The girl stepped hesitantly out of the shadows, her chest rising and falling quickly. She was pretty in a natural way, though not entirely without deformity. Her upper lip split and curled to the base of her nose. A harelip. She hid her mouth behind her fingers as she gave me an almost imperceptible nod. She needn’t have felt so self-conscious. A harelip might have caused her great distress in England but was a minor blemish compared to the islanders’ deformities.
“Pleased to meet you, miss,” she said, so softly I could barely make it out. Her eyes were wide as marbles. Her gaze darted to Montgomery, as if seeking reassurance.
Father waved absently toward Edward. “And of course you met Mr. Prince last night.”
She studied the floorboards with those big eyes and didn’t utter a word. I imagined she’d never met a fine young gentleman before. With his loose hair and dirty boots, Montgomery hardly counted as one.
“Now, Alice, won’t you see if Balthazar needs help with the animals?”
She ducked her head and slipped across the room. She paused at the door to speak to Montgomery. They exchanged a few words I couldn’t hear. Then he laid a hand on her shoulder and smiled.
I quickly looked away, feeling as if I had observed something I shouldn’t. I realized that I was new to the island, but Montgomery wasn’t. This was his home. He’d likely known Alice for years.
“And you, Montgomery, see if Puck and the others have the cargo stowed. I don’t want the rats getting into it like last time.”
Obediently, Montgomery went to the door, where a canvas jacket hung on a peg. A light rain had begun to fall outside. He slipped the jacket on before going outside. It jabbed me like a thorn in the side that he was so quick to do Father’s bidding when he wasn’t a servant anymore. I stood up and went to the bookshelf to find the trinkets Montgomery had collected.
The top row was filled with books that I vaguely remembered from my childhood. Agrippa, Paracelsus, Albertus Magnus. Shakespeare’s full collection, bound in green with gold embossment. Troilus and Cressida, Edward III, Twelfth Night. I traced the gold lettering with my fingers, trying to remember the stories Father had read. On the next shelf were more books, a glass bottle, and a tin of pipe tobacco. I unscrewed the lid and inhaled deeply. “You used to smoke this back in London. Your professor friend brought it to you from the Caribbean.”
“Quite right. Professor von Stein. Now that was a man who knew his way around a bottle of brandy. Brandy and a cigar at the Café du Lac, overlooking London Bridge. It didn’t come much better.”
I didn’t tell him that Professor von Stein had been the one who’d found me employment at King’s College after his banishment. Nor that the professor, like all of Father’s previous colleagues, had renounced his friendship and slandered him as a monster to any who would listen.
“If you liked it so much, why trade it for such an uncivilized place?” Edward asked.
I only half listened to them. I wanted to hear Father’s answer, but on the second shelf down I found a framed photograph that consumed my attention. A woman holding a baby in a christening gown. I picked up the frame.
“Curious, are you, Prince? Well, it wasn’t totally uncivilized. There were some Anglican missionaries who came on the ship with us. It was from them that I heard of the island’s existence. Thought they’d make a paradise of it.” He stared into the bottom of his empty cup. “But they are long gone.”
“And you’ve never returned to England?”
“Montgomery makes the voyage if there’s need. Most of our supplies can be acquired from traders passing to Australia or Fiji, though by and by there comes an errand that requires a longer voyage.”
Their conversation was like rustling leaves in the background. I stared at the picture, transfixed. The woman was my mother. Her young face was so beautiful, so smooth. In her final weeks, she’d looked as worn as Death.
Puck came through the doorway, quiet as a murmur. He whispered something in Father’s ear. Father glanced at the ticking clock on the mantel.
“I’ll have to miss lunch and supper,” Father announced. “I started on a new project last night that requires my immediate and prolonged attention.” He stood and kissed me briefly on the temple, like I was still just a child. Like I hadn’t traveled so far and risked so much to find him.
I shouldn’t have expected him to change. He’d disappear into his laboratory for days, and I’d be lucky to glimpse him at mealtimes. Just like it used to be.
Edward drummed his fingers on the arms of the leather chair, watching. His jaw twitched slightly.
I got the sense he understood my feelings. He’d left England to get away from his own father, after all, though he’d been evasive about the details. He’d done something, something that seemed to have haunted him long before the Viola sank. Anyway, he had to know a thing or two about domineering fathers.