After the production of iron, the second business of the town seemed to be housing, feeding, and entertaining the French and their English captives. She found streets of auberges, inns, and lodging-houses, all with signs in French as well as Venusian curves, but some also bearing names in English; among these were interspersed a variety of clubs, shops, and restaurants, almost all of them run by Venusians. In one of these she drank a glass of sherbet, to refresh herself after her long walk in the already-stifling heat of the morning, and found that this small indulgence consumed most of the local money the captain had given her. The prices, she began to realize, were indeed ruinously inflated.
She also found the gaming-house, which bore a large sign in French alone: CETTE BANQUE / EST MAINTENUE / POUR LES ANGLAIS / LES FRANÇAIS SONT INTERDITES / À JOUER ICI. This bank is maintained for the English; the French are forbidden to play here. At that she could only smile ruefully and shake her head. The town’s French administrators were obviously well aware of the destructive power of gambling, and wished to direct that weapon only at their captives and not at their own men.
As she turned away from the gaming-house, she was surprised to hear a voice from behind her calling “Miss Ashby!” She turned back and was even further surprised that the source of the call was Captain Fox, just departing the establishment and tucking his wallet into his jacket pocket.
“It is Mrs. Singh now, sir,” she reminded him, even as she approached him with a genuine smile.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said, smiling equally broadly and bowing over her hand. “I am pleased to see you well.”
“And I you.” She cast a glance over his shoulder at the door from which he had just emerged. “I would have thought that, after Burke’s Club, you would give up gambling for ever.”
At that he had the grace to look abashed, but only for a moment. “Perhaps a wiser man than I would have done so. But”—he patted his pocket—“my luck so far has been exemplary.”
“Do not depend upon that, sir. I have reason to believe that the games are not entirely legitimate. They may only be allowing you to win at first, in order to set the hook more deeply.”
“I thank you for that advice.” The expression on his face seemed to indicate he had no intention of following it. However, that expression quickly changed to one more earnest and circumspect, and he glanced up and down the street before continuing in a lower register. “May I have a word with you, in private?”
Her initial reaction was to refuse, for propriety’s sake, but then she reflected that in every one’s eyes she was now a married woman, and furthermore Fox’s attitude was not at all salacious. “Certainly, sir. Let us walk without the palisade.”
They made their way to the gate, and through it to the wooded paths beyond. As they walked they discussed mutual acquaintances—the Touchstones were employed in the dreadful heat of the furnace-house, hauling carts of ore to the top and removing bars of hot cast iron from the bottom, and were housed in a separate barracks from the Dianas—and commiserated upon the miseries of the Venusian climate, especially the torrential rains which drenched every thing each afternoon.
Once well away from the guards, shaded by the over-arching limbs of giant ferns and surrounded by the rustles and chitters of the local fauna, Fox paused and said, “I must apologize for being the cause of your incarceration in this awful place.”
“No apology is necessary, sir. It was I who insisted on coming, and the French who captured us and brought us here.”
“Nonetheless, as captain it was my responsibility to keep my ship, crew, and passengers from harm, and in that I have failed.” He looked around before continuing. “I intend to make it up to you.”
His tone and expression were so earnest that her heart raced a bit. “How so?”
“My officers and I have formed a plan of escape, and I would have you join with us.”
This statement did nothing to calm her exhilaration, especially given the contrast with Captain Singh’s reluctance to consider the possibility. However, she immediately realized, her captain’s caution was not without a sound foundation, and she attempted to tamp her enthusiasm down. “I thank you for the invitation, sir, but the difficulties are enormous. We are surrounded by trackless jungle, hostile natives, and fierce beasts. What is your plan to evade them?”
“Once every eight days, a train of carriages comes from the port bearing supplies, departing nearly empty. We intend to secret ourselves aboard, then once we reach the port, purchase passage off-planet.”
“How many is ‘we’?”
“My entire crew, or at least as many as we can convince to take the risk.”
“How can you possibly avoid detection?”
Again he patted his pocket. “This is why I have been engaged in multiplying my funds. With sufficient money, all things are possible.”
At that moment, Arabella was very keenly aware of the letter of note that stiffened the lining of her reticule, but the thrilling possibility of escape warred in her breast with deep skepticism of the plan’s chances for success. Bold and simple though it was—in fact, because of its boldness and simplicity—it seemed vulnerable. Even a single insufficiently-bribed official could bring the whole plan to a disastrous halt. “I … I thank you again, sir, and I will give your invitation serious consideration.” She bit her lip. “However, I could not possibly consider attempting to escape without my husband, and indeed the rest of his crew.”
“I cannot say I did not expect this response.” Fox closed his eyes and shook his head. “I must apologize, but there is no possibility of expanding the scheme much beyond my own crew. As you were my passenger, I accept some responsibility for you, and of course I feel very tenderly toward you as a person. However, the supply-train is only so large, and my funds extend only so far.” Arabella’s hand tightened on her reticule, which crinkled; Fox looked deeply into her eyes. “Your husband is a brave and experienced captain, and I am certain he has escape plans of his own. He would, I am sure, prefer that you make your way to safety when you can, and he will follow as soon as he is able.”
