Abounding Might

by Melissa McShane

  Lord Moira sat with his hands folded together atop his desk. “Lady Daphne, are you dissatisfied with your assignment?” His brow, made more prominent by his receding hairline, furrowed further.

  The high back of her chair and its position made Fletcher invisible, or Daphne would have glared at him. He dared bring their conversation to Lord Moira’s attention? Her kind feelings about him evaporated. “No, my lord, I am grateful for the opportunity to serve Lady Loudoun. She is very kind and no trouble at all, though I would not complain if she were—that is, of course she is not—”

  “If you recall, Lord Moira, it was my opinion that Lady Daphne’s time is being used immoderately,” Fletcher said mildly. “Lady Daphne expressed to me her enjoyment of her current assignment.”

  That was not true either, but Daphne felt mollified that Fletcher was at least trying to ameliorate whatever mistaken impression he had given the Governor-General. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion, Fletcher,” Lord Moira said. “Lady Daphne’s assignment comes from the War Office itself.”

  “I do not mean to criticize General Omberlis,” Fletcher said. Where Lord Moira’s voice was the grumble of a hibernating bear prodded to wake mid-winter, Fletcher’s quiet baritone sounded like water over stone, a pacifying music. “But Lady Daphne’s duties are intermittent, and I am certain the general would not object to my proposal.”

  “It is I who must make the decision. Lady Daphne, what is your opinion?”

  Daphne gaped. “Lord Moira, I have no opinion because you and Captain Fletcher have not explained what you disagree about.”

  “No?” Lord Moira seemed taken aback for a moment. “Fletcher, explain yourself, please.”

  Fletcher moved to stand next to the desk so Daphne could see him. “My duties within this government take me all over northern India,” he said. “You might say I am sent to intervene when native concerns clash with the interests of the Honourable Company. At the moment, I am tasked with locating a party of missionaries who have been stirring up dissent to the north of here.”

  “But I thought the proselytizing of Christianity was acceptable.”

  “It is, with the understanding that the native population is not stirred to discontent. The Company’s business cannot be accomplished if Indians are resentful of their high-handed interference and disregard for their customs. Strictly speaking, these missionaries are doing nothing illegal. But all that matters is how their actions are perceived by the Hindoos, and their activities are causing problems. I intend to take several men to locate the missionaries and return them to Calcutta, where they may take ship back to England. But the Company would prefer not to treat them as criminals. So rather than bring them back in chains, I need a Bounder who can return them instantaneously to the… custody… of Government House.”

  The room grew suddenly much warmer. Daphne’s skin tingled. “You want my services?” she said, rather incredulously.

  “I am not convinced,” Lord Moira said. “You were assigned to Government House for a specific purpose. You must not permit other concerns to interfere with your primary duties.”

  “Oh, but my lord, I will not—I can be anywhere in half a breath—I am certain Lady Loudoun will understand—”

  “Lady Daphne will never be in a position where she will not be able to return immediately,” Captain Fletcher said. “I will take responsibility for that.”

  “Other Bounders—perhaps Major Schofeld—”

  “Are occupied with other duties,” Fletcher said. “Lady Daphne is the only Bounder attached to Government House whose skills are underused at the moment. She is a natural choice.”

  “She will need a chaperon,” Lord Moira said, his rumbling voice subsiding somewhat.

  “That will be no trouble, my lord,” Daphne said quickly, though she had no idea whom she could find to fill that role. She saw freedom receding from her grasp, and added, “It would be an honor to contribute to Captain Fletcher’s very important work.”

  It might have been overdone, but Lord Moira’s brows relaxed, and Daphne judged she had chosen the right plea. “Very well,” the Governor-General said. “Fletcher, I will leave the details to you, as usual. Ensure you have a Speaker attached to your party. I expect daily reports on the state of British influence in these provinces. Communicate with my Speakers before returning the missionaries here, so we will be prepared against their being… obstreperous.” He smiled for the first time since Daphne had entered the room, an expression that said he rather hoped they might be obstreperous. “Lady Daphne, I hope you appreciate my generosity. This is quite outside the expectations General Omberlis had of you.”

