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  “Come, come, Professor, let me show you the laboratory,” Cobb continued, either oblivious to or choosing to ignore Edward’s discomfort. “I thought you might want to take advantage of it to do some aether experiments at high altitudes.”

  Now all thought of Miss McTavish flew from Edward’s mind. “Oh, that would be grand.”

  “Excellent. Marie, please take Miss McTavish to her quarters so she can freshen up after the professor’s and her mad run.”

  Edward shot her a glance of apology, but Iris wasn’t looking at him. She studied Cobb and nodded once to indicate she’d heard him. “Thank you,” she murmured, but Edward knew she wasn’t as meek as she appeared.

  A light touch on his arm told him Cobb was waiting, and he followed the older man into the ship of his dreams.

  Chapter Ten

  Winchester Field, 10 June 1870

  “This way, Miss,” the maid said. Iris’s stomach made an uncomfortable turn when she stepped aboard the gondola, which floated. The air chambers overhead were filled almost to capacity and pulled the ship against its moorings. She had to admit to herself that part of her discomfort was due to not knowing the maid’s name until Cobb mentioned it. And that after having lectured Edward about not thinking of the people his science could benefit. Her father’s voice came to mind: no matter what you find out about objects from the past, remember there were real people who used them and perhaps loved them. They had names and families and birthdays like we do.

  “Thank you,” Iris said again. The maid handled her and Professor Bailey’s valises as though they weighed nothing in spite of the long walk to her cabin and the stuffy heat of the corridor, which didn’t benefit from ventilation if the ship wasn’t moving.

  Professor Bailey… What had possessed him?

  Indeed, what had possessed her to go along with it? She was sure she’d hear from Bledsoe about it later. But she couldn’t very well rebuff the professor every time he wanted to speak with her. That would make for a long, lonely journey for both of them, especially since the alternative conversationalist would be Bledsoe himself, and the more Iris interacted with him, the less she liked him.

  “Here we are.” Marie set the valises on the floor in front of the last door on the left.

  Iris stifled a sigh. Lovely, I’ve probably been assigned the smallest cabin.

  “It was to have been your father’s, and Mister Cobb said not to bother to rearrange room assignments.”

  Marie opened the door and gestured for Iris to precede her, then followed and placed her valise on the bed. Her trunk had already been delivered.

  Iris found herself in a corner cabin facing a curved bank of windows open to the surroundings on two sides, in this case a view of the shore beyond the airfield. A queen-sized bed with striped blue coverlet dominated the room, but Iris couldn’t take her eyes from the view.

  “The water closet is behind the bed, through the door,” Marie said. “If you need anything please let me know. Men don’t always think of a lady’s comfort.”

  “Very true.” Iris wasn’t sure what to say. The cabin, more spacious than any she’d seen pictures of, flabbergasted her with its lushness.

  “Oh, and Mister Bledsoe said your maid wasn’t able to come?”

  “No.” Sophie and her deception seemed so far away now.

  “Then I will attend to you. You’ll only be here one night. Less since we’ll be landing early in the morning so you can be set on your way under cover of darkness.” Marie shook her head but didn’t voice an opinion of their itinerary.

  “Thank you. If you could show me a simple hairstyle I could do myself, I would be very grateful.”

  “Of course, Miss. It’s nice to meet a young lady who’s willing to do for herself, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

  Iris raised her eyebrows but suspected Marie wasn’t asking her permission to “say so”. She decided it would be now or never.

  “You’re much stronger than my last maid,” she said to breach the subject. “Do you have extra training?”

  “Well, now that you mention it, Miss, I do have some training in basic martial arts—that’s ways of fighting—and some sharp-shooting. Mister Cobb likes his staff to be able to defend themselves in case we encounter air pirates or other problems.”

  “I see.” Iris wondered what sort of adventures the young woman had seen. Would a position like that be an option for her should this expedition not work out? Probably not since the reason it wouldn’t, meaning she wouldn’t get paid, would be if Bledsoe revealed her deception or if she was otherwise found out. No one would hire a liar.

  “Begging your pardon, Miss, but your earlier question startled me. Would you mind overmuch if I asked Mister Cobb if I could accompany you on your journey as your maid?” Marie clasped her hands in front of her. “In spite of all my training, I haven’t had any chance for adventure, and you need someone to keep you company with those gentlemen and to help you along.”

  “Have you done much in the way of service for other women on journeys?” Iris asked.

  “I’m the maid Mister Cobb’s special friends usually ask for,” Marie said with a proud tilt to her chin. Iris didn’t ask what the nature of the “special friends” was. She was pretty sure she could guess—women along the lines of Bledsoe’s actress friend, the one whose hairpins she now borrowed. The hairpins she couldn’t manage to install herself.

  “I’m afraid I didn’t bring enough money with me to pay for a maid,” Iris told her.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure Mister Cobb will pay for my expenses and salary. He’s very eager for this expedition to go well.”

