Recipe for Treason Part 30

"Even to my own ears the story sounds more outrageous than Mr. Walpole's book The Castle of Otranto," interjected Sophia. "Nonetheless, it's all true."

"I am acquainted with Le Chaze. He occasionally comes to watch our maneuvers," said Sadler, finally rousing himself to speech. "We all find him a rather irritating, arrogant fellow. Always boasting about how, as opposed to us, his countrymen do things with Gallic flair."

"He said English aeronauts are afraid of the dark," murmured Arianna.

Sadler let out an indignant huff. "Ha, the impertinent Frog! Le Chaze is showy, but there is little substance beneath his bravado. I would like to see him try to navigate at night-he probably doesn't know Venus from Mars."

"I hope not. The quicker we can catch him, the better," responded Arianna. "Speaking of which, there's not a moment more to lose. We need to inflate your balloon and launch now."

Sadler shook his head. "I am just as afire to go after them as you are, Lady Saybrook. But the sad fact is that we can't."

"Why not?" demanded Arianna.

"The other aeronauts have all left for the day, and Windham has gone to the neighboring village to pick up a fresh batch of pine tar. It's impossible for me to get the balloon ready by myself, so we are grounded until he returns. And even if I could manage it, I need to have an a.s.sistant to stoke the fire for a trip of this length."

Arianna and Sophia exchanged a look. "We can serve as your a.s.sistants," they both chorused.

"Good heavens, I don't think . . . Surely you can't mean . . ." He shook his head. "Not to be indelicate, ladies, but the job requires, er, muscle."

"Mr. Sadler, I am tougher than I might look," replied Arianna. "And I've a great deal of experience in handling ropes, having crewed on smuggling ships in the West Indies."

"And I've driven an open phaeton from London to Gretna Green, which requires both muscle and stamina," added Sophia. "We're not afraid of soiling our lily-white hands." She held up her sc.r.a.ped palms and smiled sweetly. "See?"

He blinked several times in rapid-fire succession, and the air seemed to leak out of his protests. "Make no mistake, it will be hard work," he cautioned.

They nodded.

"And very dangerous."

"That goes without saying," replied Arianna.

He pursed his lips. "One last thing. Once we catch up to them, how do you intend to stop them?"

"I'll shout a warning, and order them to descend."

His brows winged up in skepticism.

From her coat pockets, she carefully drew out the expensive dueling pistols she had brought along from the carriage. "These are deadly accurate, and I know how to use them."

"In that case, we may also want this." Sadler marched over to a nearby cabinet and took out a short-barreled rifle. "And this." He added a large pair of iron tongs to the sack containing bullets and gunpowder.

"What's that for?" asked Sophia.

"Heating the lead to a red-hot glow over the fire before we load our weapons," he answered grimly. "Le Chaze flies a Charlier balloon, which is filled with hydrogen-an extremely flammable gas."

Arianna had once witnessed a dockyard explosion. She forced herself not to recall the smells of singed canvas and charred flesh. "An excellent suggestion," she answered coolly. "The traitors cannot be allowed to reach France."

"Then we had better start putting your nautical experience to the test, Lady Saybrook." Sadler gestured at Sophia. "Your companion-"

"Miss Kirtland," supplied Arianna.

"Miss Kirtland had better gather up some additional clothing for the flight." His hand flicked to a line of pegs on the wall, from which hung an array of heavy leather garments. "Windham is not too much larger than you are. Help yourself to some of his flight gear-and be sure to take gauntlets and fur-lined helmets. It's going to be b.l.o.o.d.y cold up there."

Without further ado, he maneuvered the cart holding the balloon's gondola basket under the huge pulley. "We need to attach the top of the balloon to this heavy line," he explained, lowering the hook with a few slow turns of a winch. "I'll need you to spread the guidelines out while I ratchet the fabric up a few notches. That will allow the balloon to inflate when I stoke up the fire."

Arianna eyed the dimensions of the warehouse double doors as she hurried to perform her duties. "But surely it won't fit through the opening?"

"I'll fill it just enough to keep the fabric and lines from getting into a hopeless tangle before taking it out to the launching field. Normally we do this whole procedure outdoors, but it takes a full crew of fliers, so I thought I had better improvise."

That the aeronaut was quick-thinking and flexible was a stroke of luck-Arianna imagined that they would be called upon to react with lightning speed in the coming hours.

"Miss Kirtland, please fetch one of the horses from the stalls. We'll need to move the cart in a matter of minutes."

Sadler started a fire in the metal stove and continued to bark out a series of orders, directing his new crew members on how to guide the balloon through the doors and peg out the ropes so the huge sack could begin to inflate to its full dimensions.

Slowly, slowly, the undulating fabric began to take its proper shape.

"Get the horse and cart inside, then hurry back," called Stadler over the din of the flapping ropes and rattling metal. "The wind is rising! We need to cast off quickly!"

Arianna helped Sophia into the wickerwork gondola basket, then made a rather inelegant entry as a sudden lurch sent her sprawling headfirst into the interior. Righting herself, she tugged at the lines, giving Stadler a hand in releasing the knots.

