A Heart in Flight (18 page)

“Yes,” Ranfield replied. “All summer you have been touting the advantages of the hydrogen balloon. Now I challenge you to put it to the test.”

She frowned. This was not like him. Usually he accepted whatever she said about flight. “But how?”

“We’ll go up together. And whoever reaches the other side of the meadow first is the winner. The loser will concede that the winner’s choice of propellant is the better.”

This scheme was patently ridiculous. “But that will prove nothing ...”

He gazed at her over the rim of his cup. “Are you reluctant to put your beliefs to the test?”

“Of course not.”

He was behaving so strangely. Last evening at dinner he had been silent, hardly saying a word. And now this morning he was overflowing with good spirits.

“But I cannot race,” she said. “I promised Uncle Arthur not to go up alone.”

He waved an expansive hand. “You won’t be alone. I’ll be going up, too.”

“But you’ll be in the other balloon.”

“That will be sufficient. I’ve spoken to your uncle, and he agrees that for this once it is permissible.”

He finished a tremendous plate of ham, eggs, biscuits, and marmalade and emptied his cup. Smiling, he got to his feet. “This afternoon then. Immediately after lunch.”

She watched him stride away, so strong, so handsome. And so irritating. She would never understand such a man. But then, what did it matter? After Phoebe and Harold were married, they would return to London—the four of them. And she would devote her life to aeronautical pursuits. At least she would have Phoebe’s company.

She looked across the table to where Phoebe was leaning close to Harold. The two looked so happy together. Aurelia swallowed a lump that had risen suddenly in her throat. Phoebe could not have had anything to do with this race idea. She was too engrossed in Harold. Still ... “Phoebe, may I speak with you?”

Harold grinned and kissed Phoebe’s cheek. “Papa’s waiting for me in the shed. I’ll meet you there later.”

Phoebe jumped to her feet and came to give Aurelia a hug. “Oh, it’s above all wonderful! We are really and truly going to be married.”

“Yes, my dear. But about this race. What do you know about this race?”

“Why nothing, nothing at all. That is, no more than you. But it sounds like fun. Harold says hydrogen is the best for distance. And hot air for short hops.”

Aurelia nodded. “He’s right. That’s why this race will prove very little. Are you sure you had nothing to do with this?”

Phoebe looked aggrieved. “Aurelia, I told you ... But isn’t it strange. Almost like Providence had arranged it.” She lowered her voice. “Now, if you were to go off course and come down. Well, who’s to say ...?”

Aurelia frowned. “Phoebe, I told you. No more rescues.”

“But you know what happened when the dark stranger rescued Corrinne.” She dimpled. “And it was our rescue from the caves that convinced Harold. He told me so himself. He said he was quite frantic with worry and then he realized he loved me.”

Aurelia sighed. “Yes, Phoebe. I admit it worked for you. But Ranfield has no partiality for me. It was all the daydream of some silly young women.”

“But The Plan ...”

With effort, Aurelia crushed a rising inclination to scream. “The Plan was a mistake, the worst mistake of my entire life.”

Phoebe put a hand to her temple. “How can you say such a horrid thing? Why, it brought Harold and me together.”

Aurelia turned away in exasperation. There was little sense in continuing this conversation, not with Phoebe so set in her thoughts.

“I’m going to meet Mama,” Phoebe called after her. “She’s promised to come the next time someone goes up. But do think about what I’ve said.”

Gazing after her, Aurelia frowned. It would be an easy matter to go off course. Still ...

Chapter Eighteen

They arrived at the meadow in two carriages. Aurelia and Ranfield in the curricle and Phoebe, Cousin Prudence, Uncle Arthur, and Harold in the phaeton. Aurelia was surprised to see Uncle Arthur help Phoebe’s mama down. She was even more surprised to see them smiling at each other. They must have reached some kind of truce.

The change that had been wrought in Mrs. Esterhill seemed the next thing to miraculous. Aurelia had expected Phoebe’s mama to keep her word, but she had never dreamed she would go about it so happily.

Aurelia stole a glance at the Earl. He had been strangely quiet on the ride, and now his expression was unfathomable.

He turned toward her. “Shall we go?” he asked, gesturing after the others.

