Archive of Our Own ^beta

“All the privilege I claim for my own sex (it is not a very enviable one; you need not covet it), is that of loving longest, when existence or when hope is gone."

She could not immediately have uttered another sentence; her heart was too full, her breath too much oppressed.

(Persuasion, Jane Austen)

— 

Miss Inej Ghafa, six and twenty, and a former governess, could not afford to go home.

As the carriage passed the road that would have led to London, she could not control a feeling of deep wretchedness that she was sure must have shown on her countenance— but happily, it was not noted; her hosts were talking of other matters, and were quite distracted with them.

“If it were not for the sake of his son, I should have said no,” Nina was saying, gesturing wildly with her fan and almost striking her husband with it. “Oh— sorry, dear— but as I say, the Viscount is intolerable. He must know that it is expensive for us to travel, and yet he asks us anyway, and how are we to say no to the Viscount Van Eck? He might at least have paid for the carriage, I say…”

Nina Helvar was a married woman of twenty and eight, quick, lively, and a great wit. She enjoyed great popularity as a result; it was a rare thing to leave the house and not see three or four of her acquaintance. Inej had known her since she was a girl, and had been staying with her at Trasselwood Parsonage for the past year, since she had been turned out of Stavewell. Nina was generous with what she had, and sometimes with what she did not have— she had been married three years, but she had eloped, hence had not received a dowry or a trousseau, and her husband’s fortune was modest. The match had teetered on the edge of scandal, but had been patched over better than Inej could have expected, thanks to Nina’s personal charm, great number of friends, and swiftness at beating her father to the papers. Inej had almost choked on her breakfast to see ‘ At Trasselwood Parish, Mr. Matthias Helvar, aged 26, to Miss Nina Zenik, aged 25, both of Derbyshire.’ in the papers the morning of its printing.

Inej had at first been a little afraid of Mr. Matthias Helvar, who was a stern sort of gentleman— but Nina liked him exceedingly, and teased him more so, and Inej had come to like his company. He was the vicar of a small Derbyshire parish, very well-looking, if excessively solemn— and Nina, possessed with a love of the clergy and an admiration for his countenance (and for vexing him), had been all too happy to climb over the back wall of her father’s estate to his carriage in the dead of night. Though she knew many ladies were much taken with it, Inej herself did not quite understand the appeal of the profession, nor did she exactly know how Nina had ever convinced poor, upright Helvar that an elopement was what was to be done— but it had been done nonetheless. It was true that her father never would have approved of the match, and had selfishly thought to keep his daughter as a companion in his old age; and so her society at large could not quite condemn Miss Nina Zenik for endeavouring to become a vicar’s wife by her own means. 

Inej herself was Nina’s particular friend; a fine, intelligent young woman of six and twenty, she had entered a miserable service as a governess to the household of Dowager Marchioness Van Houden four years prior, and had spent those four years in marked drudgery. Mortified of being a burden to her parents, who had not the means to support her in society, she had endeavoured to embark upon a profession from which she could support herself— the Marchioness, however, was such a woman as did not pay her governess well, or care much for her, and it was under her rule that Inej had languished. Bullied by spoiled children who cared not to learn anything from her, constantly berated by their mother, and harassed by the men she constantly hosted for card parties. She had lost count of the number of men who had seized her or pinched her during her tenure; but it had been the final man, a particular gentleman who the Dowager Marchioness had her eye on, that had completely pushed her over the edge. The Marchioness had criticised her in front of the crowd for some minor transgression, and it had drawn notice to her— he had pursued her, snatched her by the wrist, and attempted to kiss her. The Marchioness had caught him, and initially she had scolded the gentleman; Inej had dared to hope that she might have an ally. Instead, the Marchioness had struck her, berated her, and turned her immediately from the house without payment, carriage, or chance to collect her meagre belongings. The coachmen had taken pity on her, and hidden her in the coach house until the middle of the night, at which point they had snuck her out and driven her as far as Trasselwood, where Inej had arrived inconsolable and soaking wet in Nina’s parlour, and had been there ever since. 

“But I feel as if poor Mr. Van Eck could do with company,” Nina continued, “And I am excessively curious to see the house at Geldings, and to meet the new Viscountess… she is only five and twenty, do you know?”

“I do know, my dear. You have mentioned it several times already.”

“Because it is so very contemptible, Matthias,” said Nina, in the manner of the fondest disrespect that she so enjoyed lavishing upon her husband. “I do not care if it is the done thing, it is very wrong for such an old man to have himself such a young bride. No doubt she will have merely married where her papa bade her, poor thing— and she is with child already! Inej, do you not think it is very bad? She is only a few years his son’s senior!”

“It is very contemptible indeed,” admitted Inej, having recovered her spirits a little now the road to London had passed out of her sight. “But old men think it is the most natural thing in the world that they should have themselves a young wife.”

“Oh, I dare say that is true. Poor Mr. Van Eck; I am sure I do not know how he walks by her side and calls her stepmother without shame!” 

But despite her complaints, Inej was not deceived; Nina considered this visit to the Viscount Van Eck a desirable excursion, even if she was not personally fond of the Viscount. She desired to make the acquaintance of his new wife, liked the Viscount’s son, and she was wondrously curious to see Geldings, the Viscount’s country seat. Inej could own herself curious, too, for she had never met the Viscount; Matthias merely attended because he felt it was polite to do so, and because Nina had decreed that they were to go. 

The Viscount’s late first wife had been an acquaintance of Nina’s late mother, and the bereavements on both sides had meant the acquaintance could not be easily turned down or left to wither, especially after Nina had put herself into the favour of the Viscount’s son. So they went to Geldings Park, and Inej was duly impressed by it; it was a large, handsome house set into a great deal of parkland amongst the hills, and it was an excessively pretty place. The house was well appointed, handsome, and furnished with all the splendour that befitted the owner’s wealth and rank; Inej looked with interest at portraits of the past Viscounts and the carvings of the family’s laurel crest. Nina looked unabashedly at most everything, and thought it all very well; Matthias walked silently behind them and made few remarks, though Inej did not think he was underawed— merely compensating for his wife’s overt admiration.

At dinner, Inej found herself sitting by the Viscount’s only son, The Right Honourable Wylan Van Eck. She did not particularly like to be left with gentlemen, lest they turned out to be the type of men who the Marchioness had hosted, but he did not seem so very bad. He was perhaps three or four and twenty, and he was a quiet sort of fellow— Inej did not think he quite loved his father. He had a good, delicate complexion and pleasant spirits, but he did not speak out of turn, and tended to look cowed when his father spoke to him. Inej discovered him to have impeccable manners, and to be much accomplished in art and music. He admitted a little bashfully that he spoke French, Spanish, German and a little Russian, danced and sang well, drew better, and played the flute and the pianoforte to a great standard. Inej wondered at the idea that he was not already married, or at least engaged. She liked him a great deal, and felt a little less unsettled for his company.

She did not much care for his father, the Viscount; he spoke politely and there was nothing in his way that seemed very ill, but there was something of the studied manners in him which did not seem genuine, and he had an air of superiority about him that Inej did not like. The new Viscountess, Lady Alys, was indeed much younger than the Viscount, and visibly pregnant; she was pretty, and had easy, cheerful manners, but she was a little silly, and had a tendency to prattle. Inej was sure she was a nice sort, but she would not have called her clever or quick. She hoped merely that she was happy in her marriage.

They spoke of mutual acquaintances, current affairs, the weather, and a little of the war, but the presence of Inej and the Viscountess seemed to turn the Viscount away from matters of Napoleon, presumably out of a concern for their constitutions; Inej did not mind to hear of it, but she knew that most gentlemen affected exaggerated concern for young ladies, and was not much moved or surprised to see it now. But over coffee, presumably prompted by the mention of naval battles, the Viscount turned to his son and enquired after Captain Rietveld, which was not a name that Inej recognised. Before his son could answer, the Viscount smiled indulgently at the visitors, intending to explain: “Our neighbour; Wylan goes to Crawley Hall most days to keep the Captain company, since he is now the only member of the Rietveld family living. Most generous of him.”

Inej rather suspected, from the younger man’s countenance, that Wylan Van Eck spent so much time at Crawley Hall in order to escape his father’s company.

“I saw the navy lists claim that the elder Rietveld was killed in action in April,” frowned Matthias. “This Captain Rietveld is the younger brother?”

“Yes, the second son— honourably discharged, as he has received a leg injury that will make it quite impossible for him to ever serve again. Currently, he cannot walk at all, hence the necessity of visitors. I am sure he would have come to greet you if he was capable.”

He did not look entirely sure of that claim, and neither did his son. 

“It is unusual for both sons of landed families to enlist,” said Matthias. Nina kicked him under the table, but Inej was curious too, and the Viscount seemed rather happy to elaborate.

“As I understand it, the Rietvelds were badly in need of money after their father’s death,” said he. “The elder brother had some brushes with bad deals and poor investments while the younger brother was— rather ironically— training to be a lawyer, and he enlisted in the idea that prize money might save the family seat. His younger brother followed him.”

“Father,” muttered Wylan. 

“Come now, Wylan, it is common knowledge. And in a way, he was correct; they won a good deal of money in sea-battles. It must be a great consolation to the Captain that he could afford a dignified funeral for his brother, and a good physician for his injury. Was he well?”

“I suppose he was— he seemed much the same. Not so bad as when he first returned home, but not so improved as to have returned to his humours before he left, though that is… expected, of course. He still may not walk, and it vexes him greatly. He was rather cross today, and I suspect he was in pain.”

“Well, he is a cross sort of fellow,” said the Viscount. “He had the Devil's temper as a boy, I say...” 

His son muttered something about liking the Captain that went ignored. Inej felt distinctly that the Viscount did not like Captain Rietveld, which seemed to her a peculiar admonishment for a young man whose only family member had been killed so recently, and whom they had heard nothing against, except an inclination to be out of spirits.

They went to the parlour, where Lady Alys sang and played; she was not quite good, more enthusiastic, but Inej held her countenance well enough, even as her little dog howled along at her feet. She pointedly did not look at Nina, who was fanning herself in order to conceal her building mirth. But even though the Viscountess was not quite accomplished, she was at least kind enough to think to encourage her stepson’s talents, which were much more accurately reported. They sang a duet that was rather more pleasing for his intervention, and Inej went to bed thinking that if it were not for the attitude of the Viscount, it would be a fine visit indeed.

Mr. Van Eck invited them to walk to Crawley Hall the next day, and Inej acquiesced happily, interested in the countryside of steep hills and narrow lanes, and curious about Captain Rietveld. Nina said that she did not know him, or of him, and suspected he had been at sea or in training in London when she had previously met the Van Ecks. Matthias had seen only his name creeping up the ranks of the navy lists; before his discharge, he had been in command of a schooner, HMS Hermes. This was all they could know of the man without meeting him.

Crawley Hall was not an old abbey like the Viscount’s, but one of those old Tudor manor houses which still survived in places around the country; it did not look to have been much modernised in recent years, though Inej was not sure if that was a matter of taste, or a matter of finances. They were shown in by the brisk housekeeper, Ms Van Zijl, and they found the house to be pleasant and kept neatly, with sharp, refined taste. It did not quite seem to Inej like the haunt of young naval men; it inclined to books and papers more closely than anything. 

They were shown into the parlour, which was a wide, bright room with a good fire, and found they had crossed with another party of visitors. Inej quite failed to keep the names straight in her head– Holst, Dekker, Smeet– but gathered they were all friends of the family who had affected to make themselves useful to the only remaining heir. The result was a cluttered room of people who were not all acquainted with one another making pleasantries, and Inej did not entirely blame Captain Rietveld, sitting near the fire with his leg propped on a stool, for looking strained.

The Captain was a young man of six or seven and twenty, with a coldly handsome face and stern mien. He was pleasing enough in his appearance— though since he could not at this moment rise from his chair without the help of one of his men and a crutch, Inej felt that she was not truly receiving a correct opinion of his usual stature or posture. Initially, he came across as quiet; it became apparent quickly that he was really sullen. His manners were poor; he was clipped, and seemed not to be pleased by anything. He stared with distinct disinterest as Wylan introduced them, and while he inclined his head to them and asked perfunctory questions, he did not seem to make any effort to listen properly. The only thing that endeared him to them in the slightest was that he had no inclination in the slightest to complain— he stiffly accepted condolences, queries, and sympathies with a stoicism that quite surprised them. His manners were not at all easy, and he looked with a gaze that Inej found uncommonly sharp. 

Matthias did not like him, Inej could tell— did not like that he was disinterested in and just barely polite to the ladies. Nina did not seem to either, but that perhaps was more because he had no spirits, and no apparent inclination to do anything about the fact. They did not stay particularly long, since all involved feared to be imposing themselves, and Inej left feeling sorry for him, and sorry to have come if they had vexed him— but of a certain suspicion that the Viscount may not have been entirely wrong about the Captain being inclined to be cross.

Although she feared it was doing the Captain a disservice to judge him too harshly upon this first meeting, grievously wounded and in mourning as he was— he suffered of health and of mind. Nina argued she did not know why he should have accepted visitors if he was not willing to entertain them, which Inej had to agree had a certain logic. 

“I think he would do better waiting until he feels more… sociable, to entertain,” Nina ventured as they walked back to Geldings Park. Mr. Van Eck winced.

“I do apologise. He was in particularly bad humour today, and perhaps I should not have sprung more visitors upon him. I did not know the others would be there; I hope when you next see him he may be more… himself. He does usually speak more openly.”

They next saw the Captain a few days later, when the Viscountess declared an intent to walk to Crawley— she insisted the fresh air would be to the benefit of the baby, and she thought to call on the Captain, who she referred to as ‘the poor boy’. The Viscount did not seem quite pleased with this decision, but he did not contradict her— and no one thought to point out to Lady Alys that the Captain was older than her. Inej did not truly wish to go, but felt obliged to accompany everyone else, and Nina whispered that she had a wish to see how on earth the Captain responded to the Viscount’s new wife.

He was again in the parlour when they arrived; the Viscountess smiled widely at him, seated herself by him, and asked a great many questions. He answered her patiently, asked passably politely after herself and the health of her baby, but he did not seem much impressed by her, nor was he excessively attentive; Inej thought the Viscountess bored him, and she took his arm at one point, which made him frown. His eyes wandered constantly; he seemed to look for entertainment or employment, and consequently he had more interest in the Helvars and Inej than he had previously. 

The Viscountess went to sewing and singing herself an aria, and Nina, struggling to tolerate Lady Alys’s constant singing, expressed a wish to see the rose gardens. The Captain shrugged and said she might do so if she wished, and Matthias, naturally, went with her. Wylan went in turn— he held that it was because he knew the way, but Inej thought he was perhaps eager to escape the awkward society of his young stepmother. This left the Captain, Inej, and the Viscountess alone. Wylan promised they would not be long, but the Captain did not seem to believe him.

As they lost bonnets and gloves and entered into a confused bustle of departure by the door, Inej turned from the window where she’d been standing, intending to return her sewing—

"Oh— Miss Ghafa, I beg of you, sit with me." 

Inej turned to find Captain Rietveld leaning out of his chair, indicating the empty seat next to him. Surprised, she looked over at the Viscountess, on the chaise a little way away with her dog in her lap, and then did as he bid. 

"I am most dreadfully bored," said he, sending their departing companions a hard glance and laying down the volume he'd been holding. 

"I fear you may not find my company to be any more stimulating than silence, Captain," said Inej, watching the door shut. She did not quite like to be left with him, and she found him sharp and strange— but the Viscountess was here, and one of the Captain’s men was standing in attendance by the door.

