A Mosaic of Wings

by Kimberly Duffy

  Muruga’s neck corded, and his face flushed. A thin line of sweat beaded at his temples. “She was seen walking into Kodaikanal with a foreign woman Thursday morning. Where is she?”

  Nora’s heart dropped to her stomach, and she crossed her arms, gripping her elbows, to stop her shaking. She said again, in a whisper, “I haven’t seen her since Thursday morning.”

  Muruga let out a guttural shout and grabbed her forearm. He yanked her toward him, and pain snapped across her neck. “Where is she?”

  Owen shouted and lurched toward Muruga. “Release her at once!” His hands shot out, and he grabbed Muruga’s elbow and wrist, twisting them so forcefully that Muruga yelled and let go of Nora.

  She stumbled backward, Leonard’s arm making a safe cradle behind her back, and stared at the violent red mark marring her skin. The bees buzzed, bumping against her teeth and forcing her to reckon with them. She turned narrowed eyes toward Muruga, who Owen had trapped between his arms. The bees escaped, each one forming a hard, assertive word. “No. I will not tell you, and she won’t be dedicated to Yellamma.”

  Owen’s head snapped up, and his eyes widened.

  Frederic groaned. “Nora, what have you done?”

  Leonard’s arm tightened around her, an imperceptible support that made her straighten her spine and lift her chin.

  Owen spoke, his words slow and threatening. “Don’t ever come back here.”

  He pushed Muruga toward Pallavi and, with a jerk of his head, motioned for Nora to follow him. The rest trailed them, and Pallavi wailed her dirge as they all stepped into the cabin.

  Nora walked to the far corner, where sunlight spilled through beams of warped, unfinished wood. She pressed her head against the wall, not turning until the shuffling footsteps stopped and quiet fell. Only Mr. Steed’s rhythmic smoking broke the silence. She looked at him first, because she cared least what he thought. He only tilted his pipe toward her and puffed a ring of smoke.

  William took a few steps toward her. “Are you all right? Your arm.”

  She circled her thumb and forefinger around the fading mark. “I’m fine.”

  But looking around, she knew the word held little truth. A memory, so dusty she could hardly see it beneath the layer of years and memories, surfaced. Her father taking their old spaniel to the backyard, wrapped in a blanket and trembling beneath the weight of pain.

  “I have to, Bumble Bea. The tumor is too large. Sometimes we have to make hard choices for someone else’s good, even if it hurts us.”

  “I’m sorry if you disapprove of my decision,” she said, preempting whatever words Frederic was planning to shout at her.

  But he didn’t shout. In fact, it might have been less intimidating had he done so. Instead, he spoke so quietly, she had to lean forward to hear him. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

  His words tickled at something on the edge of her consciousness. Those same words, spoken by another person. And as they came into clarity, Nora remembered Lucius’s simmering anger after the dinner party. Her accusations and insults. His furious response. The fire. But this time she’d had no choice. This time she was thinking of someone other than herself. This time she’d done the hard thing, not for her own pride, but to save an innocent child.

  Fredric looked angry, but Nora saw something else in his tight jaw and the set of his shoulders. Fear. Why? Surely not of Muruga. Sita’s father was brutish, but Nora didn’t think he’d actually harm a man working for the Crown. She glanced at Owen, who raked his hands through his hair and wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  She stepped toward Frederic and pressed her hands together. Knowing Sita was safe at Swathi’s, Nora could reveal the secret that had bound the child in fear. “I couldn’t allow him to dedicate Sita to Yellamma. She’s a Christian. It would be a sin against God. Even if it hurts our work . . . I’m sorry, Frederic, but she’s worth it.”

  William crept nearer, whether to show his support of Nora’s decision or to protect her against the arrows of accusation being spit her way, she didn’t know.

  Frederic groaned. “I sympathize with the girl, but we’re not here to interfere in matters of culture. We aren’t missionaries, beholden to help the needy.”

