Free Monsoon Mists by Christina Courtenay Page B

did he prosper then?’
    Andrew laughed. ‘Not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact, and then, understandably, he got fed up with India and wanted to return home. But there was a small problem – his daughter.’
    Jamie frowned. ‘Why? And what about the wife?’
    ‘Oh, she’d died long before, which was just as well, I suppose. The daughter had grown into quite the little beauty though, just like her mother, but he couldn’t take her back to England for good. Apparently he tried it once and she stuck out like a sore thumb. Stands to reason, I mean, her looks and everything … Can you imagine her in Yorkshire? London maybe, but Evans was from the north.’
    As far as Jamie was concerned, Mrs Miller wasn’t outrageously different from the wholly European women, but he had to concede she probably would stand out in a group of provincial English girls. ‘But surely, with such beauty she could have pulled it off?’
    Andrew shook his head. ‘I doubt it and the old man was ashamed of her. The Lord knows why – he married her mother, for heaven’s sake, but anyway … He hit on another idea.’ He paused to take another sip of wine, no doubt hoping to build Jamie’s anticipation, then announced with a flourish, ‘He sold her.’
    ‘What?’ Jamie blinked at him. ‘I didn’t think there was slavery here.’
    ‘Not as such, no.’ Andrew chuckled. ‘What I meant was, he practically sold her in marriage to a very old man, Francis Miller. He must have been at least fifty.’
    ‘That’s not exactly ancient.’ Jamie found himself frowning again, although he wasn’t sure why.
    ‘It is if you’ve spent the larger part of those years in India. Trust me, he looked like a septuagenarian at the very least.’ Andrew gave a theatrical shudder. ‘Poor girl was barely seventeen.’
    ‘Sounds barbaric.’ And it was. Jamie didn’t even want to picture the couple in his mind’s eye. He could only imagine how she must have felt. ‘But it happens, even back home.’
    ‘I know, but still, can’t have been a happy day for her. She did well out of it though. The old man died a couple of years later and although he had a grown up son from a previous marriage, William, she inherited half his business. Don’t know if you’ve met young Miller yet?’
    Jamie nodded. ‘Very briefly.’
    ‘Yes, well, he’s not exactly a trading genius, if the gossips are to be believed. Whereas Mrs Miller has a brain as sharp as they come and that’s probably why she was entrusted with half the company. Damn millstone round William’s neck though, wouldn’t you say? Having to work with a woman, I mean. The man was incandescent when he found out.’ Andrew smirked.
    ‘I can understand that, but perhaps now he’s discovered she’s an asset?’
    ‘Not according to him, but I don’t know.’
    ‘Well, thanks for telling me.’ Jamie lifted his cup of wine in salute. ‘I guess I’d better make an appointment to see them. Should make for an interesting meeting.’
    Andrew laughed again. ‘Good luck, is all I can say.’
    ‘ Sahiba ,you are wanted downstairs. The gentlemen wish to speak to you apparently.’ Priya stood just inside the door of Zar’s room, frowning. ‘Shall I tell them it’s too late and you’ve retired for the evening?’
    Zar was tempted to say yes. William had been entertaining some of his English friends from the Factory and she’d heard their laughter echoing round the house. No doubt they’d have had their fair share of imported wine. Who knew how drunk they were by now? But if she didn’t go, William might take it into his head to come and fetch her. It had happened before and she hated having to deal with him when he was having one of his tantrums. Much easier to humour him briefly, then make some excuse and leave. He couldn’t be rude to her in front of guests.
    ‘No, I’ll go down directly. Thank you, Priya.’
    As Zar descended the staircase she wondered what she would find. She hoped this