"Were you not a governess? Pray, speak to me of something learned and noble. I am very dull and stupid, sitting here every day while my companions go to hunt or walk or ride. I feel I am useless and achieve nothing." He paused a while, then said, in a quieter sort of tone; "Forgive me, Miss Ghafa, for my manners the last time we met. I have been cross and sick and frustrated, and it does make me most intolerably rude. Mr Van Eck may bear it, but indeed I might not expect it of ladies, or new acquaintances. I will address the Helvars similarly when they return."

Inej smiled tentatively at him. He had a fine face, a little wearied and a little hard, but she felt she might understand the bitterness she had found in his countenance the previous day. He still wore mourning for his brother.

"Be at ease, Captain Rietveld. I merely supposed that you did not wish for quite so many visitors in your state, which is hardly an unreasonable thing."

"You are very generous, miss."

Inej glanced over his shoulder at the spine of the volume he had been holding.

"Are you certain you would not rather continue with Lord Byron?"

The Captain sighed.

"Any distraction from Lord Byron's drivel would be very welcome. I find him most trying.”

“You are not a great lover of the romantic poets, then?”

“Not I, no.” Inej did not find herself much surprised. “Van Eck does not care much for literature, and I have long given up trying to impart my actual taste on him, so I merely take what he brings me and do not complain… not to him, at any rate."

It seemed to Inej that the Captain was in fact most talkative, when he had a mind to be.

"I cannot say I entirely disagree. Is there something you would prefer?" 

"Oh, anything. Homer. Dante. Shakespeare. Defoe. Or perhaps I should find something more contemporary... I liked the Madame d'Arblay's Evelina exceedingly, did you ever read it?”

“I did: I liked it greatly.” It amused Inej that he liked novels, but rejected the romantics; he would probably meet with much resistance if he ever raised such an opinion in the gentlemen's club, given how many objected to the novel as a form. Still, he certainly seemed to have the spirit to defend it; perhaps she and Nina had been wrong to accuse him of being lacking in them. 

“Oh— then you have a good taste. Mrs Radcliffe too, is most entertaining, if perhaps a little inclined to the fantastical—" he caught her slightly amused expression, and paused. "I do apologise, Miss Ghafa. I have not spoken at length with many people for a good long while. Everyone is very busy and very...” he made a disapproving face. “Spry.”

Inej laughed. “But you always seem to have visitors.”

“It is most peculiar,” he said sardonically, “But my visitors seem to mostly like to talk to one another, and use me as a mere occasion for socialising, or snooping around the house. I would never deny visitors their happy right to snoop, but I would at least like to see some attempt to honour their original pretence…”

“That is very wrong of them.”

“You are good, but that is how it is. Yourself and Mr Van Eck alone take pity on me.” 

“Then I shall not retrieve you any volume at all until you feel you have been sufficiently spoken to of something interesting.”

“I am very obliged to your kind self.” 

He had remarkably fine eyes, Inej thought. She had avoided his look the previous day, or he had avoided hers, but now she found him to be possessed of a gaze that was an uncommonly clear and deep brown, almost black.  

“You have been in —shire a week, now,” he said. “How do you like it?”

“Exceedingly. It is very pleasant. My family home is in London now, but my grandparents used to live in the country, and I miss it.”

“And the people?” He seemed to be digging for something, and Inej suspected she knew what— but he would not get an honest opinion from her at this point in their acquaintance, and especially not with the Viscountess present.

“Those who I have met with seem very good sorts. Do you know them all well?”

“Oh— mostly. Most families have lived here since I was a child.”

“We saw many people at church yesterday,” Inej said neutrally. 

He shrugged. “I have not been to church since my brother’s funeral. At this point it is a grand nuisance for me to get there, so I am excused. But even when I do walk again— as I am repeatedly assured I shall— I am not sure that I shall attend.”

She must have appeared surprised, for he looked slightly amused.

“Are you very pious, Miss Ghafa? I know you are hosted at the parsonage, of course, but I did think that was a coincidence.”

“It is a coincidence— but I suppose I may be said to be so.” she frowned at him. “Are you very rational, Captain?” 

“It is not the product of ideology. I knew many pious men in the navy, Miss Ghafa. They prayed in battle, before battle. It did nothing to save them, and now many lie in army hospitals or at the bottom of the sea— or what’s left of them does. Their god did not bother to extend a hand to them.”

“Captain, how can you say such a thing?” Inej glanced in apprehension at the Viscountess, but she still did not listen, humming an aria to herself. He was lucky he had not spoken so in front of Matthias, but perhaps he knew better than to do so. The man near the door— Specht, Inej thought— quirked his expression slightly, but he did not look quite surprised. Inej had heard that some enlisted men questioned their faith while in service, but she had never encountered one who dared to voice it. 

The Captain stared at her with those deep black eyes, then shook his head.

“I may say such things very well,” said he, rather harshly. “I do not believe the men I saw killed in the water would disagree with me.”

Inej sat in silent anger for a moment, clutching her hands together and avoiding his gaze. In the Marchioness’ service, the only things that she had had to herself were her accomplishments, and her faith. She did not like to find one of them tested by a hard-faced naval man almost completely unknown to her. She did not care if he were not pious, but his tone was hard, and she felt his judgement.

She looked closely at him, and found nothing in his countenance except a cool, slightly ironical stare. 

She stood abruptly. “I shall find you a volume.”

“Something theological?” said he. He mocked her! She was certain he did. Well, he was wretched. She was barely sorry that he suffered. Inej stared hard at him, until he dropped his gaze.

“Something to make you be quiet, Captain,” she said, quite pertly, and strode away. She rather thought his man Specht laughed to himself as she went.

As they walked back to Geldings, she told her three companions— Lady Alys had sent for the carriage on account of her swollen ankles— what Captain Rietveld had said. As she had predicted, Matthias was cross, and Nina grimaced; Wylan just sighed. 

“I am sorry. I will warn him to keep his tongue, though I do not suppose he will heed me. He has always been a great cynic and sceptic, but he has lately been a good deal worse. I do not think we need to wonder why, but he could at least keep his own counsel. I fear he is deliberately incensing people in order to entertain himself. I am sorry he chose you as his target, Miss Ghafa.”

“I am not quite sure I see why you have tolerated him for so long,” Matthias muttered.

“He was not so bad before the war,” said Wylan. “It is hard to emphasise exactly how highly he valued his brother, and I suspect that without him he does not quite know what to do. And he has done me… several great kindnesses over the years, which are not easily repaid. I will not forsake the Captain, no matter how vexing he may be.” 

No one asked what the kindnesses had been. Inej thought that they did not quite believe him.

The Viscount was in a bad humour upon their return, and Inej heard no more about the Captain from Wylan— or indeed much of anything at all. He was much more talkative without his father, and fell almost completely silent when the Viscount was cross. Inej wished that he could escape his influence more often, and Matthias seemed to have had a similar thought— he suggested to Wylan that they go out to ride the next day, and Wylan seized the suggestion gratefully. 

“Even if the Captain is vexing and the Viscount unpleasant, no one can say that we are having a boring visit,” Nina said to them as they climbed the stairs to retire that night. “I am quite well entertained, and Mr. Van Eck is very good, at the least...”

Their next week was spent with myriad visits, engagements, and walks. They did not see the Captain again, which was likely by Wylan’s design— Inej knew that he had dutifully gone to see him at least once more, but he had gone alone. They saw a great assortment of people, and were obliged to sit through a card-party hosted at the local hall, where Nina became, as was usual, very popular. Inej and Matthias quietly lost money in the corners, and Inej sat herself with a few chatty spinsters, who she enjoyed the company of well enough. 

There had been a peculiar instance that morning, which now bothered her as she sat reading near Nina. The day’s letters had been brought in, and the Viscount had procured one for his son: 

“Here, Wylan,” said he, “This is for you.”

Wylan looked rather startled, and took it hastily, looking as if he were going to put it away to read later. But the Viscount asked him why he did not read it now, and he looked even more perturbed— but he did not seem to quite want to defy his father. He dutifully unfolded it and looked at the contents, then shook his head and returned it to his pocket, quite quickly.

“Well?” said the Viscount.

“It is nothing,” said Wylan quietly. “Merely a note from an old acquaintance.”

“No bad news, I hope?”

“No,” said Wylan, staring at his plate. “No, nothing at all.”

Whatever he had read, or whatever had passed between himself and the Viscount, it did not please him; he was quiet throughout the rest of breakfast, and got up abruptly to go and play, soon after the fact. Now he was playing through a lively sonata in the corner, brow furrowed; Inej did not want to ask him what the matter was, and certainly could not, in this noise, but she hoped it was truly not bad news. But with the Viscountess doing carpet-work in the corner, she could not ask him in here at all, because she knew he would not speak. 

“I thought I might sit with the Captain, later,” she said, loud enough for Wylan to hear her. “We have not been to call on him since the start of the week.” 

She could own it was largely a ruse to get Wylan on his own, but she had begun to wonder if she should return to Crawley. She had been very angry with the Captain for his blasphemy and his mockery, but she found it was an anger that had cooled considerably over the last number of days. She still felt sorry for his bereavement and his injury— though she did not think he would much like the sentiment— and she wondered if it was resentment for his own situation, rather than disdain for hers, that had made him harsh. It did not make him quite forgivable, but nonetheless she felt a little guilty for neglecting him.

Wylan paused in his playing.

“I will follow you there a little later; I have some business to attend to, but I did think of going today.”

“That would be pleasant. I will go directly.”

“You are very good, Inej,” huffed Nina, stabbing at her needlework. “I would not do it. He is very displeasing. Matthias, does this look completely awful?”

“It is very nice.”

Nina stared doubtfully at him, then turned it to Inej.

“I am sure I do not know why I ask him. Inej, tell me, what is wrong with it?”

“Your border is a little crooked on the right side, I think,” said Inej apologetically. “A line too far?”

“Damn!” Nina ignored Matthias’s reprimanding look for her language, turning it back around. “So it is.”

She went to unpicking it; Inej went to Crawley. It was not so improper for a lady of twenty and six, five years ‘out’, to call on acquaintances by herself, and she doubted that the Captain would be alone, since he usually had a hovering guest of some description.

And indeed he was in company— with his cousin, who had been there the first time they had met. A certain Mrs Dekker, but the Captain called her by her Christian name, which was Anika. Inej presumed them close, and Anika had confirmed they had been playmates as children. She smiled at Inej as she was shown in. 

To her surprise, the Captain was standing, albeit with the hands of his man Specht under his elbow and his own hands clamped around the edge of a table. A physician was crouched at his side, examining his stance. He looked tired and rumpled, but he nodded and offered her a stiff bow. He looked rather surprised to see her.

“Are you well, Captain?” said Inej, eyeing the physician.

“As I may be, Miss Ghafa. I have felt better, but Rotty here tells me that my leg is progressing well enough. Do sit.”

He was tall, Inej realised; sickness and grief had made him thin, but he was certainly taller than Mr Van Eck, though there was a stiffness to his posture that she did not quite understand. Perhaps he was in pain; he was avoiding putting any weight on his bad leg. 

He was odd, Inej reflected as she sat down and got out her sewing. He was at times courteous, and at others very rude. He did not seem to quite know which he should be; she thought he might struggle with his own humours. 

She glanced up at him, saw him viewing the hands on him with a distinct displeasure. There was a clear release of tension as the physician released him, then Specht— and Inej realised then that the Captain did not like to be touched. 

That was curious, she reflected as he returned awkwardly to his seat and the physician departed. Perhaps it was some kind of pain response— but she would certainly bear it in mind, whatever the origin. 

“The physician said you ought to take at least half a turn, cousin,” Anika told him from the window-seat. She was reading the society papers shamelessly, and seemed rather amused by them.

“I do not need reminding, Anika, I thank you,” said the Captain stiffly. He glanced at her, and Inej was sure he would refuse to do so in company— she would not blame him. But finally, with a muttered curse, he took his crutch and hauled himself back to his feet with some difficulty, and moved past her, gripping the back of the sofa.

It was easy to tell where he was in the room, even with her head bent over her sewing, since he did not move quickly or lightly. Still, she was vexed when he stopped behind her to look at her embroidery.

“Are you still angry at me for being a navy heathen, Miss Ghafa?” said he, peering over her shoulder— not close enough to feel threatening, merely close enough to be a simple nuisance.   

Inej sighed, dropping her sewing into her lap. He was teasing her, she was sure. She would have thought him arrogant, had she not seen his countenance when she had been announced; he had not expected her to come back, and certainly not by herself. He had at least enough humility to know he had been wrong, and had expected to be punished for it.

“Captain Rietveld, I cannot believe that you were not cast from the navy for insubordination. You are quite the most impertinent gentleman I know.”

“Oh— do not tell me that, I know that,” said he. “Pray, what are these?” 

“Geraniums. They are to be part of a collar for my mother.”

“They are charming.”

He moved away. Inej had thought to offer him help, but he did not seem to want it, and if he did not like to be touched then she would be no such help at all. She waited for a little, and then she said:

“You might do and think as you will, Captain— as any man might. But I wish that you would not goad me quite like you do.”

He did not reply. She glanced up and found him leaning by the window, looking gravely at her. He seemed a little ashamed; Inej hoped, somewhat unkindly, that he was.

“I will make no apology for what I think, Miss Ghafa,” he said at last, “But it was very bad to mock you. So for that, I am sorry.”

Inej held his gaze for a moment, and found he did seem to be in earnest. She shook her head and returned to her embroidery.

“You do mystify me, Captain.”

Anika got up and crossed the room to sit with her, and she whispered not so very quietly from behind her fan:

“You are quite right to tell him he is a pest, Miss Ghafa, for he is, and indeed he has always been, even since he was a boy. We should think of some scheme to make him sorry. Young ladies always excuse his crassness because he is very handsome, but I think he is quite the rudest man I know, and I tell him so.”

“Anika, you are the most unbelievable nuisance.” frowned the Captain. Anika sprang up to walk beside him, smiling gailey. 

“This is quite what I mean. Whoever heard of a gentleman speaking to his cousin in such a manner?”

“You have, clearly. Oh— Anika, be of some entertainment, do not berate me. What is in that ridiculous pamphlet?”

“Oh, well, you will not believe what it alleges about the Marquess Van Daal—”

Wylan arrived not long after, with his sketchbook and a stack of volumes he had brought from the Geldings library. Anika departed to change for dinner, and he handed over the books to the Captain:

“I have no idea what they are, I am sorry, but I did go where you bid me—”

He glanced at Inej and seemed to falter, for some reason, but the Captain took them and examined them calmly. 

“Ah. Yes, Virgil is perfectly tolerable, even if it seems I will have to translate— it is better than the shipping histories, at any rate.”

“I did say that I was sorry for that.”

“Well, it amused me in a different manner…” 

Wylan folded his arms. “And have you made this entire call without once vexing or offending poor Miss Ghafa?”

The Captain looked coolly at him. Inej bent her head over her sewing to hide her smiling, since she was not sure she would not laugh outright. She had not thought that Wylan would deliberately provoke the Captain, but perhaps his deference to his father did not reach anyone else.

“I am sure that is not for me to decide,” said the Captain, “But I own I have been perfectly well behaved.”

“Does he lie, Miss Ghafa?”

“No— he has been quite tolerable company,” said Inej. “If not quite a perfect gentleman.”

“You wound me, Miss Ghafa.”

“I suspect I do not, Captain.”

