March 1809
The days that followed their conversation at Basu Bari passed with an outward appearance of ordinary routine. Jemimah continued to visit the family, and Madhav continued his visits to the Fairfax house. They were careful not to alter their behaviour towards one another, and there was little to suggest that anything had changed between them. Yet each was now conscious of the future in a way that had not been true before. Familiar places and ordinary conversations had acquired a new significance, for they knew that one day they might have to leave them behind.
For Jemimah, this awareness was particularly strong when she was at home. She had grown up in the Fairfax household, and although she had sometimes longed for greater independence, it had always been the centre of her life. She knew the habits of the house, the preferences of her parents, and the small ways in which her sisters fitted into the family. She could scarcely imagine the rooms without them.
Frances, in particular, occupied a place in her thoughts. So much younger than her elder sisters, she had grown up with Jemimah as a constant presence. Jemimah had helped with her early lessons, read to her, answered her endless questions and watched her develop from a small child into a lively and affectionate girl. Frances still sought her company readily, often appearing with a book or some small discovery she wished to share.
One afternoon, Jemimah found her younger sister sitting by the window with a book open upon her lap.
“Jemimah, will you read with me?”
“Certainly. What have you chosen?”
Frances showed her the book, and Jemimah settled beside her. They read for a little while, though Frances was frequently distracted by questions and observations of her own. Jemimah answered them patiently, smiling at the seriousness with which her sister sometimes approached the most ordinary things.
At one point Frances stopped and looked up.
“You will read with me again tomorrow, won’t you?”
“Of course, if you wish it.”
“I always wish it.”
Jemimah smiled and turned back to the page, but the words had become difficult to follow. She was suddenly conscious of how much she would miss these small exchanges. Frances would grow older without her there to see it. She would acquire new interests, make new friends and eventually become a young woman, while Jemimah would be living far away.
She bent her head over the book, determined not to let her feelings show. She could not explain to Frances what she was considering, nor could she bring herself to suggest that their familiar afternoons might soon come to an end.
For the present, she must simply enjoy them.
There had already been changes in the household, though they were small compared with what Jemimah was contemplating. Miss Ellwood’s marriage to Mr Bellamy had meant the departure of someone who had been part of the family for many years.
But her departure had left a gap. A new governess had been engaged to take charge of Frances’s lessons, and although she appeared perfectly capable, she was not Jane. Frances had not quite taken to her. She found the new arrangements more formal, and often complained that her lessons were less interesting than they had been before.
Jemimah did what she could to encourage her sister, reminding her that the new governess needed time to become acquainted with her, just as Frances needed time to become accustomed to her. Yet she understood something of the difficulty. Jane had known the family for so long that her place in the household had become almost indistinguishable from that of a relative. No new arrival could immediately take her place.
The change made Jemimah more conscious of how much a household depended upon the familiar people within it. Even when life continued much as before, the absence of one person could alter its character.
Her thoughts also returned frequently to her parents. Her conversations with them had been painful, but she had not ceased to love them, nor had their refusal altered the affection she felt for either. She understood that their convictions were deeply held, and although she could not accept their judgement, she knew that they had not spoken from indifference to her happiness.
There were moments when she wondered whether she might yet find some way of changing their minds. But she knew that she could not ask them to reconsider every few days, nor could she continue to hope for an answer they had already given. She must learn to live with the knowledge that, if she and Madhav were to be together, they would have to do so without their parents’ blessing.
She was particularly conscious of her father. Edward had always encouraged her education and her curiosity, and she knew that he would be deeply hurt by her departure. His refusal to accept Madhav had not diminished her affection for him. Indeed, it made the thought of leaving more difficult, because she knew that she would be causing pain to someone who had given her so much.
At Basu Bari, Madhav was experiencing something similar. His affection for his family had not diminished, and his responsibilities within the household continued as before. He still spent time with his father discussing business, listened to his mother’s concerns about the household, and enjoyed the company of his brothers and sisters. Yet he now found himself observing the familiar life around him with a heightened awareness.
He knew how much his departure would mean. His father had invested considerable hope in him, not simply as a son but as someone who would eventually take on a greater share of the family’s commercial responsibilities. Haranath would remain to carry much of that burden, but Madhav’s absence would nevertheless be felt. He would be leaving his mother’s household, his sister’s companionship and the younger members of the family who had always looked to him.
He had no intention of pretending that these things were unimportant. He would miss them, and he knew that his decision would cause his parents considerable distress. But he could not see a future in which he remained in Calcutta and abandoned Jemimah.
His thoughts were interrupted one afternoon by Kamala, who had come to Basu Bari with one of her children. She found him sitting with a letter and asked whether he had finished the business he had been attending to.
“Almost,” he replied.
