by Sandra Heath
When every line had been firmly attached, the balloon was eased still further by the pulleys, until it could be felt tugging at the car, anxious to rise into the air. The pulleys were made fast, and the men turned to look at William, who seemed more than well-pleased.
“Well done,” he said. “You’ve cut more than a minute off the time.”
They grinned, and returned to their other tasks.
Jane looked curiously at the pilot. “Forgive me, but why is speed so important? I would have thought that you’d wish to be slow but sure.”
“Ideally, I would, but when it takes a long time not only to inflate the balloon with hydrogen but to then attach the car, crowds can become very restive, even disgruntled. I have no intention of suffering the fate of some of my less-fortunate predecessors, who were practically lynched by impatient crowds.”
“Good heavens, how dreadful.” Jane was appalled.
“Would you like to see in the car?” he asked, anxious to keep her there as long as possible, and knowing that Christina was waiting for a moment to insist upon their return to Johnstone Street.
Jane accepted the invitation without hesitation. “Oh, yes, I’d love to,” she replied, giving Christina another defiant look before slipping her hand over the arm he offered.
Christina remained angrily where she was, silently calling Jane every despicable name under the sun, and according William a curse or two as well. If only she’d held her ground about going to the maze, they’d be safely at home now, sipping tea.
She watched as William assisted Jane up onto the staging, and then into the gilded car. As he followed and began to show her the various ropes and sundry other equipment, one of the pulleys suddenly gave way, causing the balloon to lurch and put all the strain on the remaining pulleys.
Jane gave a frightened cry, reaching out automatically to William, who steadied her and then looked swiftly at his men, but before he could shout orders to them, the other pulleys gave way under the uneven strain. With a jolt the balloon began to rise, the car swaying gently from side to side.
There was instant uproar as the men strove to catch the dangling ropes, but the balloon was eager to be free, seeming to almost leap higher out of reach. Beyond the scaffolding there were cheers as the balloon was perceived to be making an ascent, but the cheers soon turned to cries of alarm as it was realized that this voyage was an accident.
Shocked gasps ensued as the balloon rose higher and higher above the scaffolding, revealing the car and its two occupants. Everyone stared at the scandalous sight of Miss Jane Richmond, the future Lady St. Clement, standing tearfully in the gallant arms of the dashing young pilot.
Christina was numb with shock, watching in silent horror as the balloon began to drift on the breeze toward the center of Bath. Soon everyone in the gardens could see Jane’s plight, for instead of ducking prudently out of sight at the bottom of the car, she remained foolishly in full view, still in William Grenfell’s comforting embrace.
Her willful impetuosity had long promised to be her undoing, and now, at this of all delicate times in her life, it seemed to have been just that.
Chapter Thirteen
Christina gathered her skirts to hurry from the enclosure, intent upon keeping the balloon in sight as it drifted toward the hotel and Great Pulteney Street. It was all she could think of to do; it was all everyone else could think of as well, for the balloon’s unexpected ascent, to say nothing of its exceedingly interesting lady occupant, had riveted the attention of everyone in the Vauxhall. Christina’s dismay deepened with each second, for this time there wouldn’t be any hope of Jane’s folly remaining secret.
The balloon drifted serenely southwestward about fifty feet above the hotel roof, and there was uproar in the area by the loggia as a newly arrived wedding party fell into complete disarray, the guests gaping up into the sky instead of at the hitherto happy couple.
Seeing all the attention diverted from her on her great day, the overwrought bride dissolved into floods of tears, but her bridegroom hardly noticed; he was too busy craning his neck to catch the last glimpse of the balloon as it sailed slowly out of sight into Great Pulteney Street.
Christina pushed her way through the turmoil in the hotel lobby. Word of the amazing scene outside had already spread to every room, and all the people who’d been enjoying a sociable cup of tea or coffee now deserted their places to hurry outside into the street. Her way was barred for a time, there was simply too great a crush in the main entrance, and thus she overheard an exchange that gave due warning of how Jane’s impropriety was going to be greeted.