With a last little shudder, the balloon shimmied sideways before steadying its sway and rising up, up, up toward the heavens.

"Someone is coming," said Henning in a low whisper. He set down his cup and c.o.c.ked an ear.

A brush of wool, barely audible, on stone.

The earl heard it too and pinched out the candles, leaving the room lit by only the banked coals in the hearth. Pressing a finger to lips, he signaled Cayley to take shelter in the small alcove behind the fireplace.

Another sound, this one the faint scuff of leather. The intruder was at the top of the stairs.

Henning had taken up a position beside the doorway, his back pressed against the rough wall. The earl was just creeping up to the other side of the half-open portal when a flash of fire and deafening blast erupted from the landing.

A deadly hail of buckshot splintered the table and shattered the window gla.s.s. With the echo still reverberating against the stones, the intruder flung the door wide and let loose with a second volley that peltered the hearth with a rain of lead.

Henning lashed a hard kick that knocked the double-barreled coach gun from the intruder's hand. Snarling, the man spun away and whipped a pistol from his waistband.

Sparks flashed; a plume of pale smoke shivered in the aftershock of the bang.

The man dropped his arm and then fell face-first to the floor.

"At this rate, my surgery will be filled with enough cadavers for dissection to last into the next decade," Henning quipped, watching a dark stain spread between the corpse's shoulder blades.

"Be grateful one of them isn't yours," said the earl. Brushing grits of gunpowder from his fingers, he turned. "Sir George?"

"All in one piece, Lord Saybrook." The inventor peered around the corner. "This Renard fellow seems to have changed his mind about carrying me off to France."

The earl began to reload his pistol. "So it would seem." He looked up at Henning. "Stoughton's arrest must have spooked him into flight."

"Aye." The surgeon made a face. "Taking with him the detailed plans of the flying machine."

"Can't we stop him?" asked Cayley.

"Not unless you can conjure up a flying carpet," growled Saybrook. "There are countless coves along this coast, and countless smugglers willing to make a trip across the Channel, no questions asked. I would be willing to wager a fortune that the Fox is already sailing toward France."

Steadying herself on the rail of the basket, Arianna felt her pulse quicken as she gazed out at the scene unfurling beneath her feet. The views were absolutely breathtaking. Off in the distance London rose in spiky splendor, glimmers of gaslight winking amid the pale stone spires and towers. She could just make out Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral and the silvery, snaking water of the river Thames.

"Oh, I can see the appeal of this," she murmured, lifting her face to the wind. The setting sun was painting the clouds in muted hues of orange-gold streaked with pinks and purple. "It is wondrous."

The sense of silence was otherworldly- "Kindly take a step back from the rail, Lady Saybrook. You are throwing the balance off," called Sadler. Moving with an unconscious grace, he circled the centered burner, carefully adjusting the position of the ballast bags within the rigging.

"Please explain what you are doing," said Arianna, "so I can help you."

"The basket must be kept at an even trim to fly properly. Allow a tilt and a gust of wind might tip it over and send us plummeting to our death." He indicated a maze of cording attached to cleats, s.p.a.ced at various intervals around the basket. "We must constantly adjust the sandbags that serve as ballast. This changes the alt.i.tude and lets us catch currents or avoid turbulence. The key is to gauge the winds properly. A downdraft can cause a crash."

She sucked in a lungful of air. "I will do my best to follow your orders, sir."

He patted at the series of valves on the burner. "We also adjust the flow of hot air to control our rise and fall."

Sophia was already on her knees, stoking the flames with chunks of fuel, as she had been shown.

"I may have to be a little brusque," he warned both of them. "Here in the heavens, one can't afford to stand on ceremony-not when there's naught but swirling air beneath your feet, ha, ha, ha."

"Ha, ha, ha," echoed Arianna, brushing a wildly dancing hank of hair from her cheek. "You warned us that we were not here as pleasure pa.s.sengers." Another gust buffeted her face. "Hmmph, you were right," she said, plucking an errant curl from her mouth. "It is a little chilly up here."

"And it's going to get a great deal colder," replied Sadler. "But don't worry. You two will keep plenty warm with all the shoveling required to keep us aloft."

"Speaking of which," she said dryly, squatting down to exchange places with Sophia. "It's my turn to feed the fire."

"Thank you." Rising slowly, so as not to rock the gondola, Sophia blotted the sweat from her brow. "I, too, have some questions. How do you judge your alt.i.tude and direction? I have been looking around for a compa.s.s."

"It's here," answered Sadler, tapping at a binnacled instrument fastened to a block beneath the lip of the railing. "One tends to b.u.mp into things when the winds get a little rough. As for alt.i.tude . . ." He produced a beautifully crafted barometer from a padded leather case strapped to one of the gondola's struts. "This precision instrument measures atmospheric pressure and thus serves as an altimeter." His fingers drew a fond caress along the length of gla.s.s. "It was a gift from the great Dr. Samuel Johnson, who bequeathed it to me after hearing how I lost all my scientific implements in an early balloon crash."

