A Heart in Flight

by Nina Coombs Pykare

“Marvelous,” he agreed.

  The view was marvelous—he had never considered what his estate would look like from above. But actually he was far more interested in the glowing face and sparkling eyes of the woman beside him.

  She wet a finger and raised it to test the wind. He felt a sudden constriction in his chest and restrained an urge to catch hold of some part of her person. No need to be ninnyheaded about this. She was not going to fall out of this balloon as she had fallen out of the oak. Still, one never knew. He moved a little closer.

  They stood in companionable silence while the balloon rose slowly higher. He tried to keep his eyes on the countryside, but she was a far more fetching sight—flushed and excited, her bonnet perched precariously on her yellow curls.

  And when she turned to ask him something and her arm brushed his, he found he could not help himself. He reached out to steady her, and the next instant he was holding her in his arms.

  He was a man. And he did what any man would do. He kissed her.

  Her lips were soft, pliant, and her body fit perfectly against his own. A heady sensation came over him. For one wild moment he felt he might be capable of flying without the aid of the balloon.

  But he made himself put her from him. Another few seconds and he would be irretrievably lost. There were still questions to be settled. And there was such a thing as propriety.

  She looked up at him, those great dark eyes full of anxiety. “Milord, I ...”

  He was hard put not to kiss her again, to tell her he ...

  But common sense restrained him. “Isn’t that the tradition?” he inquired, giving her his most charming smile.

  She looked confused. “Tradition? What tradition?”

  “That on a balloon flight a man should be kissed.”

  “I ...”

  The little innocent really couldn’t tell he was teasing her. He’d forgotten she wasn’t used to the ton’s ways. “I’m bamming you again,” he explained. “Though I think it would be a nice tradition? Don’t you?”

  Aurelia, trying to contend with her pounding heart and a strange feeling of lassitude that made her want to sink into his arms, managed to smile. “Yes, milord, I suppose so. But since there aren’t many female aeronauts, it might be a little difficult to achieve.”

  He shrugged. How, Aurelia wondered, did the tailor get his coat to fit so precisely? It was hardly the time to be thinking of coats and tailors. But how could she think of that kiss? Of being held in his arms?

  If she let her thoughts go in that direction, she would move right back into his arms. And Lady Incognita’s heroines never behaved like that. Not before the heroes had declared themselves.

  So she remained where she was and contented herself with watching him look out at the scenery while she considered whether or not Phoebe should be apprised of this new development in the progress of The Plan.

  * * * *

  Phoebe tossed her head. She’d been eyeing Aurelia strangely since their return from the meadow.

  “Something has happened,” Phoebe exclaimed. “I can see it in your face.”

  Aurelia felt herself coloring. Why must she give herself away? Why couldn’t she just appear unconcerned?

  “The Plan,” Phoebe said. “You did something to advance The Plan.”

  Aurelia shook her head. “I did not do anything.” Honesty—and friendship—compelled her to go on. “But ... but something did happen.”

  “I knew it!” Phoebe rummaged in the desk drawer for the copy of The Dark Stranger. “Oh, do tell me.”

  “He ... he kissed me.”

  “Kissed you?” Phoebe clasped the book to her breast and twirled round the room. “Wonderful! Marvelous!” She gazed raptly at Aurelia. “It was wonderful, wasn’t it?”

  Aurelia nodded. “Oh yes. I ... I cannot say how wonderful.”

  Phoebe pulled out the desk chair and opened the ink bottle. “At last something to record!”

  “Phoebe ...”

  “Oh, do not look at me like that. I’m using a code. See . . . E equals embrace. K equals kiss.” She turned a smiling face to her friend. “And M equals matrimony.”

  Aurelia tried to be sensible. “We must not hope too much.” She said the sobering words, but she could not feel them. Her heart wanted to sing and her lips to smile. There was only the rather abrupt way he had put her from him to mar the joy of the afternoon. That, and the fact that there had been just the one kiss.

  Patience, she counseled herself and turned to Phoebe. “Shall we ...”

