Chapter 14

Eleanor was sure she had gone mad. Mad to the point of insanity. Mad to the point she knew there was no return from, to the point where madness had made abode in her with no intention of ever leaving - like a parasite which leached off of its victim.

Of course, the simple fact that she was comparing madness to a filthy parasite after what she had had to just go through confirmed her belief that she had indeed become inane.

With a groan, she removed her dressing robe and draped it on the back of a chair before climbing under the rich duvet of her bed. The duvet provided her with warmth; a welcome relief from the stinging cold the rain had left behind in its wake. However, she deeply doubted anything could give her what she really wanted in that moment: the ability to turn back time and redo her ludicrous actions from that afternoon.

Her mind whirled with the happenings that led to her current state of indisposition. Nathan telling her she was worth apologising to over and over again - she thought him asinine to say that - her doe-eyed stare as her heart thumped furiously, his laugh afterwards telling her that he did not mean anything by it, the disappointment that had coursed through her at his words and finally, the frantic and embarrassed run that had led to her locking herself in her room, refusing to answer as Nathan, her lady's maid and several others knocked on the door, pleading with her to at least answer them.

She covered her face with her hands and moaned at the barrage of memories. He must think her insane! What else would one think when someone simply runs from the other mid-conversation?

But she would pretend it would be fine...yes, of course. She would hide her insanity from Nathan and the maids and pretend nothing ever happened. She could blame it all on her cycles. Yes, she could do that! No one would dare question a lady further on such matters. Indeed, it seemed so simple!

For now, she would drift off to sleep, hopefully with no intrusion of her husband in her dreams.

**********

It will be alright, Eleanor told herself as she stood at the entrance to the dining room the following day.

Pretend nothing happened and it will be alright, she said yet again as her hand twitched with the folds of her gown and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

How she wished her body would go through with the statements which her mind was making.

With a final deep breath, she signalled the footman to open the door and entered.

Nathan, who was seated at the head of the table, jumped to his feet at her arrival. Eleanor moved to her seat at his side, trying to be as nonchalant as possible; trying to not let him know of her inner turmoil.

'Eleanor,' Nathan breathed when she sat, and followed her action. 'Are you alright?'

Eleanor raised her head to his and smiled. 'Quite. Why do you ask?'

'Why did you lock yourself in your chambers?' he asked, his eyes undecipherable orbs of a brilliant blue. 'You ran, completely drenched might I add, from the rain and refused to come out. Do you have any idea how worried I was?' Nathan's voice rose in the end and Eleanor found that she herself had pressed her back against the chair.

She slowly moved forward and studied Nathan. He looked distraught and his hands were fists on the table top. If it had been anyone else, she would have been scared, terrified even, of the palpable tension in the room.

'Well,' Eleanor started. 'I didn't realise you were so worried. It is just that I...well, I was indisposed.'

Nathan's brows furrowed and he regarded Eleanor in a calculating manner which sent a shiver down her spine. She was, however, glad to note that he had unclenched his fists. 'What do you mean by indisposed?' he asked.

The room suddenly seemed smaller and Eleanor's heart picked up the pace. She had been rehearsing what to say to him the entire morning but now, all she wanted to do was run back to her room and lock herself in there. But, she wouldn't. She was a lady, however much she abhorred that fact, and she would get through this unscathed.

'I mean...it is a silly matter. Nothing of much consequence. It is just that...well, if you must know, it had something to do with my cycles.'

Nathan reeled back, his face showing complete confusion. 'Your cycles?' he asked.

Eleanor gulped and tried to say it again in a way Nathan would understand. 'Yes, Nathan, my cycles. My cycles.'

The confusion prevailed on his face for a second more before realisation took hold of him and horror washed over it.

'Oh, pardon me, I did not think,' he said quickly, looking uncomfortable. 'Well, that is...are you alright now?'

Eleanor fought the heat creeping up her cheeks and forced a tight smile onto her face. 'Absolutely. Thank you.'

Nathan regained his composure – with a lot of effort, Eleanor noted – and picked up his forgotten cutlery.

'So, shall we eat?'

**********

'Where are we going?' Eleanor asked, parting the carriage curtains and looking outside. All she saw was the dusty road they were travelling on, covered in a layer of smoke.

'For the last time, Eleanor, you shall know when we reach,' her husband said, exasperated.

Eleanor scowled and pulled back, glancing at Nathan who sat across from her. He was immaculately dressed, as if he was going to a ball. He had told Eleanor to dress well too and she had worn her finest day dress, a lovely lavender gown. But she highly doubted they were going to attend a ball in the middle of the day.

'You've dressed like you're off to a ball,' Eleanor argued. 'Why?'

'Well, we are in India now,' Nathan said. 'The English are expected to dress in their finest wherever they go.'

'Indeed?'

'I believe it is meant to be a show of dominance. To keep the Indians at bay. We mustn't be the only ones dressed casually and draw attention.'

Eleanor smiled softly. 'Then I must definitely be a strange sight to behold.'

Nathan raised a quizzical brow. 'Why ever would you say that?'

Eleanor gestured to herself. 'Look at me. I am an Indian in western clothing. Who has ever seen such a sight?'

Nathan chuckled. 'You do know some Englishmen take Indian women as their wives, don't you?'

Eleanor gasped. 'Do they really? I thought they were merely mistresses!'

Nathan shrugged. 'Well, that too. But, some do not mind having them as wives.'

Eleanor turned her head away.

I guess there is more than one decent man.

