Captain Andrew's Flying Christmas Read online

Andrew stroked his beard. “And our mothers were best friends, not just our fathers. You are named for my mother.”

  “That’s right. I’d forgotten.” Since Linet Andrew’s death had clearly caused the fatal rift between families, she had tried not to think of the woman too often.

  His long fingers touched the mistletoe on his hat. “I’ve wondered if there was a bit of something between your father and my mother. That’s about the only reason I can come up with for why our fathers’ relationship changed.”

  “We can discuss it over a dish of tea at some point in the future,” Linet said. “But what about Terrwyn? Do you have any ideas?”

  “Oh, yes. We have to get you inside.”

  Her empty stomach burned with a sudden influx of acid. “What?”

  “I couldn’t get in the women’s wards unless I was dressed as a guard, but I think it’s best I remain aboard so we can stay agile in the air.”

  “How?”

  He grinned. “You’re small enough to fit down the chimney outside Terrwyn’s room. You may have noticed we just flew over the prison and took its measure.”

  Her stomach instantly wanted to expel its nonexistent contents. She fought back the nausea. “They’ve got bars inside them to keep the prisoners from using them. No one has escaped through a chimney since Sheppard’s day as far as I know.”

  “I’ve got a tool for that. Something new developed in Germany.” He stood up and offered her a hand. “Come, it’s in the cabin.”

  She ignored his hand and stood, then followed him into the small space. He reached into a chest and pulled out what looked like a beetle. She stifled her gasp of distaste then took a closer look. Brass, about the size of her palm, it had a seam at the mouth and along the back.

  “When you press here, at the top of the head, a tiny engine will engage and the mouth part will open. Make sure you center the device on one end of the metal rod first.”

  “Why?”

  He winked. “It eats iron, attaching itself magnetically as it moves along devouring the metal. Be ready to catch it at the end. The device would fall to the next piece of iron, which would be fine for multiple rods, but it would make noise.”

  “Noise is bad,” she agreed, deciding to listen to his plan. “So if I make it into the common room and find Terrwyn’s room, then what?”

  He reached in again and handed her a set of pick locks.

  “So I get her out of her cell? And back up the chimney? I can’t imagine she’d fit in her condition, even if we have a ladder down to the floor.”

  “No, you’re right. We’ll need to get her out her window.”

  “So I can use this beetle to eat the bars away?”

  “Unlikely. It’s too small to hold enough fuel to eat them all.” He fished in his chest and held out a couple of gaily wrapped cylinders. “A far more elegant solution.”

  “Christmas crackers?”

  “Filled with explosives. Pull one open, expose the wick, light it, then throw it at the window and duck. Should take out the bars, or the wall.”

  “Or both,” Linet said. “My father invented those.”

  “I know. Based on the grenade, a weapon you don’t see anymore.”

  “Your father and mine used to love to discuss the history of weaponry. I thought it was so boring.”

  “Females.” He handed her a small paper booklet.

  “What’s this?”

  “A matchbook. American, a brand-new design.” He opened it for her. “Tear off a match, then strike it on the rough part outside.”

  “Handy.”

  “Yes, that should do it, I think. We’ll hover nearby and drop the ladder along the external wall when we hear the explosion. You just need to get both of you on it, then away we’ll go.”

  “You think this plan will work?” Once again, she wondered at his motives for such danger. “Wouldn’t you rather hole up somewhere and drink contraband brandy?”

  “Would you?”

  “Of course not. We, I mean I, need to get Terrwyn out of there before the baby is born. Now that I know she’s alive, I won’t be able to rest until she’s safe.”

  “I agree.”

  “But why are you helping us? Some guilt for your father’s actions?”

  “Let’s call it that, shall we?” He closed the lid. “Take the bed, get some rest. We can’t make our move until it’s dark, but on a day like today that’s only about seven hours from now.”

  She stared at him. “Will this plan work?”

