The Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl

by Statham, Leigh

  She was calming down now. Marguerite had fished out a proper hankie for Vivienne’s nose and was rubbing her back methodically while the cogs of her mind turned.

  “Vivienne, you must not go back there.”

  “I don’t want to go back there. They do not love me, they never have.”

  “You must come with me.”

  “What?” Vivienne woke from her sad recounting then and stared at Marguerite with huge red eyes. It was like someone had flipped a switch in the girl and she was trying to decide which would be more terrifying: her father or New France with its savages and soldiers. “Oh, Marguerite … I don’t know … ” She shook her head slowly back and forth.

  “Of course you know. What other choice do you have?”

  “But, won’t they chase us? Our family names will be ruined!”

  “Nonsense. I did some research and the Daughters of the King program was established for nobles. In the beginning those were the only women who went—brave, well-bred women like us looking for something new and exciting!” Marguerite wondered if she wasn’t giving this little speech to further convince herself and not just Vivienne. Either way, it was working for both girls.

  “Well, I suppose you have a point. They could tell society that they chose to send us so that it’s not a scandal. We are both disappointments anyway I suppose.” Vivienne quickly added, “Oh! I did not mean to say you were a disappointment like I am. Your father adores you, I think he just had a hard time with you not marrying Delacourte.”

  “Do not worry, I know what you meant.”

  “Excuse me, ladies, but we must be off. There is only half an hour until your appointment, miss.” Outil had set down the luggage and was standing closer, protectively watching the trees while the girls spoke. “Might I also be so bold as to add that I do not think this plan is a good one? Your father will be devastated and the trip could be quite perilous.”

  Marguerite forgot that Outil had no idea where she’d been headed and hadn’t even asked while they prepared and slipped away that morning. She was still ready with a reply.

  “After being knocked about for months under the guise of schooling, then locked in the cellars and finding my friend beaten on the path in the middle of the night I’d say living here has been perilous enough. Come Vivienne … let’s go together.”

  “But what will I wear? I can’t possibly go anywhere dressed like this! And I haven’t any luggage of my own. None of my things. My new gloves! I knew I should have grabbed them.”

  Marguerite felt reassured hearing Vivienne chatter on like her old self about things that really didn’t matter.

  “Hurry, get something out of my trunk to put on and don’t worry about luggage. Captain Moreau assured me we wouldn’t need anything unless it was sentimental.”

  The two girls dug through the dresses and outfitted Vivienne as quickly as they could. As Outil helped Vivienne dress, the tiny girl winced in pain at certain movements. Marguerite guessed she’d had more than just a blow to the face. Still, her face was the obvious problem now.

  “I can’t do much about your hair and face right now, but once we get safely on the ship we will have plenty of time to make you up right.” Marguerite beamed at her friend who looked completely bedraggled and nervous. “Besides, it’s still dark, no one will see.”

  She switched off the cricket light and tucked it in her pocket.

  “What was that light you were holding anyway?” Vivienne followed close to Marguerite down the path now, Outil bringing up the rear.

  “A gift from Claude.” Marguerite smiled in the darkness. She was going to see him. She was really going to see him!

  Suddenly she realized she hadn’t thought once of how exactly she would find him once she got to New France. She had been told tales of its vast wilderness regions and coasts that seemed to go on for miles. She wouldn’t be very far behind him, two weeks or so, in arrival. Perhaps she could post a letter to let him know she was on her way. Then he could look for her as well. A great number of details sprang to her mind once she got on this train of thought and before Marguerite knew it they were coming into town.

  The harbor was alight with gas lamps while steam trucks made deliveries and picked up cargo from the fishing vessels made for the sea. The air was a mix of ocean mist, smoke, and the scent of metallic steam from all the motors spewing about. Five large aerships and two dirigibles were anchored sporadically between the seagoing ships like bees eager to sip nectar from the goods passing below. There was no reason for them to hover over water, they could dock anywhere they liked, but it was an old tradition and a convenient way of transporting goods from one type of ship to another. Marguerite pushed her way through the throngs of early morning dock workers, human and automatons, looking for Captain Moreau.

