Chapter Eight

E ven noisy and busy, London announced the end of the trip, a point of relief for Ophelia. She'd spent the hours between departure and arrival with her nerves tied in tension. With Leonard's broad, muscled form across from her, the conveyance felt cramped and too intimate for her comfort. The change in scenery, for the worse, signalled the end of the torturous route. Her unease caused her to throw barbs at him without having the intention of doing it. No amount of verbal sparring would change those eight years of estrangement. The rational side of her knew it, though the turmoil he plunged her in disregarded that. Regret rode in its wake as she beat herself up for the loss of control.

The coachman pulled the horses to a halt in front of Ramsgate House, and a sigh almost found its way out of her. She grabbed Autumn's basket, impatient for the footman to help her out. Of course, the Earl would not allow for that as he hastened to open the door and do the honour of holding her gloved hand to deliver her to the front steps. And did not let her go as they ascended them to the entrance.

Knott opened the door and bowed to both. "My lord," the butler addressed him. "You have visitors awaiting in the drawing room."

Ophelia looked at the butler, her brows pleating. Servants allowed only high-ranking callers into the house, or close friends, or both. She wondered if the Duke of Brunswick sat inside, being perhaps the cause of her husband's hasty trip back.

"Thank you," her husband replied, then turned to her. "Feel free to go and refresh."

The scoundrel wanted her out of the way, but he had another thing coming. "Another time, mayhap." Her gaze went to the butler. "Knott, please call for tea, will you?" She handed him the basket with orders to make the kitten comfortable. And followed the Earl inside.

A footman pulled the drawing-room door and Ophelia's jaw dropped. No duke stood inside, but a foreigner, or rather foreigners. Two men with dark olive skin dominated the room. The older one, middle-aged, dressed in the most sumptuous attire she'd ever seen. Golden Muga silk from wide turban down to embroidered tunic, to pantaloons, to curled point shoes. The second one appeared to be a servant of some sort, clad in white clothes in equal pieces as the first.

"Greetings, Sahib, Memsahib, Sanjay at your service, " the man in white bowed to the Lord and Lady. The honorific served for British men and women living in India, though the servant likely did not find appropriate ones to use here.

"You work fast, Chandrakar," Leonard responded with a drop of sarcasm. This time, the Earl bowed to the middle-aged man. "My lady," he spoke to his wife. "Meet Maharaja Arjun Chandrakar, ruler of Madala in North India."

Understanding that he was a prince, Ophelia curtsied with the respect due to royalty. "Your Majesty." In passing, she'd heard of the kingdom located close to the Assam region.

"My wife, Lady Ramsgate." The lord completed.

"You are the one working fast, Lord Ramsgate," the royal answered in perfect English, with the merest hint of a lilting accent. "Newly arrived and have already taken a wife." Amusement tinted the middle-aged man's jet-black eyes.

Leonard said something in the man's language that had him widening his gaze at her. She did not need to be a polyglot to guess that the lord informed the Indian royal that he'd been married for a few years. When the Maharaja replied in the same language, she detected a tone of apology.

Arjun Chandrakar directed her a respectful gaze. "Your venerable husband taught me English."

"We had time to spare, did we not?" She heard the taunt in Leonard's words.

"I suppose." Was the older man's undaunted answer. The royal sent a meaningful look to his servant and the movement of his head caused his golden turban to shine in the overhead lamps.

The footmen entered, bringing a large silver tray as Ophelia invited her guests to take a seat. "May I offer you tea, Your Highness?"

He sat on an armchair as though it were a throne. "Gladly, my lady." He sent a look at Sanjay and, as though by magic, the servant produced a tin of about two pounds and passed it to the prince. "As a matter of course, I have brought some of our best tea as a gift." A smile accompanied his words.

Instead of using the one on the tray, she opened the tin. Her eyes flew to the royal at the leaves' unprecedented flavour. The superior quality of the produce spoke of why the English kept a firm hold on a country not belonging to them. "I have never had the privilege of tasting such a delicacy." The Countess said by way of thanking the gift as she dropped the leaves into the teapot.

As she offered him the fine China, he sent her a rueful grin. "I hope you enjoy the rare brew it provides."

