by Rebecca Diem
A memory stirred in the back of Clara’s mind, “Oh. From the newspapers?”
“From Haiti, actually,” said Marie.
“Yes, of course. My apologies. You caused quite the stir here.”
She laughed, “My late husband’s family was not quite ready to embrace this new era. But they could not take my ships. Thierry and I were true partners in our trade.”
Clara had heard of Marie Buchanan, but she was better known as the Black Widow, the slanderous moniker given to her by the papers nearly a decade ago that she had since claimed as her own. Those hounds always seemed to seek out the most salacious stories. Captain Buchanan’s husband had been a wealthy landowner and merchant in the Caribbean, the last son of a prominent Marquis. His family did not approve of his choice of wife, and had engaged in a lengthy and sordid legal battle over his estate after his untimely death, issuing disparaging claims against Marie on the basis of her gender and race. Her victory against the regressive elements in the British colonies was also one of the first instances of the new reforms on women’s property being successfully employed in a legal defense. She was also the first and greatest airship pilot to ever master the Atlantic trade winds.
“I am honoured to meet you, Captain Buchanan. I have heard tales of your crossings. Your skill as a pilot is legendary.”
Marie smiled in appreciation, “Thierry always said he loved me for my wings, invisible to all but him. He told me if I married him he’d give me the skies. And that he did.” She looked wistful for a moment before turning her attention to the Captain Duke. “He also taught me to hire the best for our crews. Name the day and you’ll captain your own ship under my flag, Olivier.”
“And here I thought you were after Nessa last time we met,” he replied, unperturbed.
Clara thought for a moment that she detected a slight blush on Captain Buchanan’s cheek, but the woman merely raised an eyebrow in response.
“Good pilots are hard to come by and she is one of the best. Besides, I hear you’re having enough trouble with your crew as it is.”
The Captain Duke set down his tea firmly, “And what, exactly, have you heard.”
“I received a message from Trick about a shipment of gunpowder. I sent my reply through the usual channel, but it was your officer, Robbie, who responded. He was evading my questions about your current location, and his line of inquiry seemed suspect. I had planned to make a stop at Keswick to check in with Tims about the situation.”
“What did he say?”
“Robbie? He was asking about my contacts on the Isle of Wight.”
Clara sat up straight, “The Isle? Whatever could he want there?” She sat back after the Captain Duke gestured for calm, but she could still feel her heart racing. Had he already discovered her identity?
“I do not know. I demanded to speak to you and he cut off the line. I’d watch out for that one if I were you. He’s too ambitious with no good sense. But tell me how you came by this gunpowder and I’ll tell you what I know.”
The Captain Duke explained how they came by the shipment of gunpowder and their subsequent encounter with the soldiers during the next raid. Captain Buchanan listened carefully, asking questions here and there before sitting back and crossing her arms.
“I fear that our troubles are only just beginning,” she said. “I’ve been receiving strange requests from the Tradists. And the Board has asked that I personally attend a meeting next month in London.”
“And will you go?”
“They ask nicely, but you know as well as I that their requests are more like demands.”
“That’s the benefit of the black market—no one demands my presence. Besides, they need you. No one knows the Atlantic winds like you and your crews.”
Marie smiled, “True, but their invitation has sparked my curiosity. I want to know what they’re up to.”
“I trust you’ll keep us informed? I’ll have Trick set up a new line on the wireless and send you the codes.”
“Of course. And if you learn more about the origins of the gunpowder…”
“Naturally.”
Their business concluded, they turned the discussion to her latest voyage from the Americas. Clara and the Captain Duke shared their plan. Captain Buchanan gave advice on the finer points, helping Clara to shape the scheme to suit the culture of the docks. She even had Clara practice her act, going through the motions for the better part of an hour before declaring them ready to proceed.
“It is one thing to pick off the Tradist ships in the skies, but another matter entirely to confront the captains in their ports. You have lost the advantage of the skies, but gained security in the likelihood that they will see you as less of a threat. You would do well to remember that, Clara. Use it to your advantage. I appreciate your plan to avoid bloodshed. It is a harder path for some, but a worthy one.”
“Captain Buchanan, thank you. I truly appreciate your guidance.”
Marie gave Clara a warm smile, and drew her into an embrace before stepping back and straightening her jacket, radiating the authority of her station. “Now, off with you. I’ll send a few of my pilots along to spread word of this new inspection. Good luck, and send my blessings to Nessa,” she finished with a wink.
Another ship had docked while they were occupied. Clara, the Captain Duke, Anderssen and Peg circled round to the spoke where it was tethered. The pilots were busy unloading onto the elevators in the central tower that carried the goods to the ground below. The men and women looked up at their approach, and one hurried to call out the captain. A short man emerged from the airship to greet them on the dock.
“Ah, you must be the Inspector. As you can see, everything is quite in order, Miss…”
“Inspector Clarington,” she said with a severely arched brow, extending a hand. “I am certain there will be no trouble at all, Captain.”
