Chapter 10

One would think a month of sea voyage would accustom one with the perils of vomit, especially when the person had their head permanently hidden in the horror that was indoor plumbing. But in Eleanor's case, two weeks only proved that her sickness and disgust for the sea would never fade as it seemed to have only heightened during the short time span.

When the brilliant azure sea - which had previously stretched on for miles and miles without end - began to end and the sight of exotic buildings with a smattering of western ones came into view, Eleanor's stomach lurched - this time, not due to sea sickness but because of anticipation. For only a few miles away, out of the smoke hanging in the air, materialised the city of Bombay.

Eleanor, along with Nathan, stood at the railing, watching with bated breath as the bustling port of Bombay came to view, cargo ships docked at the harbour and workers - who looked vaguely Indian from the distance - hurrying about, loading and unloading crates or, she assumed.

'It's beautiful,' she murmured under her breath, fascinated, as the ship neared the harbour, it's belly breaking the waves in beautiful, bellowing strokes.

Nathan, who must have heard her, gently raised her hand which he had clasped in his big ones and placed a soft kiss on the back of it. 'Welcome to India, love.'

Her heart stopped beating for a second as she processed the words. India. Her birthplace. Her home? No, it was not her home; home was London. Home was her family estate in Salford. India was the place she had been born in. It could never truly be home to her.

When the ship started groaning and creaking before finally halting in front of the crowded port, Eleanor's eyes fully caught the large expanse that was the port of Bombay. Simply put, it was...busy. A number of workers rushed back and forth, making arrangements for the ship to dock in the harbour safely. Quite a few also lumbered large wooden crates and boxes back and forth under the blazing sun whose harsh rays shone down bright upon them.

However, what struck Eleanor the most was the fact that every single one of the workers she saw were Indians. Loose, drab fabric was wrapped around their skinny torsos and there were no shirts covering their bare dark chests which, on inspection, spoke volumes of the number of days they had spent toiling under the sun. They were undoubtedly peasants from the rural part of Bombay. There were only a handful of British officers who walked around, supervising, their hawk-like eyes scrutinising the workers, intent on catching someone out of place.

Nathan picked up on noticed Eleanor's discomfort. 'Are you alright?' he asked, concern laced in his voice. 'You seem dreadfully uneasy.' By now, the workers on the harbour were positioning a plank on the ship's entrance for the passengers to descend.

Eleanor reverted her gaze from the workers to her husband whose face was now marred with an ugly frown. 'It is just that...' she began, unable to complete her sentence. How do you explain to him that she felt sorry for the workers?

The frown deepened and Nathan pressed further. 'What? What is it?'

'Well...the workers seem to be mistreated,' she said, trying to gouge out a reaction from him. She had expected a lot of things from him - disgust, hatred, loathing - after all, he was British. But what she was not prepared for was a look of understanding and agreement.

'I agree,' he said, nodding, before looking towards the stream of passengers who were exiting the ship and motioning for Eleanor to follow. 'They are being highly mistreated and it is not right.'

Eleanor linked her arm with Nathan's as they descended the wooden plank, a steady stream of people milling around them. 'I do not understand,' she stated, her gaze reverting back to the workers. 'You said you agreed. Or did I not hear you right?'

'You heard me right,' she heard Nathan say from beside her. A British officer had cornered one of the peasants - an old man who looked so thin, she was sure he would fly away had it not been for the heavy weight of the officer's heated gaze that had him pinned down - and had forced him to his knees. A whip rested in the officer's hands and Eleanor quickly averted her gaze to Nathan, too frightened to see what happened next, although she knew with unbridled certainty what was going to ensue.

'You said you agreed that they were being mistreated,' she repeated, confusion finding abode in her churning stomach.

'Indeed I did,' Nathan said. 'Why, did you think I was soulless? Did you think I would consider them beneath me?' He arched an eyebrow, staring her down.

Eleanor flushed. 'Of course not! I do not think so lowly of you. I just...did not think you would think so highly of them either.'

'Because I'm British? Because my countrymen happen to be tyrants who rule over this country with an iron fist? Did you honestly think I was, indeed, one of them? I confess myself deeply hurt. You should know by now that I do not think like the rest of my brethren.'

Eleanor was shocked by the revelation. Of course! Why would she even doubt him? Did he not marry her, an Indian by birth? Did he not defend her when his childhood friend - a friend he had known far longer than he had her - had so ruthlessly shamed her? She ought to be ashamed at even thinking of it. To think she voiced out her thoughts!

'You're right, Nathan,' she said, attempting to salvage the situation and wipe away the genuine hurt that had etched itself onto his face. They were standing on the rocky ground of the harbour, face to face, and she took his hands in hers. 'You have never given me cause to think of you as such and I apologise for thinking so.'

