthily clutching its prize. But from out of the gloom came two or three more, and a fight over the prey ensued. By this time, any hope the man might have had to escape while they were thus occupied was extinguished. No one could survive so long without air.

“They will attempt it,” the master said sadly, “though they are all aware of the consequences.”

I am going to be sick. Violently sick.

But she must not. Instead, she reached for Andrew’s hand on the one side and Maggie’s on the other. They gripped hers so hard that she could feel the bones grind.

How are we to save him? And in the attempt, how are we to save ourselves?

*

Venice lay basking in the sun, the breeze toying with the lacy drapes inside open windows. Somewhere down one of the waterways, a gondolier sang a plaintive melody.

“This is what comes of allowing women and children to interfere with one’s duty.” Captain Hollys stalked along the pavement as though he would beat Lizzie’s location out of the recalcitrant stones. “I should never have permitted it.”

“I don’t recall that you had a choice in the matter,” Alice told him mildly, her gaze combing walls and alleys for any sign that either Lizzie or Tigg had passed this way.

“It has been nothing but chaos and confusion and the unnecessary involvement of others since the moment we landed.”

“I believe that was the plan. We’re to look like tourists, aren’t we? The best way to do that is to join a party of people who really are tourists—and while I have never been one before this week, I understand that some confusion is inevitable.”

This logic had no effect on him. “And now we have lost Lizzie. What possesses her to draw attention to herself in this irresponsible manner?”

“Her irrepressible spirits and warm heart?” It had worked, hadn’t it? “Thanks to her calling through that grate, we have information now that we didn’t before.” When he did not deign to reply, she said, “Captain, we’re not going to find them. I think we had better return to the hotel. Lizzie will find her way back to report to Claire, never fear.”

“It is not a matter of fear,” he said stiffly. “It is a matter of discipline.”

“I’ll be happy to watch you explain that to Lizzie, then, since
discipline
isn’t a word we usually associate with her or Maggie.”

He eyed her, his shoulders stiff and his bearing upright. “Surely you do not condone her behavior?”

“She’s a young woman who has come through worse than a brush with the local militia. It’s not my job to worry about her behavior, anyway. It’s Claire’s.”

“If it had been mine—” But he cut himself off.

Alice saw where the course of his thoughts had been set before he altered it. If Claire had accepted his offer of marriage, the remainder of the Mopsies’ upbringing might have been laid at his door. She did her best not to smile at the thought, to no avail.

“Do you find something amusing, Miss Chalmers?”

“Captain Chalmers,” she corrected him. “I’m sorry. I did have an amusing thought, but it’s none of my business.”

“Do tell.”

“You won’t like it.”

“There are any number of things about this mission I do not like, but I bear them with what equanimity I can.”

Goodness. Did all baronets talk like a dictionary, or just this one? “I was just thinking you’ve had a narrow escape. If things had been different, you would have been standing in a father’s place with the girls now, and that would have been even more trying for you.”

He stopped altogether, in the shade of a shop awning. “That is absolutely none of your business.”

“I said so, didn’t I? And I told you that you wouldn’t like it.”

“I had no idea—save me from your impertinence.” He stalked on.

Blast her big mouth. She had meant to needle him out of his stuffiness, and all she had done was tear the scab off a wound that was not yet healed. The poor man was striking out in pain, not arrogance. “Forgive me, Captain,” she said softly, tucking a conciliatory hand into the crook of his elbow as they strolled along together. Well, she was strolling. May as well pretend to be a fine lady while she tried to reef in the rope she’d already hung herself with. “I didn’t mean to offend you and I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

He cleared his throat, but instead of shaking off her hand, he allowed it to stay on his sleeve. “For us to speak of Lady Claire in this way dishonors her … and me. She has made her choice, and I am happy for her.”

“And you? What of your choices?”

“I have chosen my duty, of course.”

Of course. “But there is more to life than duty, and flying, and the sound of the wind in the ropes.”

“I might make this same observation to you, Captain.”

He must have forgiven her if he remembered to use her title. “That’s because we have more in common than you know.” The words fell out of her mouth before her mind realized it.

It took a moment for his understanding to catch up, and by then it was too late. “I see,” he said at last, in a tone of discovery. “You had entertained a similar hope, only to have it similarly dashed?”

“If you laugh at me, I swear I will push you in the canal,” she said fiercely, and tightened her hand on his arm as though she meant business.

But he did not laugh. “Believe me, affairs of the heart are no laughing matter. One puts on a smile if one can, and if one cannot—”

“One tears up the ballrooms of London?”

“Quite. Or the skies over the Atlantic.”

