Chapter 13
Sophia awoke the next morning with the sun and felt surprisingly refreshed.
After the discomfort of the long voyage, her first day in India had been frenetic from the moment she’d stepped from the carriage.
She’d been tired upon arrival, the costume ball had been eventful, and then she and Rachael had hardly slept that night.
Yesterday she’d found herself constantly moving to avoid falling asleep.
Feeling much more herself, she looked forward to the day.
She and Rachael had spoken briefly the night before upon their return from the river and decided to spend as much time as possible with Amala Ayah and Charlie.
The answers to their questions lay somewhere within the child, and any hope of finding them was predicated on earning Charlie’s trust.
Breakfast was a casual affair, much as at home, with food placed on sideboards as a buffet.
Sophia finished eating before Rachael made her way down.
She left the dining room and went onto the wide verandah that spanned the length of the mansion on the back side.
The large space functioned as another room all its own, and from what Lady Pilkington had said, was often the only place to find even a modicum of relief when the hot weather settled in.
The Pilkingtons and their attending servants traveled north into the hills to wait out the worst of the summer months, but until that time, the verandah became a gathering place.
It was screened to keep out bugs and snakes, and there were two large fans suspended from the high ceiling.
The fans were attached to ropes that servants pulled on to provide comfort from the heat.
Sophia had stopped counting the number of times she was forced to hold her tongue.
She couldn’t help but feel compassion for the servants who worked in the heat to provide comfort for their employers.
They were paid, it was true, but not well.
The arrogance Sophia heard from more than one quarter reminded her painfully of her own time spent serving her “betters.” She didn’t suppose her feelings would ever quite go away, and she wasn’t certain she wished them to.
Heaven help her if she ever treated another person the way she had been treated herself.
She settled comfortably in a chair on the verandah, waiting for Rachael and the children with their nannies and ayahs.
They were bound for adventure to a site of ancient temple ruins a short one-mile distance from the Residency.
She picked up one of the local English gossip sheets placed on the coffee table and scanned it, smiling in spite of herself.
The paper described the same sorts of things she read about in London: clothing, courtships, balls, parties, and more about clothing.
She glanced up at movement in her periphery to see Rachael and the two Misses Denney, the younger of whom was speaking earnestly. “I have told Papa repeatedly that neither Beatrice nor I wish to return to England again, but he refuses to hear it.”
Sophia stood and smiled at the threesome. “Won’t you join me here, ladies?” With some luck, perhaps one of the sisters would remember something about Captain Miller from the costume party.
The two sisters exchanged pleasantries with Sophia and sat in a small wicker sofa. Rachael sat next to Sophia.
“I met Miss Denney and Miss Charity Denney yesterday afternoon,” Rachael said to Sophia. “Miss Denney is quite accomplished in watercolors.”
“You’re too kind,” Beatrice, the elder sister, murmured.
Rachael smiled. “I beg to differ, in that I am most certainly not offering platitudes about your artwork. It is extraordinary.”
Beatrice Denney blushed and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.
She smiled, though, and that was something to celebrate.
Sophia had developed a soft spot in her heart for the girl, perhaps because she knew Beatrice didn’t live up to her father’s expectations.
She wasn’t comfortable in large groups of people and seemed anxious around gentlemen.
If Beatrice couldn’t land herself a good husband, Mr. Denney was not likely to be pleasant about it, and Sophia was defensive on the girl’s behalf.
“She is very talented, but also modest.” Charity gave her sister’s hand a squeeze, an act that raised Sophia’s estimation of her. Charity was vivacious and pretty, and she had an easy manner with people. Sophia liked her better knowing she loved her sister enough to act as an intermediary.
“I should love to see your work,” Sophia told Beatrice. “If you would be comfortable sharing, of course.”
Rachael smiled. “She didn’t have much choice with me, I’m afraid. I spied her as she worked under the shade tree outside my bedchamber window. I opened it to feel the fresh air, and there she was.”
Beatrice blushed yet again, and Sophia’s heart ached a little more for her.
The world was not always a kind place to the gentle.
“Beatrice, have you ever painted the temple ruins close by? Rachael and I are accompanying some of the children on a picnic today. Is it as spectacular as I’ve been told? ”
A sparkle lit Beatrice’s eyes. “Mama used to take us to the ruins at least once a week when we were small. It was there I began painting true-life scenes.”
“Beatrice’s portfolio is full of beautiful paintings of the ruins,” Charity added enthusiastically.
“The orchids are an absolute explosion of color—they are everywhere! There are so many things to see there, and I daresay through the years we’ve combed every inch.
There is one large building still mostly intact, but trees have grown up and around and through it so they appear to be part of the building itself.
It is very dark inside, and creatures of all sorts roam through its halls, or so we’ve been told. ”
“It sounds remarkable,” Sophia said.
Charity’s energy dimmed slightly. “Papa put a stop to our adventures when Beatrice turned fifteen. He said we were too old for romping around.” She lifted her shoulder.
“I would never admit it to anyone else, but I would still dearly love to go romping around the ruins and gather a bouquet of orchids for our mother—she likes the bright yellow and orange ones the best.” She gave a small laugh.
“All this talk of running about like a child—it is quite gauche of me, I know.”
Sophia laughed. “Not at all, Miss Charity. A lady should never be too old to enjoy such a worthy pastime. In fact, you should join us today.”
“Thank you for the invitation,” Beatrice said. “My sister and I would love to join you. I hope you don’t mind if Charity appoints herself your tour guide for the day.”
