You should read up on Hugh Elliot, the real acting governor of modern-day Chennai in 1815. Absolute badass individual, and his son, featured here and taken "romantic" liberties with depicting, died in 1826 with little written about him. Cheers!
Winter 1815
"You are quite certain? You have been here only barely half a year; to return now seems but a waste."
Anthony looked up from the elaborately inscribed tome held in hand to his companion. Handsome in his own right, with skin bronzed from time spent exploring the city's streets and countryside surrounding it, the acting governor's son, Hugh Maximillian Elliot, moved to lean against the pillar next to the street vendor's cart. He had seen through Anthony's grief and swatted aside Anthony's efforts to remain as a lone wolf, alone in his angst and misery, nearly from the moment they'd been introduced at the governor's residence near the first of his arrival in Madras Patnam. Like his namesake, Hugh Maximillian was brash and outspoken, tenacious and loyal, yet with a romantic, melancholic streak that snuck its way through the oft impulsive exterior in the right context. In the span of their acquaintance, Anthony had seen all of those traits displayed, in various degrees, and had come to love and respect the man as near a brother as he had, and still did, Simon Basset.
"I am resolved. My sister's letter did not disclose all the details, but what she left out my mother alluded to, and with the two in hand, I can only conclude that my brother Benedict requires assistance." Anthony signaled the vendor for another option, handing back the one tome in exchange for another. "And it is high time I resume my familial duties, as yet another sister declared in her letter. She did not leave out details or make allusions. She has never had difficulties expressing her true thoughts with me." He continued explaining to Hugh as his eyes traveled over the details of the elaborately decorated book.
Hugh's overly exaggerated sigh brought a smile to Anthony's lips, though he continued his perusal and for the time being, ignored his friend's efforts to draw his attention away.
"And what of the other matter?"
Anthony's movements stilled. He continued to stare at the book now clutched in white-knuckled fingers, but he did not see it. Instead, he saw Kate's smiling face overlapped by her bloodied visage when he'd carried her home on that terrible morning. The "other matter" Hugh was referring to was regarding Anthony's coming to terms with Kate's passing, resigning himself to living life without her by his side in the flesh, and somehow finding the resolve within him to return home intending to do his duty to his family and marry another. Both he and Kate had given in to the desire for self-indulgence, momentarily satiating their overwhelming desire for one another, only for Kate to flee from what they had done and die for it. Of course, Anthony could not be certain that was why she had chosen to so recklessly ride through the park the morning after their lovemaking, but what he knew of his lost love pointed to nothing else but that.
Anthony knew it would be continued self-indulgence to maintain his bachelorhood, living his life in mourning for the wondrous creature he'd been blessed to have known and loved. It would crush his mother's heart if he chose that path and potentially ruin his siblings' aspirations in society. And beyond that, Anthony knew in his heart that Kate would not want him to continue living in the past, forgetting to live for himself or for the future he could build. Those rational acknowledgments did nothing for the pain that continued to knot up in his gut whenever he rolled over and grasped at an empty pillow, tasting his own tears even as he imagined hearing her laughter.
Anthony cleared his throat of the sudden lump and readjusted his stance, handing back the almost-forgotten book and signaling for a third to inspect. "I visited her relations in Bombay and paid my respects as best I could, considering the delicate context of our relationship and her passing. And I am presently looking for a present for her sister, Edwina, who I heard from my sister is engaged and currently residing in London as arrangements are being made."
"That, dear boy, does not answer my question. You have a nasty habit of supplying useful information for everything except the central matter. And the central matter in question is that of whether you can handle returning to England just now." Hugh had the audacity to look pleased with himself when Anthony finally threw a glare in his direction. "I will not remind you of how atrocious your behavior was when you first arrived, how you were barely fit even for impolite society of Madra Patnam streets, so wrapped up in yourself you were. No, I do not need to remind you of such things, for now you are subverting your pain beneath familial responsibilities, and I fear you will reach the end of your days without resolution to the severed threads in your soul." Pushing away from the pillar, Hugh dropped coin into the vendor's hand, plucked a book from the cart, and shoved it into Anthony's hands. "The threads need not come to an end, Anthony. They may be interwoven with others and continued, making up the tapestry of your life."
Anthony glanced at the book's title but tipped his head in question at Hugh, not understanding the letters.
"It is a collection of local folk tales. You said the younger sister was a fan of fairy tales, no?" Anthony mutely nodded, earning a satisfied smirk from Hugh. "There you go. Now, if you are so resolved to leave, we have arrangements to make and not much time to make them. The shipping lanes are suffering from this uncharacteristic weather, and I fear it may be a devil of a time finding you passage out of here before the middle of next year if we do not act soon."
Anthony allowed himself to be dragged away by Hugh, his mind reeling from both what Hugh had spoken aloud and what vulnerable parts of his own heart had echoed. Was it ever safe to have hope?