“Any success in that quarter? Mayfair, I mean?”

“None I wish to admit to. And yourself?”

“None at all. I’d admit to an opportunity if I had it, but I haven’t, darn it.” Which was a humiliating confession if ever there was one. “What about Miss Meriwether-Astor? I think you can admit to some success there, can’t you?”

“I hardly know the young lady well enough to say so.”

“Be careful, Ian. Using her for a screen is one thing, but her pa has his eye on you. I saw him watching at the ball last night. And you don’t want to hurt her, either.”

“I have no intention of hurting her.”

What did that mean? That he actually meant to court her? Or that he was going to be friendly and partner her for waltzes, but nothing more?

But Alice didn’t have the courage to ask him to elaborate. She really didn’t think she wanted to know the answer, anyhow.

“Here’s the hotel,” she said with some relief. “Let’s go in and see if Lizzie has come back.”

As they climbed the steps, her hand slipped from his arm, and with a sense of shock, she realized that a moment before, she had called him by his first name.

And he had allowed it.

16

“I must go somewhere cheerful,” Gloria Meriwether-Astor had said the moment they descended the ministry’s steps, her face as white as the Brussels lace on her blouse. “In the sun, where it is warm, and I cannot see the water.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” her father had replied in a tone that would have crushed any other young lady. “One cannot be anywhere in Venice out of sight of the water. I am due at the minister’s offices in half an hour. Are you coming?”

Claire had been quick to offer an invitation to take tea in her sunny sitting room. “Thank you,” Gloria said with relief—though whether this came from the thought of tea or of ridding herself of her parent, it was difficult to determine.

They had found the other members of their party already in the suite, sitting down to tea themselves.

Or almost all.

“Alice, I distinctly remember your departing with Tigg and Lizzie for
Athena
this morning,” Claire said. “Why have you returned and they have not?”

“We became separated,” Alice said with maddening brevity. “But that can wait until later.”

Granted, they could not very well speak of their true purpose in Venice in front of Gloria, lest it get back to her father and subsequently to the Minister of Justice, but were one or two salient details too much to ask? Add to this the fact that no good ever came of being separated, and Claire wondered if perhaps she ought to drag Alice off into one of the bedrooms and grill her like a fish.

“Very well,” she said instead, taking a biscuit she was unable to eat. Her stomach pitched with anxiety. “Are Tigg and Claude with her?”

“We split up into search parties, and I haven’t seen them. Claire, you’ll just have to wait for her to come back. Because you know she will.”

I do not know that at all
. So many dangers lurked in this city that looked so beautiful and serene on the surface, like a water lily, and underneath was so utterly terrifying.

“Would you like me to go look for them, Lady Claire?” Maggie asked. The use of her title told Claire that Maggie was aware both of the need for secrecy, and the fact that something might have gone dreadfully wrong.

“No need,” Ian Hollys said before Claire could reply. “Captain Chalmers and I had a good look round, but could turn up no sign of her.”

Gloria’s gaze took in Ian and Alice, sitting on either end of the sofa with Maggie like a flower in the middle. She seemed to relax a little, and waved a hand. “Don’t worry, Claire. Your Lizzie is a spirited young lady. Ten to one she is flirting with a Venetian boy on a bridge somewhere.”

“Tigg would have something to say about that,” Maggie observed. “They are keeping company.”

“Is that so?” Gloria’s eyes took on a sparkle of interest. “I do love a good romance. Is that why they ran away on you at the minister’s ball, too? To be alone?”

Goodness. There was nothing wrong with Gloria’s powers of observation. “I’m sure it was,” Claire said. “She received quite a lecture afterward about it, however—which, as you see, has done no good.”

The sound of rapid footsteps came from the corridor, and in a moment the object of their concern burst through the door, Tigg and Claude right behind her.

Lizzie’s green eyes were wide with urgency as she bounded into the room. “We heard Jake, Lady. In the prison. He’s alive!”

Claire’s relief washed through her like a tingle in the blood. Here at last was the proof they had been craving that he was not yet dead. But she must stem the tide of Lizzie’s words, quickly, before Gloria realized the sense of them. “Lizzie—”

“He recognized my voice—at least, he called my name, and Maggie’s,” Lizzie rushed on in her excitement. “He knows we’re here, so he knows we’ll be getting him out. I only hope we can do it before—” Belatedly, she realized that their number had been augmented by one. One, moreover, who was sitting in the wing chair, her cup of tea arrested in the air as she listened with interest. “Miss Meriwether-Astor,” Lizzie finished lamely. “How nice to see you.”