She crawled beneath the counterpane, though she did not feel sleepy after her long nap that afternoon. Would it make more sense to tell Mendoza outright that she knew nothing that would be of use to him? Or wait for him to make her an offer, or a threat? She was inclined to the latter course of action. One never gave away more to an enemy than one must, and pretending to ignorance could protect her. She simply needed to wait him out until the Bounder arrived.
Morning sunlight, the smell of coffee, and the deep tone of cathedral bells woke Bess, who could not remember falling asleep. She had been more tired than she believed—of course, she had not had a truly restful sleep in over a week. She sat up and followed her nose to a tray on the console table containing a pot of the delicious-smelling stuff and bread and butter, more than enough to start her day. She was fonder of tea than of coffee, but it was unlikely the Oriental beverage was as popular in South America as their own home-grown brew, and the bitterness cleared her head of the lingering fog of sleep.
Amaya’s Shaping of her eyes had worn off, as it did every morning, and Bess felt a moment’s disappointment that she could not expect it to be repeated. Moving carefully and feeling her way with her feet, she took her cup and her plate of bread and butter back to bed, enjoying the simple decadence of a meal taken somewhere other than the table.
Clarissa, she Spoke, what news?
Almost immediately, Clarissa said, I located a Bounder a few hours ago, but chose not to address you while you were asleep. He will arrive at the viceroy’s palace in half an hour.
Bess’s heart leapt with excitement. Thank you, Clarissa!
You must travel to Lisbon when all this is over. I would love to hear the details of your harrowing adventures in person.
I promise to do so. I will Speak to you when I am home. Just thinking the word “home” made Bess close her eyes in bliss. So close…
When she was finished eating, she rose and set about donning her borrowed gown. Immediately, she discovered she had been correct the previous night: she could not dress without assistance. Sighing, she Spoke to Julieta, asking for her help in Spanish without stumbling over the foreign words. It was astonishing how well one’s facility with a foreign language improved when one had no choice but to speak it. She hoped she had not startled Julieta too much in addressing her unexpectedly.
A tingling in her temples preceded Honoria’s saying, Bess, are you well? Have you reached Lima?
I have, Bess Spoke, and expect to return to England very soon.
Oh, I am so glad to hear it. Mr. Clendennan sends his best wishes, and I intend to invite you to stay with us once you are fully recovered from your ordeal.
I would enjoy that. Excuse me, I believe Eleanora is addressing me.
Bess poured herself another cup of coffee and sipped it while she repeated her news to Eleanora. Idly, she tried the door handle; the door was not locked. Since she did not know where Julieta was, being able to leave the room was irrelevant.
She had finished that cup and one more, and was starting to feel rather restless, when Julieta opened the door and slipped inside, furtively shutting it with barely a click. “No puedes irte,” she said. You cannot leave.
“No entiendo,” Bess said. “Why can I not leave?”
Julieta grimaced and began speaking in the same low voice she had used the day before, rapidly enough that Bess said, “Please, slow down…despacio.”
The door opened again. “I beg your pardon,” Mendoza said, sounding not at all embarrassed at seeing Bess in her nightdress. “I will return.”
“Thank you,” Bess said.
When Mendoza had shut the door behind him, Julieta spoke again, her words running together in her haste. “Please, slow down,” Bess said. “Tranquilo. What is wrong?” She stepped into her gown and turned for Julieta to help her fasten it.
Julieta spoke again, slowly enough that Bess finally understood her. A terrible frightened numbness struck her. “Señor Mendoza…not let me go,” Bess said. “The Bounder…surely he is not in danger?” That made no sense, but Julieta’s words and thoughts were very clear. Mendoza intended to do something to the Bounder to prevent him taking Bess back to England.
“What will he do to me?” she whispered. “¿Qué es me hace?”
Julieta shook her head. “Nada. Todavía.”
Nothing…yet. Another chill struck Bess’s heart.
A polite knock sounded at the door. Bess exchanged a despairing glance with Julieta. There was nothing to do but bluff.