He snorted and flicked open his volume. Wylan sat down and glanced again at Inej, then at the Captain’s volume— and seemed all at once to come to a decision. He drew himself up, and said:

“Miss Ghafa, you may have wondered— my father was very indiscreet at breakfast, but perhaps it was not so obvious to those who do not know, but… well.” He swallowed, and said quite clearly: “I may not read, Miss Ghafa. It is not that I do not wish to— it is that I cannot. All the masters and tutors my father could hire could not teach me, and he thinks me a sorry fool. I have only made it this far because I am accomplished everywhere else that I can be, and my men and the Captain transcribe letters for me.”

“He is very lucky that I am a captive scribe at the moment,” muttered the Captain, leafing through Aeneid IV-VII, but he did not seem to mean it. 

“You have a good hand, and are more at your leisure than my manservants, which you know…”

Inej listened only distantly; she was suddenly very angry at the Viscount, exceedingly so. He had deliberately goaded his son in front of their guests, certain only Wylan would feel the full meaning of it. He had thought to embarrass him, perhaps to remind him of his place. He was not only insincere, but he was unkind— and to his only son, for something that was not his fault. That was not something that she would easily forgive. 

She turned and looked at Wylan, who picked in an unsettled manner at his cuffs.

“That is bad luck, Mr. Van Eck, but I do not think it should matter very much,” she said gently. “It should not mean your father thinks you unintelligent, not when you are so accomplished everywhere else— it is clear you are no fool. So long as you have someone to read to you and to write what you might dictate, what difficulty should it be? It is not everything.”

He smiled at her, but he coloured as he said:

“I had thought, because you were a governess—”

“I taught a great many things,” said Inej. “Not all of them needed literacy. I know the value of a varied education, Mr Van Eck.”

He smiled more convincingly, then. She smiled back, sure now that she liked the Viscount’s quiet son.

“I had— a letter, this morning,” said Wylan, turning back to the Captain, who had been bent over the volume, muttering to himself in Latin. “My father challenged me to read it at the table and said it was for me, but truly I do not know if— I thought it might be—” he looked rather hopeless. “Will you check what it is?”

“I will.” 

It was produced, and the Captain unfolded it and scanned it. He scoffed.

“So he is ignoring my letter in favour of writing to you? Hah! That is rich indeed, for you do not suffer in the slightest—”

“Captain,” pressed Wylan. 

“Yes, yes, it is the very man you wish it to be. I shall read it for you later.” 

“There is no bad news?”

“No. There is rather a lot of effusion, and a strange ramble about porpoises, but no great calamity has befallen....”

He handed it back to Wylan, who took it with marked more reverence than he had given it, and tucked it back into his coat. The Captain, apparently considering his duty done, returned to Virgil. Wylan, seemingly appeased, went to sketching, and Inej finished her geraniums, pleased that she had managed to be in the Captain’s company for over an hour without wanting to cast her embroidery hoop at him in vexation. Presently, she glanced at Wylan’s work, and found, as usual, that it was a high standard indeed.

“Those are very good, Mister Van Eck. You are talented indeed.”

He turned the book around obligingly, for her to examine them more closely.

“Mrs Helvar wants me to take her likeness, but I am worried I will do her no justice. She has a lively sort of face.”

“I am sure she will be pleased; neither I nor Mr Helvar have a talent for likenesses, so her fine face is sorely wasted.” 

She turned the pages of his book curiously, and found there was a recurrence of a few likenesses she did not recognise; one had a passing resemblance to the Captain, and Inej suspected uneasily that it was the countenance of the dead Jordan Rietveld. The other was a fine young man in naval uniform, who reoccurred consistently. Inej wondered with some amusement if Wylan had a sailor beau. It would explain why the agitation around the letter, why he did not marry, and why he had a habit of harassing Captain Rietveld for updates on the naval battles.

She noticed that the Captain had slowly passed out of interest in his volume, and now he had tipped his chin into his fist, staring blankly into the fire. Wylan noticed; he said, quietly;

“I replaced the flowers on the grave this morning, Captain.”

The Captain did not turn his head. “What with?”

“Some of the early wisteria.”

He was quiet, for a little while. “Thank you, Wylan.”

“It is nothing,” mumbled Wylan uncomfortably. Inej had not thought that the Captain would call Wylan by his given name, and from then on she looked at the two men with more of a thought to them being better friends than expected.

When they departed later, Inej offered to carry the books that the Captain had given to Wylan to take back to Geldings. She found one of them still open, slightly carelessly— presumably with the mind that Wylan could not read what was on the page.

VIO. 

And what should I do in Illyria?

My brother he is in Elysium.

Perchance he is not drown’d : What think you, sailors?

CAP. 

It is perchance that you yourself were saved.

VIO. 

O, my poore brother, and so perchance may he be.

She closed it quietly and took it back with the rest of the volumes.

The Captain slowly won them over, through the weeks; though Matthias still thought him coarse, Nina uncovered the same seam of quick wit and ironical spirit that Inej had found— and in that she and he were very similar. They had already known he read extensively, but it was uncovered that he was trained in French, Latin, and Greek, and had picked up Italian and Dutch from the navy. Wylan commented that he had a perfect memory, which the Captain dismissed, but Inej suspected to be true. He played— though he owned he was not so good as Wylan was— and Wylan insisted that he danced well, though the Captain himself attempted to strike such an accomplishment from the record on the likelihood that his leg would encumber him. Both men rode and shot, but the Captain had boxed in the military (Inej was sure from that point that his nose had been broken before), and Wylan fenced. She liked their company, and found that one compensated for the others’ failings; Wylan was excessively polite, and the Captain was certainly not, but the Captain said what Wylan would not, and had a habit for advocating for him when the Viscount cowed him, which was either brave or foolish. She also thought that the Captain tended to lend some kind of courage to Wylan; he was a little more forthcoming in his company.

The Captain and Anika joined them at Geldings more often, as the Captain found it easier to travel; one particular night, they were sitting in the parlour over tea, when the Captain said from the corner, rather suddenly:

“Well!”  

He was holding the navy lists, and Inej did not miss the way in which Wylan Van Eck’s head shot up. Perhaps she had been right about the navy beau.

“What? What is it?”

“No one is dead, Van Eck, do not have an apoplexy. It seems that Corporal Jesper Fahey has been promoted." Captain Rietveld's eyes gleamed over the top of the page. "He is now a commanding officer, a Captain like me. Is that not fine?"

He was addressing poor Wylan completely directly. Wylan’s countenance turned pink, and he examined his teaspoon closely. Yes, certainly she had been correct. She glanced at Nina, and found she had clearly come to that same conclusion; she smiled expectantly and quirked her eyebrows.

“That is very good news,” said Wylan stiffly.

“We should certainly write to congratulate him—”

"What of it?" said the Viscount, rather suddenly. "Men are promoted for miniscule achievements all the time, or else buy their commissions. It is nothing much. After the war, he will still be a gentleman farmer."

Wylan visibly bit his tongue. Inej felt acutely for him, suddenly; the Rt. Hon. Wylan Van Eck, in love with a gentleman farmer at sea that his father clearly did not like, that he could not write to without the Captain as a middle man. 

Captain Rietveld glanced at Wylan, then said, with a black note in his tone:

"I make nothing of my own promotion, since it was scarcely bestowed before I was discharged. But it was Fahey who dragged myself and my scarcely-attached leg out of the shallows and away from my brother's corpse, Viscount— so I would call it a promotion well-earned."

Wylan winced. Nina paused with her teacup halfway to her mouth, and even Matthias looked a little uneasy.

"Captain," snapped the Viscount. "There are young ladies present."

Captain Rietveld murmured some apology, but in truth he did not seem to care whether or not he had upset Inej or Nina’s sensibilities. If he had gambled on their personal constitutions being strong, he was correct, but she did not think he had spoken with much thought to anything except to vex the Viscount. Their dislike was mutual; but now Inej thought that the Captain’s dislike for the Viscount was more to do with his disdain for his son. 

She realised quickly that Captain Rietveld had a distinct lack of tolerance for the ridiculous, the affected, and the studied. The Viscountess, with her constant singing and silly dog, seemed to test both his mirth and his patience; the Viscount, with his studied manners and his disdain for his son, seemed to make him angry. He was an excellent sparring partner for Nina; Inej was too sensible and Matthias too solemn, so Nina and the Captain were very happy to take verbal swipes at one another over whist or piquet. The Captain was also an excessively good card player— so good that Wylan would never stake money with him, sure of never seeing it again. 

“Captain, why do you not simply play?” Nina demanded one night over her hand. “Instead of sitting there with a book you do not read, and telling Miss Ghafa which cards to place?”

“I recall you told me never to play again after I won a considerable sum from you. I am merely told Miss Ghafa does not gamble often, and was refreshing her on the rules.”

“You are helping her cheat, Captain,” snorted Nina. Inej glanced at him, and he looked arch and pretended to go back to his volume— but soon after, he leant over and tapped her King of Diamonds to indicate she should place it next. Inej, who always lost to Nina, did not quite have the nobility of spirit to tell him to stop. 

“My dear,” said Lady Alys, reading a letter in the corner, “My friend Mary is getting married.”

“Who to?”

“To the Lord Haxby.”

“That is a good family,” said the Viscount.

Alys hummed. “It seems to me that all the young ladies in the world are getting nicely married, at the minute. Do you not have a beau, Miss Ghafa?”

Inej stared at her cards.

“I do not, ma’am.”

“Should you like to get married?”

“I suppose I might, ma’am. I have been so busy in my position that I have not quite had time to think about it.”

“Oh! But you are far too pretty to be a poor spinster or a stern old governess, Miss Ghafa. I am sure that you will find some gentleman who wants to marry you, even at six and twenty.”

Inej mumbled her gratitude, but she did not dare to look up at her companions. She knew that Lady Alys did not mean badly, but there was some particular piece of humiliation in pointing out her age and her lack of prospects in company. 

“I tell the Captain and Wylan all the time that they must think more seriously of it, but they will not. They are most peculiar!” In a small mercy, she moved on: “Mrs Helvar, have you not been married three years already?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Nina brightly, squinting at her hand of cards. It was almost guaranteed she was not going to win against Inej’s Captain-guided play, but she would not be seen to lose without an effort. 

“Under peculiar circumstances, as I do recall?” said the Viscount pertly. Nina glanced up from her cards, and Matthias from his sermon— they looked at one another, and seemed to silently compete over who would defuse this particular accusation— in the end, Matthias looked so long and so silently at the Viscount, that he succumbed to awkwardness and turned away. There was such a peculiar forbearing solemnity in his stare that he tended to quite frighten young ladies who were not so robust as Nina; it did not surprise Inej that it worked to even unsettle older men.

“Not all that peculiar,” said Nina lightly, going back to her cards. 

The Viscount coughed. “Quite.”

Inej was not surprised that Anika and Wylan had made no interjection, but she was surprised that the Captain had not found a sharp remark to make. She glanced over her shoulder at him, and found him looking at her— but he dropped his gaze to her hand of cards, and all he said was:

“It is your turn, Miss Ghafa. Lay that one.”

The Viscount died of a sudden apoplexy just before the summer, while they were all away visiting the Dekkers for a night; Inej could not say she was particularly sorry for it. It was clear the Captain was not, either— he shook his head and kissed his teeth at the news, and said it was a ‘sad business’, but he did not much seem like he meant it. The not unexpected death of an old gentleman in his own home, Inej supposed, had very little impact on a man whose brother had been killed in front of him at war.

Wylan looked rather shocked and harassed, but not quite sorry either. The Viscountess seemed quite dismayed, if not exactly aggrieved, and repeated her concerns for the baby; it was agreed she would spend the rest of her confinement and birth with her parents, which did seem to raise her spirits a little. 

The death of the Viscount caused a considerable amount of fussing; the Helvars and Inej were obliged to return hastily to Trasselwood for nearly a month, not wanting to intrude upon funerary arrangements and the awkward transition of titles, with such speed that they did not take the leave of the Captain, Anika, or their acquaintances in the village— but the new Viscount begged them back to Geldings soon after. 

It was a much happier arrangement to be in this Viscount’s company, without the shadow of his father or the awkward presence of his stepmother; they were able to speak freely, to help Wylan with his correspondence however he desired them to, and go and do much more as they pleased. Out of his father’s influence, he developed a blither spirit and easier manners; he was a little more arch, a little surer.

Upon their return, Inej was anxious to visit Crawley— not that she felt the Captain could not possibly have taken offence at a slight breach in propriety, but nonetheless she wished to go. They went upon the second day of their return, as Nina had been much denied a suitable whist partner over the last month.

“Ah!” said the Captain, flinging down the newspaper as they entered. He seemed gratifyingly pleased to see them. “You are back; the Viscount will be pleased to have guests to bother himself about.”

To Inej's surprise, and no small pleasure, he gripped the arm of his chair and levered himself to his feet to bow to them. It was not quite neat and not quite nimble, but it was good to see him stand with less difficulty. His knee was set with some leather brace that seemed to make him move with less pain, Inej rather thought.

“Captain, that is most encouraging!” said Nina. “Do you walk?”

“A little— not particularly well enough to leave the house alone or to promenade, but a little. I have had a cane made, which does help. Not the affected sort that the town dandies carry, mind you. It is— well, it is necessary. Will you dine with me tonight?”

Inej thought wryly to herself that the Captain really had to be feeling better, if he were offering to be sociable. 

She could not resist, when they sat down, from whispering:

“So your excuse for no longer going to church is eliminated, Captain? That is a pity…”

He caught the archness in her look and shook his head, amused.

“Miss Ghafa, I own I have almost missed being admonished by you.”

Not long before they were going to return to Geldings to dress for dinner, there was some commotion in the hall, and whoever had just arrived saw themselves in, rather loudly. Everyone looked up, much surprised.

It was a fine, excessively tall young gentleman in the uniform of a naval captain. He had obviously come in some haste; he had high colour, and was breathing heavily as he propped himself against the doorframe. He had a very pleasing face; forthcoming and cheerful, with good dark skin and eyes of the most impressive grey that Inej had ever seen. 

It was the gentleman from Wylan’s sketchbook; the newly promoted Captain Fahey. Inej felt inexplicably pleased for Wylan, and she turned to Nina, who had evidently recognised him too. They smiled disbelievingly at one another.

"Kaz!" he cried.

It wasn't until Captain Rietveld turned and responded to him, that Inej realised Kaz must be the Captain’s Christian name.

"Captain Fahey!" said he, slightly wry. "Inviting yourself in, as usual— you look positively overwrought. Have you been to Geldings—?” 

He was cut off as Captain Fahey practically flew across the room to embrace him like a brother. It was most improper, yet Inej bit her lip anyway. Fahey— so this was the man that had saved his life in the navy. The Captain let him touch him, though Inej did see his wince, and his jaw looked rather set as Fahey crouched on the floor next to his chair, apparently ignoring all of the available seats. 

"I begged leave; I could not get it, not until now, I am sorry—"

"Upon what grounds would they have given it to you? I was alive."

"Kaz, you are so crass," said Fahey crossly. "You look sick and crabby, and you have stopped writing to me nearly as often. I thought you might have declined. The men were sure you would die, with your leg blown to pieces like that. That was the last time we saw you, do not pretend to forget."

"I do so hate to lose good men gambling money." said the Captain— said Kaz. Inej found it rather hard to break herself out of the habit. But it was a sharp name, unusual, and she thought it rather suited him. It darted as quick as his eye and his smile. 

“They certainly did not gamble on your life.”

“Did you?”

Fahey’s jaw jutted.

“I did not. What do you take me for?” 

The Captain shrugged. “Well, I reject your unsolicited comments on my appearance. And I do not see why I should write to you, since you appear to be in my presence. Get up, Jesper, and stop ignoring our company."

"Oh—! I beg your pardon." Captain Jesper Fahey seemed to have endless energy; he sprang nimbly to his feet and turned on them, all apologetic smiles and obeisances. 

