A note to the reader. This story is written from the perspective of a young girl living in the 1880's. As such much of the language and descriptions relating to the body and sexual activity are those common to the time and not those you might be used to.
I make no claim to being an expert on India, its customs or its religions, so please accept it purely as the entertainment intended.
Indian Spice
ONE
The year was eighteen eighty-one and I'd started upon a great adventure that would change my life forever. Of course, at this point, I had no idea what lay in wait for me. I was naive and innocent even by my cosseted English standards. But I was also not without some bravery or the understanding of my necessity that left me with but one option to secure my future.
With the death of my husband from Cholera the summer before I'd found myself widowed after little more than a year of marriage.
He'd been a kind man if a little cold in affection. But then he had been a lot older than me and perhaps that was just his way. I was but a child at nineteen while George had been a mature man of the world in his early forties. His wealth and connections had dazzled me and, just as importantly, my widowed father, who'd been keen to see me wedded into a good family.
Within weeks of my marriage, I understood why he had been so keen when he was also taken by the good Lord.
And so it was that in the spring of that year I found myself alone and in desperate need of a long-term plan to avoid a slow decline into poverty. I had inherited a tidy sum, but not enough that without further income I could live for many years as I had done to this point. Furthermore, I was still young. Just twenty-two. I was not ready for life as a spinster. But there were so few suitors in my home country so I'd decided to do as many women had done and seek a new husband in the Empire where all the eligible bachelors were making their fortunes.
It was a brazen decision. I had no experience of life outside England. Little outside of Woking. To board a boat destined for a country I knew little about other than newspaper tales of heroism and imperial prestige was to many an undertaking of madness. But I embarked on it with relish.
My journey to India took three months, sailing from Southampton. An arduous time at sea with short stops at St Helena and Aden. For guidance, I had only a copy of the somewhat wordily titled book 'A Few Words of Advice on Traveling and its Requirements Addressed to Ladies'. I'd read it cover to cover several times by my arrival in Bombay. I also had my old Bible. Well worn, it had been a source of comfort for as long as I could remember.
I'd heard that sometimes ladies found shipboard romance. I was open to the idea, but it wasn't to be for me. Perhaps my shyness was a barrier as there was no shortage of eligible bachelors on board. Young gentlemen keen to find wealth with new business opportunities, others engaged in Her Majesty's duties of colonial administration or attached to the military. I felt confident once I reached my destination things would be different. Away from the stuffiness of England I would blossom and find myself more at ease.
Eventually, we docked in a noisy, busy Bombay and I embarked on the journey across land to my eventual destination. First I travelled by train, which were it not for the unbearable crowding of natives and the clear blue skies the engine poured its steam into, could have come straight from an English mainline. Next, I went on by horse-drawn carriage, much more happy in my own company.
India was how I imagined it in many ways. Such great numbers of people, the constant background babble of languages I didn't speak. Scavenging dogs that seemed to have no owners and cattle, herded along roads that were no more than trodden down dirt tracks. Several times I spied Elephants employed to clear new fields or as transport for dignitaries while their mahouts guided them. Only once had I seen one of these beasts. On a visit to the London Zoo as a child, I witnessed their resident elephant, Jumbo. A giant of a creature by all accounts, but here they seemed more majestic than ever.
India was also greener than I had expected. And wetter. Fields of rice, wheat and cotton stretched to the horizon. Amongst them were simple dwellings that housed farm workers. Just mud or unfired bricks with straw roofs. Bungha's I subsequently learnt they were called. Then in the towns, more substantial brick-built homes. And Colonial Government buildings filled with Indians working as clerks under the direction of British officials.
All of it fascinated a young girl like me. It was a world that had only existed in books and newspaper articles for me until then.
And then of course there was the unbearable heat and a constant annoying buzz of insects. There was also a smell that was distinctly foreign to me. An aroma of cooking fires laced with exotic herbs and spices, but also a stench of garbage, animal excrement and human urine. Most unpleasant.
I found lodgings with an English family. Just a room, while I took my meals with the older couple who owned the small homestead.
It was on the edge of a small but busy town and close to the garrison that provided ample employment for Indian servants and clerical staff. And it was there I hoped to find a future husband.
