Brilliant Devices (15 page)

Andrew waited outside. “All right, then?”

“I guess. Seems the Dunsmuirs have trouble up at their mine.”

“I got that impression as well. Something about an explosion.”

“One of the big engines—whatever that means. General feeling is it would take a lot of money and skill to pull off such a thing.”

Andrew walked beside her, his back straight, his gaze moving constantly from fuselage to wheels to gangways as they passed them. “I wonder if sabotage is a normal part of mining operations?”

“Doesn’t sound like it. They said the Dunsmuirs have a good record.”

“Until now. When they happen to be in the country, and Isobel Churchill is agitating the Esquimaux nation for indigenous rights.”

“You think them Esquimaux got that kind of money?” In her experience, the Injuns kept themselves to themselves and didn’t care much what the Territorial folks did, as long as they left them alone.

“I know nothing about them, Alice. But it might be worth a word in the earl’s ear.”

“For which he’ll tell us to mind our own business. I don’t know about you, but I ain’t getting mixed up in his affairs. All I want is to find my pa.”

“And all I want is to find the miscreants who shot at
us. But the tables were silent as the grave on that subject.”

“Maybe they’re still out on the prairie, hiding.”

“Or maybe they’re professional marksmen who know how to keep their mouths shut.”

“Or maybe they were just hunters after that an caftto telope, we got in the way
, and they’re afraid to come forward and admit it.”

“I think it unlikely, Alice.”

“I know,” she sighed. “What is Claire thinking, coming to this place, anyway? Seems awful dangerous, for all its balls and fancy dress and money. At least in Resolution, I knew what was what.”

“Did you?” Now it was his turn to sigh. “I wish I knew what was what.”

“Meaning?”

Silence, during which she did not dare to look at him. It was too dark
to see his face, anyway, as they passed into the massive shadow of the
Landgrafin Margrethe
. Fifty yards off, a pair of sentries paced back and forth before the gangway, and another patrolled the bow and mooring mast. The crew was taking no chances with the count’s safe recovery, it seemed.

“Alice—”

“Yes?”

“How soon do you plan to leave?”

“Tomorrow, I expect. Other than you nice folks, I got no reason to stay here. And I understand foreigners have to lift before the first snow, anyway, because of the ice problem.”

He had stopped, so she stopped with him, his form a darker shadow in the shadow under which they stood.

“Alice, would you object if I—”

What was he trying to get out? Great snakes, if he wanted her to take some lovelorn message to Claire, she was going to give serious consideration to whacking him on the skull with the Remington.

“Oh, dash it all, this is impossible!” he exclaimed.

Then h
e seized her roughly by her upper arms, and before she could even take a breath, his mouth came down on hers in a bruising kiss.

They were interrupted at breakfast by a messenger from the
Landgrafin Margrethe
, who was escorting a rather pale and silent Alice.

“Alice, do sit down and join us,” urged the countess, while Tigg jumped up from his seat and pulled her over to the table.

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” she mumbled. “This gentleman brought me over here all willy-nilly. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You are welcome at any time of the day or night,” Lord Dunsmuir told her. “Come and sit. Sir, you have a message from Count von Zeppelin?”

The officer
dragged his gaze away from Rosie the chicken, who was enjoying a biscuit and some berries on a saucer under the sideboard, and straightened as if the count himself had spoken. He clicked his heels together. “
Der Landgraf
has bidden me to convey to you his greetings. He inquires as to whether you are at home to visit fafttondgraf

“We are indeed at home.
But the count cannot mean to come over here himself when he is injured. The young ladies and Mr. Malvern will wait upon him at his convenience.”

But the man shook his head. “My lord is a man of action. If he were to put himself to bed every time he was a target, he would never get up. No, he will attend upon you here as soon as he may.”

The earl clearly knew when to back down in the face of a stronger force. “If the count would like to join us for breakfast, we should be very glad to see him.”

The officer bowed and vanished down the gangway.

“I adore the informality of this country—this airfield.” Davina returned to the table after giving the steward rapid instructions. “A request that would have been shocking in London—for who receives anyone before three in the afternoon, never mind at breakfast?—is utterly normal here.”

Claire sipped her tea and marveled at the strength of a man who could be shot in the evening and invite himself to breakfast the next morning. He was a man indeed whom any soldier would be glad to follow.
“Society ladies would faint in ranks at the very thought,” she agreed.

“I am afraid the count is more likely to faint—from loss of blood,” the earl said unhappily. “I do hope he has not been hasty in attempting a visit so soon after his injury.”

“If he does faint, you will catch him, Papa,” Willie piped from his father’s lap, where they had both been engaged in dissecting several walnuts and an orange. “Will he wear his sword?”

“This is not a formal occasion, my boy.” The earl opened his mouth so that Willie could feed him a walnut meat. “We
shall hold out hope for pistols, however.”

To Willie’s joy, the count was indeed armed when he arrived, though he divested himself of his twin Ruger pistols immediately upon coming into the countess’s presence, and handed guns and belt to one of his officers. When he bent over Davina’s hand, Claire saw that the bandage around his head had been replaced by a more discreet sticking plaster, partly covered by his flight cap.

