“No.” Jane choked on the word. “No. You can’t take her away from me.”
“I can.” He folded his arms in satisfaction. “I will. I already have, Jane. Your things are packed. You’ll be escorted to the train station tomorrow. Mrs. Blickstall will accompany you to Nottingham.”
Jane stared straight ahead of her, too dazed to cry. Her lungs burned. She couldn’t think of anything at all. If she were not here, what would Emily do? Her sister wouldn’t have books to read or companions near her age. And that was to say nothing about what would happen if Titus decided to bring in yet another charlatan to cure Emily’s condition.
She took a deep breath. “I’ll go, but if I do, there will be no doctors. No attempts to experiment on her.”
“Jane,” Titus said in a tired voice, “you cannot dictate terms. You are not your sister’s guardian. I am. I am responsible for her, and I will determine what is best for her welfare.”
If you need me, Oliver had said.
That thought filled her with a terrible, wistful hope. Surely this counted as need. Surely this was a situation where his promise would require him to return, and if he did…
He was not a full hour gone from her life, and she was already contemplating bleating for him like a little lost lamb. As if she’d been a foolish child when she’d told him that she was strong enough. Her lip curled, and she contemplated her uncle.
In the orangish light of the lamp, he looked old and tired. The lines on his forehead seemed gouged into his skin, deep dark ruts marking a lifetime of fretting.
Jane raised her chin. She’d beaten Bradenton, by God, and he was stronger than Titus.
She could still feel Oliver’s kiss on her lips. She imagined a box made of carbonized steel—steel as strong as the girders of a steamship, steel as thick as an engine boiler, able to withstand the heat and pressure of a thousand infernos. She could lock all Titus’s ineffectual rage away forever inside such strength.
She put the feeling of Oliver’s kiss inside the box and closed it tightly so that nothing could happen to it. While she could remember what it felt like, she was not alone. He’d said so, and she believed it.
She lifted her head and stared into her uncle’s eyes. Her greatest fear had come true, but…this was freedom, not disaster. She had no need to pretend any longer. Not with anyone. She held Oliver’s kiss close, until she drove the tremor from her hands. Until she was calm enough to speak without croaking.
“No,” she said softly. “That is not what is going to happen.”
He blinked at her in confusion. “You can say no all you wish, but you have no legal power.”
“No,” Jane repeated. “You are wrong. You’re Emily’s guardian, but you aren’t mine. You have no way to control what I do.”
He gave her a haughty look. “Speak sense for once, because I do not take your meaning.”
He couldn’t win. Why had she never seen it before? She’d been so busy hiding in the shadows that she’d ceded all her best weapons.
“I don’t have to go to our aunt’s house,” Jane said. “I have money. I can do anything I wish. You haven’t noticed because all I’ve wished for is my sister’s happiness and wellbeing. You’re so set on believing me disobedient. You’ve not realized that I have been trying to obey your edicts. Think what I could do, if I chose to be difficult.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“If I wished, I could purchase a house next to this one. I could live there with a string of lovers. I could purchase an advertisement in the newspaper announcing that you suffered from a malady of the brain.”
As she spoke, he turned white. “You wouldn’t.”
She leaned forward. “I could tell everyone I met about your sordid medical practices. I’d let them know how unfit a guardian you were. I could make your life impossible. That’s who I am, if you haven’t noticed. I’m an impossible girl, and you cannot rid yourself of me. Not with threats. Not with words. Those are my terms.”
He stared at her in mute, baffled confusion, as if she had suddenly transformed into a bear and he didn’t know whether to scream and run or fetch a rifle. “I will not have you in my household.”
“Then it’ll be the newspaper,” she said with a shrug. “And—”
“But you may visit,” he squeaked. “Once a month?”
She stopped and looked at him, and he managed a weak smile.
“I can’t keep you out of Cambridge,” he said, looking down at the desk, “but I can dictate who Emily sees.”
