by Rebecca Diem
“We were both acting in our own defense, sir. Welcome aboard the QueenSparrow. I am Captain Edward Manning.”
Clara did her best to ease the lingering tension between the two men. She played her role as the Lady Winstead, walking elegantly about the ship with the Captain Duke on one arm and the sergeant on the other as she chattered on about how refreshing it was to journey by the air, and elaborating on the mission for the grain.
“We have just over a score of sacks for seeding, but we do hope to locate more. This was as much as our estate could spare at the moment, but it is our Christian duty to see to others’ care as well as our own. And Miss Ellington is the perfect image of charity and kindness. That is, she was—.” She stopped to gaze over the landscape below, looking so heartbroken and forlorn that the Captain seemed caught by the play himself, pressing his hand over her own in comfort. Thankfully, the sergeant felt the hook too.
“My dear lady, I feel for your loss. I am sure we could spare some of our own stock to add to your mission.”
Clara brightened, and could see the sergeant was completely lost.
“Oh would you? Oh that would be most welcome, thank you dear sergeant!” She clasped his hand and blushed. “Forgive me; it is rather splendid to know such good men are taking care of our skies. Are you certain it will be no trouble for you?”
“Not at all. A percentage is always assumed as spoilage in their calculations. It will not be missed. We have a rather large cargo this journey, my men and I were sent to ensure its safety.” The sergeant puffed his chest with pride. Clara sensed the Captain stiffen beside her.
“Thank you, it is most kind of you. Our dear Miss Ellington would be so honoured by your generosity.”
The Captain Duke thanked the sergeant graciously as well, and sent some of his own crew to help carry over another four dozen sacks over the other captain’s objections. Clara chatted on about the Season and country life and insisted that the sergeant call on her family in London at any time. Finally, repaired and restocked, the ships parted ways, as Clara waved the handkerchief gracefully in farewell until the Highflyer faded into the horizon.
When they could no longer see the other ship, she collapsed, laughing, on the deck. When her amusement subsided, she looked up to see the Captain standing above her with arms crossed.
“Oh don’t look so sour. It worked, did it not?”
“Lady Winstead, if I recall, is a dour blonde at least 10 years your senior.”
“Yes, and a dreadful bore as well.”
“And what will her family think when an unfamiliar sergeant comes to their door, praising their daughter for her charity and offering condolences for the loss of their dear governess?”
“I imagine they’ll wish the fiction was true.”
The Captain shook his head, not bothering to conceal his smile, and helped her up to stand with him.
“I’ll admit it. You have saved us all for a second time. That was clever, getting the grain from him despite it all.”
“How far was I from the truth?”
She saw him hesitate, grappling with the decision to trust her or not. Finally, he sighed, “We’re going up the western coast, not the east. But yes, we’ll be delivering it to those in need.”
He turned away to stare at the landscape before them, “I nearly had a heart attack when I saw the two of you all dressed up.”
“It was a near thing. It was lucky there were some that fit well enough. It would have been harder to explain a dusty ball gown if I’d had to use my own.”
“We’ll have to find better ones if we pull it off again.”
“I don’t think I like playing the simpering maiden. Did you see their inspection logs? I caught a look when the first mate had them brought over to calculate how much they could spare. We could play that angle instead.”
“What do you mean?”
“Fly under the inspector’s flag. Come in to inspect the stores and take a few as samples to test for spoilage or something. I know enough of trade law to make it work, and I can make up a passable receipt for them as well,” she explained. In fact, she had studied her father’s books on trade economics extensively. The library was her favourite escape in their home, and her family excused her proclivity to read everything in sight as long as she reported dutifully to her etiquette classes as well.
The Captain Duke considered her proposal. “I’ll admit we have not tried such a thing before, but the Tradist ships are under heavier guard these days.” He reached out to shake her hand. “We’ll make a good team.”
The wind caught at her skirts, blowing the material around his legs as he steadied her. Clara blushed and excused herself to change. She could feel his eyes on her as she crossed the decks to descend to the quarters below. She checked to see that Nessa was recovering, and shared a long hug with Cat and Mouse. Her heart soared at their success. The donated grain from the Highflyer would help their cause a great deal. The Captain Duke trusted her now.
As she dressed herself in her pilot’s clothes once again, she stared at the gown laid out on the bed.
Well, well, Clara, she thought. It’s a pilot’s life for me!
