by Imogene Nix
“How long, Captain?”
“Not long. Several hours, I would presume, Miss Elspeth.”
“Excellent.” With that Elspeth returned below decks.
* * * *
Elspeth looked down on the hubbub from the railing of the Zephyr, watching as Quartermaine disappeared into the boiling mass of humanity of the wharf. Women and men in strange, bright clothing moved rapidly here and there. The bay too was busy with ships loading and offloading cargo, the lowing of cattle matching the cacophony of cries on the dock. There was also a contingent of marines, their rifles gripped tightly. She’d enquired why they were needed, and the captain’s face had tightened.
“Riots, Miss Forster. They tried to gain control of the areas outside of Bombay and in the interior, but our troops dealt with the insurrection.”
“They didn’t get into Bombay then?”
“Not this time.”
Her hands gripped the oiled wood as she ate up the scene unfolding before her. She noted the turbaned men, their pale pants and slipper-like shoes, and the women with brightly covered scarves and long gowns. Every now and again one would look up, their face tight and vicious, and she’d draw away from the side.
Footsteps heralded the captain moving close alongside her. “Some women assume western garb, while others remain in the traditional saree.”
She quirked an eyebrow at Captain Elliott, but he moved away, leaving her alone once more. She turned back, noting the gentlemen and soldiers who strolled among the masses, curling moustaches and uniforms standing out like drab herons among the colorful parade.
The city beyond beckoned, but she remained resolute at the rail, taking in as much as she could of the town from her view. The white buildings in the distance and lining the foreshore, so alien in design, caught her eyes. Rounded rooflines married with the gothic columns. Bombay was not a city that they had time to explore, and according to the harbor master, it wasn’t safe.
This port was merely a short stop to seek medical assistance and replenish their supplies enough to see them through to their ultimate destination. Captain Elliott had cautioned her against leaving the ship, so she hadn’t even ventured down the gangplank. It went against all her instincts to refrain from exploring this foreign land, but it was far too dangerous for a white memsahib to venture ashore alone, and because of the precious cargo of seed they carried, the ship required guarding. It would remain that way until they set sail once more.
Her need to traverse and inspect would be neither useful nor a businesslike decision, she silently admitted. So, she waited for Quartermaine to return with a physician in tow.
“Oh, Isabelle, if only you could see this.” Her sister remained holed up in their cabin, too ill to leave her bunk.
The scent of spices filled the air, and she breathed deeply, her senses welcoming the redolent smells. She tugged at her collar, the closely heated dampness making her skin itch in the humid air. Elspeth raised her head and noted the heavy, black clouds rolling in.
When we reach Calcutta I shall have new gowns, suitable for the weather, made up for both of us. Maybe she’d even instruct the seamstress to furnish her with a saree, she thought with a smile.
Within an hour, Quartermaine returned, bounding up the gangplank, while their seamen loaded the necessary supplies the captain had ordered. He was followed by two men and a woman. The older gentleman was mopping his face with a cloth, his face red with exertion. She could easily pick the doctor, and watched the stony-faced woman who accompanied him.
Her gaze ranged over the newcomers and settled on the younger man beside the doctor.
Who is the other man with Quartermaine? He was tall. Muscular, if the fit of his jacket was anything to go by, with a strong jaw and piercing gray eyes. There was an indefinable quality about him. The presence drew her gaze, holding it prisoner.
The doctor in a severe black suit queried Isabelle’s illness and snapped her back to reality. “What symptoms does my patient exhibit?”
She stepped forward. “Doctor? If you would follow me, I’ll take you to my sister.”
The physician smiled at her, kindly, she thought. He was well-rounded with a rather large moustache, curled at the end. His dark hair was cut quite short against his scalp, probably because of the heat, she imagined.
“I have brought Mrs. Ellington with me. She acts as my nurse.”
The woman smiled, and Elspeth realized she wasn’t as old as her first impression had given. Perhaps in her third decade she’d surmised, but now, on closer inspection, she would guess younger than that. Being dressed in the heavy black of mourning aged her.
