Veils of Silk (17 page)

"The deaths are a great tragedy, but you're not responsible," she said reasonably. "Since someone had to inherit, what is wrong with the fact that it was you? I'm sure that wherever your uncle is now, he's pleased that the family patrimony has gone to someone who will cherish it."

After a pause, he said, "You're right, of course. One of the things I like about you is your admirable common sense."

"If I had common sense," she said tartly, "I would not be considering your proposal."

"Then I must hope that sometimes you'll have sense, and other times you'll have none at all." He sighed. "As I said earlier, I want to be honest with you, Laura. I can provide for you in a material sense, but I've changed for the worse in more ways than one. Though I used to have an amiable disposition, I've been living in a black fog for months. On a bad day it takes every shred of will I have just to get out of bed, and the good days aren't much better. Sometimes I feel like a dried husk that will blow away in the next strong wind."

He paused to consider, then shook his head. "That's not a very good description, but I don't know a better one. Lately—since I met you—the good days have outnumbered the bad, but I'll still probably be a moody and difficult husband."

She considered his words calmly, her slanted golden eyes thoughtful, then said simply, "Melancholia."

Startled, he said, "I've never been melancholic."

"You were never imprisoned and tortured before, either," she pointed out. "Melancholia is not uncommon, you know. My father's father suffered from terrible spells of it. He would stay in bed for days on end. When he did get up, he drifted about like a body searching for its lost soul. But always the darkness passed, and then no one could match his high spirits. In your case, the melancholy was surely brought on by your experiences. When it lifts, you may never suffer from it again."

She nibbled on her lower lip reflectively. "If you were never despondent in the past, melancholy would hit you all the harder for being unfamiliar. My grandfather said that his first bad spell was the worst, because he feared it would never end. In time, it became easier for him to weather the moods."

Ian thought about that. Both Juliet and David had counseled patience, saying that things would improve. Laura went one step further; by matter-of-factly naming his condition, she had made it easier to understand. Perhaps he wasn't uniquely cursed.

Melancholia. In his pre-Bokhara days, he had never quite believed in it, for his own temperament was naturally buoyant. He'd vaguely assumed that people who claimed to be suffering from melancholia were simply self-indulgent. With a little effort and self-respect, they would be perfectly fine. But if what Ian had been experiencing was melancholia, in the future he would have a great deal more sympathy with those who were afflicted. "I hope you're right. But if you are and I improve much in the future, I might become very different from the man you would be marrying."

"Everyone changes with time, Ian. I like you very well the way you are—if you learn to laugh again, I think I would like you even better. So much for melancholia." She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Are you an agreeable man?"

Startled by her abrupt change of direction, he said cautiously, "Probably not. How do you define agreeable?"

"In the literal sense of being willing to accommodate the wishes of others," she explained. "My mother once said that the most comfortable marriages are between two people who are both easygoing, who do not always insist on having their own way. When two such people
do
disagree about what to do, the one who cares most about the result will get his or her way, and the other accepts it good-naturedly."

Intrigued, he said, "Your mother sounds like a wise woman. But what if there is a difference of opinion and both parties care greatly about how the issue is decided?"

"Then they fight," she said, eyes twinkling. "But I am an agreeable person—most of the time—and you seem to be also. I don't think we would fight often."

Ian thought of his own parents. His father had always had to have his own way, in matters great and small, and his mother had always submitted meekly. Ian had not been surprised when his sister rejected meekness in favor of rebellion. "I suppose I'm agreeable in the sense you mean, if not always in other ways."

"Very good." She cocked her head to one side. "Do you have any other dark secrets to reveal?"

"One more, and this may be the worst," he said with wry humor. "The lords of Falkirk were border bandits for centuries, so the family seat is built for defense, not comfort. It's one of those frightful medieval castles with twelve-foot thick walls, smoking chimneys, and ancient weapons lurking in dark corners."

"Ghosts?" she asked hopefully.

"Three or four, but they're a harmless lot. Far worse are the drafts. When the wind blows from the North Sea, it would freeze the ears off a stone elephant."

"You should not say such a thing in front of our friend Ganesha," she said with mock reproval. "And don't think you can frighten a Russian with tales of cold. Compared to St. Petersburg, your Falkirk will seem like Calcutta. We Russkis are very good at creating warmth in a frozen land."

