ChapterTwenty
The whole world seemed to tip slightly as Priya’s father stared Francis down and uttered that one, devastating syllable. No. No, he would not allow her to break free of a marriage she had not participated in. No, he would not allow her to pursue the life she wished for with the man she loved. And no, he did not think of her own happiness in making his decision, he thought only of himself and his traditions.
It was too much to bear, and she turned away from where she had been holding Francis’s arm to glare at him.
“You dare to say no when it is