Was he as afraid of losing me as I, him?
33:Kitty
So numerous are the objects which meet our view in the heavens, that we cannot imagine a point of space where some light would not strike the eye.
MARY SOMERVILLE
As I reached for the steaming teacup early one morning after Sebastian had headed to his office, someone tapped on the door not once but twice. Rajan strode to answer, his orders to watch over his sister and me in Sebastian’s absence.
When the door opened, a lean man in a simple tunic and turban huffed as he pulled letters from a leather satchel marked with the insignia of the East India Company—three merchant ships in full sail.
“Letters for Mrs. Sinclair,” he announced as he held out the folded papers to Rajan. When I received them, dismay stabbed me.
The first bore a wax seal, smudged and cracked at the edges as if hastily reapplied. The second had no seal at all, its edges slightly crumpled.
“These have been tampered with,” I cried, waving the letters.
“Apologies, memsahib,” the courier said as he backed away from the door. “I received them in this condition from Fort William. I swear it.”
Anjee shut the door behind the courier with a firm nod to her brother, signaling that he should resume his post just beyond the veranda.
The silence in the room grew heavy as I turned the letters over. Who would have read my mail?
“Is something wrong, memsahib?”
I didn’t respond to Anjee immediately and instead unfolded the unsealed letter first. It was a simple note from Caroline Herschel, dated a week after I had left England.
My dearest Mrs. Sinclair,
I trust this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. I recently learned of your marriage and wished to offer my congratulations when I discovered your sudden departure to India.
I cannot help but wonder—have you resumed your studies of the heavens? The stars, I assure you, remain ever faithful companions, no matter how far we journey from them in heart or home.
Recently, I have been engrossed in refining our star catalogues, which has led to the rediscovery of several nebulae that I fear have long been overlooked in the works of Flamsteed. Their ethereal light reminds me of how little we know of the universe. One in particular—a dim object in the constellation Cetus—seems to hold secrets yet untold. My brother, ever eager to speculate, wonders if it might be a cluster of stars so distant that its light reaches us as a mere wisp.
The work is endless, of course, but also endlessly rewarding. Have you had the opportunity to set up your own small observatory? I recall your fascination with Orion’s Belt. It hangs bright in the winter sky, a promise that the seasons may change, but some constellations never waver.
I urge you, if time permits, to return to your study of the skies. The act of seeking, even when the answers feel beyond reach, has a way of steadying the soul. Write to me, if you can, and share your thoughts.I would be delighted to hear of your observations, however small they may seem to you.
Ever your friend and fellow stargazer,
Caroline Herschel
I fingered her note. Her concern for my studies brought a restless longing—a rekindled desire to do something more with my sheltered life, and I longed to discover what I was created for.
After placing Miss Herschel’s note on the desk, I reached for the second letter. The wax seal bore a flowing script, its elegant curves forming an indecipherable language.
I called to Anjee, and she came to peer over my shoulder. Understanding my need, she read out loud. “The phraseBismillah al-Rahman al-Rahim—In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.”
The first few lines made my breath catch as my maid continued reading.
To my granddaughter, Noor-un-Nissa Sahib Begum,
The letter was from my grandmother.
Another memory suffused me at once.Light of Women, Little Lady of High Lineage. That is what your name means,my mother had whispered in my ear while rocking me.
Anjee paused when I sucked in a pained breath, my eyes blurring in a new wash of tears over the now-strange script. I felt anything but a light—the darkness within me too great. Threatening to swallow me whole just as Edward had predicted.
