Ether & Elephants

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  A knock rattled the dressing room door. Thinking it had to be Eileen, she called, “Come in,” ready to grovel at the woman’s feet for her thoughtful efforts.

  Instead, Tom stepped into the room and his fair skin flushed at the sight of her in a state of undress.

  Nell simply lifted an eyebrow as she sipped her chocolate. They’d shared a house for years. He’d seen her in nightclothes before.

  “I wanted to say something,” he began, closing the connecting door and leaning against it. “If it’s the school, I don’t see a problem. Wink, Geneva, Melody—they all manage to have professions and families. I wouldn’t begrudge you the same. Stonechase would be an even better site for a school than Hadrian Hall. It’s much more centrally located than Northumberland.”

  “I won’t dispute the location,” she said carefully, gesturing at the room’s only other chair, a straight wooden one at the desk-cum-dressing table. She paused, considering, then tipped her head in concession to his statement. “And for what it’s worth, I guess I believe you, or I would if you didn’t sound so bloody condescending about it. Maybe if I wasn’t domestic little Nell, in everyone’s head, you’d get the idea that I’m an adult who knows my own mind. If you saw me for what I am, you’d be one of the few men I know who wouldn’t object to the idea out of hand. Roger certainly proved that.” She was just petty enough not to offer him a biscuit.

  Tom sat and silently waited for her to continue.

  “However, neither of those things is why I refused you.” She sighed and set down her cup. “How can I make you understand? It’s simply too late for us. I’d spend the rest of my life not quite trusting you, and I can’t live like that. I’m not a green girl anymore. I’m a grown woman, and one who’s learned the hard way to be content on her own. I’m not going to marry—not you, not Roger, not anyone. I’m sorry, but there it is.” She’d realized, after Roger broke things off, that she was relieved, not upset. Now that she’d found another path, she didn’t want to marry a man she couldn’t love and trust with all her heart. Given her track record, she was better off not trying to select one who could be faithful like her father or Liam. The freedom was more than a little dizzying.

  Tom made a soft, broken sound and she reached out to touch his hand.

  “I truly hope you find someone, though, now that you know you’re free.” He had the title and estate to consider, after all. He needed an heir. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, begrudge him a chance for real happiness.

  “That isn’t going to happen.” He looked up to the ceiling, as if praying for guidance. “Nell, I’ve been celibate for almost nine years, the entirety of my twenties, at least so far. How many other men can say that who haven’t taken holy orders? Does that speak of inconstancy?”

  She blinked. “I wasn’t aware of that, and I commend you for honoring what you believed were your marriage vows, but it doesn’t make any difference.”

  “It doesn’t?” She heard the pain in his voice and steeled herself against it.

  “No. The point is you broke your promise to me. Perhaps it’s just that we were never meant to be together. If I’d been the right girl for you, none of this would have ever happened.” Just saying it hurt, but it made her feel stronger too, that she could look at the situation, articulate it, and make an adult decision.

  “Nelly-belly—” He stood and came over to perch on the arm of her chair. “You are the right girl, and you know it. Are you going to punish us our whole lives for a few wild oats I sowed when I was little more than a boy? To be honest, I’d slept with Polly before the Christmas holidays, I just didn’t marry her until after.”

  “I know that. I’ve done the arithmetic. Honestly, it doesn’t make me feel better to know that. Even before Twelfth Night, you knew I loved you, knew I was waiting, but that isn’t what this is about. I’m not punishing anyone, not you, not myself.” She looked up into his anguished face. “I’m just moving on with my life, as you should. Now let this go, so we can be friends again.”

  “Friends?” His voice cracked and he leaned down, his gaze boring into hers. “We were never friends, Nelly. Family, yes, but so are any married couple. Friends don’t do this.”

  And then he kissed her.

