Miss Stranje taps Tess’s shoulder and glances suggestively at the tapestry hanging high up on the far wall. “Secure the room, if you would, please, Miss Aubreyson.”
The antiquated needlepoint depicts King Henry hunting deer along with his entourage of lords, ladies, and royal hounds. More importantly, it hides an opening to one of the school’s many secret passages. That particular eavesdropping perch is a leftover from the bygone Tudor era when everyone spied on everyone else, and is the only vulnerability in this particular room.
Georgie follows her gaze and pales. She once fell from that very spyhole, but she quickly composes herself. “I don’t think the servants are familiar with that passage. I can assure you it is no longer frequented. It’s crumbling and covered in spiderwebs and so much debris as to make it nearly impassable. I only stumbled upon it by accident.”
“Merely a precaution.” Our headmistress takes her seat.
Tess moves silently through the shadows to do our headmistress’s bidding; she lifts a measuring stick from one of the drawing tables. Georgie gives her a nod and fixes her eyes on the tapestry. With a quick jab, Tess runs the rod up beneath the heavy cloth and flings the hanging open. A gust of chilled air wafts into the room, but there is no movement from within the black gaping spyhole. Not even a rat’s rustle.
Georgie signals the all clear, and Tess closes the tapestry.
“At least for the moment, it appears we have some privacy.” Miss Stranje gestures for me to get on with it.
I glance sideways at the tapestry. “I doubt Alice would be so bold. Not after almost getting caught tonight.”
Miss Stranje winces at the mention of Alice’s name. “You caught her in the act?”
“No. I’ve no solid proof. But we know who it isn’t and that leaves little doubt it is one of the maids. We can’t very well report her based on mere conjecture. Not to mention the awkward position making such a grave accusation would put us in.”
Miss Stranje wears a shrewd I’d-already-thought-of-that expression, she drums her fingers waiting for me to say more.
“I believe we would be better served by exploiting her betrayal for our purposes.”
“Ah, very good.” Miss Stranje relaxes a fraction of an inch. “Now then, Lady Jane, let us hear this proposal of yours for keeping the warship prototype out of the Iron Crown’s hands.”
I take a deep breath, careful not to even peek in Alexander’s direction. “We must assume that by now Lady Daneska and Ghost will have discovered the steamship drawings they stole from us are hoaxes.”
“So soon?” Maya seems genuinely taken aback. “It has only been two days.”
“I’m afraid so.” Mr. Sinclair agrees with me, something he so rarely does. “Any competent engineer, if he were to study those drawings for more than an hour or so, ought to be able to sniff out the deception.”
“Thank you.” I’m careful to avoid looking at him, while acknowledging his contribution. “Which means we must presume Lady Daneska will have immediately sent a message to alert her cohorts in our region. Why else would the traitor have ventured out this evening, so soon after—”
“They figured it out, and summoned Alice out of the nest.” Georgie balls up her fists atop the table. “Lady Daneska saw the Mary Isabella the night they kidnapped Tess and fled with the plans. She’ll want the prototype.”
Tess sits back and crosses her arms. “How much do you think they know?”
“Mr. Sinclair and I saw the traitor point toward the cove. Alice must’ve told him when we planned to sail the steamship to London. We overheard him complain that two days didn’t leave much time.”
Sera touches my arm to draw my attention. “What do you suppose they’ll do?”
Miss Stranje gives a nod for me to go ahead and share my speculations.
“They only have three choices.” I tick the possibilities off on my fingers. “They must either attempt to steal the steamship, waylay it on its voyage, or abduct Mr. Sinclair and beat the actual plans out of him.”
Even in the poor light I notice Mr. Sinclair draw in a steadying breath and clamp his jaw tight.
His pallor makes me regret my callous tone. In a feeble attempt to reassure him I say, “You needn’t worry, Mr. Sinclair. Abducting you is the least advisable of their choices. Highly impractical. They tried capturing you before and it didn’t work. More importantly, doing so would fail to keep the steamship out of Britain’s hands. At best, it would only give Napoleon a chance to build one to compete with ours.”
