A Heart in Flight

by Nina Coombs Pykare

  Aurelia nodded. “I am. But Phoebe, it is not easy to fall into a man’s arms when he is already carrying you about.”

  Chapter Nine

  The next afternoon the Earl loaded them all into a phaeton and drove them to the meadow. Aurelia, watching him from her place beside Uncle Arthur, wondered again how any man could look so elegantly turned out. There was never a wrinkle in the Earl’s coat of blue superfine. His inexpressibles were always spotless. And his boots looked like dust would never dare to deface them.

  “Is this not an ideal spot for ascensions?” he asked from the driver’s seat as he stopped the horses.

  “Yes,” said all the Amesleys together, looking out across the meadow. “Ideal.”

  “Ideal,” echoed Phoebe, her eyes on Harold.

  “Perhaps you’d care to walk about,” the Earl suggested. “Examine the terrain.”

  Harold hurried to help Phoebe out. “Capital idea,” he declared.

  “Yes,” Uncle Arthur agreed. “I’ll just take a stroll. Get the feel of the place.”

  As the others meandered off, Aurelia regarded the meadow. Her ankle was much better. She was able to move about the house without help, only favoring it a little, and being careful because the slippers borrowed from Phoebe were a trifle loose on her. But this turf looked very uneven. If she turned her ankle again! Momentarily she lost herself in visions of being carried about in the Earl’s arms once more. But the vision was only momentary.

  “So,” said the Earl, turning toward her with that smile that made her heart jump. “What should you like to do?”

  His question made her heart jump even faster. But, since she could never say aloud what she was thinking, she contented herself with a smile. “I should like to climb that tree—the spreading oak there on the edge of the meadow.”

  He looked perplexed, perhaps stunned was a better word. “You want to climb a tree?”

  “Yes, milord. To look out over the entire scene. And to test the air currents.”

  His eyes were glowing at her. For a second, in memory, she was sitting in the stream with his arms around her, while they laughed and laughed. If only he would put his arms around her now. He would not, of course, because he was a gentleman.

  She sighed and, hearing herself, sighed again. Lady Incognita’s heroines sighed often. It was almost second nature to them. And she was beginning to see why.

  Phoebe and Harold were already walking across the meadow—very close to each other. It was a pleasant sight. But shy as Harold was, Aurelia could not imagine he would speak soon. Phoebe was apt to get impatient.

  Uncle Arthur had gone in the opposite direction, muttering about various wind currents and prodding the turf with the toe of his half boot.

  The Earl shook himself out of his bemused state. “Do you climb trees often?” he inquired.

  Aurelia shook her head. “Not any more. When I was young, I did. It was quite entertaining.”

  She liked his smile. It made him even handsomer. If that were possible. “Didn’t you climb ...?”

  “Oh, yes,” he replied. “But I wasn’t hampered by a gown.” He studied hers, then raised an eyebrow. “Frankly, I don’t think you can do it in that rig.”

  She saw by his eyes that he was teasing her, but she frowned. “Then I shall have to prove you wrong.”

  “Aure—— Miss Amesley. Please. You have already had ...”

  She turned away and began to descend from the phaeton. Her head was a little light, and her breathing too rapid. But that was from hearing her Christian name on his lips. Or almost hearing it. Why must stupid convention insist on formality when she longed to hear him call her Aurelia?

  She reached the turf while he was still tying the horses. Without waiting, she began to make her way toward the huge oak.

  “Miss Amesley, stop. Let me help you.”

  He offered her his arm. She took it, remembering that first day at the Minerva when he had escorted her inside. There was no need to recall her sensations of that day. They were quite the same now. Only more intense. More exhilarating.

  She did not really want to climb a tree. She wanted ... She pushed the thought aside. To get what she wanted, she must follow The Plan. And The Plan said to climb a tree.

  They reached the oak and stood looking up. It was a fine tree for climbing, with good strong branches nicely spaced, its foliage not too closely packed.

  The Earl frowned. “Really, Miss Amesley. This hardly seems necessary.”

