Chapter 18
Victoria doesn’t want to go out tonight.
Not surprising; she doesn’t go out much since Albert passed.
I’m more surprised that she’s gone out to the three balls we’ve been to in the past week, but two of those were at her house as part of her birthday celebrations, and the most recent was to introduce me to her godchildren, so maybe it isn’t so hard to believe.
I’m more than happy with her decision. Even though it would have been nice to see Leo again, it’s good to have time away from his magnetic presence. To build up some defenses against him, since he keeps making me forget why getting involved with someone from the past is a bad idea.
And he does need to work on those heiresses, despite what he thinks. A task I’d rather not see happening.
She also agrees that I should go to Cambridge, after I said it would be good to see the university. Since I am here to learn. She’s going to send Anne as a chaperone, and let me go with Leo, who she trusts implicitly.
A statement I would perhaps believe more if there wasn’t a tinkle in her eye when she said it. A matchmaking twinkle.
Victoria is surprisingly chill about it.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t so surprising.
This is the same woman who took John Brown and Abdul the Munshi to Glassalt, the secluded lodge on the Balmoral Estate, which she called her “widow’s house.
” Took both men there without any other people on the trips.
I don’t know what she did with them there, and no one but the parties involved ever will, but it is a fact they were alone, and it made tongues wag.
And women are travelling alone more at this time than they ever had, exploring the world around them with more and more freedom.
The rest of the meal is taken up with Abdul talking about India. Victoria’s not the only one soaking up every word; this historian is glad to hear about what it’s like in India at the time, through his perspective of living in Agra.
Another plus of the small dinner is there’s less people to worry about. No odious Charles or overly curious aristocrats I have to perform for.
And no Leo to worry about for different, more lust-based reasons. Although he hasn’t been far from my mind since I got here.
That night I go to bed with hope. I’m getting too involved with the marquess, but I have a next step that can lead to home. And that’s more than I’ve had in a while.
* * *
“I have how many visitors? Still?” I ask Anne as she helps me get dressed for the day in my room.
I’ve never been this popular and I wish I could tell sixteen-year-old Meera how fucking exhausting popularity is.
And inconvenient. How am I supposed to soak up everything in Victorian London while trying to avoid how attracted I am to an actual aristocrat, and find a way home? All while serving as entertainment for bored rich people? Who I have to socialize with? No.
This is worse than the end of every semester, when students are panicking about how they did on finals and I have to grade like the wind while attending all the end-of-year wrap up events.
“Can we tell them I’m not in? And then shuffle me out of some secret passageway, maybe?” I ask as Anne finishes tightening my corset.
Anne suppresses a smile so quickly I don’t know if I imagined it, and then nods. “Yes. We can do that. If you’re sure you want to? It’s a compliment that they want to see you.”
“I can see why that is. But yes. Please.”
“Her Majesty would approve. Except for the going out part.” She opens my door to say something to a footman, and then comes back. “But I have to do everything in my power to stay with you this time. I have my instructions.”
“That’s all right.” I could use someone who knows London. “Wait. Does she want you to report back to her? Have you been reporting back to her?”
Anne hesitates, the first moment of uncertainty I’ve seen from the woman. “Yes. You haven’t done anything to worry about, though. A trip to the museum, a walk in the park, and a visit to a library are all appropriate activities.”
I force my face to remain neutral when I remember exactly what we did in the library.
“But I am also to bring money for you and help you with whatever you want to see,” she says.
It may be less than ideal, but I can’t keep wandering around the city alone and penniless. Nor can I piss off a queen. “Thank you for your honesty. I won’t leave you behind.”
Anne finishes getting me ready, picking the least conspicuous dress she can. Sure, it’s made of silk, but it’s gray and only has a little bit of lace. And it’s the best I’m getting in this palace.
“Is Lord Basildon one of the visitors?” I ask while Anne’s distracted by making me presentable.
“He’s not among those in the drawing room.”
