April 1809
The weeks that followed were occupied by a succession of small developments, none of which seemed decisive in itself, but each of which brought Jemimah and Madhav a little closer to the possibility of leaving Calcutta.
Madhav had written to Thomas William Ashford in Penang, making a more definite enquiry about the work they had discussed. He had explained that he was considering a move to the island and wished to know whether Ashford might have a place for him in his business. He had described his experience in commercial correspondence, the keeping of accounts and the supervision of consignments, as well as his familiarity with the merchants and agents with whom his father conducted business.
Now there was little to do but wait.
Madhav was accustomed to correspondence taking time. Letters did not travel with the regularity or speed of a modern postal service, particularly when they had to pass between ports. They depended upon ships, their sailing dates and their destinations. A vessel might leave Calcutta carrying a letter for Penang, but there was no certainty that another would be ready to bring the reply back promptly. Even when a ship arrived, its letters might take some time to be sorted and delivered.
He explained this to Jemimah during one of her visits to Basu Bari.
“We may hear nothing for several weeks,” he told her. “And even when Mr Ashford replies, there may be further matters to settle. I do not wish to make arrangements on the strength of an uncertain promise.”
“I should not expect you to,” Jemimah replied. “It is better to know precisely what we are undertaking, even if it takes longer.”
“I agree. I must be certain that the work will provide a sufficient income, and that the terms are fair. I have no wish to arrive in Penang and discover that I have misunderstood what is expected of me.”
“Nor would I wish to find myself there without knowing where we are to live.”
He smiled. “That is another matter I shall put to him. Mr Ashford may be able to help us find suitable accommodation, at least until we are in a position to establish a household of our own.”
Jemimah considered this. She had begun to picture their new life, though she was careful not to allow those imaginings to become too definite. She could see herself in a house very different from Basu Bari or the Fairfax residence, learning the rhythms of a smaller settlement and becoming familiar with streets and people she had never known. But the practical questions remained, and she understood that affection alone could not answer them.
“Will he know that you intend to bring your wife?” she asked.
“Yes. I have made that clear.”
“And he has not raised any objection?”
“None. He knows me through my father’s business and has some knowledge of my circumstances. I do not believe he will consider it unusual that I should wish to establish a household.”
Jemimah smiled faintly. “I suppose I must grow accustomed to being described as your wife.”
Madhav looked at her with amusement.
“Would you rather I did not?”
“No. It is simply strange to hear it spoken of as though it were already settled.”
“I hope that one day it will seem quite natural.”
“So do I,” she said.
Their conversation turned to the life they might make in Penang. Jemimah asked about the people they might meet, whether there would be other families with whom she could become acquainted, and what sort of house they might be able to afford.
“I should not like to spend all my days alone while you were occupied with business,” she said.
“I would not expect you to. There are European families there, as well as the households of merchants and officials. It will take time to make acquaintances, but I believe there will be opportunities.”
“And our home?”
“I should like us to begin modestly. We shall need somewhere comfortable, with enough room for us to live and work. There is no reason to spend more than we can afford.”
“I have no wish for a grand house.”
“Nor have I. We shall have enough to think about without taking on unnecessary expenses.”
She smiled. “That sounds very sensible.”
“It is intended to be.”
For the first time, Jemimah began to think about the practical things she might take with her. There were books she could not bear to leave behind, and a number of personal possessions which had been with her since childhood. She would need suitable clothes for the journey and for the different climate, and there would be household things she might wish to bring if they were to establish a home of their own.
“I shall have to decide what I can reasonably take,” she said. “I cannot imagine bringing everything I possess.”
“Nor should you try. We must travel with what is necessary, and acquire other things when we are settled.”
“My books, however, will have to be considered essential.”
“I had already assumed that.”
“And I hope you are not imagining that I shall leave them behind simply to make more room for your business papers.”
He laughed. “I should not dare suggest it.”
The conversation was light, but it helped them both to imagine a future that had previously seemed remote. They were no longer speaking only of leaving Calcutta. They were beginning to consider the details of the life they might build elsewhere.
Their visits continued, and the household at Basu Bari remained as welcoming as ever. Kamala was often there, sometimes with her husband and children, and Jemimah still found herself drawn into the ordinary business of the family: conversations in the courtyard, the arrival of visitors, the arrangements for meals, and the small domestic matters which gave the house its familiar character.
At home, too, life continued much as it had before. Jemimah spent time with Frances, whose lessons and interests were becoming more varied as she grew older. The new governess was still finding her place in the household, and Frances had not entirely overcome her reluctance to the change. Jemimah sometimes helped her with a difficult passage or listened to her complaints, though she tried not to interfere with the governess’s responsibilities.
Sophia was increasingly occupied with her own companions, while Georgiana remained a reassuring presence. Jemimah was careful not to let their conversations turn towards the future she had not yet chosen to share. This was becoming more difficult as the weeks passed, for she was conscious that she was keeping something important from the sister who had always been closest to her. But until the arrangements were certain, she believed it better not to involve Georgiana.
The first reply from Penang did not arrive as quickly as Madhav had hoped.
He made enquiries through the commercial connections available to him, but there was little to be gained by pressing them. He did not wish to appear impatient, particularly when Ashford had made no promise of an immediate answer. He continued with his business and family responsibilities, while Jemimah did her best to put the matter aside during the ordinary course of her days.
