The Blog of Roon

Rangoon is peachy-keen-fine—more or less. Father Dean appears to be approximately two years older than God, with none of the benefits of being a deity. When you arrive in his study, he puts down his pen, goes to look for the ledger, realizes that he can’t find his pen, looks for it and picks it up, forgets that he was looking for the ledger, forgets who you are, and upon being reminded, goes through the entire cycle again before you manage to sign in. Also, the token is an odd three-dimensional elliptical item (blimp-shaped), rather than the medallions you have been receiving, as if someone misunderstood the design specifications. Still, he’s very pleased to
make your acquaintance and offers his assistance with… what was it you needed?

Shirley is very patient with him, even kind. He has seen such before; they rarely have long to live.

On the way to hiring your horses, you pass through the market, where a very enthusiastic girl of perhaps ten years is desperate to sell you a basket of frogs. She assures you that they are “Quite fresh and most delicious.” Taste may be open to question, but the frogs are definitely fresh–still kicking, in fact.

As the Ellipsoids arrive in the salon, Lord and Lady Oglethorpe enter from a different door. Collins remarks that their timing is indeed impeccable, and introduces the trio. Lady Oglethorpe is fluent in English, although she does have a slight Italian accent. Her husband, obviously much older, is one of those large, beefy, red-faced Englishmen.

No sooner have the introductions finished than Mrs. Collins enters the room. She looks kind and matronly, and is trailed by a small, ornamental dog.

Lady Oglethorpe favours both His Honour and Shirley with warm, flirtatious smiles.

Shirley bows first to his hostess Mrs. Collins, next to Lady Oglethorpe, murmuring the appropriate greetings and compliments. Between the two salutations there is not one jot of difference. He waits for the ladies and His Honour to give the appropriate cues for seating arrangements — devoutly hoping there will be someone between him and the alarming Lady Oglethorpe.

Margaret greets Mrs. Collins and the Oglethorpes with warm graciousness. She is almost a different person than the relaxed, informal companion that Shirley and Esperanza are accustomed to seeing. She had a formal Coming Out and a Season in London, and suddenly they can see the Lady whose social position assured her of those privileges. She allows the Judge to seat her to his right, nodding to Esperanza to take the seat beside her. Then she looks at Shirley, realizing that this sort of formal dinner is probably not something he is very familiar with. She looks at him, then briefly at Mrs. Collins, then at the chair beside Mrs. Collins. He is very quick; she trusts him to catch the cue and seat his hostess, then take a seat to her right.

Shirley does as instructed, mentally berating himself for not realizing that he, not Lord Oglethorpe, is guest of honour. Not the position he generally finds himself in; he admits to himself as he pulls out his own chair that he will need to become accustomed to it. He expected notoriety as a result of the Ellipse, but not so soon and not so much. Esperanza remains silent, following Margaret’s cues and imitating her manner as much as possible. She has absolutely no idea what to do and is trying very hard to remain calm and alert. This time it’s Margaret’s turn to be grateful that Esperanza looks young enough that she will not be expected to participate in the conversation. She resolves mentally to pick up a book on etiquette for young ladies when they visit the bookseller’s.

As soon as everyone is seated, Lady Oglethorpe favours Shirley with another warm smile and asks, “Mr. Addam, please do tell us of your impressions of Madras.” Shirley finds himself at the center of attention, except for Esperanza, who is desperately contemplating the flatware, studying the complex arrangement as if it were the Rosetta stone. Margaret catches her eye, then takes her napkin and spreads it carefully across her lap. Esperanza precisely imitates Margaret’s move, as if it is the opening sally in a chess game.

“Quite favorable, to be sure,” Shirley answers coolly. “I only got a glimpse of the bazaar on the way to Government House, but I found the variety and excellence of available goods most wonderful.

“And of course,” he adds, turning toward his host and hostess, “I have nothing but praise for the welcome I have found here.” He at first intended to say ‘my companions and I,’ but Esperanza’s confusion spurs him to keep attention away from her as best he can. “May I ask how long you have lived in Madras, Mrs. Collins?”

Mrs. Collins defers to Lady Oglethorpe, who continues to smile warmly at Shirley. “We have been here for… oh… twelve years or so, now. This is William’s second term of service here. I have become quite fond of India, I must say.” She tosses her hair a bit, revealing a bit more decolletage in the process.

Mrs. Collins appears oblivious to the flirtation. “We have been here nearly five years, and Lady Fortuna has been most helpful to us in that time. I daresay there isn’t an English family in Madras that is unknown to her.”

Margaret isn’t oblivious. She is both bemused and amused. She glances at Esperanza, then picks up the correct spoon rather more slowly than her usual movements, although not enough to be obvious. She very carefully does *not* look directly at Shirley, for fear that they will both burst out laughing at the absurdity of the whole thing.

The soup is served. On first glance, it is a harmless consomme, but the steam arising from the bowl promises a bit of heat that has nothing to do with temperature. Margaret tastes carefully, then eats it with every evidence of ease and pleasure. Lady Oglethorpe delicately sips her soup, subtly licking her lips whenever Shirley glances her way.

Shirley tries to catch Esperanza’s eye before picking up the correct spoon. He is careful with his first taste of the soup, mindful of the reputation of Indian cookery. “Ah, indeed,” he says. “How large is the English community here?”

Esperanza is on the keen edge of awareness and follows Shirley’s example. She seems utterly unaffected by the bite of the consomme. It is pleasantly spicy to those accustomed to it, but perhaps a bit much for those new to the powerful spices of Anglo-Indian cuisine.

Mrs. Collins ponders for a moment. “I am not sure, but certainly several hundred, I should think. Fortuna?”

“Mmmmm…I believe you are correct. Of course, people are always coming and going–there’s a great deal of trade that passes through Madras. Generally, the state of one’s garden is a good indication of how long one has been in England. Those of us who are old hands generally have more elaborate and established plantings.”

Lord Oglethorpe speaks at last. “Not to mention the number of horses one has acquired. We’ve quite the stableful. Just acquired a lovely Arabian last year, name of Vajra. Four years old, and quite the goer. Sneaks sugar-lumps right out of the grooms’ pockets.”

As the soup course is cleared away, Shirley notices that Lady Oglethorpe is making smouldering eye contact with him. En garde, he thinks. If a stop is not put to this now, he will have no peace the entire meal.

Shirley meets the woman’s eyes full-on, as he cannot possibly avoid doing otherwise. Slowly and deliberately, he raises one eyebrow, lifts his lip slightly, and leans away, changing his entire aspect to one of well-bred protest of indecorous antics. He blinks several times to express civil disdain, and turns quite away. His gaze passes Margaret, and he gives her a tiny shrug. What can one do, faced with such behaviour? the movement says, as much to Lady Oglethorpe as to Margaret — or rather more.

Lady Oglethorpe knows a challenge when she sees one. She gives Shirley another warm smile, and turns her attention to the curried crab that comprises the “fish” course. Shirley breathes a tiny sigh of relief. At least the frightful woman can take a hint.

He starts on the crab slowly, so as to demonstrate the proper method of crab dismemberment for Esperanza. He does not bother to seek her attention; he knows she will be watching. Poor girl. She must feel terribly out of her element. Shirley had wondered, many days ago in Alexandria, why Margaret left her in the kitchen. If he had not had so many other things to think about that night, it would have bothered him. He understands now, though — it was kindness, not snobbery — and wishes he could spare her this ordeal, or magically send her the knowledge to manage it. Esperanza furtively watches Shirley’s crab
dismemberment technique. She is slow and methodical, but seems sufficiently familiar with crab anatomy to manage well enough to avoid notice. He finds a moment to smile at her — preferably when Lady Oglethorpe has her eye on him. Lady Oglethorpe notices and raises an eyebrow. Let her. Smiling at a travelling companion is well within the bounds of propriety. Shirley returns his eyes to his plate, however, lest Lady Oglethorpe take it into her mind to torment the girl. Esperanza is oblivious to this as she gives Shirley a tiny, relieved grin. And Margaret makes a point to smile at him fondly, also when Lady Oglethorpe is looking. No harm in letting her see which way the wind blows.

“Do you arrange the flower displays at Government House also, Mrs. Collins?” Shirley asks. “I am no expert, I fear, but I did see a general similarity of taste.”

“Why, yes, I do, with my daughter Elizabeth’s assistance. She is only thirteen, but I like to think that she has inherited my green fingers. She seems to have a gift with orchids; they flourish in her care.”

Ah, the doting mother. “A valuable gift indeed. Is Elizabeth your only child?”

“We are fortunate enough to have two other daughters–the eldest, Alexandra, was married last Season, and the youngest, Beatrice, is eleven.”

Lord Oglethorpe has engaged Judge Collins in a discussion of horses, mostly involving how to curb “impish” behaviour in one’s mount. It seems that Vajra has an unpleasant habit of trying to lose his rider mid-jump, “much to the groom’s dismay, poor lad. Of course, to add insult to injury, Vajra trotted right ’round and lifted the lad’s hat as well. Hah!”

“Oh, you must be so proud of them!” Margaret says to Mrs. Collins. “Where is Alexandra living now? Are you able to see her often?”

