Abounding Might

by Melissa McShane

  One of the sepoys had wandered off the parade ground, fussing with his rifle, which appeared to be jammed. The captain, deep in conversation with Lord Moira, did not notice him to reprimand or call him back. Daphne watched him walk away for a few seconds, then went back to scanning the grounds.

  She saw the flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye, looked back to see the sepoy raise his gun to his shoulder, and screamed a warning before Skipping to Lord Moira’s side. The shot reverberated off the walls surrounding them. Lord Moira cried out. “No, forgive me!” Daphne cried, her arms around the Governor-General too late.

  “Get off me, Lady Daphne,” Lord Moira said irritably. Daphne let him go. He did not sound at all in pain, just angry as he usually was when speaking to her. She turned toward the sepoy, who had collapsed atop his rifle, and Skipped to the man’s side. She dropped to her knees and rolled him over, onto his back. His eyes, wide open, were a clear, glinting blue in a dark Hindoo face. Blood spread across his uniform jacket, and Daphne felt the briefest moment of dizziness before reminding herself that it no longer disturbed her.

  She stood and looked around, trying to judge where the shot had come from, and saw Lord Moira and the officers coming her way. “What the devil is going on?” Lord Moira shouted. “Who shot that man?”

  “My lord, that is the Shaper,” Daphne said. She wished she could make a grand gesture, but her hands were shaking. She had been over-confident, having captured Amitabh and rescued Sir Rodney, and had the shooter not been faster than the Shaper, Lord Moira would be dead.

  Lord Moira bent to look at him. “He looks like a sepoy,” he said. “How can we know what you say is true? Someone may have just shot an innocent man!”

  “I beg your pardon, my lord, but I am certain that was the Shaper,” Fletcher said, running up behind them. He was out of breath and carried a rifle in one hand. “I watched him join the troops drilling after the rest were already in place, then maneuver himself to where he would have a clear shot.”

  “And his eyes—my lord, the Shaper’s eyes are blue, it is very distinctive,” Daphne said, trying to regain her equilibrium.

  Lord Moira peered at the dead man’s face. “Indeed,” he said. “Thank you, Captain Fletcher.”

  “You made it possible, my lord, by cleverly trailing around in the open and luring him out,” Fletcher said. He managed to make it sound like a compliment and not a sarcastic criticism.

  “Very good shot,” Lord Moira said. “Have someone dispose of this body, and I will finish my inspection.”

  “Excuse me, my lord,” Fletcher said, “but with Amitabh captured, his troops in Madhyapatnam are without leadership. It might be possible for the regiment currently there to defeat them, without sending in further troops or attacking the civilian population.”

  “I’m of a mind to make an example of them, Fletcher,” Lord Moira said darkly. “We cannot afford to have a citizenry that harbors a secret desire for a return to an earlier regime.”

  “My lord, Madhyapatnam is in general a peaceful place. Those who went along with Amitabh’s plans did so out of a desire not to see any more bloodshed. They are also not fond of the French interlopers. I predict that were Amitabh’s defeat made public, many of the natives would rise up against his remaining men, and drive Napoleon’s men out for us.” Fletcher looked cool, in command of himself, but Daphne could see the knuckles of his fist were once again white.

  Lord Moira looked once again at the Shaper. “You ask me to take a tremendous risk,” he said.

  “With a tremendous reward, should my words prove true,” Fletcher said.

  “Very well,” Lord Moira said. “Have Colonel Dalhousie pass the word to the regiment at Madhyapatnam. In fact—” He glared at Daphne. “Since you are so keen to assist, you might Bound the colonel there so he may take command directly.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Daphne said. “Captain, may I return you to Government House?”

  “Thank you, Lady Daphne, I would appreciate it,” Fletcher said. His eyes twinkled with suppressed good humor.

  Daphne put her arms around his waist and Bounded them to the tiny chamber, but did not let go once they were there. Fletcher let out a deep sigh and cradled her cheek in one hand. “It is over,” he said.

