The Captain's Frozen Dream

by Georgie Lee

  The bench shook as someone dropped down on the other end.

  ‘I see you weren’t content to ruin just your father’s reputation, but mine, too.’

  Katie jerked up to meet Mr Rukin’s taunting jeer, his lips curling in disgust as they had when she’d rejected his advances.

  ‘You deserve what Conrad did to you.’ Katie flipped closed the sketchbook and rose, forcing him to his feet.

  ‘What favours did you promise Mr Winston and Mr Lambert to make them humour your pathetic attempts at science?’ He made no mention of the women, considering them, like Katie, beneath him. ‘They barely give me or my papers any consideration.’

  Katie narrowed her eyes at the nasty man, amazed to think she’d once considered him her colleague and friend. ‘What reason would they have to acknowledge someone who plagiarises in order to succeed?’

  He stepped closer, the toe of his boot tapping hers. ‘Don’t give yourself airs about your research. I know the only reason you’re here is because you’re bedding Captain Essington and the entire scientific community knows it, too.’

  ‘How dare you,’ Katie seethed. ‘I work as hard as any man for what I have.’

  ‘On your back.’

  Out of nowhere, Conrad appeared and clapped a hand on Mr Rukin’s shoulder and spun him around. A sickening crack filled the air as Conrad’s fist rammed into Mr Rukin’s face, knocking him to the floor.

  ‘You broke my nose,’ Mr Rukin wailed, blanching at the blood covering his fingers and staining the white cuffs of his shirt.

  Conrad grabbed him by the cravat and hauled him to his feet, drawing him up eye to eye with him, oblivious to the blood dripping on his hand. ‘Speak to her like that again, in public or private, and I’ll break more than your nose.’

  He shoved Mr Rukin away and the man stumbled, coming to a hard stop against the bench.

  Conrad took Katie by the arm and pulled her towards the entrance. She struggled to keep hold of her pencils and sketches and to ignore the crowd of surprised onlookers. It wasn’t just the couples and grandparents who watched them with a mixture of disapproval and horror, but Miss Benett and all the scientific men milling around after the lecture. Some nodded their silent approval at Conrad’s behaviour. Others weren’t so supportive, scowling at them or huddling to whisper as they passed.

  Even in the shadow of Conrad’s chaise, Katie couldn’t shake the sting of the disapproving looks. She could practically hear the story whisking through society, especially among the learned men she was trying so hard to impress. The chaise set off, rocking in time to the horse’s gait, the motion more irritating than soothing. No matter how hard she tried to avoid scandal and gossip, there seemed no way to escape it.

  ‘You didn’t need to hit him,’ Katie chastised, the tension between her and Conrad riveting the air more than the rub of leather straps against the wooden sides.

  ‘I was defending your honour.’

  ‘Most won’t see it that way.’

  ‘What does it matter? Most believe we’re still engaged and view it as a fiancé protecting his intended.’

  ‘But we aren’t engaged and some day the truth will come out. Then what will people think? They’ll call me your whore and say Mr Rukin was right and everything we’ve struggled to build will be ruined.’

  Conrad rested his elbow on the edge of the carriage and pressed his fingers to his temples, viewing her with sickening disappointment. ‘Even when I help you, you blame me for your troubles. No matter what I do, you’ll never see me as anything more than the man who failed you by leaving.’

  ‘No, that’s not it at all, only you don’t understand what I’ve suffered, what I continue to suffer day after day. No one’s ever looked down on you or scorned you for things you never did.’

  He sat forward, his anger simmering just beneath his control. ‘Yes, my life has been one pleasurable experience after another, especially during the last year and a half.’

  She twisted her hands in frustration, unsure of how to make him understand. ‘But everyone still looks on you as a hero.’

  ‘You’re right. How could I know what it is to endure harsh looks and whispers when I was fighting for mine and my men’s lives?’ Conrad cried.

  Katie moved into the corner, clutching her sketch pad to her chest. ‘Your suffering is over and some day time will lessen the pain of it while mine continues. It always will because I’m a woman.’

  ‘My suffering isn’t over.’ Conrad slipped a handkerchief from his coat and rubbed at the maroon drops on the top of his hand. ‘It’s with me each and every day, just like yours. Only I don’t blame you for all my miseries.’

  Katie turned to the window, watching the small snowflakes catch on the glass, then melt in fat drops to run down the pane. He was to blame for making her believe in their future together at Heims Hall only to take it away by leaving. He was responsible for leaving her vulnerable to his uncle’s attacks and not being there to defend her. He was the one who’d chosen to strike Mr Rukin today. No matter how glad she was to see the man suffer, it was a fleeting happiness since this story would further soil her name.

  The chaise rocked to a halt in front of her aunt’s lodging house. Katie reached for the door, ready to bolt from the carriage, eager to be alone, but Conrad shifted forward to turn the handle and step down on to the pavement. He held out his hand, waiting in stiff silence for her to take it. There was no warmth in his grip as he helped her out into the biting and fetid wind of Cheapside.