“She and her husband, Lord Rosebury, live in London now, so unfortunately, we will not be able to visit often, so long as we are in Madras. She is wonderful about writing letters, though; I hear from her at least twice a week.”

Shirley feels something rub against his leg as the entree of lamb roast and a variety of vegetable dishes are served. Lady Oglethorpe is faouring him yet again with one of her warm smiles. This is nothing less than war declared. Shirley has made his feelings known already. Now he must simply ignore her. He makes no further attempt to avoid her eyes, but his own pass her over as if she were no more than the crystal salt-cellar on the table. He favours Esperanza, Margaret, and Mrs. Collins equally with glances and nods, while he waits his chance to divert Lord Oglethorpe from his endless horse stories.

As for the touch on his leg — perhaps Mrs. Collins has forgot to lock up the cat. Shirley pays the animal no heed whatever. A small set of claws dig into Shirley’s leg insistently, just above the ankle. Mrs. Collins has indeed forgotten to shoo the cat out of the dining room. Shirley winces, and issues Lady Oglethorpe a silent apology.

Mrs. Collins notices Shirley’s apparent distress. “Are you well, Mr. Addam?”

He refrains from actually kicking the cat, but he nudges it as firmly as he can — in a direction away from Lady Oglethorpe; another such misunderstanding would be downright dangerous — without creating an incident. “Quite all right, thank you, Mrs. –”

Esperanza starts as the cat yowls from under the table and leaps into her lap, pausing there just long enough to pounce onto the table. A smoky grey ball of fur makes for the lamb roast.

Shirley quickly stands up to seize the cat before it can reach the roast or wreak havoc with the table decorations. “Aha!” he exclaims jovially, adjusting his hold on the animal to a more natural position. “This, then, is the culprit! Judge Collins, I must institute a proceeding in your court against this malefactor here in my hands. The charge is assault, and the evidence is written on my person.” He checks the roast for damages. “One might add a charge of attempted robbery as well. Very serious matter, indeed. Where shall we incarcerate the accused while we await trial?”

Margaret is laughing so hard she has recourse to her handkerchief. Ladylike or not, she can’t help it. Esperanza is trying so hard not to laugh that she is very nearly in danger of rupturing something. Mrs. Collins and Lord Oglethorpe stare, mutely appalled at the feline disruption, while Lady Oglethorpe seems to
have been seized by a “coughing” fit that brings tears to her eyes. Only Judge Collins manages to stop laughing long enough to reply. “An excellent bit of police work, Officer Addam; you seem to have a gift for it! The court finds the culprit guilty of assault, attempted robbery, and malicious mischief besides. The penalty is exile, to be executed immediately.” His Honour stands and walks over to Shirley. “Will you remand the culprit to the court’s custody, sir?”

“Certainly, Your Honour,” says Shirley, carefully handing the struggling animal over. “Have a care, sir; I believe the defendant not wholly resigned to fate.”

“This offender is well known to the court, Mr. Addam. She is utterly without remorse, and dedicated to a life of misdeeds. If you will excuse me for a moment.” He exits the dining room, with the offender
firmly held in one arm. The cat — just out of kittenhood, really — gives a piteous yowl.

“Oh, dear,” says Shirley. “We shall have to consider time off for penitence.”

Margaret manages to get a few words out through her giggles. “I trust the court will take account of the youth of the offender? A pity it was not possible to dis-arm the miscreant prior to sentencing, but there it is.”

His Honour pauses at the door, and says over his shoulder, “I am afraid that this apparently remorseful miscreant has a history of taking advantage of the court’s clemency. No quarter can be given.”

“Indeed,” says Lady Oglethorpe, wiping her eyes, and giving both Margaret and Shirley a warm, open smile that is utterly unlike her previous expression. She leans towards Esperanza and Margaret and murmurs something in Italian, which causes Esperanza to stare for a moment, then burst into a “coughing” fit.

Aside, Margaret murmurs to Esperanza in Arabic “Thank heavens for the cat.” Esperanza’s face turns quite red, before she manages
to get her “cough” under control. When she is back in control, Margaret says to her very softly, “Do remember and translate for me after dinner, will you please?” Esperanza nods, wiping her eyes.

Shirley straightens the tablecloth, disarranged by the cat’s passage, before resuming his seat. “I do most sincerely apologize, Mrs. Collins,” he says to that worthy lady. “I daresay I must have irritated the poor beast, to cause it to behave so. I assure you I intended no harm.”

“Mr. Addam, it is I who should apologize; I am certain that the incident was none of your doing. Bottle of Smoke is a most… excitable feline.”

“Well, no harm done, to me, the cat, or the roast. Esperanza?”

“I believe I have recovered, thank you,” she replies in Spanish edged by giggles.

Lady Oglethorpe’s eyebrows go up at that, but she says nothing and takes a sip of her wine. “I say, Mr. Addam, that was a splendid capture. Have you cats of your own?”

“No, I fear not, though my landlady in York has a moggie who has done me rather more significant damage with rather less provocation.”

“Treacherous creatures, cats,” opines Lord Oglethorpe. “Too clever for their own good.”

Margaret appears to be holding her breath, but keeps her eyes carefully on her plate. If she looks across the table at either Shirley or Lady Oglethorpe, she will either burst into inexplicable laughter or say something utterly unforgivable. Esperanza whispers to Margaret in Spanish “Do you suppose we could get one?”

“When we return to London? I don’t see a problem with that.”

Shirley narrowly avoids choking, considering Lord Oglethorpe has just described his wife to a nicety. For the first time, he begins to feel sorry for her.

When the judge returns to his place, Shirley moves to forestall yet more horse stories from Lord Oglethorpe. “The ladies will have to forgive me for talking shop, but I am eager to know, Judge Collins: aside from feline offenders, what sorts of cases come up in court here?”

The judge ponders for a moment. “Much the same as you would see in York, I expect. There has been some anti-British activity lately — mostly peaceful, mind you — but occasionally it erupts into a riot. Then we see the usual assault, looting, that sort of thing. Unpleasant business, Mr. Addam.”

“Yes, indeed,” Shirley answers with a slight cough, remembering the Malta docks. “This will seem an odd question, no doubt, but I have reason for asking: have any Englishmen been implicated in the recent anti-British unrest?”

“Not to my knowledge, Mr. Addam. I shouldn’t be surprised if there were some Russians involved, however. They’ve had an eye on India since Catherine II’s reign, and their recent gains in the lands to the north have made them bold, indeed.”

“Quite. I wonder what our fellow competitor from the northern kingdoms — Jhalwar, isn’t it? — would have to say on the subject.”

“The Singh family have been some of Her Majesty’s staunchest supporters. From what one hears about the Russian methods of conquest, I hardly expect that Her Majesty’s subjects in Jhalwar would prefer the Tsar’s rule.”

“Mm. I admit not having paid close attention to Russian incursions. One does wonder, though, whether the Ellipse might have been an excuse to send a dozen or so sharp English minds through Russia to draw their own conclusions.”

“Interesting” Margaret says. “And other Europeans? Prussians, or the like?”

“Germans,” sniffs Oglethorpe “Too busy in Africa, I daresay.”

Lady Oglethorpe smiles tolerantly at her husband. “Certainly, you have more of an opportunity to speak to the ordinary people than we established sort often do. As much as one may enjoy European society, we do tend to be rather insular. But enough of politics; it is bad for the digestion.”

“I knew I should regret bringing it up,” says Shirley cheerfully.
“Perhaps you should choose our next topic, Lady Oglethorpe.”

“I must confess that I should very much like to hear your impressions — both you and Doctor Byrd — of the Grand Ellipse, so far. Lady Anastasia kindly gave me her impressions not so long ago, and I think it should be interesting to compare.”

“Impressions?” Margaret repeats. “Mostly that the world is a more varied place than even I had realized, and yet that taken individually, people are much the same, advantages of race and education aside.” Shirley taps his knuckles softly on the table by way of applause. “Look at the items to be found in the bazaars,” Margaret continues; “they may be primitive, but they can scarcely be called simple for all that, and some are quite ingenious.

“As for individual stops on the Ellipse, Gibraltar gave me a delightful reception; one I recall all the more fondly because Colonel Barstow recommended Esperanza to me as a companion there. We saw very little of Malta, as our ship docked only long enough to permit me to sign the register and collect my token, although we did see some rather odd protesters. They were marching for worker’s rights, but their signs were in English. I did not have opportunity to inquire into their provenence, and they gave us no direct trouble. In Alexandria, our reception was also quite wonderful, although we did have a bit of an interesting encounter in the bazaar with a local woman whom I suspect is given to delusions.”

“That was in Bahrain, Doctor.”

“Oh, yes indeed.” Margaret blushes a little. “Thank you, Mr. Addam. I confess individual events are beginning to become a bit of a blur.” She collects her thoughts and continues. “I would have dearly liked the opportunity to view some of the local antiquities there, but the Ellipse is a race, after all, and it does not behoove one to tarry overmuch. The journey between Alexandria and Bahrain was truly fascinating, especially watching Egypt unfold along the banks of the Nile and the Red Sea. I do adore shipboard travel, so I quite enjoyed the voyage across to India, and the sights of India were quite fascinating as well. So many languages and colours and costumes, I have been quite dazzled! I must confess, though, that it is very good to spend an evening in a place that is not moving, and present company is a most delightful reason to have stopped.”

