Page 112 of A Modest Independence

April, 1860

The train chugged into Aligarh Junction railway station, coming to a halt in a screech of metal and steam. Jenny and Tom were obliged to disembark. There was no direct rail access from Delhi to Jhansi. The remainder of their journey would have to be made under the auspices of the North Western Dak Company, a passenger and mail service that transported travelers by means of sturdy, horse-drawn carriages known as dak carts.

Ahmad and Mira emerged from the second-class carriage to join them on the dusty railway platform. Mira’s face was wan, her posture oddly wilting as she clung to Ahmad’s arm.

“What’s wrong?” Jenny went to her in concern. “Have you taken ill?”

“No madam,” Mira said. “I’m only a little overheated.”

Ahmad shot a scowl at his cousin. “She didn’t drink enough water.”

“Well, have some, do,” Jenny urged. “We’ve a while to go before we can rest. I’ll not have you fainting.”

Tom regarded Mira with a frown as she drank from one of the enamel-lined iron cups in Jenny’s tiffin basket. When she’d finished, she accompanied Ahmad to the baggage car to see to their luggage.

“What it is?” Jenny asked Tom when the two servants were out of earshot.

“She’s not very strong, is she?”

“Mira? Why would you say that?”

Tom cast the two servants another thoughtful glance. “She’s been ill in one form or another since we left Marseilles.”

“Rubbish. She’s unaccustomed to travel, that’s all.”

Tom didn’t argue the point.

Jenny thought that was an end to the matter, but as they walked to join the dak line, the idea that Mira was in frail health worked its way further and further into her mind, weighing on her conscience in the most awful way. She found herself examining her new maid with greater than usual attention.

After all, she had as much responsibility to her servants as she had to herself. More even, for they were depending on her to make sensible decisions. It was her duty to keep them safe from harm.

If Mira was truly in poor health, what was Jenny to do about it? Was she to summon a doctor? Leave India and return to Europe? To London?

Well, she could certainly do nothing about it now, not in the middle of the open country with a line of dak carts awaiting them.

“This way, sahib,” one of the drivers called out to Tom. “This way.”

The dak carts were solid, squarely-built wooden vehicles with sliding doors and rows of windows shaded by awnings. Native dak drivers and grooms bustled about them. Most were friendly, with sufficient fluency in English to communicate with the British passengers. The shaggy little dak horses were less civil. Within the first two minutes, Jenny observed one of them attempt to take a bite out of Ahmad’s arm as he passed.

“Have a care, Ahmad!” Mira cried.

“Do be careful!” Jenny exclaimed at the same time.

Ahmad only laughed, exchanging words with the driver, the pair of them smiling at the antics of the bad-tempered horses. “You’d be cross too if you had to work in this heat,” Ahmad said when he returned to them.

“I am working,” Mira retorted under her breath.

Jenny exchanged a look with Tom as he helped her into one of the dak carts. The interior was comfortable but not very large. It could seat no more than two

“I’ll ride with Mira,” Jenny said.

Tom didn’t object. He assisted Mira in, along with the tiffin basket and an earthen jar of water. A short while later, amidst many shouts from the drivers and the grooms, the dak cart surged forward

Jenny sat back in her seat, smoothing her skirts. She contemplated how best to phrase her concern for Mira’s well-being, but there was no easy way to put it. “Are you very uncomfortable here, Mira?”

Mira’s eyes turned wary. “In India?”

“In India or Egypt, or any of the places we’ve been. It’s all taken its toll on you, I daresay.”