Chapter 20 #2
Dylan glanced at him, his smile wry as they exited the mansion and turned toward the stables. “She doesn’t want a thing to do with a cavalry officer, Wilshire. She has her eyes set on you. Consider it a favor on my part.”
“How so?”
“I shall endeavor to keep her occupied so you’ll preserve any chance you might have with the delectable Miss Elliot.”
Anthony flicked a glance at his friend as they reached the stables. Dylan requested his horse brought forward and an additional mount saddled for Anthony. “Delectable, is she?”
Stuart cocked a brow. “Is she not?”
“You needn’t feign innocence with me; I see through you.”
“The two of you seem to need a nudge. I do not know all of the details of your assignment this time around, but I do believe that you had best get things settled before Miss Elliot either comes to harm or leaves you for someone else.”
His throat felt tight. “It is my fondest hope, of course, that the first does not occur, and it is my firm belief that the second is no longer a concern.”
Dylan gave Anthony a sidelong glance. “You have made amends with Miss Elliot?”
“Indeed,” he said. “Though it is not yet official, so I would ask for your continued discretion and assistance.”
“Then I shall aid you as best I can. We’ll find Captain Miller’s murderer, and I’ll keep Lady Lissa from wreaking havoc.”
“How do you propose to accomplish that?”
Stuart smiled. He appeared casual, almost bored. “I’ll think of something, I’m sure.”
Anthony would wager his title that Dylan was already three steps ahead.
Sophia, Rachael, Charity, and Beatrice strolled down the crowded market near the quay and looked for trinkets for Rachael to purchase and send home for her three nieces and two nephews.
They chatted as they walked, and Sophia eyed Beatrice with some surprise at an unexpected turn in the conversation. “Your father approves of the match?”
With Beatrice’s permission, she had shared with Rachael Taj Darzi’s interest in Beatrice, figuring three smart heads were better than two.
Beatrice nodded. “He mentioned after breakfast this morning that he had noticed Mr. Darzi’s particular regard of me and suggested that the alliance could be advantageous to all.
Mr. Darzi marries a British woman, securing an alliance, and I remain in India, which suits my desires. ” She smiled and flushed.
The women stopped walking and clustered around Beatrice.
Rachael frowned and broke the silence. “I do not understand Mr. Darzi’s intentions.
There are prejudices on both sides that prevent such a union from being ideal.
Your offspring, for instance. Assuming you produce an heir, any children who follow are ineligible for employment by the East India Company.
Only British-born are candidates for salaries above a certain mark and station.
The most your children could hope for would be to serve with a native Indian regiment, and being half-European, they would come under scrutiny from that side as well. ”
Sophia lifted a shoulder. “That much is true, however, consider Professor Gerald. He is of mixed parentage and has done very well for himself professionally.”
Rachael nodded. “Yes, but he also attended school in England and has ties to an influential family.” She turned to Beatrice.
“I also know his road has been difficult, at times. As a friend who cares about you, I want very much for you to understand the challenges beforehand. The Company, the military, society—they can be horribly unjust.”
Beatrice chewed on her lip. “I believe that is exactly the issue Mr. Darzi wishes to address. He has implied he hopes to see a reversal of the laws back to the early days of the Company when the two societies were not segregated and there were no stipulations on eligibility for high positions.”
“He is an idealist, then?” Sophia asked.
“Or an opportunist,” Charity grumbled, and Sophia’s attention flew to the younger sister. Charity had been unusually quiet during the afternoon, and her comment was oddly direct.
“Are you concerned?” Sophia asked.
She shrugged. “I want my sister to make a good match. I want so many good things for her.” She looked miserably at Beatrice, who glanced away with a frown. “I do believe he cares genuinely for her, but I am concerned about the old traditions that still linger at the palace.”
“You worry needlessly,” Beatrice murmured.
“What does your mother say?” Sophia asked Beatrice.
“She is in agreement with my father. She seems hopeful for it.”
“And yet our father is still insistent on my return to London.” Charity looked near tears.
Sophia eyed her with sympathy, realizing the girl seemed impossibly young.
