“Captain Fletcher, how is this possible? There are no such things as evil spirits!”
“Just a moment, Lady Daphne.” Fletcher listened closely to Gopika, who seemed to be winding down. He spoke a few more words, to which she first nodded, then shook her head. “She says the past will not stay in the past. That if the past returns, it will bring with it new evil forces that do not care if Madhyapatnam survives. And that someone in Madhyapatnam knows the full truth, but she does not know who that person is.” Fletcher spoke to Gopika again, more forcefully, but Gopika just shook her head again. She was sagging with exhaustion, leaning against Chaaya, though her grip was as strong as ever.
“Captain, she is unwell,” Daphne said. “Can you not persuade her to come inside?”
“She either believes we are unclean or believes she is, and either way she will not enter.” Fletcher put his hand atop Daphne and Gopika’s joined ones and said something in gentle tones. Gopika smiled mischievously and answered him, then reversed her grip and put Daphne’s hand into Fletcher’s. It was so unexpected Daphne did not think to pull away. Fletcher’s smile became that beautiful, mysterious one, and he held Daphne’s hand firmly. Gopika nodded with satisfaction and spoke to Chaaya, who helped her rise. Fletcher did the same for Daphne, but did not release her when they were all standing again.
Gopika made a complicated gesture over Daphne, then again shook her finger remonstratively at Fletcher and turned to leave. Chaaya babbled something that sounded like an apology and hurried after her grandmother. “What did that mean?” Daphne said.
“She gave you her blessing,” Fletcher said. He seemed suddenly conscious that he was still holding Daphne’s hand and released her. “Miss Hanley, will you summon the others to the drawing room? It is time we held a council of war.”
“Of course, Captain,” Bess said, but rather than tilt her head back to Speak, she turned and went inside, feeling her way past the door frame. Daphne watched her go, confused at her behavior, and turned to follow her. Fletcher put a hand on her elbow, bringing her to a stop.
“Wait until they are out of sight. It is a politeness,” he said.
“Captain, you did not translate everything.”
“It was simply what I told you before, that Gopika believes we are married. She chastised me for not behaving to you as a husband should. I chose not to say that in front of Miss Hanley, in case it might embarrass you.”
“Oh.” Now Daphne did feel embarrassed. “Thank you.”
Fletcher looked off into the distance, where Chaaya and Gopika had turned a corner and disappeared from sight. “Lady Daphne,” he said, “you have nothing to fear from me.”
“I know, Captain, I trust you completely.”
“Then why—” His lips pinched tight against further words. “I apologize. You owe me no explanations, and I should not take advantage of my proximity to you.” He turned and went into the Residence, leaving Daphne more confused than ever. What had he felt from her this time? She was even less certain of her heart than she had been that morning. She wished she knew what Gopika had Seen to make her believe they were married. It was unsettling, and Daphne hated being unsettled. She went inside and closed the door firmly behind her, as if she could shut out her doubts and worries so easily.
In which an investigation has an unexpected conclusion
he entered the drawing room to find Bess and Ensign Phillips already seated there, with Fletcher pacing in front of one of the windows, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. Daphne took a seat next to Bess. There was a pale stain on the cushion—she recalled how Fletcher had lain there the previous afternoon, and tried not to feel ill at the thought. Her vision remained clear, however, which relieved her mind somewhat; at least it was only fresh blood that distressed her.
“Fletcher, so good to see you on your feet,” Captain Ainsworth said as he entered the room. He strode to where Fletcher paced and clapped him on the shoulder. “That was close.”
“Apparently,” Fletcher said with a smile. “I’m afraid I remember little save being Bounded to the Residence.”
“Well, we all survived, which I call a miracle,” Ainsworth said, glancing over his shoulder at Lieutenant Wright, who had followed him in. “And now we need only convince the colonel to permit us to continue the investigation.”
“I have already done so,” Fletcher said. “Now, if you’ll all be seated.”
