Daneska emerged from the house, looking relaxed and elegant. She smiled pleasantly and greeted me as if we were friends. “How very gracious of you to stop by, Miss Fitzwilliam. I trust you brought your recipe?”
I held up the folded paper. “First, I must see that Lord Wyatt is well.”
“But, of course.” She motioned for me to come closer and peer into the courtyard.
A guard shoved Sebastian out of the side door. He staggered forward, his hands tied behind him like a man bound for the gallows. Captain Grey sucked in a ragged breath. A scream caught in my throat. My stomach reeled.
Sebastian’s eyes. His beautiful eyes. Beaten until they were only dark slits in bulging scarlet welts. And his lips …
“No, no, no,” I choked.
Unbidden, I felt them on mine. But now they were bruised, split, and swollen, seeping blood down his chin. His cheeks. The fine smooth skin was now a mass of red and purple lumps. I couldn’t breathe. Had I not caught the Captain’s arm, my knees would’ve buckled.
Sebastian wore the same torn shirt he’d had on in London, covered in dried blood, gaping open to the cold. They hadn’t tended the raw angry cut on his chest. To the contrary, as he stumbled closer I saw fresh lash marks crisscrossed it.
Bile scorched furiously up my throat. I heaved in a bitter gagging breath. Unable to stop myself, I gasped, “Sebastian!”
He blinked, as if the dying afternoon sun was too bright, and tilted his head, straining to see who had uttered his name. He lurched forward the minute he recognized me. “No! Georgie, don’t—”
The guard struck the back of Sebastian’s head with the butt of his rifle. I shrieked, as he collapsed facedown on the grass.
He lay there, not moving, his hair a mass of dark curls, matted with his blood. I ached to run to him, to smooth them back, to hold his head on my lap and beg his forgiveness. Dear God in heaven, he would not be here if I hadn’t blundered.
I grabbed the bars of the gate. “What have you done to him?”
“I?” Her hand fluttered to her décolletage. “I have done nothing.”
The guard roused Sebastian. Yanking him up by the arm, he hauled him back into the house. I didn’t even realize I was crying until Daneska clucked her tongue. “Dry your tears, mon cher. He knew the risks of this business. The recipe, s’il vous plaît.”
I could not stop tears from running down my cheeks. But now, they burned with anger. “You will release him.”
“Not until after I test the recipe.”
“How long?” I held the formula back. “When will you let him go?”
“Soon.” She shrugged. “These things take time. I must find a chemist. We are very busy at the moment. We have important guests to attend to, and the Lord Mayor has invited all of the nobility to welcome the Bourbon King back to France.” She cocked her chin, making much of the fact that she was nobility and I was not.
“Yes, yes, you are a countess, so you must attend the royal affair. I don’t care about any of that. When will you let him go?” I demanded, slapping the formula against the bars of the gate and withdrawing it.
“I make no promises.” She stepped back, arms crossed. “You have seen he is alive. If you want him to remain so, you will give me the recipe. Choose.”
As if I had a choice. It was a lie. Like everything else about her. The immaculate deception. I had no choice. None. Lady Daneska held all the cards. I was merely a beggar in her world. So, I slid the paper to her and begged, “Please, Daneska.”
She snatched her prize and walked away without a word.
I began to tremble. Captain Grey took me by the shoulders and urged me away from the gate. We had walked to the end of the street before I could speak without quivering to pieces. “She’ll never let him go.”
“We knew that,” he said, still supporting my shoulders. “Which is why you must get him out tomorrow.”
I do not recall walking the half mile back to the Blue Lion. Numb. I felt numb.
I could scarcely even feel my own feet. If I allowed myself to feel, if I reflected at all upon the bleakness of our situation, or the agony Sebastian must be suffering, I would crumble.
This cold mechanical determination was the only way I could attend to the work that needed doing that night. I worked with such steely focus I may as well have been made of iron fittings and steel gears. One goal throbbed in my consciousness. Get Sebastian out.