"Mr and Mrs Helvar; Miss Ghafa." said Kaz, with a weary gesture at them. “Visiting the Viscount from Trasselbow.”

Captain Fahey made them all bows, and fixed his eyes curiously on Inej as he took a seat next to her. He was perpetually fidgeting, Inej found.

“How do you find —shire?” he said brightly. “I think it is very pleasing. I should be happy to live here; it is a fine region.” Constantly, his eye was drawn back to the Captain’s elevated leg and his cane; the Captain noticed, certainly, but he made no comment. 

Nina made some remark about the weather here that amused Fahey, but he soon leapt onto another topic. He was incessant; Inej noted with some amusement the contrast between the two officers. He was far more lively than Captain Rietveld, and had been more unreserved in the ten minutes he had sat here than his friend had ever been.

“And the Viscount? I understand you are acquainted, through… oh, was it your mother, Mrs Helvar—?”

Kaz said, in a curious tone that Inej could not parse;

"You forget, Captain. The Viscount you mean is dead. His son is now the Viscount Van Eck..."

Fahey turned around and looked at him. Captain Rietveld smiled oddly, knowingly, in a manner that implied there was something that only he and Fahey were allowed to know. 

"Yes," said Captain Fahey, in an equally odd tone. "Yes. Of course.” 

When the moment went quiet, Nina said, kindly; “My mother was well acquainted with the old Viscount, and he invited us to spend the summer here.”

“Ah. Yes. Lovely.” Fahey smiled in a strained sort of way. “I suppose I must go over to Geldings to pay the new one my respects—"

"No need.” Captain Rietveld, again. “He's coming here."

"What?" Poor Captain Fahey almost leapt from his chair. “When?”

Captain Rietveld adjusted his knee brace idly.

“I invited him to dine with us tonight. I assume you intend to join us?”

Inej looked over the spluttering Captain Fahey’s shoulder at Nina, whose countenance was just barely reserved. Matthias looked somewhat lost.

“I should dress for dinner—” began Fahey.

“Dress, then come down and retrieve me, won’t you?” said Kaz, opening the navy lists. “God only knows where Specht has gone, and if I sit here any longer I shall scream.”

“Yes, yes— Miss, Madam, Sir—” Captain Jesper Fahey bowed and disappeared in a whirl of gold braiding. 

The silence was broken, most oddly, with the laughter of the Captain. He laughed at some length to himself, as if at some private joke, and went back to his page, still smirking.

“Rietveld, what on earth did you do to that poor fellow?” said Matthias, astonished. 

“Pray don’t admonish me, Helvar.” said Captain Rietveld, throwing the navy lists down again. Apparently it had been a mere pretence of idleness. “I am securing him an advantageous marriage.”

“A marriage!” echoed Nina, thrilled.

"I hope very much that if I idle for long enough before dinner, perhaps complain of my leg or dither on the stairs, he will beg a private audience with the Viscount— wherein he will entreat the Viscount to marry him."

Inej laughed disbelievingly. 

"That is most interfering, Captain," she told him, but not with any real disapproval. 

"Miss Ghafa, of course it is," said Captain Rietveld, eyes glittering. "Jesper— the Captain, pardon me— always needs a push before he will jump. It is very bad to interfere, perhaps, but for a man who may not go far or do what he might, it is the greatest amusement in the world.” 

“Are they well acquainted?” asked Nina. “It seemed to be so.”

"Indeed they are. Fahey is very fond of the Viscount. He went to war to erase his gambling debts— but he also went to get himself promoted, so that the previous Viscount could not protest to his son’s match as much as he might have done were he still a gentleman farmer. Why do you think he is here now? He has been waiting for the old Viscount to no longer stand in his way."

“I thought he had come to see you,” said Inej reproachfully.

“Oh, he has, I dare say, and he will not have presumed he might get a chance with the Viscount— but it will have crossed his mind. Happily for our friend the Captain, I believe in debts paid, and I think pushing him over the precipice into advantageous marriage is not a bad payment for a life saved.”

It happened quite as the Captain had predicted; either he had a particular foresight, or he was simply very astute at predicting the motivations of his friend. The Viscount looked quite startled, and then quite overjoyed, to see Captain Fahey in their company, and he had barely been with them for ten minutes before Fahey cracked entirely, and begged a private audience with him. The Captain, in such caustic tones of false surprise that Wylan glared at him, granted it, and they waited a mere five minutes before they reappeared. It was not necessary to inform anyone of the development, given the shade of Wylan’s countenance and the fact that the Captain said archly; “I am quite sure that if the Viscount had refused to die any sooner, you would have eloped like Mrs Helvar.”

He was told at once by both Fahey and Nina to be quiet and pick a good vintage for dinner, and it was quite settled; Captain Fahey was to be a Viscount’s husband, and Wylan was to bear the constant anxieties of having a naval husband at war; he would bear it stoutly, that Inej was certain of, but she did not envy him that particular fear. They made excessively and slightly too merry that night, and Inej woke up back at Geldings with a headache and only a vague recollection of how she had been conveyed hence, or of any particulars of the evening. She was quite sure Nina had sung, which was more than enough to induce a headache on its own, let alone with the additional influence of wine. Only Matthias had not over-indulged; everyone else looked sick and winced excessively at lunch, and Wylan turned a little green as the Captains discussed the specifics of Kaz's leg:

“...was it broken, in the end?”

“Quite broken, but only in one place; they were more concerned at the time with the blood lost and the size of the wound. I have a beastly line of stitching from knee to thigh that is only now beginning to heal over…”

Captain Fahey was an excellent addition to their party; buoyed by his engagement and very much in love with the Viscount, he made himself constantly obliging and constantly entertaining, and roped in the opposing tempers of the Captain and the Viscount; he talked at great length when they would not, laughed when the Captain frowned and the Viscount was hesitant, and he was charming when the other two lacked the sentiment. He had an inclination to be fashionable, which Nina enjoyed immensely; in him she had certainly found a like soul. Inej liked him very much; he was friendly and genial to everyone he met, fond of animals and children, a good rider and a brilliantly good shot. Even Matthias could not be immune to his charm; he confessed that while he might have found him a little tiresome, he was much better humoured than the Captain, and more forthcoming than Wylan. Captain Rietveld, she felt, was improved by Fahey’s company; the two of them had sailed together on the Hermes for two years, and both had a very sharp understanding of the other man’s character. There was an understanding between them that could not be rivalled.

One day, Inej rounded the corner on the second floor, and found Captain Fahey talking to Matthias by the window, muttering with their heads bent over a book— clearly only pretending to examine it. Anxious not to intrude, she retreated— but caught wind of their conversation, and hesitated.

“...exceedingly shocked that he seemed so composed. Perhaps he is indeed acting bitter and wearied, but the last time I saw him, he was screaming while I grappled with him in the shallows— though I couldn’t tell you if it was for Jordan, or because he was in pain. So anything is an improvement, damn it. I had to pry every one of his fingers from his brother’s waterlogged body, and drag him up the beach. Then I went back for Jordan.”

“Need you have done that? Surely his body would have been retrieved.” 

“Kaz would have shot me if I hadn’t. He held onto consciousness, and his pistol, like a rabid dog, and the damned medics took the longest time. I was quite sure he’d bleed out and I’d have to have both of their bodies shipped home…” 

“His man Specht thinks he did damage to his throat, but it could have been the smoke.”

“It could be. Couldn’t see a hand in front of my face. You had to get so low you were practically crawling.”

“And you were not injured?”

Fahey gave a bitter laugh.

“It’s the damnedest thing, Helvar. Can’t seem to ever win at a table, but in battle I have the most astounding luck. Some of the boys think I have some kind of divine intervention. I’d show them the debts I’ve just paid, if I thought it would convince them…”

Inej hovered— struck with guilt for listening, yet desperately curious, she struggled with herself. She felt she might have found the source of the Captain’s aversion to being touched, and it was excessively bleak. She might have guessed it was something to do with the navy. And she recalled a mention of Fahey’s gambling debts; clearly he had won the appropriate prize money to repay them, which was very good— but it explained why he did not play cards, and why Captain Rietveld and the Viscount had interceded on matters of being invited to card-parties.

She was about to leave, when she heard Captain Fahey say:

“What sort of a young lady is Miss Ghafa?”

Inej froze by the door. 

“A good sort,” said Matthias. “She is a great friend of Nina’s, and I like her a good deal. She is very accomplished, very intelligent, very pious. And she has a stout heart. Nina is fond of claiming she has a spine of steel.” 

Inej flushed in gratitude. She had never heard Matthias speak of her to anyone else, and she was abashed to hear him compliment her to an acquaintance. He was so reserved that she had never been quite sure what he really thought of her. 

“Why do you ask?” said Matthias.

“Oh— I liked her too, do not be alarmed. I merely wondered—”

Inej did not stay long enough to hear what it was that he had wondered, preferring to slip out the way she had come.

They were invited to a supper party at the Radmakker house the next week, a local merchant family who had been particular friends of the late Viscount. The Helvars and Inej had not been certain of attending the gathering, but all three of the young gentlemen were to go, and they felt it best to accompany them.

It was a large, well-appointed house, though a little archaic. Mrs Radmakker was most courteous; her husband was less so, and Inej thought him presumptuous and pompous. Still, he was apparently popular, and there were a great many people in attendance, not many known to Inej. She was relieved when the Captains and the Viscount arrived, but noted Captain Rietveld’s stony countenance almost immediately, though she did not understand it. He had been much better humoured while Fahey had been here; to see him return to silent ill temper now was alarming. 

Most of the party passed with no consequence; Captain Rietveld’s behaviour was explained only when Captain Fahey whispered to her, as they went through to hear some of the assembled play;

“Do you see that gentleman there, Miss Ghafa?”

“With the red hair?” 

“Yes— Lord Rollins. He was the man Jordan Rietveld went to for economic counsel after the death of their father, and he encouraged Jordan to make the investments that proved so poor for this family. He will have profited from the advice— he does not give it freely— and he did not come to the funeral, even though it was well within his means to do so. Captain Rietveld hates him with a fervour, and he will be exceedingly angry this whole night. Take pity on him.”

Well! That was something indeed. Inej had imagined that Jordan Rietveld had been led into poor investments by conmen, but this was a very grand sort of conman.

“Is it well-known in society that he is responsible? Do those here know?”

“I dare say so. But no one is so brave as to sever their acquaintance with him for the sake of the Captain, who may not afford them the same connections that Lord Rollins can…”

“That seems a poor sort of guest list indeed, to invite them both.”

“It is, but Radmakker has never been one for social politics… I have tried my best to soothe his temper, but I have had little success.”

Indeed, Inej had never seen the Captain look so angry; he was white around the lips and would not speak unless addressed. As they sat down, she told Nina and Matthias in a whisper what Captain Fahey had said.

“A bad business,” muttered Matthias from behind Nina's chair. “I think most people here do indeed know. I have heard snatches of it all night. I met Rollins once, a few years ago, and I did not like him then… I am not surprised, I own. Where is the Captain?”

Inej twisted around and found the Captain standing back with the other young gentlemen, face creased slightly. He was leaning rather hard on his cane, and his jaw was tense. Inej caught his eye, and he came to oblige her.

"Miss Ghafa?"

"Captain, pardon me, but I think you must sit down if your leg troubles you."

If it was plain to him that it was not his leg that she was considering, he did not acknowledge it.

"I thank you, but it is not so very bad."

"You look ill at ease, Captain. If you will not on your account, then I beg of you— sit with me. I know no one here and I am most dreadfully bored."

He smiled a little, and took the seat next to her. He did not seem to mind having his own phrasing used against him. 

“Do you not play, Mrs Helvar?” he asked Nina.

“Oh— Captain, no. My voice is terrible, and I have no patience for the pianoforte. My talents, such as they might be called, lie in languages.”

“She is affecting false modesty, Captain,” said Matthias. “She has six fluent, and is conversational in a seventh.”

“Seven! That is something.”

“It must be, Captain, for my singing is so deficient that I must have something to make up for it… Inej plays very well, however.”

The Captain seemed on the verge of commenting on that, but before he could, he looked past Inej, and his countenance turned so hard that Inej did not need to look, to know who was there.

“Captain Rietveld. Ladies. Mr. Helvar.”

Lord Rollins had approached them without her notice, and now he addressed them; Inej, horrified, dipped her head in a brusque bow, and held her breath as to the Captain’s response.

In a piece of particularly foolhardy bravery that had probably ensured both his success and his injury in the navy, Kaz cut Lord Rollins directly; he stared at him, quite hard and quite clearly, and then looked away as if they had never met at all.

Nina whistled quietly, and Inej tried not to wince. People had noticed— there was a distinct muttering and head turning going on. 

Rollins stared at Kaz for a moment, brow furrowed. He had evidently not expected the Captain to dare to cut him, which Inej felt was a lapse in judgement from anyone acquainted with the Captain. Finally, he gave up on him, and turned to Inej, which was most dismaying.

“Miss Ghafa, I believe?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The governess?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I hear you are very accomplished. I imagine you do not come cheap.” Nina frowned, and Inej prayed she would not say anything. “Were you not employed by the Marchioness Van Houden?”

Inej's throat caught. 

“I— was, sir.” She did not remember seeing him at any of the Marchioness’s parties, but that did not mean much, since she had avoided looking at the men as much as possible.

“A most excellent woman.” Rollins stared contemplatively at her— a little amused, but not in any way that was kind or charming. He was trying to provoke her; she would not let him. Inej dug her heel into Nina's foot, and she remained silent, but she was tight-lipped next to her. 

Inej said, in as cool a manner as she could muster, opening her fan briskly:

“Are you well acquainted with her, sir?”

“Oh— yes. I often attended her supper parties. I fancy I may have seen you at some of them.”

He threatened her! He actually did. He was trying to show her that he knew the full extent of her dismissal. Did he think to ruin her reputation further than it had been cast down? To embarrass her in front of the Captain and the Helvars? He was foolish. It would have been sensible to be afraid of him, and afraid of what he could do— but Inej did not feel sensible. She was angry in a way she had not been for quite some time.

“I hope you did enjoy them, sir. She has a reputation for being quite a formidable hostess.” She thought quickly, and then said, more loudly than necessary: “Now that I think of it, I do think I may recall seeing you. Did you ever bring your wife to attend the saloons? I am sure you were with a lady.”

He stiffened. “I— did not.”

“That is peculiar.” Inej said gaily. “I was certain that many men had brought ladies with them. Perhaps I am mistaken, and I did not see you with anyone at all.”

She had not seen him at all, as it happened— but he seemed like the sort of man who would have flirted and philandered excessively with Heleen’s friends, as most of the men had. It was a gamble, but Rollins’ jaw worked in irritation.

“It seems you may be—- mistaken.”

“How silly of me.” Inej stared at him, quite still but for the beat of her fan in her hand. He kept her gaze for a moment— then looked away, clearing his throat. 

"Do you play, Miss Ghafa?" he said at last.

"I do, sir." said Inej triumphantly.

“Very well?”

“Well enough, I dare say,” said Inej. Behind them, Rollins’s niece, festooned in red ribbons and lace, was labouring through a march on the pianoforte. She kept missing notes.

“Pekka, man, don’t be so foolish— of course the governess plays,” said Mister Radmakker loudly from nearby. “Will you not play something for us next, Miss Ghafa?”

“If it pleases you, Mr. Raddmaker, I should be very much at your disposal.”

“You do not seem to have your music with you, however,” began Rollins—

"I do not need it, sir, I thank you,” said Inej pertly. She rather thought she saw Captain Rietveld smirk, but when she glanced at him his countenance was as impassive as it ever was. Rollins’s niece finished to applause, and Inej rose to take her place. She smiled blankly into both men’s faces, curtsied, and strode across to take her place on the stool, deciding on the most difficult piece she could possibly recall.

