A Proper Education for Girls (10 page)

Everyone smiled politely, but following Mr. Birchwoode's remarks there was a silence that no one stepped into, until Mr. Hunter asked about the availability of new tack for his horse, and Captain Forbes and Captain Wheeler appeared glad to offer their military opinion on the matter.

Mr. Hunter got up to leave. He shook Lilian's hand. “My pleasure, Mrs. Fraser,” he said. “I'm delighted to have this opportunity to renew our acquaintance.” And then he was gone.

“What a charming fellow,” said Mrs. Toomey breathlessly at Lilian's elbow. “And how pleasant for you, my dear, to see an old friend from home.”

“Indeed,” said Lilian. She closed the fingers of her right hand into a fist. Within it, she felt the hardness of a seed against her palm where Mr. Hunter had pressed it. She knew without looking what plant it had come from.

U
SUALLY, IN BETWEEN EXPEDITIONS, WHEN HE HAD
returned from some remote corner of the country laden with specimens, when he had labeled everything precisely and packed up his plants into their glass traveling cases, his dried seeds, pods, leaves, and flower heads into waterproof boxes, and shipped the whole lot back to London, Mr. Hunter would while away his time in the bazaar. He would write up his notes, drinking cup after cup of strong bittersweet coffee. He would play backgammon and perfect his grasp of Urdu, Marathi, Pushtu, or Bengali. Occasionally he would work on his book about the flora of northern India or seek out the hired affections of the bazaar's more disreputable
nautch
girls.

Ordinarily, Mr. Hunter would not have bothered with the companionship of the Europeans—their chitchat bored him. But now, with his travel plans in abeyance until after the monsoon, he allowed himself to be drawn into their society. Despite the initial hostility of her welcome, Lilian, it appeared to him, was clearly glad to renew their acquaintance. And why should she not be? After all, he was by far the tallest and most handsome man in the cantonment, as well as the most interesting—unless one was fascinated by salt reports, land tax, or the conversion of the natives, and he found it hard to believe that Lilian might be at all concerned with any of these subjects or their proponents. He wondered whether she would recall his original gift of a macuna seed. It was a long time ago now. Of
course, he had been only too glad to explain that macuna was an aphrodisiac, that in India it was readily consumed as a stimulant to the appetites of the flesh. Now, beneath the nose of her husband he had given her another macuna seed. All that remained for him was to await Lilian's response.

M
RS.
B
IRCHWOODE DISLIKED
India. Perhaps the only thing she disliked more than India was Kushpur itself, and she continually bemoaned the fact that she was stuck up-country in what appeared to be the Company's most neglected and socially barren outpost. Why her husband could not request to be moved elsewhere, she sighed to anyone who would listen, she had no idea. And poor Fanny was fast approaching seventeen and would lose her looks in this terrible heat if she wasn't careful, and then no one would ever marry her.

Thus it was that on Mr. Hunter's arrival Mrs. Birchwoode had weighed him up as a possible suitor. Certainly the man had the necessary handsome looks and bearing. He also had charm and manners, despite what Mr. Vine said. And yet, all this wandering about the place, scaling mountains and sleeping in tents, simply to obtain a handful of greenery? Mrs. Birchwoode turned the searchlight of her matrimonial gaze elsewhere. Perhaps one of those dashing young captains from the barracks would do? But Fanny was shy and gauche and needed encouragement.

Mrs. Birchwoode decided to hold a soiree.

“Perhaps some cards—whist or baccarat. Definitely some music. Myself on the piano, though Fanny is far superior, and an excellent singer too. Some punch. Some dancing, certainly.”

She invited her favorites and as many young men as she could think of.

