A Borrowed Scot (24 page)

Chapter 25

“I
t’s going to be fine, Norma,” Veronica was saying, patting the girl on the back.

The young maid, one Montgomery had seen around the house, continued to sob, her face buried in a handkerchief, her shoulders shaking. Veronica reached for a cup, poured tea into it, and made the girl take it.

Sunlight, streaming through the broad windows behind them, danced on Veronica’s hair, touched it with gold and red.

He halted in the doorway of the Rose Parlor, wondering if he could disappear before he was seen.

Too late. Veronica looked up to see him. The slight shake of her head indicated, to his great relief, that he wasn’t required at the moment. Or possibly wasn’t even wanted.

It was that thought that kept him just beyond sight, listening.

“How did you know, Lady Fairfax?” the girl was saying. “Even Mrs. Brody doesn’t know, and she knows everything.”

“I felt your fear,” Veronica said simply.

He laid his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling of the corridor. His ancestors had painted vignettes of Scotland’s history on several squares, he’d been told. The one he was looking at portrayed a battle about to take place, as men were aligned on separate hills, their leaders facing each other on horseback.

He was damned tired of war, even in art.

“It doesn’t matter,” Veronica said, as if the girl had sent her a questioning look. “What’s necessary now is to plan for the future. Can you go home to have the child?”

The girl began to weep in earnest, but his curiosity kept him in place.

A moment later, Veronica spoke again. “Then we shall just have to find a home for you, Norma. Have you any friends or other family?”

“A cousin in Glasgow, Lady Fairfax.”

“Then we’ll write her, Norma.”

“I don’t want to be a burden to her, Lady Fairfax.”

Several minutes passed in silence, making him wonder, exactly, what was happening in the room. He peered around the doorway to see the girl had wrapped her arms around Veronica, and she was returning the hug, patting Norma on the back.

Evidently, the girl had found herself with child and was going to be sent away to live with relatives. Not an unusual arrangement. What Veronica said next, however, was not commonplace.

“You’ll not go to them penniless, Norma. I’ll see to that. You’ll have funds of your own. That way, you won’t be a poor relation.”

She’d said something like that the night before, something he’d dismissed without paying it much attention. Now, he could only wonder what kind of future Veronica might have had without marriage.

The longer he was around her, the more he learned. He knew, now, why she’d been at the Society of the Mercaii, why she was always so careful to extinguish a lamp, and why she’d begun a fire brigade.

What would he learn tomorrow?

“Oh, I couldn’t, Lady Fairfax,” Norma said now, pulling back and blotting at her eyes. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“It wasn’t right for your William to leave you in such a condition and disappear.”

“He’s a good man, Lady Fairfax. He was just frightened.”

“He wasn’t a man, Norma,” Veronica said firmly. “Men don’t run away from problems. They face them. They’re not afraid of them.”

That wasn’t entirely true. He’d been afraid numerous times in the last five years and wanted to run like the Devil was chasing him. Circumstances, and perhaps pride, had kept him rooted in place. What he wanted to do and what he was compelled to do were often different, fear be damned.

When he entered the room, Veronica shook her head again. He ignored her that time and approached Norma, awkwardly patting the girl on the shoulder.

“Was William a Doncaster Hall lad?” he asked.

Norma not only looked horrified at his presence but was evidently incapable of answering him.

He smiled to reassure her and kept patting her.

She blinked rapidly, curved her lips into a determined smile, and stared up at him. “No, Your Lordship,” she finally said.

He nodded and patted her one last time. “Tell Mrs. Brody I’ve given you the rest of the day. Go to your room and rest, Norma. Everything will be all right.”

She slowly stood, nodding. “If you say so, sir.” She offered the crumpled handkerchief to Veronica, but his wife merely closed Norma’s hand around it.

“Everything will be all right,” she said, repeating his words. Norma looked a great deal more convinced when Veronica said it.

When the girl left the room, he turned to Veronica.

“You felt her fear?”

She nodded, her face expressionless. Her eyes, however, bore a wary look, one he’d seen before.

