Ether & Elephants (21 page)

When Tom knocked on her door, she rose and her thoughts see-sawed back to him. He was going to propose. She’d seen it in his eyes this afternoon, when he’d tried to kiss her. Much as she loved him, and always would, she’d made her decision. He was a good man, one of the best, but she’d never be able to forget how badly he’d hurt her. Besides, like Roger, he’d always see her as a delicate waif in need of protection. He’d want her to be only a wife, not a wife who was also a schoolmistress, and she was determined to fulfill that new dream. She’d have her children, without the bother of a man trying to run her life.

Lark trilled a song as Nell left the room on Tom’s arm. The school would have a dog or two as well, she decided, and some cats. She loved the automaton pet, but not the same way that Wink loved her dog, George. Nell preferred flesh-and-blood creatures to curl up with on a cold night. Of course, since Wink had Liam, that probably counted as the best of both worlds. Nell couldn’t afford to be that fussy. Having only just started putting her heart back together again, she wasn’t about to let some other man go about breaking it.

“There was a cable from Papa when we stopped for fuel in Budapest.” Tom held her properly by the arm as they moved toward the dining room. The corridor was full of other first-class passengers making the same trip. Nell or Tom had met a few at various society functions, so they were periodically obliged to stop and exchange greetings, assuring acquaintances that all was well with the Hadrian family. The reason for their trip was given out that Nell was hoping to learn more about the country her father was from and that Tom, as her foster brother, was merely escorting her.

The captain’s dining room was a sight to behold, rivaling even the Duchess of Trowbridge’s massive ballroom. Electric chandeliers glittered and gilt-paneled walls reflected their sparkle onto tables set with crisp white linens, white china, Waterford crystal and sparkling silver. Lush bouquets of tropical flowers filled urns in the corners of the room, while similar ones on a more modest scale graced the center of each round table. At the head of the room, a long rectangular table was set for eighteen, with Captain Peabody in his dress uniform presiding over one end while his wife, a stout lady in blue satin and yards of pearls, stood as hostess, welcoming the most honored guests to the table.

As the unmarried daughter of a mere baron, Nell was the second to last in precedence among the females, since there were several dowagers present. That placed her at the end of the table, one seat removed from her hostess. She was partnered with a shipping magnate whose wife had remained in London. Since there were fewer titles among the men, Tom, a baronet, was somewhat higher, putting him in the middle of the table. The separation suited her just fine, and she set herself to enjoying her meal, chatting with the business man on one side and an archaeology professor on the other. The professor was by far the more interesting, and Nell managed to discover that his expertise was in relics from eastern India. She didn’t go so far as to ask about the Eye of the Buddha, but she did agree to meet the gentleman for tea in the conservatory the following afternoon. From both of her dinner partners she steadily gathered information about the viceroy’s court. Lord Elgin was known for common sense and a practical way of dealing with the indigenous people of the region. She was delighted to hear that some of the local princes were frequent guests at Government House, where she and Tom would be staying as representatives of Her Majesty the queen. Nell could only hope that Nawab Shanku was one of those frequent guests. Meeting him at a ball, without having to seek him out, would greatly reduce any anxiety she had about the process.

After dinner, the ladies retired to an elegant drawing room while the men were led off to the smoking salon for port and cigars. One of the women who’d heard Nell play in the conservatory mentioned it to Mrs. Peabody, who begged Nell to grace them with music until they were joined by the men. Nell couldn’t in all politeness refuse, so she sat down at the small harpsichord, nothing nearly as elegant as the piano in the conservatory, and proceeded to play a series of country dances and ballads for the next hour. While she never minded playing and the crowd was small enough to keep her from any great discomfort, she had hoped to mingle and find out more about their destination and the people she would meet.

When the men came in, the company returned to the dining room. The tables and chairs had been removed, turning the space into the elegant ballroom it had resembled.

Tom strode toward Nell with a glint of purpose in his eyes, but she turned instead to Professor Pritchard and batted her lashes.

“May I have this dance?” Although he caught her blatant hint, he blinked at her through his wire-rimmed spectacles, looking so much like a startled owl that she expected him to hoot.

“I’d be delighted.” Nell looked over his shoulder, which wasn’t much higher than her own, to see Tom’s dagger-like glare. She responded with a wide-eyed smile. “Have you any active digs in the Bengal region?”

