“Now, sweetling, I don’t know you. But you said you hate me—I really hope not, for you’re very pretty, and I would very much enjoy your company.”
“No, it’s not you. It’s them. They’re so mean. My father is a viscount—theyshould do whatIwant!”
Elizabeth found that crouching, at twenty-two weeks pregnant, was becoming uncomfortable. She turned and sat on the step, inviting the girl to sit next to her. With a nod of her head, she indicated to Mr. Forbes that she was content to calm the child. Some servants gathered on the verandah, but he told them not to intrude.
“Perhaps we should introduce ourselves. I’m Mrs. Darcy, wife of the lieutenant governor of New South Wales. And you are, the Honourable…?” Elizabeth knew she must establish her precedence, for the girl clearly took an inflated view of her consequence in the local society.
“But… but, the governor is Sir Nepean—you’re not his wife.”
“Certainly not. I shall explain. But you haven’t introduced yourself.”
The girl thought for a while, looking at Elizabeth with some puzzlement. All the ladies she knew, those high in society, would never sit on the steps of a verandah. But this lady exuded such confidence, and her dress of jaconet muslin was very fine and expensive.
“The Honourable Miss Eleanor Needham… But we must curtsey; we always curtsey when introduced!”
“What I suggest, Miss Needham, is that you help me to stand—for I’m rather clumsy—and then take my hand to assist me climb the steps to the verandah. There, we shall curtsey; and, having followed protocol, you can lead me into the house. I’m a stranger to Bombay; therefore, I’ll rely on you to show me how to comport myself in this country.”
***
To Elizabeth’s dismay, Mr. Forbes had notified the governor’s office that she, a lieutenant governor’s wife, was visiting Bombay. Of course, she attended the obligatory welcoming dinner where, she found, almost all the English of the settlement were invited. There were a good many, very pretty and well-dressed women, a few ancient belles, and at least three men to every woman. When dinner was announced, she, being the guest of highest rank, was handed by the governor, Sir Nepean, into a magnificent dining-room—formerly the chapel of the Jesuit college, at one end of which a band was stationed to play during dinner. They sat down to table at eight o’clock, in number about fifty.
“Sir Nepean,” said Elizabeth, after an awkward silence of several minutes, “you may not know, but you have some notoriety in New South Wales.”
“All good, I trust.” His was a pleasant manner and pleasing countenance, though his sharp eyes led Elizabeth to perceive the keen intelligence behind them. Indeed, he had run a network of spies across Europe in the eighties and nineties.
“Perhaps. But the river named in your honour has on occasion overrun its banks, and then, the settlers nearby often curse your name.”
He laughed, those very same eyes crinkling around their edges. “Well said, Mrs. Darcy! I had heard of some honourmade to me in New Holland. But, a river? I suspect when I’m long gone, that will be the only reminder of my life.”
“And rivers endure, my lord. Whereas the honour given your superior, the Viceroy, Earl Minto, may be less persistent. Indeed, my property in New South Wales, St. Andrews, is located within theMintodistrict, which, as the way things go, may one day be absorbed into nearby Campbelltown, named after General Macquarie’s wife. But that is many years in the future.”
Elizabeth discovered that Sir Nepean was not at all high in the instep, having been born the second son of an innkeeper in Cornwall. That he had risen in government and was now a baronet admitted to the Privy Council showed how intelligence, application, and hard work could take a common man and raise him high in the land. To her, having lived in New South Wales and seen the same, she knew that it was not elevated rank that determined a person’s worth, but their character and temper. Soon, she thought, soon I’ll be reunited with my dear William, the very best of men.
Their conversation continued in a similar convivial vein. Opposite Elizabeth sat Lady Nepean. She was an attractive lady of about sixty years. On discovering that Elizabeth had been both matron and warden of the female orphanage and school, by her questions and discourse she showed she was well-informed and took a keen interest in the welfare of such unfortunates. Indeed, she was Patroness of the newly established Society for Promoting Education of the Poor.
The lady glanced to her husband, a small smile on her lips. Theirs being a marriage of over thirty years, some silent communication passed between them.
“You’ve met the Honourable Miss Eleanor Needham?” said Sir Nepean, with an air of complacency.
“It would be hard, my lord, to avoid her in Mr. Forbes’s house. Indeed, you might say Iraninto her at the earliestopportunity—or, more correctly, sheraninto me.” Elizabeth related the amusing tale of the girl rushing down the steps to the verandah and colliding with her. Subsequently, Eleanor had become a shadow to Elizabeth, following her around and proudly showing off her acquaintance with a lieutenant governor’s wife.
“Most find her very difficult,” said Lady Nepean, “but I can see you have, through your work at the orphanage, much experience with controlling young ladies—well, not yet ladies but believing themselves to be so.”
“I can forgive her,” said Elizabeth, “with her mother dying just a year ago and her father absent, life would have been very difficult. But how is it that Mr. and Mrs. Forbes have responsibility for her?”
Mr. Forbes, who sat next to Lady Nepean, entered the conversation. “Lord Needham, her father, has been a friend of many years. When his wife died, he was away from town and wrote to me, asking that we care for his daughter until his return. Of course, my dear Beth and I immediately agreed.”
“He’s not returned?”
Mr. Forbes looked to the governor, who nodded to him. “Lord Needham can be a difficult person and possesses a character that doesn’t deal kindly with any sort of dissent. He sincerely believes his outlook is always correct.”
“Ah, I understand. Similar to Commodore Bligh, who was the Governor of New South Wales before General Macquarie. In his case, the rigidity of his stance and the inflexibility of his administration led to rebellion.”
“Just so. Lord Needham had been visiting the Cape on official business when his wife died. But rather than immediately returning to Bombay, he chose to remain. Nothing could induce him to return and settle his affairs, particularly to reunite with his daughter. Lord Caledon, the governor, could do little. Needham was intransigent. Even athreat to put him on a packet to England was not enough.”
“Surely, he could have been sent to India?”
“Perhaps, but he refused. Caledon was left with no alternatives. He had no authority over him, and Needham stated he was on confidential business for the Viceroy; that Lord Caledon should write to Lord Minto for instruction.”
