Gwynn Place, page 9
Claire leaned into the speaking horn. “Lizzie, prepare to fire.”
“Ready. Five hundred feet?”
“That will do for a practice shot. Make it a good one.”
“Aye, Lady.”
Even with her voice made tinny by the horn, Claire could hear the smile of anticipation in it.
“Maggie, are your pistols ready?”
“Aye, Lady. Here is your rifle.”
Claire took it, her fingers closing around its familiar contours. She did not think they would be boarded—this crew thirsted for destruction, not capture—but it was best to be ready. Ready to countermand her own assurances to Andrew.
“Eight, take us out to sea. At least a mile. I should not want that great gasbag to fall in Mama’s roses.”
Il Doge adjusted her course to track them, clearly anticipating that Athena was not only manned, but meant to engage.
“Come on, you great bloated toad,” Claire heard Lizzie murmur through the horn.
The ship pursued them, filling their viewing ports more completely with each passing second. She was brightly lit, and now they could see men standing in the navigation gondola, which hung down from her belly in the shape of an old-fashioned ocean-going ship. Perhaps it had once been one, repurposed in memory of a time when Venice had ruled the Levant by sea. The gondola was much more ornate than a steamship, however, and even had a figurehead in the shape of a man in a square cap clutching a large book. Carvings of curls and whorls purled back from the bow, and now, with the first glimmer of dawn spearing across the horizon, they could see it was painted gold and red.
Maggie gave a sniff of disdain. “How inefficient. Imagine the drag of all that carving.”
“No wonder she needs a fuselage that size,” Claire agreed. “Maggie, Eight, we shall come about and maintain a position between them and Gwynn Place at all times. Lizzie, you may fire at will.”
Lizzie’s trigger finger must have been on edge, for the words were hardly out of Claire’s mouth when a bolt of deadly blue light split the air between their two ships. It burned along the bottom of the gondola, which, too late, they realized was actually wood, of all things, not metal. It absorbed the bolt, though in several places the carvings caught fire.
Lizzie’s aim was true—the first thing to do was disable the navigation—but the ridiculous wooden gondola had rebuffed the lightning.
“Aim for the gasbags, Lizzie,” Claire called, struggling to keep her voice calm. “They are coming about and gaining altitude. They mean to drop bombs on us, or coat us in lead.”
“Take us up, Lady!” Lizzie called. “I won’t miss again.”
“Eight, vanes full vertical,” Claire commanded. “What we lack in size we make up in maneuverability. They will not catch us so easily.”
She threw the helm over and Athena rose in a tight circle, always holding position between their attacker and the house. The extra few seconds, she prayed, would give the lightning cannon time to recharge.
“Now, Lizzie!”
Another blue, sizzling bolt arched across the space between the two ships, catching Il Doge full amidships as she rose. But instead of the wriggling tendrils of light they were so familiar with in rifle and pistols, the bolt was more like a serrated blade, blowing a hole the size of a steambus in the fuselage and piercing straight through to the gasbags within. With a whomp! that reminded Claire of an angry nursemaid who had once boxed her ears, the gas exploded outward.
The entire enormous fuselage of Il Doge collapsed like a sausage bent in half, eager tendrils of blue fire racing up its inner structure to create a fat pillar of white, gas-fed flame. The navigation gondola hung in the air for a second—tilted, flinging men hither and yon—plunged. The pillar of flame pursued it down … to be extinguished in the dark, heaving sea.
Lizzie and Maggie gasped at the horrifying spectacle, but Claire did not. She did not even spare a glance for the watery grave of the enemy. No, her entire being was bent on one object.
“Eight, come about, and make for Marazion at full speed.”
It was difficult to know who was more solicitous, the Mopsies as they fussed over Snouts’s broken leg, or Andrew as he fussed with cushions for Claire’s back. But at length everyone was settled in the drawing room with plates of a breakfast so late it must properly be called luncheon.
