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Authors: Jenny Brown
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imported tigers and monkeys at ruinous expense, and—it was rumored—several beautiful nautch girls, too.
And Trev’s Sanskrit was indeed excellent. His munshi had taught him not only the modern languages, Hindustani and Maratha, but also the Sanskrit in which the ancient Hindu scriptures were written. But still, he felt a tinge of disappointment. When he’d received the letter hinting that the department had a job for him, he’d expected something more challenging than deciphering ancient scripture.
He was just preparing to leave when Fanshawe raised his hand in a gesture that bid him sit. “There’s one last thing, Captain Trevelyan. In the course of your visit, Sir Humphrey will be entrusting you with a valuable jewel.”
“A jewel?”
“Yes. The Jewel of Vadha. Sir Charles tells me I can rely entirely on your discretion.”
His disappointment had been premature. This would be, after all, exactly the kind of errand he’d learned to expect when working for Sir Charles.
Fanshawe went on. “Centuries ago, the jewel was stolen from an Indian prince, the Nawab of Bundilore. More recently, it made its way into the custody of our Sir Humphrey who, unfortunately, bragged of his acquisition in a way that brought it to the attention of the current Nawab, who now insists we return it to him. We’ve offered him other jewels far more valuable, but he wants the Jewel of Vadha and no other. Apparently, its value to him rests in some mystical property.”
The under secretary removed his spectacles and looked for the first time into Trev’s eyes. “He’s willing to go to war for it. A war that would prove costly not only for our troops but for those of our native allies who have already been called on to make extraordinary sacrifices. You of all people can understand why we cannot allow that to happen.”
He could. But he felt a qualm. Fanshawe was letting him know that he was aware of what had happened to the sepoys’ wives—and of the effect that catastrophe had had on Trev. Nor did he scruple to use that knowledge to ensure Trev would go along with his plans. How nasty would this “errand” turn out to be?
Choosing his words carefully, Trev asked, “Am I to extract this jewel from the possession of an unwilling owner?”
Fanshawe allowed himself to display a look of shock. “Certainly not. Sir Humphrey knows his duty. Your task will merely be to keep it safe after he hands it over.”
“That sounds straightforward enough.”
“It is. Though I must caution you, there is another party who would like to get his hands on it—and who wants it badly enough he would be willing to employ the most despicable methods to get it. It will be your responsibility to ensure that he does not.”
“I shall see to it.”
“Good.” Fanshawe stood to let him know the interview was over “You may expect to hear from me by the end of next week, when we will have made the arrangements for your visit. If you have any important business matters to attend to while on leave, I’d suggest you take care of them before then.”
“Will my duties in regard to this matter extend beyond the visit to Sir Humphrey’s?”
“Probably not, but it never hurts to take precautions. You know how these departmental matters can be.”
He did.
Mr. Fanshawe replaced his spectacles on his nose, rose, stuck out his hand, and exchanged a firm handshake with Trev. “Sir Charles spoke so well of you, I’m glad we shall have a chance to see you in action.”
“It will be good to be in harness once again.” He bowed politely and made his way to the door.
“I sn’t it summat how Lady Hartwood can see so much in those charts of hers?” Becky said, as Temperance, newly returned from her visit with the crossing boy, passed through the sunny parlor where the girls spent their afternoons. Lady Hartwood had already arranged for a music teacher to visit, and Clary was in the next room, working with him to learn her first scale.
“The
And Trev’s Sanskrit was indeed excellent. His munshi had taught him not only the modern languages, Hindustani and Maratha, but also the Sanskrit in which the ancient Hindu scriptures were written. But still, he felt a tinge of disappointment. When he’d received the letter hinting that the department had a job for him, he’d expected something more challenging than deciphering ancient scripture.
He was just preparing to leave when Fanshawe raised his hand in a gesture that bid him sit. “There’s one last thing, Captain Trevelyan. In the course of your visit, Sir Humphrey will be entrusting you with a valuable jewel.”
“A jewel?”
“Yes. The Jewel of Vadha. Sir Charles tells me I can rely entirely on your discretion.”
His disappointment had been premature. This would be, after all, exactly the kind of errand he’d learned to expect when working for Sir Charles.
Fanshawe went on. “Centuries ago, the jewel was stolen from an Indian prince, the Nawab of Bundilore. More recently, it made its way into the custody of our Sir Humphrey who, unfortunately, bragged of his acquisition in a way that brought it to the attention of the current Nawab, who now insists we return it to him. We’ve offered him other jewels far more valuable, but he wants the Jewel of Vadha and no other. Apparently, its value to him rests in some mystical property.”
The under secretary removed his spectacles and looked for the first time into Trev’s eyes. “He’s willing to go to war for it. A war that would prove costly not only for our troops but for those of our native allies who have already been called on to make extraordinary sacrifices. You of all people can understand why we cannot allow that to happen.”
He could. But he felt a qualm. Fanshawe was letting him know that he was aware of what had happened to the sepoys’ wives—and of the effect that catastrophe had had on Trev. Nor did he scruple to use that knowledge to ensure Trev would go along with his plans. How nasty would this “errand” turn out to be?
Choosing his words carefully, Trev asked, “Am I to extract this jewel from the possession of an unwilling owner?”
Fanshawe allowed himself to display a look of shock. “Certainly not. Sir Humphrey knows his duty. Your task will merely be to keep it safe after he hands it over.”
“That sounds straightforward enough.”
“It is. Though I must caution you, there is another party who would like to get his hands on it—and who wants it badly enough he would be willing to employ the most despicable methods to get it. It will be your responsibility to ensure that he does not.”
“I shall see to it.”
“Good.” Fanshawe stood to let him know the interview was over “You may expect to hear from me by the end of next week, when we will have made the arrangements for your visit. If you have any important business matters to attend to while on leave, I’d suggest you take care of them before then.”
“Will my duties in regard to this matter extend beyond the visit to Sir Humphrey’s?”
“Probably not, but it never hurts to take precautions. You know how these departmental matters can be.”
He did.
Mr. Fanshawe replaced his spectacles on his nose, rose, stuck out his hand, and exchanged a firm handshake with Trev. “Sir Charles spoke so well of you, I’m glad we shall have a chance to see you in action.”
“It will be good to be in harness once again.” He bowed politely and made his way to the door.
“I sn’t it summat how Lady Hartwood can see so much in those charts of hers?” Becky said, as Temperance, newly returned from her visit with the crossing boy, passed through the sunny parlor where the girls spent their afternoons. Lady Hartwood had already arranged for a music teacher to visit, and Clary was in the next room, working with him to learn her first scale.
“The
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