She returned a little while later, to surprised applause and the smile of the Captain, who no longer seemed quite as angry as he had been.

“You play exceedingly well, Miss Ghafa. My presumption of you as highly accomplished is yet to be proven wrong. Brava.”

“Most young ladies are accomplished, Captain. And I would hardly have been qualified to be a governess if I was not learned enough to teach something.”

“Most young ladies do not have entire Bach Preludes memorised, to be summoned at any given moment,” said the Captain. “Most impressive.”

Inej could not hide a blush, and dug about for her fan, in order to conceal it. 

It rained hard by the time they were to leave, and there was a bustle in the foyer as ladies searched for umbrellas and shawls and huddled for shelter in the entryway.

“Oh, spare me,” sighed Nina, watching the rain bounce from the cobbles and the tops of the slowly departing carriages. “We shall have to wait forever—”

“Take my carriage, Mrs Helvar, it is out before yours, and I do not mind waiting.”

It was the Captain, leaning on the wall behind them. Nina, clearly tired and hungry, lit up.

“That is kind, Captain— but you should at least come with us, there will be room. The Viscount and Captain Fahey will certainly manage alone…”

“I dare say they will.”

And so they were conveyed— Inej found herself seated next to the Captain, which embarrassed her for some reason she could not really articulate. She tried her best to avoid letting her arm press against his, mindful of his discomfort when he had been touched by the physician, but he made it unnecessary by turning to look thoughtfully at her, when the door slammed and the carriage jerked forward.

“I have never once before seen Rollins rendered speechless, Miss Ghafa. I cannot say I was sorry to see him humbled. It was the greatest entertainment of my life; I shall treasure it. Who was it you saw him with? An unmarried woman?”

Inej allowed herself a smile.

“Captain, I must own that I never saw him at all. It was a bluff.”

Nina burst into laughter. The Captain’s eyebrows rose.

“A bluff!” repeated Matthias.

“Perhaps you do not need the Captain’s help with cards after all,” said Nina smilingly. Inej shrugged.

“If he was at the Marchioness’s saloons, he seemed the type of man to flirt with the ladies that were there. I never did see him, but she hosted so many people that it means very little that he never crossed my gaze. Clearly I was not mistaken.”

“He is known in gentleman’s circles for being unfaithful,” said Matthias. “You insinuated what was already whispered, and he probably feared that you could confirm it. Speaking of gentleman’s circles— Captain, you risk much by cutting him. The cut direct, too! You are very brave, or very foolish.”

“It was very grand, Captain,” said Nina. “I was most impressed. It had magnitude.”

Matthias shook his head dubiously. “It may yet backfire, Rietveld.”

“I risk nothing,” said the Captain. “I do not desire his society, or that of those who value him.”

“He may challenge you,” warned Matthias.

“I should very much like him to.”

“He will not seriously challenge you to a duel, Captain?” said Inej, alarmed. Matthias scoffed.

“The Captain would surely like an excuse to shoot at Lord Rollins, I dare say— but an old gentleman like Rollins will never challenge a rabidly angry young soldier, who harbours a personal vendetta… and is not likely to miss.”

“It is Fahey who is the guaranteed marksman of us all,” said the Captain, but he stared in his blank, cool way out of the window and did not look at them.

But when they had all gone quiet, Inej risked a glance at him, and found him facing her; he smiled at her. It was a milder sort of expression than she usually saw on his face— she thought it might have been gratitude. 

The next morning, a letter from her father. It was the most welcome distraction in the world for Inej, who still felt cross and slightly out of spirits, and she hastened to find somewhere to sit and read it. 

As usual, Mr. Ghafa seemed in a good temper, but there was very little that could dent the spirits of her father. He reported that her mother was well, that his work went pleasingly, and that they missed her; they had been to call on their friends the Bajans for dinner a few times, and reported that their son was a good sort of fellow. He asked after Nina and Matthias, questioned about her new acquaintances, and told her which of the spring flowers in the window boxes had started blooming, and which they were still waiting for. He told her that one of the cats was sitting on his knee as he wrote, and alleged that they missed her too.

Struck with a sudden bout of homesickness, Inej set the letter down on her knee and fought not to cry. She had not seen her parents since they had visited her briefly two Christmases ago, and she missed them badly. If Van Houden had been decent enough to give her the last of the money she was owed, she would have long been able to take herself to visit them; as it stood, she could not go.

She only realised Captain Rietveld was there when she heard his gait. She hastily stood up and curtsied as he entered, hoping he would not note the redness of her nose and eyes.

“Miss Ghafa.” He bowed solemnly, looked closely at her. “Are you well?”

He was damnably perceptive.

“I am well.” His knee was still braced, but he was wearing boots and had his cane, which spoke to the possibility that— “Captain, did you walk here?”

He looked rather pleased with himself.
“I did. Rotty will be cross with me, I suspect, but I could not tolerate putting out a carriage, it is very tedious. I like very much to have my sovereignty restored to me at last.”

She was sure he did, which was reasonable for anybody— though he in particular was most wilful.

“I suspect the Viscount will try to send you back with his,” said Inej, sitting back down.

“When it comes to sheer willpower, I tend to win over the Viscount.” That was true, Inej thought. He invited himself to sit down nearby, but she did not miss the wince when he was forced to bend his bad leg. He gestured at the letter. “You have correspondence?”

“From my parents,” Inej said, despairing at his incessant curiosity.

“I hope they are well.”

“They are. They tell me of our shared acquaintances in London and write that they miss me. And of the cats.”

He smiled.

“The cats, of course. Have you been home to see them lately?”

Inej said, tightly: “I have not. I last saw them two Christmases ago. I wish that I might, for I do miss them terribly— but no.”

"Why do you not go?"

Inej said, quietly: "Nina has promised she will take me when she goes to town in the autumn, but I will not ask her to go before then. She has done far too much for me already, and it is a strain on her. And I may not take myself, Captain, because I certainly cannot afford to go. I have not received—"

She cut herself off, but it was too late.

"You have not been lately paid for your position as a governess," he said.

"No," said Inej. She gritted her teeth, and drew herself up. "I am sure you have heard rumours. Rollins alluded to them, and so did I, last night."

"Most of the gossip I hear is pulp nonsense," said the Captain, unruffled. Inej, who had long suspected him to be a great enjoyer of scandal sheets, was a little indebted to him for trying to spare her feelings, and for being convincing in the act of doing it.

"Well, it is true that... that her ladyship turned me out of the house. I do not know what you hear of her—"

“The Marchioness Van Houden was quite infamous amongst the naval men from the Midlands,” said Captain Rietveld. “She is not… well liked. She is rich, and holds great balls, but she is not well-liked.”

Inej said nothing.

“I gather her reputation is well-deserved.”

“I may not say.”

The Captain snorted.

“I suppose she turned you out at a reasonable time, with reasonable warning? I suppose she gave you time to collect your affects? I suppose she was most polite and apologetic?” 

“Who—”

“No one has said anything to me, but I know such women as she.”

Inej stared at her hands. 

“Well. It was not—”

The Captain said, quietly:

"I know the sorts of things that befall governesses at the hands of their employers— and their employer’s guests— Miss Ghafa. Do not trouble to explain it to me if it pains you.”

Inej shot him a startled glance. She was sure he must have heard something, from Nina or from Matthias, or even from another source, perhaps the gentleman’s club— but he looked evenly at her, though his brow was furrowed and she thought she detected a glimmer of that hard anger he had used to wear around the previous Viscount. 

Presently, he said: “Why did you come with the Helvars, Miss Ghafa? Even if you did not have much choice in the matter, you do not seem displeased to be here.”

Inej folded and refolded her letter, wondering how she might answer him. Finally, she said:

“The role of the governess, Captain, is a singular one. Not so genteel as to be part of the family, but not quite one of the servants, either. Not a mother, but more involved with the children day-to-day than the true mother. A young— a young unmarried woman in a house with older men. My solution to these problems was to go as entirely unseen as possible. I became very good at it; if I wished for it, I was invisible. If I do not wish to be noticed, I rarely am. It did not save me, of course— I was distracted, the night I was turned out, and I allowed myself to make some transgression that let the Marchioness single me out to the party’s notice, and— well, it does not matter now. But I was turned out, and I wished I had been better at it— that I had caught nobody’s eye at all. But gradually, in the company of the Helvars, and in my own society once more, I have decided that— that I could not have done anything differently. And so I do not wish to be invisible any longer, Captain.”

She looked at last at him, and found only silent attentiveness. She looked away, a little abashed. “But it is very hard. I played last night, and challenged Lord Rollins last night, in the hope to retain a little dignity. If I am to be a poor old maid, I wish at least to be one who is known, and known for something, in my own society— even if it is only accomplishments and brazenness. I feel that is a better fate, than to fade away entirely— do you not think so?” She could not bear to look at him— she was sure she sounded desperate. “Perhaps it is foolish. Perhaps I am failing. I know not. But—”

“I do not think it is foolish. And I do not think you are failing.” It was spoken with utter conviction.

“You are kind—” Inej began desperately—

“Mrs Helvar brags excessively about you, do you know that?” said the Captain. Inej, who had not known (though might have guessed), sat silent. “Even when you are not with her. So does her husband, if less emphatically. Captain Fahey and the Viscount like you very much. And I—” he hesitated. “And I think it would be the most terrible waste, for a woman such as yourself to go unremarked upon. For I think you are the most remarkable creature in the world.”

Inej stared at him, quite lost for words. He flushed and looked away, frowning deeply. 

“Captain—” Inej paused, and then said: “Captain, how is that you always see me?”

“I am sure I do not know your meaning.” 

“I say I may go unseen, but that is not quite true. No matter how far away I sit, or how dour a manner I dress in, no matter how busy the room, or if I have said not a word the entire engagement— you are somehow always quite certain where in the room I am. You will find me upon your first glance. I do not understand it. How?”

“...Miss Ghafa,” said the Captain, after a little pause, “I confess that I do not know.”

Inej did not know why, but she did not believe he was telling the truth.

It was settled they were to return to Trasselwood three weeks hence; Matthias and Nina agreed that they had been away too long. The Captain had plans to go to town; the Rietveld family had long rented a house not far from Mayfair, and he admitted he had put off his London acquaintances long enough. He must go; he was recovered enough in health and spirits to have no excuse. Inej was disappointed to find the group she had found so much pleasant company in was breaking up, but she owned it was sure to have happened at some time.

“Viscount, this room is quite large enough for dancing,” said Nina, one evening at Geldings. “Do you ever hold balls?”

“My father did, on occasion.” He looked at her, and said; “Mrs Helvar, if you are thinking of encouraging me to hold a ball before your departure, I will do so. Is that what you wish?”

Nina’s eyes gleamed. “Viscount, I would wish that very much.”

From that point on, she was thrilled; Nina loved to dance, loved to socialise, and loved to dress for balls. Captain Fahey declared himself similarly delighted, and even Captain Rietveld and Matthias could be prevailed upon to express interest and anticipation to some degree. Inej was not certain in herself how she should feel. She had not been to a ball as anything but a chaperone for Van Houden’s children for several years, and she felt sure that she would not be asked to stand up. She had long lost any bloom she might have had, and she would not blame the eligible gentlemen in attendance for opting to ask younger, richer ladies instead. Perhaps Captain Fahey or the Viscount might take pity on her, but they were very much enamoured of one another, which was to be expected; and it would be poor indeed to expect a rescue from Captain Rietveld. His limits were known only to himself, but she knew he expected to limp all his days, and she would never think of inducing him to it, if it would cause him pain. It would surely be a pleasant affair, whether she was asked to dance or not— there was nothing poor in watching the crowd at a ball, and one was certain to have a good amount of gossip by the end of it— to but the idea that she might be passed over possessed her more than she would have cared to admit. There was nothing to be done for it. She concerned herself with altering the embroidery on her gown and ignoring the Captain, who was uncommonly interested in what she was doing, and kept coming to look at her sewing under the pretence of taking a turn for the benefit of his leg. 

The night of the ball, Nina fussed quite incredibly; Inej felt that if Nina had any daughters, she would be the most bothersome mamma who ever lived, and constantly stopped her from trying to alter some thing or another. She was sure that Nina felt her agitation, and was trying to divert her; for that she was grateful, at least.

It was a very busy occasion, and Inej saw the arrivals of dozens upon dozens of people she did not recognise, all dressed in excessive ball finery. Nina was immediately diverted by an acquaintance, so Inej contrived to walk off alone and watch the crowds, impressed that Wylan had so many acquaintances to invite. She did not see Captain Rietveld, but that was not surprising; it was so busy that she might see no one at all she knew, if they were not in the immediate line of her eye. She had assumed that he would come; she hoped that he would not change his mind. Even if he did not dance, she would like to sit with him, and she was sure that he would have many arch things to say about the attendees. 

Seeing no one that she knew, Inej sat down near the whist table and examined her skirts, feeling ill at ease. She had only one dress for balls, and it was no bad thing, but she wished a little that she had another. Her rework on the embroidery was tolerable, but she might have been a little neater on the left side. The hall was already loud, and hot. Men drank and laughed raucously, and Inej opened her fan nervously, hoping for the dancing to start as a distraction. It was not so bad as the Marchioness’s saloons, but she did not quite like to be here alone—

She felt, quite suddenly, that she was invisible again. Inej looked this way and that, hoping quite desperately for a familiar face. Surely they had met enough people in their time here for someone to note her, to speak with her? She must have made some impact. Perhaps it would be better if she went and played; there was an instrument in the other room. Or she should join a card-game, when those began. The dancing should begin soon, and that would be entertainment, of a sort, would it not? She was not sure; she did not know. 

It was in this agitated state of mind that she sat, until a voice broke into her reverie;

“Do you not dance, Miss Ghafa?”

Inej looked up, quite astonished. 

“Captain Rietveld?” 

For it was he who had approached her, seemingly from nowhere— she had not heard him, not seen him, until this moment. Had she not expected him to avoid the dances? 

“You surely cannot mean—”

“I think I can,” said the Captain lightly. 

“But—” she hesitated. 

“It is my leg, and I think I know how well I might manage.” said he. She could not begrudge him that, but indeed that had not been her protest.

“No— forgive me, but— Captain, I was under the impression you did not like to be touched.” 

He hesitated, a little surprised. “...I confess I did not think anyone had noticed that.”

“I had noticed,” said Inej stoutly. He paused— he exhaled.

“Well, as I say— I should not have asked you if I thought it was beyond me. We both wear gloves, do we not? We are proper. Unless, of course, you would prefer me to hold your reticule, in which case I’m sure Fahey could be convinced—”

Inej laughed incredulously. It was not a demure sound, but he did not seem to mind.

“Captain Rietveld, you are quite intolerable, and you are going to do yourself some serious mischief.” 

She got very deliberately to her feet, and looked hard at him. “You are quite— certain?”

She did not know what it was that she doubted; his claim to managing on his injured leg— or if he would be happy to let her be so close to him— or that he was asking her at all? All three seemed to sink her certainty, to make her hesitant and agitated.

“Of course.” He was not teasing her any longer; he did not even seem arch. He looked quite seriously at her. 

She took his offered hand, hoping he would not notice that she trembled a little, and smiled at him. She was sure it seemed a very weak expression, but it was truly meant.

“Then I will stand up with you, Captain. Thank you.”

His expression softened.

“You do me a great honour,” he said, and Inej thought he really did believe it.

They took their places in the set, and Inej noted the eyes they drew; Captain Fahey stared overtly down the set in amazement, and mouthed something at the Captain that went entirely ignored. 

