Gene of Isis

by Traci Harding

  I immediately turned my attention back to the viscount. ‘Did you travel to the Sinai?’

  ‘That I did. And I made many interesting discoveries there,’ he added, to heighten the intrigue. ‘I hope to discuss the subject with you in greater detail, Miss Granville, but as I have yet to settle my staff into our lodgings in town, I really should press on.’

  ‘Oh no…’ I protested, looking desperately at Lord Cavandish, who held a finger to his smiling lips to quiet my distress.

  ‘Would you not consider gracing my house with your presence, Lord Hereford? I know you are here to visit with your ailing sister and that Hartsford Manor is further afield from her bedside, but the town is only a short carriage ride from here. I feel sure that your stay in Derbyshire would be far more comfortably spent under my roof.’

  The old scholar was honoured by the hospitality of his one-time student. ‘So generous an offer could hardly be declined, my good Derby. I would be delighted to be your guest.’

  ‘Very well,’ Lord Derby said. ‘I shall have my staff see to it.’ He motioned to the steward by the door, who withdrew at once to make the arrangements.

  ‘However,’ the viscount added, ‘for the moment, I must drag myself away from this stimulating company.’

  I think I must have blushed when the distinguished lord looked my way.

  ‘I am still eager to see my sister and, with hope, I shall find her in good health and will return before dinner.’ Lord Hamilton rose, as did we all.

  ‘Would it be possible,’ I addressed Lord Cavandish, ‘and if I would not be a nuisance to Lord Hereford, for me to accompany him into town? I am in need of some stationery,’ I added as an afterthought, hoping my want of his conversation would not seem completely obvious.

  ‘I am also in such need,’ Mr Devere advised Lord Derby, ‘and I could save my weary horse another labour this day.’

  ‘Of course, my dear children,’ said Lord Hereford warmly, and my heart sank at his use of the term ‘children’. ’I’d be glad to be of service to my gracious host’s guests and to have your company.’

  It seemed Mr Devere was intent on becoming my shadow—everywhere I’d turned today he was there. I did hope this was not a sign for the weeks ahead, as his presence was very counter-productive to my goals. Not that I was entirely sure what my goals were—all I wanted at this moment was to get Lord Hamilton alone and pursue our conversation. Clearly, Mr Devere was not going to make it easy for my wish to become reality.

  Susan entered my room that evening and I barely recognised her!

  Her soft blue gown enhanced her baby blue eyes perfectly. When she wore dark clothes, or white—as we’d been forced to as children—her eyes appeared to have a steely blue shade, but this evening Susan’s eyes sparkled like gemstones. Unlike me, Susan had been blessed with dead straight hair of deepest brown, which shone like silk under light. It framed her face and was rolled under her ears and wound into a bun at the back of her head. Her hair was laced with diamonds and sapphires that matched her tiara. A hint of makeup made her appear older, as did the low-cut neckline of her dress. Her gown, like mine, was long-sleeved, and in accordance with the latest fashion was completed with short white silken gloves.

  ‘Oh, my lord, I barely recognise you,’ Susan said, before I could speak. ‘You are just beautiful, Ashlee!’ She swung me around to face the mirror.

  I had to admit that I barely recognised myself either. The unruly wave of my chestnut hair did not lend itself to the latest hairstyles as Susan’s did, so the front of my hair sat in tight ringlets around my face, and the rest was rolled into a bun at the back. I did have hair jewels that I’d never had the opportunity to wear, but I had passed them over in favour of some spring flowers. I fancied myself as being rather like a wood nymph. The pinky beige of my dress, trimmed with deep brown, lent itself to my little fantasy, and as my eyes were hazel-green the colours suited me well enough.

  Something in deep green would have been my first choice, but Nanny was terribly suspicious of anything green, be it fabric, paper or paint. Her father had worked in fabrics and had warned that copper arsenate, an arsenic-copper mix, was used to produce green shades in the silk substitute fabric, tarlatane. Nanny’s father had observed that a terrible illness, and in most cases death, came to those who had had contact with the green fabric or its dyes and tints. Medical science had yet to publish an investigation into the proposed connection but, for the layman, green was fast becoming a taboo colour to work with, or to decorate anything with—copper arsenate was also used to produce green in paint, wallpaper and flypaper.