After we finished building the wings, Jane and I practiced assembling and disassembling them. The parts had to be compact enough that we could bring them into the lighthouse hidden under our cloaks, and yet easy enough to take apart quickly and hide after we landed. Miss Stranje timed us. “Faster,” she ordered, until we had the disassembly down to under a minute. “Better. Now do it again.”
We discussed every detail of the plan. Jane and I would be disguised as housemaids. Miss Stranje made us practice how to behave like a proper servant, and what to say if we were noticed in the hallway. Tess would dress seductively in order to distract the guards, if needed, as we flew into the courtyard. We needed to lure the soldier guarding the watchtower to the other side of the building so that he would not notice when a gigantic bird took off from the observation balcony. Miss Stranje insisted she must be the one to do this job. “I couldn’t possibly send one of you girls to do that sort of job. It would be highly inappropriate. You are far too young and innocent for such things.”
The captain turned sharp at that, broke off his hushed discussion with Mr. Digby and two other men, and marched across the room to our table. “A word, Miss Stranje. If you please.”
They retired to a dark corner and engaged in a heated discussion. “Very well,” she huffed at the end of it. “I’ll use a sleeping potion. But we are running decidedly low on the stuff. Not only that, but now I must stop in at a bake shop to find something suitable to put it in.”
“Eminently preferable to the alternative.”
She sniffed. “I do hope you appreciate that at this rate, my girls and I will be putting half of Calais to sleep.” She returned to us looking miffed, but the corner of her mouth twitched as if she was secretly pleased.
We continued planning. Every detail considered, reconsidered, laid out, and practiced until I thought I would go mad.
Jane insisted on teaching me how to pick a lock. “In case something should happen to me. One never knows.”
I thought I was past feeling until that moment. Remembering that Jane, too, would be in danger because of me made the lump in my chest grow even heavier. My fingers turned stiff and clumsy. One of her tools clattered to the floor.
It turns out picking a lock is more of an art, than a simple mechanical process. When I failed yet again, Jane sighed. “I don’t understand it. The inn’s locks are fairly simple. At Stranje House we practice with dozens of more complex locks.”
If I could have taken the lock apart and seen the mechanism, I might’ve had more success. But it was late, and I hung by a frayed thread. I handed back her tools. “Perhaps I will learn there. For now, you must simply promise to not let anything happen to you.”
Miss Stranje pulled me aside and handed me a small vial of laudanum. “You may need this if he is in too injured to move without his crying out. Give him a few drops.”
She also showed us how to wrap a strap under his arms so we could lower him by rope. It would not be comfortable.
On my way to bed I stopped in the hallway and stared at the bottle in my hand. Suddenly I was unable to escape thinking of his pain. I remembered his poor bruised eyes. His beaten cheeks. His lips swollen, and split … I sagged against the wall and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to banish the image. I must focus on only one thought. Get him out.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I kept going over our plan in my head. Something niggled at me.
Distractions.
We had planned how to divert the guard’s attention at the lighthouse, and a diversion for when Jane and I landed. Indeed, we had a misdirectio
n prepared for every aspect of our mission to get in the villa. But what if we needed a distraction once we got inside the stronghold? I worried it wouldn’t be enough to simply pretend we were innocent housemaids.
In the early hours before dawn, an idea roused me to action. I slipped out of bed, dressed, and went down to our private parlor to work.
Captain Grey stood at the window, staring at the gloom, waiting for the sun to breech the horizon.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked.
He put a brave face on it. “Wanted an early start,” he said, still staring at the eastern sky.
“I wonder if I might borrow an ounce or two of your black powder?”
Without a question, he reached into his kit and handed me his powder horn. I emptied a small measure of it into my handkerchief, knotted it securely, and returned the horn to him.
“I don’t want to know what that is for, Miss Fitzwilliam.” He swallowed hard. “I raised him, you know. Since he was a lad.”