But she heard the words he did not utter; that his country's assets fed the aristocracy's eagerness for foreign luxuries, as though the British owned them. And Assam tea scored high in England's fine tastes, which only the rich afforded.

"What he is saying," her husband interjected, "is that his people's cheap labour never comes into the equation."

Her eyes flew to her husband's as they exchanged a glance. "I must say that the papers are faulty in divulging the British interests overseas." She sipped the delicious beverage. "I am grateful for your input on the matter." And sweetened that with a bland smile.

"You chose your wife well, Ashcombe," the Maharaja commented. "Gracious and diplomatic."

Before he spoke, Leonard sent her an approving look. "What do I owe your lofty presence to?"

Arjun Chandrakar flicked his jet-black eyes at her and back to her husband. "Your people are not honouring their side of our deal." The footman took his empty cup, and he sat back, his arms on the armrests.

The Earl's curt chortle filled the room. It implied that the older man's reason did not surprise him. "I served as your, say, makeshift diplomat for eight years." Upon hearing that, complete stupefaction exploded in Ophelia, and she had to struggle with the ringing in her ears to keep track of the conversation. "I did everything in my power to advocate your cause." Ramsgate continued. "But the developments of that are not up to me."

"You have enough of a stand to influence the officials in key positions." The prince rebutted.

Her husband's jaw jerked at the royal. "After the Foreign Office signed the deal at last, I told you I did not want to have anything to do with it any longer."

The prince's beard moved with his half-smirk. "You wished to return home, and now I understand why." His light-accented voice contained a substantial undercurrent. It had everything to do with the countess, even if he did not turn to her. "I would appreciate a little more of your help, regardless."

"Or what?" Leonard's hands joined at his front. "You will keep me in your palace complex for another eight years?"

"Wait a moment!" Ophelia interjected, her brows pleating. "You mean to say you kept my husband as a prisoner for all this time?" A glimpse at the Sanjay fellow revealed him in a peculiar shake of his white turban-ed head, something she'd never seen.

Chandrakar's chin lifted to a proud angle. "He was my guest, and I treated him with all the pomp and circumstance because of his station. More still, in his capacity as a skilled linguist."

A sardonic grin drew Leonard's lips. "Except I could not cross the outer walls of the citadel."

"It be the time your countrymen took to accept to negotiate with Madala, sahib ," Sanjay dared add in broken English, implying that the British officials were to blame.

"You had the chance to witness how your people treat us like something stuck beneath their boots." Arjun insisted as he faced the Earl head-on.

Leonard's nostrils flared with a deep intake of air. "I did," he admitted. "Because of that, I agreed to advocate your cause."

"Would you not be willing to do a repeat this one time?" The prince's request sounded almost humble.

The Earl and the Prince glared at each other for long minutes. "Fine!" Leonard put out his hand. "But I can promise nothing."

Chandrakar's expression morphed into an amicable one. "Thank you."

Ophelia used that as a cue to stand, the men following suit. "If you finished, we would like to refresh after our trip."

"Of course, my lady," Arjun said in an amenable tone. "We shall meet soon."

"His Highness rented a townhouse close by for his entourage," Sanjay informed.

By the looks of it, the royal member would not let up with all that ease, Ophelia surmised as she pulled the cord to call Knott to show them out.

As the guests departed, his formidable wife turned to him and crossed her arms, her stony expression leaving no doubt as to the issue at hand.

"Talk to me," was all she demanded.

He raked his ebony strands as he released a heavy breath. "The Foreign Office came for me in the middle of our wedding night." He sat back on the settee, indicating for her to do the same. This conversation had been long overdue. "According to them, a recalcitrant kingpin was making their life difficult in India. They needed me and my knowledge of the language and culture to put the man in his place and allow England to carry on ‘civilising' those ‘savages'." He looked at her from under his long lashes. "No one in their right mind would deny king and country." Meaning he did not have the freedom to refuse the task assigned to him. "I wanted to leave you a note at least, but they said it was a confidential mission. They promised to give you some sort of explanation."

"They never did," she said with quiet indignation.

"Your warm welcome made me conclude that." He did not bother to hide his sarcasm. "Anyway, I followed their instructions and boarded a ship headed halfway across the globe."