“Hear, hear,” Shirley agrees. “Now, I have no notion what I can possibly add to the doctor’s words that will not transform them into a penny-dreadful, so I had better just hold my peace, I think.”

Margaret smiles at him — a very warm, very open smile.

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.”

(This was part of the previous scene, following on Esperanza’s desired visit to the bazaar in disguise, but didn’t quite fit into the narration owing to loose continuity requirements in this particular game. It’s good enough to include on its own, though, so here you have it.)

“That is an excellent idea,” said Margaret, “and with your colouring it should not be difficult. Mr. Addam, will you help us to make her appear native?” Margaret looks almost as mischievous as Esperanza.

Shirley looks scandalized. “Me? I rather think not! Have a care, Margaret, for pity’s sake; her honor is your responsibility now.”

At that Margaret laughs outright. “I meant only that you should advise us, not that you should help her with dressing, of course! Really, that was a most absurd conclusion to jump to!”

Shirley flushes under his tan and stares at the ground. Caught. Indeed he ought not have assumed the worst; it looks odd, unsavoury. But Margaret has a free cast of thought — or she’d have nothing to do with him, rightly enough — and she knows just where to have him. More fool he for letting her. His flush deepens.

His discomfiture cannot but be droll; the look of surprised shame on his face, perhaps not so. Margaret sees the shift of emotions across his face, and sobers. She wants to apologize, but fears that if she acknowledges his embarrassment, she will only make matters worse.

He brings both hands to the bridge of his nose, willing the physical signs of his embarrassment to subside. “Yes, of course it was; I do apologize,” is all his response.

And that gives her an opening. “I am sorry, also. I did not mean to cause you distress, truly. We will manage.”

Esperanza looks a bit confused, as if she almost, but not quite, figured out the meaning behind the apparent impropriety. However, she holds her tongue and puts it down to her imperfect command of English.

“Ah, and while I am in an admonitory frame of mind,” Shirley adds, as the moment passes, “Miss Garcia, in future do not leap down from whatever transport we are in until one of us tells you it is safe to do so. The obvious places to reach us are the endpoints of our journeys — the train station, and Government House. If there had been trouble, we should likely have had to drive off in haste, and where would you have been then?”

Margaret sobers suddenly and completely. It is her change in manner that catches Esperanza’s full attention. “He is right, my dear. I know it is hard to keep always in mind, but this journey is most dangerous to us just when safety is in sight. Remember? That is why we must be your aunt and uncle when we travel.”

Esperanza nearly flinches at Shirley’s tone of voice, and both he and Margaret can see the light go out of her eyes at once. She looks down and folds her hands her lap. “I am terribly sorry, Mr. Addam, Señora Doctor,” and she does indeed sound most sincerely contrite. “I… let my excitement get ahead of me and did not think. I forget — forgot — my place; I shall wait for instructions in the future.” She falls silent, and her head remains down, looking at her entwined fingers.

Margaret gives Shirley a quick glare; such a harsh tone was not necessary with a child so eager to please. Shirley knows his own shame and irritation caused a greater harshness than he meant. Still, he cannot quite regret it. As precocious as Esperanza is, she is sixteen, and she comes from a safe, protective family. A kinder warning might not have broken through her youthful self-confidence. If casting him as the villain of the piece will keep Esperanza safe, so be it.

Margaret hastens to reassure Esperanza. “No, dear heart, it is not that. I am not at all concerned with ‘place.’ Frankly, I think it’s a lot of nonsense most of the time. It is that we are concerned for your safety. It would suit those who wish to harm us very well, to hurt you in order to force us to stop. You did not make us angry. We were frightened of what might have happened to you. We were lucky; it was all right this time, and it was good to see you so happy. But please, you must indeed more careful in the future.” Somewhere in the middle of that she has gotten up and gone over to Esperanza, putting an arm around the girl’s shoulders. Now she gives her a gentle hug. “Do you understand? And do you have questions?”

Shirley leaves his chair to kneel on one knee before the Spanish girl. So arranged, he cannot seem terribly threatening. “Escuchame, Esperanza,” he says, the faults of his accent in no way hiding the mildness in his low voice. “Lo que dije fue demasiado brusco, y esto siento; pero como dice la señora doctor, todo es para mantenernos — nosotros todos — en salvo. No quiero que nada en el mundo prevenga lo que tú y la señora doctor esperen. Por eso dije lo que dije. Solo por eso, me oyes?”

Esperanza nods, and apologizes again, in Spanish this time. Switching to English, she says “I understand, but it has been such a grand adventure — so much to see and do — that I feel as if I haven’t a moment to spare. I shall try very hard to be more careful.”

Shirley is considerably relieved when the door of Government House shuts behind him — even just being inside the gates feels unsafe.

A well-dressed, rail-thin receptionist asks if he may be of assistance. Margaret, still feeling a little edgy, pulls out a Grand Ellipse token (it happens to be the one from Gibraltar) and shows it to the receptionist, saying, “We would like to see the representative for the race, please.” She is assuming that the receptionist will recognize the token.

The receptionist’s entire manner changes, official stiffness giving way to almost overwhelmingly helpful enthusiasm. He smiles broadly and says, “Ah, another Ellipsoid! I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. Jason Straw at your service, Madame, Sir, Miss.” He nods respectfully and extends a hand to Shirley. “His Honour has just stepped out for a moment; I expect him back at any time. If you’ll kindly follow me to drawing room? And is there anything I can bring you while you wait?”

Margaret smiles and holds out her hand. “I’m delighted to meet you, Mr. Straw. We should be fine here until His Honour is free. If you could just ask someone to bring us some tea, we should be in your debt. We left our trunks in the care of the stationmaster, but we can send a messenger to have them delivered once we know where to send them, if you think they will be safe there for a time.”

Straw shakes Margaret’s hand rather more enthusiastically than she is used to from gentlemen. He is obviously most anxious to please, and very excited to meet the Ellipsoids. “Ever so pleased to meet you, ma’am — quite an honour, if I may say so. I shall have the tea things sent up at once, Doctor! His Honour would be most pleased if you would join him and Mrs. Collins for supper tonight, and you are welcome to stay the night at his house. And, of course, if there is anything that I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask. ”

“We would be delighted to accept both invitations,” Margaret answers.

“His Honour and Mrs. Collins shall be likewise delighted, I’m sure. I shall be sure to send your trunks on to His Honour’s house, in that case.”

“Thank you. I believe they are under the name of ‘Hampstead.’ We did not wish to advertise our presence in public.

“Ah, here we are.” Straw opens the door to a middling-sized room, comfortably and tastefully furnished in classic colonial style. A large picture window overlooks a garden riotous with colour. A lone, ancient gardener is weeding a riotous patch of orange and red poppies at the far end of the clearing. Several shallow glass cases on the wall displays pressed flowers; obviously, someone is an enthusiastic gardener.

Margaret takes a brief look in the cases, but she, too, is grateful to have arrived safely, and glad to relax. She takes a chair near Shirley, sneaking a quick glance to see how he’s doing; he seems quite all right. She looks over to Esperanza. “My dear? You are a wonder! How long does it take you to learn a new language? I am accounted quick at languages by most, but I am nowhere near ready to converse in this land.”

Shirley, too, smiles at Esperanza and says, “Warn me beforehand next time you plan to do something brilliant, will you please? If I had laughed the way I wanted to, we should have had the entire station staring at us!”

Margaret laughs in turn. “Yes, well, I was hard put to avoid doing an excellent imitation of a landed fish, mouth agape!”

Esperanza cocks her head to one side; it isn’t something she has ever thought about. “A few days to a week, I would guess it takes me. I do not know for certain. The more I hear, the easier it is, and I heard plenty of Marathi, Hindostani, and Urdu on the train. I think I was even hearing Urdu in my dreams! My Arabic is ever so much better since Alexandria and Bahrain, but we weren’t in Malta long enough for me to learn much– although Italian is so much like Spanish that I can understand it; I do not think I could speak it fluently, though.” Esperanza looks rather confused. “Señora Doctor learns languages also…”

Shirley is suitably impressed, and looks it. He is no slouch with languages himself, despite his limited opportunity to learn them, but a week’s exposure? Phenomenal. “As do I, when opportunity presents itself — but not in a week!” He reaches into his everpresent valise, rummages around a moment, and comes up with Lord Percy’s gift, the Arabic grammar, which he slides across an end-table to Esperanza. “A gift for your valour, Miss Garcia; you will doubtless make better use of it than I. Do you happen to speak any Russian?”

“Thank you, Mr. Addam!” She pounces on the book and flips through it briefly. “I haven’t heard any Russian, but I expect that it won’t take very long once we arrive in Vladivostok. Until we left Gibraltar, I had only heard French, English, and Arabic for any length of time. And French is enough like Spanish that it wasn’t difficult, although the sounds were odd to me, at first–and the spelling!” She shakes her head slightly, wondering why on earth the French need so many letters in each word, when they don’t even bother to pronounce all of them. Shirley and Margaret both note that although her voice still has a bit of an accent, her English is much improved.

