1800-1805
The Hooghly was never far from the life of the city. This great river, one of the main branches of the Ganges, flowed past Calcutta on its journey towards the Bay of Bengal. From the riverfront came the sounds of loading and unloading, the calls of boatmen, the creaking of timber and the occasional sharp command of a ship’s officer. The river was crowded with shipping. Merchant vessels lay at anchor alongside smaller craft, while boats carrying goods and passengers moved constantly between the ships and the busy riverfront.
To Jemimah, it was one of the most fascinating sights in Bengal. She had been accustomed to the ordered quiet of Englishcombe, where the movement of the seasons was marked by the church bells, the arrival of a carrier or the occasional passing carriage. Calcutta seemed to move to a different rhythm altogether. Here, news, people and merchandise arrived from every direction, and the river appeared to carry the life of the city onwards towards places she had never imagined visiting.
Her father, who had little patience with idleness but considerable tolerance for curiosity, sometimes allowed her to accompany him on short journeys connected with his work. She would sit beside him in the carriage, watching the streets pass, and ask questions which he could not always answer. When he was unable to explain something, he would occasionally promise to make enquiries. More often, he would tell her that she must learn to distinguish between what she had seen and what she merely supposed.
It was sound advice, though Jemimah did not always enjoy receiving it.
Jane Ellwood was rather more indulgent. Although she had come to Bengal with the Fairfax family and was still learning about the country herself, she had already begun to understand that the first impressions of a newcomer were often unreliable. She encouraged Jemimah to look again before forming an opinion, and to remember that customs which seemed strange at first might have their own history and purpose.
Jane did not pretend to be an authority on everything. Indeed, one of her most useful habits was to admit when she did not know.
“I think,” she remarked one afternoon, after Jemimah had asked a particularly complicated question about a ceremony she had witnessed, “that it is better to say that one does not understand something than to explain it incorrectly.”
Jemimah laughed.
“That would make conversation very difficult, Miss Ellwood. You would have to say it rather often.”
“Possibly. But I should hope to say it less often as the years pass.”
It was a lesson Jemimah remembered.
By now the Fairfax household had settled into a recognisable routine. The heat governed much of the day. Mornings began early, when the air was still tolerable and there were letters to be written, lessons to be completed and household matters to be attended to. The middle hours were quieter. Shutters were drawn against the strongest sunlight, and the household seemed to retreat indoors until the afternoon brought some relief.
There was, however, no shortage of activity. Servants came and went, messages arrived, visitors called, and her mother’s correspondence with other British families kept a steady stream of social engagements before them. Edward’s work brought him into contact with men of different backgrounds and occupations, and Charlotte, who understood the importance of maintaining good connections, was rarely without some invitation or obligation to consider.
The girls, too, were settling into their different routines. Georgiana, now approaching womanhood, was becoming increasingly involved in the social life of the family. Sophia was still occupied with her lessons and the accomplishments expected of a young lady, while Frances, so much younger than her sisters, remained largely within the nursery and schoolroom world. Jemimah enjoyed their company, although she was increasingly conscious that her own interests were beginning to take her beyond the concerns of childhood.
The British community was not enormous, but it was varied. Company officials, military officers, merchants and their families formed overlapping circles of acquaintance. People met at dinners, at private musical evenings, at dances and assemblies, and through the ordinary business of visiting. Some friendships were close; others were maintained because it was expected that one should call upon a particular family or return an invitation.
Charlotte was well suited to this world. She was sociable without being indiscreet, and she took care that her daughters were properly introduced and suitably occupied. She believed that a young woman’s manners and conduct were noticed, and that the impressions she made could influence her future. Jemimah sometimes found this tiresome, but she was not unhappy in society. She enjoyed conversation, music and the opportunity to meet people whose lives differed from her own.
Among the families with whom the Fairfaxes became particularly friendly were the Pritchards.
William Pritchard was a senior Company servant, a steady and practical man whose work had brought him to Calcutta some years earlier. His wife Elizabeth was one of Charlotte’s most frequent companions. She was warm-hearted, lively and observant, and possessed the useful ability to make a gathering comfortable without appearing to direct it. The two women had enough in common to enjoy one another’s company, though Elizabeth was rather less concerned than Charlotte with the finer points of social propriety.
Their eldest son, James, was already old enough to be thinking seriously about his future in the Company’s service. He was a thoughtful young man, not particularly handsome or striking, but well-mannered and intelligent. He preferred conversation to display and had a habit of listening carefully before offering an opinion. Jemimah found him agreeable, particularly because he did not seem to regard her questions as an inconvenience.
The Pritchards’ daughter, Catherine, was closer in age to Sophia. She was friendly and good-natured, with a lively interest in the small happenings of the community. The youngest, William, was still at an age when he could be forgiven for finding most adult conversation tedious.
The girls soon became regular companions. Catherine and Sophia discovered that they enjoyed one another’s company, while Jemimah and Elizabeth often found themselves talking long after the younger people had gone off to amuse themselves.