  Nell’s world stopped spinning. There were no words to describe Tom’s kiss. The closest she could come was the emotional rise and swell of a Mozart symphony. Tom’s lips were soft but firm. When he flicked his tongue against her lower lip, she instinctively opened her mouth and let him move inside. His hands slid inside her dressing gown to curl around her bare shoulders, and she moaned into his mouth at the contact, her tongue cautiously darting out to tangle with his. Her own hands seemed to have made their way around his waist, although she didn’t remember moving.

  He leaned down, pushing her back into the plush armchair, and she let him, pulling him down to nearly sit on her lap. His skin was hot, radiating through his shirt and waistcoat, while hers felt electrified, especially wherever they touched. When he slid his hand down to cup her breast through her chemise, however, it was he who groaned and pulled away.

  To Nell’s shame, she didn’t think she could have asked him to stop. Her breast ached with the loss of such a fleeting touch.

  Tom pushed to his feet and shuffled to the door. His breathing was as ragged as her own. “Think about it, dearling,” he said thickly, one hand on the doorknob. “Think about how very right that was. I’ll never betray you again. You have my word of honor on that. I love you, Nell. Please think about that and reconsider.”

  She gave a shaky laugh and pushed some loose hair out of her face. “I doubt I’ll be able to forget it.” She dragged in a few more breaths and looked up to face him. “But the answer is still no, Tom. Lust isn’t what I’m looking for in my life, not for the long term at least.”

  “I’m not talking about lust, I’m talking about love. We both know the difference.”

  She blinked back the tears pricking her eyelids. “No, I’m not sure I do. This was amazing, but I don’t think physical pleasure is enough to build a lifetime on. I’m not that soppy sixteen-year-old anymore. I need meaning and purpose, not just a strong man to look out for me. We can do this again if you like. I certainly would. But at the end of this journey, you have to be all right with going our separate ways. No more talking of love or marriage. We need to put that in the past.”

  He bobbed his head and went through the door, shutting off that part of her life with a single reverberating click.

  Chapter Ten

  Nell’s first impression of Calcutta was the heat. Wet and oppressive, it hung thick in the air like a boiled London fog. There was smoke, of course, so she wore her air mask, but even it didn’t completely block the scents of human and animal waste, curry and unwashed flesh. Her lightest linen skirt and bodice seemed like a woolen shroud and her fashionable hat with its ivory veil was utterly ineffective at shading her eyes from the blinding sun.

  The aerodrome was outside the city proper. As the official Government House carriage rolled through the fetid streets, she saw wonders, including a snake charmer and elephants in the distance, but also conditions even worse than she’d known in Wapping, which she’d frankly not thought possible. The darker skin, actually many different skin tones, of the people didn’t surprise her, but the fact that many of them, men and women, walked boldly around basically nude was something of a shock. Very few of the workingmen wore shirts, and some were in little more than an infant’s nappie. She supposed the heat was some excuse. Maybe they were simply smarter than the English. She glanced away as a couple rutted against a rickety wooden building, the man’s bare back covered in sores that boded ill for both him and his companion.

  A little further on she saw the body of a child, a boy of possibly eight, lying facedown in a ditch.

  This was the jewel of the British crown? Nell choked back a sob.

  From across the carriage, Tom shot her a look of sympathetic agreement.

  Mr. Merton, some sort of underse
cretary to the viceroy, brought his handkerchief to his nostrils. “An untouchable. Nobody cares what becomes of him, and it’s a sin for anyone from any other caste to even touch the body.”

  This time Nell snorted. “I imagine his mother does.” If he had one.

  Eileen perched beside Nell, wringing her hands and refusing to even glance outside. Meanwhile, the viceroy’s toady rambled on about all the wondrous things the British had done to improve the lives of the natives.

  Nell managed not to snort again.

  Farther into the city, many things changed. Not the heat, of course, but suddenly the buildings were more solid and, well, more English, for the most part, with wider streets and carriages, even steam cars moving along the well-paved road. Ditches and slums evolved into small parks and tidy shops. More of the people wore clothing, some of them flowing robes and others Savile Row suits or bespoke gowns. The air still smelled of curried shit.