  “I’m sure he is.” And I’m sure he would like to have someone with us who could report back to him. A thunk against the glass made Iris start, and she put a hand to her skirt, where the golden case sat in a sewn-in pocket. Its now familiar shape and bulk comforted her and reminded her that having a maid with extra guard training might be helpful, regardless of her true purpose.

  “Don’t worry, Miss. That’s the mooring ropes being pulled up. Sometimes the wind makes ’em hit the windows. We’re on our way.”

  Indeed, the floor moved beneath Iris’s feet, and a wave of disorientation at seeing the land drop away from them swept over her. She stumbled to the bed and sat but didn’t take her eyes off the windows.

  “First flight?” Marie asked.

  Iris nodded, then closed her eyes against the dizziness the motion brought on and opened them when it became worse. She focused on a fixed point in the room, the small clothes press against the wall. “I’ve always wanted to, but I’ve never had the opportunity. My father often spoke of it, though.”

  “It’s hard for the mind to get used to things changing in different directions,” Marie said. “You’re used to things going back and forth, not up and down.”

  “You’re very right. Let’s use this journey as a trial period, and if I find your services to be satisfactory and Mister Cobb gives his permission and agrees to pay, you may accompany us.”

  “Thank you, Miss. You won’t regret it. I’ll fetch you something to settle your stomach.” After a quick curtsy, she left, and Iris lay back on the bed and watched the ceiling. She hoped she wouldn’t feel so unsettled the entire trip.

  The laboratory Parnaby Cobb set up for Edward was everything he could have dreamed of for high-altitude experiments and more. His only regret was that he would have less than twenty-four hours to use it.

  “Best get to work, then,” Cobb told him with a pat on his shoulder.

  Edward found the American to be congenial enough, but with too big a personality to tolerate for long periods of time. Thankfully the laboratory had been equipped with windows so he could see the ground fall away when they took off, and he watched, fascinated like a small boy getting his first glimpse of the ocean, as the white caps of the waves faded into the blue of
the channel. The best part? His stomach seemed more amenable to this sort of travel than to the rocking of a boat. In fact, once he got all his gear organized but before he started his first procedure, he decided he wanted a little snack. Cobb had given him directions to the kitchen—galley, he corrected himself—and dining room, where there would always be tea and scones. His eating schedule had already been disrupted for the day, so what would be the harm in one more unscheduled snack?

  He found the galley soon enough. Although the sugar cubes had been split, there wasn’t any warm cream, so he moved to the office and raised his hand to knock and ask if any was available or if they would mind if he were to make some. Voices came through the door.

  “…agree?” Cobb asked.

  Edward paused. Who was he talking to and who was to agree?

  “Yes.”

  Edward thought he recognized the voice of the maid Mary, or was it Marie? Who were they talking about?

  “You have your orders for when they find it.”

  “Yes sir. Best I go regardless. The Clockworkers had all kinds of little beasties snooping around the train. We had to use the rifles.”

  “They’re suspicious. Taft and Gunner will make a full report, I’m sure. Now come show me how much you’re going to miss me.”

  “I told her I’d come back with something to settle her stomach. She’s expecting me. I’m on trial, remember?”

  “Fine, you can show me tonight.”

  The sound of kissing made Edward pull a face, and he moved away from the door and toward the other one that led to the galley itself. He’d warm his own cream, thank you very much. In fact, he was in the process of doing so when Marie came out of the office, her face flushed, and straightening her pinafore.

  “Are you finding everything, Professor?” she asked and put a pot of water on the stove to boil.

  “Yes, thank you,” he said and gestured to the pot in front of him.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Mister Cobb told me you like your cream heated, and I forgot. I’ll make sure to have some available for you.”

  “Thank you. Is Miss McTavish settled in?”

  “She’s got airsickness. Happens occasionally to first-time flyers. I’m making her some peppermint tea. She’ll be feeling much better in a bit.” She cast a glance at him through her lashes, and he recognized the female “fishing for information” look. His sister-in-law had given it to him often enough when she’d first caught his brother’s eye.

  “And Mister Bledsoe?” he asked to show he was interested in the welfare of all of his traveling companions.

  “I imagine he’s also snug in his cabin. Mister Taft showed him to his room.”

  The little bubbles that told Edward his milk had reached warm but not scalded appeared around the edges of the pan, and he turned off the heat. “I believe this will do it.”

  “Be careful out there. Sometimes a crosswind catches us and makes the whole thing jolt. If you heat cream again, which you shouldn’t have to, but just in case, don’t leave it unattended on the stove. There’s nothing worse than a fire on a dirigible.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Edward took his milk out to the dining room and set it on a trivet on the sideboard. He fixed his tea with the proper ingredients in the right order and returned to the lab, where he started a burner. With his mind turned to aetherics, he forgot the conversation he overheard.

  The peppermint tea helped settle Iris’s stomach, and she made her way to the lounge. When she opened the door, music from the piano assaulted her. She pushed through the maelstrom of notes and saw Johann Bledsoe at the keyboard. His face reflected the anger apparent in the music, and when he looked up, silence fell at the same time the heat spread from her stomach to her forehead in a flash.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Please keep playing.”

