Miss Henrietta Lafleur tipped her
pink parasol back to peer up at the airship straining against its tethers under
the hot May sun. Strong hemp ropes as big around as her wrist held the amazing
flying ship captive to the St. Louis Air Dock. A light breeze ruffled the white
lace bow at the front of Henri’s little straw hat. The ship’s lines creaked in
protest.
Several people in line to board
on the crowded wooden dock ducked and cried out when the huge shadow shifted a
bit.
Henri shook her head in disgust. Anyone
with half a brain could see that the tethers were more than adequate to control
Eagle. The ship was only one hundred and fifty feet long. When railroad workers
had announced their anticipated strike a month ago, a wealthy shipbuilder had
been ready with plans to launch a fledgling regional air service. Relatively
small airships like the Eagle would transport a dozen passengers as well as
mail and small amounts of freight between cities in only hours—for an
exorbitant fee, of course.
Her little dog wriggled in the
heavy portmanteau she carried. Her stomach clenched.
“Scotty, quiet!” she said under
her breath. She did not believe a small black dog, no matter how well-behaved,
would be welcomed on board an airship.
The wriggling stopped.
A tall, gray-haired woman wearing
an unfashionably-large hat peered down at her through a smudged pince-nez.
“Do you need to borrow a
handkerchief to clean your lenses?” Henri asked without thinking. Gazing
through smudged glass made her hair stand on end.
The woman had opened her mouth to
speak, but she snapped her jaws shut with an audible click, stuck her big nose
in the air and then turned her back on Henri. She is offended. Henri swallowed hard. She had meant the offer as a
kindness. She feared she would never completely blend in, despite Miss Green’s best
efforts to mold her into a lady.
Henri sighed. She would miss her
kind governess. Leaving home was surprisingly heart-wrenching.
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The ship’s looming presence drew
her gaze upward once more. The shear mechanical genius of the thing made her
heart skip a beat. Her face felt strangely stretched. She must be grinning from
ear to ear—something she hadn’t done since Father had surprised her with a
telescope last Christmas.
She stiffened, remembering what
had followed. The next day her parents had explained all the logical reasons why
her fascination with science was all well and good as a pass-time, but she must
give up her ambition to be recognized as a real scientist. Instead, Father and
Mama would provide a governess to teach her the finer points of etiquette and how
to run a household. She must apply herself to learning these skills like any
proper lady from a good family—in preparation for a suitable marriage, of
course.
In that moment she had decided to
wrest control of her destiny from the hands of her hopelessly old-fashioned
parents. Henri agreed one-hundred per cent with the Rationalist movement that
asserted the restrictions Society placed on women in 1860 were not only
illogical, they were harmful. All that potential talent going to waste! Women
like Underground Railroad conductor Harriet Tubman and airship designer Marie
Van Allen were making significant contributions to America and the rest of the
world. Henri would do the same.
With her parents none the wiser,
she had pretended meek submission to their plans for her. She’d studied the
ways young ladies hid their true feelings behind masks of civility while manipulating
others to get what they wanted. Using her newfound social skills to hide her
plans, she’d managed to secure an in-person job interview at Chicago’s
prestigious University of Science and Industry—which was what had brought her
to the air dock today. She’d pawned her jewelry for funds to procure an airship
ticket.
The conductor’s whistle blew from
the top of the docking tower. “All aboard!”
Henri glanced up with a frown. She
dreaded having to haul her heavy bag up the steps. A mustached man in a gray
uniform frowned down at the elderly gentleman with a cane who was first in line.
The poor man could only climb the thirty-foot stairway at a snail’s pace.
Relieved to have a moment’s rest,
she set her bag down. Scotty should be all right until after their flight left.
If only the day had not been unseasonably warm. As it was, she’d wet his fur to
keep him cool. Even so, she feared he might grow ill from the heat in his
stuffy bag. However she could not bear to leave Scotty behind. If she secured
the position at the university she would not be returning home. Scotty must
remain hidden until they were well underway.
