Cinders & Sapphires (18 page)

She placed the pieces on the dressing table and jigsawed them into place. A smile came over her face as she looked at the message written on the paper.

“Not such a waste of a day after all,” she said to herself. She swept the paper back into the bin and went to find Miss Charlotte.

It was the first real day of spring, and Oxford students were punting along the river, looking smart in their boaters and striped jackets. Their shouts and laughter echoed up the tree-clad banks, and the clatter of carriages and motorcars echoed from the bridges they passed under. The spires of the city were faintly hazy in the mist of the afternoon sunshine.

As Ada walked along the bank of the river, her folded parasol in her hand, many of the Oxford students turned to look at her. They were not used to seeing women in the university precincts, except for the occasional visit by their sisters and mothers, and the few women students who had braved the walls of the academic fortress. And they were certainly not used to seeing such an elegantly dressed, pretty, and seemingly well-bred girl walking alone in the shade of the willows.

Ada did not notice the admiring and inquisitive glances that followed her. She was too nervous, her mind too caught up in other things. The meeting she had just had with Miss Gorman, the mistress of Somerville, had gone better than she could have hoped. But as soon as she allowed herself to become exhilarated by that thought, she was brought crashing down again by the thought of the obstacles that stood in her way. Now that she was in disgrace for getting Rose dismissed, it was even less likely that she could persuade her father to let her go to Oxford. It hardly mattered if the mistress of Somerville was encouraging if she had really no chance of coming here.

And then there was Ravi. Ever since she had met Emily at the station, she had been looking around for him, nervous and anxious lest they should bump into each other. Half of her ached to see him, the other half scolded her for her weakness. It could only complicate matters. She had said they must never meet again, and she should stick to her words.

And then there he was, coming toward her along the path, handsome in his white linen suit.

If she had had a moment to think about it, she might have been able to walk past, pretending she hadn’t seen him, but he registered her at the very same second that she saw him. His face lit up with startled pleasure, and she couldn’t stop the smile breaking over her own face. The eye contact was enough. It felt as if a sheet of ice covering her heart, which she hadn’t even known was there, had cracked and melted at the soft touch of his gaze.

He came to a halt as he reached her, his smile uncertain, both joyful and anxious. They stood on the path while around them the world went on without their notice. “I somehow thought we might meet like this,” he said softly. “I knew that could not be the last time we saw each other. Life could not be so cruel.”

She lowered her eyes, remembering the last time they had kissed, the passion, the bite of the snowflakes on her bare arms.

“I want to apologize for the way I behaved,” he went on. “I was a jealous fool.”

She looked up quickly. “And I never meant to provoke you,” she said. “I have no feelings for Lord Fintan. There had to be some excuse for me to be able to attend the dinner and see you, and he was it.”

“I believe you. I’m ashamed that I let my insecurity get the better of me.”

“And I’m ashamed that I let my temper get the better of me.”

They smiled at each other. Ada thought she had never felt so happy.

“May I accompany you?” he asked. “Are you here alone?”

She nodded. “That is, I came to see Lady Emily Maddox. She was kind enough to arrange a meeting with Miss Gorman.” She continued walking, and he paced beside her. Their arms were close but not quite touching. Ada tried to drive the memory of his embrace from her mind.

“And?”

“It went well. She was very encouraging, but it all depends on my father….” She sighed.

“You don’t think he can be persuaded?”

“I don’t know. I can only try. And I will try. Being here has strengthened my resolve to come and study here. For so long I’ve thought of Oxford as a dreamland, and now it’s real and solid. I can hardly believe it.”

“In some ways it is a dreamland,” he said.

Ada thought he did not sound entirely happy, and hurried on, not wanting anything to spoil the moment. “The process sounds dreadfully complicated. It seems I can take one of two exams, the Oxford Seniors or the Scholarship. I suppose I shouldn’t try for the Scholarship. It’s only for the most promising candidates.”

“Why on earth shouldn’t you try? I got a scholarship. And you are just as intelligent as I am, so I don’t see why you shouldn’t.”

Ada blushed. “I wouldn’t want to risk it. If I failed, it would be all over.”

“Sometimes one has to take risks,” said Ravi.

Ada, noticing something in his tone, said, “But what about you? Tell me what you have been doing since we last saw each other.”

“Studying. That, and attending a lot of meetings.”

“Political meetings?”

“Yes. A chapter of the INC meets in London.” He glanced at her. “I know you don’t approve—”

“I was frightened for you,” she broke in. “Such awful things are said about the hot faction. I don’t want you to come to harm.”

He placed a hand comfortingly on her arm.

She stopped walking and looked up at him pleadingly. “Please, Ravi. Are you sure you are doing the right thing, getting mixed up in this business of Indian independence? Can’t you be happy as you are?”

“Can you?” he asked.

She dropped her eyes. She knew he was comparing her own desire for independence with his own, and it hurt to acknowledge he was right. She reached into her reticule and drew out a folded magazine. “My article came out,” she said, holding the copy of
The Spectator
out to him. “My first published work, and the first work I’ve been paid for.”

“Ada! Congratulations!” He smiled proudly as he skimmed through the article.

“What I mean to say is…” She hesitated. “It was the earnings from that publication that paid for my train ticket to come here. And somehow I feel I’ve earned it, the right to be here—now, with you—more than if I were squirreling away money from my dress allowance. So I do understand. Yes. I understand how you need independence.”

He looked down at her, his eyes soft. “I want to kiss you very much now,” he said gently.

She blushed. They were in public. Students in their gowns strolled past on the bridges; tramcars and motorcars rattled by.

“We’d better not,” she said quietly.

They walked on together, a new sense of closeness between them.

He cleared his throat. “Maybe this is a good moment to tell you something I have discovered. Well—something I set to find out. I knew it mattered to you.”