A rather vain young gentleman with an affected drawl was speaking to an equally vain and affected young lady at his side. “I say, Philippa, this is the very thing, you’re in with a chance after all.”
“A chance?”
“With St. Clement. Don’t tell me you can’t see that this will as good as finish the Richmond match as far as he’s concerned. Dammit, the wench may be a beauty, but she ain’t exactly class. Look at her, she’s actually hugging Grenfell! What sort of conduct is that for Robert Temple’s bride?”
The woman called Philippa gazed up at the swaying car beneath the balloon, her eyes sharpening cleverly. “The creature’s quite abandoned, and evidently doesn’t care who knows it. You’re right, Austin, she has no class at all. I vow that if I wished to dally with someone I shouldn’t, I wouldn’t do it in full view of the world.”
Austin laughed dryly. “No, my dear, you’d be on the floor of the car with him, well and truly out of sight.”
Christina heard no more, for at last she managed to push outside into the street, where the traffic was in chaos as several carriages attempted to turn in order to pursue the balloon into Bath.
* * *
High in the sky, Jane clung, terrified, to William, her eyes tightly closed. She was rigid with shock, deaf to his many pleas that she crouch down out of view in order to protect her reputation. After a while he gave up pleading, for it wasn’t having any effect, and anyway, there was so much pleasure to be gained from holding her in his arms. He was ashamed of himself, but couldn’t resist, and for a while he was oblivious of the dangers of the unexpected free flight; he was conscious only of the delight of her closeness.
He was brought sharply back to cold awareness by a sudden downdraft that caught the balloon, dragging it sharply earthward. The roofs and chimneys of the north side of Great Pulteney Street swung rapidly closer, and he collected his wits sufficiently to forcibly disentangle himself from Jane’s arms.
There were a number of sandbags on the floor of the car, and he picked one up, heaving it over the edge and shouting a warning down to the crowded street. The sandbag struck one of the roofs, dislodging several tiles, which fell with it to the pavement, scattering the crowds for a moment.
The balloon continued to descend, although more slowly, and William bent to discard a second sandbag. Jane held on weakly to one of the ropes, her breath catching on a sob as she peeped fearfully over the edge of the car at the scene swaying so alarmingly below.
With the ejection of the second sandbag, which burst in a cloud of sand as it was impaled on a wrought-iron railing, the balloon steadied and then began to climb gently again, still drifting inexorably toward the heart of the city.
William straightened with relief, searching in his pocket for his handkerchief and wiping his brow. He saw Jane’s pale anxious face as she continued to cling to the rope, and he reached out reassuringly to touch her arm.
“It’s all right, truly it is.”
“Are ... are we going to crash?” she asked tremulously.
“No, of course not,” he replied, although he knew he shouldn’t give any such categorical assurances when the truth was that a crash of some sort was a very probable outcome. He had no oars or wings, and he still had grave doubts about the efficiency of the flap valve, which he’d intended to test before attempting another ascent of any sort, whether captive or free, in daylight or at ni
ght.
Jane was heartened by his answer, and a small smile appeared on her lips. Suddenly the terrible fear subsided a little, and she began to look around with new eyes. The city was much further below now, the buildings gleaming white in the sun. She could see the river and the abbey, and on the hillside beyond William Street, the curving facades of the Circus and Royal Crescent. The sheer wonder of it all filled her with awed excitement, and she forgot the danger; she also forgot the terrible damage all this was inevitably going to do to her good name.
Her eyes were shining as she looked at William. “Oh, this is marvelous, as marvelous as I knew it would be.”
Glad to see her at least temporarily restored, he went to stand next to her. “Your introduction to flight may be unorthodox, but your reaction now is as I expected, for when we met I knew you were a kindred spirit.”
“Did you really?”
“Oh, yes.”