“How do you do? Doctor, Mrs. Ellington, if you’ll follow me.” She moved quickly across the deck, leading the way. “My sister has been running fevers, exhibiting a dry cough. The captain...” She stopped her words, swallowing the dread. “The captain fears it could be malaria.”
They clattered down the tiny stairs and headed directly to the cabin. As Elspeth pushed the door back, she could see the concern on the doctor’s face, feeding the terror which had lodged within her chest. So many illnesses are fatal. Elspeth banished the thought with difficulty. She closed the door, hanging back while the doctor and Mrs. Ellington consulted with Isabelle. The entire time, she bunched her fingers together, trying to be positive about the situation.
Eventually, with a grunt, the doctor turned back. “In my considered opinion, Miss Isabelle does indeed have malaria.”
She gasped, unable to contain the single sound of panic. “What... What can we do?” The captain’s words hovered at the edges of her consciousness. Many died from malaria. I can’t lose Isabelle. She fought and controlled the panic again.
“Come, Miss Forster. Let us go up top, and I can explain the treatment while Mrs. Ellington makes your sister more comfortable.”
She followed the doctor back up the corridor and out into the sun.
“Your sister is lucky in that she has only been ill a short period of time, according to Mr. Quartermaine. But let me be blunt. She requires rest and nursing. Also she will require regular doses of quinine.”
Elspeth frowned. “But... Will she be able to travel? We must reach Calcutta, as we have urgently required cargo.”
The doctor harrumphed. “The tonic Mrs. Ellington is administering will help. It’s quinine-based. The most effective tonic available, and is under patent to the Admiralty. But it’s no good without all the other precautions in place. To be quite frank, Miss Forster, I would feel better if she were in the infirmary here. Under a physician’s direction.”
Elspeth worried her lip as she considered his words. “What kind of precautions?” She looked into the doctor’s face. “We really can’t afford to wait, and from the looks of those clouds, we won’t have much time here.” The need to consider and decide weighed heavily on her mind.
He nodded. “I understand. Keep her quiet. Treat her symptoms as usual, plenty of cool, damp cloths and water. Soft foods would be best, and bed rest. Will you be able to cope with that, Miss Forster? Or will you require a nurse?”
She turned away as doubts and fears assailed her. Would it be better to have a nurse on hand? It would be one more body aboard the ship. After the loss of Ellie, Elspeth wasn’t sure she wanted to be responsible for another soul, yet on the other hand, another woman aboard would be useful...and welcome. Someone to talk to.
“Do you know of someone?” The sound of footsteps behind her caught Elspeth’s attention.
“Miss Forster? I’m looking to return to England now that I have nothing to keep me here.”
She turned in the direction of the dour Mrs. Ellington.
“I would be more than happy to nurse your sister, especially if….”
Elspeth blinked rapidly, letting her mind turn over the situation.
“Doctor? Are you able to release Mrs. Ellington? We can ensure that she reaches England aboard our ship.” She gnawed at her lip as the doctor’s mouth flattened. It seemed that he was unhapp
y to be losing his nurse. “And my sister would have adequate and skilled care. We would even compensate you and Mrs. Ellington.” She hoped to sweeten the deal with funds, so they could swiftly seal the agreement.
“Then I must concede. She will be in no more danger aboard the ship than she would be here. In fact, possibly even better cared for. Your journey won’t be long, and there are more physicians and better facilities in Calcutta.” He sighed. “But you have stolen away my best nurse.”
Elspeth nodded at his words then turned to see Mrs. Ellington hovering. “I need to check with the captain, but I don’t see...” Another thought intruded. “Your family?”
“My husband’s dead. I can be ready very quickly, Miss Forster. We... I do not have many items to take home with me.”
“You said we?”
“My lately departed husband and I. It’s hard to remember he is now gone.”
“I understand losing someone close, Mrs. Ellington.” And she did, after the loss of both her parents. “I would need you to remain in Calcutta with my sister while she is ill. It could be some time before I can send you to England as we will need to wait for the return of one of our vessels. The Zephyr will be making its return journey as soon as we disembark and the outgoing cargo is loaded.”
