A Heart in Flight (4 page)

She knew, of course, that she would not. Her behavior that afternoon had certainly convinced him that she found his company abhorrent. She would not have the excitement of his conversation, but then neither would she be led into temptation. She sighed, actually regretting her rudeness. Never before had temptation appeared so pleasant.

Chapter Three

The first Thursday in May dawned bright and sunny—a good day for flight. Aurelia put on her best bombazine and the bonnet with the pink rosette.

Harold, of course, wore his aeronautical attire. His scarlet coat was adorned with enough gold braid to dazzle the weariest worldly eye. And his curly-brimmed beaver sported a dashing crimson feather. Beside such splendor she felt quite the drab sparrow.

But of course his clothes were part of the spectacle. Spectators wanted to see something more than just a balloon rising into the air. They came out for a show. And Uncle Arthur meant to give them one.

As the three of them approached the balloon, the crowd began to wave and cheer. For a moment she felt that they were cheering her. But only for a moment. Then she was brought back to the sad realization that when Harold soared heavenward, she would be left behind.

The balloon strained against the mooring ropes, its red, blue, yellow, and green panels glowing in the sun. The brightly painted wicker gondola seemed small, even fragile. But she knew it was all quite safe.

A hundred times she’d heard them discuss it. How simple it was to go up. To go down. A hundred times she’d done it in her imagination.

Of course, they hadn’t yet figured out a foolproof way to travel in the proper direction. To do that they had to find the right air current. And sometimes that could be difficult.

Still, none of that really mattered. They could fly. And that was above all wonderful.

“Oh, Uncle Arthur! It’s quite the most marvelous thing I’ve ever seen.”

He nodded happily, his round face glowing. “Yes, my dear. It is indeed.”

They stopped beside the basket, and she reached out a tentative hand to touch it. It moved under her fingers, almost like a live thing. It wanted to go, too. To float free.

Oh, it was so grossly unfair.

“Time to load up,” Harold said. He began to unpack the things they’d brought—blankets, maps, food, and water.

She forced herself to smile at him. It was not, after all, Harold’s fault that Papa had elicited that promise from Uncle Arthur. Harold would be willing—even happy— to share the heavens with her. It was Uncle Arthur who refused her that much-longed-for happiness.

“Oh, if only I could stand in it.” She turned to her uncle. “Please? Just for a little while? To see what it’s like? That wouldn’t break your promise.”

He was weakening, she could see. “Oh, very well. You may get in the basket. Harold will hand you the supplies. Pack them carefully.”

“Oh yes. Thank you.”

She climbed the platform and lowered herself into the gondola.

“You can help me weigh-off,” Harold said.

He was smiling, and she knew he understood her excitement. “Now, release a little gas.”

She pulled the rope that opened the lever.

“Just a little,” Harold cautioned. “Too much and she won’t rise.”

The balloon quivered. It was a strange sensation—to have it moving under her feet like some living being.

He passed her a pile of blankets, and she put them along the basket’s edge. They always traveled with emergency supplies. Uncle Arthur was a careful man.

She cast a longing look up at the sky. Soon Harold would be up there.

He handed her the water jugs. “I’m sorry, Reely,” he whispered. “I know you want to go up.”

She nodded, unable to speak. She wanted it so badly. It was horribly unfair.

Under a tree some distance away, her uncle was discussing aeronautics with two elegantly dressed gentlemen. “Harold,” he called.

“Coming, Papa.”                        

Aurelia watched them for a moment. Then she looked up at the towering balloon. It strained at the tether ropes. Oh, to go up. Just once.

But in a few minutes they would come back. They would make her get out of the gondola. And Harold would get in and sail away. Unless . . .

Her heart jumped around in her throat. Everything was already aboard. She knew exactly what to do. And she would do it. If only they didn’t come back too soon.

She bent and began unfastening the tether ropes. She would prove to Uncle Arthur that she
could
be an aeronaut. And then ... The last rope canoe loose, and the balloon floated upward.

It was quite unlike anything she had imagined. She stood, gripping the basket’s rim, while the ground receded below her. The people, their heads tilted back, watched and cheered. They thought she was part of the act.