The breeze wafted the balloon, making it revolve slowly for a moment. A sliver of unease returned to Jane, making her instinctively reach out to him. He caught her hand, and after a second’s hesitation made so bold as to place his other hand tentatively around her waist. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, “everything’s going to be all right.”
She glanced into his eyes, not moving away as she should. She was exhilarated by the moment, seduced by the sheer wonder of flight, and by the flattering knowledge that the handsome pilot was bewitched by her.
She still had no thought for her reputation, or for the effect all this might have upon her prospects with Robert. She did think fleetingly of Christina, however, and looked over the edge at the surge of people and traffic following the balloon along Great Pulteney Street toward Laura Place and Johnstone Street. Was Christina among them? Or had she remained behind in Sydney Gardens?
* * *
Christina was hurrying along the pavement toward Laura Place, her heart beating swiftly now because she’d run all the way from the Vauxhall. She’d watched in horror as the balloon had almost descended onto the roof, and now could only hope that William would manage somehow to bring it down safely somewhere.
The open elegance of Laura Place lay ahead now, and Christina could see the windows of number 14A Johnstone Street. Oh, whatever would Father say when today’s events came to his ears? He was bound to hear this time, for Jane’s latest folly wasn’t a private dish of tea in the drawing room, it was very public indeed, and if the balloon continued on its present course, it was a folly that would eventually be witnessed from practically every street and window in Bath! At least Father would be spared actually seeing his daughter’s disgrace, for he’d still be at the Pump Room and would be for at least another hour. By the time he emerged, the awful voyage would hopefully be safely over. Hopefully.
Christina halted breathlessly at the beginning of Argyle Street, pressing back against the railings to avoid everyone else as she looked up again at the crimson-and-blue orb in the sky. She could see Jane and William in the car, standing far too close together. Oh, Jane, Jane, why can’t you at least stand away from him? Have you no sense at all?
Her heart pounding now with the effort of running so far, Christina made her way across Pulteney Bridge and up toward Milsom Street. There was mayhem in Bath’s most elegant shopping street, for a team of particularly highly strung horses was alarmed by the appearance of the balloon, shying and attempting to bolt. This unsettled other horses, made several dogs begin to bark, and then the surge of pedestrians added to the confusion.
Drifting perceptibly lower again, the balloon floated tranquilly on, its direction taking it now toward the Circus and Royal Crescent. Christina watched in increasing consternation. Was fate intent upon being as unkind as it was possible to be? Was it going to take the balloon and its notorious lady passenger right over Robert Temple’s Bath residence? Oh, please, no....
* * *
But fate had every intention of being that unkind; indeed its purpose seemed to be to actually bring the balloon to grief on the chimneys of Royal Crescent itself, as the two horrified occupants of the car were beginning to realize.
Jane had been so rapt in the wonder of flight that it was some time before she perceived that the rooftops were rather closer than they had been a few minutes before. She glanced at William. “Aren’t we descending?” she asked uneasily.
Looking down, he knew she was right. Quickly he left her side, bending to toss another sandbag over the side, shouting a warning below as he did so. The bag fell with an audible thud on to the cobbled area in the center of the Circus, once again dispersing the following crowds. The balloon shuddered momentarily, but then continued its very slow shallow descent, drifting inexorably above the roofs of Brook Street toward Royal Crescent.
Jane stared down as the Circus slid away beneath, and then Brook Street. Slowly she looked at William. “We’re still going down, aren’t we.” It was a statement of fact rather than a question.
He glanced reluctantly up at the rope that vanished into the neck of the balloon. Was it the flap valve again? Had it opened to allow hydrogen to escape? He reached up, gently pulling the rope. There was no response at all, and he knew then that the valve was indeed open. He tugged at the rope, hoping that by some miracle the motion might close the valve, but he knew it was in vain.
Jane looked at him in dismay. “Is it broken?”
