An Exotic Heir

by Meredith Bond

  His friend blushed. “Thank you. Thank you, Julian, you are a good friend.”

  Julian gave Reggie a smile. Then he got up from the sofa and called Reggie’s servant. He quickly gave him orders and slipped him a tip before turning back to his friend.

  “So that was why Sir Lionel called you into his office today–to tell you the good news,” Julian said, sitting back down.

  “Yes. He said that my work for the past year has been exemplary and he felt that I deserved the promotion.”

  “And so you do,” Julian concurred.

  “But you have been there for over two years, Julian. Why, you taught me everything I know. I can’t imagine why he didn’t give the promotion to you.”

  The servant came back bearing a tray with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Julian got up and took it from him, dismissing him with a nod of his head. He opened the bottle, pouring the deep red liquid into the glasses.

  “Here’s to you and your fine work,” he said, raising his glass.

  Reggie blushed again, but acknowledged his friend’s salute gracefully.

  Julian drank deeply, nearly finishing the entire glass at once. He wished it were something stronger, but took what solace he could from the wine.

  He refilled his glass and Reggie’s and then raised it again. “And here is to Sir Lionel, may he grow a backbone–in order to stand up to the bigots of the world before I die of old age in my current position.”

  This glass he finished completely, but then noticed that Reggie had not drunk any of his own.

  “Do you think it was prejudice that made him promote me instead of you?” his friend asked quietly.

  “Not Sir Lionel’s prejudice perhaps, but that of innumerable others I could name. If only… well, you have worked very hard, Reggie, and you do deserve to be promoted. But you are not the first to be promoted from below me, and you are certainly not going to be the last,” Julian said, sitting down heavily on the sofa.

  “Sir Lionel simply will never have the nerve to promote an Indian, no matter what,” he said, reaching forward once more to refill his glass.

  “But you are not wholly Indian. Your father was English.”

  Julian shook his head. “If you think that matters one whit, you are fooling yourself. Even if both of my parents and all my grandparents were English and only my great, great grandfather were Indian, I’d still be considered a native and therefore not worth the mud on Lady Renwick’s half-boots.”

  “No, Julian, that can’t be true!” Reggie cried, truly distressed.

  “Yes, my friend, it is indeed true,” Julian said, giving him a small, rueful smile.

  But then his brow cleared and he gave Reggie a true smile. “However, I may have a plan.” He drained his glass again.

  “A plan? What sort of plan?” Reggie asked nervously.

  “I shall not tell you, my friend. It needs a little more thinking through. But I assure you, when the time is right, I will do what a man should do.”

  “Julian, what are you thinking? Please don’t do anything stupid,” Reggie pleaded.

  He smiled and patted Reggie’s rounded and flushed cheek. “Have no fear, Reggie. You will know all in good time. I would not leave you out in the cold.”

  Reggie was scared. Julian could see it in his eyes, but he didn’t care. Julian Ritchie may have been overlooked for promotion twice, he may have needed to ignore the constant slights and insults heaped upon him by Lady Renwick and other Englishmen both within the government and without for the past two years, but he would stand for it no longer. It was time for him to act.

  There was only so much intolerance a man could take, and Julian had just reached his limit.

  Cassandra awoke with a start. She sat up, aware of a movement behind her, and turned to see a small lizard scurrying up the wall–a flash of green in a patch of morning light streaming in through the window.

  She stifled a scream and then remembered that these creatures were harmless to people and kept the multitude of Indian insects at bay.

  Cassandra stretched languorously, a knot of determination forming in her mind. Today she would not allow her mother to force her to go out and pay social calls.

  She had done her duty. She had been kind and charming to all of the men she had been forced to dance with the previous evening, including the ever-present Major Vernon. She’d even remembered all of the ladies’ names and chatted with them amiably.

  Now she just wanted to be left alone.

