Volanta

Pippa couldn't wait to get out of the Lambert's house. As much as she adored Harry and Colette, she would rather pull her own teeth out than endure any more conversation with Elliot. She had finally resorted to "accidentally" spilling her cup of piping hot tea all over his trousers so he would have to go change, and used the moment to escape, claiming she felt like she was coming down with something. Colette fussed over her as she saw them out, but Nigel was giving her a knowing look.

"You seem fine to me," he remarked as they climbed into their waiting carriage. Pippa blushed as his eyes twinkled.

"I just wanted Elliot to leave me alone," she mumbled. "He won't shut up about all his athletic accomplishments, even though I already know about them because our families have known each other for years and he never paid me any attention before now."

"It seemed you were having a nice conversation with Oliver."

Pippa pursed her lips. "Oliver has no interest in having conversations with me. He couldn't get out of there fast enough, leaving me to deal with his lump headed brother."

Nigel chuckled, patting her hand. "We scholarly types just tend to be a little awkward when it comes to social interaction, my dear."

Pippa rested her head against the window, trying not to feel the sting of disappointment yet again. After all these years of Oliver dismissing her she should be used to it by now. She didn't know why she still couldn't silence the butterflies that erupted in her stomach every time she saw him. Didn't the stupid things know by now that it was pointless?

"Elliot did mention one interesting thing," she said slowly, remembering what they'd been talking about when Oliver fled so abruptly. She faced her father.

"Do you know anything about some theory that Oliver has?" she asked curiously.

"Ah, he mentioned that to you, did he? I'm surprised. Normally he's rather hush hush about it."

"He did bring it up," Pippa lied. "But Elliot interrupted us before he could really explain what it was."

"It's quite fascinating, really, though Oliver doesn't like to be vocal about it. He believes that Volanta is a real place, and that the author of the Barty Brave stories has seen it. His theory centered around the mysterious disappearance of the Nthuri people. He's a bit shy about coming forth with all his ideas on the matter though, as you can imagine."

"Aside from the fact that Volanta is supposed to be a magical, made up place, it's actually not that crazy," Pippa mused. "The first truly extensive published work released on the Nthuri was available after the first Barty Brave book, but there were some remarkable similarities between the allegedly made up world of Volanta and the home and lore of the Nthuri. Even the history books concede that they vanished quite suddenly, and no one knows why. An entire tribal civilization can't just vanish; they have to have gone somewhere."

"Quite so," Nigel agreed, seeming a little taken aback with her sudden fervor on the subject. "Oliver expressed some interest in attempting to find the island in question, but then quickly dismissed the idea."

"Daddy, you have to prompt Oliver to take action on this," she insisted. "Someday there will be another historian bold enough to take such an expedition, and if they find it when Oliver could have, well, that's just not right, is it?"

"I suppose not-"

"What's the harm in looking, really? Okay, Volanta may not be as magical as the Barty Brave books made it seem, maybe it's an ordinary place. But if he could uncover anything about the Nthuri and help solve a historical mystery like this, it would be complete validation for your work together. It would be a huge contribution to history."

"Yes, it would." Nigel adjusted his glasses and squinted at her. "I didn't know you'd be this excited over some old legends and dusty history books."

"It's adventure, Daddy! It's a chance to change the world as we know it. Who wouldn't be excited about that? You've got to convince Oliver to set aside his doubts and do this. You know as well as I do that he'll regret it someday if he doesn't."

Nigel nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "You do have a point, my angel. This could be an incredible opportunity and I would hate for the dear boy to miss out on it just because society is so dismissive of these things."

"You can finance it," Pippa said, leaning forward so eagerly she nearly fell out of her seat. "I know Mr. Lambert would never invest in something like this, but he respects you, Daddy. If you insist and are willing to be the benefactor of the whole expedition he won't argue too much, and Oliver is a grown man after all. I know we have plenty of money for it; you really only spend money on dresses and things for me and I don't mind not having a big party for my next four birthdays if need be."

"I...well. I can't hardly say no to that, can I?"

