quick to pass on to young officers in the regiment.
‘Englishmen serving in India are always starved of suitable female companionship, you understand, Mrs Latham, and when the so-called fishing fleet arrives each year with eager young women who have failed to make a match at home, it can stir bad feelings amongst the officers. Some become despondent, rivalries quickly erupt, and occasionally hearts are broken. It can quite undermine morale in the whole regiment.’
Victoria nodded. ‘Yes, I imagine so.’
‘Fortunately, Maud Pelham was a remarkable judge of character and she had no hesitation about stepping in to save many a young man from rushing into a disastrous alliance with a silly girl who was determined to go home with an engagement ring on her finger.’
‘Really?’ Victoria appreciated that insight into Maud’s line of thought. It made her feel slightly less guilty about any attempt she might make to manipulate Nigel’s choice of a new wife.
Once Lady Phillips and Mrs Moncrief had made their calls, the other British ladies came in twos and threes throughout the next week. Victoria was required to do no more than chat, and Duleep was delighted to be kept busy serving tea and cake to the visitors.
Victoria’s new acquaintances were eager for her to join their cardparties, luncheons, croquet games, china-painting groups and book readings. Did Mrs Latham enjoy shooting?
‘You’ll find some very good game up there in the mountains at this time of the year. We’re setting up a hunting camp next week. Would you like to join us?’
‘Thank you, but no – I don’t ride and I know nothing about guns.’
She heard the news that rehearsals for the Amateur Dramatic Society’s new production of The Scarlet Cloak were going well, and that the new ballroom being built onto the clubhouse at the polo field would soon be completed. A committee had plans well in hand for its inaugural ball on the Queen’s birthday.
‘How we all miss dear Maud at a time like this!’ Victoria often heard that remark. ‘Now there was a lady who knew how to organize a splendid function!’
Victoria’s diary was soon filled with invitations, and though she told Duleep that she could easily walk the short distances to any of these houses in the cantonment, he clearly disapproved of the notion and insisted on rousing Maud’s little old syce to harness the pony trap for each visit.
‘Pelham-memsahib never walked!’
As Victoria watched how her new acquaintances occupied their days, they reminded her of a tribe marooned on an island, snuggled tightly together, hugging their Englishness close, and doing their best to ignore the great tide of Kashmiri humanity swirling around them.
They lived their lives in neat rows of well-tended gardens planted with English flowers, comfortable in bungalows filled with English furnishings, and servants for every domestic task. There was no reason why a memsahib would do a stroke of any kind of work, apart from organizing entertainment and trying to keep in step with everybody else.
Most sons, and some daughters, were sent off to schools in England at the age of seven or eight. ‘Yes, it’s heartbreaking to part with them,Mrs Latham,’ said the regimental doctor’s wife seated beside her at lunch one day, ‘but children are inclined to become far too attached to the Indians if they remain here. Yes, they must—’
‘Shh!’ The magistrate’s wife frowned at the speaker and nodded towards a thin woman who was sitting nearby and staring expectantly out the window. ‘M’dear, please take care not to talk about children within Mrs Buckley’s hearing.’
While the topic of conversation at the table quickly turned to the latest catalogue that had just arrived from England, the doctor’s wife whispered to Victoria that poor Mrs Buckley’s little daughter had been kidnapped several years previously. ‘Not surprisingly, Rose Buckley quite lost her mind with grief, and it’s only lately
‘Englishmen serving in India are always starved of suitable female companionship, you understand, Mrs Latham, and when the so-called fishing fleet arrives each year with eager young women who have failed to make a match at home, it can stir bad feelings amongst the officers. Some become despondent, rivalries quickly erupt, and occasionally hearts are broken. It can quite undermine morale in the whole regiment.’
Victoria nodded. ‘Yes, I imagine so.’
‘Fortunately, Maud Pelham was a remarkable judge of character and she had no hesitation about stepping in to save many a young man from rushing into a disastrous alliance with a silly girl who was determined to go home with an engagement ring on her finger.’
‘Really?’ Victoria appreciated that insight into Maud’s line of thought. It made her feel slightly less guilty about any attempt she might make to manipulate Nigel’s choice of a new wife.
Once Lady Phillips and Mrs Moncrief had made their calls, the other British ladies came in twos and threes throughout the next week. Victoria was required to do no more than chat, and Duleep was delighted to be kept busy serving tea and cake to the visitors.
Victoria’s new acquaintances were eager for her to join their cardparties, luncheons, croquet games, china-painting groups and book readings. Did Mrs Latham enjoy shooting?
‘You’ll find some very good game up there in the mountains at this time of the year. We’re setting up a hunting camp next week. Would you like to join us?’
‘Thank you, but no – I don’t ride and I know nothing about guns.’
She heard the news that rehearsals for the Amateur Dramatic Society’s new production of The Scarlet Cloak were going well, and that the new ballroom being built onto the clubhouse at the polo field would soon be completed. A committee had plans well in hand for its inaugural ball on the Queen’s birthday.
‘How we all miss dear Maud at a time like this!’ Victoria often heard that remark. ‘Now there was a lady who knew how to organize a splendid function!’
Victoria’s diary was soon filled with invitations, and though she told Duleep that she could easily walk the short distances to any of these houses in the cantonment, he clearly disapproved of the notion and insisted on rousing Maud’s little old syce to harness the pony trap for each visit.
‘Pelham-memsahib never walked!’
As Victoria watched how her new acquaintances occupied their days, they reminded her of a tribe marooned on an island, snuggled tightly together, hugging their Englishness close, and doing their best to ignore the great tide of Kashmiri humanity swirling around them.
They lived their lives in neat rows of well-tended gardens planted with English flowers, comfortable in bungalows filled with English furnishings, and servants for every domestic task. There was no reason why a memsahib would do a stroke of any kind of work, apart from organizing entertainment and trying to keep in step with everybody else.
Most sons, and some daughters, were sent off to schools in England at the age of seven or eight. ‘Yes, it’s heartbreaking to part with them,Mrs Latham,’ said the regimental doctor’s wife seated beside her at lunch one day, ‘but children are inclined to become far too attached to the Indians if they remain here. Yes, they must—’
‘Shh!’ The magistrate’s wife frowned at the speaker and nodded towards a thin woman who was sitting nearby and staring expectantly out the window. ‘M’dear, please take care not to talk about children within Mrs Buckley’s hearing.’
While the topic of conversation at the table quickly turned to the latest catalogue that had just arrived from England, the doctor’s wife whispered to Victoria that poor Mrs Buckley’s little daughter had been kidnapped several years previously. ‘Not surprisingly, Rose Buckley quite lost her mind with grief, and it’s only lately
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