She dropped her eyes from his earnest gaze, too ashamed to admit Captain Singh’s unwillingness to consider escape as a possibility. “I would have to consult with him first.”
“I must ask that you do not. The more people who know of the plan, the greater the chance of detection.”
She turned away from him, her arms crossed upon her breast with the reticule clutched tightly beneath them. Weak, hazy sunlight filtered down through the sweltering fronds, and alien creatures muttered in the undergrowth. It was a beastly place, and she desired nothing more than to depart it, the sooner the better … but to do so without her captain would fly in the face of her very reason for coming here.
Arabella sighed and turned back to Fox. “In that case I must decline. But I thank you most sincerely for your consideration, and I wish you the very best of fortune.”
Fox inclined his head. “I do understand, ma’am, and if circumstances change you may always approach me.”
“I hope that you will do the same for me.”
“Of course.” He offered his elbow. “May I accompany you back to your lodgings?”
They returned to Marieville in silence, each occupied by their own thoughts.
14
FOUCHÉ
Captain Singh’s “financial contact” proved to be a small, oily Frenchman whose position in the manoir’s kitchen staff sent a substantial stream of funds passing through his greasy fingers. She distrusted him immediately—and the captain assured her that this distrust was not unreasonable—but he was, the captain assured her, both cowardly enough and shrewd enough to keep the transaction secret for his own safety.
In exchange for her five-hundred-pound note, Arabella received four hundred and eighty livres in twenty- and forty-livre gold coins, each stamped with Napoleon’s head surmounted by a laurel wreath. The reverse bore another laurel, the words EMPIRE FRANÇAIS and VENUS, an
d an inscription in the worm-like Venusian script. Arabella retained one hundred livres for herself and gave the rest to the captain for the benefit of the crew.
“At the official exchange rate,” the captain remarked as they departed the shed behind the manoir, “you would have received over twelve hundred livres. But exchanging such a large quantity through official channels would be illegal, and even in many smaller transactions would certainly have been noticed. This is, I believe, the best rate we could practicably have obtained.”
“I am certain that it is.” And, indeed, she did trust her captain, with her funds, her heart, and her very life—though she wished he would take her further into his confidences, and that he would at least entertain the possibility of escape.
Still, she reflected, even if she must spend the rest of the war in this sweltering jungle, at least she would have the company of her beloved.
* * *
Days passed. The captain quickly put Arabella’s money to good use, obtaining laudanum for the relief of Bates’s pain and good red meat to supplement the meagre rations supplied by the French, as well as other long-needed necessities. Arabella was not made privy to the means by which these supplies were obtained, which vexed her somewhat; the captain apologized, but said that the men with whom he was dealing were secretive and wished to keep the number of people involved to a minimum.
The effect of these additional provisions on the men’s morale was dramatic and immediate. Even as the men went off to their labors they seemed to do so with more spring in their steps, and in the evenings the barracks rang with ribald songs. The fact that Arabella was the source of this bounty was no secret, and the Dianas’ already affectionate attitude toward her grew even warmer.
But Fouché was still on his way—according to rumor he would arrive and take charge within days—and she feared that once he did the small comforts her funds had obtained, and more, would be taken away, leaving the men even worse off than before she had arrived.
And so she fretted, and paced, and slept poorly even on those nights when she had the use of the bed.
* * *
One afternoon she found herself at a small cafe, sharing a table with Fox while her captain was off on some errand of his own. “Why,” she demanded of Fox, “do the strictures of parole carry so much weight? It seems to me that if you and the other officers took it into your heads to walk away from Marieville this afternoon, you could do so and the guards would not stop you. Yet none of you have done so, and indeed it seems Captain Singh would not even consider the attempt.”
Fox sipped his tea—it was weak, insipid stuff, the Venusians lacking the least conception of its proper preparation—and stared off into the distance for a contemplative moment before replying. “An English gentleman’s parole,” he said, “is his word of honor—stronger than any chain and more durable than any wall. When a man gives his parole as a prisoner of war, he promises not to take up arms against his captors, nor indeed to hinder them in any way, and that promise is as binding as any debt, or even a proposal of marriage. To renege on such a solemn promise would blight a man’s honor and prevent him from being trusted by any one thereafter.”
“Even a promise given under duress, to such villains as the French?”
“Even so; a man’s word is his bond. Indeed, a promise of parole has the very force of law.” He set down his cup and leaned forward earnestly. “One Lieutenant Sheehy, of the Eighty-ninth Foot, flagrantly violated his parole in his escape from Verdun. When the circumstances of his escape became known, the Prince Regent personally insisted that he be publicly reprimanded and sent back to the French!”
“But English officers escape from prison all the time,” Arabella protested, having read many accounts of such escapes in her preparations for the journey to Venus. “How can they do so in good conscience?”
