Abounding Might

by Melissa McShane

  “You are too ill to worry about anyone but yourself,” Mama said.

  “You have just guaranteed I will make myself sick with fear. Please, tell me what has happened?”

  Mama and Papa exchanged glances, and Papa said, “Dr. Courtenay?”

  The doctor looked up, her eyes glassy with the distant look of someone Healing another. “Lady Daphne is correct; it will only hurt her to permit her imagination to run rampant. She cannot go running off for the next few days, in any case. Go ahead and tell her.”

  Papa sighed. “The Residence in Madhyapatnam is under siege by French and Indian troops,” he said. Daphne gasped, making Dr. Courtenay hold her wrist more tightly. “Major Schofeld, on his last visit, said they were holding out admirably. Sir Rodney chose not to abandon the Residence, fearing that retaking Madhyapatnam would be more difficult if there were not a European presence there. The Company sent a regiment to reinforce them, and they need only hold out for a few more days.”

  “But they will need—I must go there!” She tried to stand and discovered her legs would not respond.

  “You cannot Bound yet, and you must recover from the Healing,” Dr. Courtenay said, unmoved by her struggles.

  “Then I should recover there. Bess—my friends—”

  “We will send word by Major Schofeld that you are awake. That will have to be enough. Daphne, you nearly died! Lay down your responsibilities for a few days.” Mama’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, filling Daphne with guilty misery. And yet—how many days was it, yet, before the regiment arrived? She had lost track entirely, but surely it was more than a few. If her friends were killed, if Fletcher died and she were not there… it was unthinkable.

  “Very well,” she said. “I am simply eager—we have come through so much together—” She could not tell her parents she had fallen in love, not when Fletcher’s life was in such jeopardy. Memories of kissing him made her heart race, causing the doctor to look at her strangely, and she made herself think of something else, something less disturbing to her calm. “May I speak with Major Schofeld when he returns?”

  “If you are awake, certainly,” Papa said. “Very personable young man, that.”

  This time her father’s expression said he was weighing Schofeld’s qualities as a potential future son-in-law. He was far more eager than her mother to see her happily married; Daphne suspected him of harboring a secret wish for a regiment’s worth of grandchildren. Daphne considered telling them Schofeld was the one who had originated the Littlest Bounder epithet and decided against it. She was not sure she forgave him for it, but she could not help feeling that he genuinely had meant no harm, and she did not want her father having him beaten for it, nor her mother turning her Moving talent on him to dangle him from the eaves of Marvell Hall.

  Dr. Courtenay let go her hand and stood. “You are in perfect condition,” she said, “as perfect as Healing can make the human body. No hidden weaknesses, all your organs are fully repaired. But, Lady Daphne—” She leaned in close and put a hand on Daphne’s shoulder. “You were incredibly lucky that you were in a position to be Bounded to the hospital and that there were enough Extraordinary Shapers present to put you back together again. You cannot count on that luck holding. Do not take such risks, and do not experiment any further with Bounding.”

  Daphne swallowed. “Yes, Doctor,” she said quietly. “I beg your pardon, I should not—”

  “That was not a request for an apology, young lady. I want to see you live to grow up and, if God is just, have seven Bounder children who give you as much grief as you give your poor parents.” She straightened, and smiled at Daphne to take away the sting. “I will return tomorrow. She must rest, sleep as much as she can, and eat as much as she likes. Speak to my assistant if you have any concerns.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Mama said, escorting the doctor out. Papa stood next to Daphne’s bed, looking out the window again. Daphne saw that he, too, was holding back tears.

  “You will have to tell us of your time in India,” he said gruffly, “before you go back to the War Office.”

  “But you do not mean—surely I will return to service with Lord Moira?” Fear gripped her. To leave India… she had three and a half years left of her service, and was she to spend it elsewhere?

  “I don’t know. General Omberlis suggested that your term of service with the Governor-General might be up—something about the earl and his lady wife changing their permanent residence. But it’s nothing you need worry about now. Rest—unless you would prefer food?”

