Chapter 16
Downtown Bombay was a cacophony of sights, sounds, and smells that overwhelmed and delighted Sophia.
There were textiles, flowers, and spices spilling out of enormous bags propped just outside shop doorways and underneath awnings ranging in color from red, orange, blue, purple, and yellow.
Enormous fruits and vegetables warred with trinkets for vendor space down crowded streets and alleyways.
And people! There were more people than she’d ever seen in one place at one time together.
Women in saris of the richest blues, greens, reds, oranges, and yellows shopped and worked alongside the men, who wore the more understated attire of a white tunic shirt and loose-fitting white linen trousers.
Men wore turbans, and women wore beautiful veils and head scarves—some translucent, others opaque silk edged in intricate beadwork.
Hands were beautifully decorated with henna, certain symbols on foreheads signified one’s caste, religion, or the god one worshipped.
Music played on strange-sounding flutes, and a woman danced with beautifully flowing veils.
Children laughed and darted from one stall to the next, some well-dressed, others in rags.
Big, brown eyes, dark hair, white teeth, most laughing—the children were like children anywhere.
They wanted to be happy and fed. They instinctively sought out joy.
Sophia stood at one of the many tents in the bazaar and ran her hand along several colorful stacks of fabric and wished she might have a sari made from each one.
She would wear the light clothing, and sandals like the natives wore, and she would adorn her wrists with multiple bangles that would clink lightly together with each movement of her arm, just like Amala’s.
Theirs was a rather large group. Much like the day before at the ruins, word had spread that a party was forming to make a foray into the city for shopping and sightseeing, and three conveyances quickly became four, and then five.
Sophia and Rachael had sent word to the Denneys’ bungalow, and the girls were permitted to accept the invitation.
Several other members of the Fleet joined the group, as did a few local bachelors who owned tea and dye plantations nearby and never missed an opportunity to spend time with unattached women.
Sophia wasn’t as familiar with them, but they seemed amiable enough.
Professor Gerald had wished to join the group but had other obligations at the university.
Sophia took note that Rachael seemed disappointed by that news.
The gentlemen present became makeshift mules until packages could be handed off to accompanying servants who shuttled purchases back to the carriages. They were good-natured about the whole business, and even Anthony carried a few items Sophia had picked up along the way.
“Thank you ever so much,” she said to Anthony with a smile as she handed over another length of fabric for him to hold. This bundle contained three yards of red cotton with rows of appliqued elephants along the edges. “Abdullah will return momentarily, I’m certain.”
Abdullah was a boy in his later teens and a servant in the Pilkington household.
His uncle was Himmat, and his aunt worked in the kitchens.
He smiled and laughed often, and Sophia suspected he worked very hard to contain his gregarious nature.
His eyes often twinkled, and she could easily imagine him executing a very effective wink.
Quiet, humble servitude simply did not seem to sit well on his shoulders.
The more time she spent in his presence, the better she liked him.
He would rise in the ranks of British servitude, if he chose that path, but she imagined his sights were set upon bigger things.
“What are your plans for this cloth?” Anthony asked.
“I’ve no idea yet, but it’s certain to be spectacular.”
He dropped his voice to a murmur. “How fares our young friend today?”
Sophia glanced down the crowded street at Amala Ayah, who held Charlie’s hand firmly as she pointed at something on one of the tables. She knelt next to him with a smile and spoke to him, but as Charlie’s back was to her, Sophia didn’t see his response.
“No worse than before, thankfully. Amala did tell me that Charlie cried out in his sleep last night and mumbled something that she couldn’t quite decipher. I see the strain in Amala’s face and feel quite helpless. It seems there is so little to be done.”
Anthony nodded. “We may have to accept the fact that he won’t ever discuss it.”
Sophia’s brow wrinkled, and she moved forward to a large yellow awning that covered a table full of carved toys.
“I’ve considered writing Jack a request to continue his acquaintance with the Pilkingtons so that when it comes time for Charlie to attend school, if he is still struggling with this”—she waved her hand, encompassing the area around them—“they might be amenable to allowing us to sponsor him. He could live at one of the estates with Amala, if she cared to join him, and we could hire a tutor.”