"I'll go too," Pippa added, speaking so fast she was running out of breath. "You know the doctor doesn't want you doing any heavy traveling for now, because of that heart episode you had last year. And someone has to go along to keep an eye on Oliver so he doesn't get himself into trouble. I know it will be dreadful with me being away, but we can hire someone temporarily to help Marlene and I can ask some of the nurses from St. Bartleby's to come by and check on you-"

"Pippa, darling. I'm not that old and fragile yet," Nigel chuckled. "If you really feel this strongly about it, then you can go. Assuming Oliver even agrees to it. I'll speak with him as soon as possible; after that blasted fall gala tomorrow night to raise money for the university."

Pippa embraced her father, her whole body practically humming with excitement. If anyone could talk Oliver into going through with this, it was Nigel. She could barely sit still the next evening as Marlene tried to pin her hair up with a dozen crystal pins. It created extra sparkle as Pippa fought her way into a dress with a massive silk skirt. It was a dark, shimmering silver with long, sheer sleeves and a voluminous skirt. It was the sort of bold, eye-catching outfit she never would had worn before. But she didn't feel like she needed to hide in the shadows anymore.

"I hate getting dressed up for these things," Nigel grumbled in the carriage, fiddling with his cuff links. Pippa reached over and fixed them. The gala mostly just consisted of the elite of Highgate milling around and trying to outdo each other with how rich they are while the university department heads had to plaster on big smiles and hope they'd spend some of that money on the college. An orchestra played on a raised dais, an adjacent room was holding an auction, and there was of course plenty of food and champagne going around. Pockets always got more generous when prompted by alcohol.

Pippa did her best to stick close to her father, who was a former professor there and now was a chairman. He donated plenty of money himself, but that didn't get him out of attending these events no matter how much he hated them. He seemed to have a fairly easy time of convincing people to donate with Pippa next to him though; smiling brightly and talking about the importance of higher education.

It was a relatively uneventful evening, until her father was dragged away to talk to some of the other chairmen and Pippa was left to her own devices. That didn't last long before she found herself accosted by none other than Elliot Lambert and a few of his friends, most of whom were even worse than he was. She glared especially hard at Francis Piedmont, who was in fact married already and had no business trying to shower Pippa with compliments when his wife was at home, apparently having a rough time with morning sickness during her pregnancy. When he tried to take her hand Pippa wrenched it free so hard she nearly knocked over a fruit platter on the table behind her.

Francis seemed too startled by her reaction to speak, and so it was the infamous James Ingerson who filled the silence.

"Pippa, I stopped by to see you the other day."

"Oh, yes. Marlene told me you did. It must have slipped my mind," Pippa replied dryly. She cut a glance at Francis. "And how is Martha doing? I heard she's having the baby soon."

"She's well," Francis mumbled, looking at least a little chagrined.

"Shame for poor Francis that he didn't wait to get married," James chuckled, nudging him slightly. "He never imagined little Pippa Glasswell would grow up so beautifully. You must be relieved to know you won't wind up a spinster now."

Pippa went rigid, her eyes fairly spitting sparks. "Relieved?" she repeated. "I should be relieved that suddenly a man like you would deem me worthy of being his wife?"

"Well, I-"

"Let me make something perfectly clear to you," Pippa said calmly. "I would never, for even a moment, consider spending any more time in your company than was absolutely necessary. In fact I feel rather disgusted to even be breathing the same air as a baboon such as yourself. You and your idiotic friends have been snide to me all my life, and do not think I will fall gratefully into your arms because you suddenly flash me a smile."

She had advanced on him slightly, forcing him to back up and now his back hit the wall as he gaped at her disbelievingly.

"You are crass, rude, and deplorable, James Ingerson. I would suggest that you keep a safe distance from me from here on out. Or so help me, I will castrate you and sew your probably pathetically small manhood to your face."

"Pippa!"

Pippa turned as Mrs. Lambert called her name, instantly all smiles and brightness again.

"Hello, Mrs. Lambert."

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better, dear. Would you care to get a breath of fresh air with me?"

"That would be lovely." Pippa linked arms with Mrs. Lambert, shooting a cool look over her shoulder. "Enjoy your evening, gentlemen," she called, and walked away with a contemptuous rustle of silk.