I’d guessed as much, but kept silent. There was nothing I could say that would help.
“War will most certainly break out if they murder the king. If it were not for that, I…” He pressed his lips tight and fixed his gaze on the horizon. “I have a sworn duty to uphold today. But all my own hopes ride with you. I must confess, I cannot even think of it without my innards turning to stone.”
I will get him out or die trying. But I did not say that. Little comfort in those words. Especially coming from me. My failure brought us here.
I stared at the pink beginning to edge up over the rooftops. “I will bring him home to you, sir.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and gulped back whatever was choking him. In barely a whisper, he rasped, “I pray God you are right.”
“Sun’s rising. I must go.” He handed me a slender metal flask. “I know him. He won’t take the laudanum. Give him this to help take the edge off the pain.”
I took it and tucked it in my pocket beside the gunpowder.
Later that morning the Blue Lion servants were astonished when I entered their kitchen. Although my French leaves much to be desired, I somehow managed to convey to them the size bottle I needed—small enough to fit neatly in my pocket, but large enough to hold a cup of oil.
For a tuppence, which I had obtained from Miss Stranje, I came away with a small wide-necked bottle filled with lamp oil, half of a candle, and the loan of a wax melting pot. The servants winked at one another, pleased at having duped me. Considering these items might save my life, and that of Jane and Sebastian, I would’ve paid a great deal more.
It took a good part of the morning to cook up my distraction. I stirred wax over the fire and dipped my little cloth bag of gunpowder, coating it over and over, until I was certain it was waterproof. This was no small feat considering I could not have the packet anywhere near the fire lest it explode.
Miss Stranje returned from the pastry shop and proceeded to do some rather creative cooking herself. She made a mixture of cream, honey, and laudanum, and drizzled it over an otherwise innocent-looking slice of black currant spice cake. She wrapped this delectable treat and placed it in a small basket to take to the soldier guarding the lighthouse.
We worked in companionable silence until Sera burst into the room. “It’s done.”
Tess came in behind her, grinning and excited. “You should’ve seen us. Sera was brilliant. She snatched a salted herring from Maya’s basket and held the fish up by its tail. Oh, my gracious! Where did you find such a beautiful herring, mademoiselle?” She imitated Sera in a squeaky high voice that I doubted Sera would have used. “The cook was livid. Put zat fish down. Go away! Shoo! Off with you.”
Tess laughed. “I didn’t think Sera had it in her. She kept hold of that smelly fish, and ever so innocently said, is this your fish? My apologies, madam. I will put it down immediately. Of course the cook couldn’t look anywhere except at that herring swinging by its tail. Meanwhile, I slipped the instructions and sleeping draught into Maya’s pocket without the cook even noticing.”
I couldn’t join in their merriment, my heart still thumped slow and heavy from this morning’s encounter with the captain. I had no time for mirth. No room for levity. I’d made a solemn vow. I will bring him home to you, sir.
Neither did Jane. She sat in the window seat, gazing out at the world as if it was her last day on earth.
“What’s wrong, Jane?” Sera went and sat beside her. “You look worried.”
“No. Of course not. I’m fine.”
Even I could see the anxiety she was hiding beneath that too cheery smile. “You needn’t go, Jane.” I tried to sound commanding. “I can pick the locks myself.” Given my lack of success last night I wasn’t certain, but putting her in danger added to the weight that was already pressing my bones to the very center of the earth.
“Nonsense. This is what we’ve trained for. I’m the best at locks. And you…” Here she paused and bolstered her shoulders. “You know what you are doing with this flying thing, and…” She waved at my project on the table.
Sera took a closer look at the components. “What are you doing?”
I didn’t want to explain, but it is hard for me to deny a direct question. “Have you ever heard of Greek fire?”
She shook her head.
“Surely, you’ve heard of grenadiers?”
“Yes. Elite French troops. Big strong soldiers who bravely tossed bombs by hand.” She left Jane and drifted near, watching me dip the wad of gunpowder.
