with.”
“Perhaps it may someday be so, but you needn’t be the first young lady to test the waters. I know it must seem unfair at times, given that a young man may do as he likes, when he likes. The simple fact is that you would incur harm to your reputation, which is not so trifling as one might be inclined to think. Perhaps you fail to understand how much more difficult your life would be under those circumstances.”
“I do understand. Perhaps I do not care for those things; the trappings of civilized life by which we are all confined. One might be just as happy with nothing, than be the prisoner wife of some ….”
“I very much doubt you would be content with nothing. Far from the simplicity of the farmer’s life which is reliant on large families, I might point out, you would be utterly alone. I cannot imagine that absence of any human companionship would suit you.”
“Oh, blast it. I despise convention!”
“My recommendation, my dear, if you cannot imagine marriage for convention’s sake, is to find someone whose company you truly enjoy. Ally yourself with someone who sees you for who you are, and is not completely terrified by what he finds.”
“Thank-you very much indeed.”
“Not all men are so broad-minded as I. God hammered me as differently as he did you and your brother. I do not regret allowing you your head, except that you seem to be having so much difficulty in deciding on your happiness in life. Society is what it is, else, you would be one of my star officers, and your brother would be freer to pursue his desires as well.”
The mention of Alexander brought Isabel’s childhood memories flooding back. Their mother had often noted that it seemed as if “God had mixed up” their souls, for he only seemed to have interest in the arts and clothing. Isabel, only in climbing trees and catching frogs.
How many times had Alex finished her embroidery for her, or fixed her hair after an especially exciting adventure? How many times had she bloodied the noses of boys who had tried to abuse her brother?
She still had not shown her father the letter she’d gotten from Alex a fortnight past, in which he wrote of his plans to open a ladies’ boutique in Paris. She was happy that he had found his place in Europe, instead of back home, but she could not entirely predict what view her father might take of it.
He wanted Alex to be content in life as well. He had never pressed him to join the military. Knowing as he did of some notorious cases of hangings for what were termed “unnatural crimes”, it was only wise.
“I’m sorry Papa, I don’t mean to be such a contrarian. It seems to be an uncontrollable urge. I suppose, though, if a man came along whose company I could tolerate, I might be inclined to consider it.”
Abington rolled his own eyes theatrically, but refrained from pointing out the obvious to his daughter. He raised his long frame to its standing height, and kissed his daughter on the forehead.
“I think you might consider apologizing to the major, even if you do not believe you ought. He is to be my right arm, and will be here frequently. It is my desire that he should take command here after I decide to retire. Thus, you may assure yourself that he has my highest confidence.”
“I shall do my best to overcome, Papa, truly.” Frankly, stitching a ball gown together out of cheese sounded a great deal easier to her than apologizing to Macconnach.
“Good. I suppose,” he sighed, “you ought to go and ready yourself to ride after the infant. You must exercise caution when you are away from the protection of the army, though. The major will do his best to keep you safe. As his duties must remain somewhat classified, I cannot send anyone else along with you. You will have to be reliant on the goodwill of the village men who ride with you as well.”
“I do wish you would explain all this nonsense a little better, if you’ll pardon my disbelief.”
“I think I’d better leave that to Macconnach. He did tell you a great deal, but you must relax your doubting nature a little in order to actually understand it.” He smiled and patted her cheek. “You’re an intelligent creature. I’ve no doubt that you will be able to come to terms with this upending of your logic.”
ॐ
He could, of course, tell her all about his own evolution in thought, something which had begun years ago, as he’d regularly read some pamphlets from the Royal Geological Society.
Aside from the usual oddball discoveries, and crackpot theories, of late, there had been other minutiae. Some of these had come in the form of detailed dispatches from the HMS Beagle, and he had found those alone awe-inspiring.
Along with those papers, which had arrived during the time his wife was slowly losing her battle, there had also come some other papers from the same source: his wife’s brother.
