There's a change in the point of view this time around; I thought I'd try something different. It's horrible. My apologies beforehand. The story picks up again next chapter.

I loathe my summary and have considered writing a new one, but I haven't come up with anything halfway decent yet. Any suggestions?

Interlude Three: Alone at the Hearth-Fire

"What is a woman that you forsake her,
and the hearth-fire and the home-acre,
to go with the old gray Widow-maker?"
– Rudyard Kipling, "Harp Song of the Dane Women"

September 23, 1934
Bombay

If someone had told Saroja Narindar as a child that she would marry a white man, she would have laughed. As for that man being the heir of a baronet – she wouldn't have considered that joke funny at all.

When she first encountered John Ashfield in 1921, her world changed. What she had once thought impossible became a reality. Life with John had taught her to take nothing for granted.

She'd met John through Laura, and she met Laura because of the Faradays. The lady of the house, a pinched-faced woman who had married her Baron for money and not love, had hired Saroja as a teenager to be a housemaid. By the time the family took on Laura Ashfield as a governess for their three daughters, Saroja had become Lady Faraday's personal maid.

For a long time, Saroja had been intimidated by Laura, though she knew none of it was intentional on the other woman's part. Laura wasn't dramatically pretty, nor did she go out of her way to make herself so. She had an under-stated beauty to her, something one didn't notice until one really looked at her. Few people took the opportunity to put Laura under such scrutiny, and she didn't appreciate the attention anyway. She, like John, preferred the anonymity of a plain face and a plain style.

What Saroja had always envied was Laura's grace and poise. She carried herself like a proper British lady – which she was, by birth and by nature – but she caught people off guard. Sitting still, at a dinner party or in a parlor, she looked as prim and proper as any respectable lady. When she spoke, the illusion shattered, exposing the intelligence and wit hidden by her bland exterior. It also revealed the bitterness – Laura had emerged from her war experience hardened, and during the time she worked for the Faradays, she had acted with the maturity of a woman twice her age. Some men had found this aspect of her alluring; most had thought it more than a little off-putting.

Now, sitting at the little kitchen table, Saroja looked at Laura and saw that time had not chipped much away from that hard, bitter shell. The years after the War had not all been good to Laura. The marriage to Will Crawford had never stood on solid ground, and after the pregnancy –

Ah, but that's a long time past, Saroja thought. Some things should stay buried.

The children had finished their dinner, leaving the table to Saroja and Laura. Gilbert snuggled in Saroja's arms, half-asleep, while Mary and Paul practiced one of Uncle Robert's card games on the floor. On any other night, they would already be in bed. But the Venture sailed the next day, and John would leave early in the morning before anyone else awakened. Goodbyes would have to be said tonight.

"Have you met Mr. Englehorn?" Saroja asked as she sipped her tea.

"I have," said Laura. "He seems a capable captain."

"He is a good man. I trust him to keep John safe."

"You still worry about him, after all these years?"

"Every time he comes home, I tell myself that this is the last time. That he's not going away again. And every time, when I hold him in my arms at night, I know that I can't make him stay."

Laura reached across the table, covering Saroja's slender brown hand with her own. "He comes home, Saroja. He's always come home."

The front door opened, and the children jumped up from the floor, screeching greetings to their father as they ran into the living room. Gilbert roused himself from his mother and slid from her lap, toddling after his older siblings. After a few moments, the squeals rose again, followed this time by a deep, hearty laugh.

"He must have brought the Captain with him," Saroja said as she stood. "He's come by a few times, when they're in port. The children adore him."

One of Laura's eyebrows arched up over her eye, and Saroja shook her head to say that she thought it just as odd. John had described his captain as a taciturn man, and Saroja's first meeting with him had proven this true. In the company of the children, his demeanor reversed itself. And the children, not normally shy to begin with, took to him at once. By the end of his first visit, they had him telling stories about hunting animals in Africa and South America. They'd talked about him for weeks afterward.

John could not explain it. He knew nothing about Englehorn's past or personal interests – his life revolved around the Venture and his work. On the water, he never mentioned the Ashfield family, but on his two subsequent visits, he had brought the children sweets and little wooden animal toys. When Saroja asked John about it, he simply smiled and shrugged and said, "The Germans like children; Englehorn is no different."

Whatever Englehorn's reasons, the children treated him like one of the family. As Saroja and Laura entered the living room, Paul and Mary jumped around him like wild monkeys. From the smile on his face, he didn't seem to mind. They broke away from him to show their mother the treats that Englehorn had brought them. His white captain's hat sat lopsided on Paul's head.

"Look, Mum!" the boy cried, waving a fistful of wooden soldiers. "They've even got guns and everything."

Mary pushed in beside him, holding up her cupped hands. "See the panda family, Mum? Aren't the little babies sweet?"

"They're lovely, children," said Saroja, taking Englehorn's cap from Paul's head, "but let's put them away for now. It's time to get along to bed and say goodbye to Daddy."

