Читать книгу Night of a Thousand Stars - Deanna Raybourn, Deanna Raybourn - Страница 13

Five

And somehow, through our mutual resolve, a partnership was born. I had made up my mind to find Sebastian, and Masterman had made up her mind to help. The first order of business was to make inquiries at the steamship offices, and since it was already past teatime, we arranged to spend the night in London at a small but respectable hotel. Masterman booked the room and I hurried in with my cloche pulled low to avoid being recognised. It wasn’t likely that any of Mother’s friends would frequent such a quiet place, but I was in no mood to take chances. We left early the next morning to divide and conquer. We separated with conspiratorial nods, and I took the offices of the five largest companies, smiling sweetly and asking to see the passenger lists for departures to Palestine, Syria, the Lebanon, the Transjordan, Turkey, and Egypt. I thought I had narrowed the search considerably, but there proved to be far more ships departing than I had expected. The tiny printed names blurred together as I reached for yet another list from yet another bored clerk.

I worked on, studying the endless lists and pushing through a headache and stiff shoulders. I stifled a yawn and just as I was about to put aside the last list, a name jumped out at me. Fox, Sebastian. I yelped, earning myself a dark look from the clerk, but I blew him a kiss and asked him for paper and pencil. He sweetly obliged, and I copied out every scrap of information, the name of the ship, the date of departure, the class of cabin he had booked.

Beckoning the clerk over, I showed him the list. “Can you tell me exactly where this ship stops?”

Bored once more, the clerk silently handed over a slim pamphlet with the ship’s itinerary shown on a small map as well as a list of amenities and attractions. I thanked him and left, mind whirling. It was time for lunch and Masterman and I were not supposed to rendezvous until teatime. It was the perfect opportunity to take her advice and brave one of society’s favourite hotspots. I made my way to the Savoy, forcing myself to think of the rather delectable Poulard de France Dorothy instead of the stares and glares I was bound to attract. I was just about to enter the restaurant when I heard a voice behind me.

“I don’t believe it—Penelope Hammond!”

I whirled around, wincing a little at the sound of my name echoing through the lobby, but as soon as I saw the source, I broke into a grin. “Cubby Ashley!”

Lord Edward Ashley, known to his friends by his childhood nickname of Cubby for his resemblance to an amiable bear, kissed me swiftly on the cheek. “It’s good to see you in person,” he told me. “The direst rumours are going round about you at the clubs.”

“I can imagine,” I said dryly. “Don’t tell me you’re listening to such nonsense.”

“Nonsense? My dear girl, I’ve got a fiver on you being covered in scales under all your clothes.”

I tweaked his arm. “Ass.” But I said it with affection. “It is good to see you, too, Cubby. I do feel rather awful about the wedding.”

“Yes, well, you didn’t just run out on Gerald, you know. There I was, all got up in my rig for standing up with him—and dashed splendid I looked, too. It isn’t every day I make the effort,” he added with a twinkling smile. Before I could speak, he darted a glance around. The lobby of the Savoy was a crowded place and we were already beginning to attract attention. “I say, Penelope, I would like to catch up. I don’t suppose you’d have lunch?”

“Of course,” I said promptly. “But not here. I’m afraid my nerve has rather deserted me. I’ve just seen Lady Knapely walk in, and she’s one of Mother’s chums. I couldn’t bear running into Mother just now.”

With the furtive hilarity of children on holiday we hurried out and down the street to a quiet little corner house, where we ordered quickly and settled down to the business of catching up.

“All right, Cubby. Out with it. I know why I didn’t want to stay at the Savoy, but why were you so eager to get out of there. What’s afoot?”

To my astonishment, the gentle giant actually blushed.

“Cubby! You’ve got a girl,” I deduced. “And you didn’t want to be seen in public with a scandal like me in case your girl heard about it. Confess all—I’m right, aren’t I?”

The blush deepened. “More than a girl. I’ve got a fiancée.”

“How wonderful!”

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “You see, Father had a bride all picked out for me.”

I held up a hand. “Don’t tell me. Some heiress to shore up that castle of his.”

Cubby nodded. “You know how it is. The Ashley title is five hundred years old but we haven’t a bean. The whole north tower actually collapsed last month.”

I winced. “Oh, dear. And I suppose your father found a nice girl with pots of nice money, did he? What was she—American? Railroad heiress?”

“South American with a squint and mouse-brown hair. And it’s not railroad money at all. Nitrate mining,” he told me between spoonfuls of soup.

“What is a nitrate and why does one want to mine it?”

