Page 126 of A Modest Independence

India would have been unthinkable.

Tom had posted a letter to him in Delhi, conveying no more than was strictly necessary. There was no need to explain about Jenny or about Lady Helena’s missing brother. Fothergill could learn such details easily enough on his own. Even ill and confined to his chair, his spider’s web reached everywhere. He’d have known within three hours of Tom boarding the steamship at Dover that his protégé had left the country.

The law is a demanding mistress, my boy. She must come first, last, and always. Take care that you don’t forget it.

Tom hadn’t forgotten it. Indeed, he was in expectation of returning to his old life very soon.

With Jenny at his side.

“How much time do you require to wash and change?” he asked.

Jenny moved to the door, directing Ahmad where to place her trunk and leather portmanteaus. She glanced at Tom over her shoulder. “A half an hour, at most.”

“Is that all?”

“I’d like to visit the plantation as soon as may be.”

Ahmad dropped the last case down onto the floor. “Shall I speak to the driver?”

“If you please.”

Tom caught Ahmad’s eye. “Tell him that after the plantation we’ll likely want to visit the convalescent depot. We might have better luck there.”

“Am I coming with you?” Ahmad asked.

“We’ll need you to translate,” Jenny said. “But Mira needs to rest. Do you think she’ll be safe here on her own?”

Mira paused in the act of opening one of the portmanteaus. “You mustn’t worry about me, madam.”

Ahmad ignored his cousin. “I’ll speak to the groom.”

“But—”

“It will be better this way, Mira,” Jenny said, interrupting her maid’s protest. “You’ll be able to get some rest without worrying about what that Khansama is up to. I don’t trust the man. He has a shifty look about him.”

Tom exchanged a private glance with Ahmad. “Offer the groom something to keep watch by her door.”

Ahmad inclined his head and withdrew. Mira followed after him. Seconds later, his voice sounded outside the door, calling to the driver.

Jenny brushed her hands on her skirts as she walked back toward Tom. Her countenance was grave. “Tom…if we find out what happened to Giles’s body—”

“Don’t,” he said. “You’re only setting yourself up for disappointment.”

“I realize we probably won’t discover anything new, but if—by some chance—we learn where they’ve buried him—”

“Jenny…” He shook his head.

“I know it sounds morbid, but we must take him back with us. Whatever’s left of him. I don’t want him resting here alone where no one knows him. His place is with his family. His mother and his father, in the Castleton family vault in Hampshire.”

“Even if he was the gentleman Mrs. Kumar remembers being removed to Darjeeling—”

“But he was. I’m sure she can’t have been wrong.”

“Very well, let’s say he was. And let’s say he succumbed to his injuries mid-route.”

Jenny looked at him in pale-faced expectation.

Tom’s expression softened. “My dear, they might have buried him anywhere from Jhansi to Darjeeling. The odds of finding his remains are—”