  Heat rose to her face, and a sour taste filled her mouth. “It’s acceptable to interfere enough to impregnate someone, but not acceptable to save a child from harm?”

  Frederic recoiled as though struck. “Of which child do you speak?”

  She ignored his pale face and the way he brought his cigarette to his mouth with trembling fingers. “Sita. And yours.”

  Owen came beside her and touched her shoulder. “Nora.” His voice held a warning she was in too deep to heed.

  Frederic’s eyes turned cold. “We’ll ignore your obtuse comments about my child and instead discuss what your stunt may have cost us.” He looked down his narrow nose at her. “We are here at the request of my queen. My entire career rests on how well I do my job.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You know what this means to my family.”

  “I don’t see how helping Sita will harm your work.” She twisted away from Owen, who had grasped her arm.

  He leaned down and whispered against her ear, “Listen to him, Nora.”

  Frederic tossed his cigarette onto the floor, leaned his back against the table, and crossed his arms. “What do you think will happen to our work if the locals decide we are no longer welcome here? You virtually kidnapped one of their children, undermining their faith and way of life. Do you think Muruga is the only one who will find your actions reprehensible?”

  Nora chewed her bottom lip. She’d done the right thing. She’d seen a child in need and helped the only way she knew how. “I’m sorry this places your work in a difficult position, but I saw no other choice. I didn’t think about anything except getting Sita to safety.”

  Frederic pushed up from the table. “You’ve shown yourself unable to listen to authority, follow directions, or handle field research without hysterics. In truth, you’ve neither exceeded my expectations nor surprised me. But I am disappointed. For a moment, one brief moment, I thought having a woman in camp wouldn’t end in disaster. I was wrong.”

  Nora’s eyes darted to Owen, hoping to find an ally, but instead he looked at her with a pained expression, conflicted and distressed. William hung his head, and Leonard leaned against the wall, his feet crossed and eyes closed.

  Only Mr. Steed, with his steady gaze and quick nod, offered her the compassion and understanding she’d been searching for. And she didn’t understand it coming from him.

  Frederic tilted his head, and a deep wrinkle appeared between his eyes. “No one would blame me for sending you home today.”

  Nora reached across the space between herself and Frederic, holding her hands up in supplication. “Having me here is not a mistake. I can prove my value. I’ve discovered a new species of butterfly. I found it mud-puddling. I’m certain, if we find a swarm and can study them, it will set your book apart.”

  She hadn’t intended to offer her discovery to him. She’d wanted it for herself, in order to secure the scholarship, but if Frederic cast her out and sent her home, she could give up every hope of obtaining it. No one would take her seriously, and she couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing Professor Comstock. Of giving Lucius another reason to send her to Long Island. She needed to redeem herself, and the butterfly could do that.

  “Please,” she said.

  Frederic cast narrow eyes toward her hands. “If you’re talking about the Delias eucharis you found, I’m not interested. It was discovered over a hundred years ago and has been studied by every entomologist in Asia.”

  “It’s a different butterfly. One that looks like the Jezebel.”

  He let out a disgusted huff. “Enough, Nora. You can stay, but on probation. I don’t want you going into town without my permission. You’ll be illustrating only, and—”

  “I think that’s a little—”

  “You will do as I say, or yo
u will go home. I will risk losing Owen, although he would be stupid to give up his career for you. You will stay in camp and draw. And if you adhere to my rules, I might not tell Professor Comstock what a mess you’ve made of things.” He stared at her for a moment, his eyes dark and flashing. “I thought you had more sense.”

  He strode toward the door and paused, not looking back at her. “One more thing. You will tell Muruga where Sita is. Fix this.” He nodded at the men, who followed him out. All but Owen.

  When the cabin door slammed shut, Owen touched her arm. “Are you okay?”

  Nora shook him off and swept outside. She ducked into her tent to grab her rucksack and a butterfly net and, on her way into the forest, paused in front of Frederic, who was speaking with Mr. Steed. “May I go for a walk?”