“You’re afraid I’ll ridicule you,” he said.

She looked surprised at his assertion. “You haven’t made any secret of what you think of my Gift,” she said.

Had he been that intolerant of her?

“Are you feeling something from me right at the moment?”

She regarded him with more than a little suspicion.

“I want to know,” he said. “Truly.”

“Contentment, perhaps, but excitement, too.” She tilted her head to the side. “You’re flying today, and I expect you’re always excited to be flying.”

Surprised, he nodded. “I am. I’ve come to get you. Everyone else is already in place, waiting for me to fly.”

“You’re very certain you’ll be safe?”

He decided now was not the time to tell her about the other mishaps he’d had when piloting an airship. No flight was ever truly safe. Man was not a bird, after all, however much he might want to be.

They walked out of the house, and as they approached the arched bridge, he nodded to the people of Doncaster Hall. Most of the young men had asked to be part of the rope brigade, but the women were congregated near the bridge for the best view of the airship. He walked Veronica to Elspeth’s side.

Ahead, fully inflated, was the oval envelope of his airship, nearly three times the size of his balloon. The ship was the equal of the distillery behind it, the blue silk trembling in the faint breeze as if it were anxious to make its maiden voyage. A new burner, specially constructed for an envelope of this size, sat beneath its throat, roaring in excitement.

Veronica’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything further—no words of encouragement or caution or even curiosity. He stood in front of her and waited until her head tilted back, and her eyes met his. Only then did he realize she was trembling, too.

“Don’t be afraid, Veronica,” he said softly, then bent his head and, in full view of the crowd, kissed his wife.

She swayed against him, placing her hands on his chest.

Whenever he touched her, she took flame, as combustible as the burner on his airship. She was so responsive to him, she would have let him grab her hand, pull her into the distillery, and love her for the afternoon, to hell with their audience outside.

The temptation engaged him for more than a fleeting moment.

He ended the kiss, brushed his knuckles against her flushed cheek, and smiled.

“I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t look as if she believed him.

He hesitated, then walked toward the distillery. Sometimes, actions could demonstrate what words failed to convey.

“Today’s the day, Ralston,” he said, approaching the gondola. He nodded to the ten men holding the ropes. The envelope was still shivering, anxious to be gone from earth like a winged thoroughbred.

“That it is, Your Lordship. That it is.”

Both men stared up at the huge blue silk envelope. This ship differed from the one in which he’d taken Veronica. The first balloon had been launched to test the air currents. This ship would master them. The envelope was larger, oval, with a pointed nose. The gondola was rectangular and much longer than the basket for his balloon.

The main difference between the two vehicles, however, was that he could control the direction of the airship. At the top of the envelope were several baffles controlled by wires fed down through the balloon to a control panel in the gondola. In addition, he’d created vents on either side of the ship to direct airflow and a set of fins on the rear and the front to control direction.

If his design proved as successful as he hoped, he’d petition the United States government to reestablish the Balloon Corps. A balloon had a practical application beyond that of spying on the enemy’s troop movements in time of war.

“I’d ask you to accompany me,” he said to Ralston, “but you’ve already indicated how you feel about flying.”

“And if you’d asked me, I’d just have to tell you no, Your Lordship. I’m Scots by birth, British by law, and a Highlander by the grace of God, but I’m no eagle.”

Montgomery laughed, entered the gondola, and began his last-minute checks on the burner.

Ralston surprised him by producing a bottle of wine with a flourish. “I trust you’ll not object, sir, but I’ve taken a bottle from the cellar to christen your ship.”

“To do that, I’d have to name her, Ralston,” he said.

Ralston looked crestfallen. “Is that not done, sir?”

“Indeed it is,” he said, thinking of the two ships he’d piloted in the war. The
Freedom
had gone down in 1862; The
Union
had been retired a year later.

“Have you any ideas, sir?”

“The
Intrepid,
” he said, thinking of Veronica.

“A good choice, Your Lordship,” Ralston said. “Fearless.”

“Or audacious,” Montgomery said.

