Judge Collins
The footman is as good as his word. No sooner has he left the drawing room than Jason Straw enters with a tall, healthy-looking Englishman apparently in his late forties or early fifties. Judge Collins exhorts his guests to remain seated and comfortable, while Straw handles the introductions.
“A pleasure to meet you all,” the judge booms in a hearty voice. “So glad you’ve decided to stay. Before I forget, I got a rather cryptic telegram from a Mr. Baxter in Bahrain, asking to you ‘continue as planned.’ I assume that no further explanation is
necessary, but if you would like to send a reply, I should be happy to facilitate.”
Shirley nods, expressionless. “You are quite correct, sir, that no reply is needed. Thank you for passing the word.” So the Yard’s surmise about Addison and Madras was mistaken. What have they learned now, Shirley wonders.
“But enough business, eh what? I expect you’d like to refresh yourselves and relax a bit before dinner. The carriage will be ’round in a few minutes, and we shall repair to my humble abode, if you’re amenable. Priscilla is quite looking forward to making your acquaintance, as are Lord and Lady Oglethorpe. I
shall have a footman look after your valises, and I expect your trunks will have been delivered by the time we arrive.”
“Most kind of you. I hope we shall not unduly crowd your dinner table.”
The judge’s eyes sparkle as he laughs. “Guests of honour, crowd the table? I should think not!”
“Thank you, Your Honour. You’re very kind.” Margaret is, once again, every inch the lady of privilege in spite of her somewhat travel-worn appearance.
A footman discreetly announces that the carriage awaits your convenience, and gathers up such bits of luggage are you are willing to relinquish. The open carriage is well-sprung and comfortable, pulled by beautiful, well-groomed horses. It takes
you into an obviously upper-class residential neighborhood, and stops in front of a sizeable Anglo-Indian structure. The footman assists Margaret and Esperanza in their descent.
The interior is classic Anglo-Indian, and impeccably decorated without being stuffy. The judge excuses himself and exhorts his guests to relax until dinner; he will be in his study should you need anything. As the footman leads the trio through elegant and beautiful rooms and up the stairs, they notice that there are fresh flowers everywhere, including every room of the guest suites. Shirley has a bedroom, a small study, and a private bath, while Margaret and Esperanza have a pair of bedrooms, a sitting room, and a bath. The luggage has not only arrived, but it has
been dusted off. Hot baths are steaming in their tubs, and thick towels are piled up next to small baskets of French soaps. The footman informs you that dinner will be at 8:00, and if you need any garments cleaned, you may leave them in the baskets in the
bathroom and they will be laundered and pressed. He also offers to send up a maid (for the ladies) and a valet (for the gentleman) to unpack your trunks if you wish.
“Thank you, but Esperanza can see to our trunks. She is well accustomed to my ways, and it will be easier so. We shall take the opportunity to have our garments cleaned, though. Rail travel may be convenient, but it is terribly dirty.”
And as soon as the door shuts behind the servant, Margaret asks Esperanza to unbutton her dress and unlace her. She is more than ready for a bath, and actually plans to indulge in another in the morning, before they leave.
Knowing that Margaret will decline the offer, Shirley feels quite comfortable doing so himself. After he shuts and locks the door behind the footman, he utters a short, sharp laugh. He has always been nervous about turning down manservants before.
And then he sighs and leans against the door a moment.
Quite a bit of Shirley’s wardrobe lands in the hamper by the bathroom door before he is done going through his trunk. A few of his garments he shakes his head over; he pours cold water into a basin and scrubs at them until the reddish stains have faded to a dim ambiguous beige. It is irksome — the bath is most inviting to his train-cramped body — but it must be done.
Once out of his bath, Shirley indulges in an hour’s nap, curled comfortably under the cool bed-linen. He sternly refuses to allow himself to worry about Margaret and Esperanza in the bazaar. He is the marked man; by rights they should be safe without him. The setting sun in his eyes awakens him in plenty of time to dress for dinner.
He wears, of course, the same impeccably-tailored suit he had donned for Brixby. The effect, however, is wholly altered, owing to niceties of detail: soberer shirt, less elaborate tie, a lighter hand with his hair-comb. Altogether Shirley presents a fine, dignified picture when he rings for the help after a last glance in the enameled mirror.
“Is His Honour at liberty? I should enjoy a moment’s chat before dinner.”
“A moment, please, sir.” The maid disappears, and reappears a moment later. “He would be pleasd to have you join him in his study. If you’ll follow me?”
The maid leads Shirley through some of the same corridors as before, then takes him down a new passage. She announces Shirley and quickly withdraws.
Judge Collins is at his writing-table. “Half a moment, Mr. Addam — just need to complete a few signatures.” He signs a few pages with an enthusiastic flourish, and removes his spectacles as he turns. “Court paperwork,” he smiles ruefully, waving his hand at the impressive towers of paper on the table. “Nothing new to you, I’m sure. How may I be of help?”