'You know, Eleanor,' Nathan began and Eleanor turned to face him. He had a small smile on his face as he looked at her. Eleanor felt her heart skip a beat at his expression. 'I do not really know the story behind your adoption.'

'Oh,' she said and turned away. He wanted to know her story. She had never really told anyone it and neither had her parents. Everyone simply knew her as the girl Lord Salford adopted. The truth was that she had always been quite ashamed of her heritage. Her mother hated her and so did most of the ton. The story behind her adoption was never made public for Lady Salford's fear of tarnishing their reputation – if it hadn't been already, as her mother had once said.

So dare she indulge him in her past? Or not?

It could not hurt if someone knew about me.

Taking a deep breath, she began. 'My father was stationed here for a long time. He worked for the East India Company, is what he told me. One day, however, he was attacked in his office by a group of revolting villagers. He was enraged and went to the Viceroy, Lord Canning, and told him he was leaving. He said he could not stand being in a place where violence abounded and to top it off, my mother, Lady Salford, had just found out she could not have children.' She lowered her gaze to the reticule in her hands. She had always pitied her mother in that regard. Finding out she could not give her husband an heir coupled with getting an Indian for a daughter had given birth to her temper, Eleanor knew and she could not help but feel sorry.

'It was when he was at the Viceroy's office that a man rushed in saying that a baby had been found,' she continued, looking up. 'That a man, who had been part of the attack on Company Headquarters, had brought with him, a child.'

Nathan's face was a muddle of conflicting emotions. She registered shock, confusion and above all, anger. 'What?' he shouted and Eleanor flinched at his outburst. Nathan, seeing Eleanor flinch, lowered his voice when he continued, 'You mean to tell me that your father took you with him when he staged a revolt?'

Eleanor nodded. 'Yes, although no one knows if he was my father at all. The man was found lying under rubble, with a wound to his stomach. He must have been hit during the returning fire. But he still had me held to his chest and surprisingly, I was safe. When someone found him, he handed me over, telling him to keep me safe. When my father, lord Salford, saw me, he took me in, despite many a person's objection.'

Nathan shook his head. 'I still cannot believe someone would bring a baby to a firing.'

'Well, Papa thinks I must have had no other family. That man must have been the only person left.'

'And now you'll never know,' Nathan said as he reached over and clasped Eleanor's gloved hand in his which sent a jolt through her arm at his contact.

She smiled sadly. 'And now I'll never know,' she agreed and squeezed is hand before letting go.

They spent the next fifteen minutes in companionable silence as the carriage rumbled down the bumpy streets.

When at last they came to a stop, Nathan got out first before holding out a hand, being the gentleman he was, and helped her out.

Eleanor emerged from the carriage and looked around at her lively and noisy surroundings. They seemed to be in some sort of market. Vendors sat on either side of the road selling spices, clothes, bangles and various other items, all of them foreign to her, while Englishmen and women and Indians alike bargained with them.

She squinted at a man who sat a couple paces away with a basket in front of him. He seemed to be blowing on a long stick of sorts and slowly the lid of the basket fell off, its occupant slowly rising...

Eleanor shrieked and backed away, hitting a hard surface as she did so. She whirled around to see Nathan behind her, his arms coming to rest on her shoulders. He, however, seemed to be unable to burst out laughing.

'Is that a snake?' she asked him, horrified.

Nathan finally laughed and Eleanor fumed.

The devil was laughing at me!

When he finally composed himself, he answered her, still smiling. 'Yes, I believe it is a King Cobra. They are in full abundance here, after all.'

'But...isn't their venom supposed to be extremely fatal?' she asked, her voice wavering.

Nathan nodded coolly. 'Why, yes. Theirs is the most poisonous. There is a reason they are called King Cobras, after all.'

Eleanor must have had terror written all over her face because Nathan started to massage her shoulders as he led her through the market. 'Relax, Eleanor. The man is a snake charmer. The snake will obey the man and unless the man wants it to, it will not harm us.'

Eleanor veered away as they passed by the snake charmer. 'You mean to say that the snake is at the mercy of a man, the most dangerous of all living species?'

Nathan chuckled. 'Do not be as dramatic as that, darling,' he said and Eleanor internally froze at his term of endearment. 'As long as you manage to not anger any snake charmers, you shall be absolutely fine.'

Eleanor was not comforted in the slightest but she remained quiet as Nathan led her through the market. She looked around at the stalls and admired the colours which seemed to abound in every corner. Ruby red, sunlit yellow, peacock blue and emerald green fabrics were hung at one stall and the rich aroma of spices wafted under her nose as she passed by another. Vendors were calling out to her and Nathan, asking them to buy this and that and yelling about the cheap prices.

Soon, however, the stalls became scarce and Eleanor was aware that they were entering dangerous territory. The buildings around her seemed to loom over her and the vibrant noises dulled until all she heard were scary whispers.

'Please don't tell me you've brought me here to do away with me,' she muttered to Nathan.

Nathan grinned down at her. 'No, but you're not completely off about my intentions.'

Eleanor halted in her tracks and stared at him who stopped too.

He wouldn't, would he?

'I am jesting, of course,' Nathan teased and turned back to walk. Eleanor, after a few moments of contemplation of whether or not to trust him to not kill her – she chose to do so – followed him.

Nathan finally stopped before a small, dingy and dirty-looking shop and looked around before grabbing her hand and pulling her in with her.

However, when they made it inside and Nathan closed the door behind him, Eleanor froze.

Standing all around them with pieces of cloth covering half their faces were several men with huge rifles and revolvers.

And they were pointing them at her.