“You have seemed rather occupied lately.”
“There is much to do.”
Kamala regarded him with a little amusement.
“There is always much to do in this house. You are not usually so absorbed that you forget to notice the rest of us.”
He smiled. “I shall try to be more attentive.”
“You had better. Anandamayi has been complaining that you scarcely listen to her when she speaks.”
“I shall make amends.”
Kamala laughed and went inside. Madhav returned to his letter, but her words had reminded him how easily the ordinary expectations of family life could continue while he was preparing for a very different future.
A little later, Anandamayi appeared in search of him. She had been trying to settle a disagreement with one of the younger members of the household and wanted his opinion.
“You are always asking Madhav to decide things,” Kamala called after her.
“He is usually sensible,” Anandamayi replied.
“Usually?” Madhav asked, looking up.
Anandamayi smiled. “I did not say always.”
He laughed and listened to her explanation, giving her the advice she wanted. It was a small, ordinary exchange, but it stayed with him after she had gone. He had always enjoyed being the person his younger sister turned to, and he wondered how often she would do so when he was no longer there.
He returned to his letter, though Kamala’s words had reminded him how much he valued these ordinary moments with his family. He was determined to continue taking part in their daily lives, just as he always had, and not allow his private concerns to alter the way he treated them.
He and Jemimah continued to meet when they could. Their conversations were sometimes practical, sometimes affectionate, and sometimes simply about the ordinary events of the day. They spoke of their families, of the people they had seen, and of the small incidents that might once have seemed too unimportant to mention. Yet now those details seemed to matter more. They were part of the lives they still shared, and neither wished to hurry past them.
They had heard nothing definite from Ashford, but Madhav remained hopeful.
A few days later, Jemimah visited Basu Bari. The household was busy, and she spent some time with Annapurna and Kamala before joining Anandamayi in the garden. Madhav was occupied with his father, but eventually came out to the veranda where Jemimah was sitting.
He did not immediately approach her. Instead, he paused to speak with Kamala about a matter concerning the family, and only when she had gone inside did he take the opportunity to sit beside Jemimah.
“How have you been?” he asked.
“Very well. And you?”
“Busy, as usual.”
She looked at him with a questioning expression.
“Have you heard anything further from Mr Ashford?”
“I have. I received a reply to my last letter, and things are looking promising.”
Jemimah felt a small surge of hope.
“Does he think he may be able to employ you?”
“He appears willing to consider it seriously. He has asked me for some further information about the work I have undertaken here, and there are a few details concerning the nature of the arrangement that I still need to settle.”
“Does that mean we may begin to make more definite plans?”
“Not quite yet. I do not want to give you an assurance before I have one myself. But I am more hopeful than I was.”
She nodded. “That is encouraging.”
“I shall need to write to him again, and there may be some further correspondence before everything is settled. But I think we are moving in the right direction.”
“I am glad. I have been thinking about it often.”
“So have I. I know that waiting will not be easy, but we must not allow ourselves to be hurried into an arrangement that is uncertain.”
“No. I would rather wait until we know what we are doing.”
He smiled. “That is what I hoped you would say.”
They were interrupted by Anandamayi, who appeared at the veranda entrance with a question for Jemimah. She had been looking for her and wanted her opinion about something she and Kamala had been discussing.
Jemimah rose, and Madhav returned to the matter he had been considering before coming outside. Their conversation had lasted only a few minutes, but it had been enough to reassure her that their plans were progressing.
For the rest of the afternoon, Jemimah gave herself over to the familiar company of the Basu family. She listened to Anandamayi, talked with Kamala and spent some time with Annapurna. She was conscious, however, of how much she valued these relationships, and of how difficult it would be to leave them.
Annapurna asked after her family and whether Frances was keeping well. Jemimah told her that Frances was growing quickly and that she was still adjusting to the new governess. Annapurna listened with interest, and remarked that a child often needed time to become comfortable with someone new. Jemimah thought of Jane and agreed. Some people, she reflected, could not be replaced simply by finding someone to perform the same duties.
As she sat with Annapurna, she was reminded that leaving Calcutta would mean more than leaving a place. She would be leaving people whose affection she had come to value, and a household in which she had gradually found a welcome.
Later, as she travelled home, she thought again of Penang. It was still unfamiliar to her, and much remained uncertain. But she was beginning to imagine a home there, a life in which she and Madhav could make their own decisions and build something together.
The prospect did not lessen the sadness of leaving. It simply made the sacrifice seem possible.
For now, there was nothing more she could do. Madhav would continue his correspondence with Mr Ashford, and she would wait until he knew more. In the meantime, she must carry on as she always had, loving the people around her and allowing them no reason to suspect that her future might soon lie far beyond Calcutta.