Fever Quest: A Clean Historical Mystery set in England and India (The Isabella Rockwell Trilogy Book 2) (14 page)

“I know that. I haven’t thought about anything except which
way we should go for the last twenty-four hours.” Isabella was exasperated,
worry causing her to snap.

“What about Masulipatam?”

The voice that spoke was creaky with lack of use, but it
had lost its old harshness; the edge of discontent that had often made
Isabella’s skin crawl with anger.

“The port is there isn’t it?” Rose looked at the three of
them.

“Er … yes,” said Midge.

“Why don’t we take a boat?”

There was silence for a moment.

“To where?” said Isabella.

“To Bombay,” said Rose. She rubbed her nose. “Isn’t there
a good road from there to Lucknow? One which Stone won’t be watching?”

Isabella’s mind was working frantically.

“How would we pay for our passage?” Midge spoke the words
she’d been thinking.

“Sell Midge’s diamond. Surely we could sell it there?”
said Rose.

Isabella nodded. “Of course we could. It’s a huge
jewel-trading port.”

“Well, then.” Rose looked pleased with herself.

“You’re feeling better are you, Rose?” Livia’s voice was
hesitant as she put her hand on Rose’s shoulder.

Rose looked at her and nodded.

“Yes. I think I am.”

They must have travelled twelve miles that first
night, Isabella estimated. It could have been more, but Livia still needed to
stop and rest. The road was well-made and the occasional farmstead was visible
from the road. Goats bleated and dogs barked and all seemed normal, but the
quietness was not to last, and by the time they reached the outskirts of the Port of Masulipatam the traffic had increased tenfold. Isabella was nervous. To her eye her
travelling companions looked too different, too unusual to remain on a road
like this, unchallenged. Livia and Midge were unmistakably blond, now that
Livia’s black hair colour was growing out. By the time the sun came up it would
be obvious that at least two of them were ferenghis. Rose was probably harder
to place, with her dusty brown hair and pale eyes. Her skin had gone a deep
brown, so she might get away with pretending she was from the north, where
people were fairer. As long as she kept her mouth shut.

The buildings on either side of the road increased in
number like new teeth in the mouth of a baby, until there was a swarm of carts
and horses and people walking down to the middle of the town. Dung coated the
road and Isabella smiled to watch Rose and Livia try to avoid it. The sun was
rising right into their eyes, bathing everything in pearly pink, but Isabella’s
eyes wandered from the view, searching the road from left to right.

“Here we are,” she muttered, guiding her companions to a
white stone house, set back a little from the road. It was partly hidden by a
giant fig tree, which sent the smell of sugar sap up into the air.
Honey-coloured chickens ran around the path to the front door. A gigantic woman
with a kindly, crinkly face let them in. Isabella salaamed.

“Please, madam. Do you have rooms for the four of us?”

The woman clapped her hands and a shy young girl of about
eight appeared and took them upstairs. Here were two large rooms with two beds
in each, the mosquito nets drifting in the early-morning breeze like sails.
Midge and Isabella took one and the girls took the other. Then the servant girl
brought naan and honey and clean water, which they ate with large mouthfuls and
no speaking.

Isabella stood up.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Midge was wiping his mouth.

“Where are you going?”

“Just a bit of shopping.”

“Thought you didn’t have any money.”

“I don’t. I was going to trade your diamond.”

Midge’s eyes were now wide open.

“Were you now?” He started to get up, but then sat back
down. “Make sure you get a good price for it.”

Isabella smiled.

“Don’t I always?”

The sun was high now and bounced off the white
buildings around the port with a ferocious glare. Isabella pulled the loose
fold of her sari down over her head and round to cover her mouth from the dust
thrown up by the heavy goods carts queuing to enter the port. It was a moment
before she realised she wasn’t alone.

“Rose! What are you doing here?”

Rose had arranged her sari in a similar fashion so only
her olive eyes were visible.

“I thought someone should come with you, and Livia is
asleep and Midge is too conspicuous.”

“I’m not sure I need any help from you.” Isabella kept
walking. She was blown if she was going to stop and talk to Rose in a civilised
fashion just because she’d decided to speak.

