Seven
Caroline Aronnax arranged to meet him at the rue Kervegan flower market, where she often went with Marie to gather fresh bouquets. The Aronnax household was well known for its sweet scents and colorful blossoms.
Nemo watched the intelligent and independent Caroline, but he could no longer allow himself to dream of a future with her. He remembered their night under the magnolia trees, when they had spoken foolish promises. Now an invisible chasm separated him from the young woman he loved.…
Rather than let the landlord take his father’s belongings, Nemo had sold every scrap and trinket that might bring him a few sous, even the sea chest. He had kept only the engraving of his long-dead mother. With her dark and mysterious features, her large black eyes, and a smile that seemed just for him, Nemo had always gauged feminine beauty by her standard. But Caroline Aronnax, though, established a standard all her own.
He had lost his mother before he’d ever gotten a chance to know her. Now it looked as if he would lose any hope of Caroline before their love could grow. Perhaps that was for the best, though his heart would ache for the rest of his life.
In the afternoon sunshine, Caroline moved with flowing grace, despite the frilly clothes she wore and the high-society airs her mother urged her to imitate. Although Madame Aronnax made her daughter cater to fashion, Caroline’s burnished hair and blue eyes announced to anyone that she was her own young woman. The delicate freckles on her face would probably fade with age, or with a deeper tan, if—to her mother’s chagrin—Caroline continued to spend time out in the sun. She would never grow up to be a quiet, gossiping socialite; no doubt she would be quite a challenge for her future husband.
Nemo thought she was magnificent.
Caroline drifted through the flower market, humming the melody of one of her secret compositions. Nemo recognized it, since he ofttimes lingered in the street outside her home, just listening to her play the pianoforte as the town sounds dwindled with the gathering dusk.
Late at night, he and Caroline had held long, but hushed, conversations from her window. He encouraged her to nurture her creativity. “You can do anything you set your mind to, Caroline, whether it be writing music, traveling the world, or running a shipping company.”
“But everyone says it’s impossible,” she had said, leaning over the windowsill.
“Those who believe in impossibilities prove themselves correct every day,” Nemo said. “You know better than that.” In those stolen hours and secret conversations, Nemo and Caroline had both dared to believe—just a little—in their waking dreams.
But now, for him, those dreams had been crushed under the boot heel of reality. All of his promises and reassurances to Caroline now seemed as empty and implausible as an old sailor’s stories about sea monsters.
Now in the flower market, he watched her sort through roses and magnolias, pansies and chrysanthemums, sniffing a few, shaking her head at others. Her maidservant was captivated by simple blossoms, daisies and hollyhocks. The two young women chatted, easy in each other’s company now that they were away from home.
Sensing his gaze, Caroline looked up and her vibrant eyes met his. She flashed a sudden smile that quickly changed to a look of concern. Nemo stepped forward, paying no heed to the people in the market, not hearing the bartering voices, not smelling the heady perfume of flowers. Caroline was as much beauty as he could handle at one time.
“André, I am so sorry about your father. But I believe I have good news for you.” She reached out to touch his arm with her delicate hand. “I have found a way to help.”
“I don’t want your money, Caroline,” he said. “Just your …” He stopped at the word “love.” He swallowed his pride. “I just want you to think about me.”
“Of course I will think about you, André. I remember the promises we made, under the trees—”
Nemo looked away. “Too much has changed, Caroline. I won’t hold you to unwise words spoken in haste.”
Caroline sniffed. At another time, she might have teased him. “I intend to do what I said, sir, and I expect you to do the same.”
Marie looked up in warning. “Your mother would not like you to be seen talking with him, Mademoiselle. And I know too well about a young man’s promises that aren’t strong enough to hold a snowflake.”
Caroline rolled her eyes. “Then you should choose your young men with better care, Marie. My mother wouldn’t approve of some of your liaisons, either. I thought we had an understanding?” Her voice had a firm edge of command, and Nemo could see that someday she would indeed be able to run a shipping company with as much verve and vision as any man could.
She took Nemo’s arm in her own and nudged him to the left. “André and I are going to have some chocolats chauds in the café over there. You will be able to see us at all times, but we must have a private conversation.”
With her other hand, she touched the sleeve of Marie’s dress. “Go choose some flowers, but make certain to buy bouquets that I would select, so my mother believes we bought them together.” Caroline’s smile turned mischievous. “And perhaps you should also pick a carnation for whichever of your gentlemen friends kept you out until near dawn Tuesday last.”
Without waiting for Marie to agree or even to argue, she guided Nemo toward the small tables under colorful parasols. Dizzy with the warmth and the nearness of her, he pretended to lead the way. Nemo held the chair for her, and she signaled a waiter. “Two chocolats chauds, please. And some croissants. Do you have fresh marmalade?”
The waiter brought the two frothing cups made from steamed milk mixed with a bitter but delicious Mexican cocoa. Knowing that Nemo had no spare money, she withdrew a few sous and paid the waiter.
“I cannot bear the thought of you in a pauper’s prison, André.” Caroline smeared a croissant with marmalade from a porcelain jar, then nudged the plate closer to him. He chose one of the flaky croissants for himself and bit into it; he hadn’t eaten a decent meal in a day. Frustrated and uneasy, Nemo sipped the rich, dark drink.
