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Disclaimer in Part 1.
 
 

               Three days later, Emilia Rothschild stormed into her secret laboratory, torn between her desire to trash the place in anger, or doing the wise thing, and taking deep breaths till the intense rage inside her subsided.  Always being sensible, Emilia tried to calm herself, only to have her eyes fall on the sleeping form of her partner, Jack Stiles.    A wicked smile crossed her face and she grabbed a beaker off the table, filling it with cool water from the nearby barrel.

               "SHIT!!!" Jack screamed, as he sputtered in his former bed.

               "What are you doing?  Haven't you learned anything this week?" Emilia fumed, as Jack righted his soaked self.

               "Hey, you're the one who insisted I arrive at 8:30 AM, yet not go outside all day!  What was I supposed to do?!" Jack shot back defensively.

                "I don't know!  I don't know!  I don't know what either of us are going to do!  A third of my business contacts won't work with me anymore.  And that's just the tip of the iceberg!  Half my informants won't even open their doors!  Abdula's wife came after me with a broom in the market place!  I spent half my morning being vilified and the other half dodging roaming male hands!" Emilia shouted, despite all her strength, almost on the verge of tears.  She never felt so out of answers in her life.  She was boxed in, and even the Daring Dragoon himself couldn't do anything about it.  Emilia knew that shouting at her partner was fruitless, but it made her feel better, and Jack understood, which is why he didn't even try to defend himself.

               "Ah, Em, I'm sorry.  I wish I could do something ya know, but every time I go out, those damn missionaries are tailing me!   I swear, some of the village women have even taken to spitting on me!  And the men, well they say the most...  they say... they say nothing at all," Jack finished quickly, not wanting to hurt his friend with the truth.

               "It's alright Jack.  I know what people are saying about me.  Some even have the nerve to say it to my face.  The few informants I still have left tell me the rest.  Thank you for trying to spare my feelings though.  It seems that despite your lack of culture and self discipline, when it comes right down to it, Jack Stiles, you're a true gentleman," Emilia complemented, forcing a small smile for her companion's sake.

               "Ah hell, Em, why'd ya have to go and say that!  Now I really gotta go through with it!!!  Look, Emilia, last night, I had a brainstorm, a way to fix this whole mess!  It's probably gonna sound crazy at first, but I think you'll see the genius behind it, once I completely explain, so don't interrupt till I'm finished, okay?" Jack requested, his nerves heightened at what he knew he had to do.  God help him!

               Emilia's eyes lit up at the mere prospect of a solution to this horrid affair.  "Alright Jack," she stated, trying to come off as diplomatic, but far too eager to get her life back to normal.

               "Okay.  Good.  Now, we both know that this situation could seriously jeopardize our mission.  Not only won't our contacts have anything to do with us, but we can no longer move about openly.  Everywhere we go, we draw attention.  Now, I'm not saying this has to be a permanent thing.  You're British; I'm an American.  Both our countries are notorious for getting these types of things undone quickly and without anyone having to die in the process.  Thank God!  The thing is... what I'm trying to say is;  Emilia Rothschild, will you marry me?!" Jack forced out, having dropped to one knee mid speech and pulled out a ring from his breast pocket.  Holding his breath, his eyes closed, as he waited anxiously for his partner to speak.

              "Married?  You want to get married?  Us?  You want us to get married?" Emilia stuttered a few moments later.  She'd already left shell shocked behind in the dust, and was now speeding headlong into total mental collapse.

               "Yeah!  Think about it!  It's perfect!  It'll get Bellsot and her lynch mob off our backs.  We'll become respectable again.  Well, you will.  I've never been one for respectability.  Our operatives will come back.  We will no longer be the source of gossip!  And no one will question our living together or spending time with one another!  They'll assume we're just moony eyed newlyweds instead of the awesome super sleuths we really are!  So what'd say?  We gonna tie the ol' noose or what?" Jack asked playfully, impressed by his own genius.

               "Jack, we can't just get married!  We'd be admitting guilt!" Emilia insisted passionately.  She still had her pride.

               "Well, if you have a better idea, I'd sure like to hear it!  We can't just den ourselves up in here every day, while Napoleon runs things out there!  We have to do something!" Jack stated fervently.  Far too many depended on their work, and Jack Stiles NEVER surrendered.

