Winter of the Passion Flower (The de Vargas Family) (2 page)

“Tell me what you know, man? Why are you on
my doorstep the night my vessel strikes trouble?” Indigo kept her voice low.

The captain pushed the knife aside with
little trouble, holding her hand tightly as the knife dropped silently to the
Turkish carpet. Bending to retrieve it, he wound the fingers of his free hand
tightly through hers as he examined the embossed handle. Holding the knife out
to her, he spoke quietly but firmly. “Take me to your viewing room.”

Indigo tried to pull away from him as she
took the weapon and slid it back into the side of her boot. His fingers
tightened on her arm as he steered her toward the door, his other hand hard
against her back. She twisted but was unable to escape his vice-like hold.

“Let go of me,” she snapped. “If you wish
entry to my viewing room, you must release my arm.” Keen to get upstairs to see
Mr. Grimoult, it was apparent she was going to have to take the risk and allow
this stranger entry to her sanctum upstairs.

The captain released her arm and Indigo
strode across to the side of the salon. Putting her hand behind a large
trompe
l’oeil
of painted books, a gentle whirring noise sounded as an entire panel
turned inward and a doorway appeared in the wall. Stepping into a dark
corridor, she gestured impatiently for him to follow. Candles in brass sconces
were placed at intervals on the embossed scarlet wallpaper lining the corridor
and pierced the inky darkness.

“Follow me,” she said tersely. He stepped
in behind her and followed her into the shadows. Mrs. Grimoult hurried along
behind them.

 “How do you know of my viewing room?”
she asked him looking back over her shoulder as she strode along the narrow
corridor. To her knowledge, only her two loyal retainers, Mr. and Mrs.
Grimoult, knew of the room upstairs and they alone were aware of the extent of
her enterprise. The captain did not reply and her mouth tightened as she held
her temper and mulled over the dilemma in which she unexpectedly found herself.

It was common knowledge that she, Indigo de
Vargas y Irausquínno, owned two hundred acres of exotic blooms surrounding an
exclusive holiday retreat perched high on the wild cliffs of Cornwall. But the
holiday biomes camouflaged her true business, and Indigo knew Duke Leopold
Lorca, owner of the castle next to her property, envied the success of her
enterprise and would do anything to put obstacles in her path. She also
suspected Lorca knew of her pharmacological production, and feared her plans
for the Great Exhibition may now be at risk. The mysterious events surrounding
the arrival of the
Artemis,
the disappearance of her crew and the
appearance of this stranger on her doorstep within minutes of the submarine
arriving home were too coincidental for her to remain unworried.

As Indigo and the captain reached the end
of the corridor, she considered the complication of his mysterious arrival. The
captain knew of the
Artemis
and her viewing room; he must have a
connection with the Grimoults. People she would trust with her life. Either
that or information had been leaked. Indigo’s mind worked furiously as she
pondered how much she could disclose to this man. The development of the
prototype would fail unless the
Artemis
made one more voyage to the
Amazon to collect the blooms. Without more passionflowers, there would not be
enough pharmacologicals or cosmecuticals to display at the Great Exhibition.

All their preparation would have been
for nought.

If the captain knew of her activities,
someone close to her had felt a great need to share the information with him.

Why had it not been shared with her?

“Do you have a vessel?” Indigo reached
across and spun the large brass cog mounted on the wall next to a pair of
embossed scarlet drapes. A soft humming began as it turned, interspersed every
couple of seconds with a loud grinding noise.

“I do.” He spoke loudly to be heard over
the increasing noise.

Indigo slipped her hand behind the drapes
and pulled a hidden lever. The drapes opened, revealing a solid door made
entirely of brass interlocking cogs whirring and clicking in constant movement,
not unlike a clock mechanism.