Julieta opened the door and bowed as Mendoza entered. “Good morning,” he said. “I trust you slept well?”
“Yes, thank you, Señor. I have just had word that the War Office is sending a Bounder here for me. Is there somewhere I might wait for him?”
“I will send for you when he arrives,” Mendoza said. “I hope you will permit me to show you and your transportation hospitality. I would like to discuss your travels before you leave, so that perhaps the Viceroy might reward the villages who aided you.”
“Oh,” Bess said, “that is…of course I would be honored, but I truly do not remember where they were. My vision is so limited, you see.”
Mendoza’s eyes narrowed. “I did not realize. You seem to see very well.”
“I assure you, I am simply good at compensating for my poor eyesight. I am barely capable of identifying north from west.” That was an exaggeration, but perhaps it would convince Mendoza that she could not help him.
“Nevertheless, I will speak with you soon,” Mendoza said. “Please excuse me.” He bowed and let himself out.
Julieta immediately continued speaking in that rapid, low voice. “Please slow down!” Bess exclaimed. “I have an idea.” It depended heavily on Julieta being brave enough, and loyal enough to an Englishwoman she barely knew, to carry out Bess’s plan.
Clarissa, she Spoke, this is urgent. Do you know the identity of the Bounder? His appearance?
Immediately, Clarissa said, It is a well-known Bounder company. I know its uniform. Why do you ask?
I am in grave danger at the viceroy’s palace. Show me the uniform. She had never been so grateful that for once Clarissa was not occupied.
An image of a man dressed in pale grey trousers and matching short coat over a red shirt came to Bess’s mind. Grave danger, how? Clarissa Spoke.
The viceroy’s secretary…oh, it will take too long to explain, but he intends to interfere with the Bounder, or even kill him, to prevent him returning me to England.
Bess! Clarissa’s astonishment came through clearly. I will relay the information—but the Bounder must still retrieve you. We must simply find a way to keep you both safe.
You cannot Speak to him directly?
I do not know that Bounder to Speak to, only the company’s representative.
Have that person relay the following. Bess reeled off a string of instructions and ended by peering closely at Julieta’s mystified face and Speaking the image to Clarissa. I will send Julieta immediately.
Take care, Bess.
Immediately Bess Spoke the image of the Bounding uniform to Julieta, who went rigid and a little pale but otherwise seemed calm enough. Spoken images were less accurate the more frequently they were passed along, and Bess hoped it was clear enough for Julieta to recognize.
“Él es el Saltador,” she said. “Tu encuentras…antes de que él…llegue al palacio.” If Julieta could reach the man before he entered the palace, if he obeyed Bess’s instructions, it might save his life—would certainly increase the chances of Bess leaving this palace freely.
Julieta nodded her understanding. “Then…¿Conoces mi ventana? ¿En el exterior?” Bess went on.
Julieta glanced at the window, blazing with morning light. “Sí.”
“Muestre el Saltador mi ventana. Él hace el resto.” Bess remembered the awnings stretching the length of the palace. Julieta would show the Bounder which window was Bess’s, the man would Skip to stand on the awning below it, look inside, and Ski
p through the glass. It was something Daphne had once told Bess she had done, and Bess was certain it did not take an Extraordinary to pull the trick off.
Julieta…it occurred to Bess that she was putting the woman in potential danger. “Will you be safe if you help me? Seguro?” She could not secure her freedom at the cost of someone else’s safety.
Julieta nodded and spoke in rapid Spanish. Bess understood the gist of her speech, which was that Mendoza did not think servants intelligent enough, or canny enough, to act against him. He would not suspect Julieta of collusion.
