Captain Nemo_ The Fantastic History of a Dark Genius - Kevin J Anderson [84]
Now, Nemo and Caroline walked together under the sunshine toward their favorite bistro, and he looked at her, proud of what she’d accomplished. Her other options had been to sit at home or become a society lady -- neither of which fit Caroline at all. The gossips still talked about the scandal of the female merchant (but then, they always would), even though Caroline had been extraordinarily successful in rebuilding the family business according to her own instincts. She had uncanny luck in choosing paths and cargoes.
At home, alone, she wrote her own music as she had always dreamed of doing, maintaining the fiction of the non-existent composer “Passepartout,” to whom she gave all the credit . . . though few people questioned her about it any more. Even her loyal maidservant Marie had married a tradesman and had left service.
Strolling along, he enjoyed Caroline’s company. “I wish we could be alone,” Nemo said. “It’s so difficult, and I have so much I want to say.”
Caroline shook her head. “We can’t -- and you should not.” Then she smiled. “But I know what you must be thinking, even after all this time.”
The two of them arrived at the open-air coffee shop next to the flower stalls and pastry vendors. Jules Verne, still tall and thin but sporting a new beard, waved at them. He had already ordered pots of dark coffee and chocolat chaud and munched on a gooseberry tart while he waited, wiping sticky jam from his lips. During his visits home from the Paris Academy, Verne made every effort to replenish himself in preparation for his fourth and final year at law school.
A disappointed frown crossed his face when he saw Caroline on Nemo’s arm. She released her light touch as they both walked toward Verne’s table. He stood halfway up to greet her, and she kissed the young man on his red-bearded cheek. “Thank you for waiting, Jules.”
Blushing, Verne pushed one of the pastries toward the chair she had selected, then self-consciously wiped crumbs from his lips with a stained napkin. “I’ve ordered us some cheese, and I chose a currant pastry for you, Caroline. I know that’s your favorite.” It occurred to Nemo how much his friend looked like a wide-eyed puppy, eager to please.
Before Nemo could say anything, Verne turned to him, full of energy and news. “I’ve received a letter from one of the ships that went searching for your island, André. There’s been a volcanic eruption in the vicinity of the coordinates you gave. Maybe your island has sunk.”
“Like Atlantis,” Caroline said, her blue eyes shining.
Nemo nodded sadly. “That could well be. The volcano was restless when I entered its caves.”
“It’s a good thing you left when you did.” Verne scratched his curly hair, then took a bite of the nearest pastry, licking his fingers. Nemo poured a cup of chocolat chaud for Caroline and himself. Verne continued to watch them from across the table, as if keeping track of how often they looked at one another.
“And for you, Caroline, I’ve asked one of my lecturers at the Paris school.” When Verne awkwardly cleared his throat, he looked very much like a lawyer. “I can draw up the papers if you like. In three more years, with no word from the Forward, it --” He hesitated, then forced himself to go on in a somber voice. “It is possible to begin proceedings to have Monsieur Hatteras declared lost at sea, if . . . if you should wish to get on with your life, that is.” He added in a rush.
Startled, Caroline unconsciously glanced over at Nemo. “Seven years . . .”
“You are still a young woman, Caroline,” Verne pressed, “with a great deal to offer --”
Nemo took her hand. “Your suggestion is