Inej was not sure what to say to him, and so they stood for a moment in silence; for once the Captain did not seem certain of what to say to her, either. He treated many people with silence, but Inej flattered herself that he usually had something to say to her. She fancied him distracted, but when she risked to meet his eye, he was not; he was looking at her, quite closely. Inej suddenly could not help but think him handsome; she had always noted distantly that he was well-looking, but now it seemed very clear that she admired him, and it embarrassed her. 

“Miss Ghafa,” said he, rather suddenly, as they moved down the set, “Do you embroider chamomile petals on most of your sewing? It seems to me that they are your favourite.”

Inej stared at him, startled. He had truly noted the new embroidery on her gown, and had not merely been attempting to vex her by peering at her sewing— she had not expected that. But he liked to notice everything, did he not?

“I— they are, as it happens.” They stepped closer to each other, as the dance demanded, and Inej was forced to tip her head back a little to look him in the eye. If he was in pain, he hid it very well indeed, and showed nothing of it in his mien. “I did not think you easily recognised flowers. You asked after the geraniums I sewed for my mother.”

“Ah,” said he. The couples around them drew together, the lady held by the waist— he tilted his head a little, in silent question, and she nodded. His hand found her waist, quite carefully. “I must confess that I lied to you, Miss Ghafa.” 

“Is that so?” Inej felt her grip on his other hand was too tight, but could not find it in herself to release him in the slightest.

“I knew what it was that you sewed, but I wanted an excuse to make conversation with you. It was a poor pretence, I own, and it was not successful, but it was an attempt.”

Inej smiled. “You do not need any sort of pretence to speak with me, Captain.”

“I know that now, I think…”

He released her, and they moved away, where Inej met Nina’s ecstatic gaze; when they returned to one another, he whispered to her;

“I did not think that the Dowager Viscountess would be here. Whatever happened to seclusion and quiet for the baby?” 

“The Viscount thinks she has a beau in town that she wants to ask after,” Inej murmured. “Nina was telling me so.”

“Does she? We shall have to investigate.”

“What do you possibly hope to do with the information?”

“Be a terrible busybody and gossip, naturally. There is no greater entertainment.”

Inej laughed. She could not admonish him; he was right. “Captain, you must remember that you are an eligible young gentleman, not an underemployed spinster. If anyone is to be a spinster, it will be me, so I expect you will gather all the town intelligence possible and tell it to me, so that we may discuss it and be very interfering.”

He smiled, but it was a little creased. Their fingers were locked, again; Inej could feel the warmth and pressure of his hand, even through their gloves.

“I do not think that is your destiny, Miss Ghafa,” he said quietly.

Inej could think of nothing to say to that, and he had nothing else to offer. They danced the rest of the set in silence, but Inej kept her focus on that cool black gaze— and as a result felt deeply discomposed when the dance ended, and the couples dispersed. She must have seemed off-balance, because Kaz retrieved her fan and reticule, and his cane, and took her arm gently to steer her to a cooler corner, where the windows had been opened. Mr. Radmakker was nearby, and called out to them to compliment the Captain on how superior a manner he danced in, especially with regard to his leg. Though he replied cordially enough, the Captain’s countenance became a little sharp; Inej did not think he had wished for it to be commented on in unfamiliar company, which was not unreasonable. 

“I must thank you,” he said to her once Radmakker had gone. “The last ball I attended was—” he hesitated, then said with some difficulty: “It was with my brother, and so I did not particularly wish to come here tonight. You have been, as ever, a much appreciated companion to a miserable wretch, but you must not think me ungrateful— though I wish you would not give up so much of your time to me, if you have a desire to be elsewhere.”

“I have no desire to be elsewhere,” said Inej. “You have rescued me from considerable boredom and solitude, so it is you who I should thank.” she paused. “I am sure I must have said so, but I am sorry for your brother.”

He shook his head, staring out at the crowd. He seemed to have nothing to say— and then he said:

“He spent almost the whole night with his fiancé. They were supposed to be married when he next had leave from the navy. I am going to call on her when I am in town— I hear she still wears mourning for him.”

It was strange, to feel desperately sad for a girl whose name she did not know and who she had never met, but Inej wished her peace anyway.

“Poor girl— I hope she does not suffer too dreadfully.”

“We must all suffer,” said the Captain. “But some of us are afforded more kindness in our suffering than others.”

They looked out on the crowd, and were silent, but Inej felt his hand beside hers.

Nina climbed into her bed much later that night, rather drunk. Inej groaned and buried her head under her pillow.

“Inej, pray do not ignore me! We have so much to discuss.”

“Do we, in truth?”

“Captain Rietveld?!”

“It was excessively kind of him, he dances well, and he held his tongue most impressively the whole night. He did not make me cross once. What of it?”

“Oh! Inej, you are the most obtuse creature in the world.”

“I know what it is you imply, but I say that you embroider your own impression upon it.” 

“Do I? Truly? You seemed most pleased at the end of the night.”

In truth, she had been— she had come up to bed in a much better spirit than she had gone down. The Captain had danced twice more with her and given her half his piquet winnings— claiming she was his luck, when Inej knew staunchly she was not— and Wylan had claimed her hand for the closing dance, which had been pleasant.

Nina huffed. “Well, you danced exceedingly prettily, and looked very well. I drank lots and danced more— I am satisfied.”

“You shall be sorely sick and cross tomorrow. Poor Matthias.”

“Oh, he swore that was his duty to tolerate when he married me,” said Nina, waving a hand idly. 

Inej looked at the embroidery on the eiderdown, and sighed. “Nina, he guessed correctly.”
“What do you mean?”

“The Captain. He realised that I always embroider chamomile, and mentioned it to me. He asked if it was my favourite.”

“Oh! Your father’s proverb about the favourite flower…” Nina thought, and then said, “Oh— well! Inej, you tell me not to speak to you of the Captain, and then you say this?”

“Oh, shush. He is going to town; we will not see him soon.” 

They were silent, for a little while. Inej said: “Do you never miss your father, Nina?”

“Sometimes, a little. But he was not truly very good to me, so I am not on the whole sorry.” she smiled. “I much prefer your father. I think I shall borrow him, I like him exceedingly.”

Inej laughed.

“I will share him, I do not mind. I think he always wished for another daughter.”

“I will put it to him when we see him in the autumn. I am only sorry I cannot take you to town sooner.”

“Do not be sorry. I am already badly obliged to you.”

“No!” cried Nina. “You owe me nothing. We are friends, and I am happy to have you with me.” Inej squeezed her hand in gratitude, then swatted at her when she looked a little arch, and said: “Perhaps we should entreat the Captain to take you.”

“Absolutely we should not. He would do it, and then I would be even more badly obliged, in two directions.”

“Hm! Probably. He is a good fellow. I am sorry I abused him so, at first.”

“I am not. He was most terrible.”

They laughed.

“But I think,” Inej said, after a pause. “That I shall miss him badly when we leave.”

“Oh, there is no question of that. Do not look so, I am not wrong to have noticed!”

“Nina, I am not in danger.”

“Are you not? For I think he is terribly in danger.”

“Do not tease me.”

“I do not, I would not.”

“You tease me all the time.”

“Not about gentlemen!” 

It was true that out of a conscientious concern for Inej’s treatment at the Marchioness’ house, she usually did not try to match-make her. Inej could not find an argument, so she remained silent. 

Nina, a romantic at heart, started singing, which was no good on several levels:

“All in the Downs the fleet lay moored, / The streamers waving in the wind!” 

Inej tried desperately to shush her, to no avail. “Nina—”

“When black-eyed Susan came on board; / ‘Oh, where shall I my true-love find? / Tell me you jovial sailors, tell me true / If my sweet William sails among your creeeew—”

“Nina! You are abominable, and have an abominable voice, be quiet!”

Nina laughed heartily, and eventually Inej joined her.

They went back to Trasselwood, and Inej tried not to act so bereft as she felt. She missed the society of the Viscount and the Captains, and the variety of people they had seen there; Trasselwood was a small parish, and she knew most of its inhabitants, and did not mark many of them. A piece of good news did follow them back, which was something; the Viscount and Captain Fahey were married upon the following Sunday, by special licence. A short note from Captain Rietveld acknowledged that it had been an unpretentious but pleasant affair, attended only by himself, Lady Alys, Captain Fahey’s father, and a few local friends of Wylan’s.

“Fahey begged that I should do the ceremony for them,” said Matthias, “But I fancy he was not serious, and it would not have been proper. But that is good news.”

“Captain Fahey is much advantaged, to be sure!” said Nina brightly. “Let us hope he will always feel generous...” She saw her husband’s look. “Matthias, I jest. And be happy, of course… oh, Inej, you have a letter!”

“For me?” Inej, standing by the window, took it and slit it open. She found an unfamiliar hand, likely a scribe’s hand. “I do not know what—”

The words registered to her, and she sat down very quickly.

“Inej?” said Nina, but she sounded very far away. 

“She has sent my pay,” Inej whispered, feeling distant and a little unwell. 

“Van Houden?!” Nina rushed to her side.

“She apologises… she owns it was a wrongful dismissal… she sends me a full sum of—”

Inej read the sum at the bottom and pressed the paper to her mouth in shock. Nina pried it from her and gasped.

“That is far more than you were owed! Even with what she made you pay back to her!”

“I do not understand how—” Inej paused, feeling quite dizzy. Nina was gripping her arm. “Nina, it does not make any sense.”

“Someone has hired a lawyer,” said Nina, squinting at the page as Matthias strode over to look, as well. “That is the only solution— and they shook Van Houden down until her very teeth rattled. You have extra payouts for wrongful dismissal, unlawful treatment, withholding earned pay and forced repayment, and they've wrung a written reference and apology out of her, too—” She laughed incredulously. “Inej, this is good news indeed!”

“But who? Who has hired a lawyer?” said Inej hopelessly. “I do not understand— we do not know any lawyers. It was not you—?” 

“No— you know we were trying, but we did not get half so far as that, it is beyond our means… could it have been your parents?”

“I doubt that Papa could afford it, either…”

“Oh, look, Matthias—” Nina handed the letter to her husband and flung herself down next to the trembling Inej. “Inej— this is more than enough to go to London and visit your parents.”

Inej stared at her. 

“It is. I had not even thought—” 

She could go home; she could go tomorrow, even today, if she so wished— go to see her parents and the cats, and the spring flowers her mother planted in the window boxes. And it would not be in a letter, or in her memory— she would actually be there.

Inej could not help it; she started to cry. Nina bundled her into her arms and squeezed her tightly—

“Nina. Miss Ghafa.”

Both of them turned to Matthias, who was looking carefully at the letter, brow drawn.

“If I am not very much mistaken,” said he, “This is a particular work of an acquaintance of ours.”

“What?” said Nina. “Who? Matthias, do not vex me—”

“It is the Captain,” said Matthias slowly. “Captain Rietveld.”

Inej’s heart seized. Nina blinked. 

“He hired a lawyer—?”

But Matthias shook his head. 

“Rietveld was first trained as a lawyer, Nina– do you not remember? The late Viscount said he was. I do not believe he quite finished his training, but I think he guessed correctly that the Marchioness would not know that. I have since met classmates of his, who said he was ruthlessly good at it— which was why it was such a blow that his brother was scammed like he was… well, what of that? It's Rietveld, I'm certain of it. I do not know how he knows, but it has his fingerprints all over it.”

“Captain Rietveld!” marvelled Nina. “Can it really be? Now that you mention it, I remember that he practised law, but who could possibly have told him—?”

“I told him.” Inej's voice was high and thin and not her own. She stared at her hands in her lap. “I told him before he went to London. I had quite forgotten his legal training, he— he was there when I was reading a letter from Papa, and he asked why I could not visit them, and I… told him. But he did not say anything, I was sure he had forgotten— how could he have—”

Such feelings were not easily expressed, and she quickly drew herself to a halt, uncertain what it was she should say. She looked at Nina, and found her excessively sly.

“...well,” said she, mercifully deciding not to speak of whatever she thought of, “You really ought to pack.”

So it was arranged that she would go that very night, and Matthias proved himself most efficient; while Inej and Nina fussed extremely and seemed to pack everything quite incorrectly in their haste, he ordered a carriage, withdrew enough of Inej’s money for her to travel with, placed the correct documents into a file for her, and arranged for her to break the journey at an inn in Stratford. Upon his return, he found her cloak when she and Nina could not find it for anything. Inej felt the most overwhelming gratitude towards him, but he did not want it. 

“Mr Helvar, I do not know what I should say.”

“Say nothing, for nothing should be said,” said he. “I might always do my duty, Miss Ghafa.”

He pressed her hand as he helped her into the carriage, and she smiled at him— much obliged, even if he did not want to hear of it.  

“You must write to us when you get to your parents, to let us know that you have got there safely and in good time,” Nina was saying. “We will see you when we come to town in the autumn, be sure of it—”

“Nina, she knows this,” said Matthias gently. “And I am sure she will write to us.”

“Oh— yes! Well—” Nina kissed her, slipped a box of marzipan into her hand that she had produced from somewhere on her person— Inej laughed— and hopped down from the carriage step. “And if you do happen to see Captain Rietveld in town…”

“Drive, please, Mr. Smith,” groaned Inej. Nina’s laughter, and her waving, followed her out onto the path.

With no time to warn her parents, they were exceedingly surprised and overjoyed to see her; Inej herself was thrilled to return to the cramped London terrace that the Ghafas had long called home. Her parents had known the reason she had been turned out of Stavewell, and had long been able to simmer in their resentment on the matter; now, the Marchioness and her guests were most fantastically abused, to heights that even Nina had not achieved, but Inej could not own that she was not a little gratified by it. And it was good to be able to read to her father in his study again, to walk the shopping-streets with her mother, to tend to the cats and the flowers. Her mother made her the orange cakes that she had always been partial to, and they went all together to call on their acquaintances and friends; it was the greatest pleasure in the world to be known merely as the Ghafas’ daughter again, and not the ex-governess of the Marchioness. Her parents kept only a small society, but it was not one that Inej could be dissatisfied with. She was perhaps a little faded, a little quieter— but she was not turned from or disparaged, and everyone they met seemed pleased with her, which was not nothing. It became a little puzzling, after a week or two, when her parent’s old acquaintances had still not ceased their praise for her; when another acquaintance asked her about the Radmakker’s supper party, she stared in confusion. 

“Miss Walton, who have you been speaking with?”

And then she discovered that she was being lauded behind her back, by a certain few gentlemen who she could not fail to recognise:

“Oh! We had Captain Fahey for dinner last week. He is in town for business— he was very pleased indeed to hear that we knew your family; he thinks you an accomplished young lady of the highest order, and would barely speak of a thing else. And my sister saw Captain Rietveld at the opera and he asked after you, utterly without being prompted! You must be impressive indeed, my dear, for so many young naval men to ask after you and speak of you… and officers, too!”

So they had not forgotten her; they remembered her yet, they looked for her and spoke of her. The thought gratified her immensely, and she did take to casting an eye over passing gentlemen as they made house calls and walks, in the hope that she might see them in passing. 

But she knew in her heart that this was not a state in which she could persist, however happy the existence; her parent’s situation had barely improved since she had left, and when her father grew too old to work, she would not be supported almost at all. She knew in her heart that she would need to look again for work, but the idea of returning to a situation like Stavewell was so dreadful that she could almost not tolerate it.

“I suppose that I should look for work again,” she told her mother one morning, re-embroidering a hat for her. “Perhaps something closer to home. I am sure there should be a town lady who needs a governess.”

“Oh— Inej, you must not think of it! You have barely come home.”

