Page 81 of A Modest Independence

He took the paper of sweets she extended to him. Inside were sugary, yellow-orange chunks. Mango, he suspected.

“My first taste of India,” Jenny said, popping one into her mouth.

The children giggled.

Ahmad and Mira stood nearby, nibbling on candy of their own. They looked as overheated and travel worn as Tom felt himself.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s get out of the sun.”

“And go where?”

“I’ve hired a gharry to take us to a hotel outside the European quarter of the city.” The horse-drawn carriage had looked a little worse for wear, but it was serviceable enough. The native driver—or gharry-wallah, as he was called—was waiting for them on the street.

Jenny stood, giving her skirts a brisk shake over her crinoline. She looked vaguely intrigued. “Are there no other British travelers there?”

“We’ll find out.”

The hotel in question turned out to be a modest establishment, nothing like the grander Calcutta hotels in which the rest of the passengers of the Bentinck were likely to be staying. Nevertheless, it was comfortable, and the gentleman at the Custom House had assured him that it was perfectly safe.

The proprietor was a cheerful Indian fellow named Mr. Vidyasagar. He spoke creditable English and was a veritable fount of information about the city. As he escorted them to their rooms, he talked of the botanical gardens and other popular sights they might see during their stay.

“It all sounds lovely,” Jenny said. “But my brother and I won’t be here long enough.”

“You can see much in a short time, Miss Holloway.” Mr. Vidyasagar opened the door to Jenny’s room. Easily triple the size of a hotel room in England, it boasted white-painted walls and a matted floor. At its heart stood a large bedstead curtained with mosquito netting.

Jenny and Mira entered along with two of the hotel servants carrying their luggage.

If not for Mr. Vidyasagar’s presence, Tom would have followed. It would be easier—and far more private—to speak with Jenny in her room than to discuss their plans in one of the common areas. But this time he was resolved there would be no hint of impropriety. No moonlit walks. No discreet holding of hands. And absolutely no visits with Jenny in her bedchamber.

His own room was situated next door. It was almost identical to Jenny’s, down to the large bathing room with a spacious tub. There were even accommodations for his valet.

Ahmad gave him a wry look. “Is this mine? Or am I to sleep outside Miss Holloway’s door like a native servant?”

“One of us may have to.” Tom’s words were spoken only half in jest. Jenny didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary in Calcutta. Though she wasn’t likely to bolt, Mrs. Plank’s accusations had plainly shaken her. They had shaken him, too. Gossip was a poison that could spread with surprising rapidity. Unchecked, it could easily find its way back to England.

He wasn’t so much concerned about himself as he was about Jenny. She was only in this predicament because of him.

After washing and changing, he joined her at one of the small tables in the courtyard. It was cooler there, inset with tiles and adorned with potted palms, exotic plants, and other greenery. The sound of rippling water emanated from a three-tiered marble fountain at the center of the room.

Mr. Vidyasagar himself served them tea. No sooner had he gone than Jenny asked, “You don’t intend us to remain in Calcutta for any length of time, do you?”

“No more than four or five days,” he said.

“Four or five days? Heaven’s sake, Tom. Didn’t you hear what I said on the ship? I don’t want to remain here any longer than necessary.”

“I heard you perfectly well.”

“Then why in the—”

“Because we’re not prepared. We haven’t sent letters to Anstruther, or to anyone else associated with Giles’s regiment. We haven’t purchased clothing appropriate to the climate. And, most importantly, we haven’t rested. We’ve been traveling nonstop for well over a month. The voyage on the Bentinck alone was in excess of three weeks. It seems only reasonable that we take the time to become accustomed to dry land again.” He paused before adding, “I’m thinking of your health in this, and the health of Ahmad and Mira.”

Jenny frowned at him. It was a variety of frown Tom had begun to recognize. One that said she resented his arguments but couldn’t disagree with the logic of them. “You’re right, as always,” she said. “Not but that I wouldn’t gladly forgo new dresses if it meant avoiding Mrs. Plank and the rest of them.”

“With any luck, we won’t see the other passengers for the remainder of our stay. They don’t strike me as the sort who’ll stray from the European quarter.”

She took a grudging sip of her tea. “I suppose I must thank you for arranging lodgings so far away from them. I don’t know how you managed it.”

“The usual way. Talking to people. Asking questions. The gentlemen I encountered at the Custom House were happy to be of service.”