“He left some funds so that Mama may live comfortably but not enough to support us both.” Arthur Kenward had expected his only child to be married by now, and if Lenore was honest with herself, she once assumed the same thing. “I want to join the crew. Your crew. I’ll take any spot—messman, rigger, mechanic, ground crew even—whatever is open. Papa taught me soldering and welding. I can read blueprints and am familiar with propulsion and the concepts of thrust vectoring. I haven’t much experience for telegraph or navigation, but I can learn. What do you think? Would you take me on, Captain?”
She inhaled after her long spiel and stared at Nettie, willing the woman to say yes. Unfortunately for Lenore, Captain Widderschynnes’ distinction as an intrepid adventurer didn’t include an impulsive nature.
The terraced lines at the corners of the captain’s blue eyes deepened, and she set her glass on a nearby table. She braced her elbows on her knees and scrutinized Lenore as thoroughly as the Guardian had done two months earlier at Highgate.
“Your father,” she said in a far more formal accent than Lenore had ever heard before, “bless his departed soul, would have my guts for garters if I had you flutterin’ in the wind from a mooring mast or runnin’ about stringing yaw guys to cables and pulley blocks.”
Lenore’s heart threatened to pound out of her chest. “I don’t have to be a rigger.” She loosened the death grip she held on her own fingers. “I can work in the mess or the laundry. There’s no danger in sweeping and washing dishes. Or I can post to the main engine room. I know machinery. I assisted Papa with several of the improvements installed on this ship, including the incendiary shield.”
Nettie graced her with a disgusted look. “Don’t play stupid, Lenore. The Pollux is bristlin’ with cannon, machine guns and bombs, as well as other nastiness you’re best not knowing about. You know any post on an airship, especially a runner, is risky. If Nathaniel’s death didn’t teach you that lesson, nothing will.”
Five years, and the grief was as crushing as the day she received word of Nathaniel’s death. Lenore closed her eyes for a moment, forcing the sorrow back to the shadowed parts of her soul. It was enough she mourn for her father. She knew the pain of that loss would lessen with time; she’d shoulder the pain of the other until she died.
She opened her eyes to find Nettie’s expression had gentled to one of sympathy. “It’s not my way to be cruel, Lenore. I think you just need remindin’ this isn’t a game or some great adventure. There’s danger and costs in this business. Nathaniel paid the ‘ighest price, and you paid with ‘im.” She frowned. “Your papa was my one of my best mates. I’d be no friend to ‘im if I put ‘is girl at risk. You’re better off hiring out as a governess or lady’s companion.”
Jane Kenward and Nettie Widderschynnes agreed for once in their lives, much to Lenore’s dismay. Jane had suggested—insisted—on the same thing. A position as governess or companion was Lenore’s best course. Respectable, safe, soul-withering. Lenore blanched at the idea of years stretched out before her, trapped in households where she was isolated from everyone except spoiled, difficult children or bitter widows whose idea of a companion was synonymous with whipping boy. Her father might disapprove, but he wasn’t here to tell her no.
“Nettie, I know the risks, but I’ve wanted this all my life—before I met Nathaniel, before Papa’s death. You saw me when I was a child, how I’d pretend to be you.” Lenore didn’t miss the faint blush warming the older woman’s cheeks and pressed her advantage. “Other women serve under you on the Pollux. Will you not consider it?”
Nettie took a long swallow of her beer and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Brilliant with his inventions, your papa. Not much of a sailor or crewman. Got airsick each time he went on a night run with us, but he loved it all the same. Said you would too had you been old enough to accompany him.” She scowled at Lenore. “I’m not sayin’ aye, but I’m not sayin’ nay either. I want to think about it.”
Lenore’s shoulders sagged, and she slumped in her chair with relief. “Thank you, Nettie. For what it’s worth, you might well save me from a slow death of needlepoint, alphabets, and smelling salts.”
“And put you in harm’s way with a quick death from a stray bullet.” Nettie pointed an accusing finger. “Don’t play the savior card with me, missy. If I say no, you keep your dignity, accept my decision and walk out of here without argument. Understood?”
Lenore saluted. “Aye, Captain.” She didn’t dare smile.
“We sail in three days’ time for the Redan, providing escort for the Andromeda. It’s a month out and a month back. You’ll have your answer then. No sooner.”
The Redan. Lenore’s heartbeat stuttered. She’d been raised on tales about the defensive perimeter. Bordering the length of Atlantic coastline from Hammerfest in Norway to the Strait of Gibraltar, the buffer protected the continent from the horrifics that sometimes erupted out of the dimensional fissure. Many airships, along with their crews, had been lost fighting at the Redan. Nettie had almost lost the Pollux, and Nathaniel had died there. If she joined the crew, it was a guarantee she’d see it first-hand.
“You’ll be careful, won’t you, Nettie?”
Nettie shot her a reproachful look. “Not much choice. We’re playing nanny to a cargo lifter loaded with flyers and munitions.” She gestured to Lenore’s untouched glass. “You might not want to let that get too flat. It turns bitter.”
Accustomed to the captain’s pragmatic view of her job, Lenore didn’t expound on her concern over this latest mission. She rose from her chair. “No more for me. I’m off to visit Papa, then home. I need my wits sharp to face Mama’s tirade. She won’t soon forgive me for sneaking away.” She didn’t hide her distaste. “I missed Aunt Adelaide’s weekly one o’clock visit, along with her atrocious piano playing.”
Nettie’s chuckle was less than sympathetic. “Better you than me, ducks. I’ll take a good battle at the Redan over that nonsense any day.” She stood with Lenore. “You’ll give my best to your papa when you visit, yeah?”
Lenore gathered her shawl and reticule. “Always.” She paused, remembering the funeral and the Guardian who vowed to protect her father’s grave. “Did I tell you I met the Guardian of Highgate?”
The other woman’s eyes widened. “Did you now? And how did you manage that? They’re not known for socializin’ with the living.”
“He revealed himself once the sextons bricked Papa’s grave. I approached him…”
Nettie’s bark of laughter interrupted her. “You’ve a backbone tough as those corset steels you wear, girl. Guardians scare the lights out of most people.”
Lenore’s cheeks heated at the compliment. “He had a fearsome aspect. Tall, dressed in black armor—and the strangest eyes, as if he looked back on eternity.”
“You make him sound like a right ‘andsome bloke.”