DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS
CHAPTER 8
India, December 1875
"I believe this concludes our business, Keshav."
The studious Englishman stood against the gray walls, presenting a rather pathetic display of British power. He was rather short in stature, but made up for it in his over-developed sense of self- awareness.
Quirky, blond hair hung loosely about his narrow face and his dull, gray eyes hardly showed any emotion at all. Nothing about the man seemed worthy of the attention he demanded, but he certainly expected it and let those around him know this with his arrogance.
"Lord Garrison, I will see to it that our arrangement is fulfilled on the last day of this month."
Romir Keshav had always been rather cowardly and accepting. He chose to compromise his standards and morals to keep from creating waves with those who had power over him; especially against the building British Empire in India…he wanted his place in it.
The two men had a great deal in common, although this fact was invisible to the naked eye. Douglas was a product of excellent British stock; the finest teachers that money could buy had schooled him, and he was considered quite a catch in the society gossip circles.
However, beneath the surface, Douglas was conniving and cruel. He over-indulged in wine, women, and pretty, young boys …if the mood struck him; which was quite often. Those who knew him, wished they did not; and all of them called him a weasel and a snake behind his back and smiled wincingly to his face.
Romir Keshav was made of the same ingredients, only he lacked the nerve to use his darkness to its fullest potential. Nevertheless, as fate would have it, these two crossed paths and a partnership was born…so to speak.
"I do not want any surprises, Keshav; I do not deal well with betrayal and I never leave loose ends…." the smaller man promised – his eyes narrowing dangerously, "…I do not intend to start now."
"I see no reason why things cannot happen as you have planned them, my lord."
Lord Garrison gave a sour smile and silenced Keshav with a lift of his hand.
"Do not patronize me; just see to it that you do your part."
Romir bowed his head in submission and clasped his hands together. This would be his sweetest deal yet…after years of making piddling amounts with the "games" he sponsored and arranged, he had finally come upon a man whose greed and debauchery matched his own.
He watched Lord Garrison leave and then turned toward the large cherry desk in the corner of the room. He sat down in the leather chair and propped his feet up on the desk. He wore a satisfied smirk, and a mirthless laugh filled the room; he cared not that his plans would ruin lives – it was a small, pitiful price to pay for the riches and power he would obtain.
Romir called for the servant to come to him. When the young boy appeared, his tone was rude and abrupt.
"Bring Sharad to me."
The young boy rushed off to deliver the message and Romir scoffed disgustedly. He had no place in his life for petty servants and people with problems. His dreams were on the verge of coming true.
He had once been an honorable man – years ago; however, the seducing song of greed and the power that money afforded him pulled him into a life devoid of conscience and regrets. His family had known little about the fire raging within him…and it had cost them – dearly.
A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts and he looked up to find his son standing before him.
"It is about time…could you be any slower?"
The disgusted tone was nothing new to Sharad; he had lived with his father's disappointment and disinterest for the greater part of his thirty – four years.
"You bellowed, father."
"Do not take that tone with me, young man…you would do well to bow to my every word."
Sharad sneered loudly, making his father writhe in anger.
"Why father…so you can turn me into a simpering, mindless tool of your depravity?"
Romir stood and looked up into the defiant eyes of his only son.
"Your insolence is becoming most taxing."
Sharad quirked a dark brow at his father's spiteful tone.
"What you see as insolence…I see as honesty."
Romir narrowed his black eyes and almost struck the handsome face of his son.
"You have never understood me, or what I do…the business that allowed you to attend the best schools, train in all the self-defense methods, and maintain a rich life."
Sharad laughed bitterly and turned from his father's condescending attitude.
"Business…is that what you call it?"
"You know nothing." Romir spat.
"I know enough to know that you are a murderer and a coward…that's all I need to know." Sharad spat back, feeling power surge through him as he spoke.
"I never murdered anyone…you half-wit."
The smirk that danced upon Sharad's full mouth was so beautifully malicious that Romir almost backed away from him.