“You should sit, Captain,” Daphne said.
“I will do so if I become unwell, thank you, Lady Daphne,” Fletcher said with such politeness it stung. “Our investigation has taken an unexpected turn, thanks to your visitor.”
“What visitor?” Phillips said. “Not someone wishing to speak to you, Captain?”
“It seems Lady Daphne made an impression on a local woman named Gopika,” Fletcher said. “She came to warn Lady Daphne of danger.”
“But she spoke of evil spirits, Captain, I cannot believe you will take her seriously.”
“My physical contact with her was limited, but enough to tell me she was utterly sincere in her care for your safety,” Fletcher said. “If one assumes that her reference to evil spirits was metaphorical, much might be learned from her communication.”
“The Hindoos believe in all sorts of magic,” Ainsworth said, lowering his voice the way he did when he believed he was spreading secrets. “It’s their religion, you see. Fakirs and magicians and all that are as real to them as… as the Hooghly itself.”
“That is not precisely true,” Fletcher said, directing a quelling look at Ainsworth. “They believe in the miraculous in the same way we Christians give credence to claims of the apostles of old healing the blind or the sick. The Hindoos are not fools, no more than the English, and if Gopika expresses her concerns in terms of evil spirits, that is not a reason to discount her out of hand.”
“But what can it mean?” Bess asked. “If she did not mean literal spirits?”
“My guess would be some force, some group perhaps, with evil intent. Someone who acts from hiding, concealing his, or their, identity and motives. I believe Gopika has confirmed the existence of our quarry.”
“That’s all very well,” Wright said, “but it tells us no more about this man than we already knew.”
“She also said the ‘evil spirits’ are trying to bring about a restoration of some kind.” Fletcher resumed his pacing. Daphne watched him closely for signs that he was overexerting himself, but he did not look weary or ill, just intent on the carpet where he paced. “She spoke in highly figurative language—I believe she is a storyteller of some kind. Indian storytellers refer frequently to other stories, or myths, using constructions such as ‘it is just as So-and-so did when facing the witch’ and leaving it to the listener to know the meaning of the stories to which they refer. So my understanding of the context of her words is limited. But the imagery she used was that of a fallow field being treated with fertilizers to make it acceptable ground for a particular crop.”
“Meaning that Madhyapatnam is being prepared for something,” Daphne said. “Prepared to become something.”
“You have it exactly.” Fletcher stopped his pacing to face her. “I believe our enemy’s goal is to cause disruption in Madhyapatnam. First, our man manufactured outrage at Christian missionaries that would have culminated in riots had we not arrived too soon. Then, he created an actual riot based in a general feeling that Europeans were undermining trade in Madhyapatnam.”
“Is that why?” Daphne said. “I saw only that everyone seemed quite angry.”
“It is the conclusion I was beginning to come to when the riot overcame us,” Fletcher said.
“But that makes no sense,” Phillips said. “That riot did nothing to harm us—I mean, Europeans in general, or our trade, or even this Residence. It destroyed only Hindoo property.”
“Rioters are not known for their collective intelligence,” Fletcher said. “I am certain the story being told today is that the damage is entirely the fault
of Europeans, that honest Hindoos were tricked into rioting by those who want to see Indian trade disrupted.”
“Then… is it really safe for us to remain?” Bess said. “Though I would not for the world act out of fear.”
“Individual Hindoos are no more likely to attack us than anyone.” Fletcher let out a deep breath. “It is the agents of our enemy we have to fear, and we don’t know who they are. Whoever he is, he may pretend his cause is just, but his willingness to permit innocents to suffer and die in that riot tells me Madhyapatnam’s well-being is not important to him. He wants something else, but I have no idea what that might be.”
“So what do we do?” Wright said. His voice still had that husky tone to it, as if his throat were sore. Daphne examined him more closely. Normally he sat sprawled and relaxed, taking up more than his allotted space, but today he seemed closed and stiff. He might not be as recovered as he claimed.
