Chapter Twenty-Two
Sitting with Laura in the botanical gardens’ tearooms in the harsh light of day made Sophia’s nocturnal marriage seem something of a dream.
The reality of waking to a bright yellow band on the third finger of her left hand this morning was her proof. She fidgeted with her teacup, anything to keep her fingers away from playing with that same ring which now hung on a necklace hidden beneath her dress.
“Sit still,” Laura admonished.
Her fingers then thrummed a beat on the table. Laura raised her head to glare at her cousin over the easel. Sophia dropped her hands into her lap with a sigh.
Laura put down the paintbrush. “What on earth is wrong with you this morning?”
“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.” Perhaps she should casually mention that she got married last night – what would her cousin say to that? For a moment, an image of Samuel came to mind. Sophia was about to change the subject but Laura had already gone back to her painting.
“Why couldn’t we have had tea in our rooms?” Sophia asked.
“Our rooms don’t get the morning sun and, besides, I want to try my hand at some botanical subjects for my portfolio and,” Laura lowered her brush and leaned in, “I have an ulterior motive.”
She nodded to Sophia’s right. Members of the Ottoman envoy’s party were clustered in the corner of the pavilion, drinking from small, jewel-like, enameled cups. The aroma of dark, pungent coffee mingled with smoke from a strange looking device – a narrow glass vase, bulbous at its end, the top finished in silver and a hose ending at a terminal of brightly-painted porcelain.
“I’ve seen them here every day this week, and now I’m going to paint them as a surprise for – Captain Hardacre! What a delight to see you!”
Sophia watched Kit take her cousin’s proffered hand.
“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Laura… and Miss Sophia.”
Kit’s voice dropped half an octave, giving her name extra weight. She glared at him momentarily as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. The tingles absent from their midnight wedding kiss returned and settled around her chest, close to the gold ring between her breasts. His look made her conscious of it.
She seemed more aware of a lot of things since last night. The tearoom in the botanical gardens seemed more humid, the sound of staff serving customers seemed sharper as sound reflected off the multi-paned windows in the pavilion.
Laura, however, was oblivious to her tension. In fact, with her artist’s accoutrements with her, she was quite at home. She invited the captain to join them, and Sophia watched Kit choose the white wicker chair facing out into the gardens.
“Forgive my interruption, ladies. Miss Green, I hope to monopolize some of your time today. Professor Fenton has asked me to liaise with you on the details for the trip to Catallus.”
Sophia watched Kit’s face to see if she could discern any hidden meaning in his words but they were straightforward as was the request. Uncle Jonas had been buoyed by the idea of another archaeological exploration when Kit had approached him about it – particularly to an island settled as long ago as the Phoenicians but about which little was known. Now that Jonas had fully recovered from his attack of gout, he was champing at the bit to get back into the field.
Sophia looked to Laura who was finishing her tea.
“If Laura doesn’t mind…”
“Not at all. I have my easel here. I shall be happy so long as the light remains good. You go and I’ll paint – but don’t elope.”
She felt the color drain from her face. Laura noticed and laughed.
“Oh, you do take things too seriously! All I meant was be sure you’re back in plenty of time to get ready for the Hoyle’s dinner party tonight.”
Outside, the salt-tinged air mixed with the fragrant scent of flowers in bloom, and she breathed it in with relief.
“I hadn’t realized how much tobacco stank until I smelled what the envoy’s men were smoking,” she said as they walked down a shell grit path out to the street.
“It’s shisha,” said Kit. “The tobacco is mixed with molasses and vaporized in the nargiles.”
“You seem to know a lot about it.
“I’ve been exposed to it.”
Kit half-smiled and put a hand at her back to urge her safely by an approaching donkey and cart. “I see your curiosity has returned. Well, now I’m at your disposal. By the end of today, you’ll understand my cloak and dagger mystery.”
*
He had been up since dawn readying himself for Sophia’s inevitable questions. He promised he would answer them and he would. He would simply approach it as an academic exercise – something as dead and harmless as the ancient civilizations she researched. As long as the questions never touched on the personal, he could answer them without damage to his soul.
Palermo had suddenly become stifling with Selim Omar in residence – the stench of the nargile was only one of the impositions that grated on him. Kit couldn’t be certain – not with any evidence that would satisfy Bentinck, at any rate – but he was sure the Calliope and her crew were being watched.
More importantly, he suspected Sophia and her cousin were being watched also. He had half-thought about mentioning it to Samuel Cappleman and Jonas Fenton but the professor was too focused on his antiquities – Kit suspected he would struggle to identify the present year. Cappleman was a babe in the woods – so intent on his Grand Tour, so eager to sample the delights of other cultures, he was heedless to the dangers.
And there were many, which was the reason he had suggested a week-long trip to Catallus. The island contained just a small fishing village but possessed a wealth of unexploited ruins to keep the antiquarian and his assistant happy – and safer. Besides, the fishing had been poor recently, and any payment Jonas offered for laborers would be welcomed by the islanders.
“Captain aboard!”
He nodded to the day watch and directed Sophia to his quarters. He opened the cabinet holding blue leather-bound logs, different to the oxblood red journals that identified the Calliope’s naval records. He withdrew one and placed it on the mapping table in front of Sophia.
“I’m sure this will create more questions than answers, but it’s a place to start.” After a moment’s hesitation, he dropped a hand on her shoulder. “I’m going topside to talk to Elias.”
There was more than just business that took him back on deck. He didn’t want to see Sophia’s face as she read the accounts for herself, nor did he need to see what was in those volumes again. It was he who’d personally written down the names and details of those rescued.
Some of them were so traumatized that it took days to simply get a name and home village out of them. But others needed to talk – it was a soul-cleansing catharsis in which they recounted their mistreatment and terror. They told their stories and he would listen. Some seemed relieved he didn’t recoil in horror. Kit imagined others would later on. It would be a strong person who didn’t weep or throw up at their tales. But he understood – oh, how he understood.
“It would have been easier to just tell her you were a pirate,” noted Elias, moving over slightly so Kit could take a look at the charts he was examining.
Kit ignored the comment and focused his attention to the map.
“What are our options?”
“I’m going through Jonathan’s notes. He’s going to be missed on this voyage, but he’s left us a lot to work with. Starting on Catallus puts us within a day’s reach of both Tunis and Pantelleria.”
“Good. Our strike will have to be lightning fast – no hanging around to see the damage. It will have to be accurate from the first fusillade.”
“Well, we’re ready. The men have been practicing with the cannon. Even in full tacking maneuvers, we’re down to less than eleven minutes. Have you given any thought to that Greek fire concoction Miss Green told you about?”
He hadn’t. His nights were filled with dreams of Sophia but, in them, he was not exploring her mind. He wasn’t going to confess to that.
“No, but I take it you have been thinking about it?” he replied instead.
Elias shrugged. “I’ve been trying to break it down based on the characteristics she described. I’m working on it with Giorgio. We have some ideas we’re going to test on Catallus.”