The Lascelles family belonged to a rather different circle. Colonel Arthur Lascelles was an army officer, and his household was more closely connected with military society. His wife Margaret was a gracious hostess, accustomed to receiving visitors and arranging entertainments. Their eldest son, Henry, was handsome and confident, with an easy manner which made him popular at dances and social gatherings. He was a capable horseman and enjoyed the outdoor life available to young officers. His sister Mary was quieter, while Frederick, the youngest, was still very much under the influence of his elder brother.
Jemimah liked the Lascelles children, although she sometimes found Henry a little too pleased with himself. He was not unkind, and his good humour was genuine, but he had a confidence which occasionally made him seem unaware that other people might have opinions quite as interesting as his own.
The Wetherbys completed much of the circle in which the Fairfaxes moved. Richard Wetherby was an independent merchant rather than a Company servant. His business gave him a wider acquaintance among the commercial community, and he was accustomed to dealing with people whose interests did not necessarily coincide with those of the Company’s administration. His wife Anne was a lively and intelligent woman, and their children reflected something of the varied world in which they had grown up.
Their son Thomas was practical and observant, already involved in his father’s business. He had little patience for empty talk and seemed to take an interest in the commercial life of Calcutta quite naturally. His sister Louisa, by contrast, was full of questions and enthusiasms. She was curious about almost everything and could make a conversation lively even when the subject was no more remarkable than the latest arrival of a ship.
These families were not simply names on an invitation list. They became part of the ordinary fabric of Jemimah’s life.
There were afternoons when the Pritchards called, bringing news of some engagement or family difficulty. There were dinners at the Lascelles’ house, where Colonel Lascelles’s stories of military life were sometimes more entertaining than the conversation intended to follow them. The Wetherbys were particularly good company when Richard had returned from a journey or had some new commercial venture to describe.
At such gatherings, Jemimah was rarely content to remain a silent observer. She listened, questioned and sometimes disagreed. She had learned that the safest way to encourage a conversation was to ask someone about something they knew well, and she was genuinely interested in the answers.
She was also becoming increasingly aware that the world beyond the British community was not a distant curiosity but the world in which she was living. The people who worked in the houses, the merchants who supplied them, the boatmen on the river and the craftsmen whose work could be seen throughout the city were not merely part of the scenery. They had their own families, customs and concerns, even if Jemimah knew comparatively little about them.
Jane Ellwood encouraged her to notice this. She did not lecture, nor did she attempt to make Jemimah feel guilty about the privileges of her position. She simply reminded her, when the opportunity arose, that there was always more to a place than the portion one happened to inhabit.
As the years passed, Jemimah’s position in society became more assured. She was no longer simply one of the Fairfax girls, accompanying her mother on visits. She was a young woman in her own right, expected to take part in conversation, to receive and return calls, and to conduct herself with the ease appropriate to her age and circumstances.
She enjoyed much of it. She liked music and dancing, and she was not averse to admiration. She could laugh readily, and there were evenings when she returned home pleasantly tired from dancing, still recalling some amusing remark or unexpected turn in conversation.
Her mother was pleased to see her growing confidence. Charlotte had always hoped that Jemimah would make a good impression, and she was conscious that the young woman was now approaching an age when suitable acquaintances might become more significant.
James Pritchard, in particular, was a young man whose prospects she regarded favourably. His family was respectable, his character appeared sound, and his career in the Company seemed likely to be a promising one. Elizabeth, too, had occasionally remarked that James and Jemimah appeared to enjoy one another’s company.
Neither woman pressed the matter. There was no understanding between the families, nor any formal suggestion of an engagement. But Charlotte was not displeased when James sought Jemimah out at a gathering, and she noticed when he made a point of speaking with her.
Jemimah, for her part, liked James. She respected his intelligence and found his conversation agreeable. She did not, however, think of him in the way her mother might have hoped. He was a friend, and a good one, but she felt no particular inclination to imagine a future with him.
She had not yet begun to think seriously about marriage. There was so much to see and learn, and Calcutta continued to offer her new experiences. She was interested in the people around her, in the history of the country and in the complicated relationship between the British and the society in which they had established themselves.
Her father sometimes cautioned her against becoming too absorbed in matters which were not properly her concern. Yet he had also come to recognise that her curiosity was part of her character, and that attempts to suppress it were unlikely to succeed.
By the beginning of 1805, Jemimah was twenty-one. She had spent several years in Bengal, and the girl who had first arrived from Somerset with a mixture of excitement and apprehension had become a confident young woman. She knew the rhythms of the household, the expectations of the British community and many of the familiar faces who made up her social world.
She had friends, interests and a life which, for all its restrictions, was full and agreeable. She had no reason to imagine that the course of that life was about to change.
It was in this settled period, during an ordinary season of dinners and visits, that she was first properly introduced to Madhav Chandra Basu.
Their meeting would not, at first, seem remarkable to anyone else in the room.