These were from the society that he belonged to, which had just been officially gathered and named: The Royal Society for the Investigation and Application of the Paranormal. It was a mouthful, to be sure, and was commonly referred to as the RSI, for the few who were privy to its existence.
He happened to fall into that crowd, as a senior officer for the Crown, but he was on uncertain footing as regards his daughter, and now this head man, Arpan. He’d allowed the major to take the lead on the explanations, purely because of a regulatory loophole.
Macconnach was exempted from the usual ban imposed on “advertising” of the supernatural abilities which he possessed. This protection for the major had been necessary in order to allow him to do his work, and that his family was already well aware of what he was capable. He was only disallowed from speaking of his official missions for the Crown.
The other regulations were a bit of an annoyance, but since Macconnach was technically considered a weapon of some secrecy, Abington had little choice but to adhere.
He had been merely grateful that he’d snapped up Macconnach, and not some dismal mystical fool, or worse, a civilian for whom he would have had to make extra allowances. Rather, he’d gotten a hardy, practical man whose temper was even enough to withstand Isabel and her assaults.
Abington sent word to the stables for Isabel’s young mare to be saddled and ready for kit. He sent his daughter to pack, and called for Ranajit. The butler, who was of an age to Abington, eased into the room.
“Yes, General?”
“Ranajit, we’ll need to ask the kitchen to draw up several days of provisions for…several people. And I would like you to bring me that pepper-box from my rooms.”
Ranajit bowed his usual bow, and slipped away, but Abington could sense the other man’s disapproval. He would never trust a priceless daughter to be safe, alone in the company of men. But Ranajit was a protective old hen who loved Isabel as if she was his own.
Abington was going to have to satisfy himself with giving her the little pistol, the pepper-box, which he had procured in London. He’d recently fired it once or twice, to gauge its trueness. Pistols were merely effective at close range, he reminded himself with a shudder.
Isabel could keep it tucked away somewhere on her person, quite safely, but he’d have to task Macconnach to teach her its use. It was no good rejecting the notion that there was only one species of predator abroad in India, after all.
Ranajit brought the pistol in its box. It had several chambers, which made it more appealing to Abington for Isabel’s use. She could have it loaded and use it without needing to reload in a moment of duress. He set about cleaning it and endured ten minutes of Ranajit’s grumbling in Bangla, with accompanying loud sighs before he finally said something.
“I am aware that you are unhappy about Miss Isabel’s leaving the grounds. However, since you have known her for some years, you must know that I would have to tie her up and lock her in her room before she would be left behind.”
“Yes, General, I know this. She is a fiery soul. I worry because she is this way, but also, what is your word…this, ‘too innocent for her own good’ word?”
“Naïve?”
“Yes! Naïve. She may have a pistol in her hand, but she may not b
e able to use it, out of fear, or may pause to harm another person. She does not know the terrible things men can do.”
“Alas, I fear you are quite correct. I mean to ask the major to instruct her a few skills. The sorts of things that my late wife would never have permitted.”
“You mean as the instance we tried to teach her boxing?” Ranajit smiled slyly at the memory of a slight English girl swinging her small fists.
“The very thing in précis. Of course we never would have gotten found out if she hadn’t knocked the teeth out of that corporal.”
He winced, thinking of the carefully aimed left-hand jab. The lad had landed on his backside out of sheer shock, and none of them had thought about the fact that Lady Abington regularly toured through the sick calls.
There she had found Isabel, still apologizing to the corporal, while he’d vainly tried to warn her that her mother was incoming, not unlike a mortar attack. From that day onward, Isabel had been forbidden to run amongst the enlisted men so freely.
Hugh Abington had taken a verbal ear-boxing from his unamused wife. And the lad, well, they called him “Toothless Paddy” from then on. Abington found he was chuckling at the recollection, and noticed that Ranajit was similarly engaged. They quickly sobered themselves back to the task at hand.
“You think that this major will be happy to have to teach such things to the general’s daughter?” Ranajit