She felt his gaze and looked up at him, silently daring him to find fault with her plan. Sophia could be stubborn, and on this issue she was not prepared to give an inch.
“Supposing the Pilkingtons do not agree?”
She felt her shoulders sag despite her resolve. “That will be the one hurdle, I suppose. However,” she said, shifting closer to Anthony and lowering her voice, “when faced with the option that he will be labeled mentally unstable, would they not rather have him with us than institutionalized?”
He inclined his head as though ceding the point. “One can hope.” He lifted the corner of his mouth in a smile. “You have a remarkably generous heart.” He cupped her arm, his fingers trailing softly along her skin where her lightweight shawl draped away in a scoop.
She swallowed and stepped back. “Lord Wilshire, friends do not take such intimate liberties.”
Frustration crossed his features, and for the first time, he didn’t bother to mask it or quickly shrug it off.
It was quite possibly the most real emotion, the most authentic reaction he’d made and sustained, since her arrival.
A muscle moved in his jaw. He looked at her but said nothing.
She was rooted to the spot, felt pinned there, and she waited for him to speak, to admit he was playing a ridiculous game that she didn’t understand.
She refused to be the first to break the silence; she willed him to respond.
He took a breath and looked away, running his free hand through his hair.
He closed his eyes briefly and muttered something she didn’t hear.
She wanted to cross the distance between them and grasp his lapels.
She wanted to shake him and yell and tell him how much his desertion had devastated her.
How she had missed him so much it was a physical ache in her chest.
“Look at me,” she said quietly, and was fairly surprised when he did. “I do not understand what you are about.”
He inhaled and exhaled slowly. “That would make two of us.”
“Miss Sophia!” Charity entered the space under the awning and arrived at Sophia’s side, her usual ebullient spring in her step. “Have you found a toy, then?”
Sophia blinked. A toy?
“My favorite fruit vendor, Mr. Ahmahd, says this is the best toy shop of them all.”
Sophia placed a hand on her midsection and drew a deep breath, trying to pull herself from the befuddled haze Anthony seemed to have wrapped them in. “Yes, I am just now reviewing this selection of toys.” She managed a smile at Charity. “What do you think?”
Charity clasped her hands together as she perused the table before them.
“Oh, there are so many! And look!” She lifted a carved elephant that had been painted in bright colors.
It had a howdah on its back, mirroring the enormous saddles that were used to transport people and cargo.
Within the howdah were six carved figurines: five humans and one little monkey.
The figurines contained articulated arms and legs that could move, bend, and sit on the tiny benches within the saddle.
Charity grinned and carefully lifted one of the ladies from the elephant’s back. “They are likely off on an adventure in the jungle, wouldn’t you say?”
Sophia smiled. “I would say so, yes. And I think you have found the perfect toy for Charlie. I shall also purchase one for my niece, Catherine.”
Charity beamed. “Charlie will adore it. Perhaps it will help him find his voice again.”
Sophia gave Charity’s hand a squeeze. “Perhaps it will.” Sophia took two of the elaborate toys and made the purchase, watching as the shopkeeper wrapped the pieces in tissue paper.
His face was wreathed in wrinkles that were pronounced when he extended the package to Sophia with a smile.
His gnarled hands had seen years of work.
She placed her palms together and touched her thumbs to her forehead with a light bow and, when she took the bundle from him, he responded in kind.
She turned to leave, altogether too aware of Anthony, who still stood nearby, watching her but saying nothing.
He kept pace with her as she stepped away from the awning and extended his hand for the package.
She thought of being churlish and retaining it, but decided that would be silly and she’d had enough game-playing to last a lifetime.
The worst part was that she did not know what game she was supposed to play.
The large group from the Residency spent the next two hours perusing stalls and meandering the streets around the bazaar. Sophia intentionally stayed near Rachael and Dylan, finding it easier to hide her impatience with Anthony while they were in a crowd.