The Night's Dawn Trilogy (79 page)

The train compartment’s PA came on to announce they were pulling in to Colsterworth Station. Joshua stretched his limbs, and
loaded a formal etiquette program into his neural nanonics. He had found it in
Lady Mac
’s memory cores; his father must have visited the planet at some time, though he had never mentioned it. The program might
well turn out to be a saviour, country-dwelling Norfolk was supposed to be even more stuffy than swinging cosmopolitan Boston.
Pursing his lips at the prospect, Joshua shook Dahybi Yadev’s shoulder. “Come on, cancel the program. We’ve arrived.”

Dahybi’s face lost its narcotic expression, and he squinted out of the window. “This is it?”

“This is it.”

“It looks like a field with a couple of houses in it.”

“Don’t yell that kind of comment about, for God’s sake. Here.” He datavised a copy of the etiquette program over. “Keep that
in primary mode. We don’t want to annoy our benefactor.”

Dahybi ran through some of the social jurisprudence listed in the program. “Bloody hell, I think
Lady Mac
fell through a time warp to get here.”

Joshua rang for the steward to carry their cases. The etiquette program said the man should be tipped five per cent of the
ticket price, or a shilling, whichever was the larger sum.

Colsterworth Station consisted of two stone platforms, covered with broad wooden canopies supported by ornate wrought-iron
pillars. The waiting-room and ticket office were built from red brick, and a row of metal brackets along the front wall were
used to hold big hanging baskets full of bright flowering plants. Appearance was a priority to the sta-tionmaster; the scarlet
and cream paintwork was kept gleaming the whole year round, brasswork was polished, and his staff were always smartly turned
out.

Such persistence had paid off handsomely today. He was standing next to the heir to Cricklade herself, Louise Ka-vanagh, who
had remarked how nice it all looked.

The morning train from Boston pulled in slowly, and the stationmaster checked his watch. “Thirty seconds late.”

Louise Kavanagh inclined her head graciously at the stout little man. On her other side William Elphinstone shuffled his feet
impatiently. She silently prayed for him not to make a complete mess of things. He was so impetuous at times, and he looked
totally out of place in his grey suit; field working clothes were much more apposite on him.

For herself, she’d carefully chosen a pale lavender dress with puff sleeves to wear. Nanny had helped to pleat her hair into
an elaborate weave at the back of her head which ended in a long pony-tail. Hopefully the combination would give her a suitably
dignified appearance.

The train halted, its first three coaches taking up the entire length of the platform. Doors banged open noisily, and passengers
started to climb down. She straightened her back to get a better look at the people emerging from the first-class coach.

“There they are,” William Elphinstone said.

Louise wasn’t entirely sure what she’d been expecting, although she was pretty sure in her own mind that starship captains
were wise, serious, and mature responsible men, perhaps a bit like her father (except without the temper). Who else would
be entrusted with such a fearsome responsibility? What a captain did not look like, even in her most fantastical dreams, was
a young man with strong regular features, six foot tall, wearing a smart, exotically stylish uniform that emphasized his powerful
build. But there was the silver star on his shoulder, plain for all the world to see.

Louise swallowed hard, tried to remember the words she was supposed to say, and stepped forwards with a polite smile in place.
“Captain Calvert, I’m Louise Kavanagh; my father apologizes for not being here to greet you in person, but the estate is very
busy right now and requires his full attention. So I’d like to welcome you to Cricklade myself, and hope you enjoy your stay.”
Which was almost what she’d rehearsed, but there was something about enjoying his train journey which had been missed out.
Oh, well…

Joshua took her hand in an emphatic grip. “That’s very kind of you, Louise. And I must say I consider myself most fortunate
that your father is so occupied, because there simply cannot be a nicer way of being welcomed to Cricklade than by a young
lady as beautiful as yourself.”

Louise knew her cheeks would be colouring, and wanted to turn and hide. What a juvenile reaction. He was only being polite.
But so utterly charming. And he sounded sincere. Could he really think that about her? Her discipline had gone all to pieces.
“Hello,” she said to Dahybi Yadev. Which was so dreadfully gauche. Her blush deepened. She realized Joshua was still holding
her hand.

