Page 78 of A Modest Independence

“My father was dreadful with the accounts. We were always behind on something, always coming up short. The winter before I left to become Helena’s companion it was the worst. He’d spent the last of the housekeeping money on drink again. The tradesmen were threatening to summon the bailiffs. And the church was making noises about taking away the vicarage. I daresay it was the latter that frightened him. Being a vicar is his only measure of respectability. Without that…” Her shoulder lifted in a faint shrug. “Of course, he decided that something must be done to wipe the slate clean. And being the head of the family—and a man who, by law, had rights over me and my property…”

“He sold the medallion.”

Her stomach tightened with nausea, just as it always did at the memory. “He knew how much it meant to me. How it was all I had left of her. But none of it mattered. My feelings didn’t matter. My mother didn’t matter. He simply took it from me and…I couldn’t do anything. Not to stop him, and not to get it back after it was gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Tom said.

“Don’t be. It’s an all-too-common tale. There are countless women who have been similarly treated by their husbands and fathers. In any case, I still managed to keep the necklace. It’s not very valuable. Not in terms of money. But it did belong to my mother.”

“Is that why you wear it? To remember her by?”

“I wear it to remind myself what it feels like to be powerless. I don’t ever wish to feel that way again. And I won’t,” she vowed. “Not so long as I live.” She gave his hand one last squeeze. “Are you satisfied now?”

“That depends. Have you any other secrets I should know about?”

“The rest will have to wait. We’ve dinner to get to. And I still haven’t arranged my hair.”

He at last relinquished her hand. She rose from the berth and crossed back to the basin stand, where she swiftly plaited her hair in sections and twisted it into a roll at her nape. The coiffure took mere minutes to achieve, her hands manipulating her tresses with practiced skill. When she’d finished, she looked at him over her shoulder as she secured the last pin. He was watching her, his countenance solemn.

“What is it?” she asked.

His lips twisted into a humorless smile. “I’m memorizing you.”

Jenny’s heart contracted. But she refused to give in to the brooding melancholy that had lately overtaken Tom’s spirits. Yes, they must part eventually. That had always been the plan. Until then, she wouldn’t succumb to sorrow.

And she wouldn’t let him succumb, either.

“There’s no need.” And then, with a smile, “Our adventure together isn’t quite over yet.”

Calcutta, India

March, 1860

The Bentinck reached the Port of Calcutta two days later, exactly as the captain had promised. Jenny stood on the spar deck, the heat of the morning sun blazing down upon her as the ship navigated the murky, vegetation-filled waters of the Hooghly River.

She’d read that Calcutta was known as the City of Palaces and she could certainly see why. The river was lined with elegant mansions and grand, dome-topped buildings. The largest sported a figure of Britannia atop it. She was holding a spear in her fist, as if to announce her supremacy over the city to all who ventured near.

There was no sign of any humbler sort of native dwellings made of mud or bamboo. Not from this side of the Hooghly, at least. The view from the ship was all European wealth and luxury. Only the harbor gave a true glimpse of the city’s character. It was a hive of industry, crowded with people of all descriptions.

As the Bentinck drew closer, Jenny saw scantily clad Indian gentlemen in small boats, rowing out to meet the docking ships. Some came to assist with transporting luggage and passengers. Others were washermen, come to collect the dirty linen, or peddlers seeking to sell their wares.

Exotic sights and sounds abounded. It was impossible to become used to such things. Nevertheless, since their departure from Suez, the element of wonder with which Jenny had first beheld the sights of Egypt had largely been replaced by a quieter appreciation. She’d seen so many things during their voyage. Pearl divers off the coast of Ceylon when they’d stopped to take on coal. Dolphins leaping out of the water in the Bay of Bengal. And an islet near the mouth of the Hooghly inhabited entirely by alligators.

Indian men of all ages bathed in the river, and Indian women draped in colorfully printed cloth carried baskets in their arms as they traversed the water’s edge with their children.

All of this—from bejeweled merchants to shouting donkey drivers—set against the ever-increasing heat that had come to replace the cool sea breezes they’d enjoyed when they’d first departed Egypt.

Perspiration dotted Jenny’s brow and trickled down the back of her neck. She was envious of the Indians and their sparse clothing. The lightest garment she’d brought with her was a linen day dress; however, once paired with her corset, petticoats, and crinoline, it wasn’t light at all. She resolved to purchase new gowns while they were in Calcutta. Without lighter clothing, she’d never bear the heat during the train journey to Delhi.

“That’s Fort William,” Mrs. Plank said, coming to stand at her side. The angle of her lace parasol cast a lattice-work shadow over her face. “When the sepoys rebelled, the British residents were forced to hide inside to escape the slaughter.”

Jenny stiffened. She’d thought herself quite alone. “Were they?” Her gaze drifted over the city, taking in the elegant fortress-like structure and the equally grand, Grecian-style buildings along the riverside. The latter were ornamented with colonnades and verandahs, more like princely homes of Europe than Indian villas. “It’s difficult to imagine.”

“Were you expecting something more exotic?” Mrs. Plank asked.

“I had no expectation. Every aspect of this journey has been a surprise to me.”

“Your first trip away from England, isn’t it?” Mrs. Plank gave Jenny a smile that was almost feline. “Your brother said you’d only recently come up from Devon.”