The professor swirled her in a lively polonaise. “I’ve mostly been up in Nepal. Fascinating things up there. But there are wondrous sites throughout the region. I could take you on a little tour once we’re in Calcutta. You did say the goal of your trip was to learn more about the country, did you not?” His attempt at a dip was a little less than perfect, but Nell managed to retain her footing.

“I’d love a tour of archaeological sites.” Actually, it would be downright perfect, especially if she could get him to show her the
right
ones. “I’m particularly fascinated by the statues of Buddha. I hear there are some that are absolutely massive stone carvings, some even with gems.”

Pritchard chuckled. “All the ladies love the gems. You’d look magnificent in rubies my dear—not that emeralds don’t suit you as well, of course. But the red gleam of a perfect ruby would absolutely glow against your golden skin.”

Nell chuckled back. Men only called her complexion golden when they were flirting. The rest of the time she was brown. “I do love rubies, but I think I’d rather see them on the statue than remove them to wear around my neck. It seems…almost sacrilegious, desecrating a place of worship.”

“Well, that’s what archaeologists do, my dear.” He chuckled again. “But I do agree, I’d rather leave a significant piece intact for a museum to display and study than break it up into bits on the black market. Perhaps when we’re both back in England, I can escort you to the British Museum and show you some of my most important finds.”

“Of course.” Actually, she’d rather eat ground glass. Mum, back when she’d been the governess, had taken the children to the British Museum once. The number of ghosts, sad, angry, screaming ghosts, attached to the collection of artifacts had overwhelmed Nell, leaving her ill and in tears. She hadn’t been back since, and wouldn’t be likely to go again. The only exhibits she enjoyed were those by modern,
living
artists. Very rarely did she find a ghost among those.

When the dance ended, she found herself with another partner, and another, with barely enough time to take a breath. Tom seemed to have changed his tactics, waiting instead of commandeering her into a waltz. She danced with Mr. Walford, the shipping magnate, and managed to wangle more stories about Calcutta and the surrounding regions, including the use of native Bengalis as officers on ships. Apparently this was rare among East India company vessels, and even for private ships that traded under company auspices. The only way that might have happened, he told her, was if the ship was owned by one of the local moguls, or by someone who was closely allied with one.

The
Star of Calcutta
had a British owner, one who now lived in Ceylon, according to Tom’s research. She wondered if this man had ties to the nawab’s family or overlord.

She beamed at the fatherly Mr. Walford. “My father knew a man once by the name of Johnstone who owned some ships. I wonder if you’ve encountered him, since you’re in the same business. I believe he’s from Ceylon, but he must spend some time in the capitol.”

“We’ve met,” Walford admitted. “Johnstone is well-connected throughout the Indies. In fact, I believe he does staff his ships with native officers on a regular basis. Most owners and captains worry about mutiny and rebellion, but Johnstone swears by the practice. Didn’t even have any trouble during the Sepoy Mutiny of ’57, so he might be on to something.”

“Is Mr. Johnstone often in Calcutta? If so, I ought to pay my respects on behalf of my father.”

The music ended and Walford led her off the floor and straight to the punch bowl, bless his heart. He must have known how desperately thirsty she was. “No, he’s infirm these days and never leaves his tea plantation. I believe there’s a son. He makes the rounds, as it were. Bombay, Calcutta, Bangkok. If he’s in town, I’d be happy to introduce you.” He handed Nell a cup of punch.

The sweetness and tartness of the various fruits softened the sharp tang of the champagne, making a flavorful, bubbly concoction that burst on her tongue. “That would be lovely. Thank you so much, Mr. Walford. I look forward to seeing you in Calcutta.” She drank the rest of her glass greedily before another man, this time one of the ship’s junior officers, swept her back out onto the dance floor.

“Nice to see a young, single lady,” the young man explained. “Not too many of those on the ship. Not so many in India, either, unless you count the darkies.”

Nell lifted one eyebrow. “You do realize that I
am
, as you put it, half-darkie? I’ll thank you to quit using such an offensive term.”

The boy, probably all of seventeen, blinked before his blue eyes widened. “Sorry, miss. Thought maybe you were Italian.”