Though her words were teasing, they were also absolutely true, for Laura had already created warmth in Ian's frozen heart. "I think
I've covered the worst of my dark secrets," he said. "Do you have any to confess?"

Her levity faded and she glanced away, her absent gaze falling on the bas relief next to her. "I haven't your ability to be honest about things that are deeply painful, Ian. That isn't a dark secret, but it certainly is a flaw in my character."

"If that's your worst failing, I'll be a lucky man." He smiled a little. "I suppose the only thing that would make me withdraw my proposal is if you have a husband stashed somewhere. Do you?"

She shook her head. "Nary a husband to my name."

Knowing that he shouldn't rush her but unable to bear the suspense, he said, "Are you ready to make a decision, or will you need more time?"

Laura reached out and rubbed Ganesha's round, jolly belly with her palm. Ganesha,
the happy god, who removed obstacles from the paths of mortals. "Laura
Stephenson is a calm, rational Englishwoman who thinks that what you are
proposing is mad," she said slowly. "But Larissa Alexandrovna is a demented Russian, and she says I should grab this opportunity with both hands, for I'll never have another like it."

Hope welling in his heart, he rose to his feet and walked toward her. "Then by all means remember that you are Russian."

Laura turned from Ganesha to look at him. "What was your father's Christian name?"

"The same as your father's—Alexander." He stopped directly in front of her, close enough to touch but restraining the impulse to do so. The last thing he wanted was to alarm her now.

She took a deep breath. "Very well, Ivan Alexandrovich, I accept." Reaching out, she grasped both his hands in hers. "And I hope to heaven that we don't both live to regret this!"

"I won't," he said with absolute conviction. "And I swear I'll do my best to see that you don't, either."

"Ah, well, nothing ventured, nothing gained," she said jauntily. "And what do I have to lose but my sanity and peace of mind?" Her icy hands tightened on his and her voice dropped. "I'm terrified, Ian, but I'm also delighted."

With a gratitude too profound for words, Ian raised her hands and kissed them gently, first the left, then the right. In Cambay, he had realized that he must find something to care about if he wanted to survive. Now, in this golden-eyed girl, he had found his reason to go on living.

As they rode back to Baipur, Ian said, "Unless you object, I'd like to get married as soon as possible. Within a fortnight, if the legalities can be completed and there's a Christian clergyman available."

Laura drew in her breath. "It seems so sudden. An hour ago I was a dedicated spinster and now I'm planning my wedding." Her brow furrowed as she thought. "But it does make sense to marry soon. There's an English missionary who comes to Baipur, and he should arrive within the next week. I'll have finished settling my affairs here so we can be off the day after the ceremony."

His gaze slanted over to her. For the first time, she realized that Ian always rode with her to his left, the side of his good eye, so that he could see her easily. "Do you prefer to travel fast and light or slow and comfortable?" he asked.

She grinned. "What if I tell you that I can't stir without twenty bullock carts and forty servants?"

"If that's what Lady Falkirk wants," he said stoically.

"Goodness, you really are agreeable," she said, impressed. "But I prefer riding on horseback with few or no servants. Traveling in state makes me impatient, though Papa and I had to do it because of his position. My maid is a native of Baipur and is to marry soon herself, so she won't want to come with me. I can manage alone until we reach Bombay."

He regarded her quizzically. "You really won't miss having an army of servants?"

"Not in the least." She wrinkled her nose. "I know we must have large households to uphold British prestige, and it does provide work for people who need it, but having so many servants is as much nuisance as luxury. Often it would be easier to do the job myself rather than wait for someone of the right caste to be summoned. Once a dead bird lay in the garden for half a day before the right sort of untouchable could be brought in to remove it. It seemed very peculiar, because I was new in India and hadn't learned that none of the higher cast Hindus could touch a dead body without being defiled."

He gave an understanding nod. "As a junior officer, I found it bizarre that a soldier who would risk his life for me without a second thought would refuse to accept water from my canteen. Still, the Hindu rules about cleanliness are healthy."

"My father used to say that all the customs that seem incomprehensible to a European evolved to meet valid social needs," Laura said. "However, to return to the subject of our journey to Bombay, it will be simpler and faster if we travel without an entourage."

"Then we will," Ian said. "Incidentally, we must go through Cambay, though it's out of the way. I told my brother I'd spend a few days with him before going home."