  Presently, she saw him on the dock below what appeared to be a rather grand aership. Its long, smooth body was shaped much like the seafaring ships below. It was obviously of the latest design, made of the finest wood. But the highly polished timbers were only visible in small sections at the stern and bow. A layer of patchwork leather—bonded, sealed, and able to withstand a cannon blast—was stretched across the entire body of the ship with portholes punctuating the upper levels like a lady’s beaded necklace. Marguerite had read about this new type of armory and stared at it in awe.

  Unlike the other aerships and old dirigibles whose balloons were oblong and attached directly to the main body, this ship was held aloft by a massive canvas orb that hovered fifteen feet or more above the wooden body, attached by four large chains and several ropes, leaving room for a proper deck, like the sailing ships of old. Around the central body of the balloon was what appeared to be a brass catwalk. Marguerite could make out tiny figures moving about on the perilous circle. Large ropes connected the top and sides of the balloon to the bow and stern where ornate lookout houses, streamlined and battle ready, perched precariously. At the very top of the entire affair was a weather vane with a large rooster, making the whole thing seem a bit whimsical, a giant work of art, really. Her heart rested a bit knowing the trip might at least be comfortable. If they’d spent so much time on the fine craftsmanship of the outside, the inside couldn’t be far behind.

  She brought her gaze back to the dock. A good-sized group of ladies stood around Captain Moreau as he scribbled on a stiff parchment, some escorted by what appeared to be their parents, some on their own, some rising in small cage-like elevators to the ship waiting above. As she approached with her small entourage, a few folk recognized her and the crowd split down the middle, a buzz passing from lip to ear.

  “Ah! Lady Vadnay! We thought you might have changed your mind.” Moreau motioned her to the front of the line and made marks on his paperwork as she waited to present Vivienne.

  He looked up and took in her companions. “Who have we here?”

  “This is Lady Vivienne Mousseau. She would like to accompany us as well.” Marguerite used her most aristocratic voice in hopes of avoiding any kind of scene, but it wasn’t necessary.

  “Very well, dear. You are of age, I presume?” Moreau seemed to be trying to put Vivienne at ease, but his question threw her completely off guard. She started to mumble something.

  “Yes, of course she is,” Marguerite answered for her before Vivienne could stutter her way out of the trip.

  Moreau looked from one girl to the other. He lingered on Vivienne’s bruised eye and mussed hair, clearly visible in the dock lights, and did not ask any more questions. “Well of course you are! Just sign here, please.” He pulled an autopen and parchment out of the bag at his feet and motioned for the girls to use his back as a table.

  Vivienne’s hand was slightly unsteady, but she scrawled her signature on the contract and handed it back with her head bent low to avoid the light.

  Murmurs were still passing from person to person behind them. It would only be a matter of time before someone ran back to their family estates and spread the word. Mar
guerite wished they would hurry. She checked the large town clock, it was just barely visible from where she stood: five minutes to departure.

  “Is this all of your luggage?” Moreau eyed the heavily laden bot.

  “Yes, this is all for both of us. You said not to bring much.”

  “Yes. I’m not sure what the regulations are for bringing a bot, however.”

  “Oh.” Marguerite looked back at Outil. “The bot is not coming.”

  “Excuse me, miss, but my orders are to go wherever you go.”

  Marguerite imagined she heard the slightest bit of defiance in Outil’s voice.

  “I can check the documents but it will have to wait a while. I need to register the rest of these young ladies.”

  “That sounds fine to me.” Marguerite was feeling anxious. She just wanted to get on the aership and be on their way. She kept feeling that something was not quite right.

