The Great Ellini (Book One of The Powder Trail)

Chapter Sixty Six: Selfish

They got a few hours' sleep—or Jack slept, anyway, while Ellini shut her eyes and tried to imprint him in her memory, so she could take him with her when she went away. She couldn't believe how much time she'd spent reading books and retreating into a fantasy world when the man she loved had been right there—usually trying his hardest to get her attention.

She had been so stupid. But there was no point thinking about that now. If she thought about any of it, she would start to cry—and then he'd wake up, and the whole story would come spilling out, and there'd be no chance of saving him.

So she tried to turn herself into a sponge—soaking up everything about this moment, this room, even the way he was snoring. She took everything in and let nothing out.

After an hour or so, Brandt came to wake Jack up, so he could oversee the departure of the convoy.

Ellini wandered into her dressing room, sat down at the dressing table, and stared serenely at her reflection in the mirror.

Violet went in and out, chattering gloomily, or seizing the silver-backed hairbrush and brushing Ellini's hair with all the pent-up fear and panic she'd been accruing since the night before.

Ellini took it all in. She was going to miss Violet too.

There were brushes and pots of cosmetics on the dressing table in front of her. Ellini never used them, but sometimes Violet or one of the other maids would try to dab some rouge onto her face while she was reading. Now, however, she unscrewed the lid of a jar of powder, picked up a brush, and started dabbing tentatively at her cheeks. It was important to keep busy.

Violet started another flower arrangement—although she was wrestling the stems so savagely that some of the petals fell off. She was just moving the flowers into the bedroom when she shrieked and dropped her vase for the second time that day.

This time, however, she unfroze for long enough to dash back into the dressing room and whisper, "Robin Crake's in there!"

Ellini didn't ask her how she knew it was him. Violet was a great reader of those pamphlets and broadsides which described tales of bloody murder, so perhaps she had seen a picture of him in one of those. Robin was only marginally less notorious than Burke and Hare—a circumstance that probably rankled with him.

"Don't worry," she said, in a soothing voice. "I'm expecting him."

"That letter I delivered last night was for Robin Crake?"

"Of course. He's the only one who can help me. I'm trying to run away from quite a brilliant man, you know."

Violet paced up and down the dressing room, twisting her fingers anxiously. "Well, yes, but—Robin Crake? Aren't you worried about what he's going to do to you afterwards?"

"It doesn't matter what he does to me afterwards. The only thing that matters is that we save Jack."

Violet stared at her in horror. "How can you—?"

"Oh, that reminds me," said Ellini, getting up from her chair and smoothing down the folds in her sari. "We're going to save you too, Violet. I know you haven't read the books I've read, and that man says he's not interested in you, but he knows about you now. I've read about his Order. Women disappear around them, whether they've been reading injudiciously or not. You have to leave Lucknow as soon as you can. Go somewhere he won't expect. Jack will give you money if you—maybe wait a few weeks—give him some time to calm down."

Her sentences were becoming jerky now. Every few seconds she had to break off to compose herself and prevent the pain from rising to the top of her throat.