               Emilia sighed, knowing he was right.  She'd underestimated the Bellsot's influence.  The people on this island may not be Christians, but they were people.   The missionaries had played on universal concerns, a wife questioning her husband's fidelity, fear of loosing ones business through association, fear of reprisal from their Christian French conquerors, for those who would not convert or uphold the white man's morality.  She'd lost this battle, but if she didn't act decisively, she and Jack might very well loose the war.  Not to mention, if she lost all her influence here and the East Indies continued to bow towards Napoleon, it could lead to England loosing the bigger war, as well.  The fate of the free world again lay in their hands, so she might have to give hers to Jack, if they were to save everything they both loved.  Emilia sighed, defeatedly.

               "If, and this is a hefty if, we were to go through with this, there would have to be some ground rules. Firstly, you sleep..."

               "I sleep in the lab.  Nada.  I want my own room.  One of the guest rooms.  I have to get something out of this deal, you know?" Jack teased.  They both knew what Emilia had been getting at, that any intimacy between them was strictly for show, and that their marriage was to remain permanently unconsummated.

               "That can be arranged.  Secondly, my business is my own.  You'll sign some prenuptial forms, and..."

               "No way I want that headache!  You can have it!  I'll sign anything you want to that effect!" Jack confirmed, wholeheartedly.  The mere idea of the mundane work involved in running Emilia's exporting business made him cringe.

                "And we get married aboard a British or an American vessel, out at sea.  We'll have to think up another reason ofcourse, but Napoleon's new legal codes make marriage almost impossible to get out of, and if we're married in French territory, by a French Official, we may not be totally divorced once we're reassigned by our governments," Emilia stated matter of factly, now deep in thought.

                Jack smiled, as his partner planned out their wedding as if it were one of her new thingamajigs.

                "What?" Emilia asked, confused, having just come out of her thoughts to find her partner staring at her, grinning and shaking his head.

                "I just realized that once we wed, according to the treaty our two countries signed six years ago, you'll be an American!" Jack replied slyly, placing the engagement ring, upon his new fiancé's finger.

                "You're not getting out of this engagement that easily, Mr. Stiles," Emilia shot back, adjusting the ring on her finger.   She examined it, watching the diamond sparkle.  It was real, alright.  She'd been trained early to spot a fake.

                "It was my Grandmother's.  She left it to me when she died.  She said she didn't want my mother to, quote, 'get her filthy hands on it', unquote.  They didn't get along too well, and she had no daughters of her own," Jack answered the unspoken question on Emilia's face.

                "Oh Jack, I don't know what to say.  It's beautiful.  I'll guard it with my life," Emilia stated, rubbing the ring's band.

                "So, you're saying it's official, that you accept my proposal?" Jack asked, just wanting to hear it from her lips.

                "So long as we agree to the terms afore mentioned; Yes Jack, I will marry you," Emilia replied simply, letting the life altering nature of this decision set in.

                "Okay!  Then, let's get cracking!  First we need the pre-nup, which I will be looking over before I sign.   I wouldn't put it past you to add some type of clause that would have me obligated to cooking your meals, doing your laundry, dusting the furniture, yadda, yadda, yadda!" Jack joked, grinning idiotically back at his partner, who was fighting a smile of her own.

                "Jack, if I wanted you doing those things, you'd be elbow deep in suds on a day to day basis," Emilia shot back, reminding Jack of her seniority in their partnership.

                "Your tub or mine, Baby?" Jack leered, then chuckled at Emilia's wry expression.  That woman had a million ways of looking annoyed with him, and truth be told, each of them looked fabulous on her.

                "Jack!  Do be serious!  We have to plan the quickest, yet sufficiently elaborate, wedding that Pulau Pulau has ever seen!  And we have to do it on a shoe string budget, no less!   This operation has to go off without a hitch, and I need your utmost attention!  Now, I'll send my prenup request to my attorney in India, as he's the closest.  You go down to the docks and scout for a vessel of British or American license, whose Captain would be willing to perform the ceremony.  Let's say, in two weeks time.  And be discreet.  I want the Bellsots totally unprepared for us!  They're not going to control anymore of our lives!" Emilia insisted, as she rifled through her writing desk, looking for fresh stationary.

                 "Yes Ma'am!" Jack stated, saluting his partner, then bounded up the staircase to the phony fireplace and the outside world it lead to.