"You may not have personally issued the killing blow or shot the final bullet…but you killed those men, Father…no one but you would hang for the crimes."
Romir felt one fleeting moment of panic fill his stomach, he wondered how much his son really knew - and whom he had told.
"I should kill you where you stand."
Sharad almost laughed at his father's threat…it wasn't the first – and it wouldn't be the last.
"I'd like to see you to try."
When had Sharad become such a threat to him? Romir had never been close to his son - or his daughter, for that matter – children were a complication he had not wanted.
He sighed loudly and managed to lift bored eyes to his son's handsome face.
"You will plan a ball for the end of the month."
Sharad raised his brow another time; his father hated such gatherings.
"For what possible reason would we throw a ball?"
Romir smiled; but hidden within his curved lips, Sharad saw the demon that was his father.
"For your sister, of course, I am to announce her engagement."
Sharad's features went completely blank and the color drained from his face.
"What?"
Romir watched with elation as his son tried to decipher what he had just heard.
"Yes, she will wed Lord Douglas Garrison on the 31st of this month." His tone was one of pride and greed, "A smart match, if I do say so myself."
Sharad seethed, filling his heart with a festering hatred such as he had never known before.
"He is a disgusting, demented man…you cannot bind Lavanya to him - it will kill her!"
"I would and I have…'tis a done deal, Sharad…you should be happy for her." He smiled wickedly, "Besides, she is getting too old and no man wants a woman who thinks too much…I am doing her a favor."
Sharad advanced on his father, fury oozing from every pore in his body.
"This is low father, even for you."
Romir continued with his thoughts, ignoring Sharad's statement.
"This union will allow me access to his magnificent resources – he is a man who shares my particular interests and his greed surpasses my own."
Sharad knew exactly of what his father spoke. Douglas Garrison had no scruples – the man cared not for the people he had to go through to get to where he was going. The "games" his father had petitioned long ago would be back…and with Garrison's financing – even more deadly than before.
"Did you ever love us…ever?"
Romir shrugged his shoulders and then smirked without remorse.
"I do not think I am capable of giving or showing love….nor are any of you worthy of it."
There was nothing left to say and Sharad left the presence of his father feeling more determined than ever that he had to get Lavanya out of India…he had been considering it for some time. His father's sick plan had escalated his determination and Sharad was a man who got things done.
He stormed away from this father's loathsome presence and made his plans.
♣♥♦♠
Several days later, he awaited her arrival with anticipation. He scanned the crowds that had just exited the train, and found his sister's face amongst them - his smile was effervescent and she responded in like form.
"Oh Sharad, you are certainly a sight for sore eyes…how are you?"
Lavanya pulled him toward her for a long, sisterly hug and kissed his cheek. They were as close as any siblings could be.
She had only been gone for a few weeks, but Sharad realized just how much those weeks had changed her. She was preparing for life as an independent woman, having not found a man who appreciated her rare intelligence nor her sensual desire for dancing.
"I am fine, little sister…and look at you…"
He spun her around as though doing the waltz and admired the grace and elegance she seemed born to wear; gone was the awkward, scrawny girl of years past – in her place was a woman of exotic and rare beauty.
"…you are exquisite!"
She curtsied and then lifted smiling eyes to him.
He packed her things into the carriage and prepared for the two-hour trip to their home.
"Tell me all about it…how is our aunt Selvi?"
Lavanya rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose, a trait that Sharad found very endearing.
"Tiresome….determined to marry me off – she thinks I am becoming a spinster – an old maid! She paraded the young men in front of me at every opportunity!"
"Let me guess…they were all a complete bore."
Lavanya giggled and nodded her head.
"Complete bores!"
Sharad laughed and caressed her cheek.
"Come now, it could not have been that bad."
She scoffed and daintily rolled her eyes.
"Men who are complete and devoted gentlemen are complete and utter bores…give me a man who is a bit of a rake; slightly damaged….he is the man that will steal my heart."