Tess grumbles. “Don’t underestimate Lady Daneska’s vindictive streak. She will be furious at having been tricked.”
“Doubly so for also having lost you.” Sera glances pointedly at Tess. “You were to be her gift to Napoleon, his own private dreamer.”
Georgie clasps her hands even tighter. “Tess is right. We cannot depend upon logic in this case. Lady Daneska may be so angry she’ll abandon common sense in favor of revenge.”
“That would be true, if it were not for one thing…” I tap the table calling us all back from the nightmare we so recently experienced. The trauma of our last encounter with Lady Daneska and Ghost is still too fresh. We almost lost both Tess and Madame Cho.
“One thing?” Georgie is skeptical. “I can’t see how any one thing would influence Lady Daneska to behave within the boundaries of reason and common sense.”
“Time is crucial,” I explain. “It is imperative for Napoleon to strike Britain while our armies are pinned down in northern Europe and we’re vulnerable. Lady Daneska will do anything to increase her standing with the emperor. We need only ask ourselves which of the alternatives would prove most beneficial for Napoleon? That’s the thing she and Ghost will order their men to do.”
“She’ll send them to steal the ship,” Tess says with quiet conviction. I’m impressed. No one here knows Lady Daneska better than Tess.
“When?” Sera leans in beside me and repeats the question, this time loud enough for everyone to hear. “When do you think they’ll try to steal it?”
“That depends.” I pick up the compass and use the point to indicate France, where it is possible Lady Daneska is conferring at this very moment with Emperor Napoleon. “If their spies here in England wait for orders from Ghost or Lady Daneska, I expect it will be tomorrow night. If they act on their own volition, it is my considered opinion they will come for it today, before the sun rises.”
“Then what are we doing here?” Mr. Sinclair stands abruptly. “Daybreak is only a few hours away!”
Before anyone can answer, the door swings open and bangs against the wall. The unmistakable silhouette of Lord Ravencross stands in the doorway.
“What the devil is going on?” He strides into the room looming over all of us like the long shadow of a giant.
Tess jumps up from her chair and is halfway to him, but Miss Stranje blocks her path. “My lord. You should not be out of bed. The doctor gave strict orders—”
“By my reckoning neither should any of you.” His voice is more of a low growl than the civil tones of a gentleman. “Now, I won’t ask again, why are you all sitting here in the dark like druids at some sort of midnight sacrifice?”
Tess steps around Miss Stranje. Her words are a scold, but her manner is gentle and soothing. “My lord, your house is across the park. When last I checked you are not authorized to issue orders here. If you mean to bark commands we will have you carried home on a litter.” She takes his arm and guides him to the settee. “If those stitches in your chest rip out again, I shall be quite cross with you. Shall I summon the doctor? I thought he gave you laudanum to help you sleep.” At Tess’s touch, he softens, and allows her to situate him on our worn workroom settee.
She props a cushion beneath his head, and he complains to her. “I can’t very well sleep with girls and footmen and everyone else in the county stomping around as if it is noonday.”
“No one has been stomping, my lord.” She tucks a crocheted afghan around him.
He refuses to settle in and sits back up, frowning particularly hard at Mr. Sinclair. “Why’re you here? How come you’re slicked up like a dandy on his way to court?”
“As a matter of fact, I was just leaving.” Mr. Sinclair bows curtly to us. “Ladies, if you will excuse me, I must go protect my ship.”
“Wait!” I spring to my feet. “You must listen to the plan first.”
Mr. Sinclair does not turn back, neither does he answer, because Lord Wyatt and Captain Grey burst into the room. “We came as soon as we got word.”
Georgie bolts out of her chair, and I feel the need to scream at all these intrusions. Instead, I sigh loudly. “We have very little time. Please! Everyone stop and think.” I stab my finger at the map, right beside the red pin marking the location of Stranje House. “If the Iron Crown isn’t able to steal the steamship here in the cove, ask yourselves, what will be their next move?”
Alexander turns and gives me a quizzical sideways frown, considering my question.
