The Virtuous Feats of the Indomitable Miss Trafalgar and the Erudite Lady Boone

by Geonn Cannon

  “Can you swim?” Trafalgar asked.

  “Well enough to get back to shore.”

  Trafalgar said, “Are you certain?”

  Adeline closed her eyes. “I see myself wrapped in thick blankets and drinking something warm.”

  Trafalgar smiled. “Save a cup for me.”

  “Good luck.” The water was quickly rising on all sides, the submersible turning into a rapidly-shrinking island. Adeline let herself slip toward the inky black waters, then got her feet flat on the hull and threw herself forward. She dove far enough away from the ship so that she wasn’t dragged down by the undertow, and Trafalgar focused on getting the hatch open. She took a blade from the pocket of her coat, slipped it under the lip of the hatch, and broke the seal as the lake’s waters finally reached her position. She pushed the hatch up and jumped inside along with a torrent of water.

  Dorothy shouted something indecipherable from the front of the ship as Trafalgar tried not to drown, spluttering as she reached blindly for the hatch to pull it shut behind her. She cut off the flow of water and spun the handwheel. The water filled the cramped space of the submarine’s interior, sloshing against her knees. Dorothy had stood up and was lumbering toward her. Trafalgar reached for a weapon in her jacket pocket, but Dorothy was too quick for her. She shoved Trafalgar backward, stealing her balance, and grabbing the lapels of her coat before she could fall.

  “Are you completely mad?”

  “Said the woman stealing my ship!” Trafalgar slapped Dorothy’s arms away. When Dorothy fell back Trafalgar slumped against the wall and brought her foot up out of the water. She planted it against Dorothy’s chest and pushed. Dorothy grabbed Trafalgar’s ankle and pulled her into the fall as well, and both women splashed down into the water that swung back and forth through the cockpit as if it were attempting to create its own tides. Dorothy rose first, hair hanging in her face like seaweed, and watched as Trafalgar surfaced beside her.

  “You have no idea what you’ve risked!” Trafalgar barked. She swung wildly, a telegraphed attempt which Dorothy easily blocked. “What little we’ve seen of the ruins below are extremely delicate. For you to blunder through with a ship you can’t even hope to control... what did you hope to gain?”

  “Insight, information.” Dorothy wrapped her arm around Trafalgar’s and forced the other woman’s back against the wall. “There is power in information, and in the wrong hands that power can have unimaginable consequences.”

  “And when you find your answers, who will be on the receiving end? Whoever opened their pocketbooks to fund your latest expedition?” She threw her weight forward and Dorothy took a step back. The water shifted again and changed their weight just enough to make the submersible tilt underneath them. Dorothy and Trafalgar both stumbled, but this time only Dorothy sank under the water.

  Trafalgar pushed her out of the way and waded up to the cockpit. She didn’t bother trying to sit down, since the seat was already underwater, and she opened the ballast tanks. The console was drenched and covered with beads of water, the lower half engulfed, and she hoped the electronic components were well protected. It would take them ages to inspect everything and ensure it was safe for their descent.

  She heard Dorothy getting to her feet. “I would forestall any attack you might be planning. We’re close enough to the surface we may yet be able to rise again, but the damage may keep us at the bottom of the lake if we sink any deeper.”

  “The damage you caused by opening the hatch.”

  Trafalgar glared at her. “If I hadn’t opened the hatch, you would have been stranded at the bottom of this lake alone and slowly asphyxiating. We would have had no way to rescue you. By being here now, I am risking my own life to save yours. I don’t expect gratitude, but you could at the very least remain quiet and not attack me while I sort out this mess.”

  She heard water pouring off Dorothy, heard her catching her breath, but she refrained from attacking. Trafalgar emptied the ballast tanks, then opened the vents that would drain the contents of the passenger cabin so they wouldn’t be splashing around as the ship ascended. She looked out the bulb of glass in front of her and blew air past her lips. It was difficult to tell in the dark, but she definitely felt buoyant and was confident they were rising again.