  “Newgate is crumbling in its old age, and understaffed on Christmas. We’ll be daring and fast. You’ll be eating goose at the Conqueror’s Table tonight and swapping war stories with the rest of the crew.”

  “You have a lot of faith in a housemaid.”

  “I have a lot of faith in Linet Fenna. You can’t tell me this isn’t your heart’s desire.”

  Her eyes widened. “Of course it is! I want my sister safe.”

  He leaned forward until the shadow of his hat darkened her view of the room and bussed her on the cheek. She turned to him, thoroughly shocked and he, thief that he was, took the opportunity to caress her mouth with his own surprisingly soft lips. His hot cinnamon breath invaded her senses, but her hands, more sensible than her nerves, pressed at his chest.

  “Do not confuse me,” she begged. “I need a clear head. You cannot imagine what it does to me knowing that an Andrew is the master of my fate.”

  His mouth widened into a smile both less boisterous and more sincere than his usual grin. “I understand. Rest now.”

  Linet agreed and stretched out on his bed as he left the cabin, trying to ignore the potent scent of him in the blankets. Despite every reason not to, she fell asleep, only to wake screaming, with the distant memory of fire. Falling into a fire.

  She sat up. She had dropped into a fireplace in her dream. What about the flames? Flames? She scrubbed her eyes, trying to bring sense into her sleep-tangled thoughts, then went to the porthole and looked out to see what time it was. Probably an hour before dark in this sooty, winter-time city.

  She couldn’t believe she’d slept Christmas Day away. Her only ambition this year had been to get through all her duties before midnight, difficult when so many guests were present. What present had the family given the servants this year? Fabric for new dresses, most likely, and nothing so fine as this French half-mourning finery she’d worn today.

  She splashed water on her face from a pitcher, then dried her face on a towel and peeked out the door to see if she could locate Hatchet to tell her what time it was. Instead, Captain Andrew passed by, and when he saw her, he chuckled.

  “You slept the day away, sweetheart.”

  “I’m not your sweetheart.”

  “I do apologize.” The corner of his mouth tilted up. “When I see a sleepy-eyed lady emerging from my own bedchamber it’s an automatic term of endearment.”

  “Pig.” The word came out without malice. She had too much to worry about.

  He took the door from her hand and used his big body to cow her back into the space, then shut it.

  “That dress won’t do for a chimney drop.”

  “An expert in the art form, are you?”

  “Not since I was a lad.” He flexed his shoulders as if to remind her how broad they were.

  “What should I wear?”

  “Trousers and a jacket decorated with a bit of rag so you look like you fit in. We want you to appear as one of the prisoners to a casual glance, after all.” He took a bundle from the dining table and handed it to her.

  She took it, glad the fabric didn’t smell. “How do we know the fire in the fireplace will be extinguished?”

  “We’ll watch for smoke, of course.”

  She wanted to wipe the pleasant expression from his face. Dying like one of Bloody Mary’s heretics did not appeal to her. “Do you have a gadget for putting out a fire?”

  His teeth flashed. “I suppose you could take a pitcher of water with you, but you’ll need
your hands to climb.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious.”

  “I doubt a fire has been lit there in years. We didn’t see smoke when we passed overhead this morning. This is Newgate Prison after all, not a country house. Didn’t you see the chilblains on your sister’s fingers? She doesn’t have the look of someone who is sleeping near a warm fire.”

  “No. I was too overwhelmed to notice.”

  “Glad I was with you?”

  She pushed pride aside. “I wouldn’t have made it out of the alley without you and you know it. I don’t know why you’re doing this but for now I am your grateful servant.”

  He passed over both her thanks and her implied question. “Besides, the prison is actually warmed by a flue system heated by steam. Clearly doesn’t work very well, but the fireplace should be safe enough.”

  “I will take you at your word.”

  He nodded to her and left so she could dress. After she buttoned up the trousers, she found herself sinking onto the chair. What if this was the ultimate betrayal? Might this be Andrew’s way to secure both Fenna sisters in Newgate? Try as she might, her three-year hatred of the Andrew family had lost some of its power. If he wanted her gone he could have tossed her overboard, had a Blockader ready to take her in the pub where she was clearly out without her papers, even done something at the prison to have them take her into custody. No, his game had to be deeper than this. He wanted both sisters free.

