Fever Quest: A Clean Historical Mystery set in England and India (The Isabella Rockwell Trilogy Book 2) (5 page)

“All right, Captain Golding?” Midge said by way of a
greeting.

It took a moment, but Isabella winced as a cold shower of
realisation poured over her.

“Lordy, what’s happened here?” Midge’s eyes were wide and
his face appalled as he stared around the stricken cabin. “Looks like you needs
a bit of help with your housekeeping, Iz.”

Isabella turned on him like a snake. She didn’t think
she’d ever been so angry about anything in her life.

“How dare you stand there playing innocent. You did this,
didn’t you? I know what you were looking for, too. Who do you think you are to
cause all this mess?”

Midge laughed. “You’re not serious,” but as he gazed at
Isabella, his face grew still and the colour drained from it. He looked younger
than his eleven years. “Oh. You are serious.”

There was an agonising pause. Midge’s eyes searched the
room.

“Much as though you’d like it to be me, it wasn’t. If you
looked closely, you’d see someone’s been looking for something specific, else
why would they leave Alix’s ring and Abhaya’s medicine pouch? If it had been
me, I’d have taken those first, knowing how much they mean to you.”

Midge’s face was empty of any emotion, dead and frozen.

Isabella looked again. There, against the white
pillowcase, was Alix’s signet ring and next to it the picture Midge had drawn
of her in London, with a soldier’s hat on her head. He walked over to it,
picked it up and tore it into little pieces.

“I never liked that picture. You don’t look like that any
more, anyway.” He shouldered his way through the crowd around the door and left
the room.

Only Livia moved to go after him. Isabella stood, scarlet
with anger, in the middle of her destroyed room. The crew withdrew and Mrs
Rodriguez began to pick things up.

Thirty minutes later, as she hung up the last of her
dresses, the prickle of Isabella’s conscience made her realise she was going to
have to find Midge and apologise. He was with some of the valets who were
sharing a smoke outside after dinner. The lower deck smelled of disinfectant
and tobacco.

“Midge, I’m sorry. I was completely out of line.”

Midge leaned over and took the cigarette from the fingers
of one of the valets and dragged deeply on it, blowing the smoke over towards
her where it hung in the humid air, as if it had nowhere else to go. He stuck
his chin out.

“’S all right, Miss India. I’ve sorted myself out. I’ve
asked the Jefferies if they’d mind if I travelled with them to Rawalpindi. I think I need some time to meself.”

Isabella’s heart sank.

“But … why would you do that?”

“I don’t want to travel with you. An’ it’s pretty clear
you don’t want to travel with me.”

“That’s not true –”

But Midge interrupted her and the valets watched her with
narrowed eyes.

“No, you accused me of ruining your room without even
thinking about it. You didn’t even hesitate.” He passed the cigarette back to
one of the men and looked at her. “I don’t know who you are any more. The
Isabella I know would have delivered Al Hassan’s package. You remember Al
Hassan, the man who saved me from the noose and you from …” He paused.
“From yourself, I suppose.”

His tone was biting and there was a roaring in her ears.
One of the valets sniggered and put the cigarette butt out on his palm.

“Midge, it is just some seeds and some grey powder. It’s
not gold, or a diamond, or gunpowder or ammunition. There is no rush. And I
will
deliver it.”

“Except he asked you to do it as soon as you arrived in India.”

Isabella’s throat closed and she felt her face go hot.

“I will do it –”

“I’m not talking about it any more.” His voice was like
steel on stone and he ground his heel into the wood of the deck and walked back
inside.

The valets looked at her. “Do you want a cigarette?” one
of them asked. She shook her head.

A veil of cloud shrouded the moon so the starlit
night grew dark. Isabella went back to her cabin. There was nothing left to
say. She just had to hope he would change his mind.

But he didn’t.

The docks at the port of Masulipatam were thronged with
people. Isabella could smell the fish market, though she couldn’t see it, and
she could hear the marketers shouting out the prices of their wares. Despite
her sadness, to suddenly hear so many people speaking Hindi all around her was
lovely, as if some central spring in her, which had been wound tight, could
suddenly relax. She breathed in and lifted her head to the bright sunlight.