  “Right then. Proceed to the levitation platform and the steward will see you to your quarters.” Moreau pointed them to one of several square wooden platforms surrounded by bars—the caged elevators. A large chain attached to the top of the box rose to meet the aership above. It was just big enough for the three companions and their luggage if the girls sat on the trunk. Two men helped them in and secured the gate before tugging a rope and motioning for the lift to be hauled to the ship.

  It jerked to a start then began to glide easily to its floating destination. As they climbed higher, Marguerite could see the crowd clearly. Some were embracing each other, some were still staring at the girls and their bot, some were staring out to sea, pondering what was in store, no doubt. Quite unexpectedly, a familiar face came into focus: Madame Pomphart!

  “No!” Marguerite said. “I knew it … ” That must have been who was following them in the house. Why had she waited so long to catch them? What was she doing?

  “What is it?”

  “It’s nothing.” She didn’t want to worry Vivienne any more than she had to.

  Pomphart had made her way to Moreau and pointed at the levitating cage while her jaw moved faster than lightning. Marguerite was both annoyed and relieved not to be able to hear the woman’s voice. Captain Moreau looked up at the girls and back at Madame Pomphart, who seemed to have a redness creeping up her neck and onto her face as she continued to gesture wildly. Marguerite held her breath as she watched Moreau shrug his shoulders and dig into his pile of papers, eventually pulling one out and showing it to Pomphart.

  Can’t this lift move any faster? Marguerite thought, as she looked up to see how much farther to the deck. Only a few more minutes it seemed. She looked back to see Pomphart scowling at the rich parchment. Marguerite could only guess it was the contract she had signed. The old hag looked up and pointed to something on the paper, more calmly now, but still clearly agitated. What was she up to? Marguerite did not want to imagine what her father would say if she were dragged home right now. She could never face him.

  “Up, up, up,” she murmured again.

  “Is that Madame Pomphart?” Vivienne’s voice cracked with fear. She had just spotted the evil governess.

  “I’m afraid it is. But we have nothing to worry about. We’re almost to the deck.” Marguerite felt Vivienne take her hand and squeeze it tightly behind their skirts. She was beginning to understand the kind of anxiety the girl must live with on a daily basis.

  At long last the deck of the aership came into view behind them at the same time Captain Moreau gently took the contract back from Madame Pomphart’s hands and shrugged his shoulders again. They were free.

  Pomphart glared heavily at Marguerite. There was no mask to her dislike now and it struck Marguerite how venomous the woman looked. There was no doubt left in her mind that Pomphart was the kind of woman who would have left her in that cellar to die. A chill ran up her spine as her view of the docks and the hateful woman was lost to the sides of the ship.

  The cage set down heavily on the deck. The girls rose as the stewards popped open the door and offered their hands as support while the girls stepped down. Marguerite drew in a deep breath and exhaled luxuriously. Adrenaline still coursed freely through her veins from the last hour’s events. She looked out over La Rochelle as the sun began to rise. Golden beams streamed forward, touching every tree, rock, and home. The large clock chimed the hour and her heart raced. She was leaving. Not for a holiday, not for a sightseeing or shopping excursion, she was leaving, quite possibly, forever. She didn’t want to forget one speck of this beautiful place, but she couldn’t wait to embrace what lay ahead either.

  She turned to Vivienne who looked positively terrified. “We’ve done it! We’re here!”

  “This way, ladies, I’ll show you to your cabin.” A steward with an autopen and large paper was making notes as he spoke to them. “I’m sorry we won’t be able to provide you with your own rooms. We are full to capacity on this voyage.”

  Marguerite grinned from ear to ear and put her arm around Vivienne. “It’s going to be just fine. You wait and see.”

  Vivienne winced with pain. Marguerite loosened her grasp. She’d forgotten about her other injuries.

  Not wanting to think about it, Marguerite took one last look at the town and then turned to follow the steward, pulling Vivienne along with her, Outil close behind with their things. Soon she wouldn’t have to think about any of it again. This would all be behind them in a matter of hours.