  His smile became a more calculating expression, one that made Daphne’s heart pound too rapidly, reminding her of the circumstances that had sent her to India. He thought so little of her, did he? She rose from her chair and curtseyed, saying, “I will do my best to satisfy, my lord.”

  “Lady Daphne, if you will walk with me, I will explain what I expect of you,” Fletcher said, opening the door for her. Daphne exited rather rapidly, feeling Lord Moira’s eyes on her as she went. In the antechamber, the eyes of Wellesley fell on her again, and she avoided them, as if it were the real man and he were as judgmental of her as Lord Moira. It was possible she might never be able to satisfy the demands of such a military-minded man as the Governor-General. She refused to consider it was impossible. Her whole future depended on proving to him that she was capable.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked Fletcher under her breath. They were passing through the corridor leading back to the center of Government House. Men in civilian garb spoke with soldiers and even a few women in the black-on-black of the War Office. Probably none of them were interested in what she was saying, but Daphne did not wish to provide them with fodder for gossip.

  Captain Fletcher did not pretend not to understand her meaning. “As I said, I have need of a Bounder, and based on our conversation, you are rather at loose ends. I thought to solve both our problems at once.”

  “I did not say I was dissatisfied.”

  “You did not need to. I apologize if I was presumptuous, but I’m afraid it’s too late to return to Lord Moira and ask him to change his mind.”

  The thought of doing so made Daphne shudder inwardly. She felt a trace of irritation at Fletcher’s high-handedness, but he was right, she was bored, and this was, if not the opportunity she had hoped for, at least a chance to see some of the real India. “When will we leave?”

  “We will not leave, Lady Daphne. Chaperoned or not, you should not travel rough with a party of men. No, I will summon you when we reach our destination, some five days from now. Come to the fort tomorrow and I will have our portable Bounding chamber ready for you to learn. Then it will be as simple as Bounding—if I may say so without insulting your talent.”

  “No, Captain, I take your meaning, it is just—I do I wish I could see the real India!”

  “There will be more than enough of that,” Fletcher said with a laugh. “Do you truly have a companion, or was that to prevent Lord Moira from putting a stop to this plan before it has begun?”

  She was about to confess her lack of a companion when an idea occurred to her. “No, that is, I shall have to ask her—but I believe she will agree, she is so, um, agreeable. And she is a Speaker, so you may communicate with her and we can leave immediately when you request our presence, unless you suppose—oh, I am saying this all wrong.”

  They walked down the stairs to the grand entrance, where Fletcher came to a stop somewhat out of the way of the men passing through the door in both directions. “Lady Daphne,” he said, “I believe I made the right choice in making you one of my party. I take it you forgive me for interfering in your affairs?”

  “Captain, I said I was not dissatisfied. I did not say I was not bored.”

  Fletcher laughed, hard enough to draw the attention of two uniformed men passing them on their way out the door. “You are a most unusual woman, Lady Daphne. I am a
lready grateful to you for agreeing, and I look forward to learning more of you during this journey.” He bowed, donned his hat, and left the palace. Daphne thought too late that she might have offered to convey him to his destination—but he might have felt that an intrusion, she decided, and I would not for the world have him believe me inconsiderate. She Bounded to the left-hand drawing room of Lindsey House and immediately went in search of Miss Hanley.

  The Extraordinary Speaker was in Lindsey House’s small library with a book held close to her eyes. “Lady Daphne,” she said, “I have been on tenterhooks wondering what your summons was in regard to. Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, Miss Hanley, everything is very well—are you busy? That is, I can see you are busy now, I mean to inquire of your activities next week, whether they are such that you can—oh, I am saying this all wrong.”

  “I have the same duties I always have, sending messages to the Governor-General and his non-Speaker staff. You seem so anxious, I must ask again, are you well?”