Back in the day, he'd been to the sub-continent instead of the unimaginative grand tour around Europe. That last time around, however, had plunged him into shock. Instead of a land rich in culture, languages, and religions with the wealth to go with it, he'd encountered a deepened British rule based on violence, exploitation, and destruction. Wherever there sat a colonial base with a puppet government, one found hunger, depletion, and poverty that had not been there on his first visit. His ride to the Assam region had been peppered with beggars pleading for scraps, rundown villages, tired-looking men, women, and children working the fields whose crops would be snatched from them. The locals treated him with a hostile edge that bellied their previous open welcome. When he asked the poor people where their colourful clothes had gone, they answered that the sahibs took away all the cotton they produced, leaving them with almost nothing to work with, prices soaring sky-high, too expensive for the poor to afford it. The commodity fed the voracious factories in England. Those people told Leonard the same about the food.

"Did you go alone?" she asked, tearing him from his memories.

"No, a few lower officials accompanied me." His small retinue had snaked their way up the hills, famed for growing the best tea Assam had to offer. "Everyone thought I would make quick work of it." He tilted his head with a glint of self-mockery in his dark eyes. "When we reached the citadel, the Maharaja received us with all the ceremonious rituals of important diplomats." Chandrakar had assigned him an entire wing in the palace with an inner courtyard boasting gardens, fountains, and dozens of servants. "That had made me confident that I would be lucky enough to board a ship back to England in a matter of days."

"What changed these plans?" He observed as she paid intense attention to what he related.

"The days went by with no actual diplomatic conversation taking place." Leonard shrugged. "When weeks turned to months with no progress, I confronted Chandrakar." Ashcombe had stormed into the throne room in the middle of an audience with a neighbouring governor. "Unfazed, Arjun told me he would only negotiate a protective trade treaty at best." Not the convoluted takeover the British rulers expected. "And that he would talk only with the top officials in charge." That was when he realised he'd become little more than a hostage in the proverbial gilded cage. "After what I'd seen of the British rule in India, I could not even muster a furious reaction." Chandrakar had been right to feel mistrustful of the European intruders.

Her brows pleated and her eyes narrowed. "Did the Foreign Office do nothing?"

"Oh, yes." His hand drew a dismissive wave. "They made a couple of half-hearted attempts at rescuing me without success." No military strategy to show for it, and they cared not to investigate the palace's floor plan. "Our countrymen thought it more advantageous to retaliate by kidnapping young women and girls besides confiscating the abundant tea harvest." Indignation smothered her front at that.

A lengthy gap of stillness dominated the room until she spoke again. "So you resigned yourself to staying there with no prospects of leaving," she challenged.

"Guards followed me every minute of the day, even to the latrines." He felt not guilty for alluding to the latter in polite conversation. "Once, I dressed as a servant and mingled with a caravan that exited the citadel." He revealed. "Being unfamiliar with the territory made it easy to drag me back." An inner scoff bloomed at his failure.

"And you allowed for time to just slip by," she mocked.

"By then I'd started teaching English to Arjun and his sons and daughters." It'd taken three years for the prince to trust him enough to introduce his family. "Long talks with Arjun gave me a precise picture of the imbalance of power between Indians and the British. That was when I proposed to become his diplomat and try for a win-win deal. He agreed with the condition that he sent the messengers back and forth, which made me remain incommunicado."

"It put you and the prince at the mercy of the English's good-will."

"Precisely." He rubbed his bristled jaw. "Long story short, the negotiations happened a few months before I returned to England. Both sides got a favourable trade agreement."

"But the British are reneging on it if Prince Arjun's word is to be trusted," Ophelia summed up.

"He would not have endured months at sea with an entire kingdom to rule if it were otherwise," Leonard assured her.

"What do you intend to do?" she questioned.

"I will have to talk to Brunswick." At her show of surprise, he clarified. "He has been involved since things became serious. Offered even a large ransom, to no avail." Arjun's mind had been only on his people's welfare.

"If there is anything I can do…" she started.

The Earl nodded in understanding. "For the record, I was waiting for Brunswick to signal that I could disclose all of this to you."

"I am grateful that our unexpected visitors precipitated that particular issue." She offered him a dry smirk.