“Not bombs, exactly.” I said, twisting the top of the bag into a narrow fuse and threading it through the cork. “They called them grenades.”
Miss Stranje buckled the lid on her basket. “You do realize the grenadiers were horribly unsuccessful? Napoleon reassigned the men who survived elsewhere.”
“Yes, but Greek fire is not just a glass jug filled with gunpowder like the grenades the French had. This is fire in a bottle.” I held up the elegant little flask filled with thick oil.
Sera took a deep breath. Her eyes widened.
“In case we need another distraction,” I explained.
The joy drained from Tess’s face. “Fire,” she murmured, and stared at the bottle on the table as if in a trance. “Perhaps I should teach you how to throw a knife instead.”
“Do you think you’d have any better luck than Jane did trying to teach me to pick a lock?”
She grimaced.
“Exactly. This is something I can do. Apparently, I am quite deadly with fire.”
They stared at me. Grim. All four of them wincing as if I’d just walked over their graves.
And why shouldn’t they? After all, it was fire, and I had a rather blackened reputation with the stuff. “I didn’t mean deadly for us.” I set the bottle on the table and shrugged. “We may not need to use it.”
Miss Stranje exhaled. “Let us hope not.”
Twenty-four
FLY OR DIE TRYING
At the lighthouse, we stood back and watched as Miss Stranje bribed the guard to let us watch the festivities from the observation platform. He took her shilling and obliged. She presented him with the spice cake as a further token of her gratitude, and suggested the two of them watch the king’s ship come in to port together. He eagerly accompanied her to the side of the tower where he could keep an eye on the door and still watch the harbor with her.
I wished Tess was with us, but she had already gone with a small cart and taken up her position in an alleyway across from the stronghold. Sera, Jane, and I climbed to the watchtower gallery deck with our equipment and assembled the wings. From our vantage point, it seemed as if the entire town had gathered at the royal docks south of us. At that great height, the crowd looked like a swarm of dark lumps, hats and bonnets rippling and shifting like a hive of bees. Once we had the kite assembled, every gust of wind threatened to lift it off the balcony. Jane and I slipped into the sling and backed against the tower wall.
“Georgie,” Sera said pensi
vely. “Remember when I cataloged your traits?”
I nodded, wondering what that had to do with our leap from the tower.
“I’m sorry for that.” She laid her hand on my shoulder as if pronouncing a benediction. “Now that I know you better, I see that you are not only smart, but you are brave and loyal. Above all, I see how passionately you care.” She let go and nodded in approval. “In the end, I believe that kind of nobility is rewarded.”
Peace rushed through me. And strength. But before I could respond, Jane spoke up, “A fine sentiment. But let us hope this is not the end.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Sera looked wounded.
I interceded. “I know what you meant. Thank you.” I inched Jane and the kite toward the parapet. All we needed to do was tip over the railing and we would be off. “Are you ready, Jane?”
“Yes.” She sounded brave, but her feet didn’t move.
She was usually the one to do the instructing, but today it fell to me. “Remember, don’t try to stand. Feet up. Head down. So the kite will tip at the proper angle to carry us into the courtyard.”
“Yes, I know.” She swallowed, nodding too fast. “I remember the plan.”
Sera glanced anxiously around the corner, checking the harbor. “The king’s ship is coming into port. It’s time.”
Jane sucked in her breath.
I shuffled us closer. “Hold on. Close your eyes if you must. We’re going.”
Jane gripped my shoulders for dear life. I leaned over the bar. A breeze caught the underside of the wings and we tipped over the railing. Our sling wobbled as the wind carried us over the edge.
We sagged into the air. Then we lifted. I cannot describe the unnerving sensation of falling and yet not falling. Jane’s feet kicked against mine as she did the natural thing, and scrambled to find ground to stand on, where there was none. The nose of the kite tipped perilously high.
A School for Unusual Girls Page 27