Magnificent Devices 07 - A Lady of Integrity (18 page)

Jake’s gaze met that of Tigg with a sense of recognition like a shock, and the boy stiffened. His head moving as though on ball bearings, Tigg looked away, pretending interest in a flock of pigeons landing upon the cistern in the middle of the square. He took another sip of his lemonade.

The Master of Prisons yanked Jake back into step, and Andrew distinctly heard the clink of a fine-gauge chain, though none was visible. Had the poor boy been tethered to his captor to prevent his breaking and running? It seemed likely. It would make their task somewhat more complicated, but would not deter them in the least.

On the other side of the square, a pair of men who had not been there a moment ago lounged against the same wall where Ian had reconnoitered the scene. A third had put his boot up on the church steps, adjusting its laces. And there, another held the door for the Master of Prisons and Jake, and followed them inside.

Three—and a half, if you counted a starved and barefoot young man—against five. Andrew supposed the odds could be worse. He cleared his throat and Tigg cleared his in return.

They had nothing to do but wait.

And wait.

Tigg paid the bill and got uneasily to his feet. From his cramped position on the ledge, Andrew could hardly contain himself a moment longer. How long did it take to release one prisoner and take another into captivity? The church steps were empty, and there were fewer people in the square, mothers and fathers having taken their children home with the deepening of twilight.

The bells began to ring, a cacophony of warning, and the bridge behind him rose with agonizing slowness. Again Andrew felt the disorienting sensation of the ground moving—but the feeling in his stomach was entirely eclipsed by his increasing unease.

Something had gone wrong.

“I believe I shall visit this lovely church,” Tigg said to the garden wall, and strolled across the square and up the church steps. Andrew swung down with much more grace than he had scrambled up. They were merely tourists, he thought as he joined Tigg. If their quarry were in the midst of negotiations, they would simply conceal their faces by inspecting the nearest painting, and take their leave.

Inside, twin sets of pillars marched down the nave, sheltering a number of old ladies in black kneeling on the marble in prayer. The benches for the Sunday service had not been put out on a weekday, leaving the great open expanse of the transept in clear view.

There was no sound except for the murmuring of the ladies, and, leaving Tigg admiring a Madonna set into a niche next to the door, Andrew walked the perimeter and checked each chapel, expecting every moment to surprise his quarry. When he reached the front doors again, he found Tigg shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I don’t like this.”

Andrew nodded, his jaw tense. “They’re not here. Did anyone pass you?”

“No one, sir. I don’t understand it. Those miscreants in the alley the way we came were gone by the time I crossed the square, but the two at the church went inside. How can five men disappear?”

“Let us search again.”

But a second search revealed nothing but the priest, who emerged from the confessional with yet another old lady, who joined her companions in prayer.

“May I be of some assistance?” he said in heavily accented English, perceiving them to be from foreign parts.

“We were to have met some friends here,
monsignore
, but we cannot find them,” Andrew said with an ease he did not feel. “Have you seen a military man in the company of a boy of about eighteen, with reddish hair?”

The priest shook his head, clearly sorry to have to disappoint them. “We will be singing vespers soon, so I must go. Perhaps they have found their way into the crypt? We have the finger bone of San Barnaba enshrined there—it might interest you to see it.”

Andrew and Tigg looked at one another. If one were to have a secret meeting, a crypt sounded like a capital place to do it. Following the priest’s directions, they went around to the back of the altar and down a staircase beneath, lit by lamps set into niches.

The finger bone of Saint Barnabas may have been there, lying in state, but Captain Hollys and Jake were not. Andrew stood in the cramped, cold space in front of the elaborately decorated altar that held the casket, his flesh nearly creeping on his bones. “Where could they have gone?” he asked the saint.

From above could be heard the sounds of singing, something in the construction of the spiral staircase filtering and transporting the old ladies’ voices into a sound that was almost celestial.

“Sir, over here,” Tigg said. “Round the back. Bring a lamp.”

Behind the casket’s resting place Tigg knelt on the stone, his keen eyes having seen in the thick shadows what Andrew would likely have missed. Andrew raised the lamp.