She heard one muttered exclamation from Uncle Arthur. But he did not call up to order her down. Perhaps he didn’t want people to know something had gone wrong.

But whatever he thought, it couldn’t matter. At that moment nothing mattered but the wondrous fact of being airborne.

All around her the world was growing. She could see farther and farther—and in all directions. Incredibly, the floor of the basket did not seem to move at all. Under her feet it remained firm and solid.

As Hyde Park fell away, she drew in a deep breath. Oh, the beauty of it. The peace. The serenity.

She stretched her arms wide, wanting to encompass it all. It was worth everything—anything—to have this experience at last.

But she must make the most of it. Let’s see. Drop ballast to go up. Release gas to go down. She was already quite high, gloriously high.

Treetops like green carpet. And the sky—the brilliant blue sky. Oh, it was so marvelously beautiful.

It was some minutes later before she realized that she was growing chill. Of course, she was reaching the rarefied atmosphere Uncle Arthur had mentioned.

She took a blanket from the pile and draped it, shawl-like, around her shoulders. Snuggled into it, she smiled and leaned on the basket’s rim. Air flight at last.

The world unfolded itself beneath her, and Aurelia lost herself in its beauty. Twice she added blankets to the one around her shoulders. But finally the increasing cold became too much to bear. And she could no longer forget Uncle Arthur. He would be angry. But he would also be worried.

With a sigh, she pulled herself from contemplation of the lovely vista of sky and earth and began searching for that particular patch of green from which she’d ascended. She’d had her fun, and now it was time to pay the piper.

But she could not see Hyde Park. There were meadows and treetops. Winding ribbon roads and miniature houses and barns. Even little dots of people. But there was nothing that looked like Hyde Park. Nothing at all.

And then she noticed that the ground beneath was flowing by quite rapidly. The wind was bearing the balloon along, faster and faster. But in what direction?

She consulted the compass mounted on the basket’s rim. Southeast—the wind was bearing her to the southeast. That way lay Dover. And beyond Dover the Channel!

“Well.” She said it aloud because she longed suddenly for the sound of a human voice. “I’ll just drop down and catch a current going the other way.”

She pulled the rope that opened the valve to release gas. The balloon descended a little. But the air current still kept pushing it toward the Channel.

“Calm,” said Aurelia to herself, in a voice that was not noticeably so. “I must be calm. If I can’t get back to Hyde Park, I’ll just land. Anywhere will do.” And she released more gas. “It will just take a little time.”

But this current, too, bore the balloon southeast. And the sky, which had been so breathtakingly blue, turned dark and threatening. A great glowering cloud blotted out the sun. And huge drops of rain began pelting down, bouncing off her bonnet, and soaking into the blankets.

Thunder rumbled and rolled above her. A flash of lightning leaping out of a cloud sent her tumbling backward. She hit the rim of the gondola and slid to the floor. For a moment she huddled there, dazed.

But then she scrambled to her feet and reached for the rope. If she could bring the balloon down safely through such a raging storm, wouldn’t Uncle Arthur have to admit to her capabilities?

There! To the left. Beyond that mass of treetops. Was that a meadow? She pulled again at the rope.

The wind was growing stronger. It buffeted the big balloon from side to side, making it hard for her to keep erect.

Clinging to the basket’s rim, she peered from beneath her dripping bonnet. That
was
a meadow. She yanked at the valve rope.

Suddenly, the wind took the balloon and, with a great sickening swoop, dropped it downward. Aurelia tumbled backward again. There were terrible noises—of scratching, of scraping, of snapping branches. She dragged herself to her feet in time to see that she was headed right for a huge wall.

The gondola struck another branch and tilted sideways. She lost her grip, falling heavily against the ballast. There was a terrible sickening crash, the sound of whinnying horses, and, then, blessed darkness.

She woke to find herself in a strange bed. She was oddly light-headed and the room’ had a curious tendency to blur, but she was alive. She tried to raise her head, but it was terribly heavy and throbbed horribly.

Her right ankle, too, must have been injured. A dull pain ate at it. Slowly, she tested her limbs, laboriously raising each of them. They, at least, were functioning.

