Kehinde waved his scissors, unbothered. “When people looked at us, all they saw was a nobleman and his servant. Given the truth of the matter, sometimes it’s better to let people see what they want to see.” He winked at her and then returned to his pruning.
“I fear I’ve been rather foolish, then,” Elswyth said. She reached into her sleeve and produced an envelope, then handed it to Kehinde.
“What’s this?” he asked, opening it.
“It’s the deed to Devereux Place. I thought… Well, it was your home. And you made it home for me. For Percival, and Persephone. I purchased it from his heir and placed it in your name.” Elswyth shifted uncomfortably. “It was supposed to be a happy surprise.”
Kehinde looked at the deed. His hands shook slightly, and she could see moisture in his eyes.
“You hate it,” she said.
“No, I—” Kehinde said, voice trembling. Then he stepped forward and locked her in an embrace.
“Thank you, Elswyth.”
She hesitated before embracing him back. When he pulled away, he wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
“Will you return?” she asked.
“And galivant about the ton? I think not. That house… it’s only ghosts now. Memories. I’m not sure I’m ready to go back. Not without Percy.”
The thought saddened her. “What will you do instead?”
Kehinde considered for a moment and then shrugged. “I’m not sure. I have spent most of my life traveling. These years with Percival were an exception. A wonderful exception, but an exception still. Perhaps I will travel again. There is still so much to learn. So much to see.”
Then Elswyth had an idea. “Well… in that case, I do have another proposal.”
Kehinde tucked the deed into his coat pocket. “And what is that?”
“I’ve been planning something. An expedition.”
Kehinde raised an eyebrow. “But you’ve been invited to researchat the Imperial Botanical Institute. Oxford. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”
“I’ve begun to sour on the idea of the Imperial Institute, as it happens. And besides, there’s only so much one can learn from books, and there are millions of plant species just waiting to be discovered. I have the funds to go anywhere I wish. Fund any scientific expedition I desire,” Elswyth said casually. “But as you once told me, the world is a dangerous place. I believe I shall need my protector.”
Kehinde looked her up and down, and Elswyth thought she saw a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I’m not so sure, Miss Elderwood. It seems to me that you are quite capable of protecting yourself. If you had kept the Ebony, then I believe you would not need me at all.”
“I will always need you,” Elswyth said, “and the Ebony was never mine to keep.” She still did not understand how the strange ability worked, how it had been passed to her like a mantle and then, at her insistence, returned to its owner. But she would not pry. She had learned that the thirst for knowledge, like every good thing, must have its limits. That all virtues become vices, eventually. Dr. Gall had taught her that.
Kehinde nodded, turning to face her. He inclined his head in a small bow and said, “It would be my honor, Miss Elderwood, to accompany you anywhere. As your protector, or as your friend.”
Elswyth smiled, returning his bow with a curtsy. “Well then, Kehinde. It appears we are about to embark on a great adventure.”
“It appears we are. Where to, Miss Elderwood?”
Elswyth looked to the shelf nearby where Percival’s urn sat, waiting, red marble adorned with a golden lion’s head.
“Percival always said he’d like to return to Africa one last time. What do you say we take him there?”
Kehinde, looking up at the sun, smiled. “I think I should like that very much.”
EPILOGUE
Queen Viscaria d’Orange-Plantagenet wore the crown heavily that day. All day, through the proceedings, the meetings, and the teas, the crown had weighed on her neck, making her back ache. The jewels were too large, stupid, burdensome things. She came home resolute on having a new crown fashioned for her, a lighter one with smaller jewels. Ambers, maybe, to match her scepter.
Two footmen walked her to her chambers, on either side of her as though she would fall at any moment. She was old but notthatold. Old enough to outlive her brothers and sisters, her husband, yes, even her children, may they rest in peace. That was what she did, it seemed. Outlived everybody, over and over again.
Some days, she wanted it to end. The pain of her aging body. The loneliness.