  “Oh,” said Daphne. “I feel rather let down, which is ridiculous, as I should be happy that peace will be restored to Madhyapatnam and that the Governor-General is not dead.”

  “I always feel that way when I have completed an assignment. Being driven by a set of goals for so long leaves me at loose ends when those goals are achieved.”

  “I understand that.” She let out a sigh to match his. “I must convey Colonel Dalhousie to Madhyapatnam, and then I should visit Major Schofeld. He was so obliging while I was recovering, I feel I ought to offer him my services. He is not so terrible as I believed.”

  “Schofeld and I spoke for nearly an hour two days ago,” Fletcher said, “and to my complete surprise he apologized for his behavior in imposing his emotions on me. He claimed—well, it was a long conversation, but in the end we parted, not friends, but no longer enemies. I have no idea what prompted his change of heart, but I must agree with you, he is not terrible.”

  Daphne chose not to relate the argument she had had with Schofeld. “Then I will leave you and seek out the colonel, and speak to Major Schofeld. And after that—I do not know what will happen next.”

  “Nor do I,” Fletcher said, “and I am afraid much of it is out of our control.”

  That gave Daphne a frisson of fear she could not quite suppress before Fletcher perceived it. He smiled, a little sadly, and said, “My love, I assure you I will do whatever I can to keep you by my side.”

  “Will you?”

  “My word on it,” he said, and pulled her close for a kiss.

  In which Daphne discovers what her happy ending is

  aphne sat in the left-hand drawing room of Lindsey House and pretended to read. It had been three days since the capture of Amitabh and the death of the Shaper, and during those three days it was as if the events at Madhyapatnam had never occurred. No one from Government House had so much as Spoken to Bess, summoning Daphne; no one had come asking her to Bound anyone anywhere; and Fletcher had disappeared as thoroughly as morning mist.

  The last disturbed her most. She knew he must be busy, helping to restore Madhyapatnam to its pre-Amitabh state, but she had hoped he might find time to call on her, socially if not professionally. Had she not been utterly convinced of his love for her, she might have worried that their relationship had been the result of propinquity under extreme conditions. She made herself ignore the tiny twinge of doubt that had set up residence in a corner of her heart.

  She nearly set the book aside before remembering it was essential camouflage from Miss Donnelly, who had been making noises again about finding a project for Daphne to fill the long afternoons. Why Miss Donnelly had decided fancy sewing was exactly the thing to occupy Daphne’s empty hours, she had no idea, but she did not intend to be trapped into monogramming handkerchiefs, not even for people she knew. If only someone would provide her with meaningful employment! Lady Loudoun was still at Donington Hall, preparing her things to be Bounded to India, and would be for another day. Then the work would begin, tedious work, but better than nothing.

  ~Daphne! Oh, never mind, you cannot tell me where you are.~

  “I am in the drawing room, Bess,” Daphne called out. She laid her book aside just as Bess pushed open the door. “Please tell me you have a message for me.”

  “No, I’m afraid not.” Bess settled herself on the sofa opposite Daphne’s. “I was simply tired of being alone with my thoughts. It is—would have been John’s twenty-fifth birthday today.”

  “Oh, Bess. You have my sympathy.” Daphne hesitated. “Are you—that is, you have seemed rather—but I do not wish to judge your emotions—”

  “Have I resigned myself to his death?” Bess’s lips quirked up on one side in a self-deprecato
ry smile. “I will never stop missing him, in a way, because we were so close. He knew me as no one else did. But my heart will heal, and I will someday be able to remember him without pain. And I no longer feel guilt at not having loved him dearly. In fact—”

  “Yes?”

  Bess bit her lip. “It is a terrible thing to admit, but suppose we had been reunited, and he had persuaded me to marry him despite my feelings? I would not for all the world that he had died, but… I did say it was a terrible thing.”

  Daphne rose and hugged her friend. “I believe it is natural to look for ways in which a tragedy is not so horrid after all. And you do not mean it. You would not have married him, regardless, and someday you will find someone you do love with all your heart, and it will be glorious.”

