Page 53 of A Modest Independence

Tom couldn’t get the thought out of his head.

He recognized it for what it was. It was possessiveness. A masculine instinct of the most primitive kind. He was reacting as if Jenny belonged to him. As if he had some claim over her heart—and her body. The impulse unsettled him deeply.

“The Earl of Castleton!” Mrs. Plank’s voice carried throughout the saloon. The other guests turned to stare, craning their necks in curiosity. “Why, I never. Do you mean to say that you knew his lordship? That you have reason to believe him alive?”

“His body was never recovered after the siege,” Tom said.

“Oh.” Mrs. Plank visibly deflated. “Is that all.”

Jenny’s own face fell. “You think it makes no difference?”

“It was madness during the mutiny,” Mrs. Plank replied, as if that explained all.

“Are you acquainted with the earl’s family, sir?” one of the Plank girls asked in timid tones. She was seated at Tom’s left. A sparrow-faced girl who couldn’t have been any older than seventeen.

“After a fashion,” Tom said.

“No need to be coy, sir.” Mrs. Plank pointed her fork at him. “We shall get the story out of you one way or another.”

“There’s no story to tell, I’m afraid. We had a passing acquaintance before he left for India. My sister and I hope to question those who knew him there. With any luck we may discover something to put the matter to rest for his family.”

“A great expense of time and money with little chance of success. But it needn’t be a wasted journey. You must visit us in Delhi after we’ve settled. Any acquaintance of the Earl of Castleton will be most welcome.”

Tom exchanged a glance with Jenny. He hadn’t realized Mrs. Plank and her daughters were traveling all the way to Delhi. He’d hoped to part ways with them earlier. “You’re very kind, ma’am.”

Mrs. Plank gave a dismissive wave of her fork. “Nonsense. We must stick together. It isn’t safe to be striking out on your own. Even if you have brought a pair of natives with you.”

Jenny’s fingers tightened on her glass. “My servants are from London. They’re as English as you or I.”

“Oh, my dear.” Mrs. Plank laughed heartily. “You fool no one by dressing them in frock coats and gowns. Mark my words, the instant we step foot into Calcutta, they’ll shed their clothes like any savage. The natives loll about in Egypt and India in a frightful state of undress. One must accustom oneself.”

Tom went still. He was grateful that Ahmad and Mira weren’t present. Not that he could hope to shield them from such opinions for long. Indeed, the closer they got to India, the more pronounced the English passengers’ prejudice. It was as if they’d crossed some invisible line. A through point after which anyone who wasn’t a British colonial was—as Mrs. Plank had claimed—a savage.

“I don’t believe,” he said, “that one can accurately be called a savage if one is inhabiting one’s own country.”

Mrs. Plank’s smile turned thin. “It is not their country, sir. It is ours. But I will not argue the point. This is your first visit to India. You will see for yourself soon enough.”

“I met the Earl of Castleton once,” the younger Plank girl said.

Everyone at the table turned to look at her.

“Don’t boast, Ursula,” Mrs. Plank warned.

“I wasn’t boasting, Mama. I only said I’d met him. Which is true. It was last summer. He was walking down Bond Street—”

“That would be the current earl, not the young one who died in India.” Mrs. Plank resumed cutting her meat. “The sixth Earl of Castleton left England before you were out of the schoolroom.”

“The gentleman I met was quite elderly. But very civil. He bid me good morning—”

“Mr. Finchley,” the older Plank girl interrupted. She was as sparrow-faced as the first, albeit sporting a bit more town bronze. “Why are you not married?”

Tom’s glass froze in the air, midway to his mouth. Being together on a ship conveyed a false impression of intimacy between the passengers, it was true, but it was unheard of for an eligible young lady to be so bold with a single gentleman.

“Lydia,” Mrs. Plank said sharply. “Mind your tongue.”

Miss Plank continued, unperturbed. “I would think it a fine thing to be a London solicitor’s wife. Especially if that gentleman had an acquaintance with the Earl of Castleton.”

“Lydia has no wish to settle in India,” the younger Plank girl said.