“My starflight engineering officer,” Joshua said, with a slight bow.

Louise recovered, and introduced William Elphinstone as an estate manager, not mentioning he was only a trainee. Which he
should have been grateful for, but she got the distinct impression he wasn’t terribly impressed with the star-ship captain.

“We have a carriage laid on to take you to the manor,” William said. He signalled to the driver to take Joshua’s bags from
the steward.

“That’s really most thoughtful of you,” Joshua told Louise.

Dimples appeared in her cheeks. “This way.” She gestured to the platform exit.

Joshua thought the waiting carriage looked like an oversized pram fitted with modern lightweight wheels. But the two black
horses moved it along at a fair clip, and the ride over the rutted track was comfortably smooth. There hadn’t been much to
Colsterworth, it was a rural market town with very few industries; the countryside economy revolved around the farms. Its
houses were mostly built from locally quarried stone with a bluish tinge. Doors and windows were almost always arched.

When they rode down the busy High Street, pedestrians nudged one another and glanced over as the carriage went by. At first
Joshua thought they were looking at him and Dahybi, but then he realized it was Louise who drew their attention.

Outside Colsterworth the rolling countryside was a patchwork of small fields separated by immaculately layered hedges. Streams
wound down through the gentle valleys, while spinneys clung to the rounded heights and deeper folds. The wheat and barley
had already been harvested, he saw. Plenty of haystacks were dotted about, steeply sloping tops netted against the expected
winter winds. Tractors were ploughing the stubble back into the rich red soil before drilling the second crop. There would
be just enough time for the stalks to ripen before the long autumn and winter seasons began.

“You don’t have any proscription against power tractors, then?” Joshua asked.

“Certainly not,” William Elphinstone replied. “We’re a stable society, Captain, not a backward one. We use what ever is appropriate
to maintain the status quo, and give people a decent standard of living at the same time. Using horses to plough every field
would be pure drudgery. That’s not what Norfolk is about. Our founders wanted pastoral life to be enjoyable for all.” To Joshua’s
ears he sounded defensive, but then he had been on edge since they’d been introduced.

“Where does all the power come from?” Joshua asked.

“Solar cells are sufficient for domestic utilities, but ninety per cent of the electricity used for industry and agriculture
is geothermal. We buy in thermal-potential fibres from the Confederation and drill them three or four miles down into the
mantle. Most towns have five or six heat shafts; they’re virtually maintenance free, and the fibres last for a couple of centuries.
It’s a much neater solution than building hydro dams everywhere and flooding valleys.”

Interesting how he said Confederation, Joshua thought, almost as if Norfolk wasn’t a part of it.

“All this must seem terribly cumbersome to you, I expect,” Louise said.

“Not at all,” Joshua answered. “What I’ve seen so far is admirable. You should visit some of the so-called advanced worlds
I’ve been to. Technology comes with a very high price in terms of society, they have dreadful levels of crime and vice. Some
urban areas have decayed into complete no-go zones.”

“Three people were murdered on Kesteven last year,” Louise said.

William Elphinstone frowned as if to object, but let it pass.

“I think your ancestors got your constitution about right,” Joshua said.

“Hard on people who are sick,” Dahybi Yadev observed.

“There aren’t many illnesses,” William Elphinstone said. “Our lifestyle means we’re a very healthy people. And our hospitals
can cope with most accidents.”

“Including cousin Gideon,” Louise said slyly.

Joshua pressed down on a smile as William Elphinstone gave her a curtly censorious look. The girl wasn’t quite as meek as
he’d first supposed. They were sitting opposite each other in the carriage, which gave him a good opportunity to study her.
He had thought that she and William pain-in-the-arse Elphinstone were an item, but judging from the way she virtually ignored
him it didn’t seem too likely. William El-phinstone appeared none too happy with the cold-shoulder treatment, either.

“Actually, William isn’t being entirely honest,” she went on. “We don’t catch diseases because most of our first-comer ancestors
were recipients of geneering before they settled here. It stands to reason, on a planet which deliberately excludes the most
advanced medical treatments it’s wise to protect yourself in advance. So in that respect we don’t quite match up to the simplistic
pastoral ideal. You probably couldn’t have built a society as successful as Norfolk before geneering; people would have insisted
on continuing technical and medical research to better their lot.”