Henri pulled her handkerchief out
of her reticule and dabbed at her sweaty face in what she hoped was a dainty
fashion. Her cheeks burned with the heat and her throat was parched. The effort
of carrying the heavy bag and the abominable parasol had made her bodice cling
unbearably to her warm skin above the accursed corset Society required her to
wear. The damp dress felt like some unnatural second skin. She shuddered and
bit her lip to take her mind off the urge to strip off her clothing as she
would have done in her room at home.
A giggle bubbled in the back of
her throat, threatening to squeeze off what little breath the corset had not.
Undressing in public would definitely draw attention to herself, something she
could ill afford. Where in heaven’s name had she put her fan?
Bending over to unbutton the side
pocket of her portmanteau, Henri nearly pitched forward onto her face as black
spots appeared at the edges of her vision. A strong hand caught her elbow and
easily righted her. She looked up into a smiling male face sporting a
well-trimmed brown beard. Aunt Eliza’s voice echoed in Henri’s head. A fine physical specimen, that. Aunt
Eliza had held great admiration for the male of the species. The proportions of
this stranger’s features were certainly pleasing.
“Please forgive me, Miss,” the
man said. “I fear the heat may have overcome you.”
He scooped up her bag with one long-fingered
hand as if it were as light as a dandelion seed. In his other hand he carried a
large traveling case that no doubt held his own belongings.
Eyes the color of aquamarines
gazed into hers. “Are you feeling lightheaded, Miss?”
Henri shook her head in denial.
The breeze had strengthened, cooling her cheeks.
His gaze raked her from top to
toe and back in a perfunctory manner. “We Americans would do well to dress for
the weather rather than for modesty. It is unfortunate that Society does not
agree with me on this point.”
I
agree with you,
she thought, but she didn’t speak aloud. The less she conversed, the less
chance she would say the wrong thing and draw more unwanted attention.
In her bag, Scotty growled a
warning.
The man’s brows drew together
above his blue-green eyes. He leaned in and whispered. “Do you realize there is
an angry animal in your portmanteau?”
His warm, whisky-scented breath
on her cheek made her shiver in spite of the heat.
How
very strange.
As he straightened his eyes
sparkled, however the corners of his mouth did not turn up. Was he alarmed?
Angry? Joking?
Nonverbal communication was not
her strong suit.
She decided the simple truth
would have to suffice. “Scotty is my dog,” she whispered. What had Miss Green
taught her to do to disarm a gentleman? She stepped closer to him and fluttered
her lashes. “Please do not give us away. I can’t leave him behind.”
The man blinked. His eyes
darkened. “I could never give you away,” he responded softly. “I’m not a fool.
Besides, I’ve always fancied myself capable of smuggling. Now is my chance to
test the idea in the company of a beautiful woman.”
Henri did not know what to say.
Why would giving her away make him a fool? Why did he want to try a criminal
activity with a beautiful woman? Why did his words make her feel hot and cold
at the same time? She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, her
mind uncharacteristically devoid of thought.
He indicated the base of the
tower with his chin. “After you, Miss. The Eagle
awaits.”
Scotty had settled into a
resigned silence, apparently deciding the stranger was no threat. In her
experience the dog was a good judge of character. A young woman in the company
of a gentleman would not stand out among the passengers. She could turn the
man’s attentions to her advantage. However, she must act the proper lady. It
wouldn’t do to give him the wrong idea.
Henri inhaled deeply and lifted
her chin. “We have not been properly introduced, Sir.”
The corners of his wide mouth
turned up. “Under these unusual circumstances, I shall beg you to allow me to introduce
myself. Dr. David Truth, at your service. I promise I won’t let the cat out of
the bag.”
He waited patiently while she
sorted out his meaning. He was joking, of course, because he had already
promised not to let Scotty out of the bag. Henri considered pointing out that
Scotty was not a cat She decided the species of her pet was irrelevant.
Miss Green had instructed her to express
admiration when introduced to a gentleman. Truth was an unusual name. “Truth is
a name to be proud of, for what is more desirable than Truth?”
His smile widened. “I like the
way you think. But what of beauty? Kindness? Skill? Meaning?”