Well, good. That’s what I want. I hope he’s off charming some woman’s bank account. And that it’s going well for him, so he can live the outrageously spoiled lifestyle he’s grown accustomed to.
True to her word, Anne sneaks me through the backstairs and other secret passages until I’m out in the British sun, this time in the front of Buckingham Palace.
I only take a minute breathing in the atmosphere, because along with the morning air, there’s the strong smell of coal, horse poop and sewage.
The trifecta of Victorian London smells.
A very real, but less glamorous, part of history.
Smarter than the last time I did this, I turn to head to the stables, but Anne clears her throat and looks in the opposite direction. “Why don’t we go this way?”
“But can’t we use one of the queen’s…” Then I see Leo, leaning against his carriage.
Today he’s wearing a black suit, a green vest and a black coat showing the shape of his tapered torso. He leans nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have anything else to do but wait for me, when I know for a fact he does.
“I thought you said he wasn’t here,” I murmur to Anne.
“I said he wasn’t in the drawing room. He wanted to surprise you.” I can tell by her affectionate tone that she thinks it’s the height of romance. And since I can’t exactly run around the gated area yelling “It’s all a ruse!” I guess I’ll have to play charmed courtee.
“Hi, Leo. Ur, I mean Lord Basildon,” I say when we’re close enough that I don’t have to yell anymore. This title thing takes a long time to get used to, especially since I’ve been using his first name in my head this entire time.
“Good morning, Your Royal Highness. But you know you can call me Leo if you want.” Oh good; we’ve kissed and now we can move on to a first name basis. Even though we’ll probably cause a scandal with all our public first-naming.
“Call me Meera, then. What are you doing here? I thought you were going to be busier from now on.” I put emphasis on busier, because we both know what he should be doing.
“What kind of man would I be if I left the woman I was courting to the wilds of London with no guide?” He winks at me. He’s recovered from me being a future-lady rather well. Or he just doesn’t believe me.
“I don’t know if either of you want to go where I’m going today,” I say. “And there’s no use in stopping me; I need to go.”
“I had a nice outing planned as well, but we can do what you would like. Where to?” Leo asks while he helps me up into the carriage.
“Limehouse, please,” I say once I’m in. I don’t acknowledge the shock that my words cause. Leo stops in the process of helping Anne in, and she stops with one foot on the stair and the other hovering just off the ground.
“Devil take it, we cannot possibly go there,” Leo says. Anne cuts grateful eyes over to him, glad to have an ally in controlling me and my wild ideas.
“I assure you, we can. We just take the Strand or Embankment and then just keep going east past the Tower until we hit it. Simple, really.”
“Pedantic,” Leo says through gritted teeth. “But why would we go there?”
“I have to see it.” I have relatives, great-great-whatever-greats-relatives who came to London.
As lascars; not as pretend or real nobility.
They didn’t stay, making the voyage back and forth as often as they could to make a living as sailors.
And the British sure did make it unnecessarily hard to get back by making laws that said crews leaving had to be a certain percent English, before India was under the British Raj.
But when they were here, they probably lived in Limehouse.
It would have been crowded and hard, in a climate they weren’t used to, abandoned with too little money after they did the hard work required of the voyage over.
A very different experience than the many Indian upper- and middle-class scholars or dignitaries who came to England for advancement, education or fun. But an equally important one.
And I have to see it. Experience it. Document it. For the historian in me, but also for the child of Indian immigrants.
“It is not safe,” Leo says.
“Neither is a country estate for a governess, yet they keep going there.”
“Fair point. But this is really not safe.”
I roll my eyes. “We’ll be fine. Because it won’t be the first set of curious aristocrats coming to get something there they can’t in West London.
Or the first set of reformers trying to help without understanding any of the root causes of the problems, which spoiler alert, are policy based. They’re used to you people.”
“This is a bad idea.”
Maybe. But I need to walk the same streets as my ancestors did. The first immigrants in a long line that led to my parents and then me. “You two can stay in the car…riage.” Not a car. Cars exist right now but this isn’t one.