A maid chooses this moment to arrive with an overloaded tea cart. “Mr. Straw said that you had been travelling all day, so I took the liberty of adding a few sandwiches and cakes.” She looks a bit apprehensive; she’s well aware that it verges on a sort of high tea — rather declassé for important guests — but Mr. Straw was most emphatic that the Ellipsoids were to be fed.

“How very thoughtful,” Shirley says. “Most appreciated, I assure you.”

Margaret’s smile is so open that the maid can’t keep worrying. “That was very thoughtful of you. I don’t know about Mr. Addam, but Esperanza and I quite ready to do these justice. Just put the cart over there” she points to a small table near the chairs “and I can pour.”

The maid is visibly relieved as she carefully wheels the tea cart over. “Mr. Straw asked me to tell you that a footman has been sent to move your luggage, and that His Honour has gone to the library. Mr. Straw has gone to fetch him back, and expects to return within the hour. In the mean time, if you should need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ring.”

“The latest _Times_, either of London or India, would be appreciated, but there is no hurry,” Shirley says, resigning himself to an inevitable delay in asking for news.

“I think that His Honour has this morning’s edition in his office. I shall see if I can find it.”

Margaret exchanges a glance with Shirley once the maid has gone. Obviously, Esperanza is a linguistic prodigy. Equally obviously, she has no idea of it. “Well then, dear heart, we shall have to give you the opportunity to learn more languages, since you seem to enjoy it so much.” She is smiling. “I was planning to ask you if you needed any more paints or pencils; I think I shall take you to visit a bookseller as well. Would you enjoy that? I was planning to see if there were any books to assist me in learning Japanese. Shall we make it a joint project?” If Margaret were Esperanza’s age, she’d be bouncing on her chair; at it is, her enthusiasm is probably making Shirley laugh.

“Perhaps you would find me a Russian grammar while you are there,” Shirley says. The first overwhelming relief past, his mind is inevitably turning back to the Addison situation, but he is content to keep his worries and surmises to himself and indulge Margaret and Esperanza’s pleasure. “I daresay it will take the two of us and at least two languages to keep that mind of yours busy, Miss Garcia.”

Esperanza looks a bit puzzled. “As for teaching… I am happy to try, but I do not know if I can teach you to learn by listening. I’m not sure exactly how to explain it–if I listen long enough, I can hear the patterns of the language. The only language I ever learned in a schoolroom sort of way was when I learned to read and write Spanish.” She pauses for a moment. “If I may ask, how long does it take you to learn a language, Mr. Addam, Senora Doctor? And how do you learn?”

Shirley shrugs. “All law students learn passable Latin in their first year. I learned spoken French from a Quebecois client of mine, and filled in the rest with grammars. His case dragged through a few appeals, lasting some months. I studied Spanish from a book on the way from England; I have the grammar nearly under control, I think, but my vocabulary is quite limited and I daresay my accent is an abomination. I’ve no idea what that tells you.”

Esperanza ponders this for a moment. “I am happy to help you practice as much as you wish… I am sure that you will learn it in no time! Spanish is very easy, I think, especially if you know some French already. The patterns are similar, even if the sounds and spelling are not.”

“It takes me a week or two to learn enough to function, but I have to be able to focus on one particular language, and to know what I am hearing. If only Urdu were spoken on the train, I would be beginning to understand, but there were many languages, and I could not sort them out to learn any of them. That is why you can teach me. If you speak to me slowly in one particular language, and let me repeat it until my mouth knows the feel of the sounds, I will learn it quickly. You can learn by listening. I must listen, and have explanations, and practice. I enjoy it tremendously, but I still must work at it.”

“I would be happy to start learning Japanese and Russian. Ought I start studying Chinese as well, for Hong Kong?”

“Indefatigable girl. Yes, go ahead; we shall see if even picture-writing can slow you down.”

“If it can be done from books, by all means! I am afraid I can be no help to you there. But we will look for books to get started. By the bye, Esperanza, if you ever find anything you want to learn about, please do let me know. If I am unable to teach you, I will find you books or someone who is familiar with the matter. It is such a delight to have a companion who wants to learn new things — I will help you any way I can.” It is utterly obvious that this offer is made out of the delight of sharing with a kindred spirit, and not just because she accepted an obligation to Esperanza.

“Of course, I am happy to learn languages to help you on the Grand Ellipse! I don’t think I could *not* learn them; sometimes it seems as though they slip into my head without my notice.” Esperanza beams. “And I should like to visit the bazaar — there is so much to see! And I would like to buy extra paint and pencils for the trip across Russia; the Colonel told me that Siberia is quite desolate, and that I should bring everything I might need with me. Perhaps another sketchbook or two as well; the one I brought from home is nearly full.”

Margaret grins in pure delight. “You shall have them, and some pastels as well, I think — I am not sure how well watercolours will work in the cold of Siberia.” She makes a mental note to write her parents a letter telling them about Esperanza, and asking that they take guardianship of her and give the girl all the education and opportunity she can absorb in the event that anything untoward should befall herself. She will do it that evening, and give it to His Honour to post with his household’s business.

Esperanza pulls her sketchbook out and hands it over to Margaret; it is full of neatly labeled landscapes and seascapes from their travels, street scenes, plants, animals, a few seashells, people, and even a few sketches of Shirley and Margaret. Esperanza has done small watercolour studies in the sketchbook as well, and her finished, loose watercolours are carefully organized in the back of the sketchbook. There are only a few blank pages left in the back of the book. The drawings are creditably well done, and improve noticeably through the book.

“Bah! who is that lanky lout?” Shirley murmurs with a sniff of disdain on seeing one of him. “Mi hija, no debes mostrar éstas a todo el mundo, para no — er, hacer daño a la honra de la señora doctor.” His accent is, as promised, wretchedly English, but his grammar is quite precise and correct.

“Esperanza, these are very nice,” Margaret remarks. “Have you had any formal drawing lessons?”

“My Tia–Aunt–Elena used to teach drawing at a girls’ school, and after my mother died, she let me sit in the room while she taught, so that she could watch me. She would give me bits of paper and small pencils or pastels; just things that were left over from the students. But I never really studied, I only practiced whenever I had the chance.”

“And listened to what your Tia was telling her students, I’ve no doubt. I don’t have your talent, but I do have some formal training; would you like me to work with you until we get back to England? We shall get you a better teacher there.”

“That would be wonderful!” Esperanza bites her lower lip, then blurts out, “I would very much like to go to art school, in England, after the Grand Ellipse — the one that your princess went to.”

“Then you shall; if something should happen to me, I have made sure my family will see to it. In the meantime, though, there is a whole world out there. I have some small volumes of poetry in my trunks; I’m sure you’ve seen them. I think we should read those together. Hmm; I shall have to see if the bookseller has anything by Cervantes, as well.”

“I do know how to read, but mostly in Spanish, and only a little French besides… I haven’t done it much.”

“Like anything, it becomes easier with practice, and I think you will enjoy it very much. There is nothing like a book to keep you company when you are alone. Let us see, you already know plain sewing, but I think you shall learn fancywork, as well. It will help you to learn design.” Suddenly Margaret stops and blinks. “Listen to me go on! But I do think you will enjoy those things, my dear. Would you like to try it?”

Esperanza nods, her head swimming with possibilities.

Margaret looks at the girl’s clothing. “I think I shall buy you some new travelling clothes, as well. You seem to be growing, my dear. We will choose things which are a little long, and I shall put tucks in them so we can let them out when we need to. This is a good place to find cottons and silks, and certain types of furniture as well, and my family’s firm can ship it for us. You shall have your own room in my home when we return to England; if you see things you would like to furnish it, we shall buy them and have them shipped back.”

Esperanza’s eyes go wide; she is beginning to have an inkling of what her life in England will be like after the Grand Ellipse, a subject to which she had not given much thought. She has always shared a room with Tia Elena; the idea of a room to herself is almost beyond belief; furnishing it at the Madras bazaar is pure fantasy.

“But you must do the bargaining, my dear. It will cost twice as much for me, speaking English, as you will be able to get speaking the native language. I shall be getting things for myself, as well, and anything I do not spend paying the European penalty shall be your reward, to spend on yourself as you like.”

“I should dress up like a local girl, as well — they’ll never know; there are so many languages here that nobody could possibly speak them all.” Esperanza is once again enthused; the chance to be helpful in addition to putting one over someone, with adult encouragement no less, is irresistible.

“Margaret,” Shirley says softly, loath to break the pleasant connection between the doctor and her ward, “you might ask your family’s man to wire home to have a trust set up for her. I would gladly fulfill your promises to her — in extremis — if I could, but I am not a wealthy man.”

The look Margaret gives Shirley is very warm. “Thank you for the thought, my dear. If I am not by and you are there, I would appreciate if you would make certain Esperanza is not lonely, nor too rigidly constrained. As well try to bind a nightingale! But do not worry about the financial aspect; it will be taken care of readily. I will compose a telegram to my brother tonight, and send it tomorrow. I believe I shall instruct him, not only to set up a trust for her, but to make her my ward and heir ‘de jure’ as well as ‘de facto’.” Then she laughs softly. “Would you believe, I engaged her originally simply as a lady’s maid and companion? So many things have happened, that I never thought of.” Obviously, she is not speaking only of Esperanza.