She saw the light go out in Sharad's eyes and wondered what he knew that she did not. Her smile faded and the jesting tone in her voice diminished.
"What is it, Sharad?"
He tried to fake a smile, but he wasn't very good at it and she saw the trepidation in the corners of his eyes.
"Whatever happens, Lavanya; just know that I have your best interests at heart – no matter what father does. I will take care of it."
She frowned, not knowing why he had a sudden change of mood.
"I know you will, Sharad…you always do."
Despite her wishes to the contrary, she still lived in a man's world; she would have no money or means of support once she left her father's house. Sharad had a good income and money of his own, but his assets were mostly in property and material goods.
There was no way that she would accept being a burden to Sharad; she had to marry. She had resolved herself to that fact - but no man had made her heart beat faster or her tummy flutter with anticipation; and she had hoped to not have to settle for anything less. However, there comes a time when dreams must end.
She had never bowed, Sharad thought, never given in and become a whimpering female who lamented the loss of her childhood – or the loss of her individuality. She was the strong one…out of the two of them…she was definitely the strong one.
"I loathe the idea of becoming some pompous Englishman's proper, dutiful wife – lying beneath him as he uses my body for amusement – westerners have no concept of a woman's needs and Indian men want a docile dove as a wife – neither of them put her needs above their own…" Lavanya's voice was full of disdain and deep-seeded hatred, "…if father has his way, I'll be popping out baby after baby until my husband has had his fill and moves on to some younger woman."
She refused to cry…tears had run their course two years ago when her father had told her his intent…when her dreams had died before ever seeing the light of day. It served no purpose being a woman in a man's world - no purpose but their purpose.
"…I would slit my wrists before I would let some insipid dandy touch me…
"You knew of Father's plan…" Sharad whispered, "…all this time…you knew."
She leaned toward him in the rumbling carriage and smiled sadly.
"Why do you think he sent me away…he needed me to be 'properly instructed' on the ways of a woman..." her tone was sarcastic and caustic, "…how to please a man – in bed and out…"
She looked up into Sharad's deep, dark eyes and spoke with heated conviction.
"…he will have to get me in bed first – then there are numerous things I can do – and none of them pleasant."
Sharad reared back and cringed. The idea of the damage a scorned woman could do was frightening…he hurt just thinking about it.
She suddenly smiled, knowing she had made him immensely uncomfortable.
Sharad took her slender, petite hands in his and lifted them to his lips for a kiss.
"I rather missed your stubborn, independent streak…it is so unlike a typical Indian woman…" his eyes twinkled with mirth, "…and it drives father crazy…I support anything that will do that."
Lavanya yawned; Sharad pulled her over to him and she rested her head in his lap.
"Rest, sweet sister, we will talk later."
♣♠♥♦
Romir was seething. He despised education women. He stood rigid and cold as he observed the woman that his daughter had become.
His late wife had seen to it that Lavanya was schooled, against his wishes, when he was gone for long periods of time. He had made in quite clear that no daughter of his was going to be educated to the level of a man.
Of course, that hadn't stopped Henna from going against his wishes and making his daughter into the scourge of Indian society. Men wanted docile, gentle wives – not mouthy, open-minded, opinionated wives. Lavanya was everything that Indian men and the English aristocrats, at least the ones with deep, heavy pockets, did not want.
He had managed to secure a very lucrative marriage for her and she was arguing the particulars with him; how dare she!
"You will do as you are told, and we will not speak of this again!"
Nothing Romir could have said would have been more of a catalyst for disagreement than those words. Lavanya narrowed her blue/green eyes, a gift from her maternal grandmother, and defied him with a silent, deadly stare.
"No man will ever own me, father, no man….you have tried and you have failed – thanks to mother."
"She is dead and you are my daughter…I say you will marry Lord Garrison and you will – in two weeks."
He assumed the discussion was closed and turned his back on her. He felt a surge of adrenaline spike through him…he controlled her – and every evil thing in him fed off that knowledge.