"But, Mum!" the children cried in unison.

"No arguments now," John called to them. He held Gilbert in his arms, half-asleep and drooling on his shoulder. "You have to behave like good children if you want the Captain to come back and tell you stories."

The children continued to grumble, but they obeyed, retuning to their father for hugs and kisses. In years past, they would have cried and clung to him, but his leave-takings had become a routine part of their lives. Their goodbyes to Laura were quick and perfunctory; they chattered about their new toys as they trotted down the hall to their bedrooms.

Saroja took Gilbert from John, returning Englehorn's cap as she did. "I'm sorry to cut the visit short, Captain, but I'm sure you understand."

"Of course, ma'am," he replied. "Growing children need their sleep."

As always, she felt herself flush a bit at his attention, though she could never understand why. Working with the Faradays, she had met dozens of charming, well-bred men, but none of them had had such an effect on her. Perhaps that low, disarming voice coming from such a rough exterior made him all the more intriguing. Or perhaps it was because he treated her like a woman – like a person – and not a subaltern.

"Will you be staying a while?" she asked.

"Englehorn and I have some things to discuss with Laura," said John.

"Could I make some coffee for you?"

John leaned forward and kissed the top of Gilbert's head. "That's alright, love. We won't be long. You don't mind if we take over the kitchen, do you?"

"Of course not."

Stepping out of the way, she watched the three of them cross the living room and go into the kitchen; John slid closed the partition. It muted their voices into low, indistinct sounds. She couldn't begin to guess what they were discussing, so she didn't try. It wasn't any of her business anyway.

She put the children to bed – her wonderful, beautiful children – and tried not to think about John leaving in the morning. But the long weeks of a half-empty bed troubled her mind with each warm cheek she kissed, and by the time she came back to the living room, she had to dry her eyes with a handkerchief.

The voices in the kitchen had not stopped, and Saroja did not want to interrupt them, so she sat down on the settee to work on a patch of one of Paul's shirts. The discussion went on for another half an hour before Saroja heard the chairs scrape away from the table.

The partition slid open, and John came into the living room. Behind him, Laura said, "It's a small matter. Miss Elmund and I can share a room."

"As it pleases you," said Englehorn.

"You will remember what I said about Beaufort?"

"I would find it difficult to forget."

"Have faith, Laura," said John. "Without Denham, Beaufort probably won't consider it worth the risk."

Saroja had no idea what they were talking about, but she knew Laura Ashfield well enough to see that she was not convinced. She pressed her lips together and said nothing more about it.

Instead, she turned to Saroja and said, "I hope we meet under happier circumstances next time."

"You're leaving already?" Saroja asked, setting aside the sewing.

"We've kept John long enough," Laura said with a smile.

Saroja embraced her, inhaling the sweet lavender scent of Laura's perfume. "Bring him home to me," she whispered.

Pulling away from her, Laura put her hands on Saroja's shoulders. "I will. I promise."

As she put on her coat and hat, Englehorn said, "May I offer to escort you back to your hotel, Miss Ashfield?"

Laura hesitated, frowning. "It's quite out of your way – the other side of the city."

"It wouldn't do to have one of my employers be unable to board tomorrow," Englehorn replied.

Her eyes narrowed, and she breathed in, preparing a retort. Saroja interrupted her, hoping to prevent a confrontation of two strong wills. She hated to see people fighting, particularly when she was fond of both parties.

"Won't you accept, Laura?" she asked. "Bombay's not as safe as it used to be."

The truth was that Bombay after dark had never been safe for a woman of Laura's social status, and everyone in the room knew it. The only problem was Laura's pride.

To Saroja's relief, she let it go. "Thank you, Captain. I will, of course, pay the cab fare."

Englehorn's face tightened under an affected smile. "Of course." To Saroja, he said, "It is always a pleasure to be in your lovely home, Mrs. Ashfield."

"Thank you, Captain. You are always welcome here."

He bowed his head. To John, he said, "On the morrow, Mr. Ashfield."

"Aye, sir."

Without another word between them, Laura and the Captain left the flat, and Saroja locked the door behind them.

John slid an arm around her waist. "Don't look so concerned. I wager it'll be a stalemate."

"What?"

"Laura and Englehorn. I haven't seen Laura so stony since Will forbid her to leave Bombay. And we know how well that turned out."

"She's worried about something," Saroja pressed. "And not just Sir Walter. What is it?"

"Nothing you need be concerned with." He tapped the end of her nose, which he often did when he wanted to keep her mind off something. "Now, then, what say we make an early night of it? I'll be up before the sun in the morning."

"You go ahead. I still have work to do in the kitchen," she said, moving away from him.

He grasped her hand and lifted it, kissing her palm. "It can waituntil morning."

She let himlead her to the bedroom, and she tried not to think about what must follow in the morning. Let tonight be sweet, she thought. For all the bitterness I must have in the coming months, let tonight be sweet.