William Elphinstone made a show of turning his head and staring out over the fields.

“Fascinating idea,” Joshua said. “You can only have stability once you’ve passed a certain technological level, and flux is
the natural order until that happens. Are you going to take politics at university?”

Her lips depressed fractionally. “I don’t think I’ll be going. Women don’t, generally. And there aren’t many universities
anyway; there’s no research to be done. Most of my family go to agricultural colleges, though.”

“And will you be joining your relatives there?”

“Maybe. Father hasn’t said. I’d like to. Cricklade is going to be mine one day, you see. I want to be more than just a figurehead.”

“I’m sure you will be, Louise. I can’t imagine you as just a figurehead for anything.” He was surprised at how earnest his
voice had become.

Louise cast her eyes down to see she was knotting her fingers in her lap in a most unladylike manner. Whatever was making
her babble like this?

“Is this Cricklade now?” Joshua asked. The fields had given way to larger expanses of parkland between the small woods. Sheep
and cattle were grazing placidly, along with some xenoc bovine-analogue that looked similar to a very hairy deer, with fat
legs and hemispherical hoofs.

“We’ve been riding through the Cricklade estate since we left town, actually,” William Elphinstone said snidely.

Joshua gave Louise an encouraging smile. “As far as the eye can see, is it?”

“Yes.”

“Then I can see why you love it so much. If I ever settle down, I’d want it to be in a land like this.”

“Any chance we can see some roses?” Dahybi Yadev asked loudly.

“Yes, of course,” Louise said, suddenly brisk. “How dreadfully remiss of me. Cousin Kenneth said this was your first time
here.” She turned round and tapped the driver on his shoulder. The two of them exchanged a few words. “There’s a grove beyond
the forest up ahead,” she said. “We’ll stop there.”

The grove took up ten acres on a northern-facing slope. To catch the suns, Louise explained. It was marked out by a dry-stone
wall that was host to long patches of moss-analogue which sprouted miniature pink flowers. The flat stones themselves were
often crumbling from frost erosion; little attempt had been made at repairs except in the worst sections of subsidence. In
one corner of the grove there was a long barn with a thatched roof; moss had clawed its way into the reeds, loosening the
age-blackened bundles. New wooden pallets stacked with what looked like thousands of conical white plant pots were just visible
through the barn’s open doorway.

Still, dry air magnified the grove’s placid composure, adding to the impression of genteel decay. If it hadn’t been for the
perfectly regimented rows of plants, Joshua would have believed the grove had been neglected, simply treated as a hobby by
an indulgent landowner rather than the vital industry it was.

Norfolk’s weeping rose was unarguably the most famous plant in the Confederation. In its natural state it was a thorn-less
rambling bush that favoured well-drained peaty soil. But when cultivated and planted in groves it was trained up wire trellises
three metres high. The jade-green leaves were palm sized, reminiscent of terrestrial maples with their deep serrations, their
tips coloured a dull red.

But it was the flowers which drew Joshua’s scrutiny; they were yellow-gold blooms, twenty-five centimetres in diameter with
a thick ruff of crinkled petals hugging a central onion-shaped carpel pod. Each plant in the grove had produced thirty-five
to forty flowers, standing proud on fleshy green stems as thick as a man’s thumb. Under Duke’s unremitting glare they had
acquired a spectral lemon-yellow corona.

The four of them walked a little way down the mown grass between the rows. Careful pruning of the bushes had ensured that
each flower was fully exposed to the sunlight, none of them overlapped.

Joshua pressed his toe into the wiry grass, feeling the solid earth. “It’s very dry,” he said. “Will there be enough water
to fill them out?”

“It never rains at midsummer,” Louise said. “Not on the inhabited islands, anyway. Convection takes all the clouds up to the
poles; most of the ice-caps melt under the deluge, but the temperature is still only a couple of degrees above freezing. It’s
considered frightfully bad luck if it even drizzles here in the week before Midsummer’s Day. The roses store up all the moisture
they need for fruition in their roots during springtime.”