Esperanza is once again wearing her mischievous look. “And such a disappointing lady’s maid I have turned out to be.” She gives a melodramatic sigh, then giggles.

Margaret turns back to her. “I am sorry, my dear; I did not mean to talk about you as if you were not here. But that is, indeed, what I have been planning. Do you approve? If you do not like it, I shall find another way to keep my promises to you.”

Esperanza’s eyes go wide. “I believe my head is spinning… Señora Doctor, you have been so kind to me, I… I think that you know far better than I what would be best. I only know that I should very much like to go to England to study, after the Grand Ellipse.”

A sandwich and a cup of tea later, Shirley asks, “Doctor? Were you not planning to send a messenger to your family’s business associate? Now is as reasonable a time as any.”

“That is an excellent thought; thank you, Shirley.” She removes a note she has written while killing time on the train, adds a few words to the effect that they are now at Government House and would like to see the gentleman and rings for the maid. When she arrives, Margaret will give her the note, asking that a messenger be sent to the individual and giving the address. She also asks that the messenger wait for a response. A footman arrives to take the note for Margaret, and suggests that she have the reply sent to His Honour’s house, as Mr. Straw and His Honour are expected back at any moment. “Yes, do that please, and thank you for the suggestion.”

Margaret, Esperanza, and a jumpy Shirley arrive at Madras train station without incident.

Margaret whispers quickly to Esperanza “remember; we are Uncle Gus and Tante Belle, and you are my niece Maria.”

The train station is very crowded with all kinds of people. There are a few police on duty, but they are mostly just observing, as the crowd, while rowdy, does not appear to be violent–just in a hurry. The noise level is quite high, with people shouting in a dozen languages. Esperanza murmurs that she never imagined so many people could fit in one train station.

There are also several vendors around the perimeter of the station, some of the wares-spread-out-on-a-blanket variety, others selling a wide variety of food. Along with the normal smells that the trio has learnt to associate with rail travel, there are all kinds of utterly unfamiliar, but tantalizing, food smells.

Local transport options include hired carriages, a rickshaw-like contraption, carts and wagons drawn by oxen or donkeys, the occasional bicycle, and the universally popular feet. Porters are also available for hire.

All in all, it appears to be a normal train station, albeit a very busy one.

“Right,” Shirley says, under the shrieking of the brakes. “Our goals are to retrieve our baggage, hop in a couple of carriages, and off to Government House as quietly as possible. We will use porters *only* to take our bags to a carriage, so as to avoid mention of Government House — the extra expense is regrettable but necessary. If we can — I am not familiar with Madras — we should give an initial destination near to Government House, and tell the drivers differently later.”

“I think, if we can fit, we would do best to take one carriage,” says Margaret. “As Englishmen coming to take up new post in Madras, our trunks would be completely unexceptional, but money for two carriages most unusual.”

“I agree, but we are rather encumbered. If we should have to take two, I believe Maria should be odd person out.” Left unsaid — Shirley and Margaret are targets; Esperanza is not.

“I have another idea” Margaret says. She is most uncomfortable with the thought of Esperanza potentially on her own here. “It would not be unusual, either. We can check some of our trunks with the stationmaster if they won’t all fit on the carriage, to be delivered later. That is quite common.” She takes his arm with one hand, and picks up her basket with the other…the picture of the young domestic matron. She grins; in spite of the potential seriousness of the situation, she’s having fun with the act. “Well, my dear? Shall we go report to your new commander?”

Esperanza stops abruptly, with a look of sudden remembrance on her face. She enthusiastically fishes around in the small carrying bag that has rarely been out of her possession since leaving Gibraltar. She pulls out a sheaf of slightly crumpled papers. “Uncle Gus? Before we leave, Papa gave me a few maps, his extra copies–Glasgow, Hong Kong, and Madras.” She plucks the map of Madras out of the roll and hands it to Shirley. It is a British Army map of Madras, dated 1880. It is far more likely that the Colonel, rather than her father, gave her the maps, but she is very conscious of the need for discretion.

“Maria, you are a treasure. Bless you.” “Maria” beams, happy to have gotten Shirley’s praise at last, rather than being dismissed like an annoying chaperone or some sort of child. The main courthouse is across the street from Government House, and the records office is ’round the corner. “Hm,” Shirley says, scrutinizing the map. “The courthouse, I think, unless anyone has any objections. Belle? Maria?”

Margaret shrugs. “Neither is likely for a relocating family… but the Courthouse is likelier than the records office. It will do.”

Esperanza shrugs also, with eloquent indifference; in the course of the trip across the subcontinent, she has developed a deep fascination with all things Indian, and is obviously interested in trying to figure out how to get “Tante Belle” to the bazaar later on. Not to mention that the food smells heavenly, and although polite young ladies aren’t supposed to have much of an appetite — especially for spicy foods — she most certainly does. Margaret notices the wistful look. “Don’t worry” she tells Esperanza aside. “Once we have signed in at Government House, we will try to arrange a trip to the bazaar. It does smell heavenly, doesn’t it? And I want to get some silks, even if I have to ship them home. My family has a man of business here; perhaps we can get him to take us around while Uncle Gus is busy.” And she give the girl a thoroughly conspiratorial wink.

The porters all appear to be very busy, and after much fruitless hand-waving, “Maria” gets impatient and calls out in one of the local languages, in a manner as ladylike as possible, considering the volume. This attracts sufficient porters, with whom she bargains in a very animated fashion. The smaller bags go into the carriage, and the trunks begin their journey. She turns around to her putative aunt and uncle and says, disingenously, “To the courthouse?”

Margaret is doing her best not to look completely stunned. This is her “niece”; she should know what the girl is capable of. “Yes, and thank you, dear! You are full of surprises still, aren’t you?”

Uncle Gus suppresses a shout of laughter. “After you, my dear niece,” he says, motioning toward the carriage-stand. Everyone piles into the carriage, which takes off at a brisk pace in the direction of the courthouse. The sights, sounds, and smells are mesmerizing, and Maria delights in pointing out an elephant making its way down a crowded cross-street.

The courthouse and Government house are impressive sandstone monuments, with classical European lines that seem out of place with the Oriental air of the city. The carriage pulls up to the very steps of the courthouse, and Maria happily bounds down to the hot pavement.

“Slowly, Miss Impetuosity,” says Uncle Gus, with a smile just the least bit brittle. This is, after all, the most dangerous place in Madras for them just now. The street is less crowded than the train station, and there is a larger percentage of Anglos in the crowd. However, nobody seems to take any particular notice of
the new arrivals. The crowd appears to be almost entirely focused on its own business. Nobody is scanning the crowd, except for the guards at Government House and the courthouse, and Margaret does not hear anything amiss.

“We had better sort out our cover story before we have to use it,” Shirley says, the day before their ship is to land on the Indian coast. “I daresay you will make me a lovely wife,” he adds with a schoolboy wink at Margaret. “And I should be proud to have Miss Garcia as a niece. Margaret, I think your sister married a rich Spaniard, though I hope we will not need to explain that.”

He picks up the railway timetable and leafs through it a moment. “My mother’s maiden name was Hampstead; it should do as well as anything. And my father’s given name was Augustus, which is awful but will do.”

Margaret bursts out laughing. “Well,” she says, “we could always take a leaf from the Scarlet Pimpernel and call you Percy!”

“You had better not!” he barks in mock dudgeon.

“Archibald, then?”

#8220;Hmph. Better stay with Gus.”

“But as to names; my middle name is Annabel, so ‘Belle’ will do nicely for me.”

“Most fitting,” says Shirley gallantly.

“Thank you, kind sir. Esperanza, you are fortunate; since the opposition does not know your name, you needn’t remember to answer to a different one! You may choose one for fun though, if you like. Just remember to refer to us as Aunt and Uncle.”

“Careful,” Shirley warns. “Her name was in the Times. ‘Hope’ is too obvious; I suggest ‘Faith.’”

Margaret looks chagrined. “I had forgotten the Times. But ‘Faith’ is far too English. Esperanza, do you have a name you fancy? Or would ‘Carmela’ or ‘Teresa’ suit you?” They settle on “Maria.”

Margaret has obtained a suitable rattan case with a secure latch, and busies herself transferring the contents of her medical bag into it. “You know,” she tells Shirley, “this is more practical anyway. It is much lighter than my black bag, if less durable in the long run. And it is certainly less obvious! If anyone even notices it, I shall look like a seamstress.”

One of Shirley’s first acts on reaching India is to purchase the back issues of the Times for perusal on the train to Madras. He rigidly refuses to read any of them until the three of them are in a screened train compartment by themselves. Then he devours them like Brixby a burnt pudding, chuckling and muttering ominously by turns.

“Well, if we had convinced Brixby it would have done no good,” he remarks at one juncture. “I daresay Percy’d got past Rangoon by then.”

Margaret looks over his shoulder and frowns a little. “I suspect he will have passed Osaka by the time we reach Madras, as well. I daresay the Steppe will slow him down, though, and perhaps we can come up with some other means to slow him down. I don’t particularly care if I win, but I will be rolled in flour and fried before I see that arrogant idiot crowing about London without at least some attempt to prevent it!”

Shirley lifts his thermos-jug of water in silent assent to this. He shows Margaret the story about the Egyptian suspects in the Alexandria rail bombing without comment.