  She had not realized she was hungry until that moment. “Food, please, and lots of it,” she said, making her father laugh.

  The tray the kitchen sent up bore half a cold roast chicken, seven slices of roast beef, a loaf of rich, nutty bread she ate without bothering to slice it, and a pot of hot, delicious tea. Daphne ate as if she had never seen food before, having to consciously make herself chew slowly and thoroughly so she would not choke. She felt certain Dr. Courtenay would be bitingly sarcastic with her if she were called in to resuscitate her after choking on her meal.

  Daphne, she thought, wondered why she was thinking her own name, and realized she was being Spoken to. ~Daphne! If you are awake—oh, we are so glad! Captain Fletcher has been so distraught, blaming himself for your condition. Major Schofeld will come to you soon, and you must tell him to tell the captain not to fear. Daphne, he loves you so devotedly, it hurts me to see him in pain. I sincerely hope, if you are determined not to marry, that you may be gentle with him. We are well, and it has been very exciting, but I have asked the major to tell you what has happened so I do not continue to disturb you. You are better off where you are, I assure you, but I will not be perfectly comfortable until I can see for myself that you are well. I will Speak to you again once you have seen Major Schofeld.~

  The communication ended, and Daphne realized she had a mouthful of food she had forgotten to chew. She swallowed and pushed the tray away, her appetite gone. It had not occurred to her that Fletcher might blame himself, but now she came to think on it, it made sense. She wished she could Bound to the Residence, reassure him, perhaps find a quiet corner for more kissing… no, that would be inappropriate, if utterly wonderful. But at the very least he needed to stop taking on guilt that by all rights belonged to Amitabh and his Mover. It did not seem the kind of message she could send via Schofeld.

  A knock sounded at her door, and Mama entered. “Daphne, Major Schofeld has arrived and would like to speak with you. I believe, if you are capable of sitting, you might receive him in the blue drawing room.”

  “I am, but I do not believe I can walk,” Daphne said. She made the effort anyway, but her legs only quivered before losing strength entirely.

  “I will carry you,” Papa said. “Here, here is your dressing gown.”

  Her father’s arms were as strong as she remembered from her childhood, and he picked her up as easily as if she were that long-ago child. “You are not as plump as you look,” he commented as he carried her down the stairs.

  “No, it is mostly muscle now. I have worked so hard to become strong, I could likely lift you were I not so weakened.”

  Papa laughed. “You will have to prove it, another time.” He pushed the door to the blue drawing room open with his toe and helped her recline on a sofa. Mama covered her decorously with a soft blanket. “I will tell Major Schofeld he may enter,” she said. “We are all anxious for the latest news. We have never met your friends, but we are quite concerned for them, thanks to Major Schofeld’s reports.”

  When Mama had gone, Daphne said, “Has he told you much about them?”

  “He says Miss Hanley is nearly blind, but a talented Extraordinary Speaker, and Sir Rodney is a crack shot, as is Captain Fletcher. It is unfortunate he is a Discerner, and prone to being overwhelmed.”

  “That is not true,” Daphne said hotly. “Captain Fletcher uses his talent to good effect. I have seen him very nearly read the mind of a villain who attempted t
o burn the Residence down—it is just Major Schofeld’s spitefulness that would cast him as a weakling.”

  “The major did not suggest he was weak,” Papa said, raising an eyebrow. “But I wonder about that, given that you were forced to rescue him.”

  “That is only because he was too gallant to leave me behind when I was incapacitated! He is a true friend, and I—of course I do not regret saving him from Amitabh, who likely would have killed him when he knew the captain would not do what he wanted, and he would have done the same for me.”

  “Indeed,” Papa said, his expression inscrutable in a way that made Daphne blush and look away. “I believe I would like to meet him, since you speak so highly of him.”

  “Perhaps when this is all over,” Daphne said. How much had she given away? She simply felt incapable of telling her parents the truth.

