“Well, I hope Fletcher appreciates your service.” Schofeld applied himself to his soup. “Lady Daphne is an extremely talented Bounder. Frankly, she is wasted here in India.”
“I am grateful to Lady Daphne for her cooperation,” Fletcher said. “She has proved a valuable member of our party.”
“Conveying all of you this afternoon—I should say so!” Sir Rodney said with a laugh. “I could hardly credit it, you know I said as much, Major.”
“Yes, and Lady Daphne, you should have requested assistance.” Schofeld regarded her sternly. “It is hardly proper for a woman to perform that conveyance for so many men.”
Daphne wished her legs were long enough that she might kick him under the table. “You know perfectly well that War Office Bounders are expected to set aside such concerns, when needs must,” she said, concealing her irritation. He was not entitled to lecture her. “And even had I known you were here, it is not as if you could have Bounded back and forth from a Bounding chamber you had never seen.”
“True. I am simply concerned for your welfare,” Schofeld said, unmoved by her edged words. “I wonder Fletcher is not as concerned.” He clapped Fletcher on the back twice, his hand lingering on Fletcher’s shoulder, the very picture of one old friend greeting another.
Fletcher’s eyes closed briefly as if in pain. His face stilled, became an emotionless mask. “I believe Lady Daphne is a better judge of her welfare than either of us,” he said, his voice distant and wooden. Daphne could not believe it was the same man she had conveyed all over the countryside that day. What had Schofeld done to him?
“Major Schofeld,” Bess said, “I have always wondered what your assignment is. You appear at Government House so rarely.”
“I am liaison to Colonel Dalhousie,” Schofeld said, “and am particularly assigned to carry confidential correspondence all over the world. It is a position of great responsibility.”
“Then I will not ask what brought you here, as I am certain you will not tell me.”
Daphne shot Bess a grateful glance. Bess, as Extraordinary Speaker to the Governor-General, held a position of even greater responsibility than Schofeld’s, but she had more than once told Daphne she felt no need to increase her consequence by advertising the fact. Daphne appreciated Bess’s intervention; she was close to being overtly rude to the major, and defending Fletcher was not her responsibility.
“So, Captain Fletcher,” Sir Rodney said, “you have not said what you learned from your journey. Why did you return so abruptly?”
“We have discovered that the missionaries who caused so much turmoil do not exist.” Fletcher pushed his soup bowl aside. “My investigation therefore has taken an unexpected turn. Not only must I now discover, if possible, who started the rumors, but I must also learn why that person or persons wanted us to believe there were missionaries stirring up trouble here.”
“Unbelievable,” Sir Rodney said. “Sounds as if someone’s playing games.”
“I sincerely hope that is the case,” said Fletcher.
“What, you’re not afraid of a real challenge, are you?” said Schofeld. His smile was pleasant enough, but his eyes gleamed with malice.
Fletcher’s expression went even more wooden. “Meaning what, Major?”
Schofeld looked suddenly wary. “Oh… just that it would be more difficult if this were the sign of some dastardly plan, don’t you suppose?”
“I am not so foolish as to believe only the difficult assignments are worth my time,” Fletcher said. Schofeld’s wary look gave way, just briefly, to anger before he controlled himself. Daphne guessed she had witnessed a blow in a long-running campaign of bitterness between the two men, not that she had any idea what it meant.
“And what are we to do tomorrow, Captain?” she asked.
Fletcher shrugged. “We will make contacts within the city and attempt to discover the truth.”
“You don’t intend to include Lady Daphne in that ‘we,’ do you, Fletcher?” Schofeld exclaimed.
“If she is willing, certainly. I have great respect for her observational skills.”
“An Extraordinary Bounder is above such things.”
“I disagree,” Daphne said, “and it is not your place to make that decision. I have already been of use to Captain Fletcher and intend to do so again.”
