by Lara Temple
The tea was hot and sweet and it reminded him of the tea they made on campfires during the war—coarse but precious in its rarity, a link to another life, to safety.
‘I think you’re frightened,’ he said.
The delicate cup wavered in her hand and she gave a little squeak as tea sloshed over the rim on to her dress. The brownish patch spread on the dull muslin, clinging to her thigh. He pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her, waiting for her to do what anyone would do—take the handkerchief, blot at the moisture, be annoyed or embarrassed. She didn’t even put down her cup, just stared at the stain.
‘Ellie?’
Nothing.
He placed the handkerchief on the stain, took her free hand and pressed it down on it. It was bad enough touching her hand—blotting her damp thigh was beyond him at the moment. She finally surfaced, clasping the linen and patting at the tea.
‘I don’t have any whisky or...or port to offer you. We don’t keep any.’
‘I don’t need any, not yet anyway. We are not celebrating quite yet. But I do need you to drink your tea and listen to what I am proposing. It is nothing awful, I assure you. This isn’t one of those pacts with the evil sorcerer like in your favourite novels. No handing over your first born or being forced to eat your sprouts...’
Her lips curved upwards.
‘That would be awful. I hate sprouts.’
‘You can give me yours then, I’m actually partial to them.’
Her nose wrinkled and he resisted the urge to run his finger down it.
‘Sprouts aside, are you ready to listen?’
She finally met his eyes.
‘Yes. What did you mean, about your sister?’
‘I told you we were to go to Egypt?’
Her hand closed about his handkerchief and she nodded once.
‘Yes. I was certain you would be on your way already.’
‘That was the plan.’ He winced at the murky territory of half-lies he was entering. He was truly losing his skills; he never used to mind blurring the truth. ‘Sam, however, is baulking at the fence. I told you she is very wary of leaving Sinclair Hall, but that the one thing that still occupies her are her illustrations. I have very callously pointed out that if she doesn’t soon go and refresh her memory of the places which inspire her illustrations, she might put her commission at risk.’
‘Chase...’
‘Yes, I know. I am a horrible brother. However, it had its effect. She is inclined to agree, but she doesn’t want to play gooseberry to my newlywed brother and his wife and I can see her point. Olivia, Lady Sinclair, is lovely, but she and Lucas are rather disgustingly in love and even Inky, their cat, finds them rather too much at the moment. Their first night at Sinclair Hall, that monstrous feline deposited a dead mouse in their bed to show her displeasure at their new living arrangements.’
Ellie’s smile widened, her lips parting and the firelight infusing some gold into her eyes.
‘Perhaps this Inky saw it as a housewarming gift?’
‘Perhaps. It was still warm, according to Lucas.’ Chase grinned at her laugh. ‘Whatever Inky’s internal monologue, the fact remains that Sam is worried.’
‘But you will be with her.’
‘Yes, but I’m merely a brother and she is convinced I might be distracted by other concerns...family business concerns,’ he emphasised as the narrowing of her eyes indicated precisely what she thought might distract him. ‘I happen to represent my uncle’s interests in various areas of the world and it is true that I might have to absent myself on occasion. So I suggested we find her a companion. Someone who could go about with her to visit all those places she wishes to inspect for her illustrations and who might have the patience to explore with her and perhaps sit and read while she sketches. Olivia and Lucas might be willing to do these things with her, but she will never ask it of them. A paid companion, however, would be another matter entirely.
‘Chase—’
‘It is a perfect solution for both of you,’ he interrupted before she could voice objections. ‘That way I needn’t saddle her with a complete stranger who will probably faint at the first challenge Egypt is likely to throw at her. You said you wanted to go there and I know full well you meant it.’
‘Yes, but... This isn’t a game, Chase. All those... Madame Ambrosia the occultist and the pugs, and the governess to the future King of the Purple Mountains or whatever, those were jests...just foolish nonsense. You cannot be serious. Besides, this is no solution to the problem you... A companion’s wages would not even make a dent in what we owe you.’