Henri tipped her head to the
side, considering. “Are they not all a form of Truth?”
He nodded. “You are intelligent
as well as beautiful, Miss—?” He paused and looked at Henri with expectation in
his eyes.
“Lafleur,” she said, hoping she
was not making a mistake. “Henriette Lafleur, of Lafayette, Louuisiana.” Would
he expect more information?
“A lovely name for a lovely
lady,” Dr. Truth said.
She dropped her gaze to the
ticket in his pocket. Why did his statement make her cheeks burn and her
breasts ache? Other men had said as much, but as soon as she had opened her
mouth, they had come to realize she was ‘touched’ and the admiration had faded
from their eyes. Yet she had spoken to this man for several moments and he
continued to compliment her. She stole a glance at his face. His eyes shone
with what she believed was intelligence and humor.
“Miss Lafleur, I assure you I am
quite harmless,” he said. “I’m a physicist on my way to Chicago to interview
for a position at the University of Science and Industry. You are quite safe in
my company.”
Henri’s felt as if someone had
just cinched her corset. This stranger must be the other applicant for the
position with Dr. Krieger. They were on their way to apply for the same opening.
He was her competition.
The conductor’s whistle shrilled
three times in quick succession. Glancing around, she found the line had moved
past them and up the tower to the boarding gangway without her noticing. Dr.
Truth dropped his bag, grabbed his hat and waved it overhead. “Hold!”
The red-bearded conductor
returned his wave. Dr. Truth retrieved his big travel case. “We must hurry.
Miss Lafleur, or we will not make our flight.”
They hurried. Henri worked at
digesting this new revelation. Having knowledge her competition didn’t might
give her an edge. She must keep her true reason for traveling hidden.
Five minutes later a winded Dr.
Truth stood beside her with his back to the Eagle’s railing. About half the
passengers remained on deck to experience the airship’s launch, They had spread
out to give one another privacy. The remainder preferred to sit inside the main
cabin with a cool drink and watch through glass windows.
Henri’s portmanteau sat on the
deck between her and Dr. Truth. She unfastened one end to let Scotty breathe
some fresh air. His black button nose poked through the opening. Straightening,
Henri leaned her arms on the chest-high railing and scanned the crowd behind
the safety barriers for familiar faces. Many had come to the air dock to see a
fabled airship. When a thin, well-dressed mulatto man appeared, Henri feared
for a moment Uncle Claude had come to fetch her home. Then he lit up a pipe. She
was mistaken. Smoke of any kind gave Uncle Claude coughing fits. Her knees
sagged with relief.
A strong hand on her elbow should
have steadied Henri Instead the doctor’s kind support further weakened her
knees. Her hands tightened on the polished brass rail. What was the matter with
her?
“Perhaps we should sit down,” Dr.
Truth said. His gentle touch guided her to a wooden bench attached to the
outside of the ship’s main cabin. Strange new sensations coursed through her
body like the effects of a spirituous drink.
She took her seat and opened her
parasol. At least the ugly pink monstrosity blocked some of the heat of the
sun. And the eject-able knife she’d built into the tip might come in handy if
she encountered ruffians on her journey. She had only to press a small button
in the handle and the knife would appear.
Dr. Truth stowed their bags under
the bench and sat down.
She sighed. “If only it weren’t
so pink.” Miss Green insisted men preferred a woman with a pale complexion.
Henri’s skin darkened with the slightest kiss of the sun, so she must be extra
careful to be consistent with the use of her parasol.
“What?” Dr. Truth said, fingering
his aquiline nose. “Am I sunburned?”
She must cease talking to herself in front of others, as Miss Green had
told her a thousand times. People became confused. “No. My parasol is so ugly.
I hate the color pink.”
“I see,” he said, lips twitching
below his thin moustache. “Does it help if I say that I am color blind? To me,
your parasol appears the same color as a field of lush spring grass. I cannot
tell the difference between reds and greens, other than the intensity of the
shade.”
“I only wish it appeared that way
to me.” Color blindness. She’d heard of the condition without giving any
thought to what it would mean to someone afflicted.