  Once they passed through the arched gates to Government House, the official residence of the viceroy and vicereine, lush gardens and a vast swath of parkland boasted colorful blooms and majestic palms as they rolled up the brick-paved drive. The carriage pulled to a halt in front of a palace that rivaled any royal residence in Britain. The enormous, classically designed building was painted yellow, but it didn’t strike Nell as garish. It simply suited the exotic beauty of the setting.

  Mr. Merton led them up wide marble steps and into the vast central hall of the building. High ceilings and well-placed windows provided both shade and ventilation, making it cooler indoors than out. In here, the scents of huge floral arrangements overrode any other, presumably even the sweat of the multitude of clerks and other workers, all in Western dress, who scurried about, oblivious to the newcomers.

  “His Excellency will meet you in his private office, Sir Thomas.” Merton led them through a series of rooms to a wide corridor leading to one of the four wings of the building. “A servant will show Miss Hadrian to her rooms.”

  “Miss Hadrian is part of my business from Her Majesty,” Tom said. His instinctive inclusion of her made Nell want to smile. What a change in just a few days. “However, you may have someone show Miss Morrissey to her quarters, and after she’s had a rest, to Miss Hadrian’s.” He took a firm grip on Nell’s arm, and since she didn’t wish to be excluded from the meeting, she kept her spine straight and her chin high.

  Merton managed to suggest a sniff without actually doing so. “Very well. Right this way.”

  Lord Elgin, the viceroy, was a fierce-looking man whose white shock of hair and lined face made him look far older than his fifty-some years. His office was as lavish as the rest of the palace, but covered in papers and books. His Excellency was no puppet. He worked at his position. Papa would approve, as would the duke. Of course, they’d both probably met him. There’d been no chance to discuss the situation since Tom and Nell had left so quickly.

  Nell curtseyed. The viceroy was owed all the respect due to a monarch, after all. Tom bowed. After introductions, Tom handed Lord Elgin a letter from Her Majesty. He read it and sent both Merton and another official out of the room and asked Tom and Nell to be seated.

  “I knew there was an Order of the Round Table but assumed it was purely honorific,” Lord Elgin said. “And, of course, I knew Her Majesty had someone to deal with supernatural threats, but I never put the two together. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you, Sir Thomas, Miss Hadrian. I understand you’re here upon a matter of utmost delicacy relating to the Prince of Wales?”

  “Among other issues,” Tom said. “We’re also seeking a dangerous criminal, someone who mixes magick and chemistry to wreak havoc. We’ve reason to believe he may be after some sort of magickally charged gemstones.”

  “I see.” Lord Elgin steepled his fingers. “I am at your disposal of course. Do you have a name for this villain? A description?”

  Tom grimaced. “Several names, unfortunately.” He showed the viceroy the wedding photograph and the more recent drawings they had, and generally filled him in on what they knew or understood of the Alchemist’s plan. “We believe the man’s wife seduced the prince and is trying to blackmail the palace as a source of funding for his projects.” He kept his own involvement with Polly entirely out of the discussion and Nell didn’t feel it was her place to divulge Tom’s secrets, especially as there seemed to be no need.

  “And your purpose here, Miss Hadrian?” Lord Elgin studied her with a calm but authoritative air.

  She tipped her chin, appreciating his straightforward attitude. “The criminals took a boy from the school where I teach, well, taught. I’m here for him. He’s blind, and I was afraid he might not trust a stranger.”

  He weighed her words for a moment. “Commendable.”

  “There is one other thing.” Tom’s tone conferred respect without deference, a narrow tightrope to walk. “There is a man we wish to meet, on an unrelated matter. I believe you are acquainted with Nawab Shanku?”