“Watch your hands,” she warned as the door
opened out toward them, the cogs winding furiously as the humming became
unbearably loud. Indigo and Mrs. Grimoult lifted headpieces with ear covers
from a large brass hook and placed the contraptions over their heads. Indigo
passed a third headpiece to the captain and he placed it over his head. The
door closed and the movement of the cogs slowed. Warm air rushed past them as
the small room ascended and Indigo watched the captain closely. His eyes were
shut tightly and he clutched at his stomach when the room lurched upward.
Indigo was accustomed to the gravitational pull of the perambulator and the
weightless effect on internal organs.

Her gaze traveled slowly down his body
during the ascent. His broad shoulders and tautly muscled body were clad in
expensive garments. The height and breadth of this mysterious man made her feel
small and feminine, despite her being taller than most women. His straight
black hair framed sharp cheekbones before falling untidily past a starched
linen collar. The dark stubble covering his jaw barely concealed a small white
scar near his lip. Yet, despite his dark, mysterious appearance, he had the
bearing of a gentleman.

As the perambulator slowed, Indigo placed
her hand on the control cog on the intricate lacing of wrought iron which
continued to move horizontally. The captain’s eyes opened slowly, and the
pallor of his face contrasted with his dark stubble. He examined the small room
with interest and his hand reached to touch the spinning cogs.

“Steam lift,” Indigo spoke loudly above the
humming. “Precision movement defined by the cogs. The perambulator ascends,
descends and moves sideways if needed. You did well. Most people heave on their
first trip in this directional perambulator. It was one of the first models
invented last century. ”

Hanging the three headpieces back on the
hook, she stepped back, allowing Mrs. Grimoult to exit the perambulator in
front of them. Indigo turned to the captain, and she held his gaze as she
gestured to the door. “Follow me.”

The perambulator opened into a huge
circular room surrounded with the darkness of the ink-black sky. Glass walls
allowed a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree vista of the panorama surrounding the
manor. The lights of an icebreaker, clearing the shipping channel, reflected off
a black, stormy sea as huge wind gusts pushed snow flurries against the window.

A little old man sat at a square table
inside an inner circle, his head in his hands. Scattered tufts of gray hair
covered a balding pink scalp. Indigo knelt beside him, placing her hands on his
slight shoulders. “Tell me what happened, Mr. Grimoult?”

The little man turned away from her,
shaking his head. “They’re all gone, Madame. The crew, the captain… and I
regret to say…the shipment.”

“What about the
Artemis
? Where is my
vessel?” Dread overcame her as she considered the possibility of losing
everything.

“It is intact. We loaded the cargo and
started back. I went to the underskin for a quick nap,” he replied. “I do not
know how long I slept because all of the chronometers have stopped working.
When I woke, I could not hear the pump jets working, nor feel the hydrodynamic
drag. I ran up to the control room and they were all gone. Each and every man.”

Reaching up, she gently removed his hand
from his hair as his gnarled hands pulled at the few remaining tufts. “It was
not of your doing, so do not distress yourself unduly.”

“Madame, I know how critical this shipment
is.” He shook his head.

“That is true.” Indigo stood and began to
pace the room. “How did you get back to the pier with no crew to assist you
with navigation?”

“That is the strange thing, Madame.” A lock
of hair fell across his forehead as his head moved slowly from side to side.
“The
Artemis
was
back at the pier and the escape hatch was open
when I awoke. I disembarked and came straight back to the manor.”

Indigo turned and looked at the captain,
who had followed the exchange with interest. “And coincidentally, a new captain
materializes on my doorstep this very evening,” she said in a cynical tone.

Mr. Grimoult looked up. The distress left
his face immediately and his mouth widened in a broad grin. Indigo watched with
amazement when the little man jumped to his feet and caught the captain in a
tight hug, reaching up and thumping the stranger’s back.

 “Zane! Zane Thoreau!”

The captain looked at Indigo as she stared
at the tableau in front of her, her disbelief overwhelming her.

“What exactly is happening here?” she asked
suspiciously. “
Captain Dogooder?”