The Ellipsoids must indeed have been quite the ravening horde, if His Honour cannot assume any other than a self-serving motive for this visit. “Indeed, sir, I had only hoped to pass a few idle moments talking. But there is one small thing, which I had meant to leave for the morning — we have not yet signed the Ellipse ledger and received our tokens.”
“Ah, of course! Surely, I would forget my own head, were it not attahced.” He pulls a note out of his pocket and copies the receptionist’s record of their arrival into a small, red leatherbound ledger, and signs it. He hands the ledger and pen to Shirley, and reaches into a desk drawer, removing two tokens. “We shall bring the ledger with us for Dr. Byrd to sign before supper.” He hands Shirley one of the tokens and pockets the other. “I trust you shall help me remember her token.”
“Of course, though I do not doubt she will remind you herself.”
“No doubt,” he echoes, with a smile. He waves a hand in the direction of a leather sofa. “Please make yourself comfortable, Mr. Addam, and tell me about your travels. I have been following the Grand Ellipse closely, and I should very much like to hear your impressions of the lands you have seen.”
Shirley takes the offered seat. “Truth be told, sir, I have not given myself much time at the various stops, so my impressions are of the sketchiest. I doubt you can have much interest in the vicissitudes of travel. Speaking of sketches, though — Doctor Byrd’s companion is a talented artist. Perhaps she might be persuaded to show you her sketchbook.”
“I shall do my best to try. Pity you haven’t the time to see more on your trip. Still, I should like to know, if you were to return to any of the places you have seen thus far, which ones would you choose? I quite enjoy travelling myself, and after my time here
ends, I should like to take the scenic route back to London, if you take my meaning.”
> “Quite. Well, I confess to a sneaking sorrow at having missed the Sphinx. But of the places I did see, I thought Gibraltar by far the pleasantest, and I suppose Alexandria the most steeped in history. Though there is much to be said for the Bahrain bazaar, I dare not recommend the place; the British presence there is rather too enamoured of purely English cuisine.”
“I fear I must confess that rumours of Lord Brixby’s excessively boiled dinners strike fear in the hearts of most of Her Majesty’s diplomatic corps. The man’s meals are notorious!”
“You don’t say. Merciful heavens. I wish someone could have warned us! After the bad moment or three we had in the bazaar, Brixby’s boiled beef was utterly beyond sufferance.”
“I am most sorry to hear of your culinary misadventure–you do understand that I use the word culinary only in its very broadest sense, in this case. I suppose everyone assumed that someone else had warned you.” He smiles broadly. “But do tell me about your bad moment in the bazaar–not more of that wretched Addison’s blackguards, I hope!”
“No, not this time, for which I am, I assure you, quite thankful. A lady given to fainting fits suffered one at our feet as we walked through the bazaar to Government House. No harm done, fortunately, but had the doctor not shown considerable good sense there might have been unpleasant repercussions.”
“Again, you should speak to Doctor Byrd, not my ineffectual self,” he goes on, a twinkle in his eye. “She did considerable travelling before embarking on the Ellipse. I am only a raw Yorkshireman; the wonders of the world are quite wasted on me, I fear.”
“I am surprised to hear that from an intelligent man such as yourself, Mr. Addam. Mrs. Collins feels — and I cannot but agree–that everyone can benefit from the experience of travel. Quite an eye-opener, I must say. However, I shall ask her about Alexandria, as you suggest. I have an amateur’s enthusiasm for
Egyptian antiquities.”
Shirley feels the reproach, the more so as it is not unlike the fashion in which he has recently upbraided himself. “Of course you are right, Your Honour; travel must broaden any mind worth educating. I do not say I have learned nothing, only that some of this education I might gladly forego.”
“Mr. Addam, all of us are disillusioned on occasion. If you had truly desired a quiet life, you would have stayed in York, would you not?”
Shirley’s gaze is distant, fixed on some spot outside the open window. “The price is also to be considered. Thus far my education has cost a boy his life, sir.” He tears his eyes away from the lights arising outside, aware that he has spoken out of turn. “But naturally you and Mrs. Collins are attended by no such considerations. Did you speak to the Indian prince about your interest in antiquities? I hear he is a collector himself.”
The judge is clearly relieved to be on safer conversational ground. “Ah, His Highness’s interest seems to be in Oriental art and antiquities, rather than Egyptian. And he did seem rather distracted by his impending nuptial festivities. I suppose some
things are universal, eh what? Her Highness is a lovely woman, I must say. Sharp as a tack, and quite a wicked wit. His Highness is sure to have an interesting time of it.”
“Excuse me, do I understand correctly that Prince Singh is about to be married? Now? In the middle of the race? He said nothing of this in London!”
“Indeed he is, if Her Highness, Princess Pathak, has anything to say about it. I believe there is an article or two in the Times; I shall have the recent issues left in the library for you.”