Captain Grey, who can always be counted on to keep a level head in a crisis, strides to the map. He stares at it thoughtfully and points to a spot beyond the mouth of the Thames where the river begins to narrow. “If I were them, I’d try to take the Mary Isabella here where the current is weakest. I’d chase her up one of these tributaries. Here at Holehaven. Or better yet, here, where the Hadleigh Ray empties into the Thames.” He raps the map with his knuckles. “Right here, just as the Mary Isabella comes steaming toward Canvey Island.”
“You’re right.” Alexander rakes a hand through his hair and leans over the map. “With two or three boats they might be able to pin me in there, leaving me no room to maneuver except up the waterway, where I’d be trapped.”
“Precisely. It is the ideal place to seize the prototype.” They have confirmed the worst of my scenarios. I struggle to moderate my voice to a ladylike calm. Drawing in a deep breath, I press forward with the rest of my strategy. “Which is why we must make the Iron Crown think that is exactly where you are going.”
They all look at me as if I’m daft.
“Alice must be convinced you have fled with the steamship this very night.” I try to make them understand. “Everything depends upon it.”
“What are you saying?” Mr. Sinclair turns a bleak expression on me. “The ship is still there. If they find it hidden in the cove, there won’t be any need for them to lie in wait for me at the Thames. They’ll have already captured it.”
Lord Wyatt holds open his coat and reveals a sidearm pistol and a sword. “We won’t let them take your ship.”
“Yes, you could go down to the cove,” I say, rather loudly, worried all the gentlemen in the room will gallop off to battle before hearing me out. “You could wait for Ghost’s men to arrive and shoot them all dead. I’m quite certain the magistrate and his curious son will be delighted to wrestle with the problem of more dead bodies floating up around our school. It’s only been two weeks since the last incident. Even so, it doesn’t change the fact that you still need to get the steamship to London. Which means, you will still face the problem of more men from the Iron Crown pirating it on the Thames. Or for that matter, attacking you at sea.”
“If shooting the thieving scoundrels is not the answer, what do you have in mind?” Lord Wyatt crosses his arms, vexed, and Mr. Sinclair follows his lead.
Everyone in the room stares at me expectantly, even Lord Ravencross rises up on his elbow, and that heavy millstone returns to my neck. Except this time, it feels like it weighs thirty stone instead of twelve.
This had better work.
“I propose we go to the cove right now and dismantle the steamship, and hide the parts.”
Mr. Sinclair groans and tosses up his hands. “Dismantle it?”
The lamp flickers as I lift my hands pleading with him. “Hear me out.”
Before I can say more, Georgie pushes in. “Where could we possibly hide those pontoons and all the mechanisms so the traitor wouldn’t discover them?”
It surprises me when Lord Ravencross clears his throat. “You could carry it to my barns and cover the pieces with hay.”
Lord Wyatt rubs his chin considering this idea.
“Most generous, my lord.” Miss Stranje thanks Lord Ravencross, but whirls back to me. “Have you forgotten? Lord Castlereagh and the Admiralty expect the ship to arrive in London next week.”
“We will not disappoint them.” I answer with a confidence I wish I felt more deeply.
Captain Grey studies me. “If it’s dismantled, how do you propose we get it there?”
I meet his forthright gaze and confirm what he has already deduced. “We’ll transport it by road.”
“That makes no sense.” Mr. Sinclair shakes his head. “The Mary Isabella is just as defenseless against attack on the highway as it is at sea. More so—”
“Not if it’s disguised,” I say, turning a piece of graphite over in my fingers.
“Disguised?” Maya, who rarely speaks up in these meetings, sits forward intrigued. “How do you intend to disguise an entire ship? Those pontoons are longer than this table.”
Sera is deep in thought, but she glances up, her eyes alight, and I think she has guessed what I am about to say.
I toss down the graphite and place my hands on the table, leaning forward to explain. “Your tenants have already begun shearing sheep, Captain Grey. They’re doing it before summer to prevent flies from laying eggs in their coats, that way the wool will be of higher quality. The upshot is, very soon they’ll need to cart the wool to market.”