  Could she assume the son was trying to reverse the damage done to her family by the father? If so, why wouldn’t he tell her so plainly?

  Her mood improved after she finished dressing. She danced a little jig in her father’s cabin. The freedom brought her back to her youth. But when she glanced in the small mirror, she saw a woman’s face, not a girl’s, and the thought sobered her instantly. This was not the early Eighties, before the Blockaders had become so strong and dangerous.

  With a sense of resolve, she left the cabin after pocketing her equipment and found Andrew at the wheel.

  “I am as ready as I’ll ever be,” she told him when he raised an eyebrow.

  “Five minutes until we are over the chimney,” said the first mate.

  Linet swallowed hard. Could she really be about to dangle her body over a fire? She wished she’d seen those chilblains for herself. Would her sister’s jailers truly leave a pregnant woman in such conditions?

  Of course they would, if she had no money. But what of the father of her child? Wouldn’t he help? What if he was there when she arrived, an able-bodied guard? She squeezed her eyes shut. She’d be locked up with Terrwyn. At least she probably wouldn’t be there long before her execution.

  “Stay above range,” Andrew warned the first mate.

  “Aren’t you going to pilot this thing?” she asked.

  “No, I’ll stay at the ladder in case you need me to shoot someone. Of course I’m going to pilot.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “We’re going to drop the ladder into the chimney. Climb as low as you can, let the beetle eat the iron bars, then keep climbing. Our quartermaster had a holiday in Newgate some time ago and figured the chimney length for us. You shouldn’t have to drop more than five feet, but we can’t let the ladder be seen.”

  “Right.”

  “Once you’re in, tiptoe to the right and pick open Terrwyn’s cell. With any luck, you’ll be unobserved since she’s the first inmate. Then, light a cracker and throw it at the window. The bars will blast out. Push her bed to the opening and help her climb.”

  “How long do you need to get into place?”

  “We’ll hover above the wall as soon as you’re off the ladder, and drop down when we see the explosion. We have to ascend quickly since we’ll be behind the wall of the prison. But if we move fast, we can get out without being hit.”

  “No sign of any Blockade airships,” Hatchet said, running up the ladder. “All clear.”

  “Let’s do this.” Andrew grinned at Linet. “Have the time of your life. You’ll be telling your grandurchins about this adventure.”

  “Do you think it’s dark enough?”

  “Go,” he said, his expression sharpening. “It’s time.”

  Linet took a deep breath and slid down the ladder onto the deck, then ran lightly to the starboard side. With a nod from her, two crewmen hefted the ladder into the ancient chimney at one end of the women’s ward. They coughed as old coal dust wafted from the darkened bowels of the brick rectangle.

  She hadn’t considered until now that she’d be working in the dark.

  “Glad it’s not me,” said the first crewman, with a shake of his head.

  “Good luck to you, Miss Fenna,” said the second.

  “Thank you, Glen.” As Linet went over the edge, she saw Andrew saluting her jauntily while Hatchet smirked. She wondered if the girl actually hoped she’d die.

  As she descended into the dank chimney, she wished she had another hand free to clasp a handkerchief to her nose. Soot and gummy, foul-smelling creosote encrusted the mortar. The only light was a pinprick above and a pinprick below. She estimated she’d dropped about six feet when she touched the first iron bar. Following Andrew’s instructions, she set the little metal creature at one end, ignited the engine, and then sat on the rung of a ladder to let it work.

  At first, nothing seemed to be happening, then it began to glow dimly. She heard a tiny chitter and the bar dropped away. It clanged loudly against the bricks below her. She dropped a couple of rungs down the rope ladder and snatched the creature off the iron. The beetle was warm to the touch but not too hot to hold.

