Chapter 16 #2
As they strayed farther from the bazaar, she began to notice signs of poverty unlike anything she’d ever seen before.
The tall buildings—tenement housing—were stacked adjacent to one another and whole rows looked ready to fall in a stiff breeze.
The stench of filth encroached upon the vibrant dream of the bazaar, and just as at home in London, the line between wealth and poverty was staggering in its harsh division.
Children in tatters and rags begged for coins, and an elderly woman dressed in dingy white sat in a doorway, her head bowed in her hands.
“She is a widow,” Beatrice murmured to Sophia and Rachael as they passed her on their way back to the carriages.
“The color system among castes defines a person’s station.
Red is the color brides and married women wear, and if a married woman dies before her husband, she is dressed in red.
A woman who is widowed, however, must wear white and is considered bad luck.
She is often shunned by her family and then buried in white, as well. ”
Sophia’s mouth dropped open. “That is . . . that is . . .” She heard herself sputtering and closed her mouth.
She pictured her mother, draped in dishonorable white and sitting unloved in a filthy doorway.
There was a time when she herself had lived in abject poverty with her mother, but even that had been a far cry from the scene before her.
Her eyes stung, and she shook her head lightly to pull away from the image.
“That is one of the most awful things I have ever heard.”
Beatrice nodded in sympathy.
Sophia stopped walking, and Rachael paused with her, her eyes a mirror of Sophia’s own distress. “Can we do something? Do we have anything to give her?” She thought of all the beautiful fabric she’d had carted back to the carriage and wondered if something there might be of use to the old woman.
Rachael cleared her throat and reached into her reticule. “I have a small piece of bread left from luncheon that I thought to feed to the birds back at the Residency with the twins.” She shrugged. “Do you suppose?”
“I don’t know that she can accept it from us,” Dylan said gently as he joined them, clearly having overheard the conversation.
“Remember how strict the rules are among the servants at the Residency? Certain sects and castes are not allowed to share food with foreigners. We are lower on the rung than Untouchables.”
Sophia glanced around. “Perhaps Abdullah can take it to her?”
By now, some of the rest of their group had gathered, wondering aloud about the delay.
Rachael explained Sophia’s request, and one of the plantation owners, Mr. Griffen, a quiet man who had lived in India for twenty years, looked on with sympathy.
“There is so much poverty here, feeding one woman is but a drop in a bucket riddled with holes.”
Sophia straightened. “For a short time, it will mean something for that one woman.” She motioned to Abdullah and explained her errand. He glanced at the widow and hesitated.
Sophia wondered if he were concerned about the old woman’s bad luck spreading to him. She fought back instinctive impatience and tried not to marvel at the fact that they had stopped in the middle of a street to debate how best to show kindness to a starving old woman.
“Abdullah,” she said, “if you should feel unclean from contact with the woman, from communicating with her, is there a ritual you can perform later to remedy the problem?”
He looked as though he would dissemble for a moment but finally nodded. “Yes, miss.” His face was a study in genuine distress that was such a dramatic departure from his usual affect that Sophia felt a stab of compassion for the young man.
“Perhaps you will consent to do this thing, then,” she said gently. She reached into her reticule and pulled out a handful of coins, which she then knotted into a handkerchief and handed to him. “Please give her this also.”
He nodded, and Rachael handed him the wrapped remainder of her lunch. He took both offerings to the old woman, crouching down next to her and speaking a few words in a tongue she must have understood. He set the food and coins next to her on the step and left her alone.
Sophia was lost in thought as the group traveled back to the Residency, largely sober. She nodded rather absently when they reached the mansion and Anthony helped her from the carriage, telling her he’d have her packages sent to her room.
He caught her arm as she moved away. “Sophia, are you not feeling well?”
She shrugged and looked at the huge mansion that glistened in the waning sun. “Does it not seem rather futile, at times? Mr. Griffen is correct: one small gesture of kindness cannot fix things.”
His thumb rubbed slowly against her arm, and she finally looked at him. “A gesture of kindness is never wasted. Ever.”
She nodded, consumed with her thoughts and unable chastise him for again being too familiar. The poor widow deserved dignity, respect, a warm bed, and a full stomach. How many more were there like her in the city? In the country? In the world? It was too much, and she was overwhelmed.
“I shall meet you in the foyer before we depart for the Club,” Anthony said.
She exhaled a sigh, feeling foolish and ridiculously like a woman of privilege. “What is it, exactly?” They moved aside as more people exited the carriages.
“There are British clubs all over the country called, originally enough, ‘The Club.’ It is simply a gathering place to game, dance, dine together—just what you might imagine a place with that name to be.”
Sophia nodded and turned when Rachael appeared at her side. She told Anthony she would meet him in the foyer and then walked with Rachael to their rooms inside the house. Rachael seemed as preoccupied as she was, likely still thinking about the widow.
Briggs bounced in front of Sophia as she entered her bedroom and thrust a plain box at her. “Miss Sophia, a gift arrived for you earlier!”
Sophia’s brow knit. “Who sent me a gift?”
“I do not know, only that it was sitting outside the door and it bears your name. See just here?”
Sophia opened the plain seal on a folded piece of paper and held it up to read.
Leave the boy alone.
Sophia’s heart thudded once, hard, and then began to race.
“What on earth?” Briggs took the strange note from Sophia.
Sophia pried open the gift box with fingers that trembled, and she stared, horrified, at a little wooden horse that had been cut cleanly in two.
“Oh!” she cried and sank into a chair. Her stomach clenched, and she felt decidedly ill. “Who would do this to Charlie’s favorite toy? Does he even know it is missing?”
Briggs stared at the toy with wide eyes, then her gaze darted to Sophia. “Is the boy in danger, miss? Are you?”
“He cannot see the horse like this. I must tell Amala to distract him until I know what to do.” Sophia placed shaking fingers on her forehead. They were cold. “We will fix it. It is a clean enough cut. Somehow we will repair it.”
She stood and took the note from Briggs’ hand.
“Are you still going out, miss?”
Sophia nodded, feeling a surge of anger and welcoming it. “This is unacceptable.” She slapped the lid back on the box and took it, with the note, to Rachael’s room.
“I will not be cowed, and I will not hide,” she said as soon as Rachael answered her knock.
“Sophia?”
Sophia thrust the box at her friend as she entered the room. “Do a favor for me, will you, and deliver this to your cousin? I cannot go knocking on his bedchamber door without causing a ruckus.”
Rachael stared at her and then opened the box and read the note, a horrified gasp following.
“I shall take it to him immediately. The Pilkingtons must be made aware. Perhaps Dylan can assign a pair of his men to guard the nursery.” She paused.
“What of your safety? Should we remain here this evening?”
Sophia’s nostrils flared. “I do not answer to cowards who prey on children.”
Rachael closed the letter inside the box. She stepped around Sophia to the door. “I’ll deliver this to Dylan now, and ask that he tell Lord Wilshire. Surely he will want to be advised.”
“Thank you.” Sophia fumed as she returned to her room, and her heart beat a steady thrum she knew was a testament to the undercurrent of fear that threaded beneath her anger.
If it guaranteed Charlie’s safety, she would stay away from the nursery for the moment.
Her determination to resolve the matter, to solve the mystery of Charlie’s fear, however, had leaped to the forefront with a vengeance.