She was home.

A bell rang on board for the last passengers to leave the
boat. The British flag snapped in the warm west wind and palm trees rustled.
What a different arrival this was compared to the one in London on a
bone-chilling November morning. Then she’d had no friends, no money and no
future. Now she had all three. But for Midge, she would have been very happy.

To say their disembarkation was awkward would be an
understatement. Only elderly Mrs Jefferies seemed not to notice the
undercurrents eddying around them all.

“So, Isabella. We will take Midge to Simla, then, when
your affairs are in order, you may come and collect him. Or we will bring him
to you.”

Isabella’s heart sank. This felt so terribly wrong.

“Midge?”

He sat in the back of the Jefferies’ carriage. Since their
last argument he hadn’t looked at her or spoken to her once.

“Midge?” Isabella repeated. But he didn’t answer. “I’ll
see you in a couple of months,” her voice sounded weak and her last word was
torn from her lips by a dry wind.

Their driver had lifted his whip and the horses moved off.
Mrs Jefferies looked over her shoulder.

“We are on the Canton Road at Simla. Ask anyone for the
house. We’ll look for you after the rains.”

“Come along, girls.” Lady Denier bustled up. “Isabella,
why are you crying?”

Isabella bit her lip hard, the pain overriding her tears.

“I’m not, Lady Denier, it’s just dust from the wheels.”

Lady Denier waved her hand in front of her face.

“Quite so. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced dust like
it.” She coughed delicately.

Isabella couldn’t help thinking Lady Denier was in for a
nasty shock if she thought this was bad. Isabella had seen storms of dust,
towers of red sand which spared no one. She wished there were one here now so
Midge couldn’t leave – so she’d have a chance to apologise and tell him how
much she loved him. His white face in the back of the Jefferies’ carriage was
more than she could bear.

She and Livia made their way to the Deniers’ carriage,
where Mrs Rodriguez waited. The Deniers had invited Isabella and Mrs Rodriguez
to travel with them to Pune and Livia had jumped on the idea.

“It’s only because she thinks you’ll keep Livia sweet
until she gets to the duke,” said Rose in a tight tone. “Don’t think it’s
because she likes you. She hasn’t even noticed you.”

“Why should I care?” Isabella had replied. It was hard to
summon the energy for anything now Midge had gone.

“Girls, did you organise your trunks before you came
down?” Mrs Rodriguez was dressed in a brown twill travelling outfit, with a wide-brimmed
straw hat.

“Yes, Mrs Rodriguez. Mama’s bearer is bringing them.”

“What, Isabella’s too?”

“Yes.”

“Isabella, you should have organised your own trunk. It’s
not for someone else’s servant to have to do that for you.”

Isabella scowled. “He said he was happy to.”

Mrs Rodriguez looked at her.

“That doesn’t mean you have to take him up on it. Don’t be
so lazy.”

Isabella looked away from her. From the way Mrs Rodriguez
acted you’d think it was the state of the Empire that was all Isabella’s fault
and not just the bad temper of one small boy.

“And why are you wearing a yellow silk dress instead of
the blue cotton? You know we’re travelling thirty miles today. What do you
think you will look like when we reach the hotel?”

Isabella thought the trip to Pune already felt
long and they hadn’t even started.

There were three carriages in their party, with three
bullock carts lumbering behind with the luggage. One carriage contained herself
and Mrs Rodriguez, one was for Eloise Molesey and her mother, and the third contained
the Deniers and Rose. The plan was for the carriages to travel together to Pune
and then Mrs Rodriguez and Isabella would divert for Rawalpindi, which was
another three weeks’ journey. Whenever they could, the girls manoeuvred
themselves into the same carriage. It had been four days since they’d left
Masulipatam heading inland. Isabella watched the flat parched land give way to
soft undulating hills sprinkled with green. This time a year ago she would have
sat up with the driver and shot partridge from her seat, but now she was happy
to listen to the girls’ idle chatter. It helped her to stop thinking about
Midge. She still couldn’t keep her eyes from the horizon. The carriages had all
taken the same route for the first part of their journey; Midge was only twelve
hours ahead of them. The girls’ chatter washed over her.