Fletcher resumed his pacing. “The last thing Gopika said was that someone in Madhyapatnam knows the truth about the past, and that this past will not stay hidden. We need to speak with someone who knows the history of this place and hope that person can give us some idea as to what someone might want to restore.”
“You make it sound as if some long-lost prince wishes to reclaim his throne,” Bess said.
“That was my first thought,” Fletcher said, “but there is no one left in the direct line of the last prince of Madhyapatnam to claim his place here, even were that possible.”
“I can’t imagine the Company letting control of this place go, even to a rightful ruler,” Ainsworth said. “It’s too valuable a holding.”
“One of the princesses?” Daphne said. “You did say there were two daughters, Captain.”
“They would be ineligible to rule,” Fletcher said. “No, I believe we will have to look elsewhere for our ‘restoration.’”
“So whom do we speak to?” Wright asked.
“I don’t know yet. Were this Calcutta, I could think of half a dozen scholars we might approach. Here… I fear we will have to canvas the streets again, to learn the right name. And we should begin soon, before the heat of the day sends everyone indoors to rest.”
“You ought to rest, Finn, you still look off your feed,” Ainsworth said.
“I am well enough, Lucian, don’t trouble yourself on my account,” Fletcher snapped. He consulted his pocket watch. “Gentlemen, shall we return here in, say, three hours?”
“And what of Miss Hanley and myself?” Daphne demanded.
“This is not an exercise in which you may be of help,” Fletcher said. It was not dismissive or cruel, just… impassive, as if he were commenting on the weather. “When we return, we can discuss further.”
“But—” Daphne heard her voice coming out as a whine and shut her mouth. Fletcher was correct; she could not help him, would likely be a hindrance as she did not speak the language, but it felt so much like a chastisement she wanted to beg his forgiveness. Not that she knew what she needed forgiving for.
“We will wait, and Ensign Phillips, you will tell me if you need our assistance,” Bess said, and Daphne wanted to cringe, because she did not need to be coddled or given make-work. But Phillips only nodded, and the four men left the room. Immediately they were gone, Bess said, “It is the right thing, Daphne.”
“I know, but I dislike being told to wait.”
“It is not for long. And I believe there is more to it than that. What passed between you and Captain Fletcher?”
Daphne thought about lying again and could not bear it. “I said something—it was rude, and I tried to apologize, except I did a poor job of it because I was not truly penitent—he thinks less of me now, I am sure, and—oh, Bess, why must life be so complicated?”
“He will forgive you, and it is impossible he thinks less of you. I tell you, Daphne, he cares for you deeply.”
“I know. I wish I knew what to do.”
“I believe you do know, and are unhappy about it.”
“That is likely true. I see no good way out of this situation.”
“Well,” Bess said, standing and stretching, “I will read for a while, and you may join me, or you may do your mending—your uniform is sadly torn after yesterday’s exertions. And when they return, we will make them include us, or… I cannot imagine a credible threat.”
“I will think of something,” Daphne said, “because mending is an unacceptable alternative.”
Daphne bit off the end of her thread and tugged on the seam. It gave only slightly. This was the third time she had set this seam, and finally it was straight. She blamed it on her distraction, wondering where Fletcher was and what he had learned. If only she spoke Hindoostani, she might have accompanied him! She would make friends with the servants, and perhaps convince one of them to begin to teach her his language. Yashpal, the punkah-wallah; he was young enough he might even see it as an adventure, and practice his English language skills with her.
“I take it you are finally successful,” Bess said, not looking up from her book.
“How can you tell, if you are not looking at me?”
“The lack of sotto voce profanity.”
“I do not swear, Bess, I am too well-bred for that. And besides, you should not know those words either.”
“I have brothers who are not very discreet around me.” Bess laid the book aside and adjusted her spectacles. “I should not read so long, it gives me a head-ache.”
