Fever Quest: A Clean Historical Mystery set in England and India (The Isabella Rockwell Trilogy Book 2) (3 page)

It was a diamond.

A sparkling teardrop of such beauty Isabella couldn’t tear
her eyes away. The light from the lantern played through it, causing tiny
spectrums to reflect onto Midge’s face, catching his eyes then the gold in his
hair as if a thousand fairies had stamped their feet in a vigorous tattoo.

“Gaw lummy. Is that what I think it is?” Isabella could
only nod. “Can I see it?”

Isabella’s hand unclasped like the shell of an oyster
opening on a pearl. Midge’s eyes were round with wonder. A shower of sparks
shot from the fire and landed on his shoe. A burst of light came through the
window from far away, so the roofs of the port were visible for a split second,
like a distant jumble of gravestones. Midge lifted the diamond to his face and
peered through it. His whole face was lit by its glow and time shrank back and
he was once again the little boy she’d met on the streets of London one year
before. Midge looked at her, the diamond still cupped next to his face, and he
smiled. He handed it back to her.

“I think it would be better if you gave it back.” The
voice behind them spoke English and belonged to a tall figure in the white
uniform of the Madras Cavalry. To Isabella he looked insubstantial, as if the
light passed right through him, but that may have been because his skin was so
white and his eyes so pale a blue, they too looked white. Isabella blinked and
held the diamond out to him.

“Of course. Sorry.” She dropped it into the man’s hand,
feeling her fingers reluctantly uncurling and the sudden emptiness.

“It’s cursed, that diamond.” Midge’s voice was funny,
strained, and he was frowning.

“Why do you say that, young man?” The tall man turned his
pale eyes on Midge, but Midge seemed to recover himself and looked as if he
wished he hadn’t spoken. A soft-footed waiter cleared the table in front of
them, and left the scent of wood polish in the air. The man sat down in a deep
velvet chair next to Midge. “It happens you’re right.” His voice had the
careful precision of the very drunk. The man’s comrade peered over from his own
seat.

“Go on, Remus, tell them. It’s a great story.”

The man’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s not a story.”

His friend held up his hands, laughing.

“Whatever you say.”

The man turned back to them.

“I am Colonel Remus Stone and this” – he rolled the
diamond lovingly around his palm – “has travelled a very long way. Have you
heard of Golconda?”

Isabella sat forward. “The diamond mines in South India?”

The man nodded. “Exactly. The greatest diamond mines in
the world.” There was an overwhelming pride in his voice and Isabella shot a
look at Midge, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was watching Colonel Stone.
“When I was little, ships from all around the globe would wait at port to carry
our diamonds. Diamond traders would fight each other in the streets for the
rights to the best stones – I used to love those fights. Golconda had been
blessed by the goddess Kali and her people worshipped her. They built her a
temple and a giant statue in her likeness with two huge rubies for her eyes and
the most beautiful diamond ever mined was placed on her forehead to represent
her all-seeing third eye – the Eye of Kali. Kali’s priestess was a woman of
great beauty and purity, and the Maharajah forced her to be his wife, but she
was never happy. Even worse, when the old Maharajah died she was forced to
commit suttee, even though she had a young son.”

“Suttee?” asked Midge.

“The practice of wives burning with their husbands on the
husband’s funeral pyre.”

Midge looked blank.

“When they’re still alive,” added Isabella.

Midge grimaced.

“That’s backwards, that is.”

“It’s also illegal,” added the man’s friend.

“So then what happened?” urged Isabella.

Colonel Stone took a deep drink from his glass of port.
His lips and teeth were stained dark.

“The new priest of Kali promised to save her, but the day
of the suttee he was nowhere to be found. The Maharani stood in front of her
husband’s funeral pyre and cursed the goddess she had served so faithfully and
who’d deserted her in her darkest hour. Then she threw herself on the fire and
was burned. It is said she made no sound.”

A little group had formed around them; servants tired at
the end of the night, drawn by the hypnotic quality of Stone’s voice. Mrs
Rodriguez, Isabella and Midge’s escort, who’d been looking for them, sat down
quietly. The boat moved a little and the candle next to Isabella went out.

“What happened to the priest?”

“He’d run away, taking the Eye of Kali with him.”

“That’s terrible,” breathed Isabella.