If Jane bought a house in Cambridge, that would mean the end of any freedom at all for Emily. Their uncle would be guarding her too closely, trying to keep them apart. And—Jane realized—she couldn’t really carry out her threats. If she did, she’d have no leverage on him. Even Titus might prove dangerous if he had nothing to lose.
At least this way he was negotiating.
“You’ll go to my sister,” Titus said. “You’ll do as she says. You won’t make a scene or a fuss. You see Jane, I do care for your welfare even if you do not. I want you to safeguard your reputation, not throw it away in some desperate attempt to lead your sister down your path.”
“My path.” Her cheeks burned. “For all you talk of it, you don’t know anything about my path. You’ve never tried to really help. You’ve just given me orders.”
He waved a hand. “Spare me the histrionics.”
She caught hold of herself. She brought the shrouds of her dignity about her and glared at him.
“The truth is, Jane,” he said, “that if you hadn’t had me to look out for you, I do not know what you would be doing. Go to my sister. Find a husband.” He sighed wearily. “God, you girls tire me so.”
She would never convince him. “I’ll see Emily every other week,” Jane said. “And she’ll write as often as she wishes.”
“I will monitor the correspondence.”
She’d expected nothing less. She shrugged at this. “You’ll stop torturing her with those dreadful physicians,” she said.
“No. If I hear of someone who can do her good—”
“Then you may speak to me. I’ll want proof—testimonials from former patients who have a malady similar to Emily’s, patients that the physician has helped. The lot of them are far too quick to experiment, and heedless of the pain they cause. And you’ll ask Emily if she wishes to proceed.”
He snorted. “Your sister does not know what is good for her because you coddle her. This is why nineteen-year-old girls have guardians, Jane—to make them do the things they would not choose on their own. Frankly, you’ve just proven that you’re not any better.”
She glared at him. “This is not negotiable, Titus. It is either that, or I will embarrass you. Badly.”
His nostrils flared and he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Very well. Before I embark on a course of treatment, I will…consult.” He made a face as he talked, his lips lifting away from his teeth as if he were a snarling dog. “God. When will this ever end?”
He could claim weariness as loudly as he wished so long as he left Emily alone.
Jane nodded.
“Then we are in agreement,” she said.
“You’ll leave tomorrow.”
By the time she crawled into bed, Jane had lost the ability to make sense of the world.
She had let everyone know that she was not as stupid as she’d pretended. Oliver was gone. On the morning, she was leaving Emily behind and going to live with her aunt in Nottingham. She’d held Titus to a bargain, wresting concessions from him with threats.
She wasn’t sure who she was any longer. She seemed both bigger and colder than the person she had been even a few nights ago.
There was only one certainty in her life.
Even though Jane was tired, she waited, fighting the waves of weariness that threatened to drag her down into sleep. It took almost fifteen minutes before her door swung open.
“Jane?” Emily’s voice was small in th
e darkness.
Jane turned to the sound.
“Can I—”
Jane didn’t even wait for her sister to finish her sentence. She pulled back the covers, and Emily ducked under them and joined her. Her sister made a mass of warmth under the blankets.
It had been a long time since Emily had climbed into bed with Jane. Not since she was eleven and afraid of thunderstorms. Back then, she would have made her sister a little cocoon out of coverlets to try and keep her safe.
She wasn’t going to be able to keep her safe any longer. She’d done her best, but she knew what Titus was.
“I’m sorry,” Emily said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get you sent away. I just wanted to—needed to—get away. And I kept going. Twice a week, and then three times… I’m so stupid.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“How can I not? It’s my fault that this is happening. I knew what Titus was, what he would do, and I still—”
Jane tried to put her finger over her sister’s mouth. In the darkness, she missed and jabbed her cheek instead.
“Ow.”
“Oh, dear.” She converted the motion into a shoulder pat instead. “It’s not your fault, Emily. It’s Titus’s fault.”