“I have often wondered why you do not have your eyes Shaped. Surely it is possible?”
“I am told that my problem is not so much with my eyes as with the nerves themselves. All the Extraordinary Shapers I have seen are reluctant to experiment on me, for fear of me losing my vision entirely.”
“I can see how that would be a challenge. Do you resent it? Having such poor eyesight, I mean?”
“What is there to resent? My vision began degenerating when I was a child, and I cannot now remember what it was like to see clearly. It is simply how things are. I have a magnificent talent and many friends in my reticulum, and I have the experience of living in India—I feel it would be ungrateful to complain about my limitations. Particularly since I am assured my vision is as weak as it will ever become, and I need not fear losing my ability to read.”
“You are too good, Bess.”
Bess shrugged. “Today is a good day. There are others when I am not so cheerful. But for now I can be satisfied with my lot.”
The creak of the front door opening, then slamming shut, brought both of them to sit alertly up. “What time is it?” Bess asked.
“I left my watch in my room. But surely it has only been an hour?”
The drawing room door, which was ajar, opened fully as Captain Ainsworth entered. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said.
“What have you learned?” Daphne demanded.
“Well, nothing yet,” Ainsworth said hesitantly, as if taken aback by her ferocity. “It is growing too hot to remain out of doors, so I thought to return for a midday meal. Have the others not returned?”
“You are the first,” Daphne said, thinking irritable thoughts about Ainsworth’s appetite and lack of fortitude. Bess tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Daphne hoped she was communicating with Phillips, who might be able to tell them more.
“Ensign Phillips went with Lieutenant Wright,” Bess said, not opening her eyes. “They, too, are returning. I have sent word to Captain Fletcher, though of course I cannot know his intentions.”
“I will discover whether there are plans for a meal,” Ainsworth said, shutting the door behind him with some alacrity.
“His appetite is remarkable,” Bess said.
“I wonder he maintains his figure at all, with as much as he eats,” Daphne groused. “Did Ensign Phillips discover anything?”
“He tells me he feels they should discuss it with Captain Fletcher first.”
Daphne groaned and pummeled the sofa cushion. “I cannot bear waiting for things!”
She stood and shook out her newly mended uniform, then retrieved the needle from where she had impaled it on the cushion. “I will put all this away, and perhaps someone will have returned by then!”
She took her time tidying away her sewing things, then folding her uniform neatly and stowing it in her trunk, all the while ignoring the gibbering of the impatient little voice in the back of her head. Fletcher would return—he would have learned something, it was impossible that he could not. Of course the other officers were capable, and all but Phillips spoke Hindoostani, but they lacked his cool competence, his knowledge of India… She made herself stop thinking of Fletcher and considered instead when Lady Loudoun might next call for her services. Tomorrow, if she followed her usual schedule. It was increasingly difficult not to consider Lady Loudoun’s needs as an intrusion on what she now thought of as her true employment.
When she returned to the drawing room, Phillips and Wright had returned. There was no sign of Fletcher. “I should have gone with him,” Phillips said. “He cannot possibly be fully well yet. Suppose he were to collapse?”
“I can—” Daphne began.
“You would have no idea where to begin to look, Lady Daphne,” Wright said. “I am certain the captain is well.” His expression was somber, though, without its usual flirtatious smile, and it worried Daphne more than it probably should.
“He would not thank us waiting our meal on him,” Ainsworth said.
“Captain Ainsworth,” Daphne began hotly, “if you cannot—”
“He is correct,” Fletcher said, taking a few steps into the room. “You need not have waited on me.”
“Captain! What have you learned?”
Fletcher’s lips quirked with amusement, relieving Daphne’s mind considerably, for it was the same warm, interested expression that never failed to lighten her heart. “What a pity you do not speak Hindoostani, Lady Daphne,” he said. “You must be quite sick with frustration at having to stay behind.”
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