He surged to his feet, putting some distance between her and his need to shake some sense into her.
‘This is my sister I am talking about! Do you think it makes any difference to me if it is ten pounds or ten thousand? There are only two people on this earth whose welfare is my concern and one doesn’t need me and I am failing the other. I would give my last farthing if I thought it could...’
He shoved his hands through his hair and went to the window. It overlooked what might also once have been a pleasant lawn, but was now a large kitchen garden planted around a twisted apple tree already covered in buds. Bathed in soft sunlight it looked inviting, hiding the effort he knew must go into maintaining this sagging home and estate. Why the devil did she have to be so stubborn?
He’d just lied, but it wasn’t the lie that was choking him, it was the reality behind that lie—there were no longer two people, but now three in his circle of care.
He heard her come to stand on the other side of the window, but didn’t turn.
‘We started that garden with Mr Whelford,’ she said. ‘He knew he was ill and he knew he could not help us settle our debts, but he could help me prepare to live with them.’
He looked away from the garden. He did not want to hear about Arthur Whelford’s many virtues at the moment.
‘I’m well aware my pecuniary gesture doesn’t sit on the same heavenly level as Whelford’s moral support.’
She sighed and returned to sink on to her chair, rubbing at the tea stain. ‘That is not what I meant. I merely wanted to explain... How could I leave them?’
He leaned one hand on the windowsill and took another cautious step on to thin ice.
‘They were alone while you were at Huxley.’
‘Well, yes, but that was only to be for a few weeks and it was a mere carriage ride away. This would be... I don’t even know how long.’
‘Two, maybe three months, depending on the voyage.’
Maybe a voyage was not a smart word to use quite yet. Her fingers worked the handkerchief even more briskly at the stain. The poor muslin would likely disintegrate any moment. Not that he would mind...
He forced his gaze back to her face. Her teeth were pulling at her lower lip, leaving it reddened and damp, and he cursed silently and resumed his station behind the chair.
‘At the risk of offending you as I once did, I would hazard a guess they managed quite well without you. Judging by my welcoming committee outside, at least two of the Walsh clan are more than capable, especially now you no longer have any pressing financial concerns.’
As if on cue, the door opened once more and this time it was Susan who entered with a tray.
‘Aunt Flo thought you might like to try the first of the season’s strawberries. They are a little tart, but lovely. And Hugh and I brushed down Brutus and put a blanket on him in the stable, Mr Sinclair, so you needn’t worry. Will you stay for supper? Cook says she can wring Gaspard’s neck if we are entertaining.’ She grinned at Chase’s expression. ‘Gaspard is our goose. But I think Cook’s pie is just as good as a roast goose and will be ready far sooner. She’s from the West Country, you see.’
‘I would prefer no one’s neck is wrung on my behalf. I am staying at the Green Man in Nettleton and they can feed me.’
‘Not as well as Cook’s pie.’
‘Were you in charge when your sister was at Huxley, Miss Walsh?’ Chase asked Susan before Ellie could send her away. Susan cast Ellie a look and Ellie shrugged.
‘Well, not in charge. No one was in charge, not like Ellie is. Edmund and I looked after the books and went round the tenants, and Anne helped Aunt Flo and Cook in the kitchen and the gardens and saw to Hugh’s lessons.’
‘Thank you for the strawberries, Sue,’ Ellie said. ‘And tell Cook the pie will be quite sufficient.’
Susan left with obvious reluctance and Chase smiled at Ellie’s glower and took one of the strawberries. They were still a little hard, but surprisingly sweet. Rather like Ellie.
‘Delicious. Try them.’
‘I picked them. Mr Sinclair...’
‘Chase. You know I’m right. Your siblings will not only survive, but probably thrive. Not despite you, but because of you. I will have my priceless man of business Mr Barker keep an eye on them and report to us and ensure nothing terrible happens to them. Come. Aside from everything else, don’t you wish to see Huxley’s quest through to the end?’