  Bess laughed and hugged her back. “And your heart?” she said. “I wonder that Captain Fletcher has not appeared in all this time.”

  “He is no doubt busy,” Daphne said. “I can be patient.”

  “You are the very model of impatience, Daphne.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “Tomorrow I am off for England again. We—the other Bounders and I—estimate it will take a full day to convey all that Lady Loudoun insists on having brought from England. I am so grateful I was permitted to enlist a few Bounders from Fort William, or it should have taken me two days by myself.”

  “Then will your service to Lady Loudoun be at an end?”

  “I will be at her disposal until the end of next week. After that, who knows?” Daphne tried to sound carefree about it, but in her heart, she was discouraged and a little afraid. She felt like a man dangling over a cliff, holding a rope attached to he knew not what. That her future depended on what other people said or did or thought unsettled her.

  “Surely General—” Bess went silent and held up a finger for Daphne to wait while she Spoke to someone. A peculiar expression crossed her face. “That is odd,” she said when she was finished. “I had been about to say his name, and his office Spoke to me. You are to Bound to the War Office in Lisbon in half an hour.”

  “I am? Why?”

  “The War Office is never forthcoming with details like that. But I cannot imagine it does not have something to do with your new assignment.” Bess looked as wary as Daphne felt. “Daphne, if you are assigned to the Peninsula, what of Captain Fletcher? Surely the Army will not want him to leave, not with everything he understands about India?”

  “You are saying things I have thought a thousand times before, Bess. I see no solution. Besides, it is not as if he has made me any promises.” The tiny twinge of doubt redoubled.

  “Do not talk like that! He loves you, I am certain of it.”

  “But we hardly know each other! And I do not know what his intentions are. If I am to go to Spain, perhaps he imagines marriage is a mistake.”

  “Is that what you want? Marriage?”

  “Oh, I do not know what I want, Bess, except to see him again so I might ask him all these questions.”

  Bess rose, straightening her gown. “All will be well. General Omberlis will commend you for your actions here in India, and will permit you to choose your next posting.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I don’t. I am simply trying to be optimistic. You taught me that.”

  Half an hour later, Daphne trod slowly up the grand marble stairs from the War Office’s tiny Bounding chamber. The last time she had done so, she had been covered in mud and disgrace. This time, her black uniform was clean and neatly pressed, her hair was tidily pinned around her head, and the whispers she could hear but not comprehend were likely speculations on her identity. Not that there was more than one five-foot-tall female Extraordinary Bounder attached to the War Office.

  She approached the antechamber and smiled at the men standing in small groups, conversing quietly. Once again, the armchairs at the center of the room were unoccupied. After a moment’s thought, she took a seat, ignoring the whispered commentary that went up all around. She no longer felt she had anything to prove, not to General Omberlis, not to these men, and certainly not to herself.

  She leaned back and crossed her legs at the ankles, admiring the polish of her boots. They were shiny without looking new, the boots of someone who had worn them in action. She had mended a small tear in the inseam of her trousers, near the kneecap, herself. She was no longer the same woman she had been a month ago—had it truly been only a month? It felt like a lifetime. In a sense, it had been.

  General Omberlis’ door opened, and the same slim young man she had seen before emerged. He scanned the antechamber, and his eye fell on Daphne. “Lady Daphne, the general will see you now,” he said. A murmur went up again, this one sounding annoyed. Well, if they did not have the good sense to make an appointment—or to be summoned—on their own heads be it.

  General Omberlis stood at the window, looking out over the city. “Have a seat, Lady Daphne,” he said without turning around. Daphne sat and realized the height of the chair meant she either could sit on the edge like an eager puppy, or sit back and allow her feet to dangle two inches off the floor. She chose eagerness, reasoning that she needed the general to think of her as an adult for this conversation.

  The silent moment stretched out between them. Daphne looked past General Omberlis at Lisbon and wondered what he saw when he looked at it. Did he think of Lisbon as home, after all these years? Where did Daphne call home, now?