"You have got to be joking!" Titus exclaimed at Leonard's account of the recent events as they sat in the Duke's study.

Ramsgate crumpled his forehead. "I thought this to be the reason you sent me a note."

"No," Titus answered. "I received word from the Foreign Office."

"We have a situation in this case," Leonard commented.

"Your friend Chandrakar acted quickly." The duke said with a sliver of admiration.

"Knowing him as I do, he will not leave until he sees a solution." Leonard rubbed his jaw.

"You understand this is a conundrum, don't you?" Then elaborated on it. "The subcontinent and Southeast Asia are under the East India Company's tutelage."

The biggest joint-stock company in the world, founded two centuries prior, counted their own armies and governance even though they served Europe's interest in cheap commodities like cotton, spices, or tea, among others.

"Which makes the foreign office their puppets as much as the colonies' local leaders." Leonard completed.

"Precisely." Titus stood from his chair and rounded his vast oak desk. "The company only agreed to negotiate because Chandrakar was keeping you in his territory." He neared the sideboard and served two generous glasses of brandy.

"And they were not in a hurry at that," Ramsgate's wry statement elicited a smirk from Brunswick as he accepted the drink.

The duke offered one to the earl. "With the added benefit that they proved to be the real savages rather than the people under their thumb." Both men drank as they sank into their thoughts. He meant the retaliation rained down on the Maharaja's lands and people.

"What are our options?" Leonard broke the silence.

"I will make a few discreet inquiries before we can devise any line of action." The duke downed his brandy.

The earl followed suit. "You have been pivotal on my return to England," Leonard said. "For that, I am very grateful."

Titus tilted his head. "I regret it took so long, my friend."

"This is my daughter, Nalini Chandrakar," Arjun said as the butler opened the drawing room for them.

In the face of the latest developments, Ophelia saw fit to offer a dinner party for them to become closer and make it easier to solve the issue at hand.

Nalini joined her hands in the traditional Indian greeting. Dressed in a rich saree of the purest peacock green silk, the twenty-something had large almond-shaped honey-brown eyes, jet-black straight hair and flawless olive skin enhanced by the nine-yard cloth wrapped expertly around her person.

"How delightful for you to accompany your father," Ophelia welcomed her. For tonight, she'd chosen her most refined frock of deep blue embroidered with golden tread. Even so, she felt rather unsure of whether it was the right one to receive royalty. At such short notice, however, it had to do.

"The girl would not stay put," her father said in an amused tone of tenderness.

Nalini adjusted the silk over her head as she looked at Ophelia. "Why would I do that when there is an entire world to see?" She honeyed that with a small smile.

"Princess." Leonard bowed. "It is an honour to have you here," he greeted as he neared the trio.

"My lord," Nalini's eyes shone with defiance. "You left before we could do our final examination in the English language."

"Alas, Your Highness," the Earl lamented. "There were pressing matters awaiting me here. But I was about to send it to you."

"Now you can give it to me in person," she answered, and Leonard nodded as he introduced father and daughter to the other guests. The Dukes and Duchesses of Rutherford and Brunswick acknowledged their higher ranks. The Russels and Darrochs greeted the Chandrakars with great deference.

It did not take long for everyone to head to the dining room.

"I must apologise for the rather bland menu," Ophelia confessed. "My cook chose not to offend you lest she used the spices in the wrong way."

"We are glad to explore new tastes, my lady." The diplomatic reply showed Arjun's wisdom and experience as a ruler.

"Hadrian and I had the chance to taste the rich flavours as we sailed across the Indian Ocean." Her cousin Matilda extolled. She and her husband exchanged an accomplice look.

"The fabrics you are wearing are stunning," Mrs Darroch spoke as the footmen served the first course. She led the manufacturing of a traditional lace-making enterprise and had an eye for fabrics.

"We have several handmade types of silk," Nalini informed with a healthy dose of pride. Her father displayed the usual set of turban, tunic, and pantaloons, this time in a saffron hue. "It is a millenary know-how passed from mother to daughter," she completed.

"Most of the valuable fabrics reach England from varied sources," Darroch contributed. "None as fine, I am afraid." Being a shipping magnate, his vessels transported that.