  “I am to take a journey northward, a journey for the Governor-General’s office, but I cannot travel unaccompanied—oh, but perhaps you consider this an imposition, it is not as if we are bosom friends, and we will Bound to our destination, Captain Fletcher says he will travel rough—what do you suppose he means by that? Not sleeping on the ground, surely—”

  “Lady Daphne, stop!” Miss Hanley laughed, putting up a hand as if she might stem the tide of Daphne’s words. “I take it you wish me to go on a journey with you? Very well, I accept.”

  “But—so readily?”

  “I find myself curious about the country outside Calcutta. And I would like to know you better. This journey seems designed to permit both curiosities to be met simultaneously. However, I will have to insist you call me Bess, if we are to travel together.”

  “Is that your name? How lovely! And you must call me Daphne, I dislike being Lady Daphne when I am with friends, everyone makes it sound as if I am ten years old.” Daphne sat in a chair opposite her new friend and sighed. “I should have asked Captain Fletcher what we are to bring.”

  “That is no trouble, I will Speak to him and request he send more information. Then you will tell me all about this journey. Surely there is more to it than just the need to explore India.”

  “No, there is more, and Bess—” Daphne sighed again, this time with excitement, “I believe it will be wonderful!”

  In which a much-desired adventure begins

  aphne folded her War Office Bounder uniform into her trunk and closed the lid. She had retrieved it three days ago, had it brushed and sponged clean, and it looked none the worse for its encounter with the mud of a Spanish battlefield. She was still uncertain about it. At night, when she lay awake restless and anticipating Fletcher’s summons, she questioned whether she still had the right to wear it. But she was still part of the War Office, even irregularly as her attachment to Government House and Lady Loudoun implied, so surely… but would it give others the wrong impression? That she had not utterly failed at her duties? Ultimately, she had decided to leave herself the option, and packed it rather than wearing it.

  Instead she wore a lightweight gown of printed Indian cotton, with long sleeves to protect her fair skin from the sun, and comfortable shoes. Like most Bounders, she was bareheaded; a bonnet, while proper as well as additional protection from the sun, made her feel stifled when she Skipped or Bounded. Whether it actually interfered with her talent, no one knew, but Daphne enjoyed the feel of fresh air on her face and in her hair and was happy for the excuse.

  She Bounded with her trunk to the left-hand drawing room and settled herself on the chaise longue to wait. It had been seven days since she had last spoken to Fletcher—that was two days for him to assemble his party, and five days to travel, and he ought to have reached his destination that day. Perhaps she should Bound there, learn whether he had arrived—but that would be presumptuous, and if they were still on the road, they would not have erected the Bounding chamber and she would have nowhere to go.

  “I thought I might find you here,” Bess said from the doorway. “I have not heard from Ensign Phillips yet.”

  “I have nothing to do but wait. I dislike waiting.”

  “You might read. You might sew.”

  “I am too restless for those things. Pray, ask Ensign Phillips their location?”

  Bess laughed and came to sit opposite Daphne on the sofa. “I will not trouble him yet again. We Spoke this morning and he said they were within a few hours’ travel of Madhyapatnam. Likely they will settle themselves at the Residence before calling for us.”

  Daphne scowled. “You are far too reasonable.”

  “You are far too impatient. The time will come.”

  “It is hardly impatience when one simply cannot bear to wait for things.”

  “I believe that is what impatience means, Daphne.”

  “I know. You are not the first to tell me that.” Daphne leaned back and sighed. “How is it that Madhyapatnam has a Resident when there is no native ruler whose court he might be appointed to?”

  “I believe there was a prince in Madhyapatnam once, but I know no more than that. They may simply call him the Resident out of habit.”

  “What do you suppose the Residence is like?”

  “I don’t know. Not as large as Government House, obviously, but it must be sizeable if it is to host all of Captain Fletcher’s party and the two of us.”

  “And you have never met the Resident?”

  “Sir Rodney attended one or two events in Calcutta society before taking his position at Madhyapatnam. He is in his late forties, rather stout, and I recall his hair was receding in front. We were never introduced, but I believe he is unmarried. I do not know if he has talent.”

  “Not a romantic figure, then. I understand him to be a great hunter.”

