Page 85 of A Modest Independence

“But surely he isn’t the only witness,” Jenny said. “There were other soldiers at the siege. One of them must have seen something.”

“Not necessarily, Miss Holloway. Jhansi was the site of the second bloodiest battle of the rebellion. Not optimal conditions for making an identification. It’s a stroke of luck that Anstruther saw his lordship struck down.”

Her lips compressed. She didn’t believe in strokes of luck. And even if she did, there was certainly nothing lucky about Giles falling in battle. “Are there any men presently at Fort William who were in Jhansi during the uprising?”

“One or two, I should think.”

“May we speak with them?”

“Of course.” Sir Eustace rose from his chair and went to his desk. “Let me see what I can arrange.”

Two hours later, Jenny and Tom left Fort William with no more information about Giles than when they’d arrived. The soldiers to whom they’d spoken had admitted to knowing the late earl, but they had no secret knowledge to impart about how he’d died or what had happened to his body.

“Last I remember, he was right up with the engineers when they breached the walls,” one young man had informed them. “First to the fight, that was Captain Castleton.”

“There was smoke everywhere,” another had said. “I don’t recall much else, aside from the cannon fire.”

Jenny passed back through the Chowringhee Gate at Tom’s side, her hand tucked in his arm. “None of them were very forthcoming, were they?”

“They mightn’t have had anything more to tell.”

“You believed them?”

“I see no reason we shouldn’t. Unless you suspect a conspiracy. Though what the military could achieve by faking the death of the Earl of Castleton, I haven’t the slightest idea.”

She shot him a quelling glance. “I don’t suspect anything of the sort.”

“In any case, we’re not done yet. There are more soldiers to speak with. Friends and acquaintances of Giles’s—if we can find them.”

“Do you suppose Mr. Treadway will have written to them as well?”

“Unlikely. He doesn’t seem to have been very productive. Though if he wrote to Sir Eustace, he’s probably written to Anstruther. Other than that…” Tom shrugged. “I’ve a mind to ask Thornhill to discharge the man. There seems little use for him now that we’re here.”

“I agree. Not that we’ve found out very much. No one seems to remember anything more than the smoke and cannon fire.”

“It was a battle. They were fighting for their lives.”

“I know that. I do. It’s only…I suppose I was hoping it would be a little easier. That we’d actually learn something we didn’t already know.” She frowned. “The only new fact I’ve learned thus far is that Jhansi was the site of the second bloodiest battle of the mutiny. Where was the first, I wonder?”

Tom answered without hesitation. “Cawnpore.”

“Where Mr. Thornhill was stationed?”

“He was right in the thick of it. When news reports of the massacre first reached London, there was a time I believed he was dead.”

“Goodness. It wasn’t for very long, I hope?”

“Ten days. On the eleventh, a letter arrived from him, telling me he was coming home on the next steamer. It seemed a miracle.”

She curved her hand more tightly about his arm. “Perhaps it was.”

As a consequence of the heat, the majority of businesses in Calcutta were only open during the morning and evening hours. The middle of the day was a time for rest—and staying well out of the sun. Jenny passed the time in her room, having a long bath and washing her hair.

Tom had disappeared shortly after they’d returned from Fort William, retiring to his own rooms to write letters to Colonel Anstruther, Mr. Keane, Mr. Fothergill, and Mr. Thornhill. He’d been in a strange mood since they disembarked from the Bentinck. A consequence of Mrs. Plank’s threats, no doubt. And of Jenny’s reaction to them.

She wished she’d been more circumspect. That she hadn’t shown him how much that vile woman’s words had bothered her. As it was, he was more concerned about preserving her reputation than ever. He wouldn’t enter her rooms. Wouldn’t touch her hand. Wouldn’t look at her any more than was polite and necessary.

Even luncheon—or tiffin, as the locals called it—was a public affair. Rather than dine at a table alone, they joined the other guests for a meal comprised of cold beef, rice, curry, and iced ale.