“And so,” Caroline continued, “I have found a way for you to sign onto a ship.”
Surprised, Nemo sat up. “But I’ve already talked with the men down on the docks. The crews are filled—”
“My father says you wouldn’t want to ship out with those captains anyway. But he has found an alternative—provided you can leave tomorrow.”
He looked into her uncertain gaze. He was excited by the prospect, though the consequences made it bittersweet. “Leave? Where? On which ship?”
“My father has offered to sign you aboard a three-masted brig, the Coralie. It is an English research and trading vessel—and you would be paid.” She drew in a long breath. “It is your chance to see the world, to do the things we talked and dreamed about. You will find adventure, sail the seas, go to exotic ports.… I am only saddened that, in order to help you, I must send you away from me. It is the last thing I want.” She touched his hand, then quickly withdrew. “If you are interested in going, that is?”
Nemo looked at her, stricken; he knew he had no other choice. “I—of course I’ll go.” Then he repeated what he had said to her on their secret night outing. “A world of adventure is waiting.”
Caroline continued in a rush of words. “You will be the personal cabin boy to Captain Grant. My father says he is a kind and intelligent man. The captain was pleased to hear about your curiosity and your studies. He says he is willing to continue teaching you while you are on board.”
Nemo sat up, determined now and trying to absorb everything she was telling him. “Where is the Coralie bound? With what cargo? Does she sail for Aronnax, Merchant? With an English captain?” His excitement drove back the looming dejection and helplessness he had felt during the past several days.
“Captain Grant wishes to explore the world. He owns the ship himself, with only a few investors for the cargo. In fact, he reminds me of you, André, with the same passion, the same curiosity, the same refusal to believe in the impossible. He doesn’t care whether you are French or English—only that you are eager to learn.”
In her father’s office Caroline had studied the maps and learned the route by heart. “You will sail down the African coast, around the Cape of Good Hope, and up to India, where the Coralie will take on a load of spices. Then south again through the Indian Ocean to the South China Sea and New Zealand.”
“New Zealand? I heard the Maori people tattoo themselves black and file their teeth to sharp points.” He couldn’t wait to tell Jules Verne about it.
“Then the Coralie will cross the Pacific to San Francisco before going south again. Captain Grant wants to see the Galapagos Islands, which are supposedly full of strange fauna. Then down around Cape Horn and Tierra del Fuego, and finally back to France.”
“It sounds like I’ll be gone forever.” As he said it, though, Nemo realized there was nothing to keep him here in Nantes. Nothing but Caroline.
“Two or three years, maybe more.” She looked away. “I will miss you very much.”
Nemo felt bright hope once more. “I’ll only be gone long enough to make something of myself.” He finished his chocolat chaud and brashly ate another croissant. “When I come back, Caroline, I’ll have my fortune—and you will be old enough to be … to be betrothed?” Nemo lowered his eyes, afraid to say anything more. He remembered the things they had whispered to each other, and the things they’d left unsaid.
Caroline looked up at him, startled. She opened her mouth, about to say something. Always before, they’d had all the time in the world, all the flexibility and imagination—until real life had intruded.
“Ah, André, there you are!” Jules Verne rushed across the flower market in a tangle of long arms and legs, interrupting Caroline and Nemo. His hair was tousled, eyes bright, skin flushed. “I’ve heard what you’re going to do—and I want to go with you.”
Caroline and Nemo often spoke of their fondness for the red-headed young man … but they also knew that he didn’t completely comprehend them. Nevertheless, Verne missed no opportunity to try to impress her.
Nemo looked at his friend skeptically. “Why would you want to go with me? I have nothing to lose here. But you … you have—”
“Prospects,” Verne said with sarcasm. “I know. I am expected to stay here for the rest of my life and take over my father’s practice and become a boring lawyer and never leave France.” He shook his head. “You and I, André, we have too much excitement destined for us. I belong with you on that ship.” He puffed out his chest. “We’ll write letters home. And you, Caroline”—he raised his eyebrows—“I plan to bring you the largest coral necklace I can find, just as I promised. I’ll barter with the natives, and it’ll be worth a fortune.”
Verne crossed his arms over his narrow chest, but Caroline, considering the overblown promise, giggled. “You are my friend, Jules. I don’t want you to have any regrets about this.” Nemo thought of all the times that Verne had intended to do a dramatic act, and then backed out at the last minute. Nemo had always been the instigator and Verne the naysayer. But he sighed and accepted his friend’s excitement.
Caroline pushed herself away from the table, uneasy now and sad at the opportunity she’d been forced to offer to Nemo; his only chance. “The Coralie sails tomorrow at dawn with the tide, Jules. Captain Grant may take you aboard along with André—but I want you to think about this for the rest of the day. No regrets.”
“There won’t be,” Verne said.
Nemo fixed his friend’s face with his dark eyes. “Very well. We’ll meet at midnight at one of the inns—L’Homme aux Trois Malices. Caroline, may we stop by late tonight? So you can bid us bon voyage?”
Tears shone in her eyes. “Of course you may.”
With Verne’s eager eyes on them, Nemo and Caroline remained circumspect, but they touched hands under the table and shared a knowing glance before they rose from their chairs.
The three split up. Caroline went back to Marie and her bouquets of flowers, and Verne went off to begin packing in secret.