10-13 September 1809
In the days that followed her conversation with Georgiana, Jemimah found herself increasingly conscious of the time that remained to her in Calcutta.
There were still several days before the Meridian was due to sail, and she had no wish to spend them in a state of constant apprehension. She had decided that she would continue as normally as possible, taking part in family life and making the most of the time she had left with those she loved.
Yet ordinary things had acquired a different significance. A conversation with her mother, an afternoon spent with Frances, or the familiar sound of her father’s voice in the adjoining room could bring home to her the knowledge that she would soon be gone.
She was particularly conscious of Frances. Her youngest sister was still only a child, and although she was growing in confidence and beginning to take a greater interest in the world around her, she remained very much attached to Jemimah.
Jemimah tried to spend as much time with her as she could, joining her in the familiar activities they had shared over the years. Sometimes they read together, sometimes they talked about a story Frances had been enjoying, and sometimes they simply sat in one another’s company. Jemimah found herself noticing little things which she might previously have taken for granted: the way Frances became absorbed in a book, the questions she asked, and the pleasure she took in having her elder sister’s attention.
She remembered a conversation they had shared some weeks earlier. Frances had asked whether Jemimah would read with her again the following day.
“Of course, if you wish it,” Jemimah had replied.
“I always wish it,” Frances had said, with such simple certainty that Jemimah had laughed and promised to come.
The memory returned to her now with a tenderness that was almost painful. Frances had no idea how soon those ordinary afternoons would become memories. Jemimah could not bring herself to explain. Her sister was too young to understand the circumstances, and to tell her would only cause distress without changing anything. She could only hope that, when the time came, Frances would know that she had not been forgotten.
Her time with her parents was no easier.
Jemimah and her mother continued to speak of ordinary family matters. There were occasions when Jemimah was tempted to tell her everything, if only to spare her the shock of discovering that her eldest daughter had gone. But she knew that doing so would risk the whole plan, and she had already made her decision.
She tried to be particularly attentive to her mother, listening to her concerns and helping with small household arrangements. Charlotte was pleased by this, though she sometimes wondered whether Jemimah had become unusually thoughtful.
On one occasion, Charlotte remarked that she had been very helpful of late.
“I hope you are not overburdening yourself,” she said. “There is no need for you to take everything upon your shoulders.”
“I am quite well, Mama. I only thought I might be of some assistance.”
Her mother smiled.
“It is kind of you. I sometimes think you forget that you are not yet responsible for an entire household.”
Jemimah smiled in return, but the words stayed with her. She wondered what her mother would think if she knew how soon Jemimah would be responsible for making a home of her own, far from the family she had always known.
Her father, too, continued with his usual work and responsibilities. Jemimah found herself observing him more closely: the familiar manner in which he read his correspondence, the way he considered a problem before speaking, and the quiet affection he showed his daughters, even when he was occupied with other matters.
She knew that he would be deeply hurt by her departure. He had liked and respected Madhav, and she sometimes wondered whether he might have accepted him had circumstances been different. But she also knew that his affection for Madhav could not overcome the convictions which prevented him from accepting their marriage.
She did not blame him for loving her as he did, but she could not allow his disappointment to determine the course of her life.
At Basu Bari, Madhav was also preparing himself for the separation, though he had to do so without allowing his family to suspect what he intended.
He continued to attend to his usual responsibilities in the business, speaking with his father about ordinary matters and ensuring that nothing in his conduct suggested that he was planning to leave Calcutta. There were practical arrangements to be made, but these were dealt with quietly and away from the household. Raghunath remained unaware of his son’s intentions.
Annapurna was as affectionate towards Madhav as she had always been. He found it increasingly difficult to spend time with her without thinking of how much he would miss her, and of the pain she would feel if she knew what he was planning. Yet he could not bring himself to tell her. He knew that, once he did, there would be questions and distress for which he was not yet ready.
Kamala had always been close to her brother, and Madhav valued their easy companionship. He was careful not to allow his private concerns to alter their usual conversations. There were moments when he was tempted to confide in her, but he knew that doing so would place an unfair burden upon her and might put their plans at risk. For the present, he had to keep his intentions to himself.
As the day of departure approached, the ordinary routines of Basu Bari continued almost unchanged. To his family, Madhav was still the son and brother they had always known. Only he understood how soon that would change.
Jemimah and Madhav continued to see one another whenever they could, although their conversations were increasingly concerned with the final practical details. They discussed the passage, the work awaiting Madhav in Penang, and the arrangements which would have to be made when they arrived. There were still uncertainties, but they had learned to distinguish between what could be prepared in advance and what would have to be faced when it came.
The thought of the journey was never far from Jemimah’s mind. Although the practical arrangements had been made, she found herself increasingly conscious of the significance of the coming days. She had lived in the Fairfax household all her life, and soon she would leave it without knowing when, or whether, she would see it again. There was little more she could do now except wait for the appointed morning and try to carry out her usual duties as naturally as possible.
The letter to Edward and Charlotte remained unwritten. Jemimah had considered its contents many times, but she intended to write it only the day before her departure. She wanted to be certain that she could express herself calmly and that the letter would not be discovered before she and Madhav were safely away.
There was still much to consider, but the arrangements were now sufficiently settled that neither Jemimah nor Madhav needed to spend every meeting discussing them. They could sometimes simply sit together, speak of the life they hoped to make, and allow themselves a little time without practical concerns.
As the days passed, the date of their departure came steadily nearer. Jemimah tried not to count them, but she could not help noticing how few remained. There were moments when she felt almost detached from the ordinary life around her, as though she were already looking back upon it. At other times she was able to forget what was coming and take pleasure in the familiar rhythm of the household.
She was careful not to make her attentions seem unusual. She did not want her mother to wonder at them, nor did she want Frances to ask why Jemimah had become so solemn. She listened, read, and joined in conversation as she always had. Yet she found herself storing away small impressions: the afternoon light in the sitting room, the sound of Sophia laughing, the particular way her father folded a letter before setting it aside.
Madhav, too, was conscious of the approaching separation from everything he had known. When they met, he sometimes spoke of the practical work that awaited him, but more often they allowed themselves to talk about the home they hoped to establish and the ordinary life they wished to build. Neither pretended that the future would be without difficulty. It was enough that they would face it together.
By the evening of the thirteenth, Jemimah knew that the following day would be their last full day in the family home. Georgiana would take the travelling case away, and Jemimah would write the letter which her sister had promised to deliver. There would be no more postponement.
She felt the familiar mixture of apprehension and resolve. She was not looking forward to the pain of saying goodbye, but she knew that the time for hesitation had passed.
That night she lay awake for a while, listening to the quiet sounds of the house. Tomorrow she would write to her parents. Tomorrow the case would be taken away. The day after that, she and Madhav would leave Calcutta.
She turned onto her side and tried to rest. The life she had known was not yet behind her, but she could feel its ending drawing close.