  But Phoebe was obviously off in a daydream. Her eyes were cloudy with emotion and her lips pursed in a strange smile. Suddenly she threw down the quill. “Aurelia, we must do something.”

  Startled, Aurelia replied, “Do something? About what?”

  “About me. And your cousin.”

  Phoebe jumped up from the desk and began to pace the carpet.

  “I thought things were going well with you,” Aurelia said. “You did not come to words today?”

  Phoebe laughed, a trifle shrilly. “Words? With Harold? Of course not.” She stopped her pacing for a moment. “It’s just that he’s so abominably slow.”

  Aurelia smiled. “I’m afraid he would not appreciate being called slow.”

  “Oh, not about most things.” Phoebe glanced down at Lady Incognita’s book, then up at her friend. “Only about me.”

  “But in such a short time ...”

  “I know, I know.”

  If Phoebe hadn’t looked so desperate, Aurelia might have laughed. As it was, she understood her friend’s distress. “Please,” she said. “Give Harold some more time. He is very shy.”

  Phoebe’s eyes lit on the book. “That’s it!” she cried. “I need A Plan.”

  “But Phoebe, I’m not even sure The Plan is working.”

  “He kissed you, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, but ...”

  “Well, then it’s working. Now, how can I be rescued? You said Harold doesn’t ride, so horses are definitely out. I can’t climb trees, so sliding into his arms is out.”

  She plopped onto the velvet chaise and stared at the ceiling. “A villain, a villain. My kingdom for a villain.”

  Aurelia burst into laughter. “Oh, Phoebe, I am sorry. But you are so ... so dramatic. And surely Mr. Shakespeare would not appreciate your taking such liberties with his words.”

  Phoebe smiled. “He would understand, I’m sure. But where can I uncover a villain?”

  “My dear, please be reasonable. This is 1819. We are no longer at war. We have no French spies. No smugglers. No pirates.”

  “No pirates,” Phoebe repeated, looking thoughtful. “No pirates.” She sat up. “That’s it! The Pirates’ Cave.”

  “What about it?”

  “Harold shall rescue me.”

  Aurelia frowned. All the excitement—or perhaps Ranfield’s kiss—had dulled her wits. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. How can you need to be rescued from the cave?”

  “Because I shall be trapped there. By the rising tide.” Phoebe got to her feet and began to prance around the room. “It will work. I know it will work. I shall be Mrs. Harold Amesley.”

  “The cave is dreadfully damp,” Aurelia pointed out.

  Phoebe shrugged. “I shan’t be there long. Only long enough to be rescued. It’s delightfully scary, you know. So I shall be suitably frightened. And cast myself into his

  arms.”

  “Yes.” said Aurelia thoughtfully. With Phoebe in his arms, Harold might well be brought to the question.

  “But how shall we arrange it?”

  Chapter Twelve

  It took a full week. Work on the balloons was going on apace, and it was difficult to get away. But late the next Wednesday, the young women left for a walk.

  They reached the seashore in good time and made their way down to the cave. Phoebe squinted at the sun. “We shall wait until the tide comes in more. Then you can start back.”

  “We should wait longer,” Aur
elia pointed out. “Till you are really trapped. Otherwise Ranfield might find us out.”

  Phoebe nodded. “You’re right, of course. Well, while we are waiting, let us enjoy the sea.”

  They took off their half boots and stockings and frolicked at the water’s edge. Then, tired from the long walk and unexpected play, they sank down on the sand. It was soft and warm. Aurelia’s eyes drifted shut.

  She was awakened by someone shaking her. “Hurry,” Phoebe urged. “We fell asleep.”

  Still half-groggy, Aurelia struggled to her feet and splashed after Phoebe into the cave’s mouth.

  Phoebe led the way around the bend into the cave’s dark recesses. “We were exploring,” she said, reviewing the story they meant to tell. “First we stopped here, then there.”

  Aurelia tried to clear her head of the fog of sleep. The change from warm sunshine to cool dimness set her to shivering, but her thoughts were still hazy.

  Finally, she roused herself to ask, “Must we go so far?”

  “I suppose not,” Phoebe said. “But our plan was to say that I turned my ankle and you could not bring me out.”