“I am delighted to see you on your feet, my lord.” Instead of offering him her hand, Claire astonished herself and the whole company by rising on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek. “I feared for you, truly.”

The count’s face reddened and Claire would have given anything to be able to drop through the floor and
hide. What on earth had she been thinking?

But then she saw that his heightened color was the result of emotion, not affront.

“My officers have told me that you piloted the Daimler overland to bring me to safety, despite your own injury,” he said gruffly, blinking the moisture from his eyes. “Words express my gratitude poorly, I am afraid, but please allow me to thank you.”

“I did nothing that any friend would not.” Her own face was flaming scarlet by now—probably blotching in
a most unappealing way. “Andrew risked his life kskeorly, I in an attempt to give chase and to assist your captains, God rest their brave souls. And Alice was the one to ascertain your injuries at first and suggest a course of action.”

He pulled Alice and Andrew close and somehow managed to enfold all three of them in a hug that made up in feeling what it lacked in finesse. “I will never forget it.” He released them and cleared his throat, seating himself at last in the chair the earl held for him. “You have only to say a word and I will do anything in my power to repay
my debt.”

Alice shook her head. “
There is no debt, sir. Seeing you on your feet is reward enough for me—for us, if I can make so bold as to speak for Claire and—and Mr. Malvern.”

Claire could only nod
in agreement, and wonder why she did not look at either of them. Both she and Andrew seemed unusually silent this morning. Had some other dreadful thing happened? But how could it? Perhaps there had been more in the note Alice had received last night than she had believed.

They settled around the table. On either side of Claire, the Mopsies seemed torn between
choosing a jam for their biscuits and staring at the count. They knew the entire tale, of course, but Claire wondered whether they knew exactly who their guest was. Or perhaps they did not need to know. Perhaps it was enough for them to count him as a friend, with no trappings of rank or strings attached.

Davina passed a tray of eggs on toast to the count, and followed it with another loaded with sausages. “We have just been discussing our plans to lift today, Ferdinand
. I must confess to a mother’s fears for her child’s safety. Balls and visiting and outings to the theatre are all very well, but when laid in the balance next to last night’s events, they come up very short indeed.”

“You must not blame Edmonton for last night, my dear,” the count said, putting three fat sausages on his plate. “I have long since resigned myself to the fact that there are those who do not see progress and achievement in the same light as we.”

“Perhaps not, but when they start shooting to prove their point, something must be done.”

“Believe me, something will.” He glanced at Tigg, who was cutting a sausage for Willie. “But we will not speak of it in front of the children.”

“Why not?” Lizzie asked, suddenly as prickly as a cactus at this affront to her
capabilities. “The Lady ent afraid to start shooting, nor Alice—and me and Maggie, we’re not so shabby with the gaseous capsaicin, neither.”

Count von Zeppelin choked on his sausage, and while the earl clapped him on the back, Claire tried
heroically not to laugh.

Lizzie seemed rather pleased to have caused such a sensation.
Maggie elbowed her and spoke up. “Jake’s the Lady’s second cos Snouts ent ’ere, so ’e can fire the lightning rifle when ’e’s got it. Even our Willie’s done his duty as a scout when ’e’s ’ad to. None of us is little babies in prams.” She considered for a moment, then added, “Sir.”

The count drained half his coffee and gave a mighty swallow. “I consider mys k coingelf corrected, and look forward to discovering ex
actly what is this gaseous capsaicin, to say nothing of lightning rifles.”

“Don’t forget the firelamps, Lizzie,” Willie said. “I like those the best.”

Davina stared at him. “What on earth…?”

“Getting back to our plans,” Claire interjected hastily,
“I should be glad to go to the mine sooner rather than later. His lordship has been telling us of the great engines in use there to drill down to where the diamonds are embedded. I should like very much to see them.”

“From what I hear, sooner is better than later,” Alice said, and told them
about the danger of the ice. “We’d have to lift and be out of here pretty soon, anyway,” she finished, “considering the snow will fly any day now.”

“Then let me tell you what my men have discovered,” the count said with a long look at the Mopsies, who smiled sunny smiles and addressed
themselves at last to the jam pots. “They returned to the scene at first light and were able to discover where the gunmen lay as they fired.”

“Were there shell casings?” Alice asked.

“Alas, no. These weapons do not seem to depend on powder or brass, but rather on air pressure. The grass was flattened in a fan shape for ten feet, and there were depressions in the soil as though a large weapon had stood there. And they found one of these buried in the bank opposite the wreckage of my captains’ landau.” He dug in the pocket of his uniform jacket and held up the strangest projectile Claire had ever seen.

It was shaped like a bullet, but it had a tiny engine and propeller on its stern. Its nose was pushed in, likely from impact with earth instead of flesh. Her mind’s eye reconstructed what had happened in a flash. “That’s why we heard no report,” she exclaimed. “If they are using some kind of air gun, and the projectile’s speed is enhanced with an engine, it could do its damage silently.”