by Georgie Lee
‘I’m the most prominent member they possess. They aren’t likely to deny me anything.’ Conrad stared at the dirty floor of the hack, a darkness to match the one she’d seen in his study dampening his smile. ‘It’s one of the only advantages of fame.’
She wanted to reach out and offer him the reassuring touch he’d once have extended to her, but she kept her free hand firmly in her lap. She’d read his pamphlet. Her aunt had purchased it along with a host of other explorers’ writings. Aunt Florence was enraptured by travel though she’d never ventured further than London. It’d sickened Katie to see Conrad’s trials in such bald-faced terms. It had also deepened her distress at how she’d chosen to leave him in the country. With his acclaim increasing, she’d convinced herself leaving hadn’t hurt him. After the vitriol he’d struck her with in his house, she knew she’d been wrong. She’d wounded him badly, though obviously not enough to make him completely forsake her.
She brushed a wayward curl from her hot cheek, her guilt at what she’d done increasing. He was helping her, as he’d always did, and she wasn’t worthy of his kindness. She looked out of the window at the passing façades in St James’s Street. She’d see to it this was the last time she needed to rely on him.
* * *
Katie’s grip on Conrad’s arm tightened as he escorted her through the wide double doors of the grand house on St James’s Street. The last time she’d trod these dark, rosewood-panelled hallways had been the night she and her father had hurried out, indignation burning in her chest over the way they’d been treated. Her father had walked beside her back to Aunt Florence’s a broken man, as withdrawn from her as he’d been the morning he’d handed her the parting note from her mother.
Conrad was oblivious to the stares and whispers following them as they strode past the open sitting rooms. Men looked up from their newspapers or turned from their discussions to watch them. Katie inched closer to Conrad, wishing she was as heedless of the other members as him. Their scrutiny continued to roll off of him as he led her to the large library at the back of the building. The house had once been owned by the Duke of Carling, before he’d donated it to the Naturalist Society, and the old ballroom with its high ceiling and wide floor was now the library. Tall bookshelves covered the walls and round tables filled the empty space in the centre, each one dotted with men doing research. The small stage at the end where the musicians once sat still remained. Once a month, the tables were removed and various gentlemen took to the platform to present their ideas. It was there Katie and her father had been humiliated, with members rising to accuse them of plagiarism, men protected by minor titles and secretly egged on by Lord Helton.
It wasn’t the stage which made her halt on the threshold, but the cold eyes of Mr Rukin from across the room. She met his contempt with her own, determined not to allow the disgusting man to cow her.
‘What’s wrong?’ Conrad asked, looking back and forth between her and the barrage of harsh stares thrown at her by the men scattered at the tables.
‘I don’t have very fond memories of the last time I was here.’ Or of the evening afterwards when she’d gone alone to Mr Rukin’s to ask for his help. She’d thought him her and her father’s ally in their efforts to gain recognition. She’d been terribly wrong.
‘Don’t let it stop you,’ Conrad urged as he laid his hand over hers and drew her into the room.
She ignored Mr Rukin’s sneer as Conrad led her past him to a table in the far corner.
She set her reticule down, then turned to take in the high bookshelf against the wall. It was stocked with books on birds from all over the world with large folios of Mr Audubon’s drawings besides those of more obscure ornithologists. Katie’s heart skipped as much from the sight of them as from Conrad’s presence beside her. It was the first time in the past week when the exhaustion of packing up her things, travelling to London and counting again her meagre savings in order to calculate how long they might last didn’t weigh her down.
She examined the spines, then quickly began to draw out books and stack them on the table, keenly aware of Mr Rukin and the others watching.
‘There’s no need to rush,’ Conrad offered, as she stacked two more books on the table, then turned to select more.
‘There is, as you’re about to discover.’ The footsteps of a gentleman approaching echoed behind them. It was someone coming to demand she leave. It had happened before when she’d accompanied her father to other libraries, a harsh reminder of how Katie’s ruined reputation had marred them both.