He turned to give her one last stare before leaving. She stood erect and proud – showing no fear of him, and he did not intimidate her…if Romir had been any other father, he would have been proud; instead, her courage sickened him.
He spun away from the sight of her, proceeded through the door, and slammed it behind him; thinking he had handled that situation very well.
After he left, Lavanya felt the cold, frigid trail of tears creep down her caramel skin. He had always shown her nothing but hatred and revulsion. Even Sharad had not escaped their father's wrathful, evil ways.
She was twenty-four years old – almost twenty-five, past the age of fanciful thinking and waiting for the perfect man to sweep her off her feet. Men did not come around anymore…she was too much of a liability with her sharp wit and educated thinking; despite her legendary beauty.
It wasn't that she did not want to marry, but what was wrong with a little danger or darkness to keep the journey interesting? She would not hang around India and marry some pasty, lusting aristocrat with no idea of how to treat a woman – in the bedroom or out of it.
She hated feeling trapped or indebted to anyone, especially her father. She sank into the soft, leather couch and hung her head in frustration. She balled her fists, squeezing until the circulation ceased and a tingling sensation rushed through her arms.
This was how Sharad found her. He walked up behind her and placed his hands softly on her shoulders, knowing that she had sensed his presence.
"Come, Lavanya, take a walk with me in the gardens."
She stood, suddenly feeling defeated and worn. Sharad took her hand and led her out of the portico door and down into the garden.
"I needed to speak with you…somewhere father does not have ears."
Lavanya looked up into her brother's warm, black eyes. He was her constant companion; he had been since she had been born. She never felt unsure of herself or unworthy in her brother's eyes – he encouraged her progressive thoughts and strong sense of self.
They sat down on the ornate bench that rested among the aromatic flowers that bloomed in the cool season of Bangalore. They were rugged and strong – enduring the bitterness that could come when the sun when down…much like India herself.
"I have never known a man with such disguised cruelty."
Lavanya's pained whisper made Sharad's insides balk. She deserved to live her dream and pursue the life she wanted, not become some porcelain pawn for their father to bargain with.
"To the others who know him he is the perfect family man; he loved his tortured wife until the her last breath left her body, he dotes on his children and their accomplishments, he is a devout, church going man…"
Her voice trailed off and a spiteful smile, devoid of any humor, crossed her lips.
"…I will not do it, Sharad; I will not marry that snake of a man."
He pulled her to him, encasing her in his strong arms – hoping to shield her from the reality that was quickly reigning down on her.
"If there were a way out….would you take it, and never look back?"
Her head shot up and she searched his face for some evidence of guile or jest; but there was none.
"You are not teasing me, are you?"
"Would you…just answer that for me?"
His voice was dead serious and she knew he had a plan brewing behind those dark, brilliant eyes.
"To escape a marriage to that man – and put a stop to Father's sick plans…" she felt her heart wrench as she said it, "…yes, I would take it – even if it meant leaving India and abandoning all that I love."
Sharad rested his hands on hers and spoke quietly; he did not want to risk anyone getting suspicious.
"Every few words or so, I want you to laugh, as though I have told you a wonderfully amusing story…use every ounce of the actress in you and make it look real."
She understood, they were being watched.
Romir watched them from the portico – detesting their sibling bond. If he had never had children, he would have been a happy man; but Henna had been such a beauty – he had known that he had to have her.
Looking at Lavanya just made him think of Henna and he hated her even more for that. She would soon be Lord Garrison's problem…and the sooner, the better.
He listened to her lilting laughter and it cut through him like a sharp blade. He wouldn't miss that when she was gone – too many painful thoughts accompanied memories of Henna. He wondered what magic words Sharad produced to make her smile like that.
Sharad was aware of his father's hard, piercing stare, but he did not falter in his quest to free Lavanya.
"He is a bit of a scoundrel and has few scruples when it comes to the laws of the sea, but he can be trusted, and the best thing is, he is protected under the flag of France."