  Frederic waved his hand. “I don’t think you can cause too much trouble searching for your mythical butterfly. But don’t get lost. I won’t come looking for you.”

  As Nora made her way toward the shola, she inhaled the heavy air, thick with the smell of decay and possibility of rain, and allowed it to clear out her lingering anger. She plunged deeper into the Palani Hills, using the net’s handle to push back creeping vines and bushy-leafed branches.

  There was no use in anger. Frederic had responded the only way he knew how—following convention and not stirring things up. Though Nora thought it highly hypocritical of him after how he’d treated Sita’s sister and niece.

  Pounding footsteps alerted her to company.

  “Nora, wait.”

  She sighed. She’d spent so much time with Owen over the last few months that she’d thought he would realize she liked to be alone after confrontation and arguments. She didn’t slow down. If he wanted to talk to her, he’d have to find her first.

  She veered off the trail and wove through some trees, her boots sinking into the heavy layer of decomposing leaves and brush. The nose-tickling scent of water drew her forward, and she reached a small pond, glistening like the jasper stone on her mother’s favorite brooch.

  Nora skirted the sludge rimming the shore and settled against a spindly tree. She stretched out her legs and rested the net over her knees.

  One of the first things her father had taught her, a small child chasing his long strides through the forests of home, was how to sit still. Quiet and patient. No matter what she watched for, if she waited long enough, she would almost always see it.

  Familiar with the habits of the Common Jezebel, Nora hoped she would notice the new butterfly. It might take a while if it was a good mimic, but since she couldn’t visit Sita and Swathi now, she had time to wait.

  She heard the parting of vegetation, and a moment later, Owen sank down beside her, huffing and puffing. “I know you heard me calling your name.”

  She ignored the accusation in his voice and trained her eyes on the shallow end of the pond directly in front of them. She dug the heel of her boot into the mire and searched for the brilliance of butterfly wings.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Owen rest his crossed arms on his knees. “Are you going to ignore me?”

  “I’m not ignoring you. I’m working.”

  “I wish you hadn’t spirited Sita away.”

  “I wish you’d defended me. You told me you’d help us!”

  “I didn’t realize you were going to sneak her out. You’ve put us all in a difficult predicament.”

  “They were going to dedicate her to the temple of a goddess. One who requires unconscionable sacrifice. Why am I the only one who sees how deplorable that is?”

  Owen sighed and shifted his body toward her. She met his gaze. She had nothing to be ashamed of.

  “It is awful. I don’t disagree with you. I wish there were some way to help her without putting our team and work at risk.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You probably made the right choice. Of course Sita is more important than some insects. Of course she is.”

  Nora watched emotions flit across his face and knew he agreed with her. Naturally he was torn—he hadn’t had the time she had to think through the issue. But she trusted him. Knew him. And the moment his eyes slid shut, she knew he accepted her actions.

  His hand reached for hers. “I just want you to succeed here. To go home and get that scholarship. Have you forgotten your goal?”

  If her actions hurt their work here in India, the news would follow her home. No one would care that she had done it in order to save a child. They would only feel justified in their beliefs that women had no place in science. In a field dominated by men, it would be the end of her career.

  “I haven’t forgotten, Owen, but what else can I do? I have a feeling my father would rather I saved a child than his magazine.”

  After silence had filled the space between them for a few minutes, Nora asked, “Don’t you want the scholarship for yourself? I thought your father wouldn’t pay for you to continue your education.”

  “He won’t.”

  “Are you no longer interested in pursuing entomology?”

  He shrugged.

  His responses needled her, and she squeezed his hand. “Well, why do you want them to offer the scholarship to me, then? It seems illogical.”

  The tips of his ears reddened, and he coughed. “I want you to succeed.”

  “At the expense of your own success?” Everyone always spoke about how mystifying women were, but no one had ever confounded her as much as Owen did.