  ‘But do I look older?’ That was my main concern.

  ‘Infinitely,’ Susan reassured me. ‘So…how did your little outing go?’ She suspected my need of maturity had been triggered this afternoon, as god knew I’d never wished for it before this day.

  ‘I think I’m in love,’ I replied whimsically.

  ‘I knew it!’ Susan was thrilled and I along with her. ‘We will be sisters.’

  ‘You mistake my meaning.’ My excitement was dulled only slightly. ‘It is not Mr Devere who has captured my heart, but Lord Hereford. He’s a widower, you know?’ I winked at her to lighten her mood.

  Susan’s jaw dropped. ‘But he’s old enough to be your grandfather!’

  ‘I don’t see his age,’ I protested. ‘The attraction is his wisdom, his knowledge, his experience!’

  Susan stood there, clearly beyond speech as she considered the best response. ‘He would make you a countess, I guess.’ She smiled warmly in encouragement, and took hold of both my hands. ‘So, even if we can’t be sisters, we’ll both be a countess.’ She swung me around and then abruptly came to a standstill. ‘Will we? Both be a countess?’ Susan subtly raised our little agreement of this morning.

  ‘What do you think?’ I teased her, looking into the mirror to fiddle with my curls.

  ‘I think that you had better honour our agreement,’ Susan stated, hands on hips and clearly annoyed by my stalling.

  ‘You’re the one.’ I smiled confidently.

  Susan gasped, and then squealed into her cupped hands. ‘And you are absolutely sure about that?’

  I served her an injured look. ‘Am I ever wrong?’

  ‘Oh my.’ She drew in a deep breath to contain her excitement. ‘By the time I am presented at court, I might already be engaged!’

  Every young noblewoman’s dream, as only the most eligible and beautiful young women managed to escape the marriage market. ‘Highly likely,’ I commented, nonchalant.

  Susan giggled, as my indifference made it all the surer. ‘I am so happy!’ She clasped her hands to her heart and twirled around in her evening dress, like some princess from a mediaeval romance novel—or a character from one of my stories.

  ‘You and me both,’ I confirmed with a kiss to her cheek, and, due to the clash of makeup, we spent the next quarter of an hour in front of the mirror.

  My first official social engagement could not have been more memorable.

  There was the minor inconvenience of having Mr Devere seated on my right, but to the best of my recollection he happily exchanged words with Lady Vanessa Cavandish for most of the evening. To my left was Lord Hamilton, by whose conversation I remained transfixed for the four courses of the meal. I was transported to the discovery of a temple complex at Serâbit el-Khâdim, which dated back to four thousand years before Christ. Lord Hereford theorised that this complex, if excavated, could prove to be the location of Moses’ mount from the Bible.

  I was captivated as I listened to Lord Hamilton relate how he and his associates fought to create interest in the project and raise funds for the huge excavation. At every turn the doors of the Establishment, which were closely watched by church interests, had been slammed in their faces. Lord Hamilton sank twenty years of his life into the excavation, and as much money as he was permitted by the claim of primogeniture on his family fortune.

  He was aware that he had hardly made a dent in
what he suspected was a huge complex. The only reason he was not still there was due to the local authorities deciding to withdraw their permission for foreigners to excavate the site—just as they’d uncovered a chamber door that threatened to lead somewhere interesting. Douglas Hamilton had been locked out of the Holy Land and had not been permitted to return there since.

  The viscount retired early, as he’d had a full day of activity. He cursed his age and bade me goodnight. He was growing fond of me, as traces of a rosy pink glow were penetrating a large black cloud encasing his heart centre, which I had been trying to ignore. My understanding was that Lord Hamilton’s heart died along with his wife, and as he had no children to love and no career or project, his heart centre had shut down for want of use. I feared that his physical heart might soon follow suit.

