9 September 1809
Jemimah had known for some time that the day would come when she must tell Georgiana what she and Madhav had decided. She had postponed the conversation while their arrangements remained uncertain, unwilling to involve her sister in a plan which might yet prove impossible. Now, however, there could be no further delay. Madhav’s employment arrangements had been settled, their passage aboard the Meridian was confirmed, and the date of departure had been fixed.
Jemimah knew that Georgiana would be hurt by the knowledge that she had kept so much from her. They had always been close, and she had never before deliberately excluded her sister from something of such importance. But she had believed it necessary. Had the arrangements failed, Georgiana would have been left carrying a secret and worrying about a future which might never have materialised. More importantly, Jemimah had not wanted her to be drawn into anything which could bring her into conflict with their parents.
She chose a quiet afternoon when they could be alone together. Sophia was out visiting a friend, Frances was occupied with her lessons, Charlotte had retired to her room, and Edward was still at his office.
Georgiana was sitting near the window, working at some embroidery, when Jemimah came in.
“Georgiana, may I speak to you for a little while?”
Her sister looked up.
“Of course. Is something the matter?”
“Yes. Something rather important.”
Georgiana put down her work. There was something in Jemimah’s manner which made her attentive.
“Is it Madhav?”
Jemimah sat opposite her.
“Yes. It is about Madhav, and about what we have decided to do.”
Georgiana waited, watching her sister’s face.
“I thought you had decided that there was no possibility of your being together,” she said at last. “After what Papa and Mama said, and what Mr Basu’s family had told him, I thought the matter was settled.”
“I know you did. And I allowed you to think so.”
“Then what has happened?”
“Nothing has changed about our families’ feelings. Neither can accept our marriage. But Madhav and I have continued to consider whether there might be another way for us to make a life together.”
Georgiana’s expression altered.
“You mean you have not given him up?”
“No.”
Jemimah paused. She wanted Georgiana to understand that what she was about to say had not been decided in haste.
“We have made arrangements to leave Calcutta together.”
For a moment Georgiana said nothing.
“Leave Calcutta?” she repeated.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“On the fifteenth of September. The Meridian is expected to sail that morning.”
Georgiana stared at her.
“You mean you are going with him?”
“Yes. We shall travel together as Mr and Mrs Basu.”
Her sister looked at her in astonishment and then, slowly, her expression changed to one of hurt.
“Why did you not tell me sooner?”
Jemimah had known this would be the hardest part.
“We did not have a definite plan. We had to make enquiries about employment, accommodation and passage. There were letters to be written and answers to wait for. Until everything was settled, I did not want to involve you in something which might never happen.”
“You might at least have trusted me.”
“I do trust you. That is why I am telling you now.”
“But you have been making arrangements for months, and all this time I thought you had accepted that there was nothing more to be done.”
“I wanted you to believe that while the arrangements were uncertain. You might have been questioned, or asked to explain something you did not really know. I did not want to place that burden upon you.”
Georgiana rose and walked towards the window. For a moment she stood looking out into the garden, her hands clasped before her. Jemimah waited. She knew that an explanation would not immediately remove the hurt.
At last Georgiana turned.
“You might have told me that you were still considering it. I would have understood that you could not yet be certain.”
“Perhaps I should have. But I was afraid you would worry, and I knew how difficult it would be for you to keep such a secret while we were waiting for answers.”
“I should have managed.”
“I know you would have tried. But I did not want to put you in that position unnecessarily.”
Georgiana returned to her chair.
“And now everything is settled?”
“As far as we can make it so. Madhav has secured employment, and we have our passage. There are still many things we shall have to arrange when we arrive, but we have enough to begin.”
“Where are you going?”
Jemimah looked down briefly before answering.
“I am afraid I cannot tell you that, Georgiana.”
Her sister stared at her.
“You cannot tell me?”
“I would rather you did not know our destination. If Papa or anyone else questions you, you will be able to say honestly that you do not know where we have gone.”
“But you are asking me to help you leave, while refusing to tell me where you are going?”
“I know how that must sound. But I am not asking you to make the decision for me, or to take responsibility for it. Madhav and I have made our choice. I only hope you will help me with a few practical matters.”
Georgiana was silent for a moment.
“I cannot pretend that I am happy about it, Jemimah. I shall miss you terribly, and I cannot imagine what Mama and Papa will say when they discover you have gone. But I know how much you care for him, and I know that you have not made this decision lightly.”
Jemimah reached across and took her hand.
“I shall miss you too. More than I can tell you. I do not want you to think that I am leaving because I love you or the family any less.”
“I don’t think that. But it will be very difficult for Frances. She adores you.”
“I know. And Sophia will be hurt too. I wish there were some way of explaining it to them, but there isn’t. Frances is too young to understand, and I do not want either of them to know until we have gone.”
“Will you write?”
