Mrs. Potter turned out to be a kind and patient instructor. Between her and Eleanor’s keen eyes, Deliverance learned about formal table etiquette, how to fan oneself, and how to dial a cellphone. That was the most fascinating part—the computer and the cellphone. People could talk to each other and even see each other’s faces like some kind of scrying mirror across hundreds, even thousands of miles! Each laptop was like a million books compiled into one tiny pocket, and information could be brought up at will on some sort of spider’s web, which Deliverance understood was an invisible network. The most fascinating part was these were not powered by magic, as Deliverance would have assumed, but by something called technology. She understood it to be innovation harnessed for its sole merits without the spark of magic. Even the men on Nar would be able to operate a cell phone. Well, if they had the chance or inclination. Some of them were rather resistant to change of any kind.
“Electrosity is like the circulatory system in a person, then? Only for light or power?” Deliverance asked.
“Electricity. Yes, that is a good way to understand it!” Mrs. Potter praised her.
Deliverance beamed. She rather liked pleasing the elderly, warmhearted woman. And Fades! The advancement these people had at their fingertips! It was amazing.
“We’ll have to gird your speech. Any expressions like Fades or Gods’ teeth will be dead giveaways,” Mrs. Potter warned. “But picking the Southlands as your cover origin was smart on Jack’s part. Your throaty drawl will be thought to be Southish. No one from Lontown society has really ventured down there anyway so they will not know the difference.”
“Is Southland far away?” Deliverance inquired, making a note to learn more about this nation she supposedly was from.
“It’s across the world! I shall show you on a map in the library. We are almost finished for the afternoon, aren’t we, Mrs. Potter?” Eleanor said, jumping up.
“Well I had meant to…,” Mrs. Potter protested, but Eleanor had already bounced out of the room. Deliverance shrugged and Mrs. Potter waved her on, indulgent smile on her crinkly, kind face.
***
A short while later in the immense, magical room called a library, Ellie showed her that Southland was a colony of Arcanton at the bottom tip of the world. It was considered both foreign and in higher society, backward.
“It’s unfortunate people think of Southlanders like that. I would like to visit there someday myself. I want to visit everywhere!” Eleanor exclaimed, turning the globe absently on its spire. Around them sat two stories of nothing but books, stacked in shelves, with the top level reachable by a spiraling staircase and the top shelves each accessible by sliding ladders. Deliverance had never seen so many books in all her life.
“Oh, look, this is where you are from!” Eleanor pointed to a map she had rolled out across one of the many generously sized tables in the library.
Deliverance studied the map and realized that Nar was not all that far, in relative scale, from Arcanton’s shores, which must be why they claimed political responsibility for it. She also realized, with an unsettling stir in her chest, that Nar was labeled “Narisi Restricted Zone,” not “The Island of Nar” or even just plain “Nar” as she would have expected. As she stared at the miniscule blot on the map, her intuition nagged her. Her entire world up until this point was nothing more than an ink blot the size of a small housefly in relation to the rest of the world. Sometimes she enjoyed the mountains surrounding her homestead back on Nar because they would make her feel so small in relation to them. Now, here in the library at Hathaway, she did not enjoy the feeling so much.
The rest of the manor house also had this effect on Deliverance. Eleanor described it as “just their city home,” and went on to tell her of their country home on the seaside.
“There is an even larger garden there than this one,” Eleanor said as they wound their way around the laurel hedges outside. “And you can hear the waves crashing along the sea cliffs. It’s simply magical! I imagine you will feel right at home there, when we take you.”
“You are optimistic like your brother, I see,” Deliverance commented, fingers brushing along the leafy structures absentmindedly.
“Yes…” Eleanor said, her face dropping in seriousness, “But that is rather the point of it all. Besides, Jack always gets his way. He will squash any resistance in parliament, you’ll see.”
Deliverance was not entirely sure what the entire ordeal was about, but she was beginning to understand there were large powers at play. It would not be as simple as getting help for her mother and Effie from this Lord Asher fellow, as she had previously thought.
“Ah there is Mrs. Potter over there!” Eleanor said as they rounded a corner and came into a rose garden. She waved and pulled Deliverance over to where a floppy sunhat was tending the luscious blooms. She did not seem to notice their presence at first, but instead was intent on the suffering bush before her.
“Hmm. Powdery mildew, as I suspected,” the greying lady murmured, caressing the plant carefully, avoiding its thorns. Then with a wave of her hands, a green light settled over the ailing plant, and it almost seemed to sigh in relief. Fresh, green leaves sprouted, causing the rotted ones to fall to the ground. The entire bush seemed to perk up. “There, that’s better.”
“Mrs. Potter is a hedge witch,” Eleanor explained. “It means she’s good at growing plants.”
“And little girls, it seems,” Deliverance joked.