"Not to mention that without the cotton coming from your side of the world, my factory would have nothing to show for." Percy Russel, owner of the mightiest cotton mill in the land, quipped.

"Before marrying Percy, I'd never seen so much cotton in one place." Elvina Russel, Hadrian's sister, offered.

"With all due respect," the Maharaja interjected. "Your admiration for our products is laudable. But I can see that you British regard us as mere luxury items suppliers." He took a sip of water, having refused the wine. "It saddens me that our culture and our people are nameless, faceless entities deprived of our humanity."

"With condescending insistence, really," Nalini supported her father.

A thick silence blanketed the dining room. No one could refute the royal's assessment. Europe's supercilious view of other nations became all but transparent. The guests around the table lowered their gazes with a tint of embarrassment.

"I witnessed that while staying in your lands," Leonard admitted. "And I am not proud to say you are right."

It occurred to Ophelia that her husband was a surprising man. The Maharaja had kept him in his palace as little more than a captive and even so, the Earl had helped them learn his language. More than that, he had not been prejudiced, acquiring a clear view of the convoluted politics and motivations that had driven Madala to make the choices it made.

"But our government is slow to see sense," Titus added.

"We must make it see sense!" Philipa, the Duchess of Brunswick, protested, touched by the Chandrakars' point of view.

"Easier said, I fear," Hadrian disputed.

"Say," Percy changed the subject. "Have you been to the British Museum?"

From than on, the conversation lightened.

After dinner, the ladies retired to the drawing room as the footmen brought in the tea service.

As if in common accord, the ladies gathered around Nalini. "I am sorry," Edwina started. "I did not mean to come across in such a poor fashion."

"We acted like na?ve brats, did we not?" Elvina commented with a self-deriding drop in her voice.

The princess gave a soothing grin. "I took no offence."

"Glad to hear that," Matilda vented.

"It is not your fault," the princess spoke again. "What does The Times say about us?"

"To tell the truth, next to nothing," Ophelia answered. She subscribed to more publications than the average lady.

"They glorify men who make a fortune by exploiting others." Philippa surmised. Slave owners who became rich by producing sugar on unpaid work. Unscrupulous merchants who bought the native assets for a fraction and sold them back in England for a king's ransom. Even professional travellers were more interested in the public acclaim than providing the naked facts.

"See? Not your fault." Nalini compromised. "It is just a lack of reliable information." The ladies nodded in agreement.

"You will have to teach me how you wrap the fabric in such a beautiful manner." Matilda had crossed the seas out to Australia and had seen her share of different peoples and cultures.

Nalini's fingers slid down the side of the part covering her head. "It is rather simple. Once you learn, you can't forget."

"And it looks so comfortable." Edwina wondered.

Meanwhile, the men sat in the dining room ruminating on the predicament Madala faced.

"Have you sorted this out yet?" Arjun asked without preamble.

"You know very well we are in a tricky situation," Rutherford retorted.

"If no one presents a solution, I will be forced to ally with neighbouring leaders and go to war." Ramsgate saw that Chandrakar would not allow the Company to trample on his kingdom. And who could blame him for it? He was only doing his job to care for his legacy, the one he wished to pass on to the next generation.

"A suicidal mission, I will say," Percy declared, his long fingers toying with the glass. The number of soldiers and weapons on the British side far surpassed Madala and its as-yet hypothetical allies.

"We might inflict some damage before perishing." The Maharaja gave a determined smirk.

"We have to try all the peaceful avenues before anyone chooses this drastic measure," Ramsgate stated and drank from his glass. He may have an ambivalent relationship with Chandrakar, but he did not wish harm to Madala. Much on the contrary. In Leonard's conception, every nation had the right to their land and customs, regardless of who or where.

His conflicting feelings stemmed from the fact that he understood Arjun's position, but still begrudged the man for keeping him in his palace as a bargaining chip.

The East India Company's officials seldom kept their word towards the natives unless it meant a direct disadvantage to them. The news the prince had brought did not surprise Leonard. When all the parties signed the agreement, he'd understood that to be a significant possibility, even a certainty.

"Gentlemen," Brunswick called. "I strongly advise you to wait. I will go through the motions with the Foreign Office. After that, we act according to their response."

"Or against it," the prince ventured as he imbibed tea.