Chapter 32

32

Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

—Psalm 23:5

The following day, Sonali asked Claire to keep an eye on Mira while she bathed. Claire agreed, and the two sat drawing at the morning room table together.

Mr. Jackson came in to settle his account, and Claire rose to assist him. Once the salesman had gone, only Mr. Filonov, Monsieur Lemaire, Lord Bertram, and his valet would still be with them.

After handing over payment, he said, “I’m off to Seaton next, but I’ll be back in a month or so.”

“You will be very welcome, sir. Safe journey and good sales.”

“Thank you, miss.”

When he had taken his leave, Claire looked back at the table, and Mira was nowhere to be seen. Her stomach sank. Not again...

She went looking for the girl, only to find her curled up, asleep, on two cushioned chairs in the adjacent dining room, the doors between them open. Mira had not slept well the night before, and she looked so peaceful, Claire didn’t have the heart to wake her. Instead she sat on the next chair and laid her shawl over her. Instinctively, Mira reached out in her slumber and latched onto her skirt.

The front door knocker sounded, but before Claire could extricate herself, Mary answered it, her voice echoing in the entry hall. “Good day, Mr. Sagar.”

“Greetings, Mary. I’d like to see Mr. Hammond, if he is available.”

“You’re in luck, then, for here he comes.”

Descending the stairs, Mr. Hammond called out, “Armaan, good to see you. Come in.”

“Thank you, and thank you, Mary.”

Mary’s heels tapped away down the corridor, while Claire remained where she was.

In the adjoining morning room, Armaan began rather formally, “I hope you don’t think it presumptuous of me, but I’ve come to ask your permission. As Miss Patel has no father living nor other male relative, and as she lives under your roof, I thought I should ask for your blessing, or at least your permission, before I propose.”

A weighty silence followed, a few seconds longer than was polite.

“Propose ... marriage?”

Armaan chuckled a bit awkwardly. “Yes, of course.”

“Forgive me, you have taken me by surprise.”

“So I see.”

“You have not known one another that long.”

“And how long did you know Vanita before you married?”

“Even less time,” Mr. Hammond admitted.

“Have you some reservation about my suitability? As you know, I served the East India Company and the office of governor. Major Hutton would no doubt vouch for my character. I may not be presently employed but I am not without means. Along with the bequest from Mr. Aston, my own father left an inheritance as well. We would not be poor.”

Mr. Hammond murmured, “Good, good...”

“I realize it will be a loss to you. You and Mira have come to rely on her, I know. And I cannot promise we would stay in Sidmouth. For a time we might live at Westmount. But for a couple like us, perhaps London would be better.”

“I don’t know. We’d hate to see you go. Has Sonali given you any indication that your offer will be looked upon favorably?”

“At times, she seems to favor me. Other times she is more aloof. Therefore I own to some nerves. I esteem her, and we have a good deal in common. Whether that is enough, we shall have to see.”

“Well, far be it from me to interfere. If you believe you are the man to make her happy, then you have my support.”

“She is not a woman well accustomed to happiness, though I would like to change that.”

“A worthy aim. All the best to you.”

“Don’t congratulate me yet. With Sonali, one never knows.”

“True. But I hope she does accept you.”

“Thank you, sir. Er ... William.” Armaan stepped from the morning room into the hall. Mira whimpered in her sleep as he passed, and he poked his head through the dining room doorway. Seeing Claire, he paused, then looked back toward the adjoining room.

He stepped inside. “You heard?”

“I did. Forgive me. It was not my intention to eavesdrop. Mira fell asleep, and I had not the heart to wake her. Sonali is most fortunate to have gained your regard.”

“I am honored you would think so.”

Claire noticed Mr. Hammond did not join them. Was he avoiding her?

Armaan looked down at Mira and offered, “If you want to lay her in bed, I would be happy to carry her up for you.”

“Thank you. I would appreciate that. She had a restless night and could use a good nap.”

He deftly slid his long fingers beneath Mira’s sleeping form and lifted her into his arms. The little girl’s eyes cracked open, and she murmured a contented “ Mamu ” before closing them once more.