Colonel Stone’s voice was hushed and his white eyes were
glazed.

“Not as terrible as the curse the Maharani left behind.”

“Which was?”

“That there would never be a diamond mined at Golconda until the Eye of Kali was returned.”

Midge’s seat squeaked as he sat forward.

“And has there been?”

“Not one.” His voice had sunk and when Isabella looked at
him he seemed shrunken.

“No diamonds at all?”

Colonel Stone looked at her without really seeing her.
“No.” He dragged his eyes back to Midge and then smiled. “But all that is about
to change.”

The diamond caught the light of the lantern on the table
next to Colonel Stone and reflected it back into the his face.

“So is that the Eye of Kali?” asked Isabella, breathless
at the thought of having handled something so priceless.

The man nodded. “I’m bringing it home.”

“Colonel Stone is Governor of Golconda.” The other man’s
words were slurred.

“But sir.” Midge was pretending not to see Mrs Rodriguez
gesturing towards the door. “Do you really believe that story?”

Colonel Stone was twirling the diamond in and out of his
fingers.

“I have no choice. I’ve spent my life trying to find this
diamond. Can’t lose faith now.” His mouth was a steely line.

“Come along, you two,” said Mrs Rodriguez, and Colonel
Stone’s eyes refocused.

“Yes, yes. Of course. You children must go to bed.”

He tucked the diamond into his breast pocket and it was as
if all the light left the room.

“So, your ayah, did you actually see her making a
love potion?”

Eloise’s fair eyebrows were raised and she pulled her blue
parasol down over her broad-brimmed straw hat. The open carriage snaked back
and forth as the driver navigated the rutted road from the port district into
the city. Livia and Rose sat on the other side of the carriage with their
parasols rammed down on their heads to stop the fierce sunlight touching their
skin. From a distance, Isabella thought, they must have looked like four
mushrooms.

Isabella felt three pairs of eyes on her and she shrank a
little under their friendly gaze. The age gap between them felt like much more
than just two years.

“Um. Abhaya lived next door to us. When she could, she
would see patients after breakfast. I helped her most days.”

“Didn’t you have to go to the schoolroom?” Rose’s voice
was jealous.

“Yes. I didn’t like it, though.”

“So Abhaya let you off?”

Isabella shrugged. “Well, it’s just she knew I’d only go
riding or something, so she thought it was better I was learning with her, than
not learning in class. But I had to go when my father was at home,” Isabella
said, hoping this made her childhood sound a little less out of the ordinary.

“I think that sounds just marvellous,” said Livia. “I
would love to have been able to do that. Tell us quickly, before Mama’s
carriage catches us up.”

All three leaned forward with a rustle of starched
petticoats.

Isabella sat up. “I only saw Abhaya make it once. There
was a girl from the village who was very much in love with one of my father’s
soldiers. I remember it because Abhaya tried to send me away.”

“Why?”

“I think she didn’t want me to see how she made the
potion.”

“Gosh, because then you’d have been able to make it
yourself?” said Eloise.

“Wasn’t it terribly complicated?” said Rose.

“Not really. So long as I wrote everything down, I could
usually make medicines turn out all right.”

“Let her continue,” said Eloise. “So what did you do?”

“I hid outside under the window sill,” Isabella said.

“And what did the girl say to Abhaya?” asked Rose.

“She asked Abhaya for a potion to ‘inflame the senses’”.
There was a quiet intake of breath from Eloise. “Abhaya told the girl off at
first, said she should find someone to marry who she didn’t have to drug, but
the girl was very determined. She said she wouldn’t leave without it and what’s
more – and this is the bit I really remember – she said she would tell
everybody Abhaya was a witch if Abhaya didn’t give it to her.”

“Well, Abhaya was, in a way,” said Rose.

“What? Just because she made medicines from plants? What
nonsense,” said Livia.

The carriage lurched to one side and Isabella’s bag fell
on the floor. Not her father’s bag, but a small pretty jewelled affair Mrs
Rodriguez had lent her especially for today. Her medicine pouch rolled out and
Rose picked it up.

“Is this yours?”

Isabella nodded. “It’s where Abhaya used to keep her
medicine. It’s mine now.”

Rose unravelled it without asking and the smell of vanilla
rose from its fabric. The threads securing each pocket were frayed. “So what
did she use in this love potion, then?”