  Cassandra attempted to get up, but was held back by the mosquito netting that surrounded her bed. She tried to untuck an edge from under the mattress, but found it surprisingly difficult to do so while still on the bed. Just as she was beginning to feel mildly claustrophobic, her new maid, Gita, came in and hurried over to help.

  “Your mother is waiting for you on the veranda, Miss,” she said as she flipped the mosquito net up and out of the way.

  Cassandra got up and picked out the plainest gown she owned from her wardrobe.

  “Perhaps you would like to wear your new blue striped muslin?” Gita asked softly. “You look so lovely in it.”

  Cassandra stopped and looked at Gita, who smiled encouragingly at her with her head tilted to the side just a little. Cassandra was quickly learning that this was a very Indian gesture–it was both submissive and yet determined.

  “No. I am going to wear this. I will not be going out today.”

  “My lady has asked me to see that you are properly dressed, Miss. I am certain that she means for you to be going out.”

  “She may mean for me to go out, but I shall not.”

  Enough was enough. She had played along with her mother’s plans since she had arrived, simply because her mother had been so happy at her arrival.

  But no longer. She had been here long enough and done enough. Now she was going to do what she wanted.

  Her maid closed her eyes for a moment in resignation and helped Cassandra into her dress.

  As Cassandra left her room, she nearly tripped over the two tailors who had been sitting in the hall silently stitching her new dresses. They immediately jumped up to salaam her as she passed by.

  Even though she had been in Calcutta for a little more than two weeks, she still marveled at how different things were compared to the pristine and cool cleanliness of Miss Stillwater’s School for Girls.

  Black dust lightly floured every surface, despite the fact that the shutters were kept closed for most of the day and the sweeper came through twice with his brooms, gathering piles as he moved silently through each room.

  As she neared the entrance to the veranda, Cassandra once again nearly tripped over another servant. This time it was the punkha-wallah—the man who pulled the cord that waved a large fan on the veranda back and forth. On the veranda itself, four servants stood against the wall, seemingly doing nothing.

  She stepped into the pleasantly informal sunroom. It was already awash with bright sunlight and filled with the lovely smell of flowers, which came in from the garden just below through the large open windows.

  “There are so many servants about, Mama. Are you certain that you need them all?” she asked, as yet another liveried servant held out a chair for her at the table.

  “You will get used to them, my dear. Why, I don’t even see them anymore. They are like pieces of furniture.” Lady Renwick waved her hand dismissively.

  “Oh no, Mother, really!” Cassandra cried, horrified at the callously dismissive comment.

  “Yes, really, Cassandra. Well, what can you expect when, as you say, there are so many of them around? I’m not even sure what some of them do,” her mother said, idly taking a sip of her tea.

  “How can you not know what people in your own house do? Don’t you keep track of all that?” Cassandra quickly sat down in her chair, after realizing that the servant holding it was not going to move until she did so.

  “No, that is the job of the bania. He runs the house, hires and fires all the servants and is res
ponsible for them.”

  Cassandra was taken aback at discovering this aspect of her mother, who, she was realizing, was somewhat of a stranger to her. In England, the precision and efficiency with which Lady Renwick ran her household had been well known throughout their locality. Surely that had not been entirely the work of her housekeeper?

  Now, Cassandra began to wonder.

  A server materialized at her elbow, presenting a platter heaped with familiar English food. She helped herself to some toast and a fried egg. Tea was poured for her before she had even had time to request it, and the server disappeared into the background as noiselessly as he had appeared.

  “Speaking of which, I suppose I shall have to inform the bania to find another ayah for you. Clearly this one cannot carry out her instructions.”

  “What do you mean, Mama? I like Gita very much.”

  “Perhaps, but I told her that you were to be dressed properly and I see that you are not. That gown should be thrown out.”

  “I like this gown! And it is not Gita’s fault that I am dressed in it. She wanted me to wear my new blue dress, but I refused.”