“I fear so.” He left the rope, moving closer to her again, this time making no pretense about putting his arm around her waist. “I’ll look after you, Jane,” he murmured. “I’ll see that no harm comes to you.”
The majestic sweep of Royal Crescent loomed ever closer on the hillside ahead. She could hear the buzzing excitement of the crowds now, and the clatter of the various pursuing vehicles.
The balloon had been visible for so long, and its route clearly discerned, that many people had already gathered on the sloping grassland in front of the crescent. It seemed to Jane that every soul in the spa had turned out to watch, and at long last the full import of it all began to be borne in on her. The wonder of flight fled, to be replaced by a sinking feeling that had nothing to do with the balloon’s unalterable descent toward Bath’s most exclusive chimneys.
Disaster of more than one kind stared her horridly in the face, and she made it all worse than ever by turning wretchedly into William’s arms, hiding her face, but not her person, from the openmouthed stares of those on the ground.
* * *
Christina’s legs were aching, and her heart was pounding as if it would burst as she pursued the balloon along Brook Street and into Royal Crescent. There she halted, leaning weakly against the railings at the front of the grand curve of houses. The balloon was so low now that it barely cleared the first chimney. The crowds gasped in unison, a shared intake of breath that ended in utter silence as everyone watched in horror.
Christina stared up, very fearful for her sister’s safety. If the balloon struck one of the chimneys, the car might turn over, catapulting its occupants to the ground like the sandbags! She could see Jane’s frightened face, so very pale and vulnerable, and the firm set of William’s jaw as he held her close, evidently helpless to do anything but wait for whatever conclusion fate had decided upon.
Christina’s fingers curled convulsively around the iron railings as the car struck the next chimney, dislodging one of the pots, which crashed from the roof to the pavement, shattering into a thousand fragments. The balloon drifted on, and the next chimney was directly in its path.
Everyone was so intent upon what was happening on the roof that not many noticed Robert’s fine carriage drawn up in readiness at the curb outside his house. It was waiting to convey him to an appointment at Sheldon House, on the outskirts of the city, and the liveried coachman twisted on the box in order to watch the incredible goings-on overhead.
Robert emerged from his aunt’s house, pausing in astonishment to gaze at the crowds thronging the usually exclusive and empty slope before the crescent. He wore a fawn coat of quite superb
cut, and cream breeches that molded to his hips. A brown beaver top hat was tilted back on his dark hair, and he teased on his gloves, his cane tucked under his arm.
He surveyed the sea of upturned faces, and then stepped slowly onto the pavement by the waiting carriage, turning to look up at the roof to see what was causing all the interest. His lips parted momentarily as he saw the balloon, and Jane in William’s arms in the car.
As he watched, the car struck the next chimney pot, grating against it for what seemed like an age before swinging free again, rocking to and fro as the balloon drifted onward to the next obstacle, the chimney of Major General Sir Harold Penn-Blagington’s residence, immediately next door.
The car struck with a heavy blow this time, and at such an angle that it caught fast, arresting the balloon. For a moment there was a breathless silence; then everyone screamed as the car shifted, sliding down the slope of the roof and dragging the balloon heavily onto the chimney pot, which had cracked in the collision.
A jagged gash was torn in the rubberized taffeta, and the hydrogen that had been escaping slowly through the damaged flap valve now found instant freedom. The globe began to deflate visibly, collapsing over the roof like a discarded cloak.
* * *
The car continued to slide down the roof, tilting at such an alarming angle that Jane and William were knocked off balance. Jane screamed in terror, and William strove to keep hold of her as they were flung against the side of the car. The world seemed to lurch suddenly, and they were both vaguely aware of the watching crowd’s screams as the car tipped very slowly over the low stone balustrade at the edge of the roof.
William closed his eyes, holding Jane tightly. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear, thinking the words would surely be his last, but then there was a sickening jolt, and the car was suddenly still. The balloon itself was wrapped firmly around the chimney pot, and there was no more slack in the ropes; the car had fallen as far as it could.