Heart of Iron - Ekaterina Sedia [61]
“I like those,” I said. A day spent indoors reading appealed to me; I also saw an opportunity to talk to Jack about some of the conversation from last night.
We read most of the morning; both of us felt anxious to keep on our journey and yet eager to hear from Eugenia. We scanned the newspapers, but apart from a brief mention of the robbery of the St. Petersburg house of a visiting British dignitary, it contained nothing pertaining to us. Finally, I had got a grasp on the elusive memory that had been nibbling on my mind on and off all morning. “Jack,” I said. (It was easier for us to be on first name basis when we both were men; I suspected we would revert to the polite form of address once I was back in proper clothing.) “I heard what you said last night to the rotmistr.”
He put down the magazine he was flipping through. “What exactly are you referring to? If memory serves, the rotmistr and I had quite a prolonged talk.”
“You said that you’ve been to China. And you mentioned something about East Turkestan.”
“They all served in West Turkestan,” Jack said. “They said they were going there again.”
“And Commissioner Lin was exiled in East Turkestan. And you went to China. And there was no mention of you in those newspapers before 1841. About ten years ago.”
“What are you asking me?” He had such a direct, steady gaze, it was difficult to suspect him of anything unsavory.
“Have you ever worked for the East India Trading Company? Did you return to London in 1841 after the hostilities started?”
“You are astute,” Jack said. “I was never involved with the smuggling; I was a mere youth, a member of the crew on a merchant ship. We were caught in Canton Harbor in March 1839 when the Chinese demanded the surrender of all opium and detained all foreign ships so that the smugglers could not escape the country. We were only allowed to leave after all opium was destroyed.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
He shrugged. “I have told you more about myself than I ever told anyone, except under duress. I worried that your . . . idealism would not allow you to judge me kindly. And, to be quite honest, you already had quite a lot to contend with: my criminal past and my neglect of the natural sciences.”
I had to smile at that. I could also understand his omission—he did want me to like him, of that I had no doubt. “I understand,” I said. “I was simply curious, and never had intention of judging you.”
He laughed, visibly relieved. “Oh, thank you,” he said. “I should’ve known that your infatuation with Commissioner Lin would lead you to the truth of the matter. I’ve never been to East Turkestan myself, but I do have an acquaintance who has—who went there to see Commissioner Lin.”
“Who was it?” I awaited the answer with a superstitious dread that I had already guessed it.
“Dame Nightingale,” Jack said. “She does not miss a chance to see an old enemy of the British Empire humiliated.”
I put my book away. “But you told me she’s not really interested in China.”
“That’s what she told me.”
I searched through my satchel to get my pen. “Fine, but now I need to write a letter to my mother.”
“Make sure you do not mention where we are in case it gets intercepted.”
“You need not tell me things I already know,” I said. I tried not to be uncivil—he did bring me breakfast, after all; I just disliked being treated as a child. Somehow it was more acceptable from the hussars: at least, they thought I was sixteen and fresh out of a military academy. But even so, they spoke to me in a way men had seldom spoken to me before—as if I were their equal, to be teased a little due to my youth, but otherwise as one of them. I worried I might get used to it.
Jack went back to his reading as I contemplated my letter. I was supposed to uphold the lie of staying with friends, and I could betray neither my whereabouts nor my concerns. Instead I poured my anxiety into the only form available to me, which, by happy coincidence, was something she would most likely understand. I did not