  Cassandra took a deep breath and lifted her chin a notch. “Mama, I will not be going out visiting with you today.”

  “Do not be ridiculous, Cassandra. Of course you will be going out visiting. And not only that, but I am certain that you will have quite a few gentleman callers.”

  Cassandra carefully buttered her toast. “I shall not be receiving them.”

  “I beg your pardon?” her mother’s lips thinned in displeasure.

  “I would not want to falsely encourage anyone,” she said, taking a bite.

  Her mother sat in silence watching her eat, the veins in her neck beginning to stand out as they did whenever she was angry. She then sat back in her chair. “All right, Cassandra, enough playing games. I believe it is time you told me exactly what brought you here to Calcutta.”

  Cassandra blinked, her fork suspended in mid-air. She swallowed the mouthful of egg she had just taken and hurriedly took a sip of her tea. “I’m sorry, Mama, what do you mean? I’m here to be with you and Papa, of course. My schooling is finished.” Her practiced lie slid smoothly from her lips.

  Her mother frowned at her. “Do please give me some credit, my dear, for being more intelligent than that.”

  “Mama!”

  “You were to be presented by Cousin Amelia. To make your come-out with Olivia. What happened to change those plans?”

  Cassandra sat back and folded her hands around the napkin in her lap, fidgeting with the cloth. Should she? Could she tell her mother the truth? Would she too laugh at her as all of society had done? Would she be hurt by the slight to her own prestige?

  Cassandra looked at her mother and tried to determine what she should do.

  Her mother reached out and stilled Cassandra’s hands. “Cassandra, I am your mother. You may tell me anything.”

  “It, it didn’t work out.” Cassandra gave a little shrug of her shoulders and tried to smile. All of her hurt, all of her pain came flooding back in her mother’s simple gesture. She fought to breathe around the lump that had formed in her throat.

  “What do you mean? You didn’t give it much of a chance from what I understand. You came down from school at the end of May, spent the month of June in London and were on the ship to India by July. One month does not make a season, Cassandra. It barely gives you time at all to attend any parties or balls. Now tell me, what really happened?”

  Cassandra looked at her mother. She hadn’t been entirely sure what to expect of a mother whom she had not seen in eight years, but it certainly wasn’t this direct, hard woman. In fact, from her letters, Cassandra assumed that she would be a rather frivolous, carefree sort of person who never really gave much of a thought to anything beyond the next social event and who her daughter would marry.

  But now, of course, Cassandra was trapped. She had to tell her mother the truth. There could be no getting around it.

  Cassandra swallowed her pain. Surely her own mother would not blame her? She carefully folded the napkin on her lap and set it next to her plate of forgotten food.

  She wasn’t entirely sure how to begin. The whole thing was so embarrassing. But her mother was waiting.

  Cassandra continued to fiddle with the napkin as she tried to formulate her thoughts.

  Lady Renwick sighed and stilled her daughter’s hands once again. She said, “Was it your cousin, Olivia? Did the two of you not get along? I’m certain that she could not outshine you. If I remember correctly, she was a rather mousy little girl with brown hair and eyes.”

  “Oh no, Mama. Olivia is wonderful. She’s my closest friend, and brown hair and eyes are all the rage, I assure you.”

  Her mother nodded skeptically. “Well then?”

  Cassandra took a deep, wavering breath. “I…I fell in love, Mama.”

  Her mother’s eyes went wide. “With whom?”

  Cassandra turned her face to the garden and then proceeded to tell her mother all about Lord Felbridge and what had happened that fateful night at Vauxhall Gardens–the worst night of her life.

  “Then what?” her mother prodded gently.

  “Then all of society began laughing at me. They called me a cheeky little thing–for it was obvious to everyone that Lord Felbridge would never stoop so low as to marry the daughter of a mere baronet.”

  Cassandra sat silently looking out at the garden. A small green lizard scuttled along the window sill, snatched a beautiful yellow butterfly from the air with its mouth and then quickly disappeared out of sight again.

