The Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl (16 page)

“I suppose I can’t object. You’ve made it clear that I’m in your debt.” She continued to eat, trying to pace herself and not appear too eager to fill her empty stomach.

“What could have happened to drive two of the prettiest, most eligible ladies in all of La Rochelle to jump aboard an aership and sign their lives away to the service of their country and king?” He took a bite and chewed slowly, watching her, then swallowed and continued. “Were you both really that bored with your pampered lives or is something amiss? By the looks of your friend, Vivienne, is it? I’d say the latter is true and I am here to assist you if needed. However, it would help me a great deal if I knew exactly what you were running from.”

Marguerite drew a deep breath. She could very easily tell Laviolette to take his charity and concern and throw them overboard, and that was her first instinct. But something told her that she could trust him. Something else told her that she had better trust him or she might regret it. The closer they flew to Montreal and New France, the more she realized she really didn’t have a plan, other than finding Claude, and even that had a slim chance of success.

“I am not sure how much I should say on behalf of Vivienne. We could probably leave it with the fact that her father is not the kind, caring sort that mine is.” She set down her fork and patted her mouth carefully with her napkin.

“And your father? If he is kind and caring, are you here only for Vivienne? I hadn’t pegged you as the self-sacrificing type.”

She wasn’t sure why, but his reply stung. “No, my father is a saint. I’m here because I want to be here. The end.”

“That can’t be all!” Laviolette looked genuinely disappointed.

“I’m afraid if you want long, drawn-out stories of tragedy and drama you’ll have to interview Vivienne, but I doubt she will ever have the nerve to relate it to anyone. As for me, I’m tired of being told what to do when, where, for how long, and with whom. I want a life of my own choosing—my own life.”

“And none of the more than fifty suitors at your ball seemed to be able to offer you that?”

Marguerite decided to be bold. “The only man who can offer me that is already in New France and I intend to find him.”

Laviolette raised his eyebrows. It was his turn to put down his fork and wipe his mouth. He sat back in his chair, clearly taken off guard.

“So you do have a heart under all that armor. Pity.”

“What’s a pity?”

“That you’ve given it away so quickly.” He rallied, sat forward, and began eating again. “So, what’s his name?”

“I’ll have you know that I did nothing of the sort
quickly.
Claude and I have known each other for years.”

“Claude, eh? I don’t seem to recall meeting anyone of that name at the ball.”

“He wasn’t at the ball. Well, not really.”

“Well, was he or wasn’t he?”

“He was there, just in the gardens. You wouldn’t have met him.” Why was she telling him all of this?

“Ah! So that’s who you were sneaking off to meet. Excellent. What does he do in New France? Duke? Lord? Major General? Oh! Daddy wouldn’t like that.”

“Never mind. It doesn't matter.” Marguerite thought about his detailed questions. “Do you personally watch every move I make or do you have a bot assigned to that task?”

“I’m far too busy for that job, my dear.” He took another big bite, chewed, swallowed, then added, “I have two bots assigned to the duty, and the steward, Dixon, who is assigned to your floor. He’s lurking in the hall now eavesdropping on everything we say.”

There was a scurrying noise just past the door back to the lift and Laviolette laughed heartily. “See! The rat is on the run!” He took a drink from his mug and then looked at her again. “In all seriousness, who is Claude and how do you mean to find him once we are in Montreal?”

Marguerite took a deep breath. Laviolette brought up a very good point. She had no way of knowing where to look once she got to New France; he might have insights she could use to make the job easier.

“His name is Claude Vadnay, he lived on the estate.”

“Cousin?”

“No, my father’s ward.” She paused then, afraid to be laughed at again. “He is a smithy.”

It was Laviolette’s turn to choke on his breakfast. “A smithy? Lord Vadnay’s daughter is running to New France to find a smithy? Oh, my dear. You will be in all the papers by morning if you aren’t already.”

“He’s not just a smithy! He’s brilliant!” She immediately leaped to Claude’s defense. “He built almost everything on our estate that’s of any use at all. He designed and built my bot, Outil, and she’s amazing!”

“Calm down, I believe you.” He reached across and patted her hand where she had grabbed the tablecloth in earnest. She could feel the heat from his fingers through her glove. He didn’t move his hand away after the last pat, so she did, returning it to her lap.

“You have to forgive me, you see, I’ve just learned that I lost out to a smithy. I’m not used to losing the things I want.” Laviolette leaned back in his chair, gauging her reaction to his confession.

Marguerite blushed and continued as if he hadn’t just admitted what she guessed he was admitting. Laviolette continued.

“So you say his name is Claude Vadnay and he’s a smithy; do you know anything else? Which regiment he joined? Where they were headed? The name of his commander?”

“Of course I do,” she lied quickly, hoping to get past the part where she was an idiot who ran off into the wild with no real information and no real plan.

“Of course you do. And you’ve written to inform him of your plan?”

“Yes, I used your sparkly new wireless telegraph as soon as we were aboard.”

“And have you heard back from him yet?” he inquired before finishing the last of his pastry.

“Of course not, it’s only been one day.” She did not like the judgment in his tone. “Listen, you don’t understand. They wanted me to marry that horrible Delacourte or they were going to ship me off to Lyon to a boarding school.”

“Oh, but I do understand! Marrying the wealthiest, most eligible bachelor in all of France sounds decidedly dreadful. And a school for spoiled rich girls? That’s a terrible, terrible fate.”

“Can you not be serious for more than five minutes at a time? You met Delacourte, you know how he is!”

“Yes, he was rather dull. I don’t know as I’d go so far as to say he’s horrible, but dull. Yes, definitely dull. And this Claude is not dull I take it?”