Her light brown curls blew softly against her face, and the wind molded her pale pink dress against her slender frame.
She looked one step out of the nursery, and, Sophia mused, she probably was.
The gentlemen who might pursue her in London could well be decades older than she, but she was pretty, of child-bearing age, and had a dowry.
Charity chewed on her lip, her eyes liquid and bright.
“Of course I want to be with Beatrice, whether here or in England, but even if I must go back alone, I do not wish to leave her here with someone who will not care for her. Being an Indian princess sounds lovely, but the current prince, the members of his court . . .” Charity’s lip trembled, and she wiped at a tear with her fingertip and folded her arms closely against her body.
“At least Mr. Darzi is young, unlikely to die soon,” she muttered.
“She wouldn’t have to worry about sati.”
Sophia’s heart thudded in alarm. She exchanged a glance with Rachael, whose eyes were wide.
Beatrice’s face was pale, her lips nearly bloodless. “Charity! The Darzi family do not practice sati!”
“Prince Ekavir’s father did, and that was only twenty years ago!” Charity dropped her arms to her sides with fists clenched.
Beatrice regained some of her color in slow degrees. “They have pledged with the Company to cease and desist. And as Mr. Darzi is committed to maintaining good relationships with the Company hierarchy and military, that is the last thing he would allow.”
Sophia frowned and looked at Charity.
“Why would you expect such a thing might be a choice for Prince Ekavir?” she asked quietly.
She shrugged. “The servants talk. Both in our compound and at the mansion. I hear things. Prince Ekavir’s wife is young, and some of the older servants have said she shames the family with her reluctance to .
. .” Charity swallowed, and then she straightened and looked at her sister.
“Her reluctance to be burned to death with her husband’s body. ”
Her blunt statement hung in the air and remained undisturbed by the pronounced silence that fell over the four women.
“I shall mention these rumors to Major Stuart,” Rachael finally said. “Though not much happens of which he is unaware, I suspect.”
Sophia made a note to tell Anthony, as well.
It seemed intrigue was destined to follow the man wherever he went.
Now that she was aware of his position with the government, she realized that activities of diplomatic and cultural significance could direct his responses.
Would he be bound to take action should cultural traditions of a princely state directly oppose any prior understanding with British officials?
Beatrice wrung her hands. “I do not want Mr. Darzi to suspect I have been gossiping about him or his family. He is a good man—I wish you all could see it!”
“This has nothing to do with what you’ve told us.” Rachael placed her hand on Beatrice’s arm. “I shall merely call Major Stuart’s attention to the servants’ whisperings.” She paused. “How ill is the prince? Does his family truly expect his death soon?”
Beatrice nodded. “Mr. Darzi is amazed Prince Ekavir still lives. I should not be surprised to receive word of his death before long.”
Rachael quietly blew out a long breath between pursed lips and tapped a finger absently against her leg.
Sophia scrutinized Beatrice with intense concern, and Charity was a study in misery.
They blocked the small thoroughfare enough that people were forced to go around them, and Sophia realized they could stand there all day in that frozen tableau unless someone took action.
“Rachael, let us find presents for your family, and we shall discuss this again later at the mansion.”
“Yes, let’s.” Rachael blinked and nodded definitively.
She put an arm about Charity’s shoulders and turned her toward the awnings and shops with a gentle squeeze.
“We shall find an answer to the problem,” she told the girl.
“And in the meantime, I am in desperate need of advice. I’m told the toy you found for Charlie has been a smashing success and has made Sophia quite the heroine of the nursery. ”
Beatrice trailed the other two, deep in thought, and Sophia followed, running her gaze along the displays as she walked.
Rachael’s comments reminded her that she’d hoped to find another small horse for Charlie to give him in addition to Chestnut, who currently resided in Anthony’s bedchamber within a large clamp borrowed from the carriage house.
Abdullah had found a gooey adhesive used to adhere leather in the stables, and he and Anthony had then carefully smeared it on the two broken halves of the toy.
Anthony hoped it would be set by evening.
It wouldn’t be perfect, he told Sophia, but it would be close.