“Go now, please. Mas rápido.” Impulsively, Bess hugged Julieta, who hugged her tentatively back. She shut the door behind Julieta and walked, shaking with nerves, to the window. The great stone structure was still too distant for Bess to identify it, but by its size and how loud the church bells had been, she suspected it was a cathedral. She stared at it, willing her vision to clear so she might have something to focus on that was not her fear for Julieta and the unknown Bounder. Mendoza meant to keep her isolated—and as she thought that, it occurred to her that she had met no one save Mendoza, the guard outside her door, and the two servants since arriving at the viceroy’s palace, and that she could not guarantee anyone here knew of her existence.
She drew in a deep breath and let it out. At worst, if this failed, she would attack Mendoza and run for it.
She looked down at the corner of the plaza that was all that was visible from her window. Farther away, she saw movement as of people walking across the plaza toward the stone building. None of them drew near to her window. She closed her eyes and prayed, briefly but fervently, for success.
When she opened her eyes, she saw two figures below her window. One of them had a splash of red across his chest. A red shirt.
Bess gasped and stepped back from the window. In the next instant, a man appeared outside it, clinging to its sides and wobbling awkwardly from where he perched atop the awning. He was stout, almost round, and Bess let out a small shriek as he slipped—
—and then he was in the room with her, sweating and pushing back his hair, which had become disordered from all the Skipping. “Miss Hanley,” he said, breathing heavily, “I must say this is most irregular.”
“You understood my instructions,” Bess said.
“Indeed, though I have never received such a roundabout direction to a passenger.” The Bounder bowed. “Simon Blake, at your service, miss. Where would you like to go?”
The door slammed open. Mendoza stood framed in the doorway, his eyes blazing. “I have not said you may leave,” he said, his accent no longer musical, but menacing.
Bess flung her arms around Blake’s neck. “Go anywhere!” she shouted, and then, to Mendoza, said, “Adiós, señor.”
Mendoza took three rapid steps toward them. Blake put his arms around Bess’s waist. He lifted, and—
—light, like gauze, floating though there is no air—
—they were elsewhere.
Chapter 20
In which Bess returns home and says an unhappy goodbye
Instantly the temperature dropped by several degrees, and white walls closed in around them. Bess stepped away from Blake and turned, catching sight of a violet and orange Bounding symbol. Tiny lights glowed behind the thick glass of lanterns hung on the walls. The room smelled of fresh paint and vinegar, as if it had been newly refurbished. “Where are we?” she asked.
“Carstairs Bounding’s main offices in London,” Blake said. “You did say anywhere, miss. Will you explain what is going on? I almost feel I have kidnapped you.”
“A rescue, rather,” Bess said. Her heart was still pounding, and she felt weak in the knees. “Thank you for your prompt action. There was no time for questions. That man intended to keep me a prisoner until I gave him what he wanted.”
Blake’s eyes widened. “Miss, did he offer you insult? Who was he?”
Bess shook her head. “He did not, he simply—oh, it does not matter now. Thank you for your celerity.”
“It was my pleasure to aid the war effort, miss. Now that you are safe, is there another destination you would like me to take you to?”
Bess chose not to correct his misapprehension about her status with the War Office. “Is there anyone here who can return me to Devonshire?” Her heart was gradually returning to its usual calm rate, and she drew in a deep breath and released it slowly.
“Where in Devonshire, miss?” Blake pushed open the Bounding chamber door and gestured for Bess to precede him. “Really, this is all very irregular. But I assure you we can take you wherever you need to go.”
The Bounding chamber lay at one end of a long hallway lined with plain white doors. Bess guessed these were also Bounding chambers, and her assessment of the size and prestige of Carstairs Bounding increased. Ahead of them, one of the doors opened, and a man wearing the same uniform as Blake exited and strolled away down the hall, not paying them any heed. Blake stepped ahead of Bess and said, “You may wait in the west salon, miss, while I consult the roster. Do you wish to go to Plymouth?”
“No, my home is near Lamberton—that is some five miles northwest of Exeter.” She knew of no private Bounding chambers in Lamberton, as no one in her social circle was a Bounder, or she might have contacted that person directly.
“There may be nothing in Lamberton, but Exeter is a certainty. Pray, wait here—” Blake ushered her into a small but well-appointed sitting room—“and I will return shortly.”