Rose picked up speed alongside her, her breathing heavy in
the heat.

“I know what you think of me and I understand, but this
money is important, isn’t it? If we don’t get to Lucknow, we won’t get the
seeds to Mother Muckerjee.”

Isabella moved around a cart that had stopped dead in the
middle of the road, the driver shouting at another driver who had crossed his
path.

“Since when did you care about getting to Lucknow?”

“Since I saw Livia get better.”

Isabella shot her a sideways glance. Rose’s eyes were wide
and they welled with tears which she forced back down. If she was fibbing, she
was making a very good job of it.

“Even though Livia being ill was all my fault?” Isabella
said, feeling sly.

Rose looked down and was unable to stop one tear falling
into the fabric of her sari.

“Livia getting ill wasn’t your fault.”

“What changed your mind?”

“You were kind to me. You didn’t leave me in the mine,
even though you could have.”

Isabella paused and then took the road that she thought
would lead to the docks. It was packed with people and she had to shout to make
herself heard.

“You weren’t well.” She threaded her way through a throng
of people bidding for a pile of leather books and a telescope. “And even I’m
not that horrible.”

Rose seemed to have got herself under control.

“No, you’re not.”

On their right a giant white building with spires and
minarets clung to the land opposite the ships in the dock. Beneath its marble
arches it was cool, and Isabella looked in through the open wooden shutters at
the gems on display. If Rose hadn’t been with her, still twittering at her
elbow, she’d have taken her time in looking at them. They were so beautiful.
The deep glow of the aquamarines, the same colour as the sea outside Cape Town, and the emeralds, glittering like the stripe of satin Abhaya used to have on
her best sari, exactly the colour of a male peacock’s feather: first green,
then blue, then a mixture of the two. Finally, the diamonds, yellow, pink, blue
and white, winking on a bed of ivory silk. Isabella felt she could stand there
for ever.

Rose fidgeted at her side.

Isabella sighed. “Anyway, are you better now?”

Rose nodded. “I just wanted to say sorry.”

Isabella opened her mouth and then closed it again.

“Uh? Oh, OK. I accept your apology.” More shouting came
from behind them as six men carrying a litter tried to pass through the crowds.
Red silk curtains shielded the occupant from outsiders’ eyes. “Come on, these
shops are too smart.” Isabella narrowed her eyes. “We need a shop that is sort
of in between, one that can afford our diamond but which won’t mind how we got
it.”

A few minutes later they left the marble market hall and
made their way along an alley behind the first row of shops along the dock
front. It was darker here, with the stalls closely packed so they blocked out
some of the sun. A low yellow light burned from the window of one of them.

“Let’s try in here.”

The door had a cowbell on it which jangled behind them.
Piles of objects in different-sized boxes towered either side of the doorway,
so there was only a narrow path to the desk at the rear. The shop smelt of
brass polish. A man with a giant turban emerged from a back room. He was
flapping his hands.

“Aiee, shoo, shoo! What are you doing? There are no dogs
allowed in here.”

Isabella looked at him.

“What dog? We haven’t got any dog …” Her voice
trailed off as she looked behind her. Rat put his ear back and wagged the tip
of his tail.

“I was supposed to be doing this by myself and now there
are two of you,” she said in an undertone to Rat as she put him back out on the
shop’s veranda. Rat looked away as if he couldn’t hear her. “Stay there.” He
turned his back on her.

“Sorry, sir. I hadn’t realised.”

But the shopkeeper didn’t mind and it turned out she had
chosen well. He was thrilled with the diamond and gave them a fair price for
it. Isabella tucked the rupees into a fold in her sari.

“Um, that seems like an awful lot of money,” said Rose
quietly as they went down the veranda steps to the alleyway. Rat pattered
behind them.

Isabella nodded. “It is.”

“What are you going to do with it all?”

“Well, it’s not really mine. It’s Midge’s.”

“And he trusts you?”

Isabella looked at Rose.

“Yes.” She paused. “He does now.”

They followed the alley back around to the dock. The Indian Ocean glittered at them in the white light of the sun. A little sign swung in front
of an apothecary and they climbed the slated steps to the cool interior. Rose
looked around the shop with pleasure.