Anderssen loomed over them, producing the official-looking paperwork which the captain merely glanced at before gesturing to his ship.
“Welcome aboard,” he said. “I’ll gather the books.”
By the end of the day, Clara had managed to try their ruse on three ships, collecting a mix of produce, textiles and fuel. They flew home over the rolling hills of the Lake District, thrilled with their success and discussed how they might expand their endeavour.
Chapter 9: In which our heroine duels with duality
Clara was quite pleased with herself. Since returning from their trip to Whitehaven, she had spent days poring through every text on the Tradists in the Captain Duke’s extensive library, days combing through the ledgers with Trick to create a plan of action that had the potential to double their supplies. She had determined that the optimal strategy would be to hit the major ports in small groups of four and five. Clara, Nessa and Anderssen would be the ‘inspectors,’ with the Captain and his crew near enough to intervene if they met any trouble. They endeavoured to keep their scheme as innocuous as possible to avoid raising suspicion. Clara was certain that it would vastly improve the efficacy of the Captain’s operations.
It was near to the end of their second week at the Haven and they were readying for departure. Soon it would be time to tell the rest of the pilots what they had in mind. Clara was preparing for an afternoon sparring session with Cat and Mouse before they finished packing the airships. She had just finished tying the bundle of padding together in the weapons room when she heard the door shut behind her.
“Hello, Clara.”
Her grip tightened on the handle of the wooden sparring sword.
“Do you require assistance, Robbie?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
She turned to face him, still holding the weapon.
“Oh come now. Surely there’s no need for that. I only wish to talk. I have a matter of great importance to discuss with you.”
“I’m afraid I’m otherwise engaged this afternoon. Perhaps another time.”
“I’m afraid you’ll want to hear what I have to sa
y, Miss Whittington.”
Clara’s blood ran cold and the hairs on the back of her neck rose to attention. She could do nothing but stare at the man before her. He paused to smirk before continuing.
“Ah, yes. You see, I made a few inquiries. It was not difficult to find you. I had access to the ship’s logs. I knew exactly which port you boarded at, the night of your departure. Imagine my surprise when I learned of your engagement. An Alexander Corring, I believe? My congratulations. Your fiancé is quite eager to know your whereabouts.”
“You are mistaken. He is no longer my fiancé.”
“Well there does seem to be some disagreement on that, but I’ll allow you to sort that out yourselves. Now, you do have a choice in the matter…”
Clara kept her silence, tracking him with her eyes as he slinked about the room with a practiced carelessness. Finally, he turned.
“I need funds. You need my cooperation. Do you see how our interests align?”
“So it is to be blackmail. Really, Robbie,” she said, her voice dripping with derision.
“A partnership is what I’m proposing. To our mutual benefit.”
“And if I disagree?”
“Then I’m afraid I will be obligated to alert him as to your location.”
“To what purpose?”
“Ah, you underestimate him. He seems to have neglected to tell his creditors of your broken engagement. He’s been spreading stories to any who will listen, and he is after your inheritance. In the absence of your family, there is no one to correct his lies.”
“Nonsense.”
“Is it now? As your fiancé he is entitled to concern himself with your affairs.”
“Alexander Corring is not my fiancé.”
“He appears to think he is. So does the rest of the town. As I hear it, in a fit of madness and grief, you ran out of your engagement party. He graciously agreed to postpone the wedding as you recuperate and recover your facilities. He is even prepared to be named as your guardian in the case that you maintain this state of madness. Think of how it would appear to the good people of Newport if they learned you had taken up with pirates? An heiress piratess? Really now.”
Clara felt as though she had been waiting for something like this to happen ever since she set foot on the Captain Duke’s airship. She knew she could not conceal her identity forever, but to have it come out now, just when everything was coming along so well, it cut to her core. Her only option was to hope that her trust in the Captain Duke was not misplaced. But first, she had Robbie to contend with.
Two could play this game, and years of living in society had given Clara an abundance of experience with duplicity. Changing tactics, she arranged her features into an expression of tentative curiosity, allowing the tip of her wooden sword to dip slightly. Robbie beamed. Amateur, she thought.
“Tell me, what would this partnership entail? Why should I trust you over the Captain?”
“You’ve seen how slavish he is in his devotion to the ‘cause.’ If he learns of your true assets, he will covet your fortune for himself. Do you really believe that the Captain would be any different than your former fiancé in this matter? I, however, have no interest in controlling what you do with your funds. I merely wish to provide you with the opportunity to become a benefactor.”
“And what would I be supporting, as your patron?”
“A much greater operation. Especially if you tell me everything you know about that gunpowder you came in with. I have sources who are very interested in supporting my endeavours. We could go anywhere, head for the silk routes where there are real riches to be gained. We could travel the world and I will double your fortune in a year. But tell me, what has your dear fiancé been up to, Clara?”
Clara stifled her reaction, the churning of her stomach and the sneer that threatened to mar her face. Instead, she demurred, playing up her birthright as a young lady. She lowered the sword, held awkwardly at an angle to the floor.