“Thank you; much appreciated. It sounds, however, as if you have more knowledge of this than the Times will give me. Can you share any of it?”
“Hmmm…other than the articles about the royal wedding, I recall nothing of note, other than Judge Wilcox’s unfortunate demise.”
“Ah, yes, I saw the headline… the less said, the better, I daresay. He leaves a wife and a son at Oxford. I hope they are provided for.”
“As I recall, his wife is a very shrewd woman. I expect she will be able to make the best of the unfortunate situation.”
“Mm.” Shirley decides the earlier subject is the safer one. “One gets the impression that the Prince was rather surprised himself. I suppose there is somewhat of a gap between the knowledge of the impending event and the actual experience of waiting for it.”
“Hm. Are you quite sure he knew? Royal weddings are rarely arranged by the actual participants, here as elsewhere. Poor fellow, he must be in a state. Dare I ask whether his bride plans to accompany him on the remainder of the Ellipse?”
“Perhaps. Surely, he knew he had a fiancee, and that he would have to marry her sooner or later. As for whether Princess Pathak will accompany her new husband… in most cases, I shoulld guess not, but Her Highness is a most intrepid sort. Who knows? She may do exactly that.”
Shirley adopts a bemused expression. “I am finding this curiously difficult to imagine. I suppose that is because I have not met the lady. Still, I should not have imagined His Highness inspiring such attachment. A worthy individual, no doubt, but — not precisely the ladies’ man.”
“All the better for the Princess, then, eh?” He smiles broadly. “Perhaps you shall have the opportunity to meet her after the Ellipse runs its course.”
Margaret and Esperanza, on their way down to the dining room, overhear the voices in the study. As the door is open, they come in. Shirley arises immediately. “Ah, Doctor Byrd! Your Honour, shall we manage the Ellipse formalities now, so as not to disarrange dinner with business?”
She smiles at both of them. “Thank you, Mr. Addam. I had wondered when to best raise that question. Our welcome has been so kind, I hardly liked to mention business at all.”
“Well, I cannot have His Honour thinking I would cheat a fellow competitor, now can I?” Flippant words, but spoken without especial gaiety — almost dull, in fact. Something in Shirley’s face catches her attention; she gives him a brief quizzical look that inquires “are you quite all right?”, but does not say anything.
He turns toward the window for a breath of air; on turning back, he is quite his courteous, self-possessed self again. “My word, Doctor, you are quite splendid tonight!” he exclaims with sincerity, admiring the richly-coloured silks. “Nowhere in all of India, nor even China, could I feast my eyes so. Miss Garcia, as always you refresh the senses.”
The judge senses that something is going on, but chooses to ignore it, covering any awkwardness by handing Margaret the ledger and a pen with which to sign it. Margaret notices that her and Shirley’s arrival time is recorded as the time that they entered Government House, rather than the current time. After she hands the ledger back, His Honour presents her with the token. “And who is this young lady?” he asks, indicating Esperanza. “Shall you sign the register as well?”
Esperanza blushes violently and murmurs something about not being an Ellipsoid herself, only that she has the honour of accompanying two of them.
“Bah! what a rude sluggard I am, to be sure. Your Honour, I am most pleased to present to you Miss Esperanza Garcia y Gutierrez, lately of Gibraltar, artist, avid student of language, and worthy companion to Doctor Byrd.” He takes care with the pronunciation of her name, rolling his double-r’s with aplomb; she cannot fault the result.
Esperanza curtsies nicely and says “Pleased to meet you, Your Honour.” The judge bows in return. “Likewise, Miss Esperanza.” And to the trio “Shall we be off to the salon? Lord and Lady Oglethorpe are expected at any moment.”
“Of course,” says Shirley, stepping aside so that the judge can precede him. As senior gentleman present, naturally he escorts the doctor; Shirley offers his arm to Esperanza. “Quédate conmigo, eh?” Shirley says to her under his breath, patting her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Con todos estos hidalgos, nosotros los plebeyos tenemos que quedarnos juntos.”
Esperanza replies, in Spanish, “But of course. Without us, nothing important would ever get done.”
Margaret clears her throat briefly, to give herself an excuse to cover her grin. She smiles thanks at Shirley, and nods a reassurance to Esperanza. Then she turns to chat with the Judge as they go down the hall. “I have seen flowers everywhere, both here and at Government House. Is it yourself or Mrs. Collins that so enjoys gardening?”
“Mrs. Collins is quite an avid gardener. Got black fingers, myself. Used to have an American cactus, which unfortunately perished as I forgot to water it often enough.” He laughs a bit, and continues. “I expect that Mrs. Collins will require quite the conservatory when we return to London. She has been collecting orchids of late. Are you a gardener, Doctor?”
“I have never really taken the time for it, but I very much enjoy the results of others’ efforts.”
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