The adventure continues in
Tales of the Captain Duke
From Haven to Hell
Available May 2015
Preview: From Haven to Hell
It was a fine, cloudless day. A terrible day to mount an attack from the skies. But the weather could not be helped, and the Captain Duke and his crew could not delay this dreaded moment any longer. Clara’s knuckles were bone white as she clutched the railing of the airship. The land below was lush and green, with rolling hills bending into the distance, shrouded in the early morning mists. A ribbon of river could be glimpsed curving through the trees. The Lake District had always been known for its natural beauty, and now the forests and streams nestled in the valleys between the fells could be viewed in all their glory from above. Clara wished she could enjoy the scene at her leisure, but regrettably, the circumstances of their visit prohibited such sentiment. The airship was battle-ready, with armed gliders prepared to leap at a moment’s notice from the bow and stern. Soon they would reach the Haven, and the battle would begin.
The Captain Duke approached to stand beside her. Lost in her thoughts, she nearly jumped out of her skin as he rested a hand on her arm and pointed to steer her gaze.
“Over there, beyond those cliffs. The Haven is on an island in the Derwentwater, we’ll see it soon.” He looked at her with concern, “Will you be alright?”
“Yes. Just a few nerves. Tell me more. What is it like, the Haven?”
Clara was rewarded with a smile as he leaned back against the rail.
“It’s an old manor house. The only one on the isle. There’s thick forest on three sides with a clearing to the north for the port and cargo loaders. I found it years ago with Trick when we were looking for a place to hide out from a storm. We fixed it up, made peace with the local townsfolk. We made it into a haven. The Haven. Our home.” He sighed, “I planned its defenses myself, and now I must exploit its weaknesses.”
“Is it absolutely certain that we should expect trouble? Is there any chance that the Haven is not compromised?”
The Captain Duke stared far into the distance, gripping the railing. “A small chance, but it is not a risk we can afford. Robbie may be one of my officers, but he handpicked his crew to fly ahead. He led us into a trap.”
Clara took in the view, going over the battle plan again in her mind. Hardly a week had passed since a simple raid had turned into a perilous standoff between the Captain Duke’s pilots and a full complement of Tradist soldiers. She had managed to save them all by turning to the embellishments of her former life as a debutante, dressing as a highborn lady and persuading the sergeant to believe it was simply a misunderstanding. Despite the favourable ending, the incident was not without its costs. Robbie had sent them to attack that ship, and now he would answer for his betrayal.
“There.
Do you see it?” he asked, leaning forward over the rail.
The Captain Duke was tense, his brow creased with worry. And yet, Clara could see his longing, his anticipation to see his home. She said nothing, but gently laid a hand over his as the island came into view. Her heart was beating quickly in her chest and she took a deep breath as the Derwentwater spread itself before them in all its splendour. The small isle in their path was charming to behold, the natural elevation according it a dramatic flair as it rose above the deep blue waves.
“You should go below,” he said after a moment. “Nessa will be attempting her escape.”
Clara couldn’t help the smirk that crossed her face, but was reassured by his matching smile. She squeezed his hand, “There’s still hope.”
The Captain Duke’s smile faded and he grew serious once more.
“Tend to Nessa. She needs your care.”
Clara wished that she could ease his fears. He stood before her with his hair unbound, fiery waves that were swept across his shoulders by the wind. She fought an urge to tuck one of the bright strands behind his ear and tell him everything would turn out fine. Instead, she gave a curt nod, and after one final look at the scene before her, Clara descended to the cabins below.
Acknowledgements
My deepest gratitude to everyone who has supported me in pursuing this dream. Thanks to Jon Lawless for being the best cheerleader and for his CAPS LOCK enthusiasm, to Laura Sinclair for always asking for more, to Arden Dier for being my first beta reader, to Paola Loriggio for her editing prowess, and to Valorie Curry for calling me a writer before I knew I was one.
Thanks to all my family for sharing in this joy. My parents, Ray and Kelly; my sister, Leah, for all our bedtime stories; my brother, Andrew, for his excellent business sense; and extra thanks to my very talented sister, Sarah, for bringing the Captain Duke’s airship to life for the cover.
This book is particularly dedicated to the memory of my maternal grandparents, who saw the beginning of this book, but not the end. Grandma was a reader, and I’m so happy she had the chance to hear this story before she passed. Grandpa taught me about strength, dedication and hard work, and told us to do what we love. Well, I am.
Thanks to the thousands of authors whose books have filled my shelves and my imagination, and a special thanks to Neil Gaiman, who told me to finish things and said that I would do just fine.
Thanks to the lovely staff at Café Pamenar, the Bean Cellar, Frog Ponds Café, and Bridgehead for the caffeine, company and encouragement.
This started as a notebook of scribbled ideas. And now, I’m finally able to bring these worlds to life. So my final thanks are to you, Reader.
I hope you enjoy these adventures as much as I do.
--Rebecca Diem
August 2014
Rebecca Diem grew up in a far-off land known as Chatsworth, Ontario, surrounded by hills and forests and streams and strange metal beasts that tore through the landscape leaving iron in their wake.
And one day she began to write it all down...
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