Mama would have been appalled to see the use to which her sunny, yellow-curtained room was being put, but Mama was not here, and a picnic was certainly called for, given the night’s events.
“I cannot believe I slept through the entire battle,” Nicholas grumbled for the third time as he tucked into his eggs and sausage. “Clary, I am very angry with you.”
She must not smile. He sounded exactly like Mama. “I am sorry to hear it, dearest. Though I should not have liked to see you laid up in a cast like poor Snouts. I believe the doctor hurt him most dreadfully as he was setting the bone.”
She shot a speaking glance at her second in command.
Snouts did his best to look pitiful as he backed her up. “I should think it will take months and months to heal, and even then I may have to use a cane.”
“You must stay here and let Mama take care of you,” Nicholas told him, clearly alarmed at this bleak prognosis. “I should not like to be in pain so long as that.”
Snouts went a little white around the gills at the thought of surrendering himself to Lady Jermyn’s ministrations under any circumstances.
“Actually, darling,” Claire said to her brother, as his eyes filled with tears at Snouts’s distress, “that is a very good idea.”
“Lady Jermyn taking care of me?” Snouts croaked in alarm.
“No, our staying here while you mend.” She turned to her brother. “In fact, Mama has told me she and Sir Richard would like to trade houses with us, so that she may put herself under the care of her doctor in Harley Street.”
“Trade houses?” Nicholas forgot his tears and grumbles in the shock of this news. “You mean you would stay here? With me and Caroline?”
“Yes. What do you think of the idea?”
“I think it is topping!” Nicholas cried. His plate pitched alarmingly, and would have upended itself on the floor save for Kitty’s quick lurch to save it.
She handed it back to him. “Calm yourself, silly, or you will have eggs everywhere.”
“I cannot calm myself! What fun if everyone could stay here!”
“Everyone?” Maggie said. “Not I, for I must return to Lucy and Alfred and the chickens at Holly Cottage, and my studies.”
“Nor I, more’s the pity,” Lizzie said, “for it is back to Munich for me. And not a glimpse of Tigg this trip, either.” Her mouth drooped.
But Claire and Andrew had seen something that Lizzie had not, in all this morning’s upheavals. Along with several other ships, they’d spotted the graceful form of Lady Lucy coming to the aid of her fallen compatriots at St. Michael’s Mount, and assisting with the transport of the injured to the Corps hospital in Plymouth.
There was a tap upon the morning room door and it opened to reveal the broad, stalwart form of Second Engineer Thomas Terwilliger in his khaki uniform, the silver officer’s wings upon his collar points glinting in the light.
“Tigg!” Lizzie shrieked, and this time it was Maggie who saved a plate from destruction as Lizzie thrust it into her hands. She leaped over Snouts’s plaster-encased leg where his foot reposed upon a stool.
“Hey!” cried the injured party, to be utterly ignored.
Laughing, crying, Lizzie was swept up into her fiancé’s arms with as much joy as though it had been years and not weeks since they had seen one another last. He kissed her soundly, and when he could bring himself to release her, he kept her hand in his as he bent for Claire’s kiss of welcome.
“Lady, good morning.”
She touched his face, smiling into his eyes. “The sight of you is the best gift we could ask for—after finding Andrew and Snouts on the beach relatively unharmed, that is.”
“I hope you can bear a second gift,” came a merry feminine voice, and Lady Dunsmuir stepped around the door.
Claire abandoned breakfast altogether, as she and Andrew leaped to their feet to be enfolded into her silken embrace.
“I bring news, my dears.” Her ladyship’s keen, dark-eyed gaze found Kitty.
“Come, do sit,” Claire invited the newcomers. “Nicholas and I will bring you both a full plate.”
When they had sustenance in hand, Lady Dunsmuir sat on the sofa next to Kitty. Nicholas took the opportunity to sit cross-legged upon the floor, leaning upon her ladyship’s knee.