  She looked away, back toward her mother. She hadn’t said anything, but once again the long ropes of veins in her neck stood out.

  Slowly, Cassandra went on, “Mama, they did not care that Papa held an extremely important position in India, nor that I was cousin to an earl. They only cared that Lord Felbridge found it amusing to…to lead me on and then to laugh at me.”

  A servant approached the table cautiously. A nod from Lady Renwick, and he quickly cleared away the breakfast dishes.

  Cassandra sighed deeply as the man left. “I was thoroughly humiliated, Mama. People began to cut me. I could not bear it. I worried that it was damaging Olivia’s reputation as well, because we were always together. I couldn’t allow that to happen. I just could not hurt Olivia’s chances as well. So I left.”

  Cassandra hastily wiped away at the tears that had started to slip down her cheeks. “It was unbearable. I could go nowhere without people laughing at me behind my back. I saw them whispering behind their hands…” She let out a little sob and buried her face in her napkin.

  “People can be very cruel, Cassandra. It is always a hard lesson to learn. However, it is clear that you did not handle the situation correctly either. Had I been there to guide you, I assure you, it would have turned out differently.”

  Her mother sniffed and looked toward the garden. “I am surprised that Cousin Amelia did not see to your reputation. She could have nipped that gossip in the bud had she wanted to, I am sure.”

  “I don’t know, Mama. I’m sure that she spoke up in my defense…”

  “Well, clearly not strongly enough.” She motioned for her tea cup to be refilled by one of the servants who stood along the wall.

  “However, you are here now and I will see to you. All shall be well,” she said, adding some milk to her tea. “You’ll marry Major Vernon. He’s a good man from a good family and is well on his way to a superior position here.”

  “But Mama, I don’t want to marry Major Vernon. I don’t want to marry anyone. I don’t want to go out into society, I…”

  “Then what do you want to do, Cassandra?” her mother snapped.

  Cassandra stopped. “I… I don’t know. I just want to be left alone.”

  “To do what? You are not independently wealthy, Cassandra. You do not have the money to become an eccentric old maid. Do you want to become companion to some crotchety old woman? Do
you want to become governess to someone else’s brats? Those are your only options.”

  Cassandra was quiet. She didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t know what she was going to do. All she knew was that men could not be trusted and right now she didn’t want to have anything to do with them.

  “I’m not ready, Mama,” she said.

  “Ready or not, Cassandra, you are of age to marry and you will marry.” Her mother’s voice was firm, her edict final.

  They sat glaring stubbornly at each other for a moment. Her mother was the first to blink. She softened her eyes, saying, “I’m sure that Major Vernon will put that horrid Lord Felbridge right out of your mind.”

  Cassandra watched her mother sip at her tea.

  The only man who had ever successfully put Lord Felbridge out of her mind was Julian Ritchie. The way he had been treated the night before made her heart go out to him. He was someone who would understand what she had been through.

  She certainly didn’t want to marry him, but if all her mother was looking for was someone to rid her mind of Lord Felbridge…

  “What about Mr. Ritchie? He is a very kind…” Cassandra stopped speaking. The veins in her mother’s neck began to stand out once again and her lips pinched together.

  “Do not even think of him. He is far beneath your notice. Just because he danced with you last night does not make him a suitable match for you.”

  “But…”

  “Cassandra, you will listen to me.”

  She knew she shouldn’t say another word. She looked down at her hands clenched in her lap, but then turned to look her mother straight in the eye.

  “Very well, Mother. But I will not marry Major Vernon.”

  Chapter Three

  Look, my dear, here is Julian come to pay his respects to our little Cassie,” Sir Lionel said coming into the drawing room where Cassandra and her mother were working on their respective embroidery.

  In her surprise, Cassandra accidentally jabbed her needing into her finger. Tears came to her eyes, but she managed to stifle her cry of pain.