  “If you hadn’t rushed to be the first one here, if you had done it properly, with a plan--”

  “This was planned?” Trafalgar said in shock. “I hate to see what would happen if you worked by the seat of your pants.”

  Dorothy said, “My hand was forced. I worked patiently back in London, I set up benefactors to fund an expedition, I arranged for surveys of the lake, all to make certain an excavation was done properly. Then I receive word that you have a team on the ground! I had to be impetuous to ensure you didn’t muck everything up.”

  “Excellent job at that, Lady Boone.”

  Dorothy sneered at her.

  “As it is,” Trafalgar continued, “our work has been delayed days. Perhaps weeks. If the submersible is damaged beyond repair we may not get another chance until next summer.”

  “The damage you cause by going off half-cocked...”

  Trafalgar said, “There is no guarantee we’ll have a chance next summer. This entire area could be...” She clamped her teeth together and closed her eyes.

  “Could be what?” Dorothy said.

  “The woman who was with me above. Her name is Adeline. She... sees things. Usually only a few minutes or even seconds in the future. Glimpses and clues to what is about to happen. But in the past year the noises have gotten louder. Bigger and darker. Something is coming, Lady Boone, something that will affect every person in every corner of the world. We must explore sites like this and preserve what we can while we still have time. We can’t waste precious weeks gathering funds and writing plans.”

  Dorothy said, “So we rush in blindly without a care to the locals we may upset or the dangers we risk by removing artifacts from the places where they have been held for centuries or millennia? We ‘waste time,’ as you call it, to ensure everything is done properly. Doing anything less results in...” She laughed ruefully and gestured at her waterlogged self. “In this!”

  The darkness through the glass lessened somewhat as they breached. “I shall remember that the next time we meet, Lady Boone. Perhaps I will be less inclined to save you on that date.”

  “The day I require your rescue...”

  “...is apparently this day,” Trafalgar said.

  Dorothy slumped against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. Trafalgar walked back to the hatch and climbed up to push it open. She hung from the ladder and turned back to look at Dorothy. She stepped down off the ladder and gestured for Dorothy to lead the way. “If you think I’m leaving you behind on this ship, you are sorely mistaken. After you, Lady Boone.”

  Dorothy gripped a rung of the ladder but paused before she began climbing. “Even if this darkness your companion saw does come to pass, this will definitely not be the last time we meet, Miss Trafalgar. Right now I am in your debt. Don’t expect that to affect my feelings on our next encounter.”

  “And just because I saved your life this time does not mean I intend to make it a habit.” She nodded up at the opening. “Out. Now.”

  Dorothy climbed out of the still-dripping submersible and, after taking a moment to inspect the damage, sighed and followed Dorothy out of the ship.

  #

  In the end the submersible was able to make the dive after an intense examination from its owner. Dorothy and her team were banned from the site and forced to return to London in defeat. Her benefactor was highly irate with news of the failure but his tempers calmed slightly when word came from Turkey that Trafalgar’s team had also come up empty-handed. Dorothy helped him see the silver lining, in that he had only paid for a brief trip rather than a long-term mission that proved fruitless. The other members of her team were less amenable. Several of them decided her rash actions indicated a capriciousness th
at they were unwilling to deal with. She was still able to find people to fund and accompany her on expeditions but she had to admit the process was much more difficult than it had once been.

  And as Trafalgar predicted, the following years were indeed dark for everyone, not just Dorothy. With the advent of the Great War, formerly generous beneficiaries were reluctant to fund any kind of international excursions. She disliked traveling alone but she rarely had a choice in the matter. Able-bodied men were shipping off to war, and those who remained home weren’t able to justify gallivanting off to dig for treasures in some distant land when the homefront was under fire.

  Dorothy occasionally received word that Trafalgar was spending more time abroad to keep away from the fighting and the air raids. Her expatriate status meant it was easier for her to travel, but she was cut off from her sources of information and the suppliers who made her missions possible. The women did still cross paths from time to time. They frequently only caught sight of each other from a distance, one leaving as the other arrived, but so far they had refrained from further fisticuffs.