  Another ten feet down she found another iron bar and repeated her actions, but this time she descended below the chittering metal beast and caught the decaying iron bar before it hit the wall. Heavier than she expected, it slammed her arm against the filthy wall and the beetle came free from the iron and tangled in her raggedy jacket. She shrieked and slapped at the warm thing with her free hand. It fell away. Only grabbing the iron bar with her fist where it trapped her against the wall saved her from a similar fate.

  She reached for the ladder with her free hand and clung to it with prayers on her lips. Thankfully, the base of the fireplace must have been covered with old soot because the beetle’s descent was relatively soundless, though not so much that a passerby wouldn’t have noticed. But at this hour, after five p.m. no one seemed present in the common room. Andrew had hoped the prisoners were in their cells with what passed for meals here, and perhaps he had been right.

  When Linet reached the last rung of the ladder, still a man’s height off of the ground, she cupped one ear with a hand and leaned forward, listening. The beetle gleamed dully beneath her, chittering as it munched on the iron grate meant to hold wood back in the old days before the steam flues had been put in.

  Her body was poised to drop to the ground when she heard footfalls. Heavy footfalls, as if from nailed boots. A guard. Scarcely daring to breathe, she wondered if she could climb back up in time if the guard noticed the metal beast.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  More prayers. Sweat formed a moustache above Linet’s lip. But the guard passed by, with nary a hitch in his gait. Without waiting for more miracles, Linet dropped lightly to the ground and came up ankle deep in charred wood. She snatched the beetle from the grate and shoved it into her pocket, then peered out of the fireplace into a large, grimy room.

  The sound of another nailed boot had her huddling back into the fireplace. From her position just inside, she watched as an old woman pushed a cart covered in dirty pewter dishes. Linet swore in frustration. They had started this operation a little too early.

  By the time the woman had passed, Linet had her trajectory planned to the first cell. She felt a gust above her and saw the ladder going up the chimney. The crewmen must have felt her weight leave it and decided to pull it out.

  Either that or they’d been spotted and had to leave the area quickly. Why hadn’t they discussed a contingency p
lan? Again, she wondered if Andrew had meant to leave her here all along. But this was no time for second guessing. She had to believe his kisses meant he cared for her. Time to move.

  She stepped out of the fireplace and spotted her destination, the corridor leading away from the chamber, then broke into a silent run, reaching her sister’s presumed cell in the space of a heartbeat. The iron bars stretched from floor to ceiling between slimy brick walls and the door was locked. Behind lay a dark brick rectangle, smothered by gloom scarcely broken by a high window at the far end, but she heard quickened breathing.

  Fingering the set of pick locks in her jacket pocket, she said softly, “Terrwyn?”

  “What?” came a whisper.

  She couldn’t be sure it was her sister, but there was no time. She could still hear the wheeled cart ahead of her, moving slower than she’d expected. She worked on the lock, grateful for the fingerless gloves that covered her sweaty hands. Thirty seconds later she was in, carefully closing the barred door behind her.

  She heard heavy footsteps and fumbled in her trouser pocket for the matches. When she pulled a match from her American booklet and struck it against the black panel, she saw her sister, her chapped lips rounded in shock.

  “Are you mad?” Her sister leaned forward and blew out the match.

  Linet found one of the Christmas crackers. “We’ve no time.”

  “I was going to try to get out in the middle of the night.”

  “We weren’t sure you could make it. Turn your face to the inside wall. We need to move quickly.”

  Her sister obeyed and Linet pulled a second match from her American booklet and lit it. She set the flame to the edge of the gaily swirled red and green paper, waited for it to catch and then threw the Christmas cracker against the bars high in the wall.

  How were they going to get up there? She had no time for another thought, as the fire reached the powder.

  The ensuing explosion didn’t just take out the bars, but a hefty couple wheelbarrows’ full of bricks too. The space was big enough to maneuver Terrwyn through, if she could get her up to it.

  “Help me push your mattress,” Linet said, coughing mortar dust out of her lungs with every word.