  Ahead she could see nothing but bright blue waters touching an endless sky of the same hue, both streaked with the first light of morning. It was as if the sun were pushing them away, bidding them adieu, paving a golden road for them to fly away on.

  “Everything is going to be spectacular!” This time she said it just for Vivienne. She didn’t have to convince herself anymore.

  Chapter Eleven

  The aership was even lovelier inside than she had guessed. It was, indeed, a brand new model from the best ship-works in Germany. Marguerite marveled at the highly polished wood, rich floral wallpapers, and brass fittings. It wasn’t much different from her own home, which helped her relax a bit.

  They passed other crew members and bots on their way down the large passages. All about them was an air of excitement and purpose. Many of them gawked at Vivienne’s injuries, but Marguerite gave each one who did a very stern glance, turning them quickly back to their own business. The steward leading them didn’t pause for more than a second upon seeing Vivienne’s face. He simply led them to their quarters and pointed out a few features and different highlights of the ship: telegraph stations, the dining hall, and the ladies’ washrooms.

  “Do we not have a private washroom in our quarters?” Vivienne finally spoke.

  “No, ma’am, sorry. The suites do come with their own small water closet, but not a full bathing center.”

  Vivienne’s eyes grew wide again. Marguerite wondered if they would ever shrink back to normal size after today.

  Eventually they reached their cabin. It was a series of two rooms with a porthole in each one that looked out on the open sea and sky. The first room had comfortable seating for a small party and the back room was furnished with two modest beds and dressers for their things. All the furnishings were of excellent quality, but it certainly wasn’t the type of space either girl was accustomed to. Marguerite tried to be positive. “How cozy!”

  A large mirror hung on one wall of the sitting room. Vivienne caught a glimpse of herself in it and gasped, touching the deep purple blotch on her cheek. She sank into the nearest settee and wept. The steward at the threshold purposefully looked away from the crying girl as he stuttered about a required meeting.

  Marguerite quickly crossed to the door, closing it halfway to block Vivienne from his view, and assured him all was well.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He seemed relieved at her interruption. “As I was saying, there is an all-hands meeting as soon as the ship has set sail. You will be notified by the communication system.” He point
ed to a grate on the ceiling. “I did not want it to alarm you.”

  “Thank you.” Marguerite gently closed the door as the man bowed quickly and left.

  “There, there.” She turned back to the small figure sobbing on the couch. “It’s not that bad. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.” Marguerite pulled off her gloves. She felt like she should rub Vivienne’s back or comfort her in some physical way, but she was at a loss as to how that should be accomplished. Plus, she didn’t want to hurt her further, so she merely patted her shoulder a bit and felt awkward.

  Outil emerged from the bedroom. Marguerite forgot the bot was even with them and flinched when she saw the movement.

  “Excuse me, miss.” Outil took a step back. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. Your belongings have been distributed to the wardrobe and dresser. I know you indicated you would not need my assistance further on this journey, but I would highly recommend you reconsider that decision.” The bot almost pleaded, “I am designed to serve and protect those of the estate, but specifically, you. Please forgive my boldness.”

  “Yes, right.” Marguerite looked thoughtful. “Captain Moreau was looking up the regulations on that. I feel bad enough as it is dragging you this far into the whole mess and deceiving my father. I’d hate to be accused of stealing an estate bot while I’m busy with all this lying and sneaking around. Besides, I have Vivienne to keep me company and this place is crawling with stewards and servants.”

  She resumed gingerly patting Vivienne’s still hunched shoulders and smiled at Outil, her heart secretly torn between complete independence and losing this automaton she had come to rely on heavily. Still, she didn’t want to push any of the rules and risk being thrown off the ship.

  Outil looked at Vivienne sobbing on the couch; her shining brass facial features actually changed to a quizzical expression. She didn’t have to say aloud that Vivienne was hardly in any state to be a comfort or help to anyone.