  “Do you know the trouble you’re causing?” Bledsoe asked and punctuated his question with a run ending in a trill. “Do you have any idea of the fire you’re playing with?” Now low notes came from the instrument and swirled in a manner that put Iris in mind of a roaring blaze.

  “He grabbed my hand,” she said and planted her feet as though she stood in the middle of a whirlwind, not sure which direction would provide the next assault, either verbal or musical.

  “Edward is like a child in a lot of ways. He seems insensitive but is easily hurt. That he shared a moment of delight with you shows he’s getting attached.”

  “We’ve barely spoken aside from the day you forced me to help him pack, and I can’t help how he responds to me. Besides, am I that awful of a person?”

  “Asks the woman who is on this journey under false pretenses. Or has your father made the most miraculous of recoveries?”

  Tears came to Iris’s eyes, and she blinked to keep them from revealing how much his words and his sneering tone hurt. “You do not understand my circumstances.”

  “What is there to understand? You’re helpless, can’t even do your own hair, and now you’re looking for someone else to take care of you.”

  “And you think I’m after Professor Bailey?” She walked to the large bank of windows and looked back at Bledsoe over her shoulder. “That’s ridiculous—he can hardly take care of himself.”

  The musician’s hands fell to his lap, and his shoulders slumped. “Yes, that is exactly what I am trying to get across to you. If he is going to marry, he needs someone who is self-sufficient and—”

  “I know, honest.” Iris turned her gaze to the disappearing coast of England and tried to ignore the sinking feeling sliding from her chest to her stomach. She was now un-tethered in almost every sense. She’d lost her father, was in danger of losing her home, and now she was leaving the only country she’d ever known. She placed her fingertips on the glass.

  “You’ve never seen him in a true breakdown,” Bledsoe said. “I have. I fear another one will kill him.”

  “What happened?”

  “A stupid woman thought he was the heir to the Duke’s estates, not his brother. She strung him along, and when she realized her mistake, she very publicly ended their engagement.”

  “A sad story, but it happens.”

  “Ah, but it was his first heartbreak.” The musician came to stand beside her at the window. “He didn’t eat and sleep for days. He was always somewhat normal if a little eccentric with his scientific interests, but after that incident he decided the way to live his life was according to the order and predictability of science. Hence his strict schedule and other quirks that make him difficult to deal with. They’re defensive—they keep life orderly, but they also keep people away.”

  “I understand.” And she did. If she could bring some predictability to her life right now, she would, but she also recognized life was messy and complicated. Her mother had taught her that. “It’s not like him to act impulsively.”

  “Not at all. If we’re to succeed, he needs to remain stable.”

  “Fine.” She turned to leave, and the golden case bumped the window through her skirt.

  “Are you carrying a weapon?” Bledsoe asked.

  “It’s none of your business.”

  She expected him to challenge her, but he shook his head, the dark circles under his eyes apparent in the harsh midday sunlight.

  “You do have the most interesting things in your pockets, Miss McTavish.” And with that, he left her alone in the lounge.

  Chapter Eleven

  Somewhere Over the English Channel, 10 June 1870

  Edward started the two burners and the miniature Watts, engines that would suck the air out of containers and leave only light and aether. He reached to unpack the glass instruments, but a knock on the door interrupted him.

  “Not now,” he called and tried to convey his disgruntlement in the glare he shot at the person who opened the door in spite of his admonishment not to
disturb him. He’d even put a Do Not Disturb—Aetherist at Work sign on the door.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Bledsoe said. “But Cobb wants us in the conference room. He has some information for us he couldn’t share at the university.”

  Edward sighed with his whole torso. “Can’t this wait? I was just getting started.”

  “He timed it according to when I told him you take your afternoon tea,” Johann said. “He’s trying to accommodate you. Might as well return the favor.”

  Edward pulled out his watch and glanced at the dial. Bloody hell, Johann was right. It was teatime, and he suspected it would be the one meal this week that would occur when it should.

  “Very well.” He shut off the burners. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of the hydrogen-filled balloon above them. Or the relative weightlessness. Either way, he was conscious of its high flammability.

  Johann looked across the hall at the set of double doors, which led to the lounge as Edward recalled. He’d studied the schematics and layouts of the major airships at one point in his youth and recognized the design of the Senator as a classic Van de Venden, a Belgian plan. While the Germans were more efficient—they would have put the kitchen and lounge on the same level—the Belgians were more concerned with aesthetics and placed rooms for the best light exposure and views.

  “So what was with the little jog across the landing field?” Johann asked. “That wasn’t like you.”

  Heat came to Edward’s chest and neck, and he adjusted his tie before the blush reached his face—he hoped. “I am aware of that. It was an impulse, nothing more. Aren’t you excited to be on this grand airship? It’s my first time on one.”

  “I’ve traveled on them before when I’ve played in Europe. It’s nicer than the passenger ones, but stop trying to distract me. Are you all right? Is this trip becoming too much for you?”