approve of
your mother's reservations, is that clear too?" Lips trembling at her
father's rare display of temper against her, Estelle nodded. "Very well,
we will say no more, but such language will not be used in our presence again
or, indeed, anywhere. Understood?" For the third time Estelle nodded, then
sank back in her corner to sulk in silence.
Olivia
said nothing but, privately, considered the reprimand overblown. The Golden
Hind, to give its seldom-used proper name, was a "club" of dubious
reputation in Lal Bazaar patronised by a strictly male clientele. The name by
which it was universally known gave ample indication of the pleasures it
offered its members. Olivia could see no reason why a whorehouse should need a
euphemism, but she doubted if anyone in Calcutta would have agreed with her.
The
journey back was completed with no more talk.
It
was not until later that night when they were on the landing preparatory to
withdrawing into their respective bedrooms that Olivia suddenly recalled the
cryptic message she had been asked to deliver to her aunt and uncle. Was it,
she wondered, worth delivering at all? She still smarted under the onslaught of
the objectionable Mr. Raventhorne but then she shrugged to herself. Why not?
The few words were of no great consequence one way or the other.
"I
almost forgot to tell you, Uncle Josh," she began casually, "that I
happened to go out on the embankment briefly this evening and I met someone who
knows you."
"Oh?"
"He
asked me to convey to you and Aunt Bridget his regards. He said his name was
Jai Raventhorne."
As
Olivia pronounced the final two words, something strange started to happen.
Everyone froze into a sort of grotesque tableau. Lady Bridget's hand, half way
up to the sconce to extinguish the wall lamp, remained suspended; Sir Joshua's
right leg, partially through the doorway to the master bedroom, halted in
mid-air, his eyes wide and still. About to say something, Estelle had her mouth
open and it stayed so, her saucer eyes glazed with horror. Uncomprehending of
what was occurring around her, Olivia stared at each in bewilderment, the
residue of whatever else she was about to add forgotten in her throat.
The
silence was long and noticeably tense. Lady Bridget was the first to move. She
sighed and her arm dropped to her side. Without saying anything she sank slowly
to the floor in a swoon.
CHAPTER 2
"But
what did I say, Estelle?
What in heaven's name was it that I said wrong?"
Olivia
and her cousin were, at last, by themselves in the privacy of Estelle's
bedroom. Lady Bridget had been carried to her bed, revived with whiffs of
ammonia and finally put to sleep with a dose of her usual draught. Apart from
what was strictly necessary, there had been no exchanges among them. Not even
Sir Joshua, silent and stern faced, had offered any explanations or, indeed,
recriminations. The very lack of them and the continuous leaden silences were
to Olivia intolerable. She was deeply distressed.
Estelle
locked the door behind them. "You should not have mentioned that
name," she whispered severely, her own face pale. "It is not
permitted in this house, not that you could have known that."
"But
why?" Olivia's bewilderment remained. "What has he done, this . . .
this Raventhorne?" Unconsciously, she followed Estelle's example and
lowered her own voice.
" I don't know, nobody tells me anything." With an aggrieved sigh, Estelle
reached under her bed to pull out a biscuit tin. "All I know is that
everyone hates him."
"There
has to be a reason," Olivia persisted. "What has he done to deserve
such universal hate? Is it something to do with business?"
"I
suppose so." She started to munch on a ginger biscuit. "They say he's
unprincipled and unscrupulous and a blackguard without morals. Besides, he
hates us too."
"Us?"
"The
English. They also say he's plotting to turn us out of India." She laughed
scornfully. "You see? He's mad as well."
Olivia
digested the information thoughtfully.
your mother's reservations, is that clear too?" Lips trembling at her
father's rare display of temper against her, Estelle nodded. "Very well,
we will say no more, but such language will not be used in our presence again
or, indeed, anywhere. Understood?" For the third time Estelle nodded, then
sank back in her corner to sulk in silence.
Olivia
said nothing but, privately, considered the reprimand overblown. The Golden
Hind, to give its seldom-used proper name, was a "club" of dubious
reputation in Lal Bazaar patronised by a strictly male clientele. The name by
which it was universally known gave ample indication of the pleasures it
offered its members. Olivia could see no reason why a whorehouse should need a
euphemism, but she doubted if anyone in Calcutta would have agreed with her.
The
journey back was completed with no more talk.
It
was not until later that night when they were on the landing preparatory to
withdrawing into their respective bedrooms that Olivia suddenly recalled the
cryptic message she had been asked to deliver to her aunt and uncle. Was it,
she wondered, worth delivering at all? She still smarted under the onslaught of
the objectionable Mr. Raventhorne but then she shrugged to herself. Why not?
The few words were of no great consequence one way or the other.
"I
almost forgot to tell you, Uncle Josh," she began casually, "that I
happened to go out on the embankment briefly this evening and I met someone who
knows you."
"Oh?"
"He
asked me to convey to you and Aunt Bridget his regards. He said his name was
Jai Raventhorne."
As
Olivia pronounced the final two words, something strange started to happen.
Everyone froze into a sort of grotesque tableau. Lady Bridget's hand, half way
up to the sconce to extinguish the wall lamp, remained suspended; Sir Joshua's
right leg, partially through the doorway to the master bedroom, halted in
mid-air, his eyes wide and still. About to say something, Estelle had her mouth
open and it stayed so, her saucer eyes glazed with horror. Uncomprehending of
what was occurring around her, Olivia stared at each in bewilderment, the
residue of whatever else she was about to add forgotten in her throat.
The
silence was long and noticeably tense. Lady Bridget was the first to move. She
sighed and her arm dropped to her side. Without saying anything she sank slowly
to the floor in a swoon.
CHAPTER 2
"But
what did I say, Estelle?
What in heaven's name was it that I said wrong?"
Olivia
and her cousin were, at last, by themselves in the privacy of Estelle's
bedroom. Lady Bridget had been carried to her bed, revived with whiffs of
ammonia and finally put to sleep with a dose of her usual draught. Apart from
what was strictly necessary, there had been no exchanges among them. Not even
Sir Joshua, silent and stern faced, had offered any explanations or, indeed,
recriminations. The very lack of them and the continuous leaden silences were
to Olivia intolerable. She was deeply distressed.
Estelle
locked the door behind them. "You should not have mentioned that
name," she whispered severely, her own face pale. "It is not
permitted in this house, not that you could have known that."
"But
why?" Olivia's bewilderment remained. "What has he done, this . . .
this Raventhorne?" Unconsciously, she followed Estelle's example and
lowered her own voice.
" I don't know, nobody tells me anything." With an aggrieved sigh, Estelle
reached under her bed to pull out a biscuit tin. "All I know is that
everyone hates him."
"There
has to be a reason," Olivia persisted. "What has he done to deserve
such universal hate? Is it something to do with business?"
"I
suppose so." She started to munch on a ginger biscuit. "They say he's
unprincipled and unscrupulous and a blackguard without morals. Besides, he
hates us too."
"Us?"
"The
English. They also say he's plotting to turn us out of India." She laughed
scornfully. "You see? He's mad as well."
Olivia
digested the information thoughtfully.
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