She clutched her hands before her.
‘What if your sister dislikes me?’
‘She won’t.’
‘You don’t know that. I’m not...exciting or fashionable or anything a companion should be. I will bore her within five minutes.’
‘You certainly don’t bore me and I’m a far flightier fellow than Sam. Besides, you forget she has spent almost three years now immured at Sinclair Hall and right now her only companion is a very complacent and opinionated cat. You don’t have much competition.’
‘But...’
‘Ellie. All I am asking is that you give her a mere three months of what I profoundly hope will be your very long life. You will travel to Egypt with a woman who needs help and a man who has run out of ideas how to help her. You will see the pyramids and temples and curse the flies and sand and travel on a dahabiya up the Nile. Not only you will never forget this trip and provide your siblings with marvellous letters to look forward to and tales to enjoy upon your return, but you will have thoroughly earned every last penny of your companion’s wages. Can you honestly turn your back on my proposal and live with the regret?’
Her hands were bunched into fists on her thighs and her eyes were shooting jade and gold darts at him and he knew he had won this battle.
She stood, tossing his crumpled handkerchief on to the table like a gauntlet.
‘You are thoroughly, unashamedly devious, Chase Sinclair. And you call me managing!’
Chapter Sixteen
‘Our course is set for an uncharted sea...’ murmured a voice behind Ellie as she looked out over the endless teal blue.
Her hands tightened on the ship’s railing as her nerves sang and danced with the wind and the waves. She’d hoped the internal cacophony Chase’s presence sparked in her might calm a little after two weeks spent in relatively close proximity on HMS Seahawk, but she’d been sadly wrong.
Not that she saw much of him, not with Lady Samantha falling ill the very night they sailed from Portsmouth. At first Ellie was convinced it was the sea sickness she herself had been so worried she would succumb to, but the ship’s surgeon quickly declared it a bad case of influenza exacerbated by exhaustion.
Without even discussing the arrangement, Chase took night duty while Ellie spent her days in Sam’s cabin, often reading to her from Sam’s collection of Desert Boy books while Inky curled up on the bed, alternately napping and staring at Ellie as she read with a disconcerting one-eyed squint, like a suspicious chaperon trying not to nod off.
Ellie’s fears that Sam would resent being dependent upon a stranger soon faded. She was surprisingly easy to talk to, perhaps because Ellie felt she knew the young woman from Huxley’s notebooks, or perhaps it was that strange Sinclair charm that enticed trust even when there was no evidence to back it.
As for Chase, she only met him between their shifts, or sometimes on deck when they came up for air. And every time she saw the worry on his face she wanted to put her arms around him and tell him it would be all right. She knew she’d only just met his sister and was seeing her at her worst, but she saw what Huxley depicted so clearly in his notebooks—Sam was strong and stubborn—she would cling to the cliff face even with rocks tumbling down about her.
But Chase never gave her an opening. He’d changed again since they embarked at Portsmouth—he might still tease and charm and continue his embellishments on A Thousand and One Absurd Ways to Travel to Egypt when their paths crossed, but she might just as well have been Fenella. The message was eminently clear—whatever had happened at Huxley, remained at Huxley.
It was sweet torture being with him and being kept firmly in her place, but she didn’t regret one second of her time with him. Ellie’s revelation from Huxley’s study held—she might be confused, frustrated, worried, but she wasn’t lonely. His mere presence filled spaces in her she hadn’t even known existed. Sometimes she felt she knew him better than the new person she was becoming in his company.
‘So, what have you done with the pugs this morning, Madame Ambrosia?’ Chase said as she remained silent. ‘Did you feed them to the sharks?’
‘No, the captain put them in a longboat and cast them out to sea. He said if their carousing with Inky kept him awake one more night, we’d likely run aground. The last I saw of them they were asking directions of a mermaid.’