“I must say, it is a relief to be found out. It has been quite the adventure, but it is so tedious to conceal one’s true self for such a time.”
“I understand perfectly,” he said, with a smile.
“You must also understand that I cannot agree to this matter before giving it some thought.”
His smile turned to a grimace, “And you, I am sure, understand the consequences if you reveal our little arrangement to the others. I have my allies here, but we must wait for the optimal moment before proceeding. Timing is of great importance.”
“And you will help me prevent Alexander’s scheme to secure my inheritance?”
“I swear on my honour I will see to your safety if you agree to our partnership.”
Just then, the door opened and Cat peeked in.
“Clara? Are you coming?” She looked at Robbie with suspicion.
Clara picked up the bundle of padding and tucked the wooden swords under her arm. She bowed her head in acknowledgement to Robbie, who winked as she passed him to exit the room.
As they walked to the woods, Cat turned to her with a questioning look, but Clara gave a small shake of her head. She waited until they reached the clearing where Mouse was waiting, making certain they had not been followed before sharing what had transpired.
“He knows my true name and threatened to reveal it to the Captain. I need to speak with him first, but I will be watched. Do either of you know a way to reach him without passing inside? We must not be observed by any; we do not know who Robbie’s allies are.”
“Well of course. We’ll just climb up to the Bird’s Nest.”
“From the outside? Oh dear.”
“We’ve done it a thousand times,” said Mouse. “The Captain will understand.”
Clara was still uncertain, but Cat stared hard into her eyes.
“You’re one of us. You belong here, and the Captain knows it. Who you once were is not who you are now. He took us in and taught us that. And reminded us again and again until we knew it too. You can trust him. He always takes care of his pilots.”
Clara took a deep breath. Her mind made up, she reached out to take the children’s hands.
“I’m ready.”
Chapter 10: In which our heroine speaks for herself
“Captain? I need to talk to you.”
The Captain Duke was sitting at the desk in his personal chambers. He looked up in surprise as Clara entering from a passageway concealed by the paneling of the wall.
“Clara, what are you doing here?”
Clara crossed to sit in the armchair across from him, then rose again and paced the room. Even though she had planned an entire speech in her head, Clara had no idea where to start. She wished that Cat and Mouse were by her side, but they had been sent to fetch Trick and Nessa and she felt it important that the Captain hear her story first. He waited patiently, observing her distress, until she turned to face him once more. She took a deep breath and met his gaze.
“My name is Clara Whittington.”
The Captain Duke was silent, but his eyebrows registered his shock.
“You may have heard… My father, you see. My family is—well, I’m sure that you know what transpired.”
“Sit, Clara,” he said, rising. He moved to a sideboard and poured a finger of good scotch into two glasses. She took her place in the armchair, hands shaking as she accepted the glass. The Captain pulled an ottoman closer and sat by her side.
“I am familiar with the name, but you will have to explain the particulars of your situation.”
“Well, I— it’s hard to begin.”
“Let’s start with your family, tell me about them.” The Captain Duke reached forward and took her hand, “Tell me your story, Clara.”
Clara took a shaky breath and sipped the fiery drink. The sensation helped to clear her mind, and she focused on the Captain’s open expression. In that moment, her uncertainty cleared. This was a man she trusted. Calm now, she began to explain.
“My family is well known on the I
sle of Wight. My father, James Whittington, was a trusted advisor of Princess Beatrice before he became ill. It was a long illness, very hard on my family. My mother, Elise, had a difficult time of it. She withdrew from her social obligations, content to care for Father and her gardens. After Father passed, nothing could cheer her. My brother, Archie, had to leave for school again soon, and she wanted to see me settled before she left for the continent to visit her sister in France.
“There was a young man. He had sought my affection ever since my debut. He was so supportive throughout Father’s illness, visiting nearly every day and writing me letter after letter to raise my spirits. And he suggested that an engagement might improve my mother’s mood. I was, to my eternal shame, besotted with the man. It was foolish, but the lure of stability after such devastation was such that I could not resist. And so I agreed to marry him.”
The Captain Duke shifted in his seat at that, but urged her to continue.
“We were supposed to be in mourning. It had hardly been six months since Father passed. But my mother was never one to follow convention when it did not suit her, and she deemed it appropriate to have a small affair to announce the engagement. And, well…” she trailed off as her mind resisted the memory.
The Captain Duke waited in silence as she composed herself, for which Clara was immensely grateful. She could not handle any form of coddling at the moment. It had been the lowest moment of her life. But, she remembered, she might never have run away otherwise. The memory of that first day came to her, gazing through the portholes of an airship, wedged between the crates and the wall. A stowaway, imagining the endless possibilities before her.
The Captain Duke’s silent support spoke volumes. Clara was stronger, physically and mentally, than the girl she was before. She had the freedom of the skies, the liberty to become herself. With a deep breath, Clara found her resolve, deciding there was nothing to regret about the events which led to this moment. They were part of the story that brought her here. Taking a sip of the scotch, she straightened her spine and looked the Captain in the eye.