  I retired shortly after Lord Hamilton to gaze upon the fire in my room and allow my thoughts to further dwell upon him. As I sat there, trying to imagine that the heat of the fire was a desert sun beating against my face, my hand had come to rest upon the stone shoved between my breast and my corset for safekeeping.

  I was so preoccupied with my current mood that I had no desire to call upon my new otherworldly associate this evening. I wanted to retire into sleep and allow visions of ancient and sacred places to fill my dreams.

  I leant back in my chair and contemplated ringing for Nanny to assist me to undress, when from the corner of my eye I saw a note slide under my door.

  The note was sealed with wax but not stamped, and upon opening the door I realised the messenger must have departed the hallway in haste.

  I shut myself inside my room before opening the note which read—Look out your window. I crossed the room to the window and, pulling the heavy drapes slightly apart, I spied Mr Devere standing by the gaslight feature in the courtyard, with my missing bonnet in hand. He grinned and waved.

  I closed the curtain at once. ‘What must I do to be rid of that man!’ I searched for my shawl. ‘I’ve only known him one day and already I wish we’d never met!’ I resolved that I’d best go fetch my bonnet if I wished to avoid the risk of having to explain to anyone else how it went missing.

  The temperature was chilly and I made it clear that I didn’t appreciate being dragged outdoors as I curtseyed politely. ‘This is a little inappropriate, don’t you think, Mr Devere?’

  ‘Well, I have been trying to get you alone all day to return it, Miss Granville,’ he explained, in good humour, ‘but your fascination with Lord Hamilton forced me to this solution.’

  ‘Could you not have had a maid drop it back to my room?’

  ‘But that might have led to gossip,’ he suggested with a cheeky smile.

  ‘Well, I daresay if anyone sees us at present it will generate far more gossip.’ I tried not to be amused by my own comment. ‘So, I bid you good evening—’

  ‘Don’t go.’ He reached for my wrist to prevent my departure and then immediately let go. ‘Tell me what you were doing with your bare feet in an icycold stream at the break of dawn this morning?’

  ‘Fishing,’ I responded in jest and gave a laugh.

  ‘Well, I daresay you caught something.’ The man’s tone turned intimate and goodwill oozed from his being.

  ‘Yes.’ I pretended not to catch his meaning. ‘A cold, most likely, that is being irritated by this night air.’ This time when I made for indoors he did not make a move to stop me.

  ‘Funny, you don’t seem the social climbing type, Miss Granville.’

  His words stopped me in my tracks. I turned back to face him and wonder at his implication.

  ‘Would you really choose a title over true love and happiness?’ he posited with an arrogance so familiar that I was offended almost beyond response.

  ‘You assume a great deal from one day’s acquaintance,’ I replied, boiling with fury inside.

  ‘I fear that a distant assessment is all the opportunity you shall ever allow me, because I was born a second son.’

  My heart sank at his low assessment of my character, but what was more worrying was that I cared what he thought—why? ‘I do not feel it fair that you should judge me by the desires of other women. I have a different set of values, motives and goals from most of my gender, so far as I am aware…except perhaps the Dowager Countess of Derby.’

  He nodded his head to grant that my governess had a somewhat doubtful reputation in society. ‘I had the great honour of meeting her once, when I was about twelve years old.’ He seemed more at ease now that we had found a conversation and departed the argument. ‘I stumbled upon her taking solace in a quiet moment, separated from the ball that my parents were hosting. She asked me if I wanted to learn something about myself.’ He nodded and smiled to confirm he had taken her up on the offer, and when he raised his eyebrows, I assumed he’d found her discourse very interesting. ‘I do believe that, in the hour she spoke to me that night, she told me more about myself than I have managed to deduce since.’

  His hearty laugh amused me. He was rather different to your average, stuffy, run-of-the-mill nobleman. He actually had me interested. ‘Did she speak to you of your nature, or future events?’ I knew my governess and the courses her insights took.

  ‘Both.’ He sounded surprised that I had managed to predict the turn of their discussion. ‘I’ve never spoken of it to anyone before, but I feel I must tell you, for the Dowager Lady Cavandish predicted many events in my life…and I do believe that she predicted my meeting you, Miss Granville.’