Nell muffled a giggle. “No offense taken, Ensign, and you wouldn’t be the first to make that guess, but let that be a lesson. Never make assumptions about people unless you want to be caught with your boot in your mouth.” Inwardly, she laughed at herself for the lecture. Even on the dancefloor, she was still a schoolmistress at heart.

Eventually, she couldn’t help but dance with Tom. They were traveling as siblings, so it would have been unconscionably rude to give him the cut direct when he stood right in front of her, hand extended. At least it was a country dance, not a waltz.

She hadn’t danced with him since she’d learned of his marriage, so she expected to it be miserable and awkward.

It wasn’t.

Apparently her newfound resolution to live life on her own terms had lifted her out of her abject depression when it came to facing him. When his hand touched hers, gloved though they both were, she felt a tingle all the way to her spine. She probably always would.

It just didn’t hurt anymore.

An enormous weight of sadness and gloom had been lifted off her heart. She smiled, letting the sheer joy of the music fill her veins.

“You look like you’re having fun,” Tom said when they came together during the reel. “It’s lovely to see.”

“Thank you.” They parted ways before she could say more.

The small orchestra was good, four men complimented by several automata. The live musicians were talented enough to provide the spirit and soul of the music. Technical precision simply couldn’t replicate emotion.

There was a parallel there to her idea of marrying Roger just for the sake of a family, but while the music played, she didn’t care to explore that thought too deeply.

“It does seem frivolous to dance while we’re on a mission,” she whispered the next time Tom came close. “Even though there isn’t much else we can do.”

“Doesn’t it?” He cocked his head and winked. “Welcome to the life of an agent of the crown. Lots of mucking about, lots of mind-numbing boredom, all for a few moments of satisfaction.”

They split apart again. He’d forgotten one thing, she mused. The danger. She’d been to funerals for family friends who’d died in the line of duty. She’d witnessed and tended more injuries than she could count, though that had started back in Wapping, before they’d even known about the Order.

It was something Mum, Amy, Belinda and countless others lived with every day. Any time a Knight went on a mission, there was always the chance that instead of seeing your loved one come home, it would be the duke, Lord Lake or Sir William at the door instead, a black armband on his sleeve.

Living as a spinster would save her from that.

She’d made the right decision. As for tonight, there was nothing else to do, so she might as well enjoy the dancing. By the time Tom escorted her back to her room, she was giddy and exhausted, but happier than she’d been in years.

“You’re magnificent tonight,” he said in a low voice as they paused outside her door. “I don’t think I’ve seen you so beautiful since Wink’s wedding.”

“I had fun.” At Wink’s wedding, she’d assumed her own would be next. After that, she hadn’t had much to smile about. “I promise, though, I didn’t forget about our mission. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be all business again.”

“I’ve no doubt of your dedication.” He tipped his head, mindful, she was sure, of all the other passengers finding their own rooms after the dance. “May I take you for a walk in the conservatory in the morning? Perhaps we can compare notes from tonight. And discuss that matter I brought up earlier in the day.”

“Of course. Nine o’clock? I’ll meet you there. Goodnight, Tom. Sleep well.” At the reminder of the morning, her cheerfulness started to fade. She stepped back toward her door.

His eyebrows scrunched together as if she’d confused him, but there were too many people in the hallway for him to press her further. Instead he bowed his head. “Goodnight.”

Eileen, who’d certainly been listening at the door like any good lady’s maid, opened the portal the moment Tom turned away. “Come in, miss. I’ve some cocoa warmed and waiting, just the way you like it.”

Nell cast a bemused smile at the other passengers in the hallway and ducked inside.

* * *

Tom paced the conservatory the following morning, waiting for Nell to join him. She’d insisted on meeting up here, sending a message via Eileen rather than allowing him to escort her. This early in the morning, the room was empty. All the guests were sleeping off the excesses of the night before or enjoying breakfast in the dining room. What few brave souls were about seemed to prefer the outdoor viewing deck for their morning constitutional, looking down on all the grand cities of Europe, which were mostly dark blobs of smoke and soot when viewed from above, hardly picturesque in Tom’s opinion. As to the countryside, it had never been his idea of paradise, although he’d found himself the owner of a proud country estate. Stonechase was about a half-hour carriage ride north of Cambridge, and he supposed he liked it well enough. Certainly, if he was going to have a family, he’d rather raise them there than in London, where a man could cut the air with a knife, and vampyres lurked in the filthy, smoky alleyways.