“Indeed, Miss Elliot,” Charity said. “India has much to recommend it, especially this time of year. And the gentlemen are so very attentive. The two of you shall make the most splendid of matches! Did you know that there are multiple Englishmen for every Englishwoman in British India? You’ll forgive me for making reference to gambling, but the odds for women are ever so much better here than in England. ”
Sophia wondered how she could ask Charity why she and her sister weren’t married yet, given such excellent odds. In the end, she didn’t have to.
“As I was telling Miss Scarsdale before we found you here, Miss Sophia, I beg Papa continually to allow Beatrice and me to remain here. We spent a few years in England for school, but it was his home, not ours. We missed everyone here dreadfully, most especially Mama and our ayah. After we returned home from our last holiday, we prevailed upon him to allow us to remain here rather than go back to England. Even Mama aided our cause. He relented, but he still insisted we have a Season last year, and he intends to send us off again this year. We’ve been home for such a short time!
We have spent more time aboard ship than on solid land over the last two years. ”
Beatrice grimaced. “Traveling by ship is wretched. We both get so very ill. I believe Papa’s agreement to suspend schooling in England came in part because of our condition when we returned last. I’m afraid we looked and felt quite pathetic.
Risking life and limb for a successful Season, however, he sees as another matter entirely. ”
Sophia nodded in sympathy. The ocean crossing was indeed wretched, and she’d had the best benefits money could buy.
Her ship was large, the accommodations plentiful, including enough fresh water for both bathing and laundering clothes, which was nearly unheard of.
Most Fishing Fleet voyages were a veritable hell on earth.
A fairly small ship to carry hundreds of people, inadequate bathing accommodations, no fresh water available to launder clothing, live animals to be slaughtered for food, rotting food as the journey continued, which prompted stomach ailments .
. . Include the pitching and rolling of the ship on stormy seas and she knew that many people questioned their own sanity for embarking into such madness.
“Yet now he wishes for us to return.” Charity frowned. “I am quite prepared to run away.”
Beatrice glanced at her sister with irritated affection. “You shall not run away, Charity. Where would you go?”
Charity grinned. “I shall run to the jungle and live with the animals.”
Beatrice laughed, then, and the sound was delightful.
It quite transformed her, and Sophia watched the young woman with a smile of her own.
“You do not like the animals at all; they frighten you witless. A silly sight you would be, trying to live among the tigers and snakes and screaming each time you encounter one.”
Charity laughed with her sister, but sobered gradually. “Would it be so much worse than having to brave the Bay of Biscay again?”
Sophia shuddered at that notion and shook her head in agreement.
Rachael viewed the other young women with sympathy in her clear, blue eyes. “Perhaps your father will yet change his mind. After all, if he wishes you to wed, surely this is a good place to accomplish it.”
Beatrice shrugged and answered quietly, “Truthfully, we both could have been married here several times over. Papa has always regretted the necessity of leaving England, and he wants the two of us to find gentlemen who are not destined to remain here with their careers for a lifetime. He does not care for India at all, but we—” She glanced at Charity.
“Mama loves it, and we were born and raised here. It is very much home to us. England feels foreign and cold.”
“And wet,” Charity added. “Monsoon season here is intolerable, yes, but it eventually ends. England is gray and dreary all the time.”
Beatrice glanced at her sister with a wry smile and nudged her arm. “Not all the time. It just isn’t . . . home. Not to us. We certainly mean no offense.”
Rachael shook her head. “I am certainly not offended.” She spread her hands. “I am here, after all.”
Sophia heard children chattering and turned to see Rachael’s young friends, the twin girls, bounding down the stairs. Several more children followed from the nearby residential compound with their ayahs, and finally, she saw Charlie and Amala Ayah.
“Good morning!” Amala Ayah called. “I hope you’ve not been waiting long.”
The women stood as the others approached, and Sophia smiled at the ayah’s resilient tone. Amala was determined to make things better for Charlie.
“Amala, I have invited the Denney sisters to join us today. I trust no one will object,” Sophia said.
Charity Denney bounced on the balls of her feet, and the sparkle was back in Beatrice’s eye.
“Have you a picnic basket made?” Charity burst out as though unable to hold it back any longer.
Amala laughed at the girl’s enthusiasm. “It is being assembled as we speak, and will be brought to us in two hours. Shall I instruct the kitchen to send more?”
“We should hate to be a bother,” Beatrice said, her light blush staining her cheeks.
“No bother at all,” Amala said. She turned to one of the other ayahs. “Please notify the kitchen. The carriages will be brought round in five minutes; you can meet us out front.”
Sophia walked with the entourage, listening with half an ear as Charity requested a servant inform Mr. and Mrs. Denney of their whereabouts.
Beatrice’s brow creased lightly, and she hesitated for the briefest of moments before stating she needed her travel paints.
She dashed off to grab them from their bungalow, which was in a compound of homes adjacent the Residency.
Amidst some jostling, hustle and bustle, much chatter and several giggles, the group finally found themselves situated in carriages and headed for the temple ruins.
Sophia missed her niece, Catherine, dreadfully, and when one of the toddlers, Ruth, if Sophia recalled her name correctly, lunged impulsively out of her caretaker’s arms and into Sophia’s lap, she laughed and righted the child.
She bounced Ruth on her knee, singing silly songs.
She had intentionally maneuvered to sit across from Amala and Charlie, and the young boy watched her antics with the baby.
He didn’t laugh, but he also didn’t duck his head or hide behind his ayah’s sleeve.
And she might have been mistaken, but Sophia could have sworn she saw the tiniest curve at the corner of his mouth when she lifted the toddler and pretended to gobble the little girl’s tummy.
It was a small thing, but it was a start.
She held it close to her heart, because a pall had been cast over this exotic land of beauty, and Sophia felt it.
It was not lost on her, although she hadn’t verbalized it to anyone, that if Charlie could identify Captain Miller’s attacker, the young child may be in danger.