“Mama, I must. But I should like to find a kinder mistress, this time. Nina has promised me that I should be governess to her children when she should have some— but it is not truly within her means, and she does not have any children as of yet. I may be supported on my final payout for a little while, but it is not indefinite.”

Mrs Ghafa was not one of those mammas that succumbed to obsession around her daughter's chances of marriage— but her lively spirit and good humour meant she was easily amused, and she was partial to tease her daughter about most things. 

“Did you really meet no gentlemen at Geldings, Inej? I find that very unlikely.”

“Mama, I met many such gentlemen— but if you are asking me if I received proposals, then I must disappoint you.”

“Hmm.” Her mother looked piercingly at her, but she did not press. “Well, we are lucky that the Marchioness came to her senses, and saw fit to pay you...”

“Yes,” said Inej, snapping a thread and examining her work. “Lucky indeed.”

They went the next day to a benefit concert near Mayfair, one that the Bajans had a hand in organising. Inej resumed her habit of looking here and there for the countenances of the Captains— but was considerably startled to actually turn and meet the very eye of Captain Rietveld, standing only a little way away from them, seemingly not in company.  

“Captain!” Inej cried, in a certain amount of shock. His face brightened. 

“Miss Ghafa, how do you do?” He really did walk better, Inej found; he was faster and lighter, if he still limped. “I heard from Helvar that you had been able to travel home at last— I am glad indeed.”

Inej looked hard at him for some indication of knowing more than he should— but there was nothing, and his face was quite controlled. He had not wanted her to know of his interference in it, she had suspected that; but she was now not sure he would even admit to it if she asked him directly. It was possible, quite possible, that Matthias was wrong, and he had made no intervention— but she remembered how he had looked when she had spoken of it, and she was sure Matthias was right. Captain Rietveld was the man who had done it; but for once in his life he kept his counsel, and he was silent. Strange, contrary creature! But her fondness for him outstripped her vexation, and she was satisfied. 

“You are very kind,” said she, and hoped he understood her. His face again gave nothing away; but his eyes stayed upon her, until she said: “Papa, Mama, this is Captain Rietveld, we met in —shire, at Geldings— Captain Rietveld, my parents.”

Inej prayed silently that his inclination for being rude would not overtake him, but for once he exerted himself to be a perfect gentleman, though she thought he did not miss the way that her mother’s eyes lit with distinct interest. Her father controlled himself better, but he was uncommonly interested, and she was sure he would have something to say to her when they returned home— they would both join Nina in teasing her intolerably. They spoke inconsequentially of the weather, mutual acquaintances, and the navy; Inej’s father had been raised in Portsmouth, and had plenty to say on the topic of ships. Her mother seemed to think she had gone without being tormented for too long, and she slipped in an enquiry after whether the Captain was married; he said he was not. His brother had been engaged before his death, he said, but he himself had been too concerned with his naval career to much consider young ladies. Her parents expressed that they were sorry for his brother, and Inej’s mother, ignoring all of Inej’s sharp looks and attempts to step on her foot, said:

“Well, now that you are in society indefinitely, perhaps you might think of it.”

“Perhaps I might,” said he, looking rather amused. Inej did not like their combination of arch manners and inclinations to tease, and conspired to separate them at the earliest opportunity, before they could drive her beyond her wits. It was all very well that her mother might tease and the Captain might be amused, but he had done nothing to declare himself— Inej was not confident that he would ever. She would not be teased, if he would not exert or express himself any further. She would be treated with dignity, or with no notice at all.

He went in with them, and Inej ended up seated next to him, which despite everything, pleased her, for it gave her an excuse to speak with him at the interval. She really thought nothing of the fine room, the notable people, or the performances; she liked the concert well enough, but her mind was really elsewhere.

She was caught by her mother and Mr Bajan when the first act ended, and did not have an opportunity to speak to Kaz until the fifteen minutes were almost up.

“Our joint acquaintances,” she told him when she once again sat down, “Tell me you enquired after me.”

“Oh— yes, I did so,” said he, looking at the head of his cane intently. “I heard a rumour that you were back in town and wanted to know if it was true, for it would have meant that—” 

They were cut off by the start of the next act, and were obliged not to speak. Inej was much disappointed, and sat considerably agitated through the rest of the music, shooting constant glances at him. She fancied he was also unsettled; his colour was high, and his jaw set in the way that it had when they had first known him at Crawley. She hoped he was not cross, but she somehow did not think he was— and it was this assumption that made her whisper, when the lights rose at the end of the performance:

“Captain, I know what you have done.”

“What is it that you think I have done?” said he, in carefully studied indifference.

Inej almost lost her nerve— she examined the slips of her fan closely, then she said:

“I have been paid what I am owed and more by the Marchioness. I was certain that I did not know any lawyers, but Mr. Helvar suspected the intercession bore the fingerprints of a certain acquaintance of ours, who had initially been trained as a lawyer. I recalled that not three weeks before I received that letter, I had told that same acquaintance that I was turned out, and why— and I recalled his habit of being very angry, on behalf of friends that he felt were wronged. I am very suspicious that he secretly interceded on my behalf.” She took a deep breath, and looked up at him. “Am I very much mistaken, Captain?”

He looked quietly at her; she felt the force of his gaze. It did not waver, even as around them, the audience applauded, and stood in ovation. They stood too, obliged by those rising around them. He did not look away from her.

At last, he said, quietly, but with a certain gravity: “You are not mistaken.”

Inej gripped the back of her chair tightly. He truly had intervened. It was one sort of thing to suspect; it was another to know. He had actually written to the Marchioness, might have even gone in person. 

“If it was a mistake, however, on my part—” he said—

“No. Captain—” Inej swallowed hard, aware that the crowd was starting to depart. “It was not a mistake. Not in the slightest. I fear that it is a kindness that I cannot repay. Indeed I am much obliged; I owe you a debt.”

“Miss Ghafa,” said he, smiling slightly, and still in high colour, “You owe me nothing. Goodnight.”

He bowed to her, took her hand, kissed it, and departed in silence from them.

What was she to do, under such a revelation? Inej did not know; she did not know what she had expected, in confronting him. Now, she was horribly overwrought; she could conclude only that he had meant to be kind, and had meant to do it covertly, in the same way he had scribed and read Wylan’s letters, and pushed Jesper towards him, and visited Jordan’s fiancée.

She might tolerably seem like herself to the Bajans, but she could not conceal her agitation from her parents, who noticed immediately— the second they were safely back in their carriage, she burst forth with it, and told them the entire business of the Captain’s intervention. They sat there, quite shocked— they did not know what to do— they had not expected such a thing. Captain Rietveld! They approved of him extremely, and liked him well— that was a great kindness. They did not care that Inej vouched for his crassness when he was less obliged to be polite— they did not care at all for that, not at all— and so soon after his naval discharge, and his brother! They thought they must call on him, or else pay him back. Inej fought to dissuade them:

“Papa, no— Mama, please. He hates being indebted, and I feel he did not mean to be found out. I do not suppose it even cost him anything, except time.” 

“Meja, I do not care if he is the very King— I would still feel obliged to call on him.”

“He is not the King, Papa, he is just a man, and he expected nothing. Perhaps he will be at the Bajan’s ball next week; you might talk to him there, and be satisfied.”

They agreed, but with spirits that made Inej think they would not drop the matter until they saw him— and she noted her father consulted the navy lists when they got home. She did not need to wonder who he was searching for.

But Captain Rietveld was not at the Bajan’s ball; Inej owned that she was very disappointed not to see him, and anxious at his absence. He had almost fled from her at the concert, she thought; indeed he must have retreated in uncertainty at being found out, and had not mustered the courage to find her since.

Inej resolved to attempt to enjoy the ball, regardless of his absence; there was nothing to be done about it as it stood now. As she had resolved at the concert, either he would act, or he would not; she would merely wait to see what he did. 

It was an agreeable enough occasion, and a smaller affair than the Geldings ball, and she was not half so anxious. Mr. Bajan kindly asked her to stand up with him for the second dance, and he was a perfectly agreeable partner. She thought her mother had long quite fancied him for a son in law, but he had an air of foppishness about him that Inej did not quite love, and she had heard rumours that he was enamoured with another lady. She thought to return to her seat, but before she could, she heard:

“Miss Ghafa, tell me your dance card is not full!” 

It was Captain Fahey, bounding up to her— the only other man with that title who might have raised her spirits at that moment; she was much relieved to see him. 

“Captain! It is not— I would be pleased to stand up with you.”

“Oh— I am honoured. I am not quite so desirable a partner for young ladies as Captain Rietveld is, I own, since I am after all a married man— but I promise I will make you a fine partner.”

“I am sure that you will.” said Inej laughingly, accepting his hand over to the sets. “Where is the Captain?”

“I am not sure, I must admit. I think he dined out tonight. Did you not see him at the concert? I know you were both in attendance.”

“I did— but he left in some haste, and did not say if he would be engaged over the next few days.” Inej hesitated, and once they had made their turns, she said: “I think that perhaps I scared him away very badly— I accused him of interference on the matter of my dismissal.”

“Oh? Did you really?”

“Captain, pray do not play coy, if anyone is in his confidence it is you,” Inej said sternly. “He confessed that he had indeed interceded, but he seemed most agitated, and almost fled from me.”

“Well…” They were broken briefly by the dance, and when they returned together, Jesper had gathered his thoughts. “I must admit that he was very angry for a good many days, and without telling me what it was he was angry about. Since he is often and easily vexed, I did not think much of it, but eventually Wylan realised this went quite beyond anything we had seen from him. I think he thought to protect your honour, but between us, Wylan and I knew enough to be able to piece it together— forgive us.”

“I do not mind. If I did not want you to, I should not have told you anything at all.”

“Truthfully, I do not think he intended to be found out, for he swore us both to secrecy. I imagine he did not have an idea of how he might address you if you confronted him.” He looked slightly mirthful. “His solution being to run away , however, is very poor for a soldier.”

“I am inclined to agree with you.”

Once the dance had ended, she expected him to abandon her— but in a moment of thoughtfulness that made Inej really love him, he sat down next to her and said, with a tinge of melodrama:

“I entreat you, Miss Ghafa: tell me of all of these people. I am a little poorly acquainted in London, and I think I do not recognise a single person except our shared acquaintance.”

“I will tell you of who I can, but I— good heavens, is that the Dowager Viscountess?”

For it was she, out of her seclusion and presumably delivered of her child. Inej and Jesper watched her moving purposefully through the crowd, apparently looking for someone, with a great deal of surprise. 

“But where is her child?” said Inej.

“I suppose with whoever she stays with,” said Jesper. “What on earth has she come here for?”

She was sure he knew, and indeed it was quickly apparent; Mr. Bajan was her object. Lady Alys minced towards him, fluttered her fan and giggled most outrageously at everything he said. For his part, he looked quite smitten, and he soon led her away towards the dancing with excessive gallantry. 

Jesper and Inej looked at each other, then looked quickly away so that they would not dissolve into mirth. 

“I had heard a rumour, but I did not honestly think…”

“Let us hope that Mr. Bajan will not mind raising the Viscount’s child,” muttered Jesper, mouth quirked.

“Are you so sure it is the Viscount’s child?” said Inej.

“Miss Ghafa!” said Jesper, in affected outrage, but he leant eagerly in. “Who told you? Even Wylan owns he is not certain… though he has seen the child, and thinks his eyebrows are more Bajan than Van Eck.”

They laughed very badly, but it was so noisy that no one would truly notice.

“I merely thought it likely,” Inej admitted, trying to use her fan to hide her laughter. “And I saw something I thought alluding to it in the scandal sheets… oh dear, I am not sure I blame her.”

“Oh, so the Captain has put you onto those, he is very bad. No, I am sure I do not blame her either. The old Viscount was very dreadful, and had bad teeth and no hair.”

“That is superficial, Captain.”

“It is, but it is true. More importantly, he was not at all kind to Wylan, and tried all sorts of schemes to be rid of Captain Rietveld and I. Sometimes we liked to imagine that every French marksman we saw at sea was actually sent by the Viscount to kill us both, for our poor influence on his son. He preferred Jordan Rietveld, for he was much more polite to him than Ka– than the Captain ever was, but of course he did not get the outcome he hoped for. None of us did.” He sighed, mirth dying a little. “Miss Ghafa, I have not appropriately thanked you.”

“What should you thank me for?”

“The second you arrived at Geldings, the Captain stopped harassing me with quite so many letters; I believe he ceased to be so bored, and I should thank you for diverting him, even if you would only argue with him at first.”

“I note he vexed me— but I take your point, I thank you.”

“The wretched man can not help himself, I fear. I used to want to throttle him when I had been stuck at sea with him for too long. He and I used to box to pass the time, but his brother put a stop to it after he made some comment or another about the Viscount, and I broke his nose in response.”

“You broke his nose?”

“Oh, did you notice?” said he, laughingly. “Yes— he was not very happy, and before we were broken up he cracked one of my back teeth with the return blow. I was sorry, but not quite as sorry as I might have been…”

They walked, and they met Lady Alys, her countenance quite pink from dancing and blushing. She told them brightly that she had been sure to tell all of her society friends how nicely Inej played and sewed and spoke French, and how well she danced, in case they knew of any suitors— and while it was affected and silly, Inej could not help but feel a little grateful to her. She was earnest; she did not mean to be rude, and Inej felt that even if she was a little ridiculous, it was well enough to be thought of, in company. She left the ball in much better spirits than she had come in.

Inej still did not see the Captain that she really wanted to see, but she was a little diverted— Nina came down from Trasselwood, to be followed by Matthias a week hence, and she was as good company as she always was. Inej’s parents liked her, and she them, and she was most amused by the news of Lady Alys’s probable attachment to Mr. Bajan.

“Well, she is rich, and should always be rich now she has a Viscount’s son—” she threw Inej an arch look. “...assumedly, that is. She is affable and sweet-tempered; I am sure they shall be very happy, and it will be pleasing for her to have a husband who is the right age.” 

They went to dinners and engagements, and Inej tried her best not to think of the need for her to begin to look for employment again. One afternoon, Nina came back from a theatre matinee much amused:

“I saw Captain Rietveld,” she said, “And I can scarcely believe it, but he was not a bit rude.”

Inej’s parents protested that they had thought him a pleasant gentleman, but Inej merely snorted: “That is something.”

“He asked repeatedly after you.”

Then why does he not come to call on me? Inej thought, a little frustrated. She told Nina what had happened at the concert, which might account for his distance. Nina laughed.

“Oh! So did I, I accused him outright— but he has recovered his wits and was far less agitated with me. He almost begged me not to speak of it, however. I felt saucy and almost said that I would tell everyone, just to see what he would do— but I did not want to give him an apoplexy so early in life, so I did promise, in the end. He looked well: he is less thin, which is very good.”

The next day, she and Nina went out to promenade in the nearby park; and when they returned, Inej’s mother almost jumped to her feet.

“Mama?”

“The Captain was here not ten minutes ago,” her mother said, thrusting a letter at her. She smiled excessively; her countenance was odd. “Captain Rietveld— he left this for you.”

Inej looked strangely at her as she took the proffered letter. She glanced at her father, but his mien showed nothing.

“What is it?”

“I do not know— you must open it, quickly—”

Frowning, Inej did as she said.