“No, he’s not. He is wonderful. He’s brilliant, like I said, and kind and fast and brave. He’s not afraid of anything.”

“Sounds like the perfect man for you, then.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. Being on the defensive was getting tedious.

“Never mind. Are you finished? Shall we take a tour of this boat now? Today is smooth sailing. They won’t need me on the bridge until later tonight and tomorrow when we hit the north winds.”

Marguerite was relieved to be done with their conversation about her plans. She did not like discussing Claude with Laviolette. In fact, she didn't like discussing anything with Laviolette. He was a buffoon, making a joke out of everything. All she wanted to do was scoop up every bit of food on the table and take it back to her room to share with Vivienne, but she was also desperate for a tour of the ship and no matter how she schemed, she knew this would have to come from Laviolette.

She took another two bites of eggs and patted her face delicately. “Yes, let’s go see this ship of yours.” As he was standing to help her from her chair she slipped two biscuits into her reticule. Insurance against another hungry afternoon avoiding this very situation.

The steward jumped back as the couple passed from observatory to lift. “You’ll have to come in the next load, Dixon.” Laviolette waved a hand of warning to the steward as he and Marguerite entered the lift. “Not enough room for decent folks.”

“Yes, Captain.” He looked genuinely disappointed as he handed Marguerite the fur coat once again.

“No thank you.” Even though she knew how cold it was outside she did not fancy feeling it against her face or its smell creeping up her nose.

Both men shrugged at each other and the bot with the pink apron stepped forward to latch the gates. Then she reached over and threw a switch on the wall that kicked the lift into action. It dropped suddenly, causing Marguerite to lose balance and grab Laviolette’s arm. He steadied her and smiled.

“Blasted engineers. You’d think that if they spend years designing a state-of-the-art aership they would at least put a little thought into the lifts.”

“I’m sure they were more concerned with efficiency for the crew, not creature comforts. Besides, you’ve been in the Navy for
decades
.” Marguerite deliberately stressed the word in hope of making Laviolette feel their age difference. “Haven’t you developed sea legs yet?”

“And just what would you know about efficiency for the crew?” Laviolette had to yell as they passed through the portals in the floor and into the open wind.

Marguerite started to holler her answer back at him but thought better of it. She still had her arm looped through his and desperately wanted to draw it back to hug around herself in defense against the wind, but was also aware that without the coat, Laviolette’s body was the only source of warmth available until they reached the lower decks. She started to shiver as the wind whipped around her, tickling through her dress with its icy fingers. Nevertheless, she gave up his warmth and pulled her arm back, wrapping it tightly around her waist.

She felt Laviolette look at her and was sure she could hear his sigh over the wind, but that was ridiculous. She focused on the gorgeous scenery and took a deep breath again, clearing her head and her lungs as they drifted slowly to the deck.

By the time the lift landed with a
thud
and a bot whipped the door open, Marguerite was shivering beyond that which she could hide. Laviolette snapped his fingers and hollered an order at a bot who ran into one of the small buildings connected to the large engine on the deck and ran back carrying a blanket. He nodded to the bot and held the blanket aloft for Marguerite’s approval. All along, the engine was thumping and the winds were howling as they flew at top speed toward New France.

She stepped up and grudgingly let him wrap the blanket around her shoulders. He let his hands rest there as he leaned in and spoke directly into her ear.

“Can you see just above that door there, a row of alabaster panels?” His breath was warm, his voice soft on her neck and ear as he pointed over her shoulder.

She nodded.

“Those are the monolythium plates. They take in the sunlight and … ”

“Convert it to heat, which in turn boils the water to produce steam to run the main machine works, but what have you filled the massive envelope with? Please don’t tell me you are using hydrogen gas?” She had to strain her voice for him to hear her cut in.

“Of course not! You’ve been spending a lot of time with your smithy friend after all.” He looked down on her, openly impressed.

“No, my father has a massive library of modern engineering books and journals.” She was practically screaming to be heard over the engines and wind now. “I read!”

“Of course you do.” He chuckled. “Let’s go inside!”

Marguerite held the blanket tightly about her shoulders as Captain Laviolette steered her toward the nearest door to the engine rooms. A bot was at the ready to usher them inside and secure the door behind them. The rush of freezing wind was instantly cut off and replaced by the warm hum of the engines before the pair.

“Not much quieter, but certainly warmer.” Laviolette kept leaning to her ear, nearly brushing it with his lips to communicate. It was unnerving, but Marguerite saw it as a challenge. She would not let this brazen man get the better of her sensibilities.

She walked forward with a purpose, handing her blanket to another bot. “What metals were used to construct the engines?” She placed her gloved hand on the side of a pale gold, thrumming box.

“Aluminum copper alloys mostly.”

“Ah, lightweight but able to withstand corrosion.” Marguerite did not bother to speak loud enough for Laviolette to hear her at this point.

“What was that?” He was at her side in two steps.

“Nothing,” she shouted, turning away from him. “What is this room over here?”

“That is the gas chamber. Where we store the backup gasses for the envelope, er … balloon.”

“I know what an envelope is.”

“Right.” He smiled at her again. “It’s off limits except to bots. Compressed helium is highly explosive.”

She turned back to him and looked down the other end of the engine room. “Well, what else is there to see?”

“Ah! Yes, I suppose I am the one giving the tour.” He made an about-face and offered her his arm. She rolled her eyes and walked ahead.

He trotted to catch up, ignoring her slight. “These are bot maintenance cabins.” He motioned to other doors off the main hallway they’d entered. “Very ingenious, don’t you think? Having the service and storage rooms next to the engine rooms. Saves much space and human hearing. We never have to come down here.” He shouted the last sentence at her as he easily matched her quick pace.