Eleanor smiled. “That too. You should see her at the country house. She has whole rows of different types of lavenders, lemon and bee balm, various kinds of mint. It smells divine.”
“Aye, I do favor the herbs more than these fussy roses. And they tend to be more useful besides,” Mrs. Potter said, wiping the sweat from her brow.
In the pouring sunlight, the elderly lady’s normally watery grey eyes took on a soft, bottle green tinge. The autumn afternoon was unseasonably warm. “An Indian summer,” Deliverance remarked.
Eleanor twisted her mouth. “It’s funny how you have some turns of phrase in your English that…well you really aught’n know about. Like Indian summer. Where do you suppose Narisis even learned of Indians?”
Deliverance was taken aback because Eleanor was right. She really had no idea what, or who as it turns out, an Indian was. How had that phrase managed to settle itself into Narisi phraseology? There were so many mysteries she had yet to unravel. But she intended to pick at the gnarled web of information as a knitter methodically unknots her yarn.
***
It was well past dinner before Jack returned. Mrs. Potter, Eleanor, and Deliverance were sitting by the fire in the parlor, playing a card game Eleanor called “swap widget.” Deliverance found it immensely fun and was caught up in a victorious moment when Jack swept into the room, still in his coat and garters. He seemed to have brought the chill in with his brooding attitude.
“You do not seem pleased, brother,” said Eleanor, not looking up from her cards.
Jack seemed to switch instantaneously to a better mood, and came over to give his customary affections to his sister. “I am always pleased to see my favorite ladies,” he said charmingly, and added when he met Deliverance’s eyes, “You as well.”
“You sure your Aunt Claude is not included on that list, sir?” Mrs. Potter said dryly. Jack made a harrumpf noise that Deliverance assumed was an emphatic no. After handing his jacket off to a manservant and thanking him, he joined them by the fire.
“Good day ladies?” he asked, warming himself.
“Yes. The best! We taught Deliverance all about electricity and soup spoons, and how to waltz,” Eleanor gushed, forgetting her cards.
“How to waltz, eh? Who played the gentleman?” Jack asked, amused.
“I did, silly! I can waltz both roles. You know that,” Eleanor retorted.
“It’s true, she used to make me play the lady,” said Jack, a sparkle in his eye.
“It seems I am good at neither.” Deliverance laughed.
“Do not worry overly, love. Those stodgy bastards at my aunt’s stuffy ball will not expect a Southlander to be able to waltz anyway,” Jack said ruefully.
Deliverance wondered why Jack did not seem to be overly interested in his own social class of people. Were they really that frivolous? After all, Eleanor was of the same class, and Deliverance found her most entertaining and also intelligent.
“Still, I’d like to be able to. I want to drink up everything here! It’s fascinating. Electrosity…electricity! And indoor plumbing! And cellular telephones! It is all amazing.”
“Then let’s waltz!” Jack said, springing to his feet.
Mrs. Potter smiled and rang for the ballroom fireplaces to be lit. “My Jack has fire in his shoes,” she said of his antsy nature.
They ventured to the ballroom together, and Eleanor disappeared in a small side room before reappearing. She held a small remote and at a click, a waltz started playing over the speaker system in the room. Another feat of science Deliverance could hardly believe. To have an entire orchestra at one’s fingertips!
“Do you never sit still?” Deliverance asked as Jack took her in his arms, to begin the waltz.
He smiled a rakish smile at her. Deliverance was a tall woman but she still had to look up to regard him. “Hardly ever. Although I get the sense you are a woman of action yourself.”
She chatted with him easily as they moved across the floor. “Yes, I suppose I always favored the more athletic chores—wood chopping, hunting, or tending the animals. I am rubbish at knitting,” she admitted.
“You know what you are not rubbish at?” Jack asked coyly.
“What is that?”
“Waltzing.”
Fades, he was right. As soon as she was distracted she had stopped overly thinking every movement. They had been gliding elegantly together.
“You knew distracting me would help,” Deliverance said when the song came to an end.
Jack did not relinquish his hold on her, his hand still seated firmly at her waist. “Sometimes we have to venture out of ourselves to truly find our rhythm,” he said finally, eyes locked on hers. After a pause, he dropped his arms and stepped back.
“Jack, it is late. Did you have any dinner yet?” Mrs. Potter interjected, breaking the trance.
“Oh…no, I suppose not. You ladies probably would like to retire soon,” he said reluctantly, then added, “Oh, and I have not been able to get a bead on Lord Asher just yet, but I am closing in on him. Damn hermit likes to squirrel himself away. Can be a difficult bastard to get ahold of.”
“That’s okay, Jack. You will find him tomorrow,” Eleanor said, and took Deliverance’s hand. “Come on, Deliverance, let’s head up to bed.” She stifled a yawn. With her lack of hair, it reminded Deliverance a bit of a baby lamb’s yawn, all pink and new.