Lavanya listened to her brother speak of this man, this privateer, and determined that there was a side to him that she had never seen before.
"His name is Captain Trace Delamater, he will get you to the shores of France; from there I will have ground transportation arranged."
A stricken look crossed her features and Sharad knew what she was thinking.
"I will join you later, I promise – but someone must be here so that a story can be told…one he will believe; it is already in motion…trust me."
"How do you know this man?"
He shrugged his shoulders and then smiled.
"My position in the Maharajah's court has afforded me the opportunity to meet many people – some of them a slight shady and dark, but they are the ones that get the job done."
She chuckled at his words, knowing it was his loyalty to the Maharajah that wore on their father's nerves the most.
"I have no one in France, Sharad, where will I go…what will I do?"
He sighed in relief and squeezed her hands in assurance.
"If you will have him, I have arranged a marriage for you…" her eyes searched his and Sharad almost lost his nerve - but this had to be done "...you have seen him before - many years ago."
Lavanya searched her mind for any recollection...there was a distant memory...
"You were almost eleven when he escaped India…but he was my closest friend for almost ten years. You were only a year old when I was amazed by him – his genius, his skill, the way he killed with such elegant brutality and brilliant proficiency…"
Lavanya was transfixed by the description Sharad was giving her. She remembered a young man that used to walk beside Sharad in the moonlight. The figure has been tall and lean, rippled with defined muscles, and had walked with the saddest grace she had ever seen.
She had never seen his face; a black domino mask covered what she had seen. His voice had permeated the thick darkness and coated her soul with its deep, rich, black silkiness; oh yes, she remembered this man.
"…his name is Erik…and it is to him that I send you."
She gasped in surprise, "Sharad, he was a killer...one of Father's toys..."
Sharad had hoped she wouldn't remember that, but it was apparent that she did."He had no choice – it was his life or theirs…I regret that you know anything about Father's depraved behavior."
Lavanya shook her head, letting him know that she understood that this man, to whom he sent her, was the only way – the only way out.
"How will he know to find me?"
"Trust me, I have covered all angles…you need only board the ship in the wee hours of tomorrow morning. Take nothing with you but the clothes on your back and a small bag with a few necessary items."
"Am I to escape one prison only to be thrust into a different one?"
Her concern was well founded and Sharad could only give her what he knew of Erik.
There was a bitter curtness in her tone – there was no way that Sharad would allow her to reside in a foreign country without the protection of a man's name to ensure her safety.
Sharad shook his head and smiled nervously. Her eyes were pools of murky water and Sharad knew she was angry.
"You know it must be done. All I can tell you is that the Erik I know is an honorable and principled man…what he does, he does because he must."
He embraced her again, trying to calm the fear that he knew was beginning to enter her mind.
"I got him out of India fourteen years ago…he was barely twenty-one when he left. He promised me that if there was ever anything he could do for me, all I had to do was ask and it would be done…the time has come for me to ask."
Hot tears poured down her face. The evil disgusting prison her father had arranged for her was what she had to escape – she would do anything to never be touched or looked upon by that devious monster, Lord Garrison.
Sharad knew her desire to marry out of love, but he also knew that marriages seldom began with love…it usually followed – at least, some of the time. In addition, he knew she wanted children, badly.
She refused his embrace at first; angry for being forced into this position.
"I will do as you ask, Sharad; and I will do what I must…" she dropped her head and thought about her future, "…marry – it is the way things are done."
What could she say of this plan…her brother was getting her out – and she had to sacrifice India and her dreams to make it work. She could not, and would not, be the pawn in a play of power and money that her father had taken on with the English dog to whom he had gambled away her freedom.
"How soon before you can join me?" She asked in a softer tone.
"Several weeks, maybe a few months at the most; but I will find you."
He gave her the pier number and the flower to wear in her hair; Captain Delamater would be waiting for her and she would finally be free.
TBC