A metal ring as thick as his thumb was set into the stone. “Help me lift it,” Tigg said.

When the trap door was hefted back, they peered into the abyss to see the flicker and shine of the lamp’s flame on water, moving restlessly at the base of a ladder some six or eight feet below.

“Oh, no,” Andrew breathed.

19

“Elizabeth Seacombe, now is not the time for an unseemly display of misplaced independence.” Claire leveled her best Belgravia stare on her ward, which had no effect whatsoever on the green eyes flashing with temper.

They had not yet left the hotel—a fact that was grating on Claire’s nerves enough without Lizzie’s rebellion added to the roiling in her stomach. She had promised herself that she would not bring Gloria in to rescue Jake unless they had no other choice. Hence, their efforts were to be concentrated on stealing the
Stalwart Lass
from the impound field while they counted on the success of Ian’s mission.

But one did not need six people to steal an airship.

“I am sixteen years old, Lady—too old to be treated like a child and sent to my room.”

“Preparing
Athena
for lift is hardly the equivalent of being sent to one’s room,” Claire snapped. “It is a vital part of this rescue.”

“It’s you getting me and Maggie and Claude out of the way.”

“Nothing wrong with that, old girl,” Claude put in. “I’m all for getting out of here with skin intact. Place has gone cold on me, rather.”

“Claude is right,” Alice said, to Claire’s relief. “Claire is responsible for your safety. This is the best way to ensure it and to make a quick getaway, too.”

But Lizzie was beyond logic. “If you don’t let us help, I’ll take a water taxi over to the Lido and come anyway.”

Goodness. What had come over her?

Lizzie flounced away to the window and stood looking out over the water, her arms crossed and her fingers nervously tapping her elbows.

And then Claire knew.

“Darling, we are all worried for their safety,” she said quietly, crossing the room and slipping an arm around Lizzie’s waist. “But Tigg is an aeronaut now, fully trained and capable of defending himself. You need have no fear on his account.”

Lizzie’s lips trembled, but she was not willing to give in and concede that their dispute had an underlying cause unrelated to who was performing what duties.

“And while it distresses me that Captain Hollys was unwilling to hear my suggestions, he is also very capable. If anyone should be worrying, it is I. Andrew can hold his own, and has done so many times, but he is a man designed for thought, not action.”

It was some small comfort that Andrew was in the company of two of the most resourceful, brave, and intelligent men of her acquaintance. Surely among the three of them, they would be able to prevent disaster—or at the very least, escape from it.

“Be fair, Claire,” Alice said, pacing from window to door for at least the fiftieth time. “Mr. Malvern’s quick thinking saved your hide when you were swinging from the bow line during your escape from the mine, if what you told me once is true.”

“It is quite true.” Claire shuddered at the memory. “And I must trust that his quick thinking will aid in their present mission as well.”

“Are you really so worried for him, Lady?” Lizzie asked, searching Claire’s face.

“I am,” she confessed. “What woman does not worry for the man she loves? But I must say that I have given him far more cause for concern than he has given me. And as for you—” She brushed Lizzie’s blond hair back, attempting without success to tuck the ends into their chignon. “I fear that Tigg will share the same fate as Andrew, as will the fortunate young man who wins our Maggie’s affections.” When Lizzie smiled at that, and Maggie blushed, Claire went on, “In fact, the only person who will not experience such anxiety is the future Lady Hollys, whoever that complacent and rather dull creature may turn out to be.”

Lizzie giggled, but Alice turned so sharply at the end of her circuit of the room that the corner of the carpet flipped over. “If you girls are done making jokes, I think we should get on with it,” she said. “It’s after sunset. We won’t be able to fake sea-bathing, but we could pretend an interest in astronomy, if anyone can lay hands on a telescope.”

“There is one on
Athena
,” Maggie began, only to stop abruptly at the sound of footsteps coming rapidly down the corridor.

Claire’s knees went weak as Andrew and Tigg pushed open the door. Without a sound, Lizzie left her side and walked into Tigg’s arms—and, throwing propriety to the winds, Claire flung herself likewise into Andrew’s embrace. How blessedly warm he was, how solid, how alive! His arms went around her, tightly, as though she had been the one to put herself in danger, not he. But they only had a matter of seconds in which to indulge their emotions before Alice’s voice came from near the door.