“It reminds me of the one in Mombasa.”

Isabella smiled.

“It seems a very long time ago that we were in Mombasa,” continued Rose. “It almost feels like it happened to someone else.”

Isabella nodded. She didn’t want to speak and give away
how much she wanted to fill Abhaya’s pouch. Its emptiness mocked her every time
she opened her father’s bag. She could see the shopkeeper hoping to start a
conversation about remedies, but she knew she mustn’t. That part of her was
gone. It had been put to bed. It would be best if she paid it no attention.

Rose was sifting blue petals through her fingers.

“Do you need some of this?”

Isabella shook her head and asked the shopkeeper for some
dye.

“Well, there must be some kind of herb you need,”
persisted Rose.

“No. I don’t need anything.”

Rose was looking at her strangely.

“Why not?”

“I don’t do that any more.” Isabella’s voice was a mumble.
She didn’t want the storekeeper to hear them speaking English.

“But you were so good at it,” Rose said. “Here, look at
this.” She held up a little package the size of a hanky. “It’s got a little bit
of everything in it. For fever, chills, upset tummy, poisoning.”

The shopkeeper could hold back no longer.

“Yes, yes, yes. An excellent choice, a lovely selection
for the traveller. Top quality.”

Isabella handed over some money to him just to shut Rose
up.

As they left the shop for the sharp sunshine, which made
her squint, Isabella turned and faced Rose full on. The hubbub of the market
swirled around them and a tiny monkey swung to the top of a calico canopy that
shaded some mangoes. Isabella ducked beneath it.

“Rose.” Isabella spoke slowly and clearly. “I nearly
killed someone. I didn’t mean to, but it still happened. I can’t allow it to
happen again. I don’t think I could live thinking I was responsible for risking
someone’s life, not again. Even if it was an accident.” Isabella’s voice
dropped and then petered out. She stuck out her chin, determined not to cry.

Rose looked at her. Her face was without expression.

“You didn’t poison him.”

Isabella let out an exasperated sigh. “No, I didn’t poison
him on purpose, but I made the potion that could have killed him.”

Rose looked down, and if it hadn’t been for a sudden drop
in the noise around them, Isabella wouldn’t have been able to hear her.

“No. I mean
you
didn’t poison him.”

Isabella looked at Rose. Was she losing her mind?

“I poisoned him,” said Rose.

Isabella blinked. The noise around them seemed to
disappear altogether.

Her mouth moved, copying the words Rose had just said.

“You poisoned him?”

Rose nodded, hesitant.

“I poisoned him. I put the wolfsbane in the love potion.”

The effort it took Rose to say the words left Isabella in
no doubt that she was telling the truth. Her face was set. The cords of her
neck stuck out and there were two white stripes down either side of her nose.
Isabella looked at her for a long moment.

Then she gripped her father’s bag and walked away. Her
heart beat so fast she thought it might jump from her chest. She pushed her way
through the crowds, hearing nothing and seeing nothing. Molten anger poured
over her. How dare she? How dare Rose let Isabella shoulder the blame for so long?
Not even when she’d despised Rose the most had she ever thought her capable of
such a deadly betrayal. And yet now, in a strange frozen moment, she could
picture how easily Rose might have done it.

Someone grabbed her hand.

“Isabella. Please stop. Hear me out, please.”

Tears poured down Rose’s cheeks, but her grip was strong
and she was able to drag Isabella into an archway and up a small set of steps
where it was quiet and cool.

“I understand how angry you must be, but will you please
just listen to me? I feel so guilty. I can’t live with myself.”

“And how do you think I’ve felt since it happened?”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was a terrible thing
to do, but I was desperate …”

“Desperate enough to commit murder?”

Rose nodded as though her head was too heavy for her
spindly neck.

“Desperate,” she echoed. “Livia liked you so much, I
couldn’t stand it. I knew how unhappy she was about coming to India to marry – about marrying altogether. I knew she wouldn’t go through with it. When
she met you, I knew you’d be part of her way out.” Rose’s head drooped. “I knew
it even before she did.”