W
HEN
M
R.
H
UNTER
arrived the room was already full. The
punkahs
were moving overhead, but with so many people in so small a room, the impact they had was imperceptible. Mr. Hunter
looked about, scanning the faces that bobbed before him. Mrs. Birchwoode favored red furnishings and wall hangings, and the image that came into his mind was from an illustration of Dante's Inferno he had seen as a boy—the heat, the crimson decor, the prancing figures …

“Mr. Hunter,” cried a voice. His spirits sank. It was his hostess. She beckoned him over. “My dear Mr. Hunter, I'm so glad you could come. I wonder whether you would be so kind as to settle a dispute between myself and Captain Lewis. The captain tells me that the lands of Sikkim and Oudh are not yet a part of the Company's territory. I told him that this is simply not true, that you had been to both of these places, and that clearly an Englishman can go anywhere in India and welcome to it.”

Mr. Hunter was hardly listening. His eyes were fixed upon Lilian. As usual, she was dressed in plain black. But her hair shone, her eyes were as clear as the sea, and her skin seemed luminous against her dark costume. She didn't need to dress in finery to take his breath away. Mrs. Birchwoode, on the other hand, was wearing a voluminous creation of emerald green shot silk, set off by violent spots of yellow velvet. Across her vast shoulders was draped a shawl of some yellow and green diaphanous material. How odd they looked sitting side by side—Lilian like a beautiful black insect, Mrs. Birchwoode like the pupa of some monstrous caterpillar. Mr. Hunter smothered a smile. He didn't think either of them would thank him for the comparison.

“Captain Lewis is correct, ma'am,” Mr. Hunter said. “I have indeed been to Oudh and Sikkim, though they're not places to which Englishmen habitually go. I went incognito, of course, and with a very small retinue of native bearers, in search of new plant species, and, as such, I remained unobtrusive. But the casual visitor would be advised to steer well clear. How long these states will retain their independence is, sadly for them, another matter. I understand that the cessation of Oudh is likely to occur before the year is out, if, indeed, it has not occurred already. Violence is sure to follow.” He looked at Lilian. He knew the region well and could have talked
about it all night, if only she had asked him. He knew she must be interested. She had always seemed curious about his travels. Until he had stopped her mouth with kisses.

“‘Sadly for them?’” cried Mrs. Birchwoode. “Oh dear. Captain Lewis, what do you say to that? Should the natives in these areas be saddened that they may shortly enjoy the benefits of the Company's protection?”

“Certainly not, ma'am,” said Captain Lewis gruffly. “The sooner it happens, the better. For everyone.”

“But the appropriation of land is proceeding far too rapidly. Why, thousands of miles of Indian territory have been ceded to John Company in the last year alone. The loss of these lands, and their revenue, can hardly be pleasing to the Indian princes, the
nawabs
, the
rajas
, all the Indian aristocracy in fact. Why on earth would they be happy to lose their income to the British
Sircar?
To make matters worse, the elimination of native rites and customs is causing great unrest. That old fool Dalhousie sitting on his settee in Bengal has no idea what he's doing.”

“Steady on,” said Captain Lewis with manly gruffness. “Dalhousie is a decent chap.”

Mr. Hunter said nothing more. He had met Captain Lewis before, and hundreds like him—vigorous fellows, who knew how to shoot from horseback and wield a cutlass in a fray with deadly dexterity. Men who admired the bravery of their
sepoys
but did not understand why Sikhs and Brahmans could not be the best of friends. Men who liked dancing and flirting with pretty girls, who knew the words of music hall songs and made sure to thrash their Hindu batman at least once a week to keep him in his place. Captain Lewis, he knew, thought about little beyond these robust activities. The possibility that the Honourable East India Company might not be appreciated by everyone was far too subtle a notion.

“You disagree, Mr. Hunter?” said Mrs. Birchwoode, blinking sleepily and hardly even bothering to smother a yawn.

“Not at all ma'am. After all, who could deny the advantages of
high taxation, land appropriation, military occupation, and the opportunity to work on railway construction?”

A heavy silence prevailed. Captain Lewis cleared his throat and looked longingly at his friends on the far side of the room. Mr. Hunter glanced again at Lilian. He was sure he detected the ghost of a smile about the corners of her mouth. He knew she would be fascinated; that she alone would appreciate his knowledge and his sarcasm. His eyes on Lilian's, he opened his mouth to add something witty … but Mrs. Birchwoode had already lost interest. She had merely brought the subject up in the hope that Captain Lewis might be detained from joining his friends Captain Wheeler and Captain Forbes over by the punch bowl.