“Of course.” She grasped her shawl more firmly and prepared to descend from the curricle. But before she could do so, he was there, reaching a hand to help her.

She laid her fingers in his, swallowing the lump that came to her throat. How was she to live without seeing him? He had so inextricably entwined himself with ballooning that it would always make her think of him. But surely she could not be expected to give that up. too.

She focused her attention on Uncle Arthur. She had never seen him looking so delighted. He looked almost gleeful, escorting Cousin Prudence from one balloon to the other, expounding all the while on the science of air flight.

“I cannot quite believe it,” Aurelia murmured.

Ranfield chuckled. “It appears that Cousin Prudence has undergone a change of heart.”

“It certainly does.”

He gave her a most peculiar smile. “I have heard that love makes people do strange things.”

“No doubt. But to think that Cousin Prudence’s love for her daughter should bring about such a radical change in her beliefs. It is the most amazing thing.”

The Earl’s smile grew more peculiar. “Yes, it is strange. But come, our public awaits us
.”

Hearing them approach, Cousin Prudence turned and favored them with a smile. “Milord, I fear I have been sadly mistaken.”

“How so?” Ranfield inquired.

“It’s this matter of air flight. I am coming to believe the Lord may well be in favor of it.”

Aurelia stared. Phoebe’s mama looked altogether different. It was true that a bonnet gave her face a different dimension than her habitual cap. But there was something else. Her face had softened somehow. It almost glowed.

“Yes,” Cousin Prudence continued. “Arthur has convinced me that flight is practical and safe.”

“Of course, it is. Prudence, my dear.”

Aurelia almost gasped. Arthur? Prudence? When had the two of them come to the use of Christian names?

“But,” Cousin Prudence continued. “It was really the Lord who led me. I opened the Good Book and there it was. Right before my eyes.”

“There
what
was?” the Earl inquired politely.

“Why, the verse of course. It says ‘and you shall mount up with the wings of the eagle.’ These aren’t exactly wings. But the idea’s the same.” She pushed her spectacles up her nose. “Not that I’d ever go up of course.” She hesitated and sent Uncle Arthur a girlish smile. “Leastways, not yet. But I’m convinced the Good Lord has nothing against it.” And she beamed at the man beside her.

Aurelia considered this new development. Could it possibly be that Uncle Arthur and Cousin Prudence had ...? What had Pratt said? That they were up late talking. Well, unlikely as it might seem, it did appear that her uncle and Phoebe’s mama were on new, and rather interesting, terms with each other.

But she had no more time to consider this intriguing information. Uncle Arthur turned to her. “We’re all ready, Aurelia. Now, you’ve got to be careful. You know how hydrogen is on short flights.”

He took her arm and pulled her aside. “I know you want to win this race, but winning ain’t everything. I’m only letting you go up alone because ...” He frowned. “Because this seems so important to the Earl. And it’s a short hop.” He patted her arm. “Don’t put yourself in danger, my dear. We don’t need to win. We
know
hydrogen is better.”

“Yes, Uncle Arthur. I understand.”

Following him to the balloon, Aurelia tried to bring some order out of the chaos of her thoughts. All morning she’d been reminding herself that another accident was out of the question. Another such debacle would set the Earl’s back up permanently. And yet ... The Plan had worked for Phoebe.

Aurelia pressed a hand to her throbbing temple. If only she knew what to do. If only she could be sure.

“Come,” said Harold, giving her his arm. “Ranny is most ready.” He led her toward the balloon. “Now, don’t you worry none,” he said. “It don’t matter if Ranny wins this race. We know hydrogen is better.”

“Why ...”

Harold patted her hand. “No time for that. The balloons are ready. See, here comes Ranny now.”

“But ...” But Harold was already gone, hurrying to Phoebe’s side and tucking her arm through his.

Approaching Aurelia, Ranfield frowned. She looked a little on the green side. “Are you ill?”

She shook her head. “No, no. It’s just the excitement. So, milord. Where is the finish line for this race of yours?”

He gestured. “At the other end of the meadow. My men have spread a red blanket. Anchored it with stones. Are you sure ...?”

“I’m quite well, thank you.”

Her tone was testy and she looked decidedly peaked. But this was not the time to pursue the matter. Perhaps it
was
the excitement of the race. She’d looked fine at breakfast. “Very well, then. Shall we begin?”