She reads it and nods. “You were right; it was not aimed at us.”

Later, he shakes his head in distaste over the investigation of Wilcox. “Judgeship opening up,” he says, sounding wholly unsurprised. “Shame it had to be this way. It does keep Finnegan in custody longer, which must make the Yard happy.”

“It sounds as if you’ve had some encounters with the Judge.”

“Mmm. One does not like to cast aspersions, you understand, and my clients are generally too poor to attract—or afford—such attentions. But one does hear stories.”

“Percy may find himself in the proverbial soup yet; the Yard’s in on this, and even the Times tried to ask Carter what was what. Bribing a judge is not a light matter; the Yard could arrest Percy anywhere for that. If Percy’s smart he’ll put the whole thing on Carter. That will lose him the Davies case, though; no one else who could win it will touch it, or him, for any money. Tainted. Especially since Carter will turn on him in return.”

“It couldn’t happen to a nicer individual,” says Margaret ironically, when she has read the article. “I confess that I would not be heartbroken to see Lord Percy humbled somewhat.”

“I should not break my heart to see him cast into the Channel with a cannonball chained to his feet, myself. Which could happen, if he’s fingered in the Wilcox business. The Yard will grab him as soon as he walks onto British Embassy soil.”

“One may always hope!”

“Confound it, the Times will be after me again in Madras. I shall have to think of a statement I can give without contradicting the Yard or making myself out the village idiot.”

“Well, you can always simply say that you are sure the Yard has matters well in hand. The real problem I see is that if the reporter is alert, he will see us arrive incognito, and report it. That will eliminate any benefit of the ruse.”

“I doubt it—the reporting, at any rate. I rather suspect the Yard is leaning somewhat on the Times; I enter as evidence this load of poppycock regarding Lady Davies. Oliver Harris is smarter than that; he must be helping the Yard conceal what little it does know of the Causes of Things. And you notice the article about Madras does not even hint that we might be travelling together, though I can hardly doubt Wesley Michaels knows.”

When he has read and reread the entire stack, he sighs. “Not a word about Addison,” he says. “Not one word. Our competitors have almost all got through Madras all right, for which I thank heaven. But I wish the Yard had him; I truly do.”

“So do I.” She is thinking, but does not say, that Addison may be lying in wait for them in particular, or be travelling disguised and has managed to slip past the Yard’s detectives. Neither possibility is comforting. Or he may be at Rangoon, or even somewhere later. There still isn’t enough information, damn it! She is sure Shirley has thought of the options, and sees no reason to further frighten Esperanza. The slight weight of the pistol in its pocket is both reassuring and terrifying in its implications.

Shirley is thinking about his will, and about how Margaret can keep his secret if he dies… he has quite resigned himself to being a dead man walking… Margaret notices that Shirley has become introspective. She touches his hand lightly, but says nothing. She is only reminding him that she is there, and that he matters to her. She knows she finds his presence a comfort, as much for what she need not say as for what she can, and only hopes she can give him the same gift. After a moment, awareness comes back into his eyes. He inhales deeply, as much to remind himself he is indeed still breathing as anything else, and returns Margaret’s caress furtively, out of sight of Esperanza.

On the train to Madras one afternoon, Margaret touches Shirley’s arm to get his attention.

“Hmm?”

“When we reach Madras, I’d like to check one extra possible source of information. My family has a Man of Business there. If my brother has heard anything he thinks I should know about, that is where he will send word. I thought to send a messenger and ask if he might have an opportunity to come see me.”

“By all means. Pity we didn’t telegraph him from the coast.”

“I didn’t think of it. On the other hand, we can probably do so from our next stop. I’ll put together a note that we are coming, and that he should expect a messenger asking him to come to me—we don’t know exactly where we will be able to arrange a meeting yet, and it hardly seems prudent to go out about Madras under the circumstances. More’s the pity; I really wanted to pick up some silks while we were here. You know, this cloak-and-dagger business is a bother.” Then she said, more quietly, “My family doesn’t know about you, of course, and probably best to keep it that way. Arthur would tell our mother, and she’s a terrible gossip.”

“Well, as yet there is hardly a great deal to gossip about, nor can we expect to remain out of the Times forever—but I see no reason you should call attention to me, worthless young pup that I am.” His eyes are twinkling.

“Hmph. Let the Times spread the word, then. I thought the purpose of these personae was to prevent people from figuring out that we were travelling in company?” And then, muttering, with a slight, twinkling smile of her own, “and there are no ‘worthless pups’ in this compartment that I am aware of!”

Shirley puts out a hand to hold Margaret back when she would follow. They are quite alone, the sailors having smelt the same inviting odours as Shirley. “What a carnival freak I am making of myself, to be sure,” he says to her, warm with frank esteem and wry with regret. “If I were any sort of man, Margaret, I should be hopelessly enamoured of you, and if I were any sort of woman, I should call you my beloved sister forever. Yet here I am, neither the one nor the other; and how I am to proceed, caring for you as I do, I have not the faintest idea.”

Margaret’s answering laugh is rather shaky. “Well, then, we are in rather a like predicament, although surely you are no freak—no, I won’t hear you call yourself names! If you were as you present yourself to the world, I should be telling you frankly that your suit would not be rebuffed, and if you were outwardly a woman, I should have offered a sister’s embrace long since. I suspect you have shown more of your heart in these past days than you have since your brother died.”

He nods, looking downward almost guiltily.

“I am honoured and touched and humbled by your faith in me, and to speak quite frankly, I care very much for you as well.” She looks down, lips pressed together a little, for once at a loss as to how to proceed. She has lived a life entirely of the mind for so long, she would have no idea what to do if the situation were not complicated by the facts. As it is…!

Finally she looks up. “Man or woman, you have a sister if you want one,” she says simply. “It is yourself for which I care; the outward seeming does not matter to me.”

“Truthfully, I don’t quite know if I can have what I want,” he says, face clouded. “No other eyes in the world see as yours do.”

He turns away from her with an effort, and steps to the rail to look over, letting his words fall into the choppy sea below. “I want to stay with you, always, the way we are now—I love you, Margaret! there, I have said it—but I cannot for the life of me see how.

“The wildest schemes, the most bizarre fancies, pass through my head—and at the back of it all, the knowledge that I must not plan, dare not even hope, because a movement of Addison’s finger on a trigger may cost me my secret as well as my life. The latter I can lose, I hope, without too much repining—but I cannot see you made a laughingstock because of me; you must be able to deny you knew, much less that you were close to me.

“I don’t know. I find myself in a perfectly horrid state of perplexity.” He turns back toward her, though he comes no closer. The setting sun lights the candid, forthright brown eyes under the worried forehead. “I only know how very devoted I am to you, Margaret dear, and how I should despair if we should have to separate.”

She listens to him without a single interruption, mostly because she can’t find her voice for a minute or so. When he is done, she takes a step closer to him, reaching out to touch his arm lightly. Her voice is almost inaudible. “I scarcely know what to say,” she tells him “but that I love you, as well. Yourself, whether that is Shirley, or Elizabeth, or Rumplestiltskin. It is a conundrum, isn’t it?” The hard part over, her voice strengthens. “You need not fear that we will separate by any decision of mine, though! I thought I had made that perfectly clear.”

A laugh catches on a sob in Shirley’s throat. “Rather.”

“As for the rest… I am very glad to know that I am not alone in trying to find a reason to remain together once the immediate need is past; I should have thought that was clear by the enthusiasm with which I took up your proposal of a joint medical and legal clinic.” Her grin is obviously self-directed. “Otherwise I should feel very much the fool.”

“No need for that. My department.”

“You do not have a monopoly, then. I am not concerned with gossip, should you be unmasked. I have found that the best answer to it is a profound silence. If the victim does not respond, it becomes boring. It would be a nine-days’ wonder, and then something else would catch the public eye and I should fade out of it entirely.

“But my dear, I do not intend to permit you to be unmasked, neither in life nor—much as I do not want to think about it!—in death. That is not for my sake; it is for yours. You should be known for your accomplishments, and not merely as the woman who managed to fool the Bar in York for a decade. I can and will care for you myself if you are injured, and as to the worst… any physician can certify a death.”

Shirley draws her to the rail and puts his arm round her waist. His voice is shaking. “That is a greater relief than I can explain to you, Margaret. Thank you. It is not just you and I—there is Lady Hester, too. And they would exhume my poor brother, I don’t doubt, and—” The words trail off.

Her voice is none too steady either. “But I should miss you every day for the rest of my life. That is the only separation I truly fear. I am quite certain any other would be temporary, since it would be against both your will and mine. Only please,” with a flash of sharpness “now that you know precisely my feelings on the matter, do not try to send me away for my own good again!”

He tightens his arm. “I know, I know. I will be good, as long as you try to understand what it costs me.” The last phrase comes out in a voiceless gasp; Shirley is very near to tears, for only the second time in ten long years.

Margaret cannot put her arm around him in turn—his clasp is too tight—but she leans her head into his shoulder for a moment. She takes a deep breath, but her voice, though quiet, is quite steady. “But I do understand. The price is fear, of a kind you have never known as an adult… fear for another far greater than any fear for yourself, all the worse because it seems so totally beyond your control. You can walk into the lion’s den with your eyes open, but to watch someone you love do so is quite another thing. I think the only thing worse would be to go back to being entirely alone… but I may be speaking only for myself there.”

