Across Three Continents

A/N- This was inspired by Pompey and Chewing Gum's "Pillow Talk." My hearfelt gratitude goes out to the authors, for giving me permission to post this.

I'm feeling a little self-conscious about this since it's so long, so I'm posting it in two parts- hope you people don't mind.:)

Reviews- and quibbles- are always welcome.

Disclaimer- I own nothing but a blue teddy bear. Oh, and Ratna.

Part I

Lucknow, India

1880

She sashayed into the room, her anklets chiming softly. A green veil concealed her hair and framed her face. In her right hand, she carried a lantern.

My fingers tightened on the bedspread. The room seemed to be extremely humid all of a sudden. I was sweating profusely.

Why had I agreed to this?

She halted in front of me, lowered the lantern, and looked across the glass rim at my face, but I did not look back at her.

Something of a smile flitted across her lips. She set down the lantern on a table, closed the doors, and sat opposite me on the bed.

"I give you my word," she said, with a serious face, "I will not take you by force."

I stared at her, unable to believe what I had just heard. Then I saw that the corners of her mouth were twitching.

We both burst into laughter.

"La," she said at length, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I assure you, Sahib, you were quite a spectacle, blushing and squirming like a village damsel on her wedding night."

"I apologise," I said, striving to catch my breath. "I have not had much experience of this sort."

"That much is obvious," she whispered conspiratorially, and we both dissolved into laughter again.

"So," I said, when I could speak once more, "what will happen now?"

"It is your choice, Sahib," she said, batting her eyelashes. "You were the one who paid my price."

"Yes, but not willingly, I must say."

She looked affronted.

"You do not like me then?"

"No, no, nothing of the sort," I hastened to assure her. "I meant that I did not wish to- to engage in those- activities, when I purchased your services tonight."

I could see that she was puzzled.

"Then why buy me at all?"

"It was-" I hesitated. "It was a matter of pride."

"Pride?" Suddenly, she looked horrified. "You do not mean that you- you cannot-"

"No!" I exclaimed, with rather more force than I had intended.

Her expression changed to that of confusion.

"Well," I said, slowly, "my friends in the army expect me to- to have some experience in these matters. I, however, wish to-"

"To remain unspoiled?" she asked, with a laugh.

I flushed.

"Yes, that would be correct."

"Well," she said mischievously, "I cannot force you, as I said. It is your wish, Sahib."

"You do not mind?"

"Oh, not at all," she replied, looking around the room." But we must remain here, if our reputations are to be preserved, and the night is yet long. We must find some means of occupying ourselves."

"Well, then," I said, leaning back on the bed. "Tell me something about yourself. What is your name?"

She seemed surprised at the question.

"They call me Ratna," she said, eventually.

"Is that not your real name?"

"Oh, I have many names," she cried, springing to her feet like a child. "Chandra, Meena, Madhumati, Dilruba, Maya…" She walked around the bed, her anklets chiming at every word. "But I was first called Chutki by my mother, when I was small."

"Your mother? What was she like?"

"Strict," she replied thoughtfully. "So was my father. They used to beat me with a stick if I did not do my chores properly."

"How harsh of them!" I exclaimed.

Ratna laughed. "Oh, no, they were quite kind, all things considered. I know children whose parents flogged them every single day with a cat-o'-nine tails, and barely gave them enough to eat."

"Did you go to school at all?" I asked, wishing to change the gruesome subject.

"School?" She looked at me incredulously. "No, Sahib. School is only for boys. We little girls stayed at home to help our mothers. Sometimes, when our chores were done, we would sneak out to the woods."

"And what did you do there?" I inquired, my curiosity in this unlikely harlot increasing by the minute.

She shrugged. "We would play catch, hide and seek, koko, anything we liked."

Her eyes sparkled. "Sometimes, we would even dance. Not like that," here she glanced back in the general direction of the hall with such a comical expression of distaste that I could not help but laugh at her. "Like this!"

And she sprang into a pretty little sequence of pirouettes, claps, and waves of the hand. I stared at her, amazed at the contrast between this little waif and the seductive courtesan I had seen in the dance hall not an hour ago.

"Well?" she asked breathlessly, after two solid minutes of this performance.

"That was quite something," I said truthfully.

She beamed at my praise.

"I always loved dancing," she said, seating herself on the opposite edge of the bed.

"One day, when I was seven, I actually sneaked out from home to see a mujra."

"What was it like?"

Her eyes took on a dreamy look.

"Looking back, I suppose it was quite ordinary," she said, "but it was nothing short of wonderful to me then. The lady who performed it wore a lovely embroidered skirt of red silk, with a golden blouse. She had gold bangles on her wrists, and more jewellery than I had ever seen on a bride. And when she danced, I felt as though I was on a cloud in the sky."

"You must have been very happy," I said softly.

"For a few minutes, I was." Her brow furrowed. "But then, some old woman came in and demanded to know what I was doing there."

"What happened then?"

"I told her I had come out to see the dancing. She asked me if my parents knew. I said they did not. Suddenly, she grinned wickedly."

" 'Do you like dancing, beti?'

" 'Yes,'I said, timidly.

" 'Would you like to be a dancer?'

" 'Oh, yes,' I cried.

" 'Then come along with me, and I'll make you one in no time.'

" 'But what about my parents?' I asked.

" 'Oh, they'll hardly miss you,' said she. 'Come along now, there's no time for trifles.'"

"And so along I went with her, hardly believing my good luck. I was entrusted to Meena Bibi, who owns this house. I was introduced to a lot of children my age. I was given good clothes and plenty of good food, with barely any chores to do. And best of all, I was taught not only dancing, but to read and write Urdu, to speak English, and to sew." She laughed. "Of course, I would be a bit older before I realized I was not going to be just a dancer."

"Do you regret it at all?" I asked, taken aback at the casual way she recounted her past.

"What- coming here?" She smiled. "No, not at all. I'd rather dance every night than get married and be a slave to my husband and in-laws, or even-" she shuddered "become a widow."

My shock at this pronunciation must have showed on my face, for presently she said, "Sahib, what about your family?"

"I have my parents and my brother."

"What about your aunts, your uncles, and grandparents?" she inquired.

"They live in the country. I hardly ever see them."

"How sad," she said quietly.

"No, it is often so in our country."

"Oh." Then, suddenly, "Do you have a sweetheart, Sahib?"

I found myself blushing in spite of myself. "As a matter of fact, I do."

"Is she pretty?" Her eyes were teasing now.

"Not particularly, but to me, she is always beautiful."

"Hai, mainu marjava! How romantic," giggled Ratna. "Will you marry her when you go back to England?"

"Well, maybe, if she won't mind." I said flippantly.

"Do you know, Sahib," she said dreamily, as she unfastened her veil, "it has always been a dream of mine to get married. Not to stay married, you know- that would be too troublesome. But just to be dressed up in a red sari, with henna on my hands, and music playing in the background, and then to have someone tie the wedding thread on my neck while everyone throws flowers at us- now that would be wonderful."

"Marriage is not such a simple matter, you silly girl," I laughed, albeit a little uneasily, at this quaint treatment of so sacred a subject.

"Probably not," she agreed, undoing her hair, "but I'd like it if it were."

Liked it? Hated it? Please review!And stay tuned for Part Two!