  “Yes.” Aurelia tried to stop shivering. “I know The Plan. But Phoebe, are you sure ...? It’s extremely damp in here. I shouldn’t want you to take sick.”

  Phoebe chuckled. “I shall not take sick, I assure you. And once I cast myself into Harold’s arms ...”

  Aurelia turned. “Then I suppose I had better start back.” The prospect of being in the sunshine again was comforting.

  Phoebe shivered. “I ... I’ll come with you. I can say I limped that far.”

  They hurried back around the bend to the entrance. “Oh no!” Aurelia stopped, her bare toes curling against the cold rock. Where the entrance should be there was only water.

  “It can’t be!” Phoebe’s wail echoed eerily through the cave. “The tide’s already come in.”

  A space of daylight showed above the water, but only a space. And it was getting even smaller. Aurelia tried to remember how far above their heads the rocks had been when they came in. But she could not.

  “Can you swim?” she asked.

  Phoebe shook her head. “Of course not. Can you?”

  Aurelia sighed. “No.”

  “What will we do?”

  “There’s nothing we can do.”

  “But ... but they don’t know where we are.”

  “We don’t have to be rescued, you know. We’ll just wait till morning and walk out.”

  “Au-re-li-a!”

  “Phoebe, dear. Theatrics are of no use now. There’s only you and I. So we must make the best of it.”

  “The best! I’m cold. I’m wet. I don’t want to be here.”

  Aurelia took a deep breath. She must not allow Phoebe to panic. She took her friend firmly by the shoulders. “Phoebe, listen. We can handle this. If we just keep our heads.”

  She stared into the other’s frightened eyes until Phoebe nodded. “Yes, yes. Tell me what to do.”

  Aurelia looked around, assessing the situation. They were not in mortal danger—a flaming balloon, now that was danger. But they probably were in for a most uncomfortable night.

  “First, we shall find a warm dry place.”

  “In here?”

  “Up there on the ledge. We’ll sit together.” Phoebe followed her and obediently settled beside her. “Now, we’ll tuck our feet under our gowns.”

  “Mine’s wet.”

  “I know. Mine, too. But they will dry.”

  Phoebe shivered. “It’s such a long time till morning.”

  “I know. But it will pass. And we have each other. We’ll tell stories. We’ll be fine.”

  They were not fine. As the daylight faded, the cave grew darker and colder. The drip of distant water took on ominous overtones, and the lapping of waves against the rocks below them turned sinister.

  Phoebe shivered against her. “I wish I had my India shawl. And I wish it were not so dark. And so co - old.”

  “I know, dear. I wish the same.”

  “Aurelia, talk to me. Tell me about ballooning. In the sun. Against the bright blue sky.”

  Phoebe sounded perilously close to tears, and Aurelia set her mind to making her friend feel better. But far too soon her supply of stories was exhausted.

  Darkness had come down in earnest. The thin sliver of light at the top of the entrance disappeared. The darkness surrounded them, a palpable heaviness.

  “Aurelia?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you suppose there’s any truth in them?”

  “In what?”

  “In the books we’ve been reading.”

  “Well, I suppose there could be.”

  “You mean … p-p-parts of dead men could be made to live?”

  Aurelia swallowed a laugh. Trust Phoebe to think of Mrs. Shelley’s book at a time like this. “Of course not, you goose. I thought you were talking about Lady Incognita’s work.”

  “Oh.” There was a long silence. Then, “What about ghosts?”

  “What about them?” Aurelia kept her voice firm. Phoebe was in no condition to appreciate her friend’s laughter.

  “Do you think ... they’re ... real?”

  She saw where Phoebe’s mind was headed. And she didn’t like it. “I’m not positive, of course. But I imagine most stories are just that—stories people have thought up to amuse themselves. Or frighten their friends.”

  “But the pirates’ story is true!”

  Aurelia reached for patience and found it in short supply. She, too, was cold, hungry, and tired. To say nothing of wet. The last thing she needed was to be thinking of ghosts and dead pirates.