‘May I have a word with you, Captain Essington?’ Mr Rukin’s voice slithered over her, dragging up the desperation she’d experienced in his home.
‘Yes, Mr Rukin?’ Conrad demanded, turning with her to face the man.
Mr Rukin stared past Conrad to Katie, as arrogant as he was duplicitous. It made her skin crawl to remember his cold fingers digging into her upper arms and his slimy mouth pressed against hers. ‘I object to a woman such as Miss Vickers being allowed in here.’
‘What problems do you have?’ Conrad demanded in the manner of a man used to commanding people, not obeying them. ‘I have the same right as any other member to sponsor a guest who wishes to use the library.’
Katie shifted closer to Conrad and pinned Mr Rukin with a hard, condemning glare, daring him to admit his reason and his guilt.
‘I— Well—’ he stuttered, as much a coward today as he’d been during her last night in London.
‘Our society has always welcomed anyone interested in the natural sciences, including those of the fairer sex, we’ve prided ourselves on it. If any member takes issue with our policy, then they may arrange to speak privately with me about it.’ Conrad raised his voice, looking around the room in challenge to the other men watching. They ducked behind their books, unwilling to contradict Conrad, or support Mr Rukin. It was a faint comfort to Katie to see him so isolated.
With lips pursed in disapproval, Mr Rukin stalked away, leaving the room and his research behind.
‘I see now some of what you must have had to contend with while I was gone.’ Conrad flicked a glance at Katie’s hands and her hard grip on the opal ring.
She opened her fingers, pulled out a chair and sat down, disgusted by Conrad’s sympathy. If he’d cared enough about her to stay in England instead of sailing off, none of the problems facing her would even exist. ‘That’s the least of what I was forced to endure.’
Conrad sat down in the chair beside hers and leaned in close, his breath caressing her exposed wrist above her sleeve, the tall stack of books hiding them both from view. ‘Did something happen between you and Mr Rukin?’
His question carried as much suspicion as it did care and she searched his face, wondering how many of the rumours he believed. By now he should have heard them all, how her meagre success wasn’t because of hard work, but midnight visits to many gentlemen’s houses. At this moment, Mr Rukin was probably in the salon repeating them to anyone who’d listen and inventing some involving Conrad as well. Conrad’s reputation could withstand the assault, hers couldn’t. She shouldn’t have come to him for help. Even with his support, it wouldn’t make any difference.
‘Nothing I wish to discuss, or disprove,’ Katie answered at last, unwilling to delve into the details of the humiliation she’d experienced both here and at Mr Rukin’s.
She slowly opened a large book on birds of Australia and pulled it close. Tracing the beautifully rendered watercolour of an egret in flight, she wondered if, had she been allowed to find it, there might have been a different path for her. If there was, it was lost to the past and only this way forward remained.
She selected a pencil and a piece of paper from those laid out on the table for the convenience of the members, eager to shake off her despair. Conrad continued to study her, his scrutiny as troubling as the other gentlemen’s disapproving looks. She
didn’t want him to pry, but to let her work. Too much depended on her success for her to think it was futile, or to fail.
* * *
Conrad leaned away from Katie, disturbed by her refusal to confide in him as much as Mr Rukin’s presence. Whatever had passed between her and the thick-waisted member with the long legs, she didn’t trust Conrad enough to tell him, or she was too ashamed.
He shoved himself up out of the chair and made for another bookshelf a few feet away, noticing the bob of men’s heads as they looked up from their tomes, then ducked back down to resume their research. What did they know that Conrad didn’t? He couldn’t rely on Katie to tell him, although he couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t about to reveal to her the truth of his failures in the Arctic. Such confidences required trust, which she’d destroyed when she’d run from Heims Hall.
Conrad pulled a work on caribou off the shelf and flipped it open. If he couldn’t give Mr Barrow the book he wanted on his experiences, he’d appease him with some scientific drivel. It would give him something to do while Katie worked.