He smiled at her latest embellishment, resting a hand on the railing next to her.
‘You are becoming quite adept at this. There is hope for you yet, Miss Ellie Walsh. How is Sam this morning? Did she sleep?’
The wind blew his dark hair against his forehead and her hands twitched with the need to brush it aside. She hoped she didn’t look as exhausted as he, weariness deepening the shadows under his eyes and deepening the creases by his mouth. But then last night was the first night he’d spent in his own cabin and not in the hammock strung in Sam’s.
‘Better than you by the looks of it. In fact, she was still asleep when I left. And she ate a good dinner which is an excellent sign.’
‘Yes. I was beginning to worry I had made a grave error, forcing her to come. I’ve never seen her so ill. There were nights I considered forcing the captain to put us ashore...anywhere.’
‘I know. She said you offered to, but she told you not to.’
He rubbed at the dark wood of the railing and Ellie resisted the urge to cover his hand with hers.
‘I never meant for your companion’s role to turn into that of a nursemaid. I haven’t thanked you for being so patient with her. With me. I know I haven’t been very entertaining...’
‘You cannot be serious, Chase. I came to act as companion...’
‘But not as nursemaid.’
‘That is part of what being a companion is, is it not? Compared to my siblings, tending to her has been a holiday. I’ve done little more than read to her and talk. She is an excellent listener. Is that a family trait?’
‘But Sam has no ulterior motive when she listens. Unlike me she is genuinely interested in people.’
She sighed. ‘Of course, how could I have forgotten you have an ulterior motive for everything you do.’
He did not answer and she wished she hadn’t succumbed to being snide again.
‘That was foolish of me, Chase. I have been meaning to show you something, but I felt it was not right while Lady Samantha was so ill.’
‘Show me something?’
‘Yes. May I?’
For a moment he just stood looking down at her. It was like being on the Tor again, pinned by his gaze as the world receded. The emptiness around them only made it worse—the sense that only he mattered, that her compass would seek him for ever.
Then the ship angled into the wind, the deck shi
fting beneath her feet, and he held out his arm.
‘Show me.’
* * *
‘Look.’
Chase looked at Ellie. She was unwrapping an object from a strip of flannel, but all he saw was her smile and once again his heartbeat shot forward like one of Napoleon’s cannonades. When would his body remember he was thirty and not thirteen?
This was his first time in her cabin. It was smaller and substantially tidier than Sam’s and he tried very hard not to look at the narrow, neatly made bed and think about what it might look like when it was not so neat, or empty.
Her scent caught him immediately, soft and soothing, and addictive. Every evening he’d come to replace her in Sam’s cabin they’d discussed Sam’s progress in the corridor and he would fill himself with that scent like the Bedouin filling their water gourds at the desert well.
The thought that one day he would have to do without it, without her, was becoming increasingly an impossibility, less reasonable than mermaids and sprites and turning back time.
‘Chase?’
He caught himself, forcing his gaze to the alabaster vase in her hands.
‘You brought the vase with you?’
‘When I took it out at home, the stopper fell off and I found these inside. They might be nothing, but I did not wish to read them without your approval.’
She turned over the vase and several rolled-up strips fell on to the wooden table.
‘Read them, Ellie.’
‘Are you certain?’
‘Of course. This is as much your quest now as mine. Read them.’
‘Very well. Here... This one looks like the note in the book of hours. “Saqqara most definitely. Timing of stay in White Desert should settle the question definitively. Have Chase ask Poppy.”’
She looked up but he motioned her to unroll the next.
‘This is a reference to a book, see? It reads: “Yes—this. Page ninety-seven, paragraph three. It strikes clean to my heart. I wonder if it could have been that all along.”’
As she unrolled the third small scroll he noted it wasn’t paper, but papyrus. The ink, too, was older, a little faded, and the handwriting was not Huxley’s, but a more precise and legible hand.