Claire followed behind as he climbed one pair of stairs and then the next. As they passed the bath-room, Claire noticed the door was open, so Sonali must have finished her bath. When they reached the attic, Claire heard Sonali softly humming in her room, probably brushing her long hair.

Continuing on to the nursery, Armaan laid Mira gently down on her bed. After watching to make sure she remained asleep, he straightened.

He looked at Claire, hesitated, then said softly, “Perhaps you think it strange that I should pursue Sonali when she has been rather rude to me at times. Even bitter.”

Claire wasn’t sure how to reply, and at her silence he continued, “But you see, I was once bitter too. Bitter about the supposed friends who resented me serving with the British and came to kill me. They beat me severely before Major Hutton interfered.” He glanced down at his wrists, and she glimpsed pale scars.

Noticing her gaze, he said, “Mine are nothing to his.”

He pulled at his cuffs and went on. “For a time, I was consumed with hatred. I rehearsed every injustice, every punch and kick and evil word spat at me. Then I realized I was not hurting them—they were not chastised by my bitterness. I was the only one who suffered.

“Eventually, I learned to stop dwelling on the past and to be thankful for the good things in my present life. God has replaced those false friends with a real friend in the major. His father and brother have all but adopted me as one of their family, and now Mr. Hammond has as well. I have a niece and friends, a place to call home for as long as I choose, sufficient funds to secure a place of my own if and when I decide to, and perhaps even someone to share my life with, should she agree.

“In Sonali, I see someone who has also suffered loss, disappointment, and prejudice. I see the hard shield she holds high to protect herself from a hostile world. I wonder how she might change, perhaps even thrive, if someone were to love her, to vow to protect her and stand by her, no matter what.”

Claire said softly, “A woman could grow accustomed to that.”

He drew a deep breath. “I hope so.”

“Well then. What’s stopping you?” Claire urged. “She is right next door.”

Half an hour later, Sonali came to find her, hair loose and damp after her bath, eyes and smile gleaming.

“I am engaged, Miss Summers. To Armaan Sagar!”

“Oh, Sonali. What excellent news. I am so happy for you. So happy for you both.”

“Are you? Then, I thank you. I am sorry I have been rather ... peevish. I thought he liked you.”

“As a friend, yes. And I like him as well. I hope you will be very happy together.”

“I hope so too. I have not been as kind to him as I should be. Yet I shall endeavor to deserve him.”

“I am glad.” Claire pressed the woman’s hands, and, seeing the joy glimmering in her dark eyes, felt her remaining reservations fall away. “God bless you both.”

“Oh, didi. ” Sonali beamed. “He already has!”

Claire went back downstairs and found Mr. Hammond still in the morning room, seated at the desk, head in his hands.

Concern flared. “Are you all right?”

He looked up. “You tell me.”

“You have heard the news?”

His features tensed and his eyes flattened. “What news?”

“About Sonali and Armaan? She has accepted him. They are engaged.”

“And you...?”

“Me? I am happy for them.”

“I meant, are you to be congratulated as well?”

She swallowed. “I have not given Lord Bertram an answer but have promised to do so by tomorrow.”

“Why wait?”

“I...” Again Mamma’s face appeared in her mind. She had told Claire to follow her own conscience, but if saying yes would help her reconcile with her mother...? She glanced at the mantel clock. “At present, I am expected at Sea View. My mother has invited me.”

His expression softened. “That is excellent news. Unless ... Is her change of heart due to Lord Bertram’s proposal?”

“No, I don’t think so. But I—”

“ Mon cher William.” Monsieur Lemaire swept into the morning room, valise in hand. “I come to say, à bient?t ! I take my leave now.” Seeing Claire, he bowed. “ Merci, mademoiselle. Pour tout .”

“ De rien ,” Claire murmured in reply, and left the men to say their farewells.

Claire donned bonnet and gloves, her hands trembling as she did so. Then she walked to Sea View.

Had her mother truly invited her in? Claire hoped she had not misunderstood.

Reaching the house, Claire knocked, not presuming to enter unannounced, and a small man answered the door.

“Ah. You must be the Miss Claire I’ve heard so much about.” He bowed. “Robert Gwilt at your service.” He ushered her inside and took her bonnet and gloves.

From across the hall, a voice called, “Claire.”