“You know better.” He loosens his hold then, speaks clinically and dryly. “There is a matter of responsibility also; but we have fought on this point before, and I should not like to do so again. Of course you understand, since you have Esperanza to consider.”

Her tone is acerbic in its turn. “I believe I understood the concept before Esperanza joined me. You should know, I have not told Esperanza you are anything but what you seem. I trust her absolutely, but that is too great a confidence to expect a girl of 16 to carry. My secrets I will share with her, but not yours.”

She feels his shrug through his arm. “I expected nothing less of you. If we get past Addison, I’ll tell her myself.”

“No, don’t. There is no need, and at this point in her life it will only confuse her. How can I be so easy with you when your outward appearance is so at odds with the facts? She has not yet learned to treasure the spirit regardless of its housing. Someday we may tell her, but not till she has a little more experience of people.”

“You know best.” A silent laugh stirs him. “Look what you have done to me, Margaret. Because I trust you, I want to trust the entire world. I do know better.”

She faces him squarely, not half a pace away. “Addison may want you, but he shall not have you. As you so rightly pointed out, Scotland Yard is watching your back. And you have an advantage Addison knows nothing about. One set of eyes cannot watch everywhere, but we have three, and we are all alert and aware, and now I have all the more reason to be careful. I will not lose you, when I have only just found you!”

“Oh, my dear. My very dear.” He dares not embrace her—a sailor or Esperanza could appear at any moment—but she can see his self-control under strain.

She does not quite dare either—although she is less concerned about being seen than whether Shirley would be appalled at himself in retrospect—but she can, and does, take both his hands very firmly in hers. Shirley hadn’t known a handclasp could convey quite so much pure affection. And then she laughs a little, more as a release of tension than in true humour. “I doubt your fancies are any stranger than mine! I have, among other things, been trying to figure out how to reconstruct adjoining townhouses so that they connected in a way that was unexceptional, but would give you access to my parlour.”

He cannot manage a laugh, but he does smile. “We will find a better way than that. Somehow.”

“Well, we shall certainly have time to think about it. But I think we had better go down to dinner, before the sailors start placing wagers on our behaviour.”

Shirley rubs his face vigourously with both hands. ““Right. I ought to go get into some decent clothes. Go and make excuses for the fop, will you please?”

“And Shirley? Thank you.”

“Me? For pity’s sake, Margaret! What have I done but—” But she is gone, so Shirley must needs choke back his amazement and go below himself.

Margaret is concerned by Shirley’s preoccupation. She had become accustomed, on the way to Bahrain, to the easy relaxed conversations they had shared on shipboard. Moreover, she has noticed that when he becomes silent, it is not a good sign so far as his emotional state is concerned. But she has taken his confidence by storm several times, and does not wish to do so again. So she finds a shady spot on deck near to the cabins, and settles with Esperanza. The clothing in the Bazaar of a size to suit Esperanza had been much too childish, so they are taking in and hemming the garments they found. It is still far faster than making them from raw yard goods. It is also a good thing she has the sewing to occupy her hands, though, as patience is not her strongest virtue. If Shirley is paying attention, he will find that she is humming—something from the latest offering by Gilbert & Sullivan.

Esperanza sees him flinch when he comes on deck finally and hears the tense hum. Nonetheless, he crosses the deck toward them. “May I join the sewing circle, or will I only be an obstacle?” he asks, his tone humble and apologetic. “I know how to hold a piece while someone else sews, and I can rip seams without leaving holes—Elizabeth taught me.” He smiles cautiously at Esperanza. “Pray do not tell anyone, but I can even trim hats.”

Margaret looks up at his approach. “I cannot imagine considering you an obstacle” she tells him. She isn’t quite smiling, but her face does not have the set, brittle look Shirley has seen, if only once. “In fact, you remind me of a young friend of my brother’s who visited us frequently. Father said of him, when he apologized for causing some extra work, that he couldn’t be a bother if he tried.” She pauses for a second, looking a bit sad. “He was terribly ill when he came to visit, but quite determined not to be an invalid for all that.” She sets a few stitches before she goes on, obviously thinking of the past. Michael had died a few months after that visit, and if she had only known then what she knows now…

“I am so very sorry,” Shirley murmurs. Perhaps this is why she has not married? For all the talk of puppies and fools, she must have had some sensible suitors—at least one. Surely one.

She sighs, then shakes herself a little and looks up. “You have the same tendency to self-deprecation, but not, thank G-d, the weak constitution. Now, if you could hold this out so I can be sure of basting the tucks evenly, I should be grateful. These gauzes are certainly more suitable to the climate than anything Esperanza and I brought with us, but they tend to stretch out unevenly. The weave is unstable.”

He folds his lean body a bit at a time into a sunny spot on the deck across from Margaret and her ward, resting his elbow casually on one drawn-up knee. “I apologize for defaulting on my word, Margaret,” he says. “Do you know, I once snubbed Lady Hester after a particularly odd court session—I was so absorbed I did not even recognize her when she passed. I’ve no idea why she forgave me.”

Margaret murmurs “I have”, but says no more than that.

He sighs. “Look, this is a worse mess even than I thought. Baxter did not say much; it is what he did not say that concerns me. He did not say they know where Addison is, or where he is going. He did not say they know where Addison gets his orders, or what those orders are. He did not say they learned anything from the Malta protesters. He did not say they understand the Damascus affair. What he did say is that they find the entire situation a confused frustration. That, from Scotland Yard!”

His voice has risen a bit too far; he takes a deep breath, and goes on in a more moderate tone. “What seems clear is that this has nothing to do with any silly wager. No wager could earn enough to offset the expense and trouble Addison has gone to. This must be serious, or Addison would have dropped it altogether and escaped to the States. What is more, there must be pressure of time to it, or Addison would simply go to ground and wait for his target in Glasgow.”

He shakes his head. “I tell you, Margaret, when I suggested some diplomatic angle to all this, I did so more than half in jest. Now, though, I am hard-pressed to find another explanation. One of the Ellipsoids, I must guess, is more than he—or she—seems. I rather suspect that Addison himself knows no more than you or I which one it is. He might well have shot poor Davies thinking him an Ellipsoid.”

He looks straight into the late-afternoon sun for a moment, then shuts his eyes tightly against it. “The one balm Gilead can offer is that we are only moderately likely to encounter him, I should think, though I can offer no assurance as to whatever henchmen he may have dispatched. The Yard is only hoping he’ll show himself in Madras or Rangoon. They’ve no more actual knowledge than we.

“And I—I cannot believe Addison takes much stock in revenge on his own account. Others’ revenges are his work, but revenge on his own account is bad for business. Nor can he think I am the dissembler, the way I have baited him in public. If he does come after me, it will be because he thinks me a danger to him—and why on earth would he think that?

“But,” he winds down at last, his voice sinking, “if I am wrong—well, I laughed with Edgar Middlebury while he witnessed my will, before I left York. I should not have. I hope the dissembler, whoever he may be, has the grace to feel gratitude. I have all but thrown myself onto a loaded gun in his stead.” Shirley gathers up a new section of the light cloth, coincidentally bending his head to catch a glimpse of her face.

Margaret sews quietly for a moment; it gives her someplace to rest her eyes so that she need not look at Shirley. He is worried enough; she does not want to add to it by letting him see how worried she is, although her concern is primarily for Shirley himself. “We do rather expect Scotland Yard to be omniscient where the criminal mind is concerned, don’t we?” she says at last. “And yet if they were, no crime would ever be committed, nor go unsolved. For all their training and resources, they are only men, after all, and they can only guess at the future. Presumably their guesses are better educated than ours, but they remain guesses for all that.

Shirley frowns. They ought to have been able to educate their guesses better than this. He does not think the Yard held anything much from him—Baxter’s annoyance at his own ignorance was genuine. It is no ordinary scheme, however, that keeps its plans and aims so rigidly segregated from its front-line men, like those in Malta. Margaret is right; it is pointless to speculate on the tiny drips of sure knowledge they have. That they have so little, so very little—that unnerves Shirley.

“I am inclined to think that you are right, that there may be more to this than a simple wager, but there need not be a dissembler among the Ellipsoids. Disrupting the event in ways that will embarrass her Majesty’s government by its inability to protect its citizens, and perhaps make Englishmen more cautious about travelling abroad, may also serve someone’s purpose. I don’t know; I keep coming back to Princess Ella’s presence at the ceremonies in London. She is a princess of Hesse, which is one of the German states, and betrothed to a Grand Duke of Russia. I confess I do not see how it fits together; I can only conclude we are trying to reason from too little information…and that Scotland Yard is in the same straits in that regard.”

“All my career, I have fought using knowledge as my weapon,” the barrister sighs bleakly. “When I have not had sufficient knowledge, I have at least known where to go to get it. Now I am a pawn on a blindfolded chessboard. Less than a pawn; I know not the rules of the game, even. My clients, poor ignorant souls—I understand now how they must feel in court.”

Margaret quirks an eyebrow, and nods. “If knowledge is power, then ignorance is surely helplessness.” Shirley shuts his eyes. His face tightens and closes into such a wretched expression of vulnerability that even Esperanza remarks it.

