Holder of the World - Bharati Mukherjee [45]
“Chief Factor, pardon my ignorance if I find that a most curious way to reward their accomplishments,” said Hannah. “I think they might prove their disloyalty first.”
“They require but one opportunity. Thereafter, it is quite too late.” He bowed and offered up his grotesque little smile. “A friendly warning only, madam.”
“My wife is a tenderhearted woman,” said Gabriel Legge.
“The Company is not in want of tenderheartedness,” said the Chief Factor. “An iron will and a heart of flint, that’s what survives on the Coromandel.”
Hannah noticed a young woman on the upper balcony, busying herself with brass water pots now that her presence had been detected. She was wrapped in what appeared to be a mustard-colored winding-sheet. Her hair was gathered in one long, thick braid that nearly brushed the floor.
In Brookfield, in Stepney and Salem, a house was a barricade to stop encroachment. Outdoors was the prowling ground for Satan and his companions; indoors was furnished, tamed and therefore safe. But the house that she was to live in, like all houses in Fort St. Sebastian, was built to entice crystal-bright tropical starlight, spume-scented breeze, bugs, birds and butterflies through its huge barred windows. There were terraces shiny as marble, balconies made of hardy woods, a flat roof for evening walks—ground level at night being considered unsafe—and turreted parapets. Behind the main house were the gardens, kitchen sheds, servants’ sheds and stables.
Hannah, the new tenant, shuddered. European employers died on duty, or they sailed back home to savor what they had looted. The houses and the servants endured, unless pruned back by prudent management, accommodating to the newest occupants and enlarging their knowledge of human folly and wickedness. She had to admit there was a certain crude wisdom in starting with a clean slate of servants.
Hedges’ residence came with a dozen servants, among them the cook, the maid, the groom and valet and the two peons who had served him half a decade. His furniture was scattered through every room; elaborate pieces, some of which had been brought over from England on East Indiamen, others copied in local woods by adventurous Coromandel cabinetmakers.
Cephus Prynne led Hannah on an inspection tour of the premises while Gabriel supervised the unloading of their baggage. She felt the Chief Factor’s hand, a little too familiarly, on her arm, guiding her up the dark stairwell. Prynne’s voice and bearing suggested he was handing over Henry Hedges’ kingdom and subjects to reign over rather than a rented home to maintain. She concentrated on Hedges’ furniture so she would not worry about the impression she was making on the servant women with their heavy-lidded, judgmental eyes.
The young serving girl with the long braid, whom Prynne indicated was new to the premises, hence untainted by too long a service to Hedges, was named Bhagmati. “Means ‘Gift of God’ or some such,” he muttered. “Hindu. Understands some English. Attends Scripture class. Probably honest, so far as she understands the concept.”
“You are saying I may retain her, then, Chief Factor?”
“Please, dear lady. Cephus.” He laid a cold, reassuring hand over hers. “My intentions are the noblest. If I have experience to share, you may believe those experiences were paid for in hard and bitter currency.”
There were carved rectangular center tables veneered with maple wood and parcel gilt, their tops inlaid with silver strap-work, and gilt-framed mirrors carved with putti, acanthus leaves and floral sprays; pairs of matching cabinets veneered in oyster laburnum and mounted on spiral supports; black japanned chairs and white japanned chests; scriptores veneered with arabesque marquetry and folding tops; walnut armchairs and daybeds with carved rails and cane seats and embossed silver scones and footed silver candlesticks.
“The unfortunate Hedges,” Cephus Prynne began. “He did not know where to stop.”
“In what manner, Chief Factor?”
“Men too long separated from their home country, from,