“At last,” she cried as a piano chord rang out. “Some music. Fanny dear, you must sing for us.”

“I'd rather dance,” said Fanny sullenly.

“My dear Miss Birchwoode, would you do me the honor?” Mr. Hunter smiled.

“Fanny's with Captain Lewis for this one,” said Mrs. Birchwoode quickly.

“And you, ma'am?”

Mrs. Birchwoode puffed her cheeks out and worked energetically at her fan. “Good heavens, no! My feet would never stand it.”

Mr. Hunter affected regret at this intelligence and turned to the only other female present on that settee. “Mrs. Fraser?” He led Lilian to the side of the room that had been set aside for dancing.

“I was your third choice?” she said.

“What dance is this?” said Mr. Hunter, anxiously.

“The galop.”

“How do we start?”

“You stand here like this.” Lilian adjusted his arm. The music started and the dancers sprang into action.

“I had hoped to speak to you,” he said.

“Can you not dance and talk at the same time?”

“Not at this speed.” He whirled her around, looking down at his
feet as he tried to make sure that he put them where they were supposed to go. But he could hardly remember the steps and over and over again he saw Lilian flinch and gasp. Her dancing shoes now bore the unmistakable imprint of his boots.

“I had no idea you were such a terrible dancer,” she said.

“Sorry” he muttered. He felt himself blush. What a clumsy oaf he was! This was not the impression he had hoped to make.

“But then there are many things about you that I don't know. And, of course, much about me that you know nothing of.”

“Indeed,” he grunted, and kicked her shin. “But I would like to know. I would like to know all about you.”

“You had that chance in my father's house.”

“I was a fool not to take it.” His boot grazed her toes again.

Lilian gave a sharp intake of breath.

“I'm sorry.” He looked at her dejectedly. He was making a fool of himself. He had forgotten how much he hated balls and soirees. Over Lilian's shoulder he could see the magistrate's laughing face staring directly at him, and he wondered how many others had observed his lack of proficiency.

“Lily,” he said, gripping her tightly. “I must speak to you. I must see you. Alone.”

“Meet me in the bazaar at midnight,” said Lilian. “At the place I first met you.”

He blinked. How quickly she had agreed. Why, he had not even had to persuade her. “Will you be able to find the way?”

“Would I suggest it otherwise?”

“Will you be safe?”

Lilian snorted.

And then the dance was over, and suddenly Lilian was out of his arms. But Mr. Hunter's head was still spinning, and in his disorientation he lunged at what he thought was Lilian's departing hand. “Wait—,” he began, pulling her toward him. But the limb he was clutching turned out to belong to Mrs. Toomey.

“Oh, Mr. Hunter,” Mrs. Toomey tittered into his face. “Another
dance already?” And she bared her neglected teeth at him in a dreadful rictus and swept him back into the crowd.

L
ILIAN MADE HER
way through the narrow streets of the native town. It was late, but there were parts of the Kushpur bazaar, as in any bazaar, that remained awake no matter what time of the day or night it was. These places were hidden among a tangle of narrow alleyways along which Europeans rarely ventured—places that provided a refuge for pickpockets and thieves, for moneylenders and muggers and cutthroats of all shapes and sizes. Now, as she walked, Lilian found herself peering into the whispering doorways, the dimly lit booths, the shadows that gathered in corners, and she began to wonder at the wisdom of insisting that she make her own way through such murderous streets. She quickened her pace and kept her head down, relieved that she had chosen to wear the native male costume of turban,
pyjama
trousers and
khurta
, which she had bought in the bazaar at Rajmahal.

The sound of men's laughter echoed through the shifting darkness. She heard a movement, a gentle rustling, in the passageway behind her, but it was only one of the pathetic pariah dogs rummaging in a pile of refuse. It inched toward her, its lips peeled back over broken pointed teeth, its eyes blazing eagerly. Lilian shuddered and aimed a kick at its scrofulous shanks.

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