Margaret gestures to Shirley to shift the section of skirt he is holding. “As to why Addison should think you a danger to him, I can of course only conjecture. But for all your tendency to deprecate your abilities, your acumen is formidable, and he has no way of knowing that you are not prepared to counter him physically as well. In addition, you have spoken out very publicly against him. If there is a diplomatic aspect, then it may be that Addison’s superiors are as much in the dark about details as Scotland Yard, and we are all bumbling about barking our shins on the furniture. Since the opposition does not know upon which Ellipsoid to focus their attention, they will work against any they can find.”

She pauses to tie off her thread, snip it, and rethread the needle, holding the last scrap of thread up for the wind to carry away and watching as it floats out over the water. Then she returns to the tucks she is putting in the skirt of Esperanza’s frock. “We will have no contact with Addison or his minions at all, if luck and forethought can arrange it. We are not going by the route he anticipates, nor do we look anything like we did at the beginning of this adventure, and we are taking pains to increase that difference. What are three more Europeans in a crowd? We are hiding needles in a haystack, as it were. I had even determined that I would purchase a sturdy wicker hamper in Panaji, and transfer the contents of my medical bag to it. I can then fold the medical bag into one of my trunks…or if I can’t, I shall simply abandon it and replace it in London. A female carrying a medical bag is noteworthy; one carrying a basket is not.”

She sticks her needle in the fabric, and reaches across to touch his hand. “We know the gun exists; we shall do our best to prevent it from firing in our vicinity. We have done all we can, and so, I believe, has Scotland Yard. And if their wits have not brought them the information as to what is planned, then we shall also apply ours to the problem. It may even be more successful. I have noticed before this that specialized training sometimes leads people to ignore things outside of it, rather like blinders on a carriage horse. Who knows? Our lack of training may actually be an advantage. In the meantime, let us enjoy this voyage.”

He turns up his hand to catch hers in his fingers. Lightly, gently, he brings it toward him, giving her every opportunity to pull back, watching her for any sign of alarm or distaste. There is none; only a brief, startled blink and a world of questions in her eyes. He touches his lips respectfully to her fingers, no more than a moment’s light caress, and lets go her hand. “Bless you and your courage,” he says. “Now tell me what you really think.”

She takes a moment to answer, and then it is simply to say “I have; I think we are doing everything we can do. If you are asking me if I am afraid, then the answer is yes, of course I am. Only a fool would not be, and I try not to be a fool.” But her voice is abstracted; clearly, her thoughts are elsewhere. She takes up her sewing again. She is, to say the least, confused. Eventually she sets down the skirt, and shakes out her hands for a moment. “I am curious, though. What is it that you were writing in your cabin, if the question is not too personal?”

“Hm? Oh, a letter to Lady Hester. Nothing that need go in a telegram.” He hitches himself forward and reaches for her hand again, this time only to hold it. His other hand he holds out to Esperanza. “See here, ladies,” he says, the mild cadence at curious odds with the abrupt words. “I can assure you that I am at least as frightened as either of you—I daresay more, as you, Miss Garcia, are of an age blessedly immune to fear. I, however, have made certain commitments that neither of you has; they will do as well as anything else to stiffen a weakening backbone.” He smiles wryly at Margaret, thinking about what has been said regarding corsets and women’s health.

“On balance, your presence grants me greater safety, while mine—on balance, as I said—puts you at greater risk. For that, and because I care very much for both of you and do not wish you to suffer fear or, Heaven forbid, harm, I tell you now that either or both of you may leave me any time you wish. I will think no less of you; it is a great gift to have travelled with you as far as I have.

“No, now do not make me any promises; I will not hear them. If you stay, you stay. If not, may your journeys be safe.”

The sun, making ready to set, descends behind a band of thin cloud, sending a fantastic glow onto the scrubbed, salt-bleached deck. A smell of cooking food makes itself known from belowdecks. Shirley looses his companions’ hands and stands up, joints creaking a trifle. “Supper soon, I think,” he says. Esperanza, quick as always, gathers up the sewing, careful of needles and pins, and darts off toward the cabins with it.

When Shirley comes out of his room in the damp but clean garments the servant brought, he is again the familiar, commonplace Englishman abroad. “Baxter wants us to travel overland in India, insofar possible,” he says in businesslike wise to Margaret after they have left Government House behind them. “Train to Calcutta, I think, as we talked about earlier. I think we had better pick up some more Indian kit in the bazaar. Two more outfits each will do, barely, as while we’re travelling few people will see us more than two days in succession.”

“I think three would make more sense; it does not take much more space, and I should like to have at least one presentable frock remaining upon our arrival. I do not expect we shall have much opportunity to clean our clothing en route.”

“Yes, all right.”

“We also need to find a food stall. I need to refill our hamper, and I promised Esperanza” with a grin at the girl “that we would find something to eat, after that dreadful excuse for a luncheon.”

“As you wish.” For whatever reason, Shirley seems mildly distracted; he has let lapse the intense awareness of his surroundings that he maintained on the way from the port through the bazaar.

Margaret notices, and slips her arm in his. “Shirley? Tuppence for your thoughts?”

“I’m sorry? Oh. You are being sadly overcharged. We shall talk once we are on the water. All three of us.”

Yet he seems in no particular hurry to honour that commitment. Once they have chartered their ship and moved their belongings aboard, Shirley ensconces himself in his cabin to write something.

This will get a little complicated, so bear with. He’s putting together an envelope addressed to Margaret with a letter and two envelopes inside. Each of the two (tightly sealed!) inner envelopes is addressed to Lady Hester Davies. One has a small inconspicuous “1” in the lower-right-hand corner; the other has a small inconspicuous “2” in the lower-right-hand corner.

When the whole is complete, Shirley will wait his chance to slip it in among Margaret’s other papers—but he doesn’t want to wait long, as the contents are (to him) comparable to what blew up the Alexandria rail lines. He certainly doesn’t want this discovered in his things by someone other than Margaret or Esperanza if Addison should kill him.

The outer letter reads:

My dear Margaret,

I intend to conceal this letter in your belongings, in hopes that you will not find it before you must, or before the danger is past and I can steal it back again. If Addison is not captured, and I am not dead, and still you are reading this—kindly find a better place to conceal it when you are done, or destroy it.

The two letters are a sort of unofficial codicil to my will. The one marked “1” is to be given to Lady Davies in the event that my death does not unmask me; the one marked “2” is to be given her if in the end my long concealment fails. Neither need be legally witnessed; Lady Davies’s honour and goodwill are to be relied upon. If you use the first letter, be so good as to destroy the second.

While I can, let me express to you how much I admire and esteem you: your courage, your brilliance, and your admirable good sense. I could ask for no finer friend; certainly I cannot have deserved one so good and so patient as you have proven yourself to be. I wish you all conceivable happiness once the Ellipse is complete.

Hoping earnestly you never read this,
I remain,
Your faithful friend,
SHIRLEY

Letter “1″ reads:

Dear Lady Davies:

If this comes to you, then I have not managed to survive the Grand Ellipse. I am earnestly sorry to disappoint; I hope my dereliction can be forgiven. I do thank you most heartily for according me the opportunity to participate in the historic event, as well as for all your previous kindness and generosity toward me.

I have one small request to make of you. Edgar Middlebury has my will in keeping. It need not be altered nor its reading delayed, but I have an additional specific bequest which I must beg you to manage for me. Be assured it will not conflict with the provisions of the existing will.

My sister Elizabeth owned and left to me a sapphire lavaliere, which now lies in a small concealed compartment behind the third drawer from the top on the left-hand side of my writing-desk in the office. Please find it and give it to Doctor Margaret Byrd, who has proven herself a steadfast friend on this journey. I thank you sincerely for this final consideration.

I commend to you also Doctor Byrd’s plans for a health clinic for the poor.

I remain, madam,
Very sincerely yours,
SHIRLEY ADDAM, ESQ.

Letter “2″ reads:

Dear Lady Davies,

If this comes to you, then I have not managed to survive the Grand Ellipse, and the disguise I have worn for some years has been discovered. I am wretchedly sorry for the scandal you must now endure; believe me, I did my uttermost to prevent it. Do not hesitate to protest your utter ignorance of my deception; vilify me however you wish if that will in any way lighten your difficulties. If you will deign to consider a kindly thought from one such as I, please accept my heartfelt thanks for all your kindness and generosity toward me.

I must beg one small favour of you, if you will vouchsafe me one last kindness. In a small concealed compartment behind the third drawer from the top on the left-hand side of my writing-desk in the office, you will find a sapphire lavaliere which was mine before I took on my brother’s semblance. Please find it and give it to my friend, Doctor Margaret Byrd. I wish I had something similar to give you; I take comfort that you cannot possibly need any such gift.

I understand that it will be difficult under the circumstances to consider any attachment to Doctor Byrd at this time; nonetheless, I commend her and her projects to your attention. She is a brilliant, skilled, and energetic woman, and I believe you will find her company congenial also. Whatever quiet support you can give her I am sure she will requite in full measure.

Once again, I proffer my deepest apologies for the embarrassment I have caused you.

Very sincerely yours,
ELIZABETH (sometime SHIRLEY) ADDAM