Miss Ghafa—

I cannot speak, and yet I must. I know quite well that I am very bad and crass and that I may not say half of what I feel, and so I have endeavoured to write what I fear I may not say. I have suffered most abominably since I came to London— not for the sake of my leg, or the sake of my brother— indeed in those respects I am as improved as might be reasonably expected— but for the sake of you. In agony have I waited to see some sign of you, to hear news of you or to see a letter written in your hand. I have pursued every mention of you, pressed upon all of our shared acquaintances in the hope that they would have seen you. It is impossible to describe my feelings when I learned that you were in London, and more impossible still to articulate my delight at seeing you at the concert. I am sure I seemed a fool— and in front of your parents! I am exceedingly sorry— but I could barely think what to do. I came close to begging you for an audience that night, and perhaps you noticed my agitation— I dare say you did. I hope I did not alarm you, and that you did not think I was angered by your accusation of my involvement in the Marchioness business. I was merely cross at myself for lacking the strength to confess.

Truthfully I did not intend for you to ever ascertain the source of Marchioness Van Houden’s sudden change of heart, but perhaps I should not be so very surprised that you did so— a woman more excellent or intelligent than you I do not know, and I think I never shall. She was not at all happy, but I exerted much pressure upon her and threatened to name her to the society papers, and for a woman so concerned with her society, that was a very acute threat. Pray do forgive me for acting out of turn, but after the business with my brother & Rollins, I would never have forgiven myself for another failed intervention. Consider it a repayment for many hours wasted entertaining a cross & unworthy friend who did not show the proper gratitude.

I divert myself, I realise— but I am resolved that I may not close this letter without saying what I have long hoped to. I told you once that you were a remarkable creature, and what I really meant by it was quite simple: I love you. I love you desperately: I love none but you. A balm to a miserable mourning period, and a friend in a time of pain and boredom, it is true you have been both, but they are nothing— I have found in you all things. You are a friend, companion, contender and accomplice to me, and I have endeavoured to be those in return. I now devote myself entirely to the hope that you might consent to marry me. It is from knowing you that I have loved you— I beg you to tell me that I really do know you as I think I do, that I am not led astray, that I did not merely imagine that you might return my affections. I have loved you longer than you know, far longer. You asked me once how I always see you: the answer is because I always look for you, in the hope you will be there.

I will not blame you if you will not have me, and I will cease to vex you if you do refuse me,

But I remain,

Yours in hope & devotion,

K. R.

Her parents and Nina waited; yet Inej could not think. She clutched the back of a chair and stared at it, quite overpowered. 

“What does it say, meja?”

As he could not speak, neither could she; was it at all possible to explain such a letter? She had willed him to move, to act; he had acted. As she challenged, so he responded, and she should not have doubted that he would. He had never yet failed her. He offered her his hand, and yet he doubted that she would accept, considered that she would not, said he would not blame her if she turned from him. Oh– Kaz! He was a foolish boy, and she loved him to the point of sickness.

She pressed the paper briefly to her lips in shock, and then sat down, quite overcome. The lines at the end were uneven; his hand had shaken as he had written the proposal. 

She said, faintly; “It is a proposal.”

Nina leapt to her feet, dislodging one of the cats. “Inej! Really?”

“A proposal!” her mother cried. “From Captain Rietveld?”

“Do not act as if you are surprised, my dear.” said her father, shaking his head. His eyes gleamed. “We are not convincing actors, you and I…”

“...he came to ask your consent,” Inej realised. “That is what he was here for. Papa, what did you say?!” She, too, sprang to her feet, but her father merely spread his hands.

“Meja, what could I possibly say? I said that unless you were indifferent, there was certainly no reason at all why he should not ask you. Your mother said a great deal more, and I believe he was rather dismayed that we had found out about the Marchioness, but he took it well enough. I thought him very agitated, and he would not stay; he was quite distracted, poor thing.” He smiled at her, suddenly and brightly. “You are a good girl, Inej, and you deserve a nice, handsome husband.”

Inej laughed— she flew to them and kissed them both, and her father laughed too. Her mother, slightly overcome, clung only to Inej’s arm, fussing with her hair.

“I take this to mean you want to accept him?”  

"Yes— Papa, more than anything in the world—"

“Well, then it is settled, and you should tell him so,” said her father. “I congratulate you, my dear; I think you will be happy. I think he feared you indifferent, though I presume you are not—”

"Oh— Mama—” Inej surrendered the letter, after a brief struggle, to her curious mother. “No— he is foolish indeed, for I have not been indifferent to him since the Radmakker’s supper party, and indeed I have loved him ever since.”

Nina was briefly waylaid.

“The supper party? That is earlier than I thought, but I suppose—”

Inej turned a curious eye on her, and she stopped, but it was too late. She had noted Nina’s lack of genuine surprise; now it was something suspicious.

“...this is your doing.”

“It is not,” said Nina in a prim sort of manner. “But I saw how you fretted, and how agitated he was, and I may have… hurried him.”

“What on earth can you mean?”

“When I saw him at the theatre, I told him that—”

“Nina.”

“I told him that Mr. Bajan was thinking of courting you.”

“Nina!” cried Inej. “That is not true! Mister Bajan loves the Dowager Viscountess, and you know this. He likely knows that!”

But Nina laughed incessantly, taking the letter from Inej’s mother. Inej turned around and her mother quickly stopped laughing too, but she did not disguise her mirth well. 

“That is very good,” said she, nodding to the letter. “He sees your value, and humbles himself sufficiently. I am satisfied. A lady’s husband must always humble himself to his wife.”

“Mama,” sighed Inej, but her mother smiled, and she could not stop herself from returning the expression.

Nina, talking to Inej’s father, still did not seem at all abashed:

“Oh— it was very bad, I grant you, and I might have thought of a more convincing lie— but the look on his face! He was quite horrified. Silly boys in love, even ones who think themselves very intelligent, lose all their logic.”

“Well, that is true…” said Mr Ghafa.

“This is a very nice letter, I did not think he was capable. He does suffer quite acutely, doesn’t he—?”

“Nina, that is very bad, and he will realise it is not true!” In vain, Inej tried to turn back and retain some of her stern mien, but it cracked unconvincingly. “Poor Captain, you will have made him most miserable...”

Nina giggled. 

“He does have the most unsteady hand, here— ah, I am not sorry. Was it not the Captain himself that said some people need a push before they will jump? But that is not the point. Inej, you have not answered him.” 

She held the letter back out, but Inej’s father intercepted it before Inej could take it back. Inej hesitated for a long moment, wringing her skirts in her hands.

“Papa… did the Captain say where he was going, when he left?”

“Hm? Oh, he said he was going back to —shire, meja. This very afternoon.”

“This afternoon?” cried Inej, horrified. “But—”

A pause: and then.

"Well quickly!” cried Nina. She snatched her hand and swept their bonnets from the table. Inej, at the last moment, took her letter. “We shall have to follow him to Crawley if we cannot catch him, and that will be a farce– oh, damn your gloves, Inej! Mr Ghafa, Mrs Ghafa—”

She made the worst curtsey of her married life and burst out into the street, towing Inej behind her. She was sure she could hear her parents laughing, and they must have looked entirely mad, half-running down the street with their bonnets hanging off, giggling like girls, but Inej had never cared less. 

They came quickly to — Street, and Nina swore very badly to see the house clearly in the process of being packed up. Inej hesitated, sure they were too late, but Nina hustled her up the steps regardless, and accosted the first person they saw, which happened to be Kaz’s man Specht. Inej felt most acutely for how harangued he must have been in the past few months. 

“Specht—! The Captain, is he still here?”

Specht blinked.

“Mrs Helvar, he is.” Inej’s heart seized. Specht saw her, and his face cleared. “Ah. Miss Ghafa. Do just wait here a moment—”

He vanished, smiling to himself, and leaving Inej to reflect with some mortification that he had no doubt witnessed her in the company of the Captain countless times over the last few months, and had likely formed his own ideas about their attachment. The stable-boys who had been tending the horses were now peeking up the steps, and when the housekeeper Ms Van Zijl passed them with a rattle of keys and a shout that sent the stable boys scattering, Inej was quite sure she winked at her.

Specht returned, and bid them follow him; Inej all but staggered after him, still clutching the letter that she had retrieved from her father. She was not at all sure why she had thought to bring it, but she had done so almost without thinking. 

Outside the parlour door, Nina stopped, and said: “Oh actually, Specht, if you would be so good, my husband bade me ask you something about the horses—”

“Nina—” Inej said desperately, but Nina was determined and would not be dissuaded. She shoved Inej into the parlour, called through the door: “I am not at all sorry, Captain!”, and slammed the door behind them. Inej was left in the doorway, clutching the letter and out of breath. 

“Kaz,” she said, and did not correct herself.

Kaz had half-risen from his chair, face anguished. Quite inanely, all Inej could think of was that he was not wearing black. She had assumed he almost always did, but he wore blue now, and it looked well on him. 

“Miss Ghafa—” He lowered his gaze, got to his feet properly.

“We only just missed you, I am sorry—” Inej panted. “We could not—”

“No— I should have stayed, I quite lost my nerve— pardon me, Miss Ghafa, but are you well?” 

“...yes.” Inej, still out of breath, tried in vain to straighten her bonnet, which was determined to list. She gave up, and took it off. “I confess that I ran here. Nina thought we might miss you again, and I imagine we will have scandalised any mammas who saw us, but— well, mine did not mind…”

A pause; they tried to speak at the same time—

“Captain—”

“You should sit—”

Both of them stopped. Inej bit her lip to hide a smile.

“I believe I am often told, when I advise someone to sit, that it is not so very bad…”  

He smiled incredulously. He still would not quite look at her; it weakened a little, and threatened collapse. Inej hastened;

“Oh, Captain, Mrs Helvar told you the most abominable lie about Mr. Bajan.”

He huffed a half-laugh. 

“I suspected as much, but I feared— I feared otherwise. I am not always wise. But Ine– Miss Ghafa, that does not— I mean, there is still—”

He looked continuously at the letter in her hands, and would not meet her eyes. He did not know what to do, she realised; he stood and clutched his hat. 

“Will you not look at me, Kaz Rietveld?” Inej said quietly. “Surely you cannot fail to see me now.”

It was all the encouragement he required; he knew then that she was resolved. He looked at her, and he crossed the distance between them.

“I always look for you, Inej Ghafa.”

She smiled. 

“Then you will certainly always find me, for I will be by your side.” With some hesitance, she stood on her toes to press her lips to his cheek. She was not quite sure that he would let her— but he did, and she was sure he smiled. This close, she found he was a little scarred; some old naval exploit, no doubt. “I will make you go to church, Captain, but just once; for you shall have to take me there when we are married.”

He shook his head wryly. “You are the best creature in the world; I am sorry I was so very bad to you.”

“You are not sorry in the slightest,” said Inej. “But that is well, and I shall have you anyway, no matter how vexing you are.”

He laughed outright at that, and pressed her hand. He asked, then— had Bajan’s pursuit been a complete fabrication? She said it had; Nina had merely bent the weapon of jealousy against him to force him to act, and he had responded as any young man might. He said pertly that he would have acted regardless of her fabrications; she laughed at him at great length, and was not sorry, even when he frowned excessively. She could not think of what else she might say; there was nothing, and there was far too much, at once. She asked when he had some inkling of being very much in danger; he would not tell her, which gave Inej some inkling of it being far too early to be prudent, which amused her. She told him she had been aware she was in danger since the Radmakker’s supper party; he seemed surprised, since he had been in such bad humour that night, but Inej reminded him that he had conspired with her, and that was something. Had he truly almost asked for her hand at the concert, she asked? Yes; but with the revelation about the Marchioness so close, he had worried she would have felt obliged to accept, and he would not have tolerated that. Well, her parents would be pleased— yes, he had hoped they might. Her father had seemed excessively amused, he said. Inej owned that her father was amused by almost everything.

There was a certain noise and commotion outside that brought Inej a little back to her senses:

“Oh— you are going back to Crawley, I had quite forgotten—” she saw his look, and pulled him by the arm. “Captain, do not put it off, not when you might go at this second, and I know you have business.”

“I wish that you would call me Kaz, when we are not in company,” said he, following her into the hall. “Or even when we are in company— I am sure I do not care.”

“I am so used to calling you Captain that I fear that it is very difficult— but I will try, to be sure. Should I take that to mean you want to use my Christian name?” 

“I will call you whatever you wish me to— but by the epithets some men bestow, I am sure they never bothered to find out their wives’ names at all.”

“You certainly may call me Inej if you wish,” she said smilingly, “But I am sure I shall never entirely abandon calling you Captain, since I find it has a certain romance in it.”

“I knew that you were lying about not liking the Romanticists. I saw your countenance when I disparaged Byron.”

“Oh— I am not that enamoured, truly, but they have their uses…” 

She had tried to be prudent, but some of her disappointment at his leaving must have shown on her countenance, because he took her hands, and said:

“Inej, I will come back at my earliest convenience— a week, less than a week.” 

A week seemed a very long time indeed, though truly Inej knew it to be nothing.

“Yes— do hurry. My mother and Mrs Helvar will be thrilled to have an excuse to buy me a trousseau, and I shall be dragged up and down all of the shopping streets until my shoes are rags and my feet blister. I will be most hard done by, and shall wait impatiently to be rescued.”

He laughed as they went towards the stairs. “Then do not tell Fahey, or the silly fop will insist on coming too, and between the three of them you will never escape—”

“Too late!” cried Captain Fahey from the bottom of the stairs, evidently having just come in to find Kaz. “Kaz, damn it, I was sure you would never manage it, and I told Wylan so! I hate to be wrong… but in this case, I am thrilled.” He swept his hat from his head and bowed elaborately to Inej as she came down the stairs. “Miss Ghafa to be Mrs Rietveld! I feel as if I am the world’s most overwrought mamma, to be sure. Kaz, my vapours…”

“Hang, Fahey,” snapped Kaz.

“Hark at him! Well, I make nothing of that— I shall vex Kaz incessantly by arriving every day at Crawley to seek your fine company, and when we are in town I shall haunt you here, too.”

“Then I will look forward to being haunted, Captain Fahey,” smiled Inej. She really did like him excessively, and would be very pleased to think that they would be neighbours when he was not at sea.

“Jesper, you blasted nuisance, get in the carriage.” said Kaz, shooing him briskly away with his cane.

“I shall, but only so I may bother you all the way back to Geldings. Miss Ghafa— one of the last times I may call you thus!— always a pleasure, and Mrs Helvar, always a delight— do walk with me—”

He trotted away, whistling to himself and spinning his hat. Nina went with him, laughing. Kaz shook his head as they followed behind.

“He will be as good as his word. I have a miserable drive ahead of me.”

“I should have thought being at sea with him would surely be more of a struggle.”

“It was— did he tell you that he broke my nose?”

“He did tell me, but I do not mind. I fear it gives you the vigorous look of a naval man.”

“Miss Ghafa, I fear you may have always had a penchant for officers,” he said archly. She had missed that tone of voice.

“What gave it away, pray?” said Inej innocently. “My engagement?”

“Yes,” said he, mock-seriously, “I think that must be it. It is very stark.”

He took both of her hands and kissed them.

“Until I might take you to Crawley, Miss Ghafa.”

“Perhaps I might get bored waiting for you, and take myself there.”

“And you would be well within your rights— but I think you would not want to deprive the Geldings and Trasselwood contingents of busily turning up to impose themselves, be your escorts, and generally be a nuisance.”

Inej laughed: “No, I would never deprive them of such a thing.” 

She let him go, and went down the steps with him to where Nina waited. She thought idly that she might smell the sea; she was sure that she did not, and could not, not in London— but she fancied it anyway. Perhaps she would impel him to take her sailing; or perhaps she would take herself, on her authority as a Captain’s wife. 

They waved the carriage off, and Inej smiled to herself, tucking the letter into her breast pocket. She walked home with Nina, thinking of re-embroidering her gloves, finding some chamomile, and compelling her father to play whist.

She felt that would do well indeed; and she would be satisfied.