Chapter 32 Kitty #3
He turned back to Sebastian, his expression clouded.
“I speak not only from what I have seen, but also from what I have heard. Some of our recent converts have fled from Bihar, seeking refuge here in Serampore. They describe villages ravaged by this trade, families torn apart. One man—Ram Kishen—lost his wife and two children to hunger while he labored to meet his quota. Another, a woman named Asha, watched as her husband was beaten when he refused to sign a new contract after their fields failed. Their stories are not uncommon.”
Sebastian exhaled sharply. “I must tell my grandfather.”
Mr. Carey hesitated, then nodded. “The plantations near the Rajmahal Hills, where indigo and tea grow under your family’s name, may deal with decent crops and offer honest wages, but I would not be surprised if some of the same laborers are caught in these cycles, moving between crops to survive.
The Company’s reach is insidious, Mr. Sinclair.
Even those who think themselves uninvolved are often complicit if they do nothing. ”
The words struck a chord. My husband leaned back in his chair, his expression shadowed, as though calculating the cost of what Mr. Carey had just revealed.
“I cannot ignore this news.” Sebastian turned to me, his eyes searching. “This means I’ll have to delay the search for your mother and our trip to Hyderabad.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing a nod. “Do what you must,” I said, though my voice was quieter than I intended.
The house felt eerie when I returned to my room later that evening. The air seemed heavier than usual, and I couldn’t shake the sense that something was off. I set my shawl down on a wicker chair, my gaze sweeping the room.
That was when I noticed it.
The small writing desk near the window—its drawer was slightly ajar.
I frowned and crossed the room to inspect it.
The drawer, which I always kept locked, now slid open easily.
My heart thudded as I sifted through its contents.
Papers were scattered, some crumpled, and a letter I’d hidden there was missing.
“Sebastian?” I called, my voice trembling.
He appeared in the doorway a moment later, his expression tightening when he saw my face. “What is it?”
“Someone has been in our room and rifled through our papers,” I whispered, stepping back from the desk.
Sebastian’s gaze swept the room, his jaw clenching. He moved to the desk and examined the lock. “It’s been forced,” he said grimly.
“Why? Who would—” My voice caught, and I swallowed hard. “Do you think it’s connected to the letter you sent to Hyderabad?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice low. “Mayhap it relates to my searching for answers. I cannot dismiss what I’ve been told by Carey and Wilberforce.
Drink holds me no longer—but can I truly sit back and turn a blind eye to the opium?
I fear that is exactly what the East India Company is doing.
I fear that is exactly what Parliament has done for so long.
You were right to challenge how a company could hold so much power over the affairs of kings and commoners. ”
I held my breath at such an admission.
He crossed the room to me, his hand brushing my arm in a reassuring gesture. “We need to be careful, Kitty. Whoever did this, they are watching us. Perhaps I ought to teach you how to shoot.”
The words sent a chill down my spine. For weeks, I had felt the growing weight of suspicion at something I couldn’t quite name. Now, it was no longer just a feeling.
Someone was indeed watching us.
Hoping to calm my nerves, I reached for a hairbrush waiting on the vanity. With trembling hands, I attempted to untangle my curls. Anjee would likely not assist me, having retired for the night.
Sebastian’s hand closed gently over mine. “Let me.” There was a hitch to his voice. He slid the silver brush from my fingers, his touch lingering just a heartbeat longer than necessary.
I stilled as he drew the bristles through my hair, slow and careful, as though the task were sacred. My pulse quickened at the intimacy of it.
“You’ve braved so much,” he murmured, leaning nearer, the warmth of his breath stirring the loose strands about my ear. “Allow me this, Kitty—just to care for you.”
The brush whispered through my hair, each stroke more tender than the last, until my eyes closed and the weight of fear eased beneath his touch.
Such care he took. Combing the snarled curls that coiled tighter in the humidity and heat.
I settled into bed moments later, and he next to me, the hush broken only by the chirp of insects and the sound of Sebastian’s breathing.
Sleep eluded me, haunted by Grandfather’s collapse, India’s unrest, and the dread of unseen eyes upon us.
How had Grandfather earned his fortune?
At some point, I must have drifted off, for a startled cry awoke me, along with a thrashing as Sebastian cried out. He rolled over, mumbling Hugh’s name.
A nightmare.
I wrapped my arm around his waist and rested my head against his broad shoulder to offer some comfort.
“Kitty,” he whispered once, then twice, his hand clasping mine, yet he did not stir or envelop me in his arms. The dream held him too tightly within its grasp.
Was he as afraid of losing me as I, him?