  He stared straight ahead as they climbed the stairs to her aunt’s door, acknowledging nothing and no one else, not even her. His indifference cut as deeply as Mr Rukin’s insinuations. She thought of the letter in her satchel and the remaining money from the sale of her father’s things hidden beneath the floorboards. America still loomed, but just as she hadn’t given up on herself when faced with Mr Rukin’s criticism and insults in the Egyptian Hall, she wasn’t ready to abandon everything. If Conrad had taught her nothing else, it was to stand tall and fight for herself and there was one battle left to be waged, assuming Conrad intended to still sponsor her before the Naturalist Society.

  They stopped at her door and Conrad finally faced her, his jaw tight, his shoulders stiff. ‘I have business to attend to in the next few days. I won’t be available to assist you with your research.’

  She shifted the sketchbook in her hands and swallowed hard. This was the same type of response she used to hear whenever she’d approached her father’s associates for help during the first days of the Marquis of Helton’s whispering campaign. Now Conrad was distancing himself from her, too, and she feared, unlike the day she’d first approached him in his study, there would be nothing to make him change his mind about helping.

  ‘And the presentation to the Naturalist Society?’ She held her breath, waiting for his answer. There was little reason to continue her research, or stay in England, if she couldn’t present it.

  ‘I’ll fulfil my promise to sponsor you.’

  ‘And afterwards?’ It shouldn’t matter if Conrad refused to involve himself with her again. It was better to let him go now than to spend another day on the docks searching for any sign of his ship. Yet the idea of being separated from him scared her more than the thought of standing before the harsh glares of the members. It shouldn’t, but it did.

  He moved to leave, then stopped, scratching at a red stain on his shirt cuff with his fingernail. ‘Last night, when you argued that I shouldn’t resign my commission, I thought it was because you understood me and who I am. I see now I was mistaken. You weren’t arguing for why I should continue on, but for why you believed I’d go again.’

  ‘But you will, won’t you?’ Even if he winced at her question, it was the truth and they both knew it.

  He tugged his cuff straight, then dropped his arms, but didn’t answer. His silen
ce was as much a confirmation as if he’d spoken.

  There was no vindication for Katie in being right, only a hollowness which sat heavy on her chest. ‘It’s not simply about your leaving.’

  ‘Of course it is.’

  ‘It’s more than that. Can’t you understand?’ She reached for his arm, but he shifted away from her.

  ‘I do. I know what your mother did, I remember how you cried out the truth of it in my arms in West Sussex.’ He did understand. It should have elated her, but the hardness darkening his eyes offered little sympathy, or reason to be glad. ‘We aren’t our pasts, Katie.’

  ‘Don’t pretend your past doesn’t consume you as much as mine.’ She wouldn’t accept all responsibility for the strain between them now. He was just as culpable for letting his legacy govern him.

  ‘Yes, we both have our demons to wrestle. It’s a fight I thought we could wage together. Apparently, I was wrong. After Tuesday, you may follow whatever path you choose. I won’t burden you with my presence any longer.’

  He made off down the stairs, disappearing out of the door faster than the heat from a poorly vented fireplace.

  Small flakes of snow which had swept in when the door was open dropped to mix with the puddle of mud and grime staining the old floorboards. He was gone, as if he’d set sail again, and she nearly chased after him to call him back. Instead, she remained on the landing, determined not to move. No matter what his kisses had suggested the other night, what tantalising promise his caresses had held, the events of today had proven there was no future for them.

  Katie slipped the key out of her reticule and into the lock of the door, letting herself into the plain room. The coals in the fireplace were low, her aunt having gone out to collect her sewing work for the week. This wasn’t the first time she’d come home to lonely and cold rooms either here or in the country. She should be glad for the solitude, the chance to work undisturbed, but she wasn’t.

  Katie set her sketchbooks on the small tea table and lit one of the tallow candles, not wanting to stoke the fire and use any more of her aunt’s precious and expensive coal. Leaving her pelisse on to keep warm, she fetched the satchel from where it sat in the corner of the room. From inside the faded canvas, she withdrew her books and papers and spread them out on the table beside her sketchbook, determined not to waste a moment of the next three days of research. Tuesday was her last chance to redeem herself and create the life she’d craved since leaving Whitemans Green, the only life still left to her.

  While she read, she struggled to focus on her work and not Conrad or the things they’d said to one another in the chaise. She didn’t have time to worry about it, or to do anything except prepare, but no matter how much she concentrated, Conrad’s words echoed through the quiet room. I don’t spend every day blaming you for all my miseries.

  Katie closed the book and sat back. He’d accused her of being selfish in her pain and he was right. She’d lost her reputation while he was gone, but for her there was always America and the chance to start again. Unlike her good name, his friend could never be resurrected.

  Shame settled over her as she looked at the papers and books in front of her. Every single one of them was a testament to Conrad’s care and generosity. She picked up a paper close to her, studying the co-ordinates Conrad had provided from his log to support her claim no animal could survive so far north. Next to each was a sampling of the daily temperatures, a stark reminder of the harsh conditions he’d faced. The small numbers were shaky and uneven, as if he’d struggled through the tremors in his hand to make them, just as he’d struggled through the ice to reach home, and her.