  “He is renowned for it. He has killed a number of tigers as well as lesser—” Bess held up a hand and tilted her head back in an attitude of Speaking. Daphne held her breath. After only a few seconds, Bess said, “We are to Bound to the Residence at our own convenience.”

  “Oh!” Daphne shot to her feet. “Shall I take you first, or our things? Or should I—no, that would be foolish, why would I go alone? Bess—”

  “Let us go together to greet Sir Rodney, and then you may return for our luggage.” Bess stood and put her arm around Daphne’s shoulders. Daphne clasped Bess around the waist, lifted, and—

  In an instant, the light dimmed, and the temperature dropped slightly, enough to be noticeable but not enough to be called cool. Canvas walls, greyish-tan in color, surrounded them closely. The thorny white circle of the Bounding symbol met Daphne’s eyes. The portable Bounding chamber had not enough essence—it was too small and bland—so she was constrained to use its signature. Not that she minded, so long as it got her where she wished to be.

  She released Bess and turned around to face the entrance. The flaps of the tiny tent overlapped securely, so no distracting glimpse of the outdoors could interfere with Bounding. Even Daphne, with all her skill, would find it impossible to Bound there if the door flaps were open on an outdoor scene. She held the flap open for Bess, then ducked through herself.

  The Bounding chamber had been erected in the center of a long hallway, its floor tiled in dark blue and the walls plastered and painted a crisp white. No windows revealed the exterior of the place, and between that and the dimness of the hall, it felt comfortably shielded from the heat, though the air was still damp and smelled of mildew. Daphne had its essence almost before she registered the presence of others.

  It was quite a crowd. Captain Fletcher, smiling that private smile, stood closest to the Bounding chamber, with his companions Lieutenant Wright, Ensign Phillips, and Captain Ainsworth behind him. Beside him stood a man Daphne recognized, from Bess’s description, as Sir Rodney Coote. He was taller than she had imagined, though not as tall as Fletcher, red-headed like Phillips, and his balding forehead was
speckled with brown freckles from long exposure to the Indian sun. He, too, was smiling, in a pleasant way that Daphne found charming. She curtseyed to him, and said, “Sir Rodney.”

  “Lady Daphne. And Miss Hanley. Welcome, welcome. Such a pleasure to meet you.” Sir Rodney bowed and extended his hands to both of them. Wiry red hair grew over the backs of his hands, which were as leathery and spotted as his forehead. “Be welcome to the Residence. Shall I have—you seem to have no luggage—”

  “Oh!” Daphne exclaimed, snatching her hand away with what was not strictly politeness. “I forgot—do excuse me—” She Bounded back to Lindsey House, stacked Bess’s trunk atop her own, and was back at the Residence in time to hear the Resident say “—traveling light, but surely—”

  Sir Rodney’s voice cut off mid-sentence. Then he laughed, a great booming sound that made everyone chuckle, though Daphne could not see the joke. “If this is what an Extraordinary Bounder is, then I am truly astonished!” he exclaimed. “But I will not permit you to carry your trunk here, my dear.” He gestured, and a couple of Hindoos who had been standing against the wall, their faces filled with astonishment, hurried forward to take the trunks and disappear with them down the hall.

  “You will share a room, naturally,” Sir Rodney said, striding off after the Hindoos and forcing everyone else to trot along after him up the stairs. “It is just gone two o’clock, and I suggest you rest through the heat of the afternoon. We dine at five—I hope that is not too unfashionably early for you?”

  “Not at all, Sir Rodney,” Bess said. Daphne privately thought she might never eat again, her stomach was so full of excited butterflies, but she nodded in agreement.

  “Then here is your room, and I hope it is to your satisfaction.” Sir Rodney threw open a door at the end of the hall. It was as dimly lit as the main hall, though in this case it was because heavy shutters covered the windows, blocking out the sunlight. The air was thick and oppressive, promising rain, but despite the pervasive smell of mildew, the room did not feel damp. The Hindoos were just setting down the trunks at the feet of two European-style beds draped in the ubiquitous netting. A stand holding a basin and pitcher occupied the space between the beds, which were covered with light cotton blankets, and a fan depended from the high ceiling, motionless at the moment.