"Let us hope it helps us avoid a similar fate," quipped Sophia, looking a little uneasy. Though at home on the back of a galloping horse, she seemed far less comfortable with the constant rocking motion of the gondola.

"I always fly with it, and consider it a good luck talisman," said Sadler. He made a quick reading, then put it back in its holder. "Besides, I am very good at what I do."

"So I have heard," said Arianna. "I'm told that no one has ever duplicated your feat of relaunching a balloon from the sea."

"The conditions happened to be just right," he said modestly.

Sophia cast a scientist's critical gaze over the rigging and the canopy overhead. "I would imagine there is a limit to the weight we can carry in relation to the size of the balloon."

"Indeed, there is." A twinkle lit in Sadler's eye. "I daresay you are both too young to remember the first ascent of a female in a balloon. It happened in 'eighty-five."

"I vaguely recall my governess telling me about it," answered Sophia. "Her name was Mrs. Sage, was it not? She was . . . an actress?"

"Indeed," said Sadler. "And she put on quite a performance. The great Lunardi had a flair for showmanship and he had decided that a female aeronaut would bring out crowds for the planned ascent. So he and a wealthy young man by the name of George Biggin invited Mrs. Sage to be part of the group." He paused to look up and check the set of the rigging. "However, the actress had fibbed about her weight and the balloon couldn't lift off."

Sophia stifled a laugh. "Honestly, he should have known better than to ask any female to be truthful about her weight or her age."

A grin twitched at his mouth. "Ever the gentleman, Lunardi jumped out and allowed Biggin and Mrs. Sage to fly off. However, he omitted to lace up the door. The actress realized the danger and had to scrabble about on the floor to fix the matter"-his grin grew more p.r.o.nounced-"which set off a great deal of speculation on whether the couple had engaged in, shall we say, amorous activities while in the air."

"It's a good thing I didn't drink any more of Senora Delgado's rich chocolate drinks," said Arianna, once her chuckling had died down. "Else you might have had to leave me behind."

"They are quite marvelous," said Sadler. "As are her confections. I am a baker by trade, and her creations are most unusual. I would never have guessed that chocolate could be eaten in solid form."

"You and I are going to have some interesting conversations, once we are at leisure to discuss the subject," said Arianna. "But let us not stray from the topic of balloons."

"I am curious. Are there any females who possess an expertise in flying?" asked Sophia.

"Very few," replied Sadler. "I can't think of any, save for Blanchard's wife. He is the renowned daredevil aeronaut who made the first crossing of the Channel. She is equally daring, seeing as she specializes in aerial fireworks displays."

Despite her heavy gloves, Arianna could feel the heat of the fire p.r.i.c.kling at her hands. "I would call that dangerous, as well as daring," she mused.

"Yes, well, like men, some women appear drawn to danger." The pattern of the rigging, a crisscrossing of dark on dark lines, cut across his face, hiding his expression in the fading light. "Like a moth to a flame."

"There's a difference between being willing to face danger and feeling compelled to create it," said Arianna slowly.

"Sometimes it's a fine line between the two."

Sadler was very perceptive, she realized. Perhaps too much so.

"I suppose, sir, that your eye is attuned to see the smallest nuances. A tiny flutter of wind, a slight drop in temperature, a change in the texture of the clouds-such things can mean the difference between life and death for an aeronaut."

"Yes," he replied. "One must be observant."

"You think we will be able to spot our quarry in this vast expanse of sky?" At the mention of the word "observant," Sophia looked around doubtfully. "It seems akin to trying to find a needle in a haystack, especially with night coming on."

"I know where Le Chaze keeps his balloon." Sadler reached into a leather pouch secured beneath the railing and pulled out a small bra.s.s telescope. Snapping it open, he began scanning the heavens. "Trust me, we'll see him and your pair of renards. Darkness will not afford them any cover for escape. The moon is full tonight, and besides, there are prevailing air currents. He doesn't have a great many choices."

"d.a.m.n, I nearly forgot-the map!" Arianna quickly exchanged places with Sophia. "I found this on the traitor's desk." She handed over the copy she had made of the coastlines and the squiggling red line. "It made no sense to me, but I figured it must have some meaning."

Stadler studied it for a moment, a small smile slowly wreathing his face. "It does indeed. This helps us conserve our fuel, as we need not circle up and down the coast looking to pick up his trail. According to this, he's going to use the western route."

Arianna watched the burnt gold glow hovering on the horizon begin to fade. "What if Le Chaze changes his mind?"

"I doubt that he will, given the earlier barometer reading. We'll continue on this course for another quarter of an hour. If we don't see anything, we'll double back and cruise to the east."

Shifting her stance, she slapped her palms together, trying to contain her impatience. Waiting always set her nerves on edge.

"Halloo, I've just spotted the Fox!" Stadler shifted several bags of ballast, the starlight catching the gleam of excitement in his eyes. "Add another twist of straw to the fire. The chase is on."