“The East India Company?”
“Yes. Uncle took Christian teachings, and the family converted so the Company would like him more, approve of him as a teacher. He teach English and numbers and science to Indian families who pay him, and later Uncle help them get jobs at the Company.”
“It sounds like your uncle was a smart man,” James observed.
“Yes, yes. Uncle was very smart. I was happy with family, and I learned, too!”
“How did you come to be a nursemaid for Owen Sedgewick?”
Rani sighed. “When my aunt, she die, my uncle, he thinks it is punishment from the gods for taking the Christian beliefs so he could make more money. He say he must atone. He sell everything, gave the money to his son, Manoj, and vowed to be an ascetic and wander the country. He said his son, my cousin, would take care of me, but no. Manoj tells me he found a position for me. I must go to work. But these people where he sends me, they are bad people. They beat me! I thought I would die.”
Cecilia stopped pacing, her expression full of horror. She grabbed the edge of the high-back upholstered chair she’d sat in, as she leaned forward to listen to Rani.
“I escaped one morning with the clothes I wore. I am Christian, so I go to the English church, and the vicar, Mr. Crane, and his wife, they help me find a position,” Rani finished.
“So you were not raised to be a servant, or expected to be one?” James asked.
She shook her head. “No, but it is all right,” she said with a shy smile.
“When did all this happen?” Cecilia asked. She came around to the front of the chair and sat down again.
“Five years. Right after Krishan was born. Memsahib was doing poorly, so I come to help and I stay. She, Sushmita Dhar, was beautiful, but she got sick a lot. Finally, she got sick and did not get better. We were all sad.”
She tilted her head to the side as she remembered, her brown eyes shadowed with memories. “But that last illness, it was different. Before, it was always in her chest and how she breathes. Last time it was her stomach.”
“I wonder if she had asthma,” Cecilia mused.
“Yes! That is the word Sahib used,” Rani said excitedly.
The clock chimed. James looked up at it. “It is getting late in the day. I wonder if we shall see either gentleman today. I am debating if I should have dinner at the club tonight.”
“And have rumors start that we are at outs?” Cecilia teasingly said.
James laughed.
“You may go after dinner—if you must.” She compressed her lips, then smiled wryly. “And truthfully, I suppose you must. You men claim women gossip, but I swear you bring home more gossip from the men at the clubs than I do from an afternoon tea with the ladies.”
“Sometimes,” he conceded.
“I suppose you are going to see what you can learn about Charles Sedgewick.”
“Such was my thought.”
“It’s a good thought. I discussed dinner with Cook earlier today. We are keeping to country hours tonight, so dinner should be in about an hour. I should like to go upstairs to freshen up.”
“An excellent idea,” James said. He looked over at Rani. “Miss Rangaswamy, might I keep these papers a while longer? There are a few mentions in them I’d like my solicitors to follow up on regarding Owen Sedgewick’s London connections for his business.”
“Yes, yes, please,” she said. She rose from her chair. “I should like to rest before dinner, if that is permitted?” she asked.
“Of course, Miss Rangaswamy! No need to ask. We shall see you then.”
* * *
Cecilia nestledin the corner of a parlor sofa, kicked off her slippers and brought her feet up. It felt odd not to have James here in the evening. Since they wed last May, they’d scarcely been apart in the evening. They enjoyed their quiet time after supper, talking, reading, or for her, working on her needlework.
She considered herself a competent but hardly a talented needlewoman. What she liked about needlework was it allowed her mind to wander and think of varied things. While the wandering mind hindered the speed of her needlework execution, it did not impede progress. The fichu she edged with white-work embroidery would be done when it was done.
She took a deep breath in, then let it out, feeling tension seep away. It had been a whirlwind day since George arrived at Summerworth Park during breakfast with the news from Mr. Thornbridge. She could not conceive that it had just been that morning! The thought of a child kidnapped wrung her heart, and the knowledge he was the nephew of Soothcoor was particularly upsetting. Soothcoor would cherish his nephew, and it would tear at him that he was not in London for the search.