Isabella wished she could take the pouch back and tie it
back up safely, but she didn’t want to appear childish.

“It was a mixture of ginger and star anise and several
others. They are both very warm spices …”

“Well, there we go,” said Eloise, looking pleased with
herself. “You can get both of those here, can’t you?”

“Yes.” Isabella nodded.

Eloise sat back, as if it were all settled, but Rose still
sat forward.

“What happened to the girl? Did Abhaya give her the
potion?”

“Yes, but the marriage didn’t last and the girl left the
camp one night. No one ever found out where she had gone. She just
disappeared.”

“Did Abhaya put a curse on her?”

Isabella laughed and the carriage drew to a halt beside a
squat white building with minarets.

“No, Abhaya wasn’t like that, but she knew the girl was
bad news. That’s why she didn’t want to give her the love potion. She knew she
wouldn’t use it properly.”

“
How
did she know, though?” Rose persisted as they
got down from the carriage and walked through a cloud of hookah smoke into the
bazaar.

Isabella closed her parasol. “I don’t know. I suppose she
was like a witch in the way she knew things about people, often before they
knew it themselves.”

Mrs Rodriguez and Lady Denier walked towards them.

“Now then, dear.” Isabella could hear Mrs Rodriguez reassuring
Lady Denier. “They will be quite safe. Look, Moses is waiting for us. He’ll
take good care of them.” Moses was one of the ship’s sailors, an African who
looked as if he’d been hewn from granite. He didn’t speak but moved next to the
girls. Lady Denier’s face was relieved.

“Thank heavens for Moses,” Livia whispered. “Mama would
never have let me go to the apothecary with just you and Rose. And especially
not with Eloise.”

Isabella looked up ahead at Eloise who was drawing
attention to herself by tossing her yellow hair and laughing too loudly.

“But will Moses let us go in?” whispered Isabella.

Livia laughed. “Of course. Why wouldn’t he? As long as
Mama isn’t behind him watching.”

Isabella pulled her dress up a little where it was sagging
at the front and tried to rub a scuff of dirt off her black boot. In front of
her, Livia, Eloise and Rose walked together, their dresses swaying like
different-coloured petals of the same flower.

What was she doing here?

She felt she had to pinch herself. For all of the trip,
she’d been hoping to make friends with someone – anyone, really, other than
Midge – and now she found herself out for the day with the three most popular
girls on the boat. She knew it was only because she could replicate Abhaya’s
potion, but she would enjoy it while it lasted.

Livia turned, her hair a shower of silver. She picked her
way back to Isabella and took her arm.

“Can’t have you getting lost now, can we?”

The bustle of the bazaar wound its way around them like a
golden thread, drawing them further and further into its heart. It wasn’t like
the markets in London, or India for that matter, which were built and taken
down every day. This was a permanent market and had been for hundreds of years,
so it was like a city within a city, with its own meandering alleys and dead
ends. The bazaar’s roof was covered with billowing pieces of white fabric to
keep the sun at bay, and at its centre a path sloped downwards and an
underground world of stalls opened up, cool in the shaded earth.

The four girls started by looking at the pretty ivory and
lace at the stalls around the market’s edge and then found the food stalls
where giant fish and cow’s heads lay on slabs of marble in an effort to keep
them cool. Here the stench and the flies were unbearable.

“Let’s go down here,” said Livia, her face even paler than
usual, and she hurried down into the part of the bazaar that was underground.

“Livia, Mama said we’re not allowed down here.” Eloise’s
face was anxious.

“You’re the one who wants the love potion,” teased Livia.

“Shhh,” hissed Eloise, throwing a look towards Moses. But
Moses had stopped and was now talking to someone he knew. He threw back his
giant head, laughing at a joke.

“Now! Quick.” Like a silverfish, Livia slipped off down an
alleyway leaving the girls no choice but to follow her.

Around them it grew darker. Here the stalls were narrow,
but well lit with hanging lanterns of red and green glass so their colours
flickered on the walls. Many of them sold brass and silver and even gold, which
lit the tunnel further with its yellow glow. It reminded Isabella of her days
on the streets of London just before Christmas. How the windows of the smart
houses glowed in the frozen night. How much better it was to be looking out,
than looking in. Her sense of relief that those days were over had still not
faded. She supposed they had made her tougher, but she didn’t like thinking
about them.