“As soon as we are settled. I have spoken to Jane, and she has agreed to receive my first letters and pass them on to you. You can write to her here, and she will forward your letters to me. In my first letter, I shall include an address where you may write to us directly.”
“Jane knows?”
“Yes. I thought she was the person I could trust. She understands that the matter must remain private.”
Georgiana nodded. She seemed relieved that Jemimah had found a way for them to continue corresponding, though the arrangement made the departure seem even more real.
“Then I shall be able to hear from you?”
“Yes. I promise I shall write.”
There was another silence before Jemimah explained the practical help she needed.
“My travelling case must be taken out of the house before we leave. I cannot carry it myself without attracting attention, and I do not want it to be seen being removed. Would you be willing to take it for me on the fourteenth?”
Georgiana looked at her.
“I can do that. Where shall I take it?”
“To the keeper near Tank Square whom Madhav has found. He will keep it safely until we collect it on the morning of the fifteenth. Madhav will arrange for a carriage to meet us nearby.”
“And the letter to Mama and Papa?”
“That is the other matter I wished to discuss. I shall write it shortly before we leave. I want to explain my decision and make it clear that I have gone of my own free will. I shall give it to you, sealed, and ask you to keep it until the Meridian has sailed.”
“And how shall I know when that has happened?”
“Could you go down towards the riverfront that morning? You know the name of the ship, and you could watch for her departure. I do not want the letter delivered while there is still any possibility of our being stopped.”
Georgiana looked thoughtful.
“I could do that. I shall wait until I have seen her cast off and make her way downstream, and then I shall return and give Papa your letter.”
“Thank you. I know it will be difficult, particularly when you have to face Mama and Papa afterwards.”
“I shall do it, Jemimah. You need not worry about the letter.”
“I shall make it quite clear that this is my decision and Madhav’s. You have not persuaded me, nor have you made the arrangements. I do not want you to suffer for what I have chosen.”
Georgiana looked down at their joined hands.
“Especially me?”
“Especially you. I could not bear for Papa to think that you had helped me against his wishes, or that you had encouraged me to leave.”
“I cannot promise that Papa will understand,” Georgiana said quietly, “but I shall make certain he receives your letter.”
Jemimah felt a wave of gratitude.
“Thank you. I know I am asking a great deal.”
“You are asking me to help you leave, and I cannot say that I find it easy. But I would rather help you go safely than have you risk being discovered or stopped.”
Jemimah squeezed her sister’s hand.
“I wish there were another way.”
“So do I.”
For a little while neither spoke. They both knew that the conversation had brought them to a point from which there could be no easy return.
At last Georgiana asked, “When will you tell the others?”
“I shall not tell them before we leave. I cannot. I want to spend these remaining days with them as normally as I can. I do not want Frances to be frightened or Sophia to be drawn into something she cannot understand.”
“And Mama and Papa?”
“They will know when you give them my letter. I shall explain that I have tried to speak to them, and that I know they will not agree with my decision. But I cannot remain here and give up Madhav. I must take responsibility for that.”
Georgiana shook her head gently.
“I cannot imagine Mama’s distress.”
“Nor can I. It is one of the things I find hardest to bear. I know how much I shall hurt them.”
“Do you think Papa will understand, even a little?”
“I hope that, in time, he may understand that I have not acted thoughtlessly. I do not expect him to approve, but I want him to know that I have considered what I am doing.”
Georgiana looked at her sister for a long moment.
“I hope you will be happy, Jemimah. I truly do. I only wish you did not have to leave us to find it.”
Jemimah’s eyes filled with tears.
“So do I.”
They embraced, holding one another for longer than they usually would. Jemimah knew that this was not a final farewell, but it was the beginning of one. Georgiana would have to carry the knowledge of what was to happen, and the burden of helping her sister leave without the rest of the family knowing.
When they drew apart, Georgiana wiped her eyes.
“I shall make the arrangements for the case,” she said. “And I shall keep your letter safe until the time comes.”
“Thank you.”
“But you must promise me one thing.”
“What is it?”
“You must write as soon as you can. I shall not be content to wait months without knowing that you are safe.”
“I promise.”
Georgiana picked up her embroidery, though she made little progress with it. Jemimah remained with her for a while longer, speaking of ordinary things, and when they heard Frances approaching, the conversation turned naturally to her lessons.
Nothing in the household had changed. The familiar rooms, the sounds of servants moving through the corridors, the calls from the garden and the ordinary rhythm of the afternoon continued as before.
But Georgiana now knew what was coming. On the morning of 15 September, she would go down towards the riverfront and wait for the Meridian. She would watch until the ship had cast off and begun her journey down the Hooghly. Only then would she return to the Fairfax house and deliver Jemimah’s letter to their parents.
Her sister would never know that she had watched her leave.
And Georgiana, who had shared so much of Jemimah’s life, would be the one left behind to say goodbye in silence.