He shrugged. “Something to do with arms. Her father made a bloody fortune in the war, which I think is quite low really.”

I smiled into my soup bowl. “Cubby, you’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. For you to say something is low, it must have been awfully vile.”

“Yes, well, you know how it was. I was over there in the trenches. I lost friends, more than I care to count. And to marry a girl whose father made his money that way—” He broke off, wincing. “I hadn’t the stomach for it. At least, not until you.”

I put down my spoon. “Until me?”

“When you had the courage to leave Gerald at the altar. Serves him right, the pompous prig.”

“Cubby, Gerald is your best friend and your cousin,” I reminded him. “And what I did wasn’t courageous. It was the rankest cowardice.”

“It was not,” he said stubbornly. “If you knew you had doubts, the right thing, the only thing, was to get out before it all became official. I call it good sense.”

“Good sense, bad form,” I murmured.

“Yes, well, society doesn’t know everything,” he said firmly.

I tipped my head thoughtfully. “Cubby, tell me about your new fiancée. Does society not approve?”

“It does not,” he told her. He put down his spoon and leaned forward, his eyes bright. “She’s the prettiest girl in the world. She’s kind and thoughtful, and well, I simply wouldn’t want to live if I couldn’t have her.”

“You’re quite the romantic, Cubby,” I said, smiling. “But if she’s so wonderful, why the objections to the match? Hasn’t she any money?”

“Not tuppence to rub together, I’m afraid. She’s the vicar’s daughter,” he said with a rueful face. “Mother is about to have an apoplexy, and Father’s threatened to cut me off without a shilling, but I don’t care. I love Gwen, and I’ll marry her or no one. It’s been the most terrible secret, utterly awful not to be able to talk about it, and you’ve always been so friendly. I feel somehow you understand that I mean to do this. I must do this.” Cubby’s chin had taken on a decidedly mulish cast, and I tried not to imagine the outrage of the Marchioness of Drumlanrig at having a daughter-in-law called Gwen.

“I’m sure they’ll come around,” I said, certain of no such thing. But it seemed the only polite remark to make under the circumstances, and Cubby brightened noticeably.

“But you see, Gwen is a bit uncertain of me just yet,” he went on. “She’s feeling out of sorts at how awful my family are being, and it’s made her doubt herself. If she were to find out I’d been lunching with someone as notorious as—”

He broke off, blushing again as I gave an indignant screech. “I’m not notorious! A moment ago, you said I was courageous.”

“And I meant it. But people do say things about you. I mean, what sort of girl leaves a viscount’s heir at the altar?”

“And what sort of man throws over a nitrate heiress for a village maiden?” I retorted.

But I could never stay mad at Cubby, and having at least one friend to talk to made me feel marginally less like a pariah. By the time we had tucked into large plates of apple tart with cream, we were perfectly friendly again—friendly enough that I ventured to give him an almost truthful response when he asked about my plans.

“I mean to travel,” I told him. “I’m thinking of someplace nice and sunny. Perhaps the Holy Land.”

He sat back, patting his rounded belly in satisfaction. “Rather a long way just for some sun.”

“Yes, well, I’ve always been mad about Biblical antiquities,” I said blithely. “Nineveh and Bethlehem and Sodom.” At least I hoped those were real places. Cubby blinked and I hurried on. “Anyway, now that the war’s over, I can see the region properly.”

“Ah, taking a Cook’s tour or something?”

I thought quickly. A Cook’s tour would cost the earth, and I doubted my funds would stretch to passage for me and Masterman, as well. I could have asked Reginald and he would have given the money happily, but something in me rebelled for the first time. If I asked Reginald, it meant involving Mother, who would ask endless questions and even, possibly, insist upon coming along. But if I found the means myself, I was answerable to no one. I could go as I please. I could be truly independent for once. The thought was as intoxicating as the finest champagne, and I blurted out before I could stop myself, “Actually, I mean to get a job.”

Cubby blinked. “A job? Really? Well, that’s splendid,” he said, a shade too heartily. “What sort of job?”

I shrugged. “Companion, I suppose. It’s what I’m fit for. I can answer letters and walk dogs and arrange flowers. I don’t think I should make a very good governess or nurse,” I finished with a shudder.

“No, I don’t think so,” he agreed with a kindly smile. His expression turned thoughtful. “I say, it’s the strangest coincidence, but I might know of something.”

“Really?”