The west salon reminded Bess of a scaled-down version of her mother’s sitting room at home, full of comfortable chairs and sofas upholstered in narrow blue striped fabric in a Grecian style and smelling of the same acrid scents as the Bounding chamber, if less strongly. The resemblance to home helped convince Bess she was finally out of danger; it was hard to remain agitated in such placid surroundings. She sat on a sofa and wished there were a fireplace; the room was chilly, not suited to the gown she wore.
She fingered its skirt and wondered how Mendoza had got it. She was increasingly convinced he had kept her presence in the palace a secret. She hoped Julieta was correct that Mendoza would not suspect a servant. He clearly did not think Julieta worth considering, since he had not concealed Bess from her. That did not stop Bess from imagining the worst. Julieta, she Spoke, proteges tú.
She sat on the sofa again and composed her mind. Father, I have returned to England. I am waiting on a Bounder to return me home, but someone may need to come to Exeter for me, as I do not believe they know any signatures in Lamberton. It was an abrupt way to announce her return, but she hoped her father would be joyful enough not to care.
The door opened, and a man entered. He was taller and thinner than Blake, but wore the same grey and red uniform. “Miss Hanley?” he said. “Peter Huxley. I understand you wish to go to Exeter?”
Bess stood and extended her hand to him. “Yes, Mr. Huxley, I—oh, please excuse me, I am being addressed.” She remembered to tilt her head back—she had lost the habit on her journeys—and said to Mrs. Kearsley, I take it my father received my message.
Oh, my dear, Mrs. Kearsley said, what a happy surprise! So unexpected! The Squire is readying the horses, and will set out the instant you give us word.
One moment, Mrs. Kearsley. Bess looked at Huxley, who wore the expression of a man capable of waiting all day on his eccentric customer. She realized her hair was still in a very messy braid down her back and her Spanish-style gown’s seams strained somewhat. “I fear I have no means to pay you,” she said. “My father will reimburse you when he arrives in Exeter.”
“The War Office has already compensated us,” Huxley said with a smile. “And we are happy to assist an Extraordinary Speaker. You do not object to being conveyed by a man? I fear Carstairs Bounding does not employ women Bounders.”
“Not at all. Please give me one moment, and then I am prepared to go.” Mrs. Kearsley, she Spoke, I will find a place in Exeter to wait on my father’s arrival, and I will tell him of it when I know
, so you may let him know he may depart now. Thank you.
We are so happy to have you home, Mrs. Kearsley said, and the connection ended.
Bess opened her eyes and arranged her arms around Huxley’s shoulders. “You are not afraid,” Huxley said. “I am grateful for that. Some women are timid around male Bounders, and that makes Bounding awkward.”
“I am a veteran of the War Office, so timidity has been bred out of me,” Bess said with a laugh.
Huxley put his arms around her waist, lifted her without any effort, and with a rush of displaced air, they were in a Bounding chamber smaller than the one at Carstairs Bounding and smelling deliciously of pastries and cake. Huxley released her, and Bess took half a step away, feeling as if the room were closing in around her. It was too bright to be truly claustrophobic, but Bess felt happier when Huxley opened the door and ushered her outside.
The smell of pastries intensified, filling her with the scents of cinnamon and sugar, and Bess could hear the murmur of speech nearby. The Bounding chamber let out on a short hallway much brighter in one direction than the other. Huxley gestured Bess in that direction, and as she walked toward the light, trailing her fingers along the wall to orient herself, the noise grew louder until she could nearly make out individual words. She suspected this was a tea shop; eating establishments and taverns and inns were all common locations for public Bounding chambers, as the owners enjoyed the increased custom from travelers.
“Do you have someone waiting for you?” Huxley asked.
“Yes—no, that is, my father will be here in half an hour, and you need not wait with me,” Bess said.
“If you are certain—I would not want to abandon you,” Huxley said. “But please permit me to pay for your refreshment while you wait.”
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