He read the first paragraph, but couldn’t take in the words.
What was he doing supporting Katie when she hadn’t possessed the decency to wake him before she’d fled his house? With a city full of women enamoured with him and his exploits, he might find any manner of consolation and companionship. Unlike all those women, Katie had never wanted him for the glory he could bestow upon her, or his connection to the Marquis of Helton. She’d loved him for himself and the exchange of ideas they’d enjoyed during long afternoons at Heims Hall. Sadly, the quiet days with her hadn’t been enough for him.
He looked down at his right hand and the faint red marks which had all but faded from his palms. As much as he was loath to admit it, his desire to chase the Northwest Passage had been as responsible for his uncle’s success in ending their engagement as her stealthy departure. If the grandeur he’d received from his adventures had been as beautiful as Katie’s body beneath his, or brought him as much peace, then the sacrifice of her love might have been worth it. It wasn’t. He wondered if risking his reputation to protect hers was worth it either.
Conrad snapped the book shut and shoved it back in between its mates, grimacing as the leather spine cracked. From out of the corner of his eyes he caught Katie watching him. He turned to her, the curve of her arm against the table and her slender fingers gripping the long wood of the pen moving him as much as the concern filling her blue eyes. Regret replaced his anger and he turned back to the shelves. They’d both made mistakes and it was time for him to atone for some of his, though it would be difficult to overcome people’s prejudice against Katie, especially when he held his own.
* * *
It was a relief at the end of the afternoon when Conrad closed his last book. He’d made no more progress with an article about Arctic animals than he had composing the details of his expedition. The recollection of his time in the north had distracted him along with Katie’s steady breathing beside him and the whisper of her faded muslin gown against her legs whenever she shifted in the chair. He didn’t want her to keep affecting him, even in such subtle ways, but she did.
‘Do you have what you need?’ he asked as a footman shuffled behind them to light the lamp hanging from the wall, ready to end this strange day.
Katie arched against the stiffness in her back. It drew tight the faded bodice over her full breasts and sent a flood of heat tearing through Conrad. ‘I believe so. Mr Brule’s writings were extensive and I saw nothing in any of his drawings to suggest the creature. However, the illustrations of the emus were not as detailed as I would have liked. I need a specimen I can draw from life. Perhaps the British Museum has one. I’ll visit there tomorrow on my own. They aren’t so particular about who they allow in.’
She offered him a small smile he couldn’t help but return. It was good to see her joking about her situation, it gave him hope she still possessed the fortitude to carry on, unlike Aaron, who’d simply given up.
He stood his book on end on the table between them and rested his hands on the top, as though placing it between them to protect himself from his weakness and her. ‘Whatever else you need to complete your paper, you must gather it quickly. The last Naturalist Society meeting until spring is next week. I’ll make the necessary arrangements for your presentation.’
Panic widened her eyes. ‘No, I can’t.’
‘You must. If you don’t successfully argue your thesis in front of them, then any future work will be ignored.’
She fingered the papers in front of her, folding and unfolding the corner of the top one. ‘You’re right, but I still don’t want to do it.’
‘Sometimes we must do what we must, even when we don’t want to.’ He sighed.
She stood and banged the stack of papers against the table. ‘It’s hardly a lesson you need to teach me.’
‘It isn’t a lesson, but a reminder.’ He laid a calming hand on her arm and the tension of it eased, though it created a more unsettling one down low in his abdomen. ‘Like the ones I had to give myself many times, in harsher places than London.’
‘Of course.’ Understanding whispered between them like the faint hiss of a sparking wick from a nearby lamp. She tucked the papers into the crook of her arm, but continued to fiddle with the dog-eared page. ‘I’ll need to see the creature again, to do a larger drawing, one I can use during the presentation.’
Conrad paused. He’d thought to send her on her way until next week, but as in West Sussex, the creature still linked them. He should have left the bones in the country, but instead he’d brought them with him, thinking to offer them to Mr Buckland or some other eminent biologist to study. He hadn’t ordered them unpacked, but left them in their crate in a dark corner of the kitchen. ‘I’ll have the bones set out in the morning room. You and your aunt are free to come at any time to study them.’