“But—”
“He’s an adult. All his mental faculties are in functional order, no matter how flawed they might be. He doesn’t have to be unreasonable; he just chooses it. You didn’t force him to act irrationally. It’s ridiculous to say that you are at fault when he’s the one making demands.”
Emily let out a long breath. “I’ll try to be good,” she finally said. “To reach him with reasonableness.” She laughed. “I’m not sure it’s possible.”
“I’ll visit,” Jane said. “I’ve worked it out with him. I’ll still see you. I’ll be able to slip you money, so that if you ever need it—if you have to bribe physicians yourself—you’ll have it. You have a little more than a year until he’s no longer your guardian. Once you turn twenty-one, there is nothing he can do to hold you here.”
“I know,” Emily said. “I love you, Jane, but…” She swallowed. “Don’t worry for me. I shall manage on my own.”
Jane smoothed her sister’s hair. “Who knows? Maybe Titus will get better.”
Emily laughed. “Maybe. And maybe he… But no. I won’t make fun of him.”
“There’s a plant on my desk,” Jane said. “A cactus. I want you to keep it while I’m gone. So you’ll have something of me.”
“Oh, God, Jane. I always forget to water plants. I’m going to kill it.”
“Forget to water this one.” Jane smiled. “You’re supposed to.”
Her sister nodded and curled up against her.
“Was it worth it?” Jane asked. “This man you were slipping out to meet… Was he worth it?”
Emily paused. “He’s going to be a barrister. He asked me to marry him. I’ve not given him my answer yet. I was waiting for some kind of a sign. And now this thing has happened with Titus.”
“Titus is never a sign of anything but Titus,” Jane said. “Does your barrister love you?”
Emily waited even longer before answering. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “It’s hard for me to read him. He says that I’m pretty.”
“Anyone would say that, silly. You are. But he was meeting you in secret. I can’t like that. Is he a rake?”
“He’s the farthest thing from a rake. I told you, he’s gentle. Except when he’s not. When he’s angry, he speaks his mind quite clearly.”
“Does this not-rakish gentleman have a name?”
She could feel her sister stiffen beside her with some inexplicable tenseness. “He does.”
Was it someone Jane knew? Someone she had mentioned? Not the Marquess of Bradenton, she prayed. Let it not be him. But she didn’t ask. She didn’t push. She simply waited. And after about half a minute, Emily continued.
“It’s Anjan,” Emily said. “Anjan Bhattacharya.”
Jane’s eyes widened in surprise. There were a thousand responses she could give. She mulled them all over and finally settled on one.
“Tell me,” she said sleepily. “Tell me all about him. Does he say your name the way you say his?”
Her sister pondered this. “He told me once that my guardian should hold me precious. But Mama didn’t. Papa didn’t. Titus, oddly enough, has come closest, and he, well….” She sighed and turned in the bed. “That leaves only you, Jane. You’re the only one who has ever thought me a treasure.”
Jane gathered her sister in her arms, holding her close. “Of course, Emily. Of course I do.”
“So who did you have?”
Jane’s throat tightened. Emily had never asked that before. She’d always been the younger sister, never thinking that Jane might need someone, too. Jane shook her head numbly.
“And now you’re going away.” Emily’s own voice was hoarse. “Promise me that you’ll take as good care of yourself as you did of me. Promise that, and I’ll manage to take care of myself.”
“Emily.”
But her little sister kissed her fingertips and set them against Jane’s forehead. “Promise. Promise that you’ll do it.”
Jane folded Emily’s hand in her own. “I promise,” she whispered.
Chapter Sixteen
Anjan Bhattacharya hadn’t known how much he cared until Emily stopped coming. The first day she’d not appeared at their agreed-upon meeting, he wandered up the banks of the brook where they normally walked. He strolled down the other side, where there was no path, only unbroken fields boot-high in winter grasses.
Maybe she’d not been able to get away.
He walked and he waited. After an hour and a half passed, he left.
