Perilous Journey of the Much-Too-Spontaneous Girl (24 page)

“Lady Marguerite, forgive my forwardness. I find you to be an interesting person, and knowing that you are here with only a pack of food and a pistol, I brought this for you.” He handed her a paper-wrapped parcel.

“Oh, my, thank you.” She took the bundle and unwrapped it carefully. Inside was a simple dress, made of soft brown leather with delicate white beads sewn on the neckline. “This is so lovely, thank you, Otetiani.”

She smiled at him, and he nodded back, stone-faced as ever. Looking up at his lovely chiseled face, Marguerite saw the bright blue sky behind him and a wisp of white clouds float by. Behind the cloud, a splotch of brown suddenly appeared. Marguerite all but forgot her companion and her manners as she jumped for joy and called, “Outil! They are here! Daddy got my letter. They are here!”

The Henrietta drifted closer into view and began to give up altitude. She dropped anchor and Lucy, Louis, and Captain Butterfield waved from the deck.

“I will agree to take you on this trip, but only if you swear on your mother’s grave that you will behave yourself.” Captain Butterfield sat across from Marguerite on a stool in the barn. “I only came this far because I’ve heard a bit about this Claude of yours. Word travels fast in New France. I wanted to see his handiwork for myself. Not much to look at, eh?”

Marguerite looked around the barn that served as a smithie shop and sighed. “He really does deserve more. That’s why I asked my father to send you with the money. You have it, right?”

“I do, and plenty more to pay for your passage to North Carolina. I hope you appreciate this father of yours. Not many wild young aristocrats have daddies who support their rescue missions.”

“Father is fond of Captain Laviolette, and he understands how the military works—always leaving men behind,” Marguerite stood and walked over to a broken clock on the wall, and flicked carelessly at its exposed cogs. Captain Butterfield stood.

“We need to get going. Are you ready or—” The Captain looked Marguerite over from head to foot. She was still wearing the blue cotton dress smeared with the evidence of the afternoon.

“I’m just going to change. I haven’t wanted to go in the house and disturb them,” Marguerite pulled at the dress.

“Your father sent a trunk of clothes. You can change on the Henrietta if you’d like.”

“Oh, I think I will just jump in the washroom and slip into this.” She lifted up her brown paper package and made to leave the barn.

“You know, Lady Vadnay, I didn’t think much of you after your shenanigans out there—fool-brained rich girl—but this is the right thing to do. You keep your nose clean this time, and my opinion will be repaired.”

“I’m so glad, Captain. That is very nice to hear,” Marguerite smiled as she skipped quickly on her way to the washroom. A few moments later she was ready to go—buckskin dress and boots on, hair braided and pack set to go. She noticed the handsome Iroquois men appreciating her new outfit. She smiled and turned round for them. It was soft and warm and beautiful, in a simple way. The only thing it was missing was pockets.

Claude came out of the house to see them off, with Outil close behind. He stopped short when he saw Marguerite’s new outfit. “Well, this is unexpected,” he remarked.

“It was a gift from Otetiani. He noticed I didn’t have any clothes—unlike other men around here.” She laughed and shouldered her bag.

“Listen, I’m so sorry for the mess you walked into here. You must come back when things are settled. Louisa is doing very well, thanks to you and Outil, and the baby is going to be just fine. We just can’t thank you enough.”

Captain Butterfield approached them as they spoke. “Here’s the paperwork you asked for, Lady Vadnay.”

“Give it to Claude. It’s for him anyway,” she gave him a hug and looked for Outil. The automaton was talking to Otetiani and looking at his steamcycle closely. Claude took the papers and stuck them in his pocket, before he took Marguerite by the arm and started to walk her to the Henrietta’s lift.

“I just want you to know that we named the baby Francine Marguerite,” he said quietly and gave her hand a little squeeze.

Marguerite looked at him sideways. “Oh, Claude. Please, you don’t have to do that. Louisa doesn’t need to have any reminders of me hanging around. You should let her call the baby whatever she wants.”

“But it was her choice. She agrees with me. She’s grateful for your help and feels terrible about the way she’s acted.” He was earnest.

She hugged him again. “Just make sure you two are happy.”

“Be careful. And take this with you.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small gun.

“What is this?” Marguerite took it and admired the fine workmanship her friend always brought to his projects. Little brass gears turned as she moved the weapon back and forth in her hands. A weight inside shifted with the movements, and fine filigree decorated every inch of free space.

“It’s a gun, but it doesn’t fire traditional projectiles. The sliding weight inside creates friction as you move, which turns the gears and loads the energy tanks. The natural movement of your body will keep it loaded, and you can fire a stunning shot of power to anyone within close range. Simply shake it vigorously for a second shot in thirty seconds. Not very handy at long range, but more than adequate in a hand-to-hand altercation. Just don’t point it at anyone you like. There is enough potential energy in a full reserve to knock a person out for several hours if you hit them in the right spot.”

“Oh, Claude! Thank you.” Marguerite tucked it in her pack and climbed into the lift with Butterfield and Outil.

“Stay safe,” Claude called again.

“You too!” Marguerite watched as Claude opened the papers her father had prepared. She let a smile spread across her face as the realization dawned on his.

He suddenly looked up and yelled to her. “Marguerite! You are ridiculous, you know that, right?”

“My behavior is absolutely justified. Go do something amazing, will you?” she called back.

Outil leaned over and asked, “What did it say, m’lady?”

“It was a statement of finance. Father has agreed to be Claude’s benefactor, and he transferred the rest of the money I had from the cricket treasure to Claude’s name. He should be able to make himself a real steam forge and some bot helpers now.”

“That was very good of you, Lady Vadnay,” Outil replied with surprise.