“My great-uncle on Mother’s side, curious old chap. Always haring off to parts unknown. He was a great explorer in years past, but now he’s content to potter about his old haunts. He was quite ill this past winter, as a matter of fact, we were certain he was a goner. But he’s pulled through and wants to go back to the Levant. Apparently he had a roaring time of it when he was younger and wants to see it all again before he dies.”

“And he needs a companion?” My heart began to beat quickly, tightly, like a new drum.

“Not exactly. He means to write his memoirs and his handwriting is truly awful. Even worse than mine and no one has read a word I’ve written since 1912. I don’t suppose you can type?” he finished hopefully.

I smiled thinking of the secretarial course I had very nearly completed. “As a matter of fact, I can. After a fashion,” I added in a burst of honesty.

“Well, that’s just ripping,” he said with a hearty chuckle. “I do love when things work out so neatly, almost as if it were meant to be. Now, if I know Uncle Cyrus, he’s using this memoir as an excuse to have someone younger to come along on the trip. He’s very fond of young people,” he advised. “You see, Uncle Cyrus likes to tell stories, bang on about the old days. My theory is he’s told them all too many times and his valet won’t listen anymore. He wants a fresh pair of ears,” Cubby finished with a nod.

“I have fresh ears,” I told him. I was suddenly quite desperate to go to the Levant with Uncle Cyrus. “Would you mind asking your uncle if he still has a position open?”

He shrugged. “Not at all. Always happy to do a good turn for a pal.”

I hesitated. “And when you ask, can you tell him my name is March?”

Cubby’s spaniel-brown eyes widened as he shaped a soundless whistle. “I say, a bit of intrigue there. Going incognita, are you?”

“No, as it happens. Hammond isn’t my legal name. Mother was divorced from my father, you know. His name was March.”

“Not one of the Sussex Marches?”

“The same.”

He gave another bark of laughter. “But they’re all mad as hatters.”

“Yes, well,” I said dryly, “sometimes I think this particular apple mayn’t have fallen far from the tree. But it will damp down the scandal if I start using my real name again, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “How the devil should I know? I have no intrigues. I am pure as the driven snow,” he added, pulling a face.

I gave him a suspicious glance. “Oh, I don’t know, Cubby. I should think you were capable of an intrigue or two if you put your mind to it.”

He paled for a second, but as soon as the colour in his face ebbed it flooded back, and he took a quick sip of his coffee. I grinned.

“Only joking. I am sure Miss Gwen can be certain of your fidelity. You’re the last fellow to have a señorita tucked away on the side.”

He threw me a grateful look. “Yes, quite. Where are you staying?”

I wrote down my details on a bit of scrap paper and handed it to Cubby. “Thank you, Cubby. I won’t forget this.”

He laughed. “Don’t thank me. You haven’t met Uncle Cyrus.”

* * *

Cubby was as good as his word, and the following afternoon I appeared punctually at the Langham Hotel. It didn’t have the glamour and swing of the Savoy, but the staid Victorian solemnity of it was reassuring. It occurred to me as I stepped into the lift that this was the very first time I had interviewed for a job, and I squared my shoulders and rapped smartly on the door. I ought to have been alarmed, but what was finishing school for if it couldn’t give a girl confidence and prepare her for any eventuality?

The door swung open and so did my mouth. Standing on the other side was a man so handsome even the queen would have looked twice. He was the sort of man you could just imagine carrying you from a burning building or duelling for your honour, all broad shoulders and chiselled jaw with a pair of fathomless blue eyes that looked me over as he gave me a slow smile of appreciation.

He got his mouth under control more quickly than I did mine. He dropped the smile and cleared his throat, although his eyes—dark blue as a summer sky and fringed with thick, sooty lashes—still danced.

“Miss March, I presume.”

I snapped my mouth shut then realised I needed it to speak. “Colonel Archainbaud?”

He laughed. “Not by half. I’m the valet, Talbot. Hugh Talbot. Come this way, miss. The colonel is expecting you.”

He didn’t look behind to see if I was following, but it wasn’t necessary. I would have followed him to the gates of hell, I thought stupidly. He conducted me to an inner room where the colonel waited and announced me.

“Yes, yes, come in, child!” the colonel instructed.

I darted another glance at Talbot, and he turned, giving me an almost imperceptible wink as he left.

“Colonel Archainbaud, how kind of you to see me,” I began. I crossed to where he was seated.

“Forgive me for not rising,” he said, tapping his leg. “Dicky leg since the war. Doesn’t do what I want some days. But you understand, I’m sure.”