Schofeld said nothing, merely served himself a helping of fish from the platter in front of him. He offered it to Bess, who ignored him. Her head was tilted back in the attitude of a Speaker. Daphne paused with her fork halfway to her lips to watch her friend. As Bess’s mental conversation stretched out, all eating and speaking came to a halt, waiting for whatever news she had received.
Finally Bess opened her eyes and blinked. “You should not have stopped eating on my account,” she said. “I do beg your pardon, had I known that conversation would go on for so long I would have excused myself.”
“No trouble at all, my dear,” Sir Rodney said. “Is it something you might share?”
“Yes, in fact, I am requested to let Major Schofeld know he is wanted back at Government House at his earliest convenience to convey a very important passenger. And Lady Daphne is to report as well, to convey Lady Loudoun and her children from India to England.”
Daphne had not taken more than two bites of her mutton, and her stomach rumbled painfully at the delicious smells wafting from the dishes. Reluctantly, she pushed back from the table. “I should be no more than half an hour,” she said. “Pray do not wait on me.”
“Oh, I am certain they did not mean immediately,” Schofeld said. “We have time to eat.”
“You may do as you like, but I promised I would not permit this assignment to interfere with my real duties,” Daphne said, dropped her napkin on her abandoned seat, and Bounded to Government House.
It was considerably longer than half an hour before she returned. The children were more than usually recalcitrant, and Daphne ended up conveying not only them, but their many nurses as well. Lady Loudoun, who waited outside the Bounding chamber for each of her children, clasped Daphne’s hand when the final passenger had arrived. “Thank you for your patience,” she said.
“Oh, it is nothing—it is only what is expected of me—” Her stomach rumbled loudly, making Lady Loudoun cover her mouth to conceal a smile.
“Come with us, and someone will find you something to eat,” she said.
“No, it is well, I have my dinner waiting for me—please have someone Speak with Miss Hanley when you are ready to return.” She waited only long enough to perceive Lady Loudoun’s assent before Bounding to the cool, dim central hallway of the Residence.
Talking and laughter came from the drawing room, and light shone from beneath that door. Daphne crossed the hall to the dining room and pushed the door open, feeling unexpectedly sorry for herself. The room was dark, the table cleared—well, they could not very well just leave the dishes unattended, fair game for the billion insects that thronged Madhyapatnam. She passed through the dining room and followed the short hall to the kitchen. There, lights bloomed, and servants moved about, washing dishes and doing other kitchen-related things Daphne was unfamiliar with.
The servants all stopped in their tracks when she entered. “May I have something to eat?” she said. “I realize it is unusual, but I was forced to leave, and I am so very hungry—”
She sniffed. Something delicious was cooking over one of the fires. She drifted in that direction. One of the servants gabbled something at her, then said, “Is not for memsahib, is for us.”
“Oh! I did not mean—it smells wonderful, you see—but I would not take your meal for all the world! Is there no mutton left, or fish…?”
The servant glanced at one of his fellows, a bulky man with a huge moustache and his arms folded forbiddingly across his chest. He shrugged, then opened a cabinet wherein lay the remnants of the Residence meal. Someone had made up a plate for her, and Daphne fell to. It was not as delicious as the skewers of meat she had shared with
Fletcher that day, but it was still better than what was served at Lindsey House.
The servants were silent the whole time she ate, glancing at each other and occasionally muttering to each other in voices too low to make out, even if she had spoken their language. It made her nervous, and she ate faster, feeling impelled by the force of their presence to finish and exit with great rapidity. Finally, their silence became too much for her, and she set aside her unfinished plate and said, “Thank you—it was most kind—” and fled.
Safely back in the darkness of the dining room, she paused to take a deep breath and let out some of the tension coiled at the base of her neck. It occurred to her that she likely could have compelled them to serve her properly, at table, and probably should have; she would never have dreamed of eating in the kitchens at home in Marvell Hall, nor of embarrassing the servants.
