Page 62 of Lizzie’s Spirit

A palankeen , or litter, carried Elizabeth to the office of the mercantile house, Forbes and Co.

, located in Bombay town, next to the Fort.

The two-storey building, painted in a vibrant turquoise with lattice windows and doors of pale green, was well maintained, as befitted that of the premier trading house in India.

“Ma’am, how may I assist you?” Charles Forbes rose from his desk, making a polite bow to the English lady who, as they had not previously met, was certainly a new arrival in Bombay.

She was uncommonly handsome, wearing an elegant morning dress of jaconet muslin, appliqued with a narrow border of lace.

“My apologies, sir, for introducing myself, but I’ve only this day arrived on the Grosvenor . Mr. Coxon, the captain, was otherwise occupied, and only a midshipman was available to accompany me.”

Mr. Forbes smiled. “Perhaps we should forgo the formalities, being far from London—I am Charles Forbes, Principal of Forbes and Co.”

“Mrs. Darcy, recently from Sydney, New South Wales. Please, it would be best if you read these letters of introduction.”

Mr. Forbes took the letters and suggested that the lady sit. “Perhaps some refreshment?”

Tea was delivered, and Elizabeth settled back in the rattan chair.

The trip across the town had been unsettling.

She was well protected in the palankeen with its windows and sliding doors, but the streets were crowded with men, women, and children in all manner of strange dress, as well as bullock-drawn hackreys and horse-drawn carriages.

It seemed impossible for the vehicles to get along without colliding.

As he read, Forbes occasionally glanced at Elizabeth, his brow furrowing. “Oh, my—you are the wife of the lieutenant governor of New South Wales. But that is of vice-regal rank. Surely, you should be introduced to the governor, Sir Evan Nepean?”

“You must pardon me, Mr. Forbes, but my visit is not official. My husband, Mr. Darcy, returned to England by packet in February, and I’m to rejoin him there. I intend to stay aboard the Grosvenor …”

“Indeed you will not! You must stay with my wife and me. How could we fail to offer you the best hospitality in Bombay? And you’re also the niece of Mr. Gardiner. He and I do much business together, with the likelihood of more now that the East India Company has lost its monopoly.”

Mr. Forbes stood and walked briskly about the room. “This is so exciting. Mrs. Darcy, you’re very welcome indeed.”

Forbes cancelled all business for the day and escorted Elizabeth to the vestibule, where he requested she wait for his carriage.

Seated at a mahogany reception desk, two Indian clerks showed great respect to Mr. Forbes, having stood and bowed to him immediately upon his entering the room.

But, after he exited to the plaza, whispering to themselves in their local language, they made little attempt to disguise their indelicate admiration of Elizabeth’s well-formed figure.

Elizabeth was feeling irritable. The oppressive humidity—the tail end of the monsoon—was uncomfortable after the refreshing breezes onboard ship. Thus, she was in no mood to ignore the clerks’ vulgar, unguarded comments. Before following Mr. Forbes, she turned and addressed them directly.

“Gentlemen, a moment of your time.” Even with such a short acquaintance, her ear had picked up the nuances of Marathi as spoken in the town.

The men looked at her with astonishment and some trepidation.

“While I’m tall for a woman, I believe neither my bosom nor my buttocks are overly large.

Mayhap I should ask the opinion of my husband, the judge, or, perhaps, Mr. Forbes. ”

She smiled, that false smile so often used in the Orient to disguise displeasure. She let the implication of imminent censure hang in the air. The carriage arrived at that moment, and Elizabeth followed Mr. Forbes outside.

“I caught none of your conversation with my clerks. But you speak Marathi? You are full of surprises, Mrs. Darcy.”

After being given the direction of Mr. Forbes’s residence at Tarala, three miles from the Fort, the midshipman returned to the Grosvenor with instructions to forward Elizabeth’s baggage to the house.

Upon arrival at the residence, a tall, turbaned servant opened the carriage door and assisted Elizabeth out.

Mr. Forbes followed. As they ascended the stairs to the wide verandah, which enclosed all four sides of the building, a young girl of about eight years came hurtling down the steps.

She looked up, surprised to see Elizabeth standing directly in her path, but her momentum was too much.

She tripped and fell headlong into Elizabeth’s arms, who, with much stumbling, managed to prevent the both of them from toppling down the stairs.

“No! No, out of my way! I hate you, I hate you!” The girl’s eyes were red-rimmed; she scowled at Elizabeth and tried to pull free.

“Miss Eleanor,” remonstrated Mr. Forbes. “You must control yourself; Mrs. Darcy is a guest in our house.”

“Sir, I’ve much experience with children,” said Elizabeth, now recovered from the shock of the collision. “If you will, I’ll see to the child.”

Holding firmly to her, Elizabeth knelt down so her eyes were level with the girl, whose fair hair was in disarray; tears spilled down her cheeks.

“You’ve lovely eyes, it’s a shame they are hidden by your tears.” She withdrew a handkerchief from her sleeve. “Let me dry them for you.”

Clearly confused, the young girl looked at Elizabeth, nodded, and allowed her eyes to be gently wiped by the soft cloth.

“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— they should do what I want!”

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… Bu t 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 honour made 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 the Minto district, 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.