“Where is Captain Hollys? And Jake? What happened?”

With an exhalation of breath, Andrew set Claire slightly away from him, at which point she saw the pallor of his skin and the despair in his eyes. Her heart seemed to stop in her chest.

“Andrew—they’re not—”

“Not dead, no. Not as far as we know. But they have been taken.”

“Taken?” Alice repeated, as if she’d never heard the word before. “Taken how? And where? By whom?”

The facts he proceeded to relate were simple. And damning. Each word brought home to them all exactly what they were up against.

Claire had to sit down.

Andrew poured a shot of brandy from the decanter on the sideboard and gave it to Tigg, then poured another for himself. “I am at a loss,” he said baldly once he had recovered from the first gulp. “We went in believing that we had out-thought them, that we had a foolproof plan. Captain Hollys was to have surrendered himself, and then Tigg and I would assist him in overpowering them all in the alley, leaving the captain and Jake both free. But they have bolted into a hole like the foxes they are, and I fear our resources may not extend to faking a ransom a second time.”

“Certainly not,” Claire managed from the corner of the sofa, where she had curled up, her arms wrapped around her knees while she did her best not to break down completely. “I am the only one who can claim a connection to the peerage—and no one is going to pay a ransom for me.”

This sad fact had been borne in upon her once already, in a locked room in Resolution, a town on the other side of the world. While her mother, Lady St. Ives, might have married into some semblance of security for herself, this happy state of affairs did not extend to her daughter. The estate simply did not have the funds for ransom. And while Claire’s means had improved markedly since that day in the Texican Territory, she doubted very much that, even if she offered these rascals everything she had, it would be enough to satisfy them.

“Count von Zeppelin might,” Maggie offered.

“Not after she scarpered in the night, against his wishes,” Lizzie reminded her, her voice muffled in Tigg’s shirt.

“Then the Dunsmuirs would,” Maggie persisted, her optimistic nature unwilling to concede defeat.

“They will not even receive Ian’s pigeon about his own ransom for days yet,” Claire said. “And even if they send it, I doubt the Minister of Justice will free him. He will simply make him disappear in the most permanent way possible, and either deny all knowledge of such a person, or send his condolences to the family.”

“Well, we have to do something,” Alice said. “We just have to do what you always say, Claire … catalog our resources and come up with the best plan we can.”

“If … I might offer a suggestion?”

For a moment Claire could not place who was speaking, but with a flush of embarrassment, she unfolded herself and turned to Gloria, who was standing near the window and had hardly said a word all afternoon. Claire was ashamed of herself. Here she had planned to ask Gloria an enormous favor—to put herself in danger for their sakes—and for the past ten minutes she had completely forgotten the girl was in the room.

“Please do,” she said, her voice only wobbling a little. “I shall be glad of any suggestions at all.”

“It seems to me that the first thing we must do is find out if Captain Hollys is to be imprisoned like a gentleman, or merely tossed into the dungeons with Jake,” Gloria said.

“He seemed convinced he would be treated like a gentleman,” Alice said, “but our enemies are not behaving as well as all that. I wouldn’t bet cash money on anything, at this point.”

“Even if you are right, Alice, how would we discover this?” Andrew asked. “I cannot very well walk in there and ask what they’ve done with him—I’d likely be clapped in the dungeons myself, simply for being an associate of his. I place no trust in the Master of Prisons, bowing and scraping to a man one day and abducting him the next.”

“That is why I should go,” Gloria said. “The Minister is in negotiations with Father, and even though Signore de Luca knows that I was with your party, I do have Father’s protection.”

“Absolutely not,” Andrew said.

“Agreed.” Tigg spoke quietly. He had not yet let go of Lizzie, but Claire did not have the strength to remonstrate with him. There were more urgent matters to be dealt with.

Gloria merely waited for someone else to offer an idea. When none was forthcoming, she said, “Very well, then. I shall go in the morning.”