“Of course.” He waved me to a chair and I took the opportunity to look him over. He must have been a fine figure of a man once. He had stooped shoulders and white hair, but I could see the remnants of a tall frame and a soldier’s regal bearing. I’d met a dozen like him before—no-nonsense, plain-spoken, and full of love for king and country. His cheeks were ruddy and his brows, thick and woolly as white caterpillars, wriggled when he spoke. They were extraordinary, those brows, and I tried not to stare.

While I had been looking him over, he had been doing the same to me, assessing me with a gimlet eye.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said bluntly.

“In what way, Colonel?”

“You’re a damn sight too young, for starters. Are you even twenty?”

I paused. Ancient colonels fell into two camps, those with utterly no sense of humour and those who prided themselves on their banter. I gambled that he was the latter. “Surely you don’t expect a lady to tell her age,” I said demurely.

I had gambled and won. The colonel let out a sharp bark of a laugh followed by a wheeze.

“That’s told me, hasn’t it? Always did like a girl who could keep me in my place. Well, so long as you remember there’s a time for raillery and a time to be serious,” he added with a narrowed eye.

“Of course,” I promised, smoothing my skirt over my knee.

“Well, you might be far too young, but at least no one will assume I’m misbehaving when they see us together. They’ll think you’re my granddaughter,” he said, breaking into more of his peculiar barking laughter. “Now, tell me about your references,” he commanded, watching me slyly.

“References?” My voice was hollow. It hadn’t even occurred to me to forge any, and I wondered then if finishing school had been a colossal waste of time when it came to equipping a girl with the skills that really mattered.

I had paused too long. The colonel knew I had none and laughed again. “Now, now, don’t look so downcast. I heard all I needed from young Cubby. The boy’s an ass, but he has nice friends, and all he tells me about you is that you’re in a spot of bother.”

His eyes were kindly, and I hurried to reassure him. “Nothing important, Colonel. But I do find myself in need of a job and there isn’t much I am qualified to do.”

“Why not nursery governess?”

I shuddered. “I don’t much care for babies. I mean, I might like one if it were mine, but as I’ve never had one I can’t say for sure. My mother had four after me, and I never much liked them as infants.”

“Too froggy-looking,” he agreed. “Why not shop assistant?”

I smiled. “I don’t think I have the temperament to deal with difficult people.”

“Ha! And what makes you think I won’t be difficult?” he asked, leaning forward, his eyes alight under those caterpillar brows.

“Because you are a gentleman,” I returned sweetly.

He preened and puffed a little, and that’s when I knew the job was mine. We fell to discussing terms. The salary was not ungenerous, and the responsibilities were simple ones.

“Handwriting is a bit untidy these days,” he said ruefully, “so deciphering it might be a bit of a bore, but you can always ask. Chances are, I won’t be able to read it myself and we’ll just have to make something up,” he added with a jolly smile. “I’ve been working on the memoir for years and I’ve made a pig’s breakfast of it. It needs a steady hand and clear eye to bring some order to it. Aside from that, just a bit of light secretarial work—writing the odd letter and so forth, keeping me company with a bit of chess. And of course helping out with Peeky when Talbot isn’t around,” he added.

“Peeky?”

As if on cue, the door opened and the beautiful valet entered bearing an armful of moth-eaten rug.

“Peeky,” the colonel told me. Talbot deposited the dog onto his master’s lap, and it looked at me with disdain. It was a Pekinese of middle age and uncertain temperament. But Pekes were Mother’s particular favourite, and I knew precisely how to handle them.

“That won’t be a problem,” I promised.

Talbot slipped out again, and Peeky looked after him longingly. I sympathised.

The colonel’s hand absently stroked the Peke’s fur. “The truth is, Miss March, I could get a fellow to handle these things. For that matter, I could have Talbot attend to them. He’s a competent enough chap. But the truth is, I like young people, and there’s something about having a female around that just—” he broke off, his manner slightly uncomfortable as he made his confession. “Dash it all, I just think a lady makes it all nicer.”

“I understand,” I told him. And I did. There was something infinitely depressing about a bachelor establishment, I had always felt. Actually, there was something infinitely depressing about finishing schools for that matter. Too much of one’s own sex was a dangerous thing.

“Well, then,” he said gruffly, putting out his hand. “Welcome aboard, Miss March.”

I shook hands with him and stayed to tea, and attempted to make friends with Peeky, who stared down his nose and loathed me quietly. I would have to work on that one, I decided as I rose to leave. The colonel had slumped a little in his chair, snoring gently, and it was Talbot who showed me out.

We paused at the door. “Looks as if he’s taken quite a shine to you,” he said, jerking his head back towards the colonel’s sitting room. “Can’t say as I blame him.”