At last, one afternoon, Madhav received word that a letter from Penang had arrived.
He read it carefully before arranging to meet Jemimah. Ashford’s reply was encouraging. He was willing to employ Madhav, subject to agreement about the precise duties and remuneration. There was work to be done in the management of commercial correspondence, accounts and consignments, and Ashford believed Madhav’s experience would make him well suited to the position.
The terms were not extravagant, but they offered a reasonable beginning. Madhav would receive a regular payment, with the possibility of additional earnings as his responsibilities increased. Ashford also suggested that there might be opportunities for Madhav to establish further commercial connections through the business.
He had not made a final agreement, and there were still details to clarify. But for the first time, Madhav had something substantial to consider.
Ashford had also acknowledged that Madhav intended to bring his wife. He offered to make enquiries about temporary accommodation for them upon their arrival, so that they would not be obliged to find somewhere to live immediately after disembarking.
When Jemimah next saw him, she could tell from his expression that the news was favourable.
“You have heard from Mr Ashford?” she asked.
“I have. And I think we may at last begin to regard the possibility as something more than an idea.”
He explained the contents of the letter, taking care to distinguish what Ashford had offered from what still needed to be settled.
“He is prepared to employ me,” Madhav said. “The work is much as I expected. I should be responsible for correspondence, accounts and the supervision of certain consignments, and would also deal with merchants and agents on his behalf. He believes there will be sufficient work to justify my appointment.”
“And the terms?”
“They are reasonable, though I have written back with a few questions. The regular payment should be enough for us to live modestly, and there may be opportunities to earn more as I take on further responsibilities. I want to be quite certain about the arrangements before I accept.”
Jemimah listened carefully.
“And your own savings? Will they be sufficient for the journey and the first few months?”
“I believe so. I have put money aside over the years, and I have enough for our passage and a modest reserve when we arrive. We shall need to be careful until my income is established, but I do not think we shall be without resources.”
“Then we shall have to be economical.”
“I had already assumed that you would not expect a lavish establishment.”
“Indeed not. I should much prefer to begin with what we can afford, rather than spend our first months worrying about money.”
He smiled. “I am glad we agree.”
“And the accommodation?”
“Ashford will make enquiries. He cannot promise a particular house before we arrive, but he believes he can arrange somewhere suitable for us to stay initially. Once I have begun the work and become more familiar with the town, we can look for a home of our own.”
Jemimah felt a quiet sense of relief. It was the first time that the future had seemed to take a definite shape. Until now, Penang had been a place they had discussed and imagined. Ashford’s letter gave it a practical foundation.
“Then we have made a beginning,” she said.
“Yes. But there is still more to settle.”
“I know. I do not expect everything to be decided at once.”
Madhav looked at her thoughtfully.
“I sometimes wonder whether I have asked too much of you. You have agreed to leave your family and everything familiar, and yet I cannot tell you precisely what our life there will be like.”
“You have not asked me to pretend that I know,” she replied. “We have spoken honestly about what we are leaving and what we may find. I know that there will be difficulties. But I would rather face them with you than remain here knowing that we have abandoned the possibility of a life together.”
He took her hand briefly, conscious as ever of the possibility that someone might enter.
“I shall do everything I can to make it a good life,” he said.
“I know you will. And I shall do my part.”
She looked at him for a moment before adding, “But I hope you understand that I shall have opinions about our new home.”
“I should be disappointed if you did not.”
“And I shall expect to be consulted about how we arrange it.”
“Of course.”
“Even if I wish to put the books in a different room from the one you have chosen for your accounts?”
“Especially then,” he replied, smiling.
They both laughed, and the brief exchange eased some of the seriousness of their conversation. It was a small glimpse of the ordinary married life they hoped to share: decisions, disagreements, and the pleasure of making a home together.
They did not speak further of it then. There was still correspondence to be exchanged, and the practical arrangements could not be hurried. But something had changed. They were no longer considering an uncertain possibility without any assurance of work or support. A door had opened, although they had not yet passed through it.
Madhav wrote to Ashford again, seeking clarification of the proposed terms and confirming the nature of the responsibilities he would be expected to undertake. He also asked him to continue making enquiries about accommodation. Once the reply arrived, they would be able to decide whether the arrangement was sufficiently secure to proceed.
For Jemimah, the waiting continued to be the hardest part. She had made her choice in her own mind, but she could not yet begin to prepare for departure. There was no date to work towards, no passage to book and no certainty about when they might be able to leave. She had to carry on as before, taking part in the life of the household, visiting Basu Bari and attending the familiar social occasions, while keeping her thoughts to herself.
It was a strange kind of uncertainty. She knew what she wanted, and now there was a reasonable prospect of achieving it, but she could not yet tell when, or precisely how, it would become possible.
One evening, as she sat with her sisters, Frances asked whether she might read another chapter of the book they had been enjoying together. Jemimah agreed, and settled beside her. Georgiana was occupied with her sewing, and Sophia was telling them about a recent visit. For a little while, the familiar domestic scene made it possible to forget the future.
Yet Jemimah found herself listening more carefully than usual, storing away the small details of an evening that might one day become a memory. She did not know when she would have to tell them, or how they would receive the news. She only knew that she would miss them.