  But Phoebe was her friend, so she scraped together a little more patience and said in a quiet tone, “Think now. The story has been around for many years. Ranfield said so.”

  Saying his name filled-her with yearning. If only he would come ... Not because she was frightened, but because she longed to see him. And she was beginning to worry about Phoebe. “What did you tell your mama before we left?”

  “Only that we were going for a walk. Why?”

  “I just wondered.” If they had mentioned their destination, there might have been some possibility of rescue. But, since no one knew where they had gone, that seemed highly unlikely.

  “Do you think ... they might find us?”

  Aurelia was torn between telling her friend the truth and keeping her spirits up. She decided for truth, uncomfortable as it was. “I don’t really think so, dear. But we shall be fine. Morning will come. The tide will go out. And we will laugh over this.”

  In the darkness Phoebe’s sigh sounded immense. “I don’t think I shall ever laugh again.”

  “Nonsense.” Aurelia forced her tone to briskness. Phoebe’s tendency to the dramatic could become contagious, and she had no intention of spending an entire night shivering in unnecessary terror.

  “I know,” she said. “Why don’t you sleep?”

  “Sleep! Oh, I should like to. But I am far too cold.”

  “Come,” said Aurelia. “Lean against me and try. It will make morning come quicker.”

  “Anything for that,” sighed Phoebe.

  With some twisting and turning, they got her curled against Aurelia’s side.

  “Now,” Aurelia instructed, “close your eyes and relax.”

  “I’m trying.”

  Aurelia willed herself to breathe slowly and calmly. Gradually the rhythm of Phoebe’s breathing slowed to match. And eventually Aurelia knew that her friend slept.

  Huddled there, her arm around Phoebe, Aurelia had to struggle to keep her eyes open. She was frightfully tired herself, but she should stay awake. Though for what reason, she could not say. They were not likely to fall off the ledge, and, in spite of Phoebe’s fears, there was nothing in the cave that might harm them. Slowly Aurelia’s eyes closed.

  The dream was patently a dream. She kept telling herself so while the cave grew lighter and lighter. Moonbeams gilde
d the surface of the dark water, and spirits, airy and ephemeral, fluttered from ripple to ripple, their laughter like the tinkling of tiny bells. She was about to wake Phoebe to see this wonder, when, from the surface of the shimmering sea, shot a giant hand.

  “No!” The cry was torn from her throat. Her eyes flew open.

  The cave was no longer dark. The moon had found a crack in the rocks above, and the cave’s interior shimmered in half-light.

  Phoebe stirred. “What is it?” she mumbled.

  Aurelia sighed. “I had a nightmare. I saw ...”

  Her words turned into a shriek. Right before her horrified gaze, rising up out of the dark water, came a human hand!

  It was followed closely by the rest of Ranfield’s body. He pulled himself up and stood, towering over them. Water ran down his bared chest, dripping off his inexpressibles, and fell past his bare feet to the floor of the ledge.

  Aurelia stared. Was this an apparition or reality? She had never before seen a man in such a state of undress. It so unsettled her mind that her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth.

  “So,” Ranfield said, and his voice rang like doom in the closed confines of the cave. “You are here.”

  She managed to make her tongue work a little. “Y ... yes.”

  “Are you injured?”

  “I ... no.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  Phoebe made a strange noise. “We fell asleep.”

  Ranfield stared. “In here?”

  Phoebe shook her head. “Oh no, in the sunshine outside. Then we came in to explore. And ... and ...”

  Aurelia finished the sentence. “And the tide trapped us.” She didn’t like that glowering look on his face.

  “You have frightened us all half to death.”

  “Harold!” Phoebe cried. “Where is Harold?”

  “He’s waiting outside. In the boat.” The Earl smiled darkly, and Aurelia shivered from quite another cause than the cold. “It seems he cannot swim.”

  “Oh,” whispered Phoebe.

  Aurelia couldn’t help it. The laughter came from deep within her. It rolled out, half choking her. Even if The Plan had gone right in the beginning, it would still have not succeeded. The boat could not get in. Harold could not swim.

  The laughter came and came. She tried to stop it. She wanted to stop it. But she was powerless.