“I am not letting you go in alone.”
I roll my eyes but don’t argue. It’s probably the best I’m going to get. “Don’t know how you’re going to help in this situation, but all right. It’s not like I can legally stop you from entering the area.”
I get out my notebook and pen, ready to take notes on this trip. Leo raises an eyebrow when he notices which notebook it is. “What? It’s a good gift.” I hold it closer to my chest in case he has any ideas about taking it back.
“I am glad you are enjoying it,” he says neutrally.
I tune out the judgement coming from across me in the small space over our destination, letting my own mind gather thoughts and questions I want to ask people. I jot down some general themes and organize some open-ended questions while they’re still fresh in my mind.
Since every witness to my time period is dead when I’m studying it, I don’t do a lot of interviews. So I have no idea how I’m going to go about things aside from maybe finding a pub and offering to buy a drink to anyone who will talk to me.
Actually, that sounds like a solid idea.
I open the carriage window and hang my head out, clutching the side of the door in case it decides to get a wild hair and open while I’m halfway out of it. “Excuse me! Do you know the busiest pub in Limehouse?” I yell up at the coachman.
“Miss, you want me to take you to a pub? In the Oriental Quarter?”
I wince. That might be what the area is called right now, but I don’t have to like it. Nor is now probably the time to explain why that’s not the best. “Yeah. Like where there are people and food and alcohol.”
“It’s fine. Take us to a pub, please,” Leo says from the opposite window. I can’t see him because the carriage is in the way, but it’s nice he’s not arguing with me anymore about why this is a bad idea.
When I pull myself back into the carriage, I can plainly see on his face that he still thinks this is a bad idea, but he’s helping.
That deserves another giant smile. His eyes go straight to my lips at the movement, and I turn my face away before I give in to the urge to kiss him again, chaperone be damned.
But Leo isn’t one to be ignored for long. “I missed you last evening.”
“Yes. Her Majesty wanted to stay in for the night.”
“Well. I had some interesting conversations. First, I spoke to the most well-informed gossips, and they knew nothing about Forsyth.” I tense at the mention of the name. “And then I made some pointed remarks around the lady in question, and, well. I believe you.”
“You told…them?” I look to Anne to make sure she isn’t catching on to what we’re talking about.
Leo shakes his head. “I was very discreet. I told her about a situation I heard about, involving someone else, and her guilty reaction confirmed for me what you were saying was true. Which means, what else you said must be true, too. No matter how absurd.”
I breathe a sigh of relief that he believes me. It shouldn’t matter, but it does, and I don’t want to think too deeply about that.
Instead, I focus on the view outside the window.
The streets are getting narrower now, and darker as the height and closeness of buildings cut off natural light.
The smell is the same though: horrible. Apparently, that can’t get worse.
Noise, already a problem in the posh parts of town, increases along with the number of people out in the streets.
We make more stops now, as the street gets more chaotic around us.
Then we stop for longer than usual.
“We’re here. I think the Grapes will fit the bill,” the coachman calls out to us.
“Excellent.” I fix a confident smile on my face that I don’t entirely believe and leave the carriage.
If I hadn’t told the coachman where to take us, I would be shocked at where I started and where I ended up.
Because even intellectually knowing there’s a divide between the West and East Ends of London in the form of a truly obscene wealth gap, it wouldn’t have been enough to prepare me for the change between my starting location and the destination.
It’s like I’m in an entirely different world.
I nod and smile in greeting to the people closest to me, but power through into the pub. Leo, Anne, and his coachman following behind with much less enthusiasm.
A complete silence descends as almost everyone stops what they’re doing to look at me; a silence as deafening as a scream when compared to all the noise outside.
A sea of faces looks back at me. Everyone has on worn clothing, but the outfits themselves are a mix between South Asian, English, African and Chinese clothes to reflect the diversity of this neighborhood of London.
“Hello… everyone,” I say nervously.