The hurt lessened although it did not fully leave the embrace of his gorgeous face. 'Since we have that little predicament set aside, how about we depart for the manor?'

'You have a manor here?'

'Why yes,' Nathan stated matter-of-factly. 'Of course I do. I have to have somewhere to stay during my visits here.'

Good God, Nathan was just full of surprises to-day! 'This is not your first visit?' she asked, utterly flabbergasted.

'Of course not. Did I not tell you I have work here?'

'Certainly but I thought you were only going to start. I did not think this has been going on for long.'

'It has not been going on for that long but I daresay, a few couple years will not be an untruth.' He shrugged, nonchalant, as if this piece of information was trivial.

Something dawned on Eleanor then and she hesitated to ask the looming question which now occupied her thoughts but she did anyway. 'Is that...is that why you were absent from society since your parents' death? Were you in India?'

A dark look crossed Nathan's features and a cold expression settled. 'Yes,' he replied in a clipped tone, glaringly telling her he was not inviting further conversation on the topic.

He suddenly turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Eleanor to stand there, a cloud of dust surrounding her. Sighing, she walked after him, regretting her choice to speak her mind. Certainly, it has not been one of her finest decisions. Especially since she had brought up his dead parents. Stupid, stupid her!

Eleanor watched Nathan's back as she walked behind him, towards the port exit, a cluster of people - Indian and British alike - shooting her bemused looks. Certainly, one would think an Indian girl wearing British garb trailing after a handsome English man was unusual but they did not need to openly stare.

It was because of this that she did not notice that Nathan had stopped, effectively paving the way for her to crash directly into his hard back. The lingering scent of pine and soap that she had caught a whiff of two weeks back - and a couple times later - invaded her nostrils and her mind began to distort with the drug-inducing effects his scent had on her.

She swayed slightly and Nathan turned around to steady her, his hands gripping each of her forearms.

'Are you okay?' he asked, his tone still guarded.

Eleanor nodded, and moved backwards, causing his hands to lose the grip on her arms.

He turned back and motioned to a carriage which they now stood in front of. 'Get in,' he said before doing so himself.

With yet another sigh, she climbed in after him, ignoring the stares of all the people, openly gawking at the sight of the polished black luxurious carriage in the dusty streets of Bombay lined with hand-driven carts.

The silence was palpable in the carriage as the two made the drive to the manor. Nathan did not say anything the entire journey and Eleanor's insides churned with unease.

You stupid girl! Her inner voice chided. Could you not keep your mouth shut? Look what you have done!

Eleanor agreed with her inner voice wholeheartedly. She was foolish, dumb, uncouth, atrocious...and endless other words which described her as the idiot she was.

So, instead of engaging in small talk with Nathan as she normally would, she looked out the windows, only slightly parting the curtains to catch a glimpse of the city of Bombay.

The roads they traveled on were brimming with run-down red brick buildings and people. Peasants sat by the sides of the road, their bodies barely covered. Eleanor did not know if it was because they chose not to due to tradition and culture or because they were just too poor to be able to afford anything more than the dirty pieces of cloth that only barely covered the essentials. She sincerely hoped it was the former. She would rather know that it was culture than know that the people - her people - truly lived in horrible conditions, although she highly doubted it was that.

There were a few rich-looking men walking the streets too. The turbans around their heads exuded power and the gold bracelets and chains which hung around their necks certainly indicated authority. Eleanor was not sure what sort of authority this was - she did not know a thing of the Indian political  system. She also noticed a few Englishmen on horses, their black top hats gleaming in the sun. However, there were no ladies - English, that is. She thought it might be because no lady would ever dare step foot in such an 'uncivilised' locality.

Eleanor covered the curtains and turned her gaze back to her husband who sat across her. His gaze was set outside, an incomprehensible look on his face. He made no move to move even when the carriage came to a halt and the footman - a middle-aged portly Englishman with graying hair - opened the door.

'Nathan,' Eleanor called, hoping to draw his attention. 'We've arrived.'

Nathan spared her a single glance, his face devoid of all emotion before he stepped out of the carriage leaving Eleanor to follow after him.

Climbing out with the help of the footman - her husband had long since abandoned her - she squinted at the building in front of her. Unlike his mansion in London and the castle at Wolverhampton, the manor she was currently standing in front of was smaller in comparison but no less splendid.

'Where are the trunks?' Eleanor wondered out loud.

'They'll be here later, my lady,' the footman answered her question in his gruff voice. 'They are being delivered as we speak.'

Eleanor nodded and smiled at him. She thanked him before setting off into the manor, pausing at the threshold before venturing into the place she would call her house for the next few months.

But when she did finally enter, she realised that nothing in all eighteen years of her life had prepared her for the sight that met her eyes.