Ralston handed him the uncorked bottle of wine. Montgomery poured a little over the corner of the basket. “Should I say something, do you think?”

They stared up at the envelope, then at each other. The corner of Ralston’s mouth twitched.

“I’ve no knowledge of christening rituals, Your Lordship. Not for airships.”

“What about sailing ships? I’d think it would be similar, don’t you?”

Montgomery poured a little wine on the grass outside the gondola. “I christen thee the
Intrepid.
”

“A good choice, Your Lordship.”

“A good idea, Balloon Master.”

Ralston grinned, the unexpected expression banishing twenty years from his face.

He donned his gloves, turned the burner on full, and saluted Ralston.

“Best of luck, Your Lordship!” Ralston shouted over the increasing noise of the burner.

“Let it go, Ralston,” he called out.

Ralston gave the nod to the four lines of men holding the mooring ropes, and slowly they began to walk toward the gondola.

The inhabitants of Doncaster Hall cheered as the airship began its slow ascent. He smiled, pleased by their reaction, and waved. A moment later, however, he was involved with the details of flight: checking the burner, testing the navigational paddles as well as the wires to the baffles.

As always, the first twenty feet made him feel as if his stomach were dropping to his knees. Then the surge of excitement sent his blood racing and his pulse pounding.

Whenever he flew, he didn’t have to remember. The scenery wasn’t as important as the freedom he felt, untethered, and alone. Every flight, after that first adventure six years ago, he’d felt the same. Being airborne, the sensation of being poised between earth and heaven, was almost like taking a drug. Being in his airship made him feel both insignificant and powerful.

There, he could forget Virginia, could push back the specters of the last five years. There, even Alisdair, James, and Caroline did not follow.

As he hovered above the waving crowd of Scots, he realized he wouldn’t be alone. Not as long as people from Doncaster Hall were watching: anxious, excited, and amazed.

He was their laird, their leader.

They’d welcomed him, all the people of Doncaster Hall, with a great deal more grace than he’d accepted being there. Not once had he heard any grumbling. He was the 11
th
Lord Fairfax, and they’d simply acknowledged that circumstance had made him, temporarily to them, an American.

The hills around Doncaster Hall were so deeply green they appeared almost blue, the lushness appealing to the planter in him. Too many damn sheep grazed on the far hills, clinging tenaciously to the rocky ground at the base of the mountains. Had it not been for sheep, his grandfather would have remained in Scotland. Had it not been for sheep, Montgomery might have been a crofter himself. Or employed at Doncaster Hall, serving another Fairfax.

He should ask Edmund about the other employees at Doncaster Hall. What kept them here? The clan system was long gone. Or did they simply have a feel for the land, the country, the place?

Veronica felt the same tie.

I’m a Scot, Montgomery. I belong here.

The time had come to test his navigational design. He was hovering between Doncaster Hall and Ben Wyliss. If his prototype worked, he would be able to direct the ship back toward the house. If it didn’t, he’d basically be at the mercy of the winds, like a balloon, and his landing would be accomplished by releasing the heated air from the envelope.

He began his first pass, hearing the cheering and feeling like shouting himself as he guided the ship over the house. Damned if his design didn’t work! The second turn was as effortless as the first, and his smile felt permanently affixed.

The sudden sputtering sound caught his attention. Montgomery glanced up, saw the flame go from bright blue to orange to nothing. Reaching up, he fired the burner again, but the flame didn’t catch.

At least no one was shooting at him.

The last time he’d experienced a problem with a burner had been over Fort Monroe. On that occasion, they’d gone down in the Elizabeth River, a descent that might have killed both him and his helper if it had been over land.

The burner didn’t catch again, but the ship would still stay in the air for a few minutes, long enough for him to coast to a landing somewhere level. He wasn’t panicked; years of training had equipped him to think of all contingencies in a hurried yet orderly pattern.

Everything would have been fine if he hadn’t been too close to the damn mountain.

Of all the idiocy, to survive four years of war to die on a beautiful day in the Highlands.