Forbidden Jewel of India

‘A writer’s post is the first rung on the ladder,’ Nick said. He seemed to be looking inwards, not at her, and whatever foolish emotions were plain on her face. ‘With luck and hard work—and provided one stays alive—it is very difficult for a writer not to become wealthy.’

‘So you must have been pleased at the opportunity.’

He was frowning, as though the memory was not a pleasant one. ‘Pleased? No, I was appalled. So I refused. I had no ambition to be a writer, no desire to go into trade, no wish to leave England. It did not help that I had no idea what I did want to do.

‘So then he beat me, cut my allowance and, when that did not work, had me forcibly delivered to the ship. Halfway out I contracted some kind of fever and I would have died if it were not for Mary—Lady Laurens. She deposited me, like a half-dead rat, on her husband’s front porch and he took me in.’

Anusha stiffened at the name. Lady Laurens, her father’s wife, the woman he had married before he came to India and who had refused to come with him. And then, fifteen years after they had parted, she decided it was her duty to be with her husband. Instead of ordering her to stay away as any wronged husband should have done, her father had allowed his wife to come out to India, had dismissed Sarasa, Anusha’s mother, and sent them back to her brother.

The disobedient, wilful wife, the one who had not borne him any children, was rewarded and the faithful mistress and companion, the mother of his daughter, discarded.

The memories of that day were still vivid. Despite the tears and the preparations she had not believed her mother when she said they must go. And then the ship from England arrived early and they were still in the house and there was Lady Laurens and all her baggage in the front yard and Sir George’s other family at the back. Sarasa had shut herself into the women’s quarters and ordered her servants to load their baggage animals immediately. She would not wait to be ordered out of her own home by this interloper.

But Anusha, not understanding, had run out to look for her father and wriggled through the bearers and the carts and the chaos. She had slipped up the steps on to the veranda and heard her father’s voice inside and a strange woman, speaking English, and she knew her mother was right: his wife who was a stranger to him had come and he did not want them any more.

She had turned around, swallowing the tears and the awful hurt, and bumped into a stretcher that had been laid out across chairs in the shade. On it there was a still figure.

Now she stared at Nick. ‘But I saw you! I saw you lying on the veranda. You were skinny and white and I thought you were dead. You were white and your hair was like straw.’

‘I thought I was dead, too,’ Nick said with a twist of his mouth that might have been dark humour or might have been remembered pain. ‘Between them George and Mary saved my life and my future.’

‘You were a boy, so more interesting than a mere girl, no doubt, even if you were not their blood,’ Anusha said, then bit her lip as she heard her own betraying bitterness. For her pride’s sake he must not think she cared.

‘You think I was a substitute for you?’ Nick got up and began to tie the legs of the game securely together. ‘No. I was a distraction at first, I think, something for them to worry about together as they rediscovered each other. And then, when I confounded all the doctors and did not die, George grew to like me and to take an interest in my career. But you have always come first in his heart.’

He tightened the knots and hooked the limp bodies over the pommel of his horse, not seeming to hear her snort of derision. Did he think her a fool to believe that? If she had any value to her father, he would not have sent her away. He only wanted her now because she had become a political pawn in some violent game of chess.

‘For Mary, I was almost a son, that is true. She had lost a child at birth and then was unable to have any more.’

‘Is that why my father left her for all those years in England? Why did he not get another wife if she could not give him sons?’

‘Because that is not legal in England. You must get a divorce and that is a ghastly process.’

‘Then why did he not bring her to India?’ Anusha demanded, determined to get to the bottom of this.

‘They became...estranged after the child’s death. The doctors said there would be no more children. She would not come to India with him, so he provided for her financially and left her in England.’ Nick swung up into the saddle and waited while she stood where she was, frowning up at him. ‘They corresponded and somehow things healed with the years. Then she received a letter from his secretary when Sir George was very ill with fever and decided it was her duty to be with him.’