—41—
The weekend couldn’t last forever, of course.
On Sunday evening, we took our leave of each other and returned to our various posts and responsibilities.
Tanveer continued his tour of the world of the English gentleman, much as he privately despised it.
I wanted to return to the studio, but I had promised Mother I would visit her.
I traveled to Herewich from Clystmere Hall as I had done so many times since arriving back in England.
This trip, I stared out the windows, adrift in memories of the days Tanveer and I had spent together.
His laughter rang in my ears, his touch along my skin.
I felt more whole than I had since leaving him in India, and with the optimistic heart of a young woman in love, I was sure there must be some way for us to work out a future together.
Perhaps it would not be conventional, but I did not think either of us would mind.
Although he did hope to influence the course of his country through politics, a notoriously unforgiving world. The warning rippled through my glow, but I dismissed it. Love would find a way.
To my surprise, my mother met me at the station. She looked vigorously healthy, but a shadow hung in her eye. “Oh, my dear girl,” she said, taking my hand. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”
“What is it? Is Father declining?”
She sighed, climbing up next to me in the carriage. “He is, but that is not the trouble.”
“Then what? It isn’t you, is it? You look as healthy as I’ve ever seen you.”
“I am, truly, very well. England agrees with me. Do you know I haven’t had a relapse in over a year? It’s remarkable.”
I squeezed her gloved hand. “I’m so glad.” Then I frowned. “What, then, gives you such gravity?”
“You’ve been the subject of a great deal of gossip, Elsie.”
A wash of something—fear?—moved through my body. I knew what the gossip would be.
“Your brother is furious. He’s threatening to marry you off to the Baron of Little Field.”
“I don’t even know who he is!”
“You would be no less horrified if you did, I assure you. It seems he saw you at some function or another and was quite smitten. He’s a widower with three children and needs a wife, and spoke to your brother about it last week.”
“He can’t just sell me off! I have some say.”
“Very little, my dear. The bare facts are that you must marry well or Herewich will likely fall to ruin.”
“Why does it fall to me to save the family? And why can’t my brother be the one to marry a fortune? An American millionairess or the like?”
“That is possible. It does not alter the reality that you’ve been heedlessly ruining your reputation.”
I felt I’d been tossed into a cold lake. “Ruining my reputation? What do I care for a reputation? I’m an artist, not a countess.”
Her smooth cheeks burned red. “Do not take that tone with me, daughter. I have always had your best interests at heart, and this—entanglement—you insist upon has ever been a detriment to your progression in life. I thought surely moving back to England would solve the trouble, and yet, here we are, years later, facing it again.”
“Entanglement?” I echoed. “That hardly encompasses my relationship—”
“Do not,” she said fiercely. “Do not defend this thing between you two. I should never have allowed it. It is impossible, Elsie. For both of you.”
My youthful optimism bloomed and spoke. “I shall return to India. It will be less challenging there.”
“Will it?” She turned to me, her eyes brilliant bright jewels.
“Let me speak plainly, Elsie. You have no money, and will have none unless you marry into it. The Talwarpur estates are as poor as Herewich, if not more so. Do you not remember the crumbling rooms in the palace?” She pressed her finger into my thigh.
“He is the second son and will earn his way on his wits, which are considerable, but he also has need of a wealthy marriage. Neither of you has a penny.”
The words sounded so harsh in her spitting voice. It was desperately rare for her to speak in such a way to me, and the shock of it made me feel as if I should fall weeping on her lap. But I liked less what she said.
“This is not some old novel, Mother. It’s the modern world. Things are changing. What need have we of riches?”
She literally groaned, and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Of all the idiotic—” She pressed her lips together.
“You might not need riches,” she said with an exhausted tone, “but you shall need something. Money does not rain from the sky, and only a girl who has had everything provided for her all her life could be so blind. How will you buy paint? Canvas? Brushes?”
A stone filled my gut, and I reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. We rode in silence for some distance, the only sound the clopping of the horses hooves on the gravel of the road.
Outside the carriage, the fields were green and gold, and balls of sheep dotted the grassy hills. Her words made me acknowledge the precariousness of my position, the foolishness of my dream of having a life with Tanveer.
“It isn’t some fleeting love affair, you know,” I whispered, trying to hold back tears. “It is a rare and beautiful connection we’ve woven. It’s real and true, and I don’t know how I can be happy without him.”
She took my hand then, and I could see she was fighting tears, too. “I know. But that does not change a single fact.”
A sensation of breaking ran through my entire being, my heart, yes, but my lungs turned to glass, and my head, and my eyes, and all of them shattered. I collapsed against my mother, trying not to fall to a pile of shards on the carriage floor.
Somehow, I would have to see him before he returned to India. At least we should be able to say our farewells.