Free The Hills of Singapore by Dawn Farnham

deprive her of her fortune and pass it into the hands of her husband to do with what he wished. Were a prince of the realm himself to seek her hand she would refuse him. If she married again it would be in Batavia, under Dutch law, where Tigran’s fortune and his children’s rights were protected.
    Her thoughts flew to Batavia, to her home, the grandest estate in the city, but not for long. Charlotte was happy, in so many ways, to be back here, to be surrounded by her native language, to understand her acquaintance. She embraced Jeanette Butterworth warmly. The Colonel had been fortunate, Charlotte thought, in his choice of wife for where he was pettifogging and pretentious, Jeanette was broad-minded and down- to-earth. How the conversations ran in the privacy of their sitting room Charlotte could not imagine.
    Standing at Jeanette’s side were her sister and her brother-in-law, Captain and Mrs Charles Faber. Captain Faber was the object of the accusations of nepotism since his appointment as Superintending Engineer of Singapore, a task for which, the entire town agreed, he was entirely unsuited. He was a thin and faded man but with the same supercilious air of self-aggrandisement that so marked his illustrious brother-in-law. His wife was simply mousy and quiet. He fawned over Charlotte’s hand and Charlotte disliked him immediately.
    As drinks were served, she was joined by Robert and introduced to a variety of men and women whose names she immediately forgot, all but Captain Charles Maitland, who she was surprised to find, made a strong first impression.
    Captain Maitland was of medium height, powerfully built, with shoulder-length chestnut hair and brown eyes. She knew he was an engineer but he looked like a fighter. It was an intriguing combination, and she found herself observing him in conversation with Colonel Butterworth. He spoke very little though this was, of course, the normal state of affairs with the Colonel, who would rather hear his own voice than any other. Butterworth’s interest in Captain Maitland was aided doubtless by the fact that he was the younger brother of Sir Henry Maitland, the Foreign Secretary to the Government of India.
    He was neither interested in nor perturbed by the Colonel and stood politely, simply waiting, she thought, for the right moment to move away. Self-contained, she thought. He was a self-contained man; his thoughts elsewhere. And this elsewhere, Charlotte thought, was the most interesting thing about a man who looked built for audacious and soldierly deeds of derring-do, for it was amongst the glass containers, dials, charts, logs and needles of the Magnetic Observatory at Kallang that his mind dwelt.
    They had been introduced briefly and Charlotte recognised that her gaze had been drawn to him because, beyond the usual politesse , he had paid not the slightest bit of attention to her. It was a rare occurrence as the press of young officers and midshipmen around her confirmed. She fanned herself and smiled at them and continued to covertly assess Captain Maitland.
    He was not handsome of face particularly, his nose rather broad and his chin too square. Despite the attitude of ease he adopted, standing, his hands clasped behind his back, she felt he had enormous constrained vitality. Then some couples moved between them, blocking her view, and she joined Robert and his wife, Teresa, standing with Charles and Eliza Dyce.
    Robert patted Charles lightly on the arm. “It is the most terrific thing. Can you believe Charles has been made Sheriff of the Straits Settlements?”
    â€œSheriff?” Charlotte smiled at Charles. “Is that something like the Sheriff of Nottingham, Charles? Will you prevent the rich from being robbed to help the poor?”
    Charles smiled. “Indeed, madam, I shall, though our local Chinese Robin Hoods are more inclined to keep their ill-gotten gains to themselves.”
    â€œNot so romantic, Kitt,” Robert said.