Chapter 17

Author's Notes: Gee, my reviewers are tres impatient! Eeeexcellent... There are some fabulous old photos to be found of Calcutta on Calcuttaweb. Palki is a sort of sedan chair.

Calcutta was at once familiar and exotic to the exiled emigres. The architecture seemed European with colonnades and domes, but the spaces between the grand houses were packed with people in white robes and turbans. Neo-Classical facades were shadowed by towering palm trees. There were carriages in the streets, but they competed for space with rickshaws and palki. The air was hot with the motion of moving people.

Everything was bigger than in Europe. There were more pedestrians, more carts, and larger houses. None was larger than Government House, approached by the Esplanade. On one side of the thoroughfare was a field. The other side was completely taken up by an enormous brick edifice with four wings. To English eyes, it resembled Keddleston Hall. Even the palm trees which flanked it were dwarfed by its towering portico. Holmes and Miss Bassano felt very small indeed as they walked up the stairs inside.

Government House was the residence of the Viceroy of India, the seat of the British Raj. Yet the man who greeted the new arrivals was very human. Lord Lansdowne was bald, and his forehead sloped down to pair of kindly and intelligent eyes. He had a curved moustache, the tips of which almost touched the sideburns on his cheeks. His expression was lively and his manner dignified.

"Mr Altamont, Mrs Altamont," he greeted them. "You are most welcome here!"

"You are an Oxford man!" Holmes stirred.

"Indeed," the Viceroy replied, somewhat startled. "But if you are referring to my accent, I'm afraid it has been permanently damaged by my stay in Canada."

"Of course, you served as the Queen's representative there, too!" Miss Bassano exclaimed. "You have seen the very breadth of the Empire!"

"I have had the privilege of seeing much in the course of my career. I have been helped greatly by my wife in all my endeavours," Lord Lansdowne smiled toward a woman who had just entered the room. "This is my wife, Lady Maud."

The Vicereigne was a handsome woman with a square face and curly dark hair. She had a sharp nose and deeply-set pale eyes. She shook the hands of her guests warmly.

"No doubt you have been fatigued by your journey. I will have one of the servants show you to your rooms, and you may rest before dinner. We are to be treated to a performance after dinner, so you may enjoy that, too."

Encouraged by such a civilized welcome, the Altamonts were equally pleased with their apartments. The rooms to which they were shown were generously furnished, with a small shared sitting-room which opened to two dressing-rooms that led to bedrooms beyond. Holmes lit a cigarette and lingered at the window as Miss Bassano excused herself.

The view beyond proved enticing, and before long, Holmes found himself strolling on the lawn of the rambling estate. He was joined by his host, whose pace was brisk and sportsmanlike.

"I have received information from London regarding your abilities, Mr Altamont," Lord Lansdowne began. "It seems that you will be able to contribute to our efforts in this part of the Empire."

"If my assistance should prove necessary, I will be pleased and proud to render my service to the Crown, as I have done before," Holmes answered.

"It will prove necessary very soon," Lord Lansdowne stated gravely. "We will discuss your position tomorrow. Today, you and your wife must rest and enjoy the evening's festivities."

When Holmes returned to their rooms, he found his wife indeed resting. She was dressed in a pale muslin wrapper, with frills at the neck and wrists. Her hair, still wet from a bath, was tightly braided down her back, and she lay curled on a chaise in a shadowed corner. She had fallen asleep, and one of her slippers had fallen to the floor. The other dangled precariously off her bare foot. Unnerved by the intimacy of her pose, he went to cover her sleeping form with a throw from the sofa. She stirred at his movement, and her eyes fluttered open.

"I did not mean to wake you," Holmes apologized.

"No, I shouldn't have fallen asleep. I was more fatigued than I had imagined," she rubbed her eyes. "Did you go for a walk?"

"Yes. I met the Marquess in the grounds."

"What did he say? What will he have you do?" Miss Bassano sat up.

"We are to discuss it tomorrow. Meanwhile, we are to enjoy ourselves at dinner."

"Dinner!" Miss Bassano jumped. "I must begin to prepare! It has been so long since I attended one of these soirees." She started toward her dressing-room and called over her shoulder, "Will you ring for a maid?" And, pausing with a critical glance at Holmes, "And a valet, to help you."

wwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dinner did, in fact, turn out to be quite entertaining. The Lord and Lady Lansdowne regaled their guests with stories of their travels in Canada. The dramatic conclusion of the Metis Rebellion proved especially popular, although it was clear that the Viceroy reserved a special appreciation of the wilderness of the new country.

It was a strange gathering, mixing nouveau Indian riche, who aspired to become English with English exiles. All the guests seemed eager to hear the concert, and they soon withdrew to hear the talented young violinist who had been invited to play. Just as they were about to sit down, Miss Bassano excused herself to reclaim something she had left in the dining-room. When she came back to sit at Holmes' side, the concert had already begun. As the strings swelled and quieted in turn, she was surprised to see a tear glistening on his cheek.