  She wished it were not. She wished he would just declare himself. But since he did not. The Plan must be heeded.

  “I wish to show you that females are quite as capable as males at climbing trees. And at other things—like aeronautics.”

  “There’s no need,” he began.

  But she cut him off. “Your hands, please.”

  Obediently he cupped his hands so she could step into them.

  “Now,” she said, “when I get up, you will turn your back.”

  He looked up at her. “Turn ...?”

  “Yes, of course. As you pointed out, this rig isn’t exactly suitable for climbing trees.”

  He sighed, but he nodded. “Just do not fall. Dr. Monkton is very busy this week.”

  His mouth was laughing, but his eyes were worried. Did that mean …?

  She stepped into his hands, and seconds later she was standing on the first big branch. He kept his gaze away from her, but even so it was difficult climbing about with a long dress dragging at her. It was not her old bombazine either, but one of Phoebe’s pretty gowns, a light concoction of yellow material, the color of sunshine. Its stylish long sleeves made reaching rather difficult. And if the gown should split across the shoulders ... But she had to go up before she could come down. And The Plan must be heeded.

  So she made her way higher and higher, planting each kid slipper carefully before she moved the other. She’d climbed many a tree as a girl, and the old skills came back. Without the hindrance of the gown, it would have been easy.

  Finally, she could go no farther. Leaning against the great trunk, she paused to catch her breath and take a long look at the sunny meadow. It was quite a pretty sight, framed by the green young leaves. Finally, she called down, “You may look now.”

  Ranfield was already looking. For some moments she’d been too occupied to notice him. Twice, when she came to a particularly difficult place, he’d opened his mouth to order her down. And twice he’d closed it again without saying anything. Aurelia Amesley was not the sort of woman one ordered about.

  He caught his breath. She looked so small up there. Enchanted. Like an ancient wood nymph. Or a spring sunbeam among the green leaves. “So,” he inquired. “How does one test the wind?”

  She smiled down at him. “You wet your finger and hold it up.” She demonstrated.

  He swallowed a sharp exclamation. Surely she could have done that on the ground. But there was no point in remonstrating with her. Better to take himself to task. How could he possibly fix his interest on such a woman? She would make his life one imbroglio after another.

  “Turn again,” she called. “I’m coming back down.”

  “But the last branch ... You will need me.”

  “I shall tell you when I reach it.”

  He swallowed an oath and turned to look out across the meadow. But he saw nothing. All his senses were focused on the tree behind him and that peaheaded female descending from it. If she fell ...

  Finally, after what seemed hours, she called, “You may turn again.”

  And there she was, standing on the lowest branch, lovely as an angel and exasperating as an imp of Satan. He moved closer. He would breathe easier once her feet were on solid ground. “Let me help you.”

  Aurelia’s heart commenced beating faster. He was so “heroish,” standing there with that worried look on his face. Now all she had to do was slide nicely down into his arms and look up into his face. And he would kiss her. At least, according to The Plan, that’s what he was
supposed to do.

  He raised his arms, and she stepped away from the trunk. One minute she was balancing fine, and the next, her slipper slid on the bark. “Oh, no!”

  She flew out of the tree, her slippers catching him full in the waistcoat. She had time only to see his look of utter astonishment before he cried out and fell backward. Seconds later he was supine on the grass, and she was sitting on his chest.

  “Oh dear!” She scrambled off to kneel beside him. “Milord? Ranfield?”

  His eyes were closed, and he seemed so pale. She stretched out a tentative hand and felt his cheek. A terrible tenderness washed over her and tears sprang to her eyes. If only she had the right to gather him in her arms. Oh, what should she do?

  And then his eyes opened. They were still a little glazed, but gradually they focused on her. “Are ... you hurt?” he asked.

  “Oh no! You ... you stopped my fall quite nicely.”

  Slowly he raised himself to a sitting position and put a hand to his head. “I’m glad to be of service,” he said, with a spark of his old humor.

  “Glad ...” She could not laugh, not until she knew. “Are you hurt?”

