hair shone like ebony silk, and her skin, the same alluring shade as her mother’s, was flawless. Her elegant figure was evident even as she sprawled across the bed, and when she turned to look at me, I was taken aback by the brightness of the golden flecks in her large, dark eyes.
“Do you really think so?” She started to sit up, then sighed and flung herself back again. “I promise I am not nearly so awful as you might think.”
“I have no reason as of yet to think you awful,” I said, “so I shall reserve judgment.” I bent down and began sorting through the dresses.
“They are all wrong,” she said. “I cannot bear to wear any of them. I—” She burst into tears again.
“I suspect this is about more than a gown. Will you confide in me?”
She joined me on the floor, crouching next to me, and bit her lip. “A bit more, yes. It is about my marriage, you see.”
“I suspected as much. Who is your groom?”
“There is no groom, not yet, because my mother thinks I am not old enough to wed, which is absurd. Nearly all of my friends are already married.”
This was not at all what I had expected. “Is there a particular young man who has inspired you?”
She shook her head. “I only want to begin my life, Emily. I will happily accept whatever groom my parents choose. If only they would choose one! Can you help me?”
“I fear I would not be the correct person for such a task,” I said. “However—and I say this with great trepidation—my mother would be more than happy to assist you in any way possible.”
“I have already appealed to her, and she has tried, but to no avail. My mother believes that I should wait another two years—two years, Emily! I will be twenty. My life will be nearly over.”
“Being twenty is not nearly so bad as you fear, I assure you,” I said. “Many girls in England are not married before then. Earlier in the century—”
“You do not understand. For me, there is nothing to do until I am married. Here, you go to parties and balls, but when I am at home, I am bored. I want my own house and my own family. Would you please speak with my mother and tell her that you do not think I am too young?”
“Would you consider remaining in England for a while? I could invite you to stay with us. You might enjoy the season in London.”
“I have been told it is like an unending party,” she said.
“That is an apt description,” I said. “If you like balls—”
“I am not sure that I would. That is to say, of course I would adore the dancing, but I have no acquaintances in London. Would I enjoy the company? And what if I found that an unending party comes to feel relentless rather than engaging?”
This was the most intelligent question I had ever been posed about the season. “I admit that it does become exhausting and I much prefer afternoons in the British Museum to ones spent at garden parties, but it is not essential to attend every soiree and ball to which one is invited. You could choose the ones that sound enticing and spend the rest of your time with friends, whom I am certain you would make quickly. Whatever your interests, you would be able to find many like-minded young ladies in London.
She seemed to perk up at this. The creases in her forehead smoothed and her sulky scowl disappeared, but almost as soon as I started to see the signs of potential happiness bubbling in her, she shook her head. “Your offer is extremely kind, and I do appreciate it greatly, but I cannot accept it. I want a home of my own.”
* * *
My mother had volunteered to host Maharaja Ala Kapur Singh’s family almost the moment that she had learned they would be traveling to Osborne for Christmas. My father, who had many connections to the subcontinent, had spent several happy months there before he married, and I always believed that his sentimental attachment to the country and its people stemmed, at least partially, from the freedom he enjoyed there during his last
“Do you really think so?” She started to sit up, then sighed and flung herself back again. “I promise I am not nearly so awful as you might think.”
“I have no reason as of yet to think you awful,” I said, “so I shall reserve judgment.” I bent down and began sorting through the dresses.
“They are all wrong,” she said. “I cannot bear to wear any of them. I—” She burst into tears again.
“I suspect this is about more than a gown. Will you confide in me?”
She joined me on the floor, crouching next to me, and bit her lip. “A bit more, yes. It is about my marriage, you see.”
“I suspected as much. Who is your groom?”
“There is no groom, not yet, because my mother thinks I am not old enough to wed, which is absurd. Nearly all of my friends are already married.”
This was not at all what I had expected. “Is there a particular young man who has inspired you?”
She shook her head. “I only want to begin my life, Emily. I will happily accept whatever groom my parents choose. If only they would choose one! Can you help me?”
“I fear I would not be the correct person for such a task,” I said. “However—and I say this with great trepidation—my mother would be more than happy to assist you in any way possible.”
“I have already appealed to her, and she has tried, but to no avail. My mother believes that I should wait another two years—two years, Emily! I will be twenty. My life will be nearly over.”
“Being twenty is not nearly so bad as you fear, I assure you,” I said. “Many girls in England are not married before then. Earlier in the century—”
“You do not understand. For me, there is nothing to do until I am married. Here, you go to parties and balls, but when I am at home, I am bored. I want my own house and my own family. Would you please speak with my mother and tell her that you do not think I am too young?”
“Would you consider remaining in England for a while? I could invite you to stay with us. You might enjoy the season in London.”
“I have been told it is like an unending party,” she said.
“That is an apt description,” I said. “If you like balls—”
“I am not sure that I would. That is to say, of course I would adore the dancing, but I have no acquaintances in London. Would I enjoy the company? And what if I found that an unending party comes to feel relentless rather than engaging?”
This was the most intelligent question I had ever been posed about the season. “I admit that it does become exhausting and I much prefer afternoons in the British Museum to ones spent at garden parties, but it is not essential to attend every soiree and ball to which one is invited. You could choose the ones that sound enticing and spend the rest of your time with friends, whom I am certain you would make quickly. Whatever your interests, you would be able to find many like-minded young ladies in London.
She seemed to perk up at this. The creases in her forehead smoothed and her sulky scowl disappeared, but almost as soon as I started to see the signs of potential happiness bubbling in her, she shook her head. “Your offer is extremely kind, and I do appreciate it greatly, but I cannot accept it. I want a home of my own.”
* * *
My mother had volunteered to host Maharaja Ala Kapur Singh’s family almost the moment that she had learned they would be traveling to Osborne for Christmas. My father, who had many connections to the subcontinent, had spent several happy months there before he married, and I always believed that his sentimental attachment to the country and its people stemmed, at least partially, from the freedom he enjoyed there during his last
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