The eyes were dancing again, and I pulled a serious face. “Mr. Talbot, am I going to have trouble with you?”

“No more than you ask for,” he told me with a grin. Then he put out his own hand for me to shake. “You mustn’t take me too seriously, Miss March. I’m simply giddy with delight that there will be a prettier face than mine around here. It gets rather lonely with just us elderly bachelors, the colonel, Peeky and myself.”

I shook his hand, and he held it the merest second too long.

“Thank you, Mr. Talbot.”

He shook his head. “No, miss. The colonel won’t like that. You might work for him, too, but he knows you are a lady. To you, I’m just Talbot.”

“That hardly seems right,” I protested.

His expression was rueful. “You’ll find out soon enough—he might be a splendid old fellow, but this is not a democracy, Miss March. Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Talbot,” I said. I made my way out of the hotel and into a watery grey afternoon. A spring storm had blown up while I was inside, and the pavements were wet. The clouds were low and ominous, the wind cruel as only a March wind can be. I had forgot my umbrella and my coat was impossibly thin. Within minutes I was soaked through, but I didn’t mind. I was leaving for the Holy Land in a week’s time. I had done it.

Masterman was less impressed when I told her I had taken the post. We met in our little room at the hotel she had found, and I was crackling with excitement. Masterman was considerably more subdued as she hung up my wet coat and stuffed newspaper into my shoes.

“You cannot seriously mean to work for this man,” she protested. She set the shoes well away from the fire to dry slowly.

“I can and I do,” I told her firmly. “Now, we haven’t much time to make our arrangements. The colonel expects me to begin work the day of our departure, so that gives us only a few days to travel down to Father’s and pack up my things, and we still have to book your passage.”

She shook her head. “I feel peculiar.”

“Take a bromide.”

“It’s not indigestion,” she said. “And you mustn’t be flippant. It’s gone too far now.”

I blinked at her in astonishment. “Masterman, this is what we have been working towards. How can you possibly say it’s gone too far?”

She spread her hands. They were surprisingly elegant hands, but capable. They knew how to do things and do them well. My own hands seemed silly and childish by comparison.

“I thought you were merely having a little adventure, a grand little adventure.”

“And what did you think would happen when it was finished? How did you think it would end?”

“I thought you would realise you haven’t a hope of finding Sebastian. I thought it would all just...stop. I expected you would go back to the life you came from.”

I felt a surge of anger. “This isn’t just a lark, Masterman. Sebastian could be in trouble—injured or even dead for all we know.”

“And you really think you can find him?” she asked evenly. I had the strangest feeling she was testing me, and I rose to the bait.

My hands fisted at my sides. “Why not? Why should it fall to someone else to care what happened to him? He was kind to me when I needed it. He went out of his way to help me, and I owe him a debt, Masterman. I can’t just walk away now. I’ve spent my entire life walking away from things.”

Her expression was curious. “Miss?”

“Oh, very well! Gerald wasn’t the first,” I confessed miserably. “I’ve been very nearly engaged twice before. I’ve managed to avoid committing myself, but it was frightfully awkward. I’ve left schools, half a dozen of them. I’ve taken on pets and causes and friendships and let them go the moment they asked too much of me. I’ve never once in the whole of my life finished anything. Don’t you see, Masterman? If I don’t finish this, this one thing, I’ll never finish anything. I’ll never see anything through to the end. My family think it’s funny. They joke about the hobbies and romances and projects I’ve left undone. But it’s not a joke anymore. Because it’s become who I am, what I’ve become. I don’t want to be a joke, Masterman. I want to see this through. Not just for Sebastian—for me. Oh, never mind. I can’t explain it. I only know that this is something I have to do. Saying it aloud only makes it sound silly and melodramatic, but the truth is, it feels like a calling.”

“A calling?”

“Yes, isn’t that what clergymen say about their work? They’re called to it? Well, that’s how I feel about this. It’s not just Sebastian, Masterman. Can’t you see? It’s something much bigger, and I don’t understand it yet, but I know I have to go looking.”

Masterman said nothing for a long moment. Then she took a deep breath and exhaled it very, very slowly, and the fight seemed to go out of her. “Very well, miss. We’ll go.”

“You don’t have to—” I began.

The expression on her face was so fierce I flinched. “Yes, I do. However long it takes, wherever it takes us. ‘Whither thou goest,’” she finished.

I smiled weakly. “You’ll be my Ruth, then?”

“However long, wherever it takes us,” she repeated.