  The door opened, admitting Mama and Major Schofeld. He did not look as if he had been in a siege, not that Daphne knew what that would look like. But, then, it was likely he had merely conveyed supplies to the defenders of the Residence, and not stayed to be shot at. He smiled broadly when he saw her. “Lady Daphne! What a pleasure to see you awake! I look forward to conveying the good news to the Residence. I believe they could use a boost to morale.”

  “Thank you, Major, I feel very well,” Daphne said, though in truth she was becoming tired. “Is everything well? Being besieged… it does not sound promising.”

  “The Residence is very defensible, though they do not have many troops.” Schofeld took a seat near Daphne’s head. “The regiment will arrive in just two days, and then it will be over. With Bounders like myself providing supplies and ammunition, they really are in very little danger.”

  Daphne doubted it was as rosy a picture as he had painted, but decided to let it go. “Did the people rise up, or was Amitabh left with only his secret army?”

  “I have no knowledge of a public uprising. Fletcher says the army is more than enough. They have been hard-pressed, but I do not believe they have lost many men.”

  “That is a relief. Do you go there often?”

  “Whenever Miss Hanley Speaks to me requesting supplies. I wonder at her. She ought to permit me to Bound her to safety, as she is a lone woman surrounded by soldiers, but she insists that this is where she is needed.”

  “Oh, I do wish I could be with her! Perhaps—”

  “Major Schofeld is not going to Bound you to the Residence in your condition,” Papa said. “You would be a liability, Daphne, and you do not want to put your friends in danger from having to defend you as well as themselves, do you?”

  Daphne scowled. “I will be well soon.”

  “Then you can go Bounding into danger soon.” Papa’s growl was belied by the twinkle in his eyes. It lightened Daphne’s heart to know she had a father who was not inclined to coddle her, even after she had nearly killed herself with her talent.

  “Yes, Lady Daphne, you would distress us all if you returned before you are ready,” Schofeld said. “In fact, you look rather tired, and I will leave you to your rest. Have you any messages you wish me to convey?”

  Daphne wished at that moment she had thought to write a message to Fletcher, though of course that would look very suspicious. What could she say to him that would not sound bizarre in Schofeld’s mouth? She wanted so badly to reassure him of her love, and urge him not to despair, but that was impossible. “Please tell them I am entirely well, and I will return soon,” she said, “and… tell Captain Fletcher, exactly, that he is not to feel guilty, and if he does insist on blaming himself, he should remember the zenana. Will you remember those exact words?”

  All three of them were looking at her as if she had gone mad, but Schofeld nodded and stood. “I will remember. Good day, Lord Claresby, Lady Claresby, Lady Daphne.”

  When he was gone, Mama said, “Daphne?” in a helpless, questioning tone of voice that said she had not been at all fooled by Daphne’s attempt at circumspection.

  Daphne blushed hotter. “I feel tired,” she said, half-truthfully. “Will you return me to my bed, Papa?”

  Mama trailed behind them as they ascended the stairs and tucked Daphne in just as if she were a child. “You know, you used to tell me everything,” she whispered, brushing a lock of hair away from Daphne’s forehead.

  “There is nothing to tell, not yet,” Daphne said, “but I promise there will be soon.”

  It was not yet dark, and although Daphne’s body ached with tiredness, her mind was not yet sleepy. She watched birds circle and dip outside her window, which her mother had left open at her request despite the coolness of the late September evening air. How soon would she be capable of Bounding? She did not want to injure herself, but her desire to return to India was a physical thing, pulling her inexorably eastward. At the Residence, it would be just after sunset, she judged. Would they have respite from the battle now it was dark, without even the light of the moon to guide their shots? She hoped Schofeld’s arrival was a relief to them. She hoped Fletcher would heed her words.

  She shifted her weight and discovered she could roll onto her side, though her legs still shook when she tried to stand on them. She lay on her side with her hand curled under her cheek and closed her eyes. She had been such a fool, so eager to prove herself and her talent by discovering a new use for Bounding, and had she not been lucky, she and Fletcher would be dead now. Risking herself was one thing, but endangering another… her fame was not worth that. Certainly not when the other in question was the man she loved.