A bell like a train bell rang at
the bow of the airship. Dr. Truth started To Henri’s surprise he proceeded to
reach underneath the bench and unbuckle his travel case.
“How very odd the world must seem
to you now,” Henri said.
Peering between his legs, he
lifted the lid of the case an inch as if verifying the contents, then shut his
bag and sat up without fastening the locks. “I have never seen it any other way,
so the world is as beautiful to me as to you.”
She tipped her head, considering.
“Perhaps more so. Bright pink hurts my eyes. I cannot enjoy that color as
others do.”
“Nor can I,” he pointed out.
“Is this a debate?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because each time I present a
theory, you counter it. I point out our differences; you insist they are
similarities.”
“We are flirting, Miss Lafleur. It
is a common courtship ritual.”
She frowned. “Forgive me. I did
not intend to flirt.”
“No forgiveness necessary—”
The deck lurched beneath them.
All the color drained from his face. Henri braced her boots against the boards
and grabbed a handle nailed into the wall beside the bench. She watched the
doctor do the same while her stomach seemed to drop, then rise. The deck
slanted upward toward the bow.
Scotty whimpered.
Henri had never felt so daring. The
changing forces of lift and acceleration were the only thing keeping her from
running to look over the side.
“We’ve taken off!” she said to
Dr. Truth.
The man’s face seemed to be
turning green. The expression on his face reminded her of Father when he’d had
too many whiskies.
Then her dog made repeated
hacking noises.
“Oh dear! I have heard of this,
Dr. Truth. You and Scotty have the air sickness.”
Sweat shone on his skin as he
shook his head in denial. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “The dog, yes. My problem
is not the same.”
“Perhaps drinking and flying do
not mix,” she ventured.
“I believed a few shots of whisky
and a parachute would keep the terror at bay,” he ground out. “I have an
illogical fear of flying. Of not
flying, actually. Of c-crashing.”
The bench pressed against Henri’s
bottom, the deck against the soles of her boots. The Boatswain’s Mate relayed
orders to the crew and the crewmen called them back to him.Tthe great ship
seemed to crest a wave and the pressure fell away until Henri thought she would
float off the bench. The ship leveled and the world seemed to right itself.
Dr. Truth gasped air as though
he’d been holding his breath through the maneuvers. “I apologize…for my
cowardice.”
Henri’s father had a similar horror
of birds. So odd that such an unreasonable fear could bring a strong man to his
knees. Birds were mostly small and harmless creatures. Whereas on occasion,
airships did crash. Not often, though.
“No apology necessary,” she said.
The poor man was trapped in a nightmare.
Once, determined to overcome his
fear, Father had bought Henri a pretty yellow canary in a gilt cage. At the
tender age of five years she had been unable to understand his distress. She’d
simply accepted that, no matter how hard he tried, he could not bear to be in
the same room with the little creature that sang pretty songs. She’d
accompanied her mother give away her pet as a gift to a distant cousin. Her
father had been gone for a week after they’d returned home.
A small object impacted the hull
with a solid thunk. Eyes closed, Dr.
Truth flinched.
“Probably an unfortunate bird,”
Henri said.
There was no response.
Unlike her father, the doctor
could not escape the situation until this evening when they landed in Chicago.
Perhaps she could distract him?
“The odds against the airship
crashing are a hundred to one,” she said, smiling. She laid her hand on his
rigid one that gripped the seat between them. “Personally, I am more concerned
with a fire. The hydrogen gas that gives the ship lift is extremely flammable.
That is why no firearms are allowed onboard.”
Dr. Truth’s gazed at Henri
through slit lids. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”
“No. Do you? Feel better, I
mean?”
He gave his head a little shake.
“I have lavender drops in my
reticule. They calm me when my nerves act up. Would you like one?”
His gaze had fastened on her
mouth as if it were a lifeline. His nod was nearly imperceptible. She located
the small drawstring purse tied to her waist and removed a smaller bag of the
medicinal sweets. When he merely stared, white-knuckled, at the drop she
offered, she reached over and poked it between his lips with her index finger.
The moist heat of his mouth penetrated her