“I am glad to see the two of you looking so well, after your clever escape,” the countess began.
“I would be ever so much better if I had seen the battle this morning, your ladyship,” Nicholas told her. “Clary shot down Il Doge. That means The Duke,” he added.
“I heard something to that effect on the Mount,” she said. “Well done, Claire.”
“It was Lizzie, actually, who made the shot,” Claire said.
“Then if my hands were free, my new hat would be off to you,” her ladyship told Lizzie with a smile.
Tigg squeezed her shoulders. “I’d expect nothing less,” he said with a nod, until Lizzie silenced him with a bite of food.
“What of the Helios Membrane?” her ladyship asked.
“Safe in Athena’s hold,” Andrew told her, and her spine relaxed just a trifle.
“Were there any survivors aboard Il Doge?” When Claire shook her head, she looked grave. “I have had information that Il Doge—the man himself—was aboard her. Apparently, after a conference at Rocamadour that involved the destruction of a quantity of furniture, he ordered his aeronauts into English skies in contravention of every international law. If it is true that he is dead, Lord Shelbourne will have his work cut out for him. There will be a dreadful scrimmage for the throne.”
“Let us hope it keeps them occupied for some time,” muttered Snouts.
“Have you spoken to Papa, your ladyship?” Kitty interrupted to ask eagerly. “Is he coming home?”
“Not for a little while, dearling,” Davina said gently, switching from politics to maternal concerns with smooth grace. “But I believe Nicholas and Lady Malvern and Polgarth the poultryman would like it if you were to stay here until he does. Would you like that?”
“Not go back to London?” Kitty’s puzzled gaze searched hers. It was clear the child had long ago given up hope of anyone’s noticing whether she was happy, no matter where she was housed.
“Not for some time.” Claire said, determined that she should have a choice for once. “Nicholas need not go to Eton, either, but have a tutor as brave and clever as ever Mr. Dean proved himself to be. If you stayed, you could join him in his lessons.”
“Papa would never let me stay here.” Kitty’s face fell, and she shook her head, the fat curls bouncing on her shoulders. “And when Minerva the Great has chicks in the spring, I will not be here to see them.”
“I think your papa might disagree.” Lady Dunsmuir’s eyes softened in compassion. “I have in my possession a letter in which he gives you his full and glad permission to stay. Perhaps you will be able to show him Minerva’s chicks, if he comes in the spring.”
“Really?” Kitty’s voice was soft with awe. “Stay? With Nicholas and baby Caroline and everyone?”
“We can’t think of anyone we’d rather have than you,” Claire told her firmly. “And when we move the laboratory here, we might add mechanics to your education, as we did for Maggie and Lizzie and Tigg when they were your age.”
“I would like that,” Kitty said. It was obvious she still half doubted it could come true.
“I should like more lessons in mechanics, Clary,” Nicholas told his sister. “I want to make the cargo pigeon fly where I want it to go, not where its code says it is to go.”
“That’s easy enough,” Tigg said, laughing. “All you do is—”
“Lieutenant,” Claire said in a warning tone, for causing pigeons to fly to fixed addresses was quite illegal, and the fewer who knew that they came to Carrick House, the better. In fact, she had better tinker with the household pigeons when they went back to London, so that they would come to Gwynn Place in future.
In fact, the list of all the things they would need to do when they returned to London suddenly seemed overwhelming, and Claire sank back into the circle of Andrew’s arm.
“Are you all right, dearest?” he asked softly. “Would you like another cushion?”
“Why would she want cushions?” Maggie asked, a pleat forming between her brows. “Lady, did you suffer some injury this morning that you have not told us of?”
Every person in the room came to attention.
“No indeed.” Claire blushed and looked up at her husband. “We have some wonderful news. We are going to be parents in July.”
Lizzie’s eyes widened. “Oh, Lady!”
Maggie covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes filling with tears.
