Dear Deceiver. Mary Nichols
She sat up, knowing her cheeks were burning. ‘Thank you, sir, but how did you know my name?’
‘Why, from Captain Greenaway, of course. We do not usually take on passengers and I asked him who you were.’
‘We? Oh, you are the owner of the Silken Maid?’
‘Let us say I have an interest. I trust your voyage was a comfortable one?’
She laughed, revealing even white teeth and a dimple in her cheek which captivated him. ‘Hardly that. The weather was bad and the sea very rough. The porthole in the cabin did not fit properly and everything became soaked, which is why I had nothing but this old gown to wear this evening.’
‘It is very charming,’ he said, looking her up and down. Why on earth had she and her brother chosen Grillons? It was way above their touch. He was filled with admiration for her courage; finding herself in a tight corner, she had chosen to attack. ‘But I am sorry about the porthole. It will, of course, be repaired before the ship sails again.’
‘Which is not much help to me.’ Why was she being so belligerent? He had been nothing but pleasant and it sounded as if she were determined to quarrel with him. It was not a courteous way to behave towards a stranger. And yet he did not seem like a stranger; once again she felt as if she had always known him.
‘No, but please accept my apologies and allow me to recompense you for the inconvenience.’
‘That is not in the least necessary. The laundry maid…’ She caught sight of Teddy laughing and frowned at him. ‘Everything is being seen to and will be put to rights by tomorrow. But I thank you for the offer.’ She picked up her reticule which lay on the table at her side and stood up. If she stayed any longer she could not trust herself not to ask where she had met him before and that would be embarrassing for everyone. ‘If you will excuse me, I will retire. It has been a tiring day.’
‘Of course.’ He rose and bowed to her. ‘Are you staying in London?’
‘For the moment.’
‘Then I wish you a pleasant stay.’
‘Thank you. Come along, Teddy.’ With that she swept from the room followed by her bemused brother.
‘What was all that about?’ he demanded as they made their way up the stairs to their room.
‘Nothing.’
‘It didn’t look like nothing to me. Why, you were as red as a turkey cock…’
‘I was not.’
‘Yes, you were.’
‘Then it was because the room was so hot, and perhaps I had drunk too much of the wine.’
‘It couldn’t be because you took a shine to him, could it?’
‘No, of course not. I have hardly spoken half a dozen words to the gentleman. Why, I don’t even know his name.’
‘Do you want to know it? I will run back and find out if you like.’
‘You will do no such thing! Go to bed, we have a great deal to do tomorrow.’
Teddy sighed. ‘Pity. I wouldn’t have minded making his acquaintance. He’s a real Corinthian, don’t you think?’
‘No, I don’t. It’s obvious he is a nabob. I think he has shares in the Silken Maid’s cargo.’
‘So what? Are you become so high in the instep, you can look down on honest trading? He seems to have done well from it, judging by his dress.’
‘And if he has, what concern can it possibly be of ours?’ She paused outside the door of her room. ‘Goodnight, Teddy.’
It took her a long time to go to sleep that night. Her head was filled with the newness of everything, the sights, the smells, the sounds of a strange country. And yet it was the country her father had always called home. She must make it her home. But, oh, how difficult it was going to be! She missed Papa dreadfully. If he had been alive and bringing her to England on a visit, it would have been a wonderful adventure, but as it was she felt lost and, in spite of Teddy who was very dear to her, very lonely.
It was all very well for Mrs Goodwright to give her a book on etiquette, but it didn’t go nearly far enough. For instance, in England was it permissible for a lady to speak to a strange man in a public dining-room, if he did one a service? Ought she simply to have thanked him and turned away? But that would have been rude, especially after he had taken the trouble to find out her name and ask about the voyage.
Six months ago, she would not have troubled herself about it; she would have done what came naturally to her, secure in the knowledge of her place in society. She would not have given the rights and wrongs of it a thought, much less spent sleepless hours worrying about it.
Had she really blushed? Oh, how mortifying! Whatever had he thought of her? It was just as well they were moving on tomorrow. She didn’t want another uncomfortable encounter with that gentleman.
Two mornings later Emma and Teddy set out from two tiny rooms on the top floor of a lodging house on the north side of Oxford Street to look for work. A slight breeze had blown away the misty rain and the sun was shining, a day for optimism, they decided. It was an optimism which was soon deflated. Emma had a notion that she could look after young children or even teach, but, according to the agency to whom she applied, no one wanted their children taught by someone whose sole experience was giving Indian children the rudiments of English. She was very conscious of her outmodish brown bombazine gown and tanned complexion; English ladies seemed to be uncommonly pale.
If she had not been so concerned about their dwindling resources, she would have enjoyed exploring the city. It was so different from Calcutta and yet there were similarities. Many of the fine buildings had their counterparts in Calcutta, which had been dubbed ‘the city of palaces’, but the people who thronged the streets and rode in a bewildering array of carriages, were, for the most part, white.
The markets, like markets the world over, were colourful and noisy but the produce they sold was different: hot peas, meat pies, herrings, cabbages and bootlaces instead of chuppattis, samosas, melons, copper ornaments and saris. And though there were English churches in Calcutta, there did not seem to be any mosques and temples in London, shining pink and gold in the sun, no ruins, no fort. St Paul’s was impressive and one day she might go inside, but at that moment she was too anxious to reach her next interview. Having given up the idea of teaching, she had decided to try for a position as a lady’s maid.
The encounter lasted less than five minutes, which was the time it took to realise she would be nothing but a slave to a cantankerous old lady twenty-four hours a day, and for a pittance. Judging by the tiny fire in the grate and the chill in the house which was mirrored in the lady’s demeanour, there would be no warmth there. It was the same in many of the places to which she was sent and on the few occasions when she liked what she saw, she was turned down on the grounds of her inexperience. She returned home in the evening, hoping that Teddy had had better luck.
He had not. ‘I didn’t get any further than speaking to a supervisor,’ he said, disgustedly, as they sat over a frugal meal. ‘All he said was, “Go to Haileybury and finish your schooling, then we might be able to use you.” He said Haileybury College was like Fort William in Calcutta, intended to produce Indian administrators.’
‘I wish you could,’ Emma said. ‘But I’m afraid it’s out of the question.’
‘I know. I thought of journalism, but when I tried a newspaper office, they laughed at me, said I knew nothing, but I could be the tea-wallah, if I liked. I am not that desperate, Em.’
‘No, of course not.’
‘If I cannot work for The Company, then I would wish to do something with some excitement in it. Do you know there are hundreds of stage coaches in London? They go all over the country every day at a bruising speed, twenty miles an hour some of them. And the coachmen are fine fellows.