Chapter 5 #3
“Riona is correct, sir, in that we are not unfamiliar with the sight of a ship,” Susanna interjected. “But that does not mean we are not curious as to your travels.”
“A dangerous occupation surely,” the parson said.
“There is more jeopardy on land, sir,” James told Mr. Dunant. “At sea one is subject to nature and rarely to man.”
Mr. Dunant smiled. “I minister to mankind, and have no sway over nature, so perhaps I’m biased in that regard.”
“But to have seen all those sights was surely exciting,” Maureen said.
“I have heard of many strange customs in the Orient,” Susanna said, nodding when Abigail brought another bottle of wine. She came to his side, pouring his glass first and giggling when he smiled his thanks. “Have you traveled there?”
“Yes, often.”
Riona looked up, then away again, her lips thinned. He couldn’t help but wonder what words she’d bitten off without speaking.
“I’ve a cousin with the East India Company,” Mrs. Parker said. “Have you traveled there?”
James nodded, hoping someone would change the subject.
But she persisted. “Do you know any of the British in India, Mr. MacRae?”
“I’ve met a few, madam,” he said. He’d delivered three ships under charter to the Company, but he had no love for the English association.
“God has seen fit to convert many of the heathen in those lands,” Mr. Dunant said.
For a moment he considered not answering, but the pastor and his wife were looking at him expectantly. “Yes, they have.” Although he’d striven for a noncommittal tone, James could hear the disapproval in his own voice.
“Do you not believe we should attempt to introduce God to such a heathen land?” the pastor asked.
Mrs. Parker was likewise curious. “Or bring them British trade?”
This was not the first time he’d entered into such a discussion. Nor, James suspected, would it be the last. But, as in arguments about the weather, there was rarely a definitive winner. Each man had his opinion, and each opinion was simply that.
“I don’t believe that it’s wise for anyone to go to other countries,” James answered carefully, “and interject one’s beliefs to the exclusion of the native population’s. It is one thing to teach faith, another to belittle others’ culture.”
“And you think we do?”
“I know we do,” James said. “I’ve seen the East India Company at work.
They’ve no feel for India, no respect for its inhabitants.
” The British would not be satisfied until every man, woman, and child was trussed up in English clothing, spoke English, and carried a King James version of the Bible to prove that they had indeed been anglicized.
Thoughts he would never convey to the assembled guests.
Mr. Dunant was not to blame for the excesses of those in his calling any more than Mrs. Parker was responsible for the wrongs perpetrated by the East India Company. Their only fault was to admire the institutions that so effortlessly conveyed contempt while ostensibly trying to do good.
“Would you have no foreigners in India?” Riona asked quietly.
Her question was an act of defiance, James thought, if the look from Mrs. Parker was any indication. He smiled and answered her, his response no doubt as ill advised.
“I would feel the same if a man came to Scotland and claimed me ignorant of knowledge, forced me to speak his language, wear his clothing, and believe in what he did, ignoring thousands of years of my history and my own antecedents.”
“You’ve just described the English presence in Scotland,” Riona said, her look somber and intent.
Mrs. Parker gasped, and even the parson and his wife appeared shocked. Only Susanna looked amused, but that expression was quickly wiped from her face.
“However,” he added, changing the subject quickly. “I have not been aboard ship for nearly a year.”
“I thought those born to the sea always longed for it,” Riona said.
“Perhaps I was not born to the sea.” Their gazes locked, and for a moment he thought that she might say something else, but she evidently thought better of it.
Mrs. Parker, seated beside her, whispered something he could not hear. Her blush intensified, and this time he did not doubt it was caused by embarrassment. Yet he’d enjoyed her probing questions and saluted her courage in voicing what others might feel but not say.
Another course was served, and he noted that Riona ate even less this time.
He wanted to ask her if she had no appetite for this meal, if something was disturbing her, or if discomfiture had stripped her of hunger.
A paradoxical woman. She was, truly, as fascinating as he’d earlier thought.
Yet now she sat opposite him, eyes once more downcast and staring at her plate.
“You have an interesting accent, Captain MacRae. Where are you from?”
He smiled at Mrs. Parker, wondering at her fixed look.
The woman was staring at him as if she were a starving cat.
Evidently, her disapproval of his opinions was transient and to be forgotten.
Or supplanted beneath a respect for his heritage.
He couldn’t help but wonder how she would have treated him had he been the oldest son and an earl.
Not for the first time, he blessed the fact that Alisdair was the firstborn.
“From Nova Scotia, madam,” he said, “although I’ve recently moved back to Scotland.”
“Do you live near Ayleshire?”
“A few days’ distance,” he answered, wishing that she would not survey him quite so avidly. “Gilmuir.” At her blank look, he continued. “Not far from Inverness. Gilmuir is our ancestral home.”
“A castle, I understand,” Susanna contributed.
“A castle?” Mrs. Parker sat back in her chair, her plump face wrinkling into a smile.
“My brother’s land,” he said firmly. “He is rebuilding the structure, and I am only assisting him.”
Her smile subsided somewhat, but not enough to reassure him.
“May I offer you felicitations on your wedding,” he said, raising his glass to Riona.
She looked startled at his words, but recovered quickly enough.
“Thank you,” she replied, looking not in his direction but at the wall behind him and the hideous tapestry mounted there.
His curiosity surfaced once again, and just as before he ruthlessly tamped it down. She was to be married, and any thoughts about her were unwise.