  From the library of Ephesus, where Dorothy conspired to have Trafalgar evicted from her hotel in order to buy herself time to get the items she’d unearthed to the train station unmolested, to the Ellora Caves of India, where they agreed to a brief truce in deference to the site’s importance in the nonviolent religion of Jainism. The truce hadn’t extended to the train station where Trafalgar traded Dorothy’s bags with decoys and disappeared with the charcoal rubbings Dorothy had made of the various carvings. Generally they were both aware when the other was in London and found ways to avoid one another. Trafalgar tried to stay on the south side of the Thames while Dorothy remained in her own space on the northern shore.

  One evening en route to dinner with her male companion, Professor Desmond Tindall, they spotted Trafalgar and one of her cohorts standing on a street corner waiting to cross. He took note of her sour expression but waited until they passed her before commenting on it.

  “Surely there are ways you could avoid her entirely, or eliminate her from the playing field. You could buy her out, you could convince any bank-rollers to cease working with her...”

  Dorothy sneered. “That hardly seems fair.”

  “Fair? The woman drives you insane, Dorothy. She’s maddening.”

  “She keeps me on my toes. She forces me to think critically and often on the fly. And if, on occasion, she manages to outwit me, I use that as incentive to try harder the next time. Avoid her? Quite the contrary, my dear Des. What is a woman without an adversary?”

  He laughed and shook his head, and Dorothy looked out the window. Trafalgar was already gone, but Dorothy touched the brim of her hat in a subtle but sincere gesture of acknowledgement to her adversary.

  Chapter Four

  The same day Adeline met her tragic demise, Beatrice received the daily mail from the front stoop and brought it into the parlor. Dorothy was still recovering from her trip to Mexico, but she was awake and working in the library. She was dressed for the day in a lightweight blouse, open at the collar with the sleeves pinned above her elbows. The window was open and a gentle breeze lifted the hair from her neck as she bent over her latest map.

  She adored cartography; drawing the lines of the world as she saw them on her own journeys rather than relying on the eyes of others provided her with a much more accurate representation of where she had been should she ever need to go back. Her feet were crossed at the ankles under her chair as she drew the coastline as it was in her memory. She had entire books full of maps depicting places she had traveled. She drew them both as they were now and as they had been generations ago when their civilizations were thriving.

  Her tongue was poking between her lips as her head rocked one way and then the other so she didn’t have to move the paper. Beatrice took a moment to appreciate the view, the sunlight glinting through the red strands of Dorothy’s hair, before drawing attention to herself.

  “The mail is here.”

  “Ah, splendid.” She put the finishing touches on the harbor she’d been drawing and put her hands in the small of her back. She stretched and grimaced as her muscles protested the movement. “Anything worth noting?”

  Beatrice set each item down as she examined the return addresses. “Correspondence from the archaeology department in Connecticut. Hm. This is curious. Something from Miss Trafalgar.”

  That drew Dorothy’s attention. She looked at the book-shaped package wrapped in pale brown paper. “How very odd.” She pushed away from the slanted top of her desk and crossed the room to take it from her. “This is addressed to Dorothy Boone. Curious.”

  “What?”

  “Not once has she ever referred to me by my given name. To her, I am Lady Boone. Why wouldn’t she address the package that way? And why would she send me anything at all to begin with?”

  “Perhaps a taunt?” Beatrice said. “She may have an intriguing new lead, or gained a new wealthy benefactor.”

  Dorothy considered that but it didn’t seem plausible. They would taunt and mock one another but only if they happened to cross paths. She would never have gone out of her way to gloat about some piece of good fortune, and it seemed impossible Trafalgar would be petty enough to start. She tapped her thumbs on the edge of the package and pursed her lips.

  “An intriguing mystery.”

  “One that could be resolved by opening the package.”

  Dorothy raised an eyebrow. “Yes. But without knowing what it is... do you recall the story I told you about the sunken temples off the Comoros?”

  “Of course.”

  “The entryway was entirely clear of obstacle. A perfectly formed tunnel leading down into the main cavern. To one side, a handful of torches to light the way.”