  Now that twist in the conversation I had not expected. ‘Why do you think so?’ Damn my curiosity, I had to ask.

  Mr Devere suddenly became uncomfortable and he hesitated. ‘I didn’t expect that we’d be having this conversation so soon…perhaps it would be best left for when you have had more time to assess my character. For I am not the money-hungry lord wish-to-be that I fear you take me for. I’d like a little time to prove that to you.’

  My mind went blank. I was shocked that one day in society could lead to such complicated emotional situations! What was I going to say to this man, for clearly he did carry feelings for me already. I had been warned, and well knew, that my kin took their courting very seriously…but one day! What if this was what every day would bring? I now realised why women in my position chose to marry so fast—to escape situations like this! ‘Believe me when I say that I would only bring you grief. It is because you are such a fine being, Mr Devere, that I know you shall be far happier, contented and prosperous without me in your life.’

  ‘Contented and prosperous I’ll grant, for I have been warned that would be the case. But shall I be happier? I do believe you will be proved wrong on that count.’

  I could usually sense a lie and he was far too confident to be lying. ‘Well, I cannot comment, as I do not know the details of the confidence to which you refer. Lady Charlotte never disclosed any prediction of our meeting to me.’

  ‘Did she not?’ He seemed surprised, and became quiet, pondering his next move.

  Mr Devere badly wanted to tell me something and I just had to know. I attuned to his mental activity, which was accomplished by raising the intake of cosmic energy into my spirit-body; unfortunately this also tended to drown out whatever conversation or noise was going on in the physical world. If Mr Devere said anything beyond this point I did not hear it.

  But she described you so perfectly. You would be like no woman I’d ever met . .. at home in the wilds and with any class of people. You even have the look of a wood nymph about you, just as Lady Cavandish described.

  Then I perceived Mr Devere’s memory of his discourse with Lady Charlotte, who appeared to be much the same age as when I had met her. She was holding both of the lad’s hands and saying, ‘Like me, she will know things nobody else knows and see beyond all things. For she is of an ancient bloodline of kings, as are you, Master Earnest.’

  I smothered a gasp, as Lady Charlotte had not mentioned any such thing to me. I was suddenly fearful that Mr Devere had knowledge o
f me that I did not have.

  ‘Goodnight, Mr Devere.’ I curtseyed and departed, ignoring his request for an explanation for my hurried departure.

  Blessed Nanny, who read all the confusing events of the day in my expression, aided in removing my attire without asking one question to disturb my quiet contemplation.

  What if it wasn’t me that Lady Charlotte spoke of in Mr Devere’s memory? Maybe he’s got entirely the wrong woman! That would indicate there was another woman with my unusual proclivities who was going to enter Mr Devere’s life; now I really was clutching at straws. Yet, I do believe that anything is possible—EXCEPT that I might be destined to be Mrs Devere. That was not going to happen. I was not born to socialise; I wanted to be an explorer, like Lord Hamilton, and visit all the wondrous places he’d told me of today.

  ‘Why was I not born a man?’ I asked Nanny as she tucked me into bed.

  ‘Because women need more power,’ she said, departing with her candle out the door.

  ‘If I’d been born a man I could go to Lord Hamilton’s manor and spend time in his company without worry for reputation and rumour. I could travel abroad alone and not have the burden of dragging anyone else along with me…except for Nanny of course, if she’d come.’

  I rolled my treasure stone around in my fingers, wishing I’d summoned a genie to it, who would grant me such wishes. ‘Perhaps in the East I shall find a genie one day?’ I closed my eyes to imagine the mysterious desert location where I might encounter such an entity.

  Exotic desert locations had preoccupied my dreams as wished; only, every time I ran into trouble during my explorations, Mr Devere was there to help me out. Our association had seemed altogether too close for my comfort and I awoke with a deep sense of him clinging to my being.

  At first the recollection tickled at the centre of my ribcage and I smiled to greet the new day. Then, when my logic collected all the fragmented symbols of my dreams and put them into perspective—then, I was not so pleased.