India had cast a spell over her, drawing her in, stripping away her inhibitions. She needed to remember she was alien here, that the customs her people had imported lay like a veneer over a culture far older than her own. She breathed in, inhaling the leftover aromas of the meal and, fainter, the scent of whatever the kitchen staff had been cooking for their own meal. She felt embarrassed at her wish that they had served it at Sir Rodney’s table instead.
She chose to walk to the drawing room rather than Bound in. Bounding to a room whose essence she knew but that was full of people was difficult in a way she could never explain to anyone but another Extraordinary Bounder. People had essence, though in a completely different way from a location, and it took skill and effort to sort those human essences from that of a room. And, of course, it was uncivil behavior to simply appear in the middle of a gathering except under emergency circumstances. She leaned on the dining room door rather heavily and trudged across the hall, only to see the drawing room door open and Captain Fletcher emerge.
His eyes gave away his surprise at seeing her, though the rest of his face was still set and wooden. Daphne felt downcast that he did not appear pleased to see her. “Lady Daphne,” he said, “we seem to have abandoned you.”
“Oh, it is nothing, Captain, nothing too terrible. I would have felt most unhappy had you all waited your supper on me, and I have eaten—are you leaving, then?”
“I feel unwell, and tomorrow will come early, so I thought to excuse myself.”
His voice sounded as if it were coming from very far away, and he was no longer looking at her, but at something at the end of the hallway. Daphne was struck by an urge to poke him, to strike him, anything to return him from the distant land his spirit was roaming in. “Unwell? I hope it is nothing serious—shall we rise early, then, and return to the bazaar?”
“I have not yet decided. But you should remain here. Schofeld is right, this work is beneath you.”
Daphne sucked in an annoyed breath. “Major Schofeld has never been right about anything in his entire life, and I wonder that you should give credence to anything he has to say, given how long you have known him, and I—he certainly can have no interest in my well-being, unless he considers himself so… so attractive that I might forgive him his conduct toward me—”
Fletcher’s eyes focused on her, and a smile touched his lips. “His conduct toward you? You seemed rather friendly, earlier.”
“You must have been too focused on your own distress not to have noticed the unfriendliness of my speech to him. Major Schofeld is not my friend, and I wish he would stop trying to be.”
The smile vanished. “My distress?”
Too late Daphne remembered from what source she had heard of Fletcher’s dislike of Schofeld. “I—that is, Captain—I have heard that Major Schofeld—that you and he are old… I do not know if you are enemies, but he is able to… turn his emotions on you—” The wooden look had returned, but this time it made Daphne’s heart ache at being the cause of it. Curse her witless tongue! “I—it is too bad, and Major Schofeld is—he called me the Littlest Bounder and mocked me, so I know—oh, Captain, I beg your pardon, I should not have said anything!”
“You are certainly correct in your assessment of Schofeld’s character,” Fletcher said, without warmth, without so much as the hint of a smile. “I am very glad you are not fooled by him. I would hate to imagine him imposing himself on your good nature.”
“I am much too observant for that, I am nearly as good as a Discerner—oh, but you are a Discerner, I should not have—I meant that Discerners must be observant, and so must Bounders, but you—”
He was as wooden as he had been at dinner, as if he were containing some emotion that would otherwise overwhelm him, and the difference between that and the man Daphne was coming to know was so stark it made her want to weep.
“Please excuse me, Lady Daphne, I wish to retire. We will speak again in the morning.” Fletcher nodded in farewell and made to walk away past her. Despairing, Daphne reached out and without thinking put her hand on Fletcher’s arm, not trying to stop him, simply wishing she could repair the damage her careless words had done. To make him look at her again as a friend, if that was what they were to each other.
Fletcher gasped, and his eyes went wide and startled. Quicker than thought, he grabbed Daphne’s wrist and tore her hand away from his arm, but rather than release her, he gripped her so tightly she squeaked in surprise and pain. “You—” he said, focusing that dark gaze on her so intently she wished she could Bound away from him. His hand anchored her to the floor; she could not Bound without taking him with her. They stood staring at each other, motionless, and Daphne wished desperately she could read his emotions as easily as he could hers. Not that she knew what she was feeling, herself. Her heart was in turmoil, shame and regret and longing all mixed together and waiting for some sign from him to tell her which should come out on top.