  Beatrice nodded. “The torches were the trap. Whoever tried to pick one up triggered the release of poison darts.”

  “An innocent enough offering that obscured its true and deadly purpose.” She held the package up and looked across the face of it on a horizontal plane. She closed one eye and tried to see any discrepancy in the shape of it. “I would say a box. Slender, not capable of holding much.” She brushed her thumbs over the sides. “A hinge along the upper edge, meaning it opens length-wise rather than along the width. Lightweight enough...”

  Beatrice said, “There’s a way to know how dangerous it is without opening it.”

  Dorothy raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like utilizing that little trait.”

  “You’ve driven me to it with this incessant deducing. The suspense is driving me mad.”

  “Well then.” Dorothy put the package down and flourished toward it with her hand. “Be my guest, Trix.”

  Beatrice rubbed her left thumb in a wide circle against the pads of her first three fingers. She held her hand out, palm-flat, and closed her eyes. Dorothy crossed her arms and watched as the package began to tremble on the tabletop, then began to slowly spin counterclockwise. Something within the package clicked, and the shape of the paper changed as the lid tried to flip open. Beatrice spread her fingers wider, a wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows as she focused. A concentrated burst of magical energy could disrupt simple mechanisms, the sort of mechanisms which would have to be used if such a small package was indeed intended as a trap.

  The room filled with a slow, clanking melody. “A music box,” Dorothy said. “Oh, that is a shame.” She furrowed her brow as she recognized the song. “A funeral dirge? That’s hardly--” With sudden realization she threw an arm across Beatrice’s torso and pulled her back. They fell to the floor as the box detonated, sending shards and splinters through the spot where they had just been standing.

  Dorothy pushed herself up and touched Beatrice’s face. “Are you all right, darling?”

  “My head hurts.”

  Dorothy tenderly touched her hair. “From the fall?”

  “From using magic. It was my idea, don’t fret.” She kissed the heel of Dorothy’s hand. “You?�
��

  “I rapped my elbow on the floor when I fell. Hardly the worst injury I’ve ever suffered.” She sat up and offered Beatrice her hand, hauling her back to her feet. The room reeked of cordite and charred wood, the paper from the packaging smoldered on the table where it had dropped after Beatrice broke her concentration. Dorothy cupped the back of Beatrice’s head and gently massaged her scalp as she considered the wreckage of the bomb. It had been small enough, as bombs go, with highly localized damage, but if it had exploded in her hands...

  “What are you thinking?” Beatrice asked.

  “I still find it difficult to believe Trafalgar sent the package. It’s not her style. Still, I believe this mystery may require an audience with her. Prepare the car. We’re going to Bankside.”

  #

  Dorothy changed into a proper visiting outfit and tucked her hair up under a bowler hat. Beatrice tended to be more casual around the house, so she put on her uniform jacket, cap, and gloves, and brought the car around. She settled in the backseat with the ruins of the music box, rubbing the paper between her fingers as it crumbled to ash. She brushed the soot from her slacks and pursed her lips as she considered the possible suspects. There was no shortage of men who found it untenable that a woman would vie for a position in their field. But resorting to attempted murder was beyond the pale. And attempting to frame Trafalgar was curious to say the least.

  They drove south to the bridge and sighted the Thames just as an oncoming vehicle veered into their lane of traffic. Beatrice cursed as she swerved to avoid the other vehicle, which passed close enough that Dorothy could look into the backseat to see Trafalgar staring back at her. Beatrice saw her as well.

  “She just tried running us off the road,” she said. “Still think she’s innocent?”

  “Perhaps less so, in light of the new evidence,” Dorothy admitted.

  “Her car is coming around.”

  Dorothy took off her hat and tossed it into the seat beside her. “Stop the car. If she intends to hash this out in the street, I’ll be more than happy to oblige her.” She removed a pearl-handled revolver from beneath the seat and tucked it under her belt. She also unsheathed her dirk, though she had no intention of stabbing anyone with it at the moment. Plans could change in an instant, however, and she very much preferred to have it available and never use it than the alternative.