Over her shoulder, Deliverance heard Jack question Mrs. Potter, “Did you give Stevens a taser, for Christ’s sake?”
“Oh, aye I did.”
“He nearly shot our heads off.”
“Don’t be daft, sir. It might drop you but it would not shoot
anyone’s head off.”
“Still, why did you think it was a good idea to give Stevens a taser?”
“Well, I was not going to give him my sawed-off shotgun!” Mrs. Potter replied, as if that were the most ridiculous question in the world. There was a beat, and then a rumbling of laughter. Apparently, Mrs. Potter was a woman to be reckoned with.
Deliverance smiled at the exchange and followed Eleanor down the hall.
Later that night, as Deliverance lay amongst the fluffy bed linens, she wondered if perhaps that was what it was like to have a little sister. Holding hands, and teaching each other about things, and walks in the garden? It probably involved fights and wiping sick brows and all the other things Deliverance knew from her family life with Cat went along with being close to another female. Still, she would take it all if it meant that little girl was there.
CHAPTER 15
Jack
Jack really had no appetite when he had so many irons in the fire. Still, he obliged Mrs. Potter by grabbing an apple from the kitchen on his way out to the garden. He disliked the city manor’s garden, preferring the expansive one at the country house. It had no imposing walls. He hated walls. Thoughts kept churning in his head, making him restless as he wandered aimlessly through the hedge maze.
He had inquired at Oxdale about Lord Asher’s whereabouts and his faculty colleagues at St. Andrew’s were less than helpful.
“He’s on extended sabbatical.”
“Yes, but where?”
“He’s ON EXTENDED SABBATICAL.”
Or, “You know how he is. He could be in Antarticus for all we know. He was the last time, actually. He is secretive about his research.”
Yes, Jack knew he was secretive partly because he had to be. That had been one of the reasons the St. Andrews fellows had selected him initially to work on the Nar Project—his discretion. Also, his expertise in dealing with remote cultures. When Jack had initially approached Oxdale, they vetted him very carefully. Oxdale had a long history of thwarting the government in its radical research, and still retained its charter. Which meant they had a long history of discretion and good judgment in character. Finally, deciding Jack was genuine in his expressed interest in aiding their Nar Project efforts, they had paired him with the lead researcher, Lord Asher.
From what he understood, Lord Asher had been a firebrand in the academic community. Not least amongst his most controversial standings was his unequivocal support of Narisi freedom. When Jack finally got a hold of him, all that fire had seemed extinguished. Jack could tell a fire burning out when he saw one, after all. It was not until he got the full story that he could see why Lord Asher had all but given up, relegating himself to various hidey-holes throughout the planet to do “research.” Jack was pretty sure his research involved a detailed description of the bottom of numerous scotch bottles.
Still, he was able to ferret out the name of a student who might be able to get a hold of him. He would try the student tomorrow. He had obtained the student’s class schedule from a very helpful, very flirtatious ladder-climbing coed at the registrar. Jack was not above putting on charms when necessary. He did not find it necessary very often.
But damn. It would be this coming week. That blasted ball…although it might be a r
iot to dance the night away with Deliverance right under all those stuffy aristocrats’ noses. He rather liked the idea, honestly. That and Deliverance deserved a night of dancing and feeling beautiful and receiving all the attention she deserved. She deserved all the nights she wanted doing whatever she wanted. He hoped…no, he prayed he would be able to make that happen for her. It was going to be very hard though. There were those in high places who would rather that dream never came to fruition.
***
Deliverance
The next day Eleanor and Mrs. Potter insisted on taking her to the dressmaker.
“There are large department stores you can go to for every day clothes, but when one is of a certain social standing, one must look the part,” Eleanor said. “Honestly, I do not see what all the fuss is about. I rather like my jeans and hoodies. We shall get you some of those too. You’ll see what I mean.” Eleanor
Several hours later, in the stuffy dressmaker’s shop, Deliverance did see what she meant. She eyed the bags of comfortable, practical clothes they had bought previously at what Eleanor had called a “mall” enviously, as she stood as still as she could on the seamstress’s pedestal. She had been standing there for what felt like hours, having traced all the lines of all the bolts of fabrics lining the walls more than once while the dressmaker poked, pinned, and prodded. High society clothes were a nuisance. Not only did they take forever to tailor, but they were impractical.
When they first came in, she’d sized up Deliverance with a quick critical eye, and went to work. All Eleanor had to do was describe what functions she needed the dresses for. That was it. Mrs. Lucinda knew exactly what she wanted to see Deliverance wearing after that. She became a flurry of fabric tossing mania, selecting and discarding this material and that. Finally she settled on deep autumnal and jewel tones in velvets, chiffons, and silk.
Deliverance Page 15