  “He’s one of our most helpful allies in the West Bengal region,” the viceroy said. “The first viceroy, Lord Canning, knighted him shortly after the ’57 rebellion. I can arrange a formal meeting, or, if you prefer, an introduction at this evening’s entertainments. The vicereine is having a small supper party tonight. Both Sir Vivek, the nawab, and his son will be there.”

  “Tonight will do nicely.” Nell’s throat had gone dry but she didn’t choke on her words, thank goodness. “I have reason to believe the nawab may be a distant relation, and my father suggested I look him up.” It was close enough to the truth. He’d certainly been distant enough in her lifetime, even if he had sired her.

  “Not too distant, I think.” Lord Elgin narrowed his eyes at Nell. “You look just like him.”

  Nell flushed. “He may be my biological father, sir. If so, I should like to know him.”

  “Excellent.” Lord Elgin came around his desk and showed them to the door, beckoning to a waiting servant. “Rajesh will show you to the residential wing. Lady Elgin looks forward to meeting you in the salon at nine o’clock. We dine late here to take advantage of the cooler evenings.”

  Silently, Nell and Tom followed the liveried native man through the palace to another wing, one which seemed to be designed as a stately home. Another servant, this one female, also Indian, but in a sedate dress of blue linen, led them up a sweeping staircase to their rooms, across the hall from one another. Would he cross that hall tonight? She’d waited for him the night before and he hadn’t.

  “We have hours yet before supper,” Nell said. If she had to sit in her room and stew about Tom and meeting her possible father, she’d go mad.

  “I know.” Tom paced restlessly in the corridor. We need to do something. Why don’t I speak to the majordomo while you freshen up. I think a tour of the city is in order. We need to know the lay of the land.”

  She almost hugged him for understanding. “Mr. Pritchard, the archaeologist, offered to give me a tour of some of the significant sights.”

  Tom frowned. “Pritchard, is it? Fine, we’ll send him a note. If not today, perhaps we can persuade him to do so tomorrow.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Tom handed Nell into the carriage. She wore the same tropical linen traveling suit she’d worn on the ship, as did he, but, like him, had changed into a fresh white blouse and a broader-brimmed hat. If their clothing hadn’t been what all the other Europeans in Caluctta were wearing, they’d have looked absurdly as if they were trying to match. Even his coral silk cravat matched the coral silk rose pinned at the neckline of her blouse. As usual, she was stunning, and just the sight of her took his breath away.

  She caught his eye as he handed her up into the open phaeton. “We look like a pair of traveling comedians.”

  He chuckled. “We do.”

  “On the contrary, Miss Hadrian, you look utterly lovely.” The brown-haired man who waited on the third seat of the phaeton stood to assist her, smiling beneath his handlebar moustache.

  “Mr.
Van Guilder. How delightful to see you again.” She studied the man as if trying to remember more, which was reassuring, since Tom had been grinding his teeth in jealousy while she danced with the rather ordinary young man. “Your mother was kind. Please thank her for me again.”

  “I see you’ve met our tour guide, Mr. Alistair Van Guilder. He and his family reside in Calcutta, and he happened to be at Government House on business this afternoon and offered his services as guide. I believe you’re a banker, sir?” Tom climbed up to the high perch of the carriage.

  “Yes, my father and I manage the Bank of Calcutta, serving primarily the British and American populations of the city.” He shook hands with Tom and all three sat, with Nell in the center. Mr. Van Guilder picked up the reins. “I was fortunate enough to meet Miss Hadrian last night aboard the airship. Mother and I just returned from a visit to London.”

  He chatted amiably as he drove them around the European center of the city. It was, in this area, a lovely, well-laid out cosmopolitan city, with lovely stucco three-story shops and banks and restaurants, presumably with offices and flats above. “Many of the iron frames of the buildings were fabricated in England,” Alistair said. “They were sent here by freighter, and the facades and interiors were built on location. Fascinating, isn’t it?”