“Purely a nickname, Madame,” the captain
said with a smile.

“Right.” Indigo stepped back and looked at
the two men grinning at each other and decided it was time to take hold of this
situation which was rapidly getting out of her control. “It is time for some
serious talk.” Standing next to the large table in the centre of the circle,
she looked at Zane, pointing to a chair. “You, sit there.” She turned to the
housekeeper who had now recovered her equilibrium. “Mrs. Grimoult, some
refreshments, please.” The housekeeper lowered her eyes and stepped from the
room.

 “Mr. Grimoult, do you need some time
to compose yourself or are you able to join us now?” Indigo continued in a
tight voice.

“I am fully recovered, Madame.”

“Good.” Indigo frowned as she noticed the
captain’s interest in the traveling attire of the older man. Denim jeans
covered his legs, the faded blue fabric topped with a soft uncollared shirt,
the short sleeves barely covering his small biceps. Mr. Grimoult noticed her
disapproval and his face colored.

 “I didn’t think to change back,
Madame. I returned with haste. I did not expect we would have company.”

“Not quite company,” Indigo said shortly.
“No matter. We have more important things at hand.” Indigo waved a dismissive
hand as the perambulator door slid open once more. Mrs. Grimoult stepped out
with a silver tray holding a plate of Turkish delight, a large jug of mulled
wine and three goblets, and then walked across with her head lowered before
placing the tray on the table.

Indigo stood quietly for a moment as the
captain examined their surroundings. A considerable sum spent during a recent
voyage to visit Sofia in Paris had equipped her sanctum with the most modern
technological devices. In the center of the inner circle, two analytical
engines with large black glass rectangles covered with brass knobs sat side by
side. A tray with the letters of the alphabet inscribed in a peculiar mix of
buttons sat on the table in front of each engine. A periscope head hung from
each side and an ornate timepiece, comprised of coils of copper wire and brass
screws, with a small light bulb on each side, sat next to each of the alphabet
rectangles.

Indigo observed the captain as he moved
around the room, examining the equipment. His fingers played with the alphabet
tray and he took a hurried step backward when a picture of a submarine with a
fish shaped prow appeared in a series of colored lights on the black glass. She
let him explore for a few moments, and then tapped her fingers on the table
impatiently.

“Sit down, Captain, we don’t have much
time.” Looking across at Mrs. Grimoult, a silent message passed between the two
women. Mrs. Grimoult nodded and entered the perambulator; the door slid shut
and the machine descended noisily. Indigo sat at the head of the table and then
looked pointedly at the captain as Mr. Grimoult poured the wine into the
elaborate goblets. “All right, Mr. Thoreau, Zane or Captain Dogooder or whoever
you may be, you can start with your explanation. Why are you here and what do
you want with me?”

She regretted her words as soon as they left
her lips, unsure if it was his proximity or the level of her worry causing her
heart to pound erratically. Her breathing quickened as she awaited his reply.
Attempting to meet his eye, Indigo noted the captain’s gaze fixed on the top of
her bustier, and folded her arms across her cleavage when he replied.

“I received an urgent missive from Edward,
your captain. He advised you were in need of immediate assistance with your
next shipment and that you required a master for the
Artemis
. I have no
idea of your cargo, or your destination, however I would trust Edward with my
life. I am available immediately, as my vessel is currently under repair.”

Mr. Grimoult interrupted. “Madame, if I may
speak? Zane is trustworthy. We were in the merchant navy together. His nickname
is well deserved.” He turned to the captain, smiling. “I would trust Captain
Dogooder with my life.”

“And I am here simply to offer my
services,” he said, but Indigo felt his smile was a little too innocent. She
was slow to trust; the death of her father in the Amazon had left her wary of
ever trusting readily again. She sat staring the captain as her mind worked
furiously. All would be lost without one more voyage. It would be necessary to
trust him and Mr. Grimoult seemed certain of the man’s worth.