Otetiani stood at Claude’s side and lifted one arm in a farewell gesture as his companions climbed on their steamcycles and prepared to leave.

“You never introduced me to that one. Does he like to fly? We should bring him with us.” Captain Butterfield elbowed Marguerite in the ribs and pointed to Otetiani.

“He is quite magnificent, but no, I doubt it would be a good idea to bring him with us, even if he would come.” She couldn’t imagine being able to think straight with the possibility of running into Otetiani around every corner on the ship. She needed to focus on Jacques. On deck, Lucy and Louis were waiting to greet them with smiles and pats on the back. Captain Butterfield called to the crew to pull anchor and head out.

“Take her as high as she can go, steamers. We’re heading over the border. Going into Brit country, then pirate land. You can thank Lady Marguerite for the wages. Let’s keep the sail up and the motors running. Up and out!”

The crew cheered, and Lucy pulled on Marguerite’s arm. “I can’t
believe
you survived! You are a wicked crazy thing. Come on, you get the benefactor’s quarters this time around. I’ll show you where they are.”

The ship sailed into the aether as Marguerite descended the stairs with Lucy to a much larger cabin with a much nicer bed than she’d had the last time on the Henrietta. A giant trunk was waiting at the foot of the bed as well. Marguerite opened it up and found a letter from her father on top of several dresses of different styles. On top of all of this sat three of her special order flight suits. Marguerite’s heart filled with gratitude.

My Dearest Marguerite,

Thank you for bringing young Claude’s predicament to my attention. He is a talented man, and I am most interested in seeing his abilities come to their full fruition. I fully expect you to return to me whole and happy with an expanded reservoir of wisdom from which to draw upon for future endeavors. My heart goes with you, as does a significant amount of my liquid assets. I pray you will not squander either. I pray for Captain Laviolette as well. It is a godless people he has fallen into. Do not assume to undertake this errand without assistance. Captain Butterfield has offered to guide you and protect you as best she can once you reach Cape Feare. Please be cautious and remember that you carry my heart in your chest.

All of my love,

Lord Vadnay

Marguerite smiled at the sweet words coupled with the formality of the signature. They truly had come a long way since the days of bickering over suitors and boarding school. “What does he say?” Lucy bounced on the balls of her feet as she stood next to Outil, both waiting for Marguerite to finish.

“He says we must come home alive,” Marguerite smiled as she folded the paper up and tucked it into her pack with her goggles. She added the small gun to the collection and then turned to her companions. “Now! We need to make a plan!” She clapped her hands and looked from one to the other.

“I thought you had a plan,” Lucy said.

“Lady Vadnay’s only plan is to fly south and get Captain Laviolette,” Outil offered.

“Right, but we need to work out some details, like how we find him once we are actually there,” Marguerite said as she looked out her little porthole.

“That would be a good idea,” Outil said.

“I’d suggest we meet with Captain Butterfield then,” Lucy said as she joined Marguerite at the window.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” The wild green and blue landscape below them was crowned with white clouds and glowing with bright spring sunlight.

“Yes, it most certainly is. There is nothing quite as wonderful as flying. Let’s get above deck and find the captain.” The three made their way back to the deck and found Louis scampering around with the other deck boys and a bot, trying to keep the ship’s course on track.

“Hello, Louis,” Marguerite called. “Where is Captain Butterfield?”

“Hello, m’lady! She’s down on the bridge now. Calling up orders on the pipes,” he smiled broadly as he answered. “Might I say, m’lady, that I watched you bounce off the envelope of that ship and get caught by the pirates, and I’m mighty glad you survived and that you weren’t set on fire.”

“You may say that, and I will join you in the sentiment. I was very grateful not to be set on fire as well.” Marguerite felt the chill in the air growing as the ship rose into the aether, and she took in Louis’s lack of a proper deck jacket. She would have to rectify that as soon as possible. The boy was already too thin. He needed a layer of fat and a layer of wool on his bones to do his job properly.

“Louis, is there anything you need? We are heading to the bridge,” she asked.

“No, Lady Vadnay, but it is ever so kind of you to ask,” he replied with a moony kind of look in his eyes.

Oh dear
, Marguerite thought,
time to leave.
“Very well, we will see you in the mess.”

The bridge was one level below deck and at the bow of the ship. Windows lined the walls, providing a clear view of their course. Instrument panels were crammed into every space available. Most looked to be made of spare parts and added on after original construction as an afterthought. Captain Butterfield sat in an overstuffed blue parlor chair in the center of the whole mess and was calling out orders to the bots and women manning the controls. A black pipe extended down from the ceiling above them. The Captain leaned over and called into it off and on. Marguerite guessed this was the pipe system Louis spoke of.

As Marguerite approached her chair, Captain Butterfield swung around. “Welcome to the magic room, Lady Vadnay. A bit cobbled together, but she does a lot of good things. How can I help you today?” Marguerite noted the change in the way the Captain addressed her now that her father was paying for the voyage. It was a welcome change, but also slightly annoying. She proceeded anyway.

“I was just wondering if we should come up with some sort of plan for extricating Captain Laviolette.”

“Ahh, yes. Well, first we have to survive the border crossing and the Brits. Then we have to get through the storms, and then I agreed to help you
find
Captain Laviolette. However, I’m not sure if we will be extricating him.”

“What do you mean?” Marguerite was growing tired of people telling her what she couldn’t do.

“Well, there are two options when you are captured by Captain Douleur. You either sign on as crew, or you are tortured for information and then dropped on a deserted island. It’s been at least a week since your Jacques was flown away with, so by now he’s both broken and dying in Nova Scotia, or he’s hoisting the mainsail and stoking the boilers for Douleur. Let’s just hope he didn’t get dumped in Britland. There’s no way our Frenchie vessel will be welcomed there, even if we are just picking up a fallen friend.”