"Apologies if I disturbed you, Miss Lund," he said quietly. He looked down so as not to embarrass her.
"Mr. Scoresby . . . Mr. Scoresby, I hoped it was you. Forgive me, but may I ask for your advice?" she said, and then, awkwardly, "There is no one else I can . . . I think you are a gentleman."
Her voice was low—he'd forgotten that; and it was steady and sweet.
"Why, of course you may," Lee said.
She bit her lip and looked up and down the empty corridor.
"Not here," she said. "Please could you . . . ?"
She stood aside, opening her door further.
They were both speaking very quietly. Lee picked up Hester and entered the narrow bedroom. It was as cold as his, but it smelt of lavender rather than smokeleaf, and her clothes were neatly folded and hung instead of being strewn across the floor.
"How can I help you, miss?"
She put the candle on the mantelpiece over the empty grate, and closed the journal that lay next to the pen and bottle of ink on the little round table with the lace cloth on it. Then she pulled out the one chair for Lee to sit on.
He did so, still not wanting to look her in the face in case she was embarrassed by her tears, but then he realized that if she had the courage to initiate this strange encounter, he should honor that by not patronizing her. He lifted his head to look at her, tall and slender and still, with the dim light glittering on her cheeks.
Lee waited for her question. She seemed to be wondering how to frame it. Her hands were clasped in front of her mouth, and she was looking at the floor. Finally she said:
"There is something I have been asked to do, and I am afraid of saying yes in case it would be better to say no. I mean, not better for me, but better for—for the person who asked me. I am not very experienced in such matters, Mr. Scoresby. I suppose few people are, before it happens. And I am alone here and there is no one to ask for advice. I am not putting this very well. I am so sorry to trouble you."
"Don't apologize, Miss Lund. I don't know if I can give you advice that would be any good to you, but I'll sure try. Seems to me that this person who asked you to do something hopes you'll do it, or they wouldn't have asked. And . . . and it seems to me that the best judge of whether it would be good for them is them. I don't think you should worry yourself about giving a particular answer when that answer might suit your personal preference. It ain't dishonorable to consider your own interests. It might be more dishonorable to do what you think is the right thing for someone else when it ain't the right thing for you. This is about honor, ain't it?"
"Yes, it is."
"Hard thing to get right."
"That's why I asked for your advice."
"Well, Miss Lund, if this is a thing you want to do..."
"I do very much."
"And it won't harm anyone—"
"I thought it might harm . . . the person who asked me."
'You must let them be the judge of that."
'Yes, I see. Yes."
"Then it would be honorable enough to do it."
She stood still, this tall bony gawky girl in her white nightgown and her bare feet, her face so unguarded it was almost naked, a face where intelligence and honesty and shyness and courage and hope all blended into an expression that touched Lee's heart so strongly he all but fell in love with her there and then. He saw her soft hands holding her daemon to her breast. And he saw her grace, the sweet overcoming of her young body's clumsiness—for she was young; and he thought how proud she would make any man who gained her approval; and he thought if once he was privileged to hold this treasure of a girl in his arms, he would never again look at a vapid doll like Miss Poliakova.
Suddenly she held out her hand to shake. He stood up and took it.
"I am most grateful," she said.
"Happy to help, miss, and I wish you very well," said Lee. "I truly hope you can stop worrying about this."
A few chilly seconds later he was in his own bed, with Hester beside him on the pillow.
"Well, Hester," he said, "what was that all about?"
"You don't know? She had a proposal of marriage, of course, you big fool."
"She did? No kidding! How about that. And what did I advise her to do?"
"To say yes, of course."
"Sheesh," said Lee. "I hope I got that right."
Next morning Lee came down to a breakfast of greasy cheese and pickled fish, in the course of which each of the gentleman boarders took great pains to address the young librarian with careless charm, and she responded with silent disdain. Neither she nor Lee made any reference to what had happened in the night.
"A frosty character, our Miss Lund," said the photographer when she'd left. "She expects high standards of conversation."
"She has a sweetheart in the Customs Office," said Vassiliev. "I saw them last night after the meeting. What happened to you, Mr. Scoresby? Were you drawn into the maelstrom of politics?"
"Guess I was, for a minute," said Lee. "Then I came to my senses again. That Poliakov is a disapproving individual, and no mistake. Is he going to win this election?"
"Oh, yes. His only opponent is the present Mayor, who is an indolent and cowardly man. Yes, Poliakov will win, and then he will be perfectly placed to make a bid to return to the Senate at Novgorod. I fully expect to see more of him, unfortunately."
'You know, I just remembered something," Lee said. "He began to mention a situation at the harbor that needed . . . whatever it was he said . . . resolving. Would that be the business of the Captain who can't load his cargo? Do you know anything about that?"
"Well, I don't know exactly what is going on down there, but no doubt our old friends Larsen Manganese have something to do with it. So Poliakov has a hand in it as well, does he? I'm sure that he will win that too."
"Well now," said Lee, "would you care to make a little—?"
Hester bit him quite hard on the wrist. Lee looked at her reproachfully.
"No betting," she said.
"For shame!" he said. "I was about to suggest to Mr. Vassiliev that he might care to take a little trip down to the harbor to see what happens. Betting! Hester, Hester."
"Unfortunately, I have other plans," said Vassiliev. "I have to inspect employment conditions at the tannery today, and then I must make my preparations to leave."
"Well, enjoy the inspection, sir. If I don't see you again before you leave, I'll tell our fair companion that you took your broken heart away to nurse."
It was a blustery morning, with little dashes of rain in between bright sunshine, and big white clouds hurrying across a brilliant blue sky.
"Pretty weather," said Lee as they made their way to the harbor. "Sooner be down here on the ground, though."
"If you don't watch your step, you'll be under it," said Hester.
Lee sat on a bollard at the water's edge and settled his hat lower over his eyes, because the glare off the water was surprising. He took out his little pair of field glasses and looked around the basin. The big steam crane on the right-hand quay had finished with the barque's new mast and was now busy unloading the coal from the tanker into a train of rail wagons. As for the ships on the left, the one that had been taking on fish oil had done with that and was now loading what looked like bundles of skins, and the other vessel was riding much higher in the water after all her cargo of timber had been unloaded. Her decks were clear, and the crew were busy with scrubbing and painting. The only new vessel in sight was a dredger working near the harbor mouth, laboriously hauling up bucketfuls of sand and mud and dumping them into a lighter alongside.
On the schooner, nothing had changed. She lay still and silent at the quay. There was a knot of men gathered partway along the quay at the corner of a warehouse, and Lee was about to train the field glasses on them when a harsh voice spoke behind him.