  She let out a deep breath. So. She had fallen in love, against all her promises to herself. Promises aside, she did not regret it. But it meant she needed to review her desires. Fletcher would never permit her to Bound into danger; he would be devastated if she returned injured or, worse, did not return at all. But she was only twenty-one, and that was far too young to simply settle down.

  And what of the War Office? She wished she had thought to ask Schofeld what he knew of the possibility that Lord Moira and Lady Loudoun might not need her services anymore. If it was true that she no longer fainted at the sight of blood—something she ought to verify—General Omberlis would likely want her back in Spain, and that would separate her from Fletcher rather definitively. It surprised her to discover that the thought of returning to the Peninsula did not thrill her as it once would have. Perhaps it was the new soberness nearly being killed by her talent had instilled in her, but the idea of becoming famous for her Bounding skills no longer had the same appeal. And when she thought of her future, it was her friends that came to mind, not the accolades of men.

  She sighed deeply, appreciating as she had not before how smoothly her lungs worked, how easily they drew breath and expelled hot, moist air. Perhaps she was being premature. Fletcher had not said anything, there had been no time, and possibly he did not want to marry her. The thought gave her a pang that surprised her. She had never given any thought to marriage, certainly not as something that meant anything to her, and here she was feeling sad because a man she barely knew had not yet proposed marriage to her. It was ridiculous, and she needed to stop being a fool.

  She remembered how Fletcher had looked, there in the zenana, that smile that made her heart flutter, remembered his kisses, and another rush of pleasure suffused her. Oh, how she longed to see him again, to ask him a million questions, to speak her love as she had not been able to do before. He loved her, she was certain of it. She tried not to remember the danger he was in at that moment. That only made her heart ache more.

  ~Daphne! I hope you are not asleep. I wish I could hear your thoughts, because we are all dying to know the meaning of your message to Captain Fletcher. He developed the most unusual smile when Major Schofeld relayed it to him, and he has been so much more cheerful since. Thank you for that. It has been painful to watch him, he does not—did not smile, and was curt with all of us. I will not disturb you longer, but I thought you should know. If it was a way of declaring your love, I applaud your sneakiness.~ />
  Daphne smiled. Bess certainly seemed in good spirits. She found she could draw her legs up to her waist, and wrapped her arms around them and hugged herself. She had made him smile. She fell asleep with that knowledge warming her heart.

  In which Daphne receives new orders, and resents them

  he woke in the darkness and sat up before she remembered she could not. Carefully, she extended her legs and tried to stand. Oh, how they ached! But they supported her weight, if in a rather wobbly way, and she left her bed and walked to her window. It took more than a minute for her to cross the short space, feeling at every moment that her legs might desert her. If only she had a walking stick… but pushing herself in this small way would no doubt strengthen her, and the sooner she was back to Bounding, the better.

  She leaned out of the open window and watched the skies. Her War Office training told her it was around four o’clock in the morning. It would be full daylight in India, they would have finished breakfast and settled in for a day of being besieged. She could not remember what Major Schofeld had said about how soon the regiment would arrive to relieve them. Two days? Three? Not soon enough.

  She tottered back to her bed and made herself sit primly on the edge rather than fall face-first into it as she wanted to do. Control, that was what she needed, because that would lead to strength, and strength would lead to stamina, and at that point she would be able to Bound again.

  Her stomach pointed out to her that it was empty, had been empty for far too long, and would she kindly see to filling it? She felt around for the bell pull, but changed her mind before she could summon a servant. She needed practice walking, and this was as good an excuse as any.

  She fumbled her way into her dressing gown and put on a pair of slippers, but kicked them off after a few trial steps told her she needed direct contact with the floor if she did not want to fall down. Trailing a hand along the wall, she left her bedroom and made her slow, halting way down the hall to the stairs. There, she found her balance was sufficiently off that she was forced to sit and bump her way down, one shallow step at a time. Halfway down, she wondered why she had not lit a lamp for herself, but this night had a mystical quality she did not want to banish with tawdry, ordinary light. She reached the first floor with an abrupt jolt and sat motionless for a time, gathering the strength to stand.