“What is that?”

“Your father. I know—forgive me, but it is impossible not to know—that his reputation was badly tainted by his actions in India. I asked around to find out the truth of the matter.”

She clenched the handle of her parasol tightly. “Go on.”

“It’s not what you think. He refused to conceal the deaths of Indians in British custody, men who had protested the partition of Bengal. Certain people did not like that, and forced his hand. Smeared his good name to protect their own foul ones. He
is
a just man, Ada. You should be proud of him.”

Ada smiled. “I am,” she said. Her heart swelled. At last she could hold her head up again. Her father wasn’t a coward, wasn’t a traitor, wasn’t any of the things they had called him.

“I was too harsh in what I said at dinner. Your father believes in something greater than himself. He believes in the British Empire, in everything good about that. And I—I believe in India.” He hesitated, then went on. “I think we all have to believe in something greater than ourselves. Something as distant and magnificent as the stars.”

They had reached the street on which Emily’s rooms were. Ada paused, her heart heavy at the thought of parting from Ravi. It was too soon; they had so much more to speak about.

She turned to him to ask when they might see each other again, and was aware as she did so of a growing, roaring noise in the air. It seemed to come from all around her, to sweep her up like a gigantic wave or a hand. It trembled in the old stones of Oxford; it shivered the spring leaves on the trees. Confused, she stepped back and looked around. Others in the street were doing the same, some looking excited, others frightened. The noise was so loud now that she could barely hear herself think. She looked up—and above her, in the gap of blue sky between the buildings, came something as huge and bright and terrible and smoky as a dragon. She gasped.

“An aeroplane!” she heard Ravi exclaim through the shuddering roar of its engine.

She looked up, following his gaze. He was right. She had only heard of such things, never seen them. Her mouth opened in awe. Sunlight glinted from the aeroplane’s fuselage, and she thought she glimpsed the pilot looking down, tiny and goggled as an insect. The pigeons took flight in panic from the stone ledges of the ancient buildings. People called to each other in excitement, rushing out of houses and cafés to point up as it flew on.

“An aeroplane!” she echoed, her fear giving way to excitement. Looking upward and turning to follow it, she felt dizzy, exhilarated, and frightened too.

“But how can it fly? It must be heavier than air—” She trailed off. It didn’t matter how it was happening: it
was
happening, right before her eyes. The impossible was possible.

“It’s the future,” Ravi murmured. His eyes shone. “I told you, didn’t I, Ada? Everything is possible. We only have to aim high enough.”

She looked at him, her eyes shining. But as she did so, she saw something that made her heart sink faster than an aeroplane crashing into the ground. Parked opposite her was her father’s motorcar.

Ada ran, breathless, up the stairs to Emily’s rooms. Her heart beat out an agonized tattoo. Her father couldn’t have seen her with Ravi.
Please, no.

She opened the door, ready to face the worst. Her father rose from an armchair, a thunderous scowl on his face. Emily stood with her back to the window. Her face was streaked with tears.

“So there you are,” said her father ominously.

Ada had no words. She looked at Emily, but Emily just shook her head despairingly.

“Please do not distress me by lying. Charlotte told me where you were going and why.”

Charlotte? Ada was shocked. How could Charlotte have found out?

“I am sick at heart to think that you set out to deliberately deceive me—to see Miss Gorman behind my back.”

He could not possibly have seen her with Ravi, she realized, or he would have spoken of that at once. Horrible as the situation was, she was relieved. Her real secret was safe. It gave her courage to speak.

“Papa—I’m sorry. But I
want
to go to Oxford. I—”

“We’ll speak of this in the car. Good morning, Lady Emily.” Her father’s voice was icy. Ada gave a last despairing glance back to Emily as she was pushed out of the room. Emily mouthed,
I am so sorry.
That was the last Ada saw before her father slammed the door shut behind her.

He marched her down the stairs in silence and pointed to the motorcar. Miserably, Ada got in. He followed her.

“Back to London, James,” he commanded the chauffeur.

As the car pulled away, Ada looked through the window, hoping for a last glimpse of Ravi, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“I cannot understand your behavior!” her father burst out. “First the incident with Rose and now this? I would never have thought it of you—Georgiana, perhaps, but not you! Ada, I am ashamed.”

“Well, I’m not!” Ada found herself retorting. Part of her was horrified at herself, but she knew she could not stay silent. She was in enough trouble as it was—and it would be dishonest to betray her own principles. “I am doing what I believe in, Papa. It’s only what you did in India.”

Her father pressed a hand to his forehead as if he were in pain. “Yes, and my reputation suffered untold harm as a result—as will yours if this gets out. Do you not understand that your only hope is to make a decent marriage? And you are destroying your chances before you are even formally out.”

“Why is my only hope marriage?” Ada protested. “Papa, some women go to university and practice as doctors and solicitors. Some are journalists. Some are—”

“And some are washerwomen and some scrub floors, but
you
are an Averley!” her father snapped back. “Your employment is to find a good husband this season.”

“I don’t care for the season! I don’t want to spend three years dancing meaningless dances with mindless men. I want to be independent, I want to earn my own money. If I go to university, I can—”

“Stuff and nonsense. You have no idea how difficult the life of a working woman would be.”

Ada bit her lip, hurt by the scorn in his voice. He softened his tone, seeing her face.

“I don’t wish you to be unhappy, far from it. But you are not Lady Emily Maddox, who has an independent fortune and an indulgent brother.” He paused, then went on. “The truth is, William has been profligate. More than profligate. If I had not married Fiona, the estate would now be bankrupt. He has been running an illegal gambling den from the Marquess of Carlton’s house in Grosvenor Square. He has lost hundreds of thousands.”