“Ah.” He nods approvingly. “You’re thinking of hiding the ship and her boilers under the bags of wool fleeces.”
“Just so.” I smile broadly. “Recalling the measurements, I believe if we angle it, one pontoon will fit at the bottom of a farm wagon. So, we’ll require two wagons, and I rather thought we might want to stuff the mechanical parts inside the bags with the wool to conceal them better.”
“Clever,” Captain Grey admits. “We will dress ourselves as farmers and ride along to protect the wagons during the trip.”
“It might just work. I’ll send word to Mr. Digby and a few of the others to come and help us guard the wagons.” Lord Wyatt slaps Alexander on the shoulder. “Chin up, Sinclair. You and your ship will astonish the Admiralty. You’ll see. All will be well.”
Georgie chafes her hands nervously against her hips. “If all of us work together, we ought to be able to take the Mary Isabella apart in an hour or two, but we must hurry and all of us will need to help.”
Lord Ravencross is stretched out on the couch and even though his eyes are closed he issues more orders. “Miss Stranje, send that footman of yours to fetch MacDougal. I’ll instruct him to lend you two or three of our local lads out of the militia, who are encamped at my house. Men we can trust. They can help carry the pieces of Mr. Sinclair’s ship up the bluffs and into my barn.”
“Thank you, my lord.” She inclines her head. “That will speed things along.”
I need their attention for one more point. “The moment Mr. Sinclair finishes overseeing the dismantling, we must also hide him so Alice assumes he has sailed away with his ship.”
“Hide him where?” Georgie turns back to me. “I suppose the dungeons might work.”
“Can’t.” Tess shakes her head. “That’s the first place Alice would check.”
Miss Stranje pushes back from the table and stands. “Indeed. I suspect Alice may have snuck down to see Lady Daneska when we had her housed there last week.”
I twist the thumbscrew on the bow compass. “True, and if she sees us going downstairs with food, she’s bound to suspect something.”
“There’s one place she wouldn’t look for him.” Georgie exchanges a conspiratorial glance with Sera. Sera catches the corner of her lip, as she does when something alarms her. I know exactly where they are thinking of hiding him, and brighten at the thought.
Miss Stranje sharpens her beak in our d
irection. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of housing Mr. Sinclair in the garret above the dormitorium?”
Alexander looks from our headmistress to me. “What garret?”
Her brow furrows. I have long suspected Miss Stranje is aware of the secret meeting place we girls have in the attic. Now, there is no doubt. “I think not. That would be highly improper. No, absolutely not,” she declares with finality. “It stretches the bounds of propriety too far.”
Captain Grey reaches for her hand to reassure her. “My dear Miss Stranje, there’s no need to trouble yourself. Mr. Sinclair will be our guest at the dower house. We ought to have moved him there last week.”
My heart sinks at the thought of Alexander spending his last days in our vicinity hiding a half mile up the road instead of here at Stranje House. I risk an impertinent question. “That is a very kind offer, Captain, but can you be certain none of your servants will gossip with ours?”
Captain Grey straightens the hem of his coat sleeve and grants me, not a smile, but his steady forthright assurance. “They are handpicked for their discretion.”
“As were mine.” Miss Stranje bristles.
“Hmm, yes, so they were.” Captain Grey thinks for a moment and brightens. “I have it. I shall arrange for both menservants to remain inside until Mr. Sinclair departs. I’ll assign them the onerous task of inventorying the entire contents of the household. That should require their attention the entire day, leaving them no time for venturing to the market, public house, or anywhere else where they might gossip.”
That seals it. After tonight, Alexander will be gone from our lives. Forever.
I make one last attempt to keep him here with us. “Yes, but what if someone sees him while traveling the road to your home? The traitor’s accomplice was hiding in the woods along that very road.”
Miss Stranje forestalls him from answering. “Lady Jane, you forget yourself. Captain Grey is very successful at what he does. You need not worry. He and Lord Wyatt are more than capable of concealing Mr. Sinclair while on the road. They do that sort of thing all the time. And now, so they’ll have an early start traveling that road, it is time we went and took apart the steamship.”
Refuge for Masterminds Page 5