  Finally, General Omberlis turned and took his seat behind his massive desk that sat like a castle wall between them. “Lady Daphne,” he said. “I am not certain what to say.”

  “Sir?” Daphne tried not to sound puzzled. She had no idea what to expect from this conversation, but she had believed the general, at least, would know why he had called her.

  “You were sent to India to assist the Governor-General’s lady wife. You instead helped to foil an assassination plot, prevented a French invasion of one of the East India Company’s richest provinces, and saved a dozen lives, as well as discovering two new uses for Bounding. And all in one month’s time.”

  Daphne gaped. “Well, to be fair, sir,” she said, “I was also of assistance to Lady Loudoun. And those Bounding techniques are deadly, so I am not sure I should be given credit for that.”

  “Nevertheless.” General Omberlis leaned back in his chair, his wolfish eyes assessing her. “Are you free of your trouble?”

  “I am, sir. That is, blood does still make my vision cloudy at first sight, but it is slight—barely noticeable—and I never lose consciousness anymore.”

  “Excellent.” The general smiled. It was such a rare expression on his craggy face Daphne did not at first realize it was meant as reassurance. “And your service with Lady Loudoun is at an end.”

  “In nine days’ time, sir.”

  “I see. Then in ten days, you will report to this office in preparation for being sent to the front. Field Marshal Wellesley is preparing for a major push that may see our armies marching on France within the week. You will be directly under his command.”

  Field Marshal Wellesley. Daphne heard all the words after that name in a daze. The man she so admired—and she was to serve under him. To carry his orders—possibly himself!—across the battlefield. It was what she had dreamed of. Why, then, did the idea feel so hollow?

  “Of course, General,” she heard herself say, “but I… I did tell you I was fond of India.”

  “This is the War Office, Lady Daphne. We serve where we’re sent, and fondness has nothing to do with it. Service with Wellesley will guarantee your advancement within this office and will enhance your reputation as a Bounder.” General Omberlis leaned forward and lowered his voice, forcing Daphne to lean forward as well. “You suppose I don’t know how you chafe under the restrictions laid upon you, a woman, regardless of your talent? Make a name for yourself here, and you will find those restrictions evaporate. No one will ever tell Lady Daphne St. Clair what she may or may not do for the sake of propriety. Three and a half more
years, Lady Daphne, and who knows what you may accomplish? And India will still be there.” He laughed. “It has been there for thousands of years. It is unlikely it will miss you much.”

  “But—” Her objections were disappearing faster than she could lay hold of them. She could not tell the general she intended to marry when Fletcher had not spoken. General Omberlis might not care if she did. He might even tell her she was forbidden to marry until her term was up; it seemed the sort of thing the War Office might expect of its Extraordinaries. And—to serve under Wellesley… the general was correct that valiant service to him would open doors she had never dreamed of. Even if they were no longer her dream.

  Ultimately, it did not matter. She was not being offered a choice. “Thank you, General,” she said. “I will return in ten days.”

  She rose when he did and shook his enormous hand when he offered it. He held onto her hand when she would have pulled away. “You are not as happy about this as I expected you would be,” he said.

  “I am, General, it is simply not at all what I expected.”

  “Better than you expected, I hope.”

  She smiled, and felt it strain the corners of her lips as if she had forgotten how. “Different.”

  She did not bother going to the Bounding nexus for privacy, but Bounded back to her Lindsey House bedroom from the general’s antechamber. She sat on her bed and buried her face in her hands. What would she tell Fletcher? Would he believe she had abandoned him? Which she had, in a way. Where was he?

  ~Daphne, Captain Fletcher is here—you must come now!~

  Startled, Daphne Bounded, sensing Fletcher’s essence in the left-hand drawing room an instant before appearing there and startling him as well. Bess was leaving, closing the door behind herself, but she spared Daphne a wide-eyed glance that it was just as well Fletcher did not see, as her expression said clearly she intended to have the full story from Daphne later.