Few residents were English other than the soldiers. Just a handful of older couples like the Coolidge's, mostly ex-service who had decided to remain after leaving the army.
The food was a new experience. A mixture of English and Indian cuisine, all heavily spiced. It certainly wasn't unpleasant but it would take a while to become accustomed to such rich flavours and the abundance of rice in place of potatoes.
"I hope to find a position as a Governess and eventually perhaps a husband." I explained.
"There are many fine Officers at the Garrison who are in need of an English woman of good breeding. Perhaps you will find one there."
"I do hope so."
I'm not sure that Mrs Coolidge approved of my aims. Either she felt I was cavalier or perhaps mercenary, I was unsure which. But she didn't voice her opinions.
"The married officers with family and children here may also be interested in your services as a tutor." She added.
Mr Coolidge said very little. For that, I was pleased as I found him a little unsettling. I think the sight of a young lady in his home stirred feelings inside him that I'd rather not think about. The idea that he may see me as an object of desire was very unpleasant and raised memories of my duties as a wife to George.
Sex had been a chore to be undertaken perhaps weekly. I was naive but did my duty as he required. Mostly it was the same. I would lift my dress and remove my undergarments. Then as I sat on the side of the bed he would face me and hold my legs apart while he partook in that activity that men seemed to so enjoy. Occasionally he would ask me to face away and bend over. I'd support myself on the large chest at the bottom of our bed while he entered me from behind.
I can't say it was an unpleasant experience, but certainly, he found more pleasure in it than I did. I'd heard that it could be much more pleasurable for a woman than I experienced, but I put that down to rumour from the uninitiated and the imagination of street girls and trollops wishing to make their trade sound more exciting.
I just accepted that it was how it was and I was resigned that I would have to perform similar duties to my future husband when I found him. And of course, it would be especially necessary if I was to have a family. So far I hadn't been blessed which given my circumstances was not such a bad thing.
The Garrison held its first dance of my stay at the end of the month. Dressed in my most extravagant wear, I accompanied my Landlord and Lady on the short walk to the Garrison house.
It was a grand building of white Stone. Very imperial and imposing.
The sound of strings filled the grounds as we arrived. Well-dressed Indian servants greeted us and led us up the steps where a very posh-sounding gentleman announced us.
"Mr and Mrs Coolidge.
And Miss Rayne Phillips."
It sounded all very exciting and made me feel as though I was important, although I wasn't. I held my head high and entered the hall conscious of eyes upon me.
I spent the evening moving amongst the throng of people, mostly military, politely acknowledging anyone who looked my way while trying to catch the eye of any young man of suitable rank.
I had one or two ladies as competition I noted, but I was far prettier than them. That may sound pretentious but I was confident it was true. It didn't however, help me when it came to finding a dance partner. It seemed a demure composure was a hindrance and that I might need to be more outgoing if I was to be successful.
In the few days I'd been here I'd already become accustomed to the reality that there were two India's. The masses who lived simply, farming and tending their animals, and a much wealthier class that stood as equals with their British masters. Sometimes above.
The man I saw now was evidently the latter. A handsome, upright individual with bright attentive eyes and radiant complexion. He seemed to be studying me carefully as my gaze fell upon him.
I smiled back with a slight blush as he nodded an unexpected acknowledgement of me before turning away to talk to a high-ranking soldier.
It was then that I noticed I was being watched from another quarter. Not by one of the upright young military men as I had hoped, but by an elegant Indian woman. She certainly wasn't a servant and seemed to have a high position amongst the people here. Everyone that passed her gave deference. English and Indian alike. Almost as they might our dear Queen Victoria at a palace banquet. Not that I'd ever seen Her Majesty.
I wasn't so good at placing the ages of Native women, or indeed the men, but I guessed this lady was in her early to mid-thirties. Extremely beautiful with richly coloured clothes. Gold jewellery adorned her neck and wrists. Two fringe-style earrings hung just clear of long tied-back, black hair that gleamed with a natural sheen.
To my surprise she came over and stood next to me, making a show of looking out over the waltz being danced before us.
"It is an exquisite party wouldn't you say?"
She spoke well, excellent English with only a hint of accent.
"Yes, it is." I answered.
"Alas, I haven't been asked to dance yet."
"Beautiful ladies often scare young men away. They fear they aren't worthy enough."