“I understand that, Miss Forster. My family is… My son and daughter are in England at school, so there would be no concerns on that front. I want to go home, but cannot…”
Understanding bloomed. She had no money to pay for her passage home. Elspeth laid her hand on the woman’s arm. “One moment then, while I discuss this with the captain.” She might be the owner of the shipping line, but all such queries needed to be directed to him.
A quick glance showed him in deep discussion by the gangway. She hurried over to him, fanning herself slightly under the heat of the noonday sun.
“Captain?”
“Yes, Miss Forster?” He turned, looking harried and more than a little tense.
“Captain, the doctor has made a diagnosis of malaria. I have explained that we are unable to remain in Bombay. He has a nurse however. I should like for her to join us until we reach our destination in Calcutta, then to remain with my sister until such time as my sister is well again.”
He frowned, his two bushy eyebrows almost merging as he ran his fingers through his beard, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Well, Mr. Quartermaine? Where would we put the nurse?”
“I thought she would take the cabin next door? Is that no longer acceptable?” She noted the telltale blush on Quartermaine’s face; clearly he had news to impart that didn’t sit well with his view of how things should be.
“Well, you see Miss Forster, the other gentleman who came on at the same time as the doctor, he’s with the army. They need us to get him to Calcutta with all due speed.”
“In other words, Miss Forster, he has commandeered us to carry him to Calcutta. Quartermaine has already had to explain that he will need to use that cabin, because he demanded the captain’s, but you are using it.”
“Then where would...” She stopped fanning her face as the information sank in.
“She would have to share your cabin.”
Chapter 3
Aeddan watched the woman as she glided across the deck. The overhang shadows he waited in afforded him an excellent view without being seen. She couldn’t know that he watched her.
The woman was lush, curved in all the right places, and the molded bodice of cream silk enhanced her assets nicely. My, what bountiful assets she has too. Her tightly coiled hair accentuated the swanlike lines of her neck, and her skin glowed. She was perfectly comfortable with sea-going. What an exotic creature.
Quartermaine strode in his direction. “That’s Miss Forster. She and her sister, Miss Isabelle, are owners of the company. She’s a looker, ain’t she? She’s also a lady.”
He understood the implicit warning in the other man’s words. Hands off.
Such a shame. Miss Forster. Unmarried. He smiled. Maybe some small dalliance would be welcome. He’d seen the look she cast his way. The interest she’d advertised in her gaze when he’d come aboard.
She turned from the rail and headed back below. Her movements were graceful, and he let himself watch, mesmerized.
“Major?” Quartermaine interrupted his thoughts.
“Indeed? And Miss Isabelle?” Aeddan looked out of the masses milling on the wharf, the hurly-burly of trade, looking for his batman. Surely Grundy wasn’t taking this long to retrieve their bags from the place where they had lodged overnight?
“Miss Isabelle is sick, Major. She’s got malaria.”
He looked back at Quartermaine with a frown. “And they are not sending her to the infirmary?”
Quartermaine shook his head, a small frown between his eyes, the leathery skin creasing slightly. “No, sir. Instead, they are taking on a nurse. She’s to help with Miss Isabelle. Save Miss Forster some worry. Let her rest.”
He grunted, considering Quartermaine’s words. Malaria was certainly treatable, but for a lady, gently reared... “She is the owner, you say?”
“Aye, she is, Major. She and Miss Isabelle have run the company since the death of their father. Built it up over the years. This trip she will be looking at the suppliers. Seeing what new opportunities there are for Forster Shipping. The cap’n thinks she might also be considering newer, faster ships.” The man’s voice rasped, a common trait in career seamen.
In his three decades, he’d rarely seen a woman employed in business, and those that were, he’d always found rough. Hardened by the day-to-day act of trading and mercantile. In Miss Forster, he’d seen none of that. And yet, it seemed, she was involved and in charge of ensuring this small line was successful.
“Family?” He moved closer to the gangway, and Quartermaine followed him.
“Only one other sister, Miss Louisa, who has recently wed into the gentry.”