  He gaped at her, then shook his head and smiled. “What are we watching for?” He stretched his legs in front of him, crossing his ankles, and wove his fingers between hers.

  Nora blinked at the sudden change in both his conversation and expression. “I’m sure the butterfly I collected at the mudflat is a new discovery. It’s a good mimic of the Common Jezebel, but it’s not the Jezebel.”

  “How do you know?”

  “My father had one in his collection. They have distinctive arrow-shaped orange spots on the bottoms of their wings. This one doesn’t. Its spots are blunt.”

  “Couldn’t it just be a variation or mutation?”

  “I don’t think so. The wing shape is also much wider. Anyway, I’m going to find it and watch its habits. I’m familiar with those of the Delias eucharis. They were a particular favorite of my father’s, and we read everything we could on them.”

  “Can I stay with you?”

  “Aren’t you going out with Frederic?”

  “Not today.”

  Something crossed his face, an expression Nora couldn’t quite make out, but she felt certain fear flickered in his eyes.

  Was he afraid for her?

  She remembered Muruga’s angry words and the vein throbbing in his neck. He had been furious. Furious enough to hurt her, though? Nora glanced behind them as dread snaked its way down her back.

  Ridiculous.

  A tangle of butterflies lifted from a rock across the pond, their yellow-and-orange wings marking them as either a Common Jezebel or her butterfly. Releasing Owen’s hand, she stood and walked to the edge of the pond, narrowing her eyes and gazing out over it. She lifted onto her toes and strained to see, but they were too far away. “We have to go around to the other side.”

  She grabbed her bag and net and set off in a trot. Owen kept pace with her, and she shoved her bag at him when pain threaded through her rib cage.

  By the time they rounded the pond, the butterflies had escaped their resting spot and were only a rainbow of spots dancing against the clouds. Nora, her breath caught between her chest and corset, leaned against her knees and heaved as the air slowly wended its way back into her lungs.

  She tilted her head and watched the butterflies—her future—drift away. Standing, she waved her net toward them. “Come back.”

  Owen snickered. “I’m quite sure that’s not how it works.”

  Nora blew at the tendrils of hair that frizzed around her forehead and grinned. “How does one use a butterfly net? I’m not sure I’m capable of keeping that information in m
y little brain.”

  He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her, placing one hand over hers. Together they lifted the net and swung it so that the bag caught the air and fluttered. His other hand crept over her hip, and she thought he might have caught her heart, if not a butterfly.

  “It’s easy.” His breath tickled her ear, and he pressed his cheek against hers. “You must first find a butterfly. Then you swing.”

  “And then it’s caught?”

  “It’s as easy as catching anything, I suppose.”

  She turned in his embrace. “I’ve never caught anything but insects.”

  A smile played on his lips, and he chucked her beneath the chin. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

  When he looked at her like that—as though he’d rather watch and study her than a new species—her heart twisted so violently, she wasn’t sure if it was with pain or pleasure. He leaned toward her, and his beard brushed her chin. She tipped her head toward him, and nothing but an act of God could keep her from accepting his kiss.

  Or the flash of brilliant wings.

  Nora pushed out of his arms and started for the tree not ten feet away. Its knobby roots clung to the edge of a muddy ledge and sank into the boggy water.

  “Nora!” Owen laughed and dashed after her.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him and pressed her finger to her lips. Stopping a foot from the tree, she watched the butterfly’s delicate wings beat a slow tempo as it flew languid circles above their heads.

  “Is that it?” Owen whispered as he drew near.

  “Maybe.”

  As though possessed by Hermes, another butterfly shot past Nora’s head, made a few erratic loops, and ran into the first butterfly, which fell in a graceful arc to a low-hanging rhododendron branch.

  “What in the world?” Nora rushed toward the rhododendron, but before she could reach it, she saw the second butterfly land and begin to stroke her butterfly’s antennae with its own.

  She gasped.

  “What?” Owen rested his hand on her shoulder and leaned over her.