Fletcher seemed to realize how tightly he was holding her, and loosened his grip without letting go. “I apologize,” he said. “I should not have behaved so. Thank you.”
“For what, Captain?” She could have pulled away from his grasp, but she did not want to.
“For not pitying me. I despise pity, particularly from those—” He looked away, and this time he did release her. “Thank you.”
“You are not an object of pity, Captain. I respect you for—oh, for so many things. You have overcome your weaknesses, which is more than I can say for myself.”
He smiled, and a little of the ache went away. “I find it difficult to believe you have not conquered your weaknesses. The Littlest Bounder, eh? I imagine Schofeld was not the only one to use that epithet.”
“No, he was not, but I—” The dimness of the hall, and how close they stood, made her very nearly reveal her darkest secret, but her heart quailed at the thought. “At any rate, if you believe I would think less of you simply because Major Schofeld is insensitive, then you are foolish, and I do not suppose you foolish.”
Fletcher let out a breath. “Oh, I am a fool, but not about that. Lady Daphne, you are remarkable.”
“Thank you, Captain. So are you.”
That made him laugh, quietly so as not to draw attention from the party in the dining room. “I wonder about that. And now I really must excuse myself. My… reaction… to Schofeld’s behavior leaves me weary and makes me poor company.”
“Oh! But—perhaps it is prying, but what—you seemed so stiff and even angry—”
“A Discerner’s response to someone capable of imposing his emotions on him is to lock all emotions away, to effectively shut down his talent until the situation has passed. It is extremely uncomfortable.”
“I should say so! But it cannot be a common occurrence.”
“It is rare, yes, for which I am grateful. I have met only two people who were capable of doing it consciously.”
“What of… of Coercers? Like Napoleon? Have you ever encountered—oh, but you are tired, and here I am harassing you when I am certain you wish only for bed.”
Fletcher laughed again. “A Coercer’s talent is different, and as a Dis
cerner I am immune to it. And I find talking to you more relaxing even than a good night’s sleep.”
Daphne blushed, because the admiring, interested look was back in his eyes, and despite the part of her that shrieked a warning reminder that she had no interest in forming an attachment, she did not want him to leave. “Then you have met Coercers. I thought there were none in England.”
“There are likely as many Coercers as Discerners in England. They are just very good at concealing their talent. And not all of them use it for evil.” He covered his mouth as he yawned. “It seems I am in more need of rest than I imagined.”
“I beg your pardon, Captain, I should not have kept you.”
“As I said, talking to you relaxes me. Thank you for that.” He yawned again, more widely. “We will speak again in the morning, when I have decided on a course of action.”
“Of course. Good night, Captain.” Daphne curtseyed to him, which made him smile and clasp her hand briefly in farewell. She watched him walk away toward the stairs before continuing across the hall to the drawing room. She paused with her hand resting on the doorknob and willed away her foolish smile. For someone who intended not to permit romantic entanglements to interfere with her life of adventure, she had been remarkably intent on restoring Fletcher’s good opinion of her. Well, she could not know his heart, and probably he thought of her as a friend, and that was as it should be. Even so, she found herself hoping morning would come quickly.
In which calamity strikes
aphne drew back the curtains of her palanquin, not caring, on this beautiful clear morning, that she was drawing attention to herself. Damp breezes touched her face, bringing with them the scents and sounds of the bazaar. How long would she have to remain in Madhyapatnam before they became, first familiar, and then commonplace? A small child wearing nothing but a cotton breechclout stared at her, sucking its fingers. She smiled and waved, and the child ducked behind its mother’s skirt. Young Lady Selina, Lady Loudoun’s youngest child but one, did the same thing when confronted with a stranger. It must surely mean something that such behaviors appeared universal.
Abounding Might Page 10