  He felt his limbs, then slowly shook his head. “I think not. Just a little winded.”

  He frowned. “What happened this time?”

  “It was the slipper. They’re Phoebe’s, you know. And a trifle large. I just slipped. On the bark. Oh, I am so sorry.”

  Ranfield considered this while he caught his breath. She did, indeed, look sorry. And he found it was worth having the wind knocked out of him to see her looking at him like that, to see concern on her pretty face. But this kind of thing could not go on. “Really, Miss Amesley, misfortune seems to dog your footsteps. Has it always been so?”

  She colored, the blood tinting her cheeks a healthy— and delectable—pink.

  “Oh no, milord. My accident with the balloon was the very first. I have climbed many trees and never slipped before.”

  “And the runaway horse?”

  More color rose to her cheeks. What did they mean, those blushes?

  She looked away from him. “I ... I had never had any riding accidents either, before the other day.”

  There was something more here, something he couldn’t understand, that accounted for her peculiar behavior. But until he knew what it was, he couldn’t seriously consider asking her ... He shouldn’t be considering it at all.

  He pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his clothes. She continued to kneel there, the yellow gown spread around her, her great dark eyes so contrite. She was so beautiful. For one glorious second he let himself imagine taking her in his arms and kissing away that frown. Then he shook himself. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. He offered her his hand. “Come, let’s find the others.”

  It was some hours later, their excursion over, before the two young women found themselves alone. As they approached her room, Aurelia waited for the rush of questions, but Phoebe was strangely quiet. She followed Aurelia into the room and sank into a chair, staring vacantly into space.

  Aurelia turned to look at her. “Phoebe, dear, are you ill?”

  “What?” Phoebe smiled. “Oh, no. I am just thinking.”

  Aurelia sat down on the chaise. “About Harold, no doubt.”

  Phoebe blushed prettily. “Yes. About him.” She sighed and went back to staring vacantly.

  Aurelia gnawed her lower lip. Phoebe was badly afflicted. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Phoebe shook her head. “Oh, no. It’s just ... Oh, Aurelia, I feel so peculiar. Especially when he’s about. I ...” She paused and raised a hand to her mouth. “Oh, my dear! I clean forgot. The Plan. How did it go?”

  Aurelia frowned. “Not as we intended.”

  “What happened?”

  “He let me climb the tree.”

  “Yes?”

  “And I managed that fine. Got way up. But when it was time to come down, I slipped.” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, it was the most horrible thing. I was all ready to slide gracefully into his arms, my face upturned. And ... and ...”

  “Oh, do tell me!”

  “And I slid off and hit him full in the waistcoat. It knocked him out. And then I landed on top of him.”

  “Oh, dear!” Phoebe looked uncertain whether to laugh or cry.

  “I got right off, of course. And he came to. I knelt right there, like Corinne did. But when he helped me up, nothing happened.”

  “Nothing happened.” Phoebe sighed. “It was the same with Harold and me.”

  “You fell on Harold?”

  “Oh, no. I mean, nothing happened.”

  “But you looked quite happy together.”

  “Perhaps so. But he did not kiss me.”

  “Phoebe! It is only Thursday. Harold has not even known you for a whole week.”

  “And how long did the dark stranger know Corrinne before he swept her up in his arms and declared that his heart was forever hers?”

  “Not long,” Aurelia said. “But Phoebe, Harold is not the dark stranger. Harold is very shy.” She took a turn around the room. “Phoebe, I’m not sure The Plan is going to work. Perhaps we have made a mistake thinking this way.”

  “Nonsense!” For a moment Phoebe became her usual brisk self. “It has to work. You must marry Ranfield.”

  “But I keep having these accidents.”

  Phoebe frowned. “Was he irate? Did he fly up in the boughs over what happened?”

  “Oh no. He was very polite and concerned for my welfare.”

  “Did he look like he wanted to”—Phoebe lowered her voice and glanced at the closed door—”kiss you?”

  “When he helped me up ... I thought ... There was warmth in his eyes. But he didn’t.”