Carefully, she raised a hand to her head, which by now was thudding dully. Her probing fingers found a large lump on her left temple. She let her arm fall back onto the coverlet. Oh dear, weak as a newborn kitten. And what had happened to the balloon? Uncle Arthur was going to be very angry. And rightly so.

The door opened, and she heard someone crossing the room. A man moved into her line of vision.

“So,” observed the Earl of Ranfield with obvious satisfaction. “You’re awake.”

A riot of questions raced through Aurelia’s mind, but she could only stare, wide-eyed.

“I suppose you’re wondering what happened,” he continued companionably, pulling up a delicate lyre-back chair and straddling it. Poor thing, she was obviously dazed. His first suspicion was clearly unfounded. No one would deliberately engineer such a mishap, not even a fortune-struck young woman.

Besides, her appearance had solved a problem for him. Now he would not have to return to the city to seek her out.

He suppressed an urge to pat her shoulder, and an even stronger one to smooth that golden hair.

Finally she found her tongue. “The balloon? What happened to the balloon?”

“It only suffered a few tears. I shouldn’t worry about it.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t!” She gave him a dark look. “But balloons cost a lot of money.” In her agitation she attempted to sit up, then grabbed at her head, and fell back.

“Please,” he said. “Don’t bedevil yourself.”

But she wasn’t hearing him. “I must get back to London.”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible just yet. My physician assures me that travel is out of the question for you for some time to come.”

“Oh no.” She pulled herself up in the bed. More slowly this time. “Really, milord, I cannot possibly impose upon your hospitality. I must return to London.”

He tried to smile encouragingly. Why didn’t she believe him? “I assure you, my dear Miss Amesley, I always attend to the words of my physician, a very wise man.”

“But ...”she faltered.

She must still be in pain. Cleariy she was not up to traveling.

“They will be worried about me. Harold and Uncle Arthur.”

He tried to reassure her. “I have thought of that very contingency. In fact, I dispatched a rider to tell Harold that you’re here.”

She was looking quite pale. “Here,” he said, getting to his feet. “Let me help you to lie down. You don’t want to take a chill.”

And then she looked down and realized that she was wearing only a nightdress. With a gasp she slid downward, clutching the coverlet. How refreshing her innocence was.

He reseated himself. “How fortunate that you and Phoebe are of a size.”

She stared at him. “Phoebe?”

“Yes,” he explained. “It is her nightdress that you are wearing. Phoebe is Cousin Prudence’s daughter.” He smiled at her again. “Several years ago Cousin Prudence was widowed. And, since I needed someone to manage my household, she came here. And Phoebe with her.”

Aurelia nodded. Her bead seemed all fuzzy. Thoughts wandered around, bumping into each other like pedestrians in a London fog. But always her thoughts kept coming back to one thing—Uncle Arthur and their balloon.

“How did I come down? That is, did I do much damage?”

The Earl shook his head. “Not much. The gondola skimmed the tops off some trees. Then it crashed into my stable.”

“The horses! They weren’t injured?”

“No, no. Nothing was injured but yourself. Your ankle appears to be sprained. My physician says you must keep off it for several days. Also, you suffered a blow on the head when you fell against the sandbags. Dr. Monkton feels certain no concussion occurred, but still recommends bed rest. So you see,” he continued. “The prescription is a double one.”

Aurelia nodded. He was right, of course. She had no conveyance in which to return to London. There was the balloon to think of. And beyond that, she did not know that she would be able to undertake such a journey. The room was having a disconcerting tendency to blur around the edges.

His eyes held hers. “Think of this as your home until you are well again,” he said. His gaze turned critical. “It looks to me as if you are tiring. I believe you had better rest now. We will talk later.”

Rising from the chair, he again advanced to the bed. “Let me fluff up your pillows.”

He was so kind, so understanding. Why must her heart jump about in her breast like that?

One strong hand slid behind her to support her shoulders, while with the other he plumped up the pillows. She felt his hand through the thin gown, warm and comforting. Her face was only an inch from his waistcoat and she inhaled the male smell of him—leather and soap and a hint of pomade. It made her head whirl even more dizzily.