“Well you’ve only yourself to blame. I could have got it
into his drink about a thousand times since we left Mombasa. You’ve been so
wet.” Rose was looking down her nose at Eloise, who opened her vacant blue eyes
wide.

“That’s so unkind. It’s just that … well, imagine if
he’d caught me putting it in his drink. That would have been even worse.”

“I think this whole thing is ridiculous,” said Livia.
“Captain Lucas likes you already. You don’t need to worry about the potion any
more. You just have to make sure you go to all the dances in Pune and look your
own gorgeous self.”

Eloise went pink as the sky behind her head.

“I say. Do you really think so?”

“I do,” said Livia, but Isabella could see a shadow behind
her eyes as she forced herself to talk of things she knew she would never
experience. Dances, picnics, games of boules - none of that would be available
to her any more, once she was married. She would be a young girl married to an old
man; forced to sit with him while he fell into the easy sleep of old age or to
listen to his hoary old friends as they relived their time on the battlefield.

The sun was setting over the green plains that surrounded
them, throwing trees and bushes into deep blue shadow. A green ribbon of river
snaked into the distance and Isabella could see three vultures in the high pink
sky, circling over a kill. It was still very hot.

“Is this the only road to Pune?” asked Rose, craning her
head around to look down the dusty track in front of them. “It’s so quiet.” She
shivered. “I don’t think I’ve ever not seen a human being for such a long time.
I’m not sure I like it.”

“I haven’t been along this road before,” replied Isabella.
“I come from the north. We are in the south east. I know the countryside seems
empty, but it’s not really. It’s just that India is so much bigger than England. You’ll get used to it.”

“But what about if you want to go out visiting or
shopping? Does it take all day?” Rose looked horrified.

Isabella laughed. “No, of course not. Pune is a city like London. It will be hotter and cleaner.” Isabella could think of a few other things she
wanted to say about how much better Indian cities were than London, but she
thought it best if she didn’t. Most people thought that where they called home
was the best place on earth, herself included.

Rose snorted. “I can’t believe it’s cleaner.”

Isabella nodded. “I know but it’s true. There is a whole
caste of people whose job it is to keep the city clean. I’m not sure you have
that in London. I saw a dead body in the Thames once. That would never be
allowed here.”

“What’s a ‘caste’?” asked Livia.

“It’s a classification system for people.”

“Like working class and upper class?” Livia’s voice was
clipped.

Isabella nodded. “India has many castes, but the lowest
one is ‘the untouchables’. It is they who clean the streets.”

“Poor them,” said Rose, flapping her hand at the
mosquitoes that had come out the minute the sun had started to sink.

Strips of white cloud turned purple.

“You must cover yourselves up,” said Isabella, pulling her
shawl around her.

Livia stuck out her chin. “I like having bare arms.” She
held her arms out in front of her.

Isabella looked down at her own. Already brown they were
deepening to mahogany, much to the despair of Mrs Rodriguez, who thought pale
skin to be the height of fashion.

“So could Captain Lucas have taken this road too?” Eloise’s
face was pink with excitement.

Isabella nodded, smiling. “Yes.”

Livia nudged her. “Let’s hope we don’t bump into the
Jefferies.”

Isabella raised her eyes to heaven.

“Yes, I couldn’t agree more,” though she winced inside as
she said it.

“I thought Midge was your friend.” Rose glanced at her
sideways.

“He is. I’m just enjoying the break from him, that’s all.”

The carriages drew over the brow of a small hill dotted
with sand-coloured grass and deer. Below them was a hamlet, where they were to
stop for dinner.

The carriage drew to a halt. Livia’s face became animated
and she dug her elbow into Eloise’s side as two figures came out of the
guesthouse.

“It’s Captain Lucas.”

Eloise went white. “No. Where?”

“There, with another soldier. Oh my. They’re coming over
here.”

Captain Lucas’s kind and open face lit up when he saw
Eloise in the carriage.

“I say, Miss Eloise, how wonderful to see you.” He doffed
his helmet to the other girls. “I thought we were so far behind everyone, we’d
meet no one. I will speak to your mother and see if we might escort you
further.”

Isabella glanced at Eloise, who looked as if she had
momentarily lost the power of speech.