But before she could begin, Lady Franklin’s envoy needed to appear at the American House, and every day, he did not. Even though her surroundings were lush, as each day slipped by, she began to feel more and more trapped. Her logical mind understood exactly why. But in those becalmed, constricting times, her logical mind was not the part of her that writhed and bucked in panic, blind with fear.
So she pushed down the fear and gathered her energy for readiness. The only thing worse than the wait, she knew, would be to miss the envoy when he came.
For three days, she did not leave the hotel, not even for a moment. She took every meal in a room called “the ladies’ ordinary,” a new innovation of which the hotel staff seemed quite proud. She was unsure how much it differed from a fine restaurant, as she’d never been in one, but in her opinion, the ordinary offered more than enough comfort. Elegant globe lights above the tables cast soft, flattering shadows at night; during the breakfast and noon meal hours, enough daylight streamed in through the windows to tint the tablecloths and china warm gold. For a moment, she thought she might amuse herself by counting up how many meals in her life she’d eaten without even plate or utensils, let alone a table and chair, but then she shoved the thought away. She should focus on where she was and where she’d be going, not where she’d been. God had seen fit to give her a fresh start more than once. It would not honor Him to linger on what she’d needed a fresh start from.
So she focused on the surroundings of the ordinary, its lush fabrics, its gleaming silver. Water beaded on the outside of her glass, and she resisted the urge to swipe it away with a fingertip.
Looking around to find herself surrounded by women was a new, odd feeling for Virginia. She knew the reverse quite well—at any given fort, she was likely to be the only woman for miles—but here, she felt more out of place. She reminded herself that anyone looking at her would see her sober dress and calm expression. Not the fire that burned inside. Not the lingering ghosts of her past. All that, as indelible as it was, was blessedly invisible.
The woman who tended to her table at meals was a dark-eyed, quick-witted woman, likely not much past her twentieth year. She introduced herself as Miss Thisbe. In Virginia’s limited experience with those formally employed to serve others, there were two main types: those glad to serve and those who resented being in service. Thisbe seemed another type entirely. She seemed almost amused by her own role in service, lighthearted at every turn. She took Virginia’s order with a wink and set her plate down with a grin, as if the fact that Virginia could ask her for things was a private joke between the two of them.
Virginia sometimes lingered over her meals to prolong her conversations with Thisbe, a behavior she also found new in herself. She did not think of herself as someone who wanted or needed company. But then again, she’d so rarely had the choice of whether to be in company, perhaps she’d never been away from others long enough to miss them.
After her fourth supper at the ladies’ ordinary, as she returned to her room, she found a strange man lingering in the hallway near her door. Even looking directly at him, she wasn’t sure how she’d describe him to someone seeking him in a crowd. He was not particularly tall or short, thin or fat, dark-haired or light-haired. He was not particularly anything.
“Mr. Brooks?” she asked.
“Brooks,” he said in an accent that differed from Lady Franklin’s. She could tell it was neither American nor Canadian, but beyond that, she could not pin it down.
“Brooks? Is that your first or last name?”
“Brooks will do, Miss Reeve.” His voice was matter-of-fact.
She looked more closely at him, observing. Like the rest of him, his face was undistinguished in a way that she suspected made him very good at doing someone else’s bidding.
“Will you come in?” she asked. “It isn’t proper, but then, we’re not on proper business, are we?”
“It’s all fully proper, Miss Reeve,” he said, the strange accent bending his words, his jaw tight.
“But…unusual.”
“We can discuss whether it is usual in the privacy of your room, please.” He nodded toward the empty room behind her, and she opened the door to let him in.
As he entered, she searched his face and body for some characteristic that might help her define him. Was he an envoy or an enforcer? His shoulders were broad under the smooth fabric of his coat. There was a tense strength to his movements, even when all he did was shut the door. Virginia was uncomfortable enough in his presence to hope she needn’t find out any more about what he could do with his strength if he chose.
Brooks began, “I’ve come to tell you about the arrangements that have been made and help you make those that remain.”
“Lady Franklin sent you?”
“My employer prefers that no names be used.”
“Even here in private?”
“Even so.” Though his accent differed, his cadences seemed to mimic Lady Franklin’s, businesslike and formal. “From this moment, all dealings will be in my hands. My employer will have no further contact with you. Nor will the financing of your expedition be made public. If asked any questions about this expedition, unless and until you come back successful, my employer will deny all knowledge of it and you. Is that clear?”
Virginia felt a tickle of disappointment to hear she wouldn’t be seeing Lady Franklin again before they left, but it wouldn’t do to let it show. For his benefit, she gave an indifferent shrug. “As long as she pays when we do come back successful.”
“I pray you do attain that success, miss.”
She did not ask him to whom he prayed. Instead, she said, “Get on with it, then.”
His voice was dry as he responded, “She did say that you were quite…straightforward.”
“Are women not straightforward where you come from?”
She saw by the ghost of his smile that he understood her gambit.
With a condescending air, he said, “My understanding is that women of good breeding, regardless of what country they come from, know how to conduct themselves in society. Now, you were the one who wanted to, you said, ‘get on with it,’ am I correct?”
“Yes.”
“So let’s.”
They both gestured to the empty chairs at the same time, and then both sat down, eyeing each other, wary as dogs.
Brooks drew a map from a hidden pocket and unrolled it on the table between them. He traced the route with a blunt fingertip as he went, hundreds of impossible miles streaming by in barely a sentence. “Train to Buffalo, canoes to Sault Ste. Marie, transport overland to Moose Factory, and a topsail schooner up the west side of Hudson Bay to Repulse Bay, arriving in late July. From there, you’ll make the overland trek to the search area. That’s King William’s Land, specifically, Victory Point. That leaves you four months to trek in, search, and trek out before winter.”