CHAPTER 35

“How far do you believe the rumours have spread by now?” Lydia asked. She and Mrs Adkins had just set to work. She stared at the neat piles of invitations on the desk. A great deal of work remained to be done.

Mrs Adkins sipped her coffee. “I am certain every English lady in the vicinity has heard the news and is anxious for details.”

Lydia could not restrain an unladylike grin.

“This reminds me. I should give orders that I am not at home to visitors.” Even as she spoke, a footman appeared.

Lady Groverton and the Misses Langley and Merrick all waited in the green drawing room.

“This is an uncivilized hour for callers. Though I believe I know what they want,” said Mrs Adkins. “You will accompany me, won’t you, Miss Garrett? I should value your support very much. Lady Groverton is something of a bulldog, and her daughters Marianne and Martha Langley are dreadful. Miss Merrick is inoffensive enough, but I’m not sure I am up to facing them all on my own.”

“I shall certainly join you if you wish it.”

Mrs Adkins’ wry look clearly stated that Lydia was displaying the lack of caution characteristic only in a person who had not met the ladies in question. But she would not give her a chance to change her mind.

“Come. We’d better hurry down.”

Down they went, entering the drawing room in time to hear one of the young ladies murmur something about a wicked adventuress being a guest in the house, and how mortified she would be to have to meet her.

The blood drained from Lydia’s face in a rush, leaving her cold for the first time since arriving in India. Mrs Adkins reddened and her jaw tightened. She took Lydia’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before sailing in for a bout of verbal sparring.

“Good morning, Lady Groverton; ladies. How are you all this morning? I do hope nothing is amiss.”

In a peculiarly deep, fruity voice, Lady Groverton reassured her there was nothing the least wrong. “We have been out this morning and realized we have not seen you this age. What have you been doing with yourself?”

“I am glad there is no trouble. It is such an unusual hour for calls I was quite taken off guard. May I present my very great friend, Miss Lydia Garrett.”

Cool greetings were exchanged and Lydia endured the sharp appraisal of four sets of eyes. She returned the scrutiny.

Though a small woman, Lady Groverton’s harsh features and coarse manner made her seem larger. Her daughters were plain, mirror images of one another, quite tall with large hands and feet. Their hair—the colour of mud bricks—was piled into elaborate coiffures that suited them poorly. Their lovely dresses did them no justice: the matching shades of rose-coloured linen clashed with their yellowish skin tones, making them look gawkier than they were.

Miss Merrick was a pretty creature, plump and rosy with soft brown hair curled and pulled back from her face with a great number of pins. Her manner was by far the most congenial of the group and she lacked the edge of hauteur demonstrated by the other women.

After lukewarm greetings there was a momentary lull.

“And where is your chaperone? I hope we will get to meet her soon.” All of Miss Merrick’s ruffles and bows seemed to be fluttering, though there was no breeze.

“No,” said Lydia, not unkindly. She could not bring herself to be cutting to the blushing young woman. “I do not have a chaperone.”

“But didn’t you come out with a party of gentlemen?”

“I did indeed.”

The fact that the adventuress had brazened her way into their very midst seemed to dawn on the ladies all at once. Lydia calmly sipped from the ubiquitous lemon water.

“I understand that there was some sort of expedition led by natives on some dreadful little island.”

Lydia lowered her glass. “There was a battle at sea against a French ship-of-the-line as well.”

Marianne Langley was shaking her head so hard her many braids were in danger of tumbling down around her ears. “Don’t you find such activities taxing? It is… why, it is unfeminine. I’m sure I would never wish to—”

Lydia had no compunctions about cutting short the elder Miss Langley. “Not at all.”

“Is Mr Harting still travelling in your party?” asked Miss Martha Langley. She was obviously not one to lose sight of the most important thing: an unattached and wealthy male.

“Yes, Mr Harting is a charming gentleman. The fourth son of the Viscount of Wiltshire. I should be delighted to introduce you to him if you desire.”

“Lucy Carrington told me he is very handsome and quite well off,” said Miss Merrick, rallying.

“He is both. He also has beautiful manners. I am sure he will make quite a stir among the young ladies of Calcutta.”

“How did you find the treasure, and what is it?” Lady Groverton asked.

“I do apologize.” Lydia smiled as sweetly as she could manage. “I cannot discuss the treasure. The Governor-General would be greatly put out with me, and I would not care to distress him. Once it is safely returned to the Indian people, the veil of secrecy will be lifted. Until then, I am afraid, I am bound to silence.”

The ladies’ smiles grew even chillier—more like grimaces than expressions of good humour. But Lydia caught Mrs Adkins restraining a grin.

Despite cajoling and clumsy attempts at verbal entrapment, they could get no more information from Lydia. Nor could they get Mrs Adkins to invite them to the ball, though they did everything but demand an invitation.

Finally the ladies gave up, departing in a huff. As the door closed behind them Lydia distinctly heard the phrase “no shame”. She turned to find Mrs Adkins wheezing and holding her sides.

“My dear, you were magnificent—so polite and immovable, and… and British. A beautiful thing to see.” She sighed and shook her head. “I shall have to invite them. The old dragon’s husband is an important man, but I did enjoy withholding the satisfaction of it for the moment.

“Did you see Martha’s face when you said you had no chaperone? She looked as if she had eaten something sour. Women such as we have a bad reputation, but I never met one with such a scandal-loving nature as those pious young ladies we just entertained.”