  Phoebe considered her plaited fingers and then she raised her head and smiled. “That’s it,” she announced. “It’s too soon for both of them. We shall have to be patient.”

  Chapter Ten

  In the days that followed, both young women found their patience worn thin. Every day was spent working on the balloons. Great progress was made with aeronautics, but romance remained at a standstill.

  Two weeks of intensified labor had the Amesley balloon repaired and ready to fly. One afternoon, Aurelia and Phoebe stood watching white Uncle Arthur supervised the unloading of the barrels of iron filings and the jugs of chemicals that would be poured into them to form the hydrogen gas.

  The Earl and Harold came to stand beside them. “In a day or two,” Harold said to the Earl, “your balloon will be going up. We’ve got the brazier. And everything looks good.”

  “How I should love to fly,” Phoebe breathed, her eyes on Harold.

  “I should like to take you,” he replied. “But your mama ...”

  “Let us leave the first flights to more seasoned aeronauts,” the Earl suggested to Phoebe. “Miss Amesley and Harold should go up first. You and I will have our turn later.”

  Phoebe stared at him. “Really, Ranfield? You mean I shall actually get to go up? You promise? Oh, how marvelous.”

  Aurelia smiled, pleased with her friend’s happiness, pleased, too, with her own. At least something had gone right. Uncle Arthur had confirmed that he no longer felt constrained by his promise to her father. He asked only one thing of her—that she not go up alone. And, of course, she had agreed.

  The prospect of being aloft again made her feel quite light-headed. And if part of that light-headedness came from the knowledge that she and the Earl might share a flight ... Well, it was a breathtaking thought.

  The Earl cast a satisfied glance around him. “We have worked hard,” he said. “So tomorrow we will take a day off. We’ll have a little excursion to Pirates’ Cave.”

  His eyes met Aurelia’s. “I’ll have Cook pack a luncheon. We’ll eat by the sea.”

  She smiled at him. He was remembering his promise. “That sounds most entertaining.”

  Harold, his eyes on Phoebe, nodded. “Yes. We all need a rest.”
>
  The Earl looked at her uncle. “And you, sir. Will you join us?”

  Uncle Arthur smiled. “The sea holds no delight for me. I believe I’ll spend the day searching the Scriptures. Perhaps I can find something to silence that woman.”

  Aurelia laughed with the others. But it was not like Uncle Arthur to care what people said. As he often remarked, those who espoused new and startling ideas should always expect those ideas to be disregarded and themselves to be ridiculed. So why, then, was he letting Cousin Prudence have such an effect on him?

  Aurelia cast a quick glance at her cousin, gazing unabashedly at Phoebe. That must be it. Uncle Arthur was aware of Harold’s interest in Phoebe. And he wanted to bring her mama around.

  Aurelia sighed. Cousin Prudence was no easy nut to crack. As adamant as she was against any kind of air flight, it was difficult to see how her mind could ever be persuaded otherwise.

  They started out after breakfast the next morning. This time the Earl left the driving to a groom and took his place on the seat beside Aurelia. He flashed her a smile that made her knees go to trembling. She smiled in return and pulled the India shawl closer, thinking to herself that the Earl had been very generous to his cousin. Phoebe’s wardrobe contained many lovely gowns. At the moment, Aurelia was wearing a dove gray walking dress. And Phoebe was attired in one of pale green. Between the two of them they had not yet exhausted Phoebe’s supply of gowns and gloves, shawls and bonnets.

  Aurelia tugged at the bonnet she was wearing, a straw affair trimmed with yellow roses and threaded through with a lemon yellow scarf that tied, fetchingly so Phoebe said, under her chin.

  Though at first she’d been more comfortable in her old bombazine, now she was beginning to feel relaxed in these pretty things. And perhaps, as Phoebe kept insisting, pretty gowns would advance The Plan.

  The phaeton halted at the top of the cliffs. Aurelia drew in a deep breath. The fresh damp air carried the tang of salt. Before them the great expanse of water stretched as far as the eye could see. Sunlight gleamed on the crests of the waves and danced in the shimmering foam.