‘You won’t be there?’ Her disappointment was startling. She’d been all too eager to leave him at Heims Hall.
‘I have a number of pressing duties demanding my time.’
‘Preparing for another expedition?’ It was as much a question as an accusation.
Conrad settled his irritation to answer in an even voice. What he did from now on was no longer her concern, just as she believed the truth behind Mr Rukin’s hostility wasn’t his. ‘No. I think Mr Barrow finds my fame more useful for promoting the Discovery Service than a new expedition.’
‘I shouldn’t worry. I’m sure in time he’ll send you out again.’
She guessed he was disappointed at not being given a new command, but she was wrong, though he wasn’t about to admit it to her or anyone else. It was a disgrace to even think it. He wasn’t a man to give into fear, or to shirk duty, no matter how much the thought of setting out again, of having another crew’s lives in his hands, unsettled him.
‘It’s getting late,’ Conrad observed. ‘It’s time I saw you home.’
* * *
A light drizzle fell over the dirty pavements of Cheapside as the hack stopped in front of a simple brick lodging house. The gloom from outside seemed to creep up the stairs with them and cover the cracked plaster and faded wallpaper as Katie guided Conrad up to the first floor and a lone door just off the landing. She kept her gaze focused on the stained runner covering the floorboards, her embarrassment at her new circumstances evident in the faint pink creeping over her neck just beneath the pinned-up curls.
Conrad said nothing, though he wanted very much to take Katie home and set her up in a clean room with enough food to remove the thinness from her cheeks, and a comfortable bed to soften the circles beneath her eyes.
He crossed his hands in front of himself. It was no longer his place to interfere. She’d chosen this life over the one he’d offered. There was no one to blame but herself if it didn’t suit.
The do
or cracked open and two hazel eyes above a thin nose and a thinner chin peered out at them.
‘Oh, Katie, thank heavens you’re back, I was worried about you.’ The door swung open and the thin woman rushed out to wrap Katie in a relieved embrace. Over Katie’s shoulder, the woman noticed Conrad and gently shifted her niece aside, taking him in with appreciation. ‘And is this the famous Captain Essington?’
‘It is,’ Katie concurred with notably less enthusiasm. ‘Captain Essington, allow me to introduce my aunt, Mrs Anderson.’
‘I wish you’d told me you were bringing such an esteemed guest, I’d have been better prepared,’ Mrs Anderson exclaimed as she attempted to tuck a flyaway strand of greying blonde hair into a pin at her temple.
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ Conrad bowed.
‘I’ve read all your pamphlets,’ Mrs Anderson gushed, clapping her hands together in front of her flat chest like a captivated society miss. Katie wasn’t as enamoured with her aunt’s compliments, shooting her relation a chastising look the older women ignored. ‘Your accounts are quite thrilling. Every time I complain about my life being hard, I think about what you and your men suffered and realise my troubles aren’t so very bad.’
Conrad struggled to smile at her as he did the adoring green girls who interrupted his quiet time at the lending library to swoon over him. The suffering of his men and Aaron’s death were too high a price to pay for a few uplifting tracts. ‘Thank you, it means a great deal to me to know my writings have influenced you.’
‘Please, won’t you come in?’ Mrs Anderson waved to a pretty little armchair by the soot stained fireplace. Beside it was a small, round table with a fine set of china on top. It appeared Mrs Anderson had enjoyed more prosperity as a wife than as a widow.
‘No, I must be going. Good evening, Miss Vickers.’ He slid his fingers beneath Katie’s hand and raised it to his lips, the gesture surprising her as much as him. He wasn’t sure when he might see her again and he wanted to draw out this parting moment. As many nights as the dreams of the ice awoke him, so did his dreams of her, her soft body and rich voice drawing him into an oblivion he craved.