  She set down the paper and picked up the drawing of the creature she’d made the other night. The back of the skull was incomplete because Conrad had interrupted her to reveal his secret shame and pain. The faraway look which had come into Conrad’s eyes then, and again today when he’d faced the polar bear, haunted her. He’d suffered things she couldn’t imagine, things which still tormented him, and when he’d confided in her she’d been unable to put aside her own troubles to truly comfort him. Instead, she’d ignored his grief to wallow in her own, just like her mother used to do.

  Two tears fell from her cheeks to smudge the lines of the creature’s teeth. For all her efforts to avoid becoming like her parents, everything she did seemed to mimic them and bring about more unhappiness. It was as if there was no way to escape it or the damage it wreaked on her and Conrad. Yet even when she’d insulted him and everything he’d suffered in the north, he was still determined to stand beside her and keep his promise.

  She didn’t deserve it.

  She set aside the creature and wiped away the dampness on her cheeks, not wanting to surrender to the hopelessness gnawing at her. She’d made so many mistakes with Conrad, not in accepting him, but in pushing him away, and they couldn’t be undone. When he was gone, she would be alone again to make her way as best she could, as she always had. Her work would keep her going, though tonight it seemed a very hollow and sad companion.

  She shouldn’t have let Conrad walk away.

  She set aside the sketches and returned to his page of temperatures, trying to keep the regret at bay. Even if she chased after him, there was nothing she could say. Any apology she might make would be too weak, words not enough to close the wounds between them. There needed to be something more, but there was nothing of value or influence she held which she could offer him. It was another glaring reminder of how selfish she’d been after all his generosity.

  She was about to set the paper with the temperatures aside when a snippet of her conversation with Mr Winston came back to her.

  ‘Winter has been coming earlier over the past four years.’

  She read down the list of temperatures, seeing the cruel way they descended before rising again in the spring, though never as high as they’d been the year before.

  Winter came early.

  She tapped the table with her fingers, wishing she’d paid more attention to what Mr Winston had said, but with Conrad smiling at her from across the table, it had been difficult. Staring at the falling degrees, she cleared her mind and forced herself to focus.

  ‘I believe such information could be of great help to men like Captain Essington.’

  Katie sat up straight. Conrad blamed himself for the loss of Gorgon, but maybe he was wrong, and maybe Mr Winston could prove it. If so, then it was the single way she could apologise and thank him, the only one which held any meaning.

  * * *

  ‘No matter what I do she keeps pushing me away, blaming me for her troubles. Then, when I provide solutions, she blames me even more.’ Conrad paced in front of Henry, nearly wearing a hole in the Navy Club sitting-room rug. Her accusation in the carriage, her swift dismissal of his suffering, singed his insides like a freezing wind. He didn’t deserve her scorn, any more than his father had deserved Lord Helton’s. ‘I was ready to marry her once, but even then she was more willing to live in poverty surrounded by the memory of her father and all his failings than accept me and security.’

  ‘I think it’s time to realise whatever you and Miss Vickers enjoyed before you left is gone.’ Henry crossed his ankle over his knee as Conrad stopped before the window. Outside, in the fading twilight, the bright lanterns of the carriages glowed with the flecks of falling snow.

  ‘I have.’ He’d have nothing more to do with her after Tuesday and never again subject himself to her constant doubts about his faithfulness.

  ‘Then cut her loose now. Don’t bother with the Naturalist Society.’

  ‘I can’t. I pledged to stand beside her and I intend to see it through.’ He resumed his pacing, feeling more like a caged dog here than in Gorgon’s cramped quarters. ‘I can’t fail anyone else. I’ve already let down myself, Aaron, you.’

  He motioned to Henry’s gloved hand. Henry flexed his
fingers, then slid them between his thigh and the chair to slip a bag of tobacco from his pocket. ‘I don’t blame you for what happened.’

  ‘Aaron did.’ And so do I. ‘I saw it in his eyes before he left the tent.’

  ‘We thought Aaron the toughest man aboard ship. He boasted as if he was, but he wasn’t.’ Henry pulled open the strings of the pouch. ‘All his swaggering was his way of concealing his weakness.’

  Like Katie’s act of pushing Conrad away was meant to conceal hers. Conrad balled his hand, but his fingers failed to hold the grip and he relaxed them. ‘Aaron didn’t deserve to die because he put on a good show of being strong.’

  ‘No, he didn’t, but he knew the dangers of signing up, just like every man did, and he accepted them.’ Henry packed the pungent tobacco into the bowl of the pipe. ‘So did you.’

  ‘Which is why I ordered everyone to get up and walk, even when they wanted to lie down and die.’

  ‘And we all obeyed and lived, except Aaron. It was his decision to disobey, not yours.’

  Conrad splayed his fingers in front of him, not bothering to conceal the tremor as he struggled to accept what Henry said. It was the truth, but still Conrad couldn’t find absolution. ‘What fate awaits Katie when I finally turn my back on her?’

  ‘She isn’t Aaron, Conrad.’ Henry lit his pipe, as blunt with his opinion today as he’d been aboard ship in the privacy of Conrad’s quarters. ‘Continuing to help her won’t bring him back, or make any man whole again.’