The more he heard about Miss Forster, the more intrigued he became. In his mind’s eye rose a vision; red hair piled high, shining green eyes beckoning, twinkling with laughter. He saw a softly rounded face of healthy womanhood, slightly tanned but firm skin, with dips and curves that caught his attention. He blinked as his body reacted to his thoughts.
So many questions he wanted to ask. He tamped them down. All in good time. He wasn’t Viceroy Hasting’s top spy for nothing. He’d learned the value of waiting and watching. Of engineering circumstances as needed.
He glanced over Quartermaine’s shoulder to see a man hurrying, valise tugged tight against his chest, and the crowd parting for him. He made the ship, scurried up the gangplank, then blinked and turned, unerringly in Aeddan’s direction.
“Ah, here’s Grundy now. Would you show us to my cabin? And I will need another for my man.”
Quartermaine shook his head, his face clearly displaying his discomfort. “I’m sorry, Major, there ain’t no more. Miss Forster and Miss Isabelle will be sharing with Mrs. Ellington. You and your man will have the smaller cabin. That’s all there is. Miss Forster is already using the ready room as her office and dining room and we use it for bunking down.”
Such arrangements didn’t really suit him at all, to be stuck in some pokey little cabin. Alfred Grundy snored. It would be a long week, or however long this trip would take. He’d have to suffer the noise and likely toss and turn. But he’d have to accept the situation.
Grundy approached. “I got it all, Major. Sold the horses as you instructed too.”
“Very good, Grundy. We’ll be sailing...” He turned to Quartermaine, raising an eyebrow.
“When all is settled for Miss Isabelle, Major. Shouldn’t be long though. The ladies understand the tides. Ocean’s in their blood, see? Right proper ladies they are.”
He smiled to himself. Indeed, Miss Forster is a right proper lady.
* * * *
“Isabelle, I am so pleased you feel a little improved.” Elspeth smiled as her sister dressed, for the first time in weeks, in a light
blue tea gown of brushed cotton. The dress hung loosely on Isabelle’s frame, leaving her looking pale yet interesting. Her blonde hair, so like their late mother’s, hung in a long plait down her back.
“Mrs. Ellington has done wonders for me. But I should like to see the ocean again.”
Elspeth had to strain to hear Isabelle’s voice, still quiet as she recovered. Elspeth moved behind her sister, quickly unfastening the ribbon in Isabelle’s hair, and ran her brush in long sweeps through the heavy tresses. “The air will do you wonders, I’m sure, and put some color in your cheeks.”
The small mirror in Isabelle’s hand wavered for a moment, and Elspeth caught sight of herself. Her own skin was no longer white, as was fashionable, but lightly tinted a golden honey tone.
“You said we have new passengers? Tell me about them,” Isabelle begged.
“Uh, there is Major Fitzsimmons. A nice-looking gentleman. He is traveling with his man, Grundy.”
She tried to avoid Isabelle’s question, deftly twisting her sister’s hair into an elegant if plainly coiled bun at her nape. Indeed, Major Fitzsimmons was far more than just a nice-looking gentleman. Since catching sight of him, her mind wanted to weave impossible fantasies.
He was muscular, she’d already seen that. With gray eyes and a chiseled jaw, he was every woman’s dream consort. He possessed a lock of black hair that teased her senses, and when carelessly arranged, it would dance in the sea breeze.
“Now that we have found our parasols we are ready to call Quartermaine to have you carried up top.”
“Oh, Elspeth, I’m sure I can manage.”
“Nonsense, Isabelle. Mrs. Ellington says you must not exert yourself.” Elspeth hurried to the door, opening it.
She almost swallowed her tongue, as on the other side of the door stood Major Fitzsimmons. His presence was commanding. He made her feel small. Not petite, no man alive could do that, she thought with uncommon whimsy—she was too tall to achieve that dubious honor—but feminine.
“May I help you, Miss Forster?” He bowed and that lock of black hair flicked forward, catching her attention. When he righted himself, his eyes gazed into hers. Her chest seized, as if her very breath were stolen.