“Some officers purposely commit some minor offense, resulting in the revocation of parole, before making their escape. Others write to the prison commandant on the eve of their departure, formally rescinding their parole and bidding their gaolers a cordial farewell. To be fair, such a letter may not be received until after the officer has absented himself, but it is felt that to send such a letter satisfies the proprieties.”
Arabella raised an eyebrow. “May I assume that you have already prepared such a letter yourself?”
Fox glanced around before responding in a low tone. “Unfortunately, the appropriate circumstances for such a letter may be some time in coming. My financial dealings have not gone quite so well as I had hoped.” He seemed to draw inward for a moment, then continued, “I do have alternatives, but I am loath to employ them. We shall see.”
“I did warn you that the gaming-house is little more than a mint for Lefevre.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “You did indeed, ma’am. But even a rigged game can be won, if one is willing and able to play the game above the visible game. In fact, a dishonest roulette wheel is actually easier to cheat…”
As Fox warmed to his subject, she reflected that he was a bit of a scoundrel, and a tease into the bargain. But he was at least straightforward and open about it … in contrast to Captain Singh, who combined unassailable moral probity with a frustrating secrecy about his most important dealings. And Fox’s continued efforts toward escape, despite her doubts as to their eventual success, were refreshing by comparison with her captain’s stolid devotion to his men’s comfort. If only Fox’s qualities and Captain Singh’s could be combined in a single man!
“… but I am becoming tedious,” Fox said, breaking into her reverie. “I do apologize.”
“Not in the least, sir.” She smiled and met his eye above the rim of her cup as she finished her tea. “Not in the least.”
* * *
Some days later Arabella and Lady Corey were engaged in a game of piquet in the sitting-room of the manoir. Arabella inspected her hand after discarding, finding five spades. “Point of five,” she declared.
“Not good,” Lady Corey replied, denying her the points.
Arabella’s five spades included a sequence of three. “Tierce.”
“Not good.”
Arabella sighed. “Trio of aces?”
“Good.”
“Three points for me, then.” Arabella led the king of spades, scoring the point for first lead. “Four.”
“Point of six for six, and sixième for sixteen. Twenty-two points.” She then laid the ace of spades across Arabella’s king, taking the trick. “Twenty-three.”
Arabella sighed again. Twenty-three to four already, and the hand had barely begun.
Lady Corey paused before leading. “Really, child, you should not have declared your tierce. Look at your cards. Have you any clubs at all?”
Arabella said nothing, but she held just two: the ace and seven.
“You know from the fact your point of five was not good that I hold at least six cards in a single suit. Your paucity of clubs should tell you which suit that is, and as you hold at most the ace and seven you can be certain at least six of mine are in sequence. Your declaration of tierce had no chance of being good, and only gave me additional information.”
Arabella set her cards down with another sigh. “I am afraid my attention is not on the game.” Indeed, Lady Corey had been trouncing her soundly all afternoon.
Lady Corey, too, folded her hand. “What is the matter, my dear?”
Arabella bit her lip before continuing. “I … I fear I am not suited to the role of captain’s wife. I assist Captain Singh in his duties, I administer aid and comfort to the men, I dine with the officers, I visit with you … I am doing my very best to be useful, but I find the whole thing wearying and lowering. Not,” she appended hastily, “that I do not enjoy the time spent with you. But I cannot be happy unless I am doing something.”
“And I do enjoy your visits.” Lady Corey fanned herself contemplatively, though the fan’s small motion had little effect on the stupefying heat of a Venusian afternoon. “
I appreciate your situation; when I was a child, my family recently arrived on Mars, my mother often complained of boredom despite the constant round of visitations and entertainments.” She snapped her fan closed. “You must take up a hobby! Painting, perhaps.”
“Perhaps,” Arabella allowed, though she found the idea tedious in the extreme. “Or perhaps the study of foreign languages. I have been attempting to teach myself Venusian…”
The expression on Lady Corey’s face told Arabella she considered the study of the Venusian language even less appealing than the local cuisine. “I cannot imagine why. The croaking of giant frogs? It cannot be other than noise.”
“They are not merely giant frogs! They are people, albeit people with a different appearance, and their craft and culture repay study. We could learn a thing or two from them when it comes to the breeding of animals. And I have observed them carving delightful little figurines, and engaging in games every bit as complex as piquet.” She picked up her hand of cards and squared it, tapping it repeatedly on the table. “I have even managed to puzzle out some of their verbs … though the language seems inexplicably inconsistent.”
Lady Corey’s reply was drowned out by a blare of trumpets and rattle of drums from without. Martial sounds such as these were not uncommon in Marieville, but this fanfare seemed louder and more insistent, and was followed almost immediately by the drumming of boots upon floors and frantic shouts in French from throughout the manoir. Arabella stepped to the window, where she saw the French officers dashing about like zoresh from a kicked-over nest.
“What on Earth has them so put out?” Lady Corey demanded of her. “You know I cannot comprehend their jabber.”
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