The straw under their feet had now turned to red dust and
there was a strong sweet smell, not unpleasant, in the air around them. The
tunnel opened up a little and Isabella could see a small sign hanging from a
low post next to a stall. On it was painted a brilliant-green plant with yellow
flowers; it was a tansy a popular remedy which could be used to treat a
headache as well as a broken limb. Any healer would recognise it; there wasn’t
a herb used more. But no goods were on display, just two pieces of fabric
draped where Isabella imagined the windows would be. The doorway was open, but
she could see nothing inside; no lamp lit it from within.

“Shall we?” Eloise’s face was excited, but Rose was
hesitant.

“What are you going to ask for?” Rose’s eyes were on
Isabella, as if she didn’t trust her not to make a mess of it.

Isabella fumbled in Mrs Rodriguez’s bag.

“I’ve got the recipe in my notebook. Hopefully they will
have what I need.”

“Just don’t make us look stupid,” snapped Rose.

Isabella nodded, terrified their friendship would be
withdrawn if she made a mistake.

Without hesitating she walked through the dark
arch into the shop.

At once the sound became muffled, though she could
hear the note of a wind chime and the bubbling of a hookah pipe. The floor had
a deep-red rug over the dirt. On the left the entire wall was encased with
little drawers filled with herbs. A tiny black-and-white monkey sat on the
glass counter below the drawers, eating a date. On the right were shelves
filled all the way to the back wall with glass bottles of different sizes and
colours, each labelled clearly with graceful black writing. The back of the shop,
instead of containing an office or a bed, opened out into a low-ceilinged space
with wooden benches and tables. Brass lanterns hung at head height over each
table, throwing the rest of the room into darkness.

In one corner of the back room was a wooden bar where an
elderly man poured a liquid into small glasses. He looked up at them, then
re-stoppered the bottle and made his way out into the shop.

“Can I help you, ladies?” His voice was rusty with age,
but his English was good. His hands, which stroked the monkey, were scarred and
the fingers misshapen. Isabella salaamed. She wasn’t sure it was the right
thing to do, but she knew Mombasa was home to many Muslims, so it seemed
appropriate. The man salaamed back and she let her breath out.

“Sir, I wondered if I might buy some rosemary and any
mullein you might have?”

The man raised his white brows.

“Not another love potion?” He smiled and shook his head at
them. “But spring has passed.”

Isabella felt the blush start at her feet and travel
upward, taking in every piece of skin she possessed. She looked down at her
notebook. Behind her she could hear Eloise and Livia looking at the bottles on
the far wall, but Rose hadn’t left her side.

“Does it matter?” Rose’s voice was strident and more than
a little bit rude, Isabella thought. “Our money’s good enough for you, isn’t
it?”

Isabella frowned. “Rose, I can manage, thank you.”

The man looked at Rose through narrowed eyes.

“I make it a point never to serve anyone I wouldn’t break
bread with. It’s bad for the soul.”

Rose fell silent.

“Sir, I am sorry.” Isabella tried to speak again. “I think
we were just a little nervous. We have not been to the bazaar before.”

The man looked at her for a moment, then reached up and
opened two of the drawers behind him.

“There are the herbs. Do you have some alcohol and
saltpetre?” Isabella shook her head and he added a small bottle of rubbing
alcohol and a dusty tin to her purchases.

“Thank you.” Isabella took out Abhaya’s medicine pouch.

“What are you doing?” hissed Rose.

“I’m going to stock up a bit whilst I’m here.” Isabella
looked across at the other two who were giggling over the smell of a particular
bottle. “Is that all right?”

Rose sniffed. “I suppose, but hurry up. We’re here for
Eloise’s benefit, not yours.”

The man came out from behind the counter.

“Miss, why don’t you come and have some tea while your
friend shops?” He led Rose over to one of the tables, where there were low
wooden benches to sit on. “Here, your friends can join you.” He placed four
china cups and a silver pot of fragrant tea on the table and then a plate piled
high with small pistachio biscuits and Turkish delight.

Rose sat down, her sour expression softening slightly.

“Well, just for the moment.” Isabella watched her take a
hesitant bite of a biscuit and then finish it in one mouthful.

“Now then, show me this wonderful contraption.” The man
smiled at her, showing very good teeth.