Mamma, using her given name. It sent a shaft of longing and hope through her.

“Yes?” she replied rather breathlessly.

“Come and join me in my room, if you would.”

“Of course.”

“Shall I bring tea, madam?” Mr. Gwilt asked.

“Maybe later.”

Claire had expected her sisters to be there too. But only Mamma greeted her. Was this not to be the reunion Claire had longed for, after all?

Claire followed her mother into her bedchamber.

“Sit down here, if you would,” she directed. “I would like to try the mother-daughter tradition I witnessed at Broadbridge’s.”

“Oh. Very well.” Palms damp, Claire sat awkwardly on the floor, her mother in the chair behind her.

“I have taken the liberty of warming some olive oil. I trust it will serve the purpose. After all, I imagine that is what they used in ancient times, when anointing a beloved brother or sister—or in this case, daughter—for forgiveness or restoration.”

When the first drop of warm oil touched Claire’s scalp, tears filled her eyes and rained down her face. She was powerless to stop them, did not wish to stop them. How cleansing. How healing.

Her dear mother anointed her head with oil and began massaging it into her hair like a blessing, like an embrace, like a benediction.

Thank you, Lord , Claire silently prayed. I truly, deeply, thank you.

An hour later, hair freshly washed and still damp, Claire readied to depart. Only then did Mamma ask, “Have you given that man an answer yet?”

Claire shook her head. “To be honest, Mamma, I don’t want to marry him simply so he can pay off his debts. But if you wish me to, if it’s what I need to do to—”

“No. Do not marry him to please me or anyone else.”

“Truly?”

“Yes, truly.” Mamma put her arms around Claire and drew her close. “God has been working on my heart. Sarah too, truth be told.”

Claire drank in the affection, relishing her mother’s embrace.

Then Mamma sniffed and released her, adding with a grin, “Besides, Georgie has declared she does not want him for a brother-in-law.”

A relieved chuckle bubbled out of Claire. “Well, that settles it, then.”

The next morning as Claire helped Mary carry up the breakfast things, the maid leaned close and whispered, “Have ye told Mr. Hammond yet?”

“I have.”

“And must I leave?”

“He has not yet decided, as far as I know. Either way, I will help you all I can.”

“Thank ye, miss.”

They found the morning room strangely empty.

“Have you seen him today?” Claire asked.

“Earlier, aye. He left the house dressed for one of his walks.”

Sonali and Mira soon arrived and joined her at the table. Claire had little appetite but sipped tea and nibbled toast to bide her time.

After breakfast, Claire once again met Lord Bertram in the parlour, closing the door behind herself before finding her voice.

“I am afraid I cannot marry you.”

He tucked his chin. “Of course you can.”

“Theoretically I could, but I don’t want to. The truth is, I have suffered enough misery at your hands. I do not love you, and I know you don’t love me. I am sorry you are in debt, but that is not of my doing. I have no doubt, were you to inherit, you would spend all of my great-aunt’s money in short order and quickly regret marrying me. And I would regret it even sooner.”

He stared at her, angry furrows raking his brow.

She pressed on, “I know I have made mistakes in the past, yet I deserve better than a loveless marriage.”

“You are rejecting me?” he asked in disbelief.

“I am.”

“Because of that Hammond fellow, am I right? Perhaps I shall have to tell him of our past ... affiliation.”

“Do what you must. He already knows.”

That seemed to take the wind from his sails. He sighed and swore under his breath.

More gently, she said, “I take no pleasure in disappointing you. But there are other women who would suit your purposes far better. Miss Craven, for one. Now, if you will excuse me, there is somewhere I need to go.”

As soon as she was able—after she had given Mrs. Ballard instructions and looked over the mending Mary had begun and praised her progress—Claire put on her blue spencer, a bonnet, and gloves and left the house by the outside stairs.

Lord Bertram’s valet came out the front door at about the same time and paused to speak to her. “We’ll be leaving today, miss. I’m on my way to the livery to have the coach-and-four readied.”

She nodded. “Thank you for letting me know.”

Claire wondered if Lord Bertram would leave payment for his stay. She did not know but was not about to ask the indebted man for money. She had more important things on her mind.