“Yes, of course. Harold will help me into the gondola.”

He nodded and made his way to his own balloon. Perhaps he was being foolhardy, trying to arrange the romantic scene she longed for. He wasn’t even sure she was going to follow The Plan. Phoebe thought so. But Phoebe was so lovestruck she was hardly a good judge of anything.

He swung a leg over the side of the basket. He should have arranged a nice ride ... Lord, no, not the way she rode. But perhaps a picnic. Still, with the others around it was almost impossible to get her alone. And he could hardly put the question to her in company.

Damnation! He couldn’t wait much longer. He was going to ask her. This very day. No matter what.

“Ready?” Harold called.

Ranfield looked to her. She was nodding. He waved his own hand.

“Then go!”

The servants released the ropes and slowly the balloons rose. Ranfield, feeding straw to the brazier’s fire, glanced at Aurelia’s balloon. It was rising at about the same speed as his own. He watched her peer over the edge, intent on seeing the red blanket that was their goal.

Could she really love him? Or was Phoebe just imagining the whole thing? But the marks had been there in the book. And Aurelia’s accidents had occurred.

She was testing the air currents. He should be doing the same. He squinted against the sun, trying to make out her features. But she was too far away.

He would have to stay in the same current in order to be there for the final rescue. But what if Phoebe was mistaken? What if Aurelia didn’t fake an accident? There was her pride to be considered. Ballooning was her life, and all summer she had been a passionate advocate of hydrogen gas.

Damnation! His balloon was going the wrong way. It was headed not toward the other end of the meadow but at right angles to it, back toward the house. He added more straw to the brazier. The balloon rose, but it still kept its direction.

In the other balloon, Aurelia muttered softly and pulled on the valve rope. What on earth was he doing? It was dangerous to head back toward those trees. She waved her arms and made motions for him to go up, but he was intent on feeding the brazier and didn’t see her.

With a sigh, she dumped some ballast till she rose to his height. Wherever he was going, she would follow.

They went for some distance and then his balloon began to descend, not slowly and gracefully, but in erratic dips and dives that made her catch her breath. She pulled the valve rope and followed him down, her eyes on the terrain below.

The house was still faraway, but almost beneath them was the stream where the horse had thrown her. For a moment she let herself think about that precious day. But his balloon tangled in the nearby trees. His gondola hit the earth and bounced. She almost screamed as the hot coals flew from the brazier and hissed into the stream. And then a figure tumbled from the rolling basket, to lie still at the water’s edge.

“Ranfield! Oh, no!”

Heedless of her own safety or that of the balloon, Aurelia brought it swiftly down into a thicket. She was out of the gondola almost before it hit the ground and racing through the brambles to the streambed.

He lay half in the water, his upturned face pale. With a shudder she dragged him to dry ground. Then she knelt beside him, but he did not open his eyes. “Oh, dear. It’s all my fault. I should never have agreed to this flight.”

She lifted his head to her lap and pressed a kiss to his brow. “Oh, what shall I do without you?” she murmured. “How shall I ever live?”

His eyes fluttered and opened. “Aurelia?”

The sound of her name brought tears to her eyes. “Yes, Ranfield, I am here.”

“What happened?”

“Your balloon came down. You were tipped out.”

He stared up at her. “And you came down after me?”

“Well, yes. I ... I saw that you were injured.”

He put his hand to his head. “A little bump, nothing more.” He pushed himself to a sitting position facing her. “So you rescued me.”

“Oh, milord, it was ...”

He began to laugh. In consternation she watched as his laughter grew and grew. “Ranfield? Milord?”

“You ... rescued ... me. Oh, that ... is ... rich.”

His laughter reached out and caught her, pulling her into his mirth. And soon she was laughing, too. Just as they had that day in the stream.

She did not know quite when it happened, but somehow, someway, his arms were around her. And hers around him. And still they laughed.

Finally, she raised her head from where it lay against his soggy waistcoat. “I ... Why do we laugh like this?”

His eyes were so bright, pieces of heaven shining in his beloved face.

“I cannot speak for you,” he said, his expression sobering. “But I know perfectly well why I feel so fine.”