By Eastern windows by Gretta Curran Browne Read Free Book Online Page B

shrieking greetings across the room and men bowing graciously in response. On every female neck and hand, Indian jewels blazed garishly. Some of the civilian gentlemen of the East India Company were almost as bejewelled as the ladies, ruby and diamond rings dazzling on both hands. Lachlan considered it all to be excessively vulgar. The room quickly became like a hothouse, the exuding odour of perfume and powder sickened him.
    All in a moment, as if he was alone, the silent peace of the Scottish hills descended upon him. He had a sudden yearning to walk alone amongst trees and sit by the still waters of a silent loch again … and just as quickly his senses cleared and the brouhaha all about him came back ... more guests were arriving, more colours and silks and feathers and jewels.
    An elegant couple were being announced, ‘Mr and Mrs Morley,’ but it was the girl who accompanied them who caught Lachlan’s attention. A tall, graceful girl, with beautiful long dark chestnut hair which was undressed and without jewels or peacock feathers. She was no more than twenty and wore a gown of watery green silk, exquisite but simple. No frills or flounces, no emerald halter round her neck or diamond tiara on her head. She looked as refreshing as a walk through the trees.
    Her arms were bare and her skin golden. That surprised him, for most of the wives and daughters of the East India Company prided themselves on their milky-white skin and took every precaution to protect it.
    He watched as the threesome moved down the side aisle to one of the tables, his eyes fixed on the slender figure of the girl as she sat down beside her two companions. She sat with her back straight, and she was beautiful with a dark serene beauty that was rare in the English.
    ‘Lachlan...?’
    He turned to see John Forbes, a personal friend from the civilian population of Bombay.
    ‘Man, John, it’s you! He shook his friend’s hand vigorously, confused by his own sudden excitement. ‘I am very glad you decided to come tonight.’
    ‘Oh? Why so?’
    ‘Because you might be able to do me a personal favour.’
    John Forbes, an elegant man in his early forties, and a well-established banker, prided himself on knowing everything about everyone in Bombay. So Lachlan asked him:   ‘Do you see that girl, John?   Long chestnut hair, a green dress … sitting with an older couple.’
    ‘Where? … Oh, yes.’ John had now picked her out in the line of tables.   ‘Miss Jane Jarvis. She arrived in India just a few days ago, from the West Indies. Comes from a very wealthy family on one of the islands there, but I can't remember which one.’
    ‘The West Indies?’ That explained the sunburned tan of her skin. `Go on,’ Lachlan urged.
    ‘Well, whichever island it was, her father was Chief Justice there. He died recently and left her a very acceptable fortune.’
    ‘So she's rich?’ Lachlan was not surprised – most of the white civilians in Bombay were rich.
    ‘Oh, yes, very rich indeed,’ John replied, ‘but as she is not yet twenty-one years old, only nineteen, her sister's husband, James Morley, has now assumed the role of her guardian.’ He gave Lachlan a glance of warning. ‘But in view of her wealth, I doubt if he would ever consider relinquishing her to any man worth less than a thousand a year sterling.’
    ‘How much?’ Lachlan looked startled.
    John Forbes could not help smiling at Lachlan's shock. It was obvious he still did not fully realise the enormous wealth of British Bombay.
    Lachlan’s gaze focused silently on the girl sitting at the table, her eyes watching the dancers as if she was gazing at some enchanting scene. Something about her was familiar. He wondered if the island she came from was Jamaica, or perhaps Barbados. Just looking at her reminded him of the sweet air and magical nights of the Caribbean.    
    Resolutely, he said, ‘I still want to be introduced to her.’  
    John Forbes shook his head.‘No point, old chum,