Davina Dunsmuir reached over to clasp Claire’s hand. “I am so happy for the two of you! Nicholas, did you hear that? You are going to be an uncle!”
Nicholas blinked at her. “An uncle? Clary is having a baby? Like Mama?”
“She is indeed, old man,” Andrew told him. “And do not worry. Nothing will happen to your sister. The question is, are you up to the task?”
The boy looked a little bewildered. “I do not know how to be an uncle.” Then his face brightened. “But I know how to be a big brother. And the baby will have Caroline for a sister, and Kitty, and Maggie and Lizzie, and Snouts and Lewis, and Polgarth, and Michael, and …”
Claire laughed. “He or she certainly will. The biggest, bravest, loveliest family a baby ever had.” Nicholas carefully removed her breakfast plate so that he could climb on to the sofa. Claire added softly, “And we will all be together, right here at Gwynn Place.”
“Promise?” Nicholas snuggled between Claire and Andrew, while Lady Dunsmuir took Kitty’s hand and squeezed it.
“I promise,” Claire said softly.
“Then it will come true,” he said with complete confidence. beaming as they all laughed.
The sun laid a golden path across the sea and through the tall, south-facing windows. With a grateful heart, Claire acknowledged the promise it held. When the storms of winter were over, there would be new growth and burgeoning life on these beloved acres. And because of love, because of family, because of friends, she and Andrew would stride forward to embrace the future with joy.
Faithful reader, this concludes the “manor house” quartet of novellas. But never fear, there are more novels and novellas set in the Magnificent Devices world yet to come!
In the meantime, do embark on a journey with Daisy and Frederica Linden in the Mysterious Devices series, as they search for their father (last seen in Fields of Gold) and solve mysteries along the way. The adventure begins with The Bride Wore Constant White—I hope you will enjoy it!
Fair winds,
Shelley
Also by Shelley Adina
STEAMPUNK
* * *
The Magnificent Devices series
Lady of Devices
Her Own Devices
Magnificent Devices
Brilliant Devices
Magnificent Devices: Books 1–4 Quartet
A Lady of Resources
A Lady of Spirit
Magnificent Devices: Books 5–6 Twin Set
A Lady of Integrity
A Gentleman of Means
Magnificent Devices: Books 7–8
Devices Brightly Shining (Christmas novella)
Fields of Air
Fields of Iron
Fields of Gold
Magnificent Devices: Books 9–12
* * *
Carrick House (novella)
Selwyn Place (novella)
Holly Cottage (novella)
Gwynn Place (novella)
* * *
The Mysterious Devices series
The Bride Wore Constant White
The Dancer Wore Opera Rose
The Matchmaker Wore Mars Yellow
The Engineer Wore Venetian Red
The Professor Wore Prussian Blue
* * *
REGENCY ROMANCE (as Charlotte Henry)
* * *
The Rogue to Ruin
The Rogue Not Taken
One for the Rogue
* * *
PARANORMAL
* * *
Corsair’s Cove
Kiss on the Beach (Corsair’s Cove Chocolate Shop 3)
Secret Spring (Corsair’s Cove Orchard 3)
* * *
Immortal Faith
About the Author
Shelley Adina is the author of 24 novels published by Harlequin, Warner, and Hachette, and more than a dozen more published by Moonshell Books, Inc., her own independent press. She writes steampunk and contemporary romance as Shelley Adina; as Charlotte Henry, writes classic Regency romance; and as Adina Senft, writes Amish women’s fiction.
She holds an MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University, and is currently at work on a PhD in Creative Writing with Lancaster University in the UK. She won RWA’s RITA Award® in 2005, and was a finalist in 2006. She appeared in the 2016 documentary film Love Between the Covers, is a popular speaker and convention panelist, and has been a guest on many podcasts, including Worldshapers and Realm of Books.
When she’s not writing, Shelley is usually quilting, sewing historical costumes, or enjoying the garden with her flock of rescued chickens.