He waited the second day at the usual time. He waited and he waited and he waited until his feet were sore from standing. He waited until the sun slid from the sky and kissed the horizon, until even his vast well of hope had begun to run dry.
On the third day, a servant was there for him. She frowned at Anjan. “Are you…uh…Mr….uh…”
“Yes,” he replied, because he answered to Mr. Uh almost as often as he did to his own name.
“This is for you,” she said, holding out a square of paper. He broke the seal and unfolded the letter.
Dear Anjan, Emily had written. My uncle has discovered everything. I’ve tried twice, and I can’t get away to see you. I might be able to make it one day, but I can’t ask you to wait for weeks on end on such hopes.
The world, he decided, was vastly unfair.
I have been considering everything you said the last time we spoke. I enjoyed the story you told me, but I’m not sure what to do about it yet.
Emily
He folded the paper carefully. She was considering. He could guess what that meant. The Law Tripos would be administered in a few months, and after that, he’d be gone. He needed proximity, not consideration.
If he were another man, he would march up to her uncle’s house and demand to see her.
He suspected that if he tried, he’d be shot. Or thrown in gaol and accused of some horrendous crime. Nobody would believe him when he said he just wanted to talk to her.
She’d been a bright spot in his day. And now…
He started back toward town.
He was beginning to get angry. Not at her, at a fate that taunted him with something so lovely, and then just as it seemed to be within his reach, snatched it away. Fate was cruel.
He passed through the gates of his college in a black study.
By now, most of his classmates were used to him. If they were the sort to make remarks, they rarely did it around him. He made his way across the green, scowling at the ground.
“Ho, Batty!” a man called.
Anjan almost didn’t stop. He took three strides.
“Batty, where are you going?”
Ah, yes. Batty was him. He halted. Before he looked around, he found his smile. Even now, he could put it on his face with so little
effort. It wouldn’t do to scowl at a man just for being friendly. And George Lirington was one of the good ones—one of the people who talked to Anjan, who had first invited him to play cricket. He had even talked his father into finding Anjan a position.
“Batty,” Lirington said, “where were you today? We needed a bowler. We were desperate without you.”
“Lirington,” Anjan spoke as pleasantly as he could. “You look as if you’ve just come from the cricket field. Did they have you bowling, then?”
“Yes, which is why we lost.”
His friend smiled, and began to describe the game in detail, acting out the most important points. Anjan was Batty because Bhattacharya had too many syllables. He’d told one man his first name; the fellow had blinked, and then had immediately dubbed him John. That’s who they thought he was: John Batty. These well-meaning English boys had taken his name as easily, and with as much jovial friendship, as their fathers had taken his country.
And Emily had called him Bhattacharya. He’d fallen a little bit in love with her the moment she’d said his name as if it had value.
His fist clenched, but he kept on smiling.
Oliver didn’t think of Jane much. In the last week of January, he managed to keep his thoughts of her to a minimum—a few wistful imaginings at night, wondering what might have happened between them if matters had been different. If she’d had no need to drive suitors away. If she’d been a legitimate daughter of a well-respected family. If he’d been able to court her.
Court. Ha. He didn’t think about anything so sedate as courting her. His thoughts ran darker and deeper, starting from their kiss and ending against stone walls and thick trees. His thoughts ran far ahead of his sensibilities, until he had to take the problem in hand to solve it. But after, when sanity returned…
He still couldn’t imagine Jane in plain white and demure pearls. So he made himself give up that fantasy.
In February, he scarcely thought of Jane at all. He didn’t have time to think of her. Parliament was sitting once more. The queen herself addressed the nation’s lawmakers and urged them to extend the franchise. The work began in earnest. Oliver hashed out his plan with Minnie, his brother’s wife, who had a head for strategy; between them, they planned a series of dinners. Working men from all over the country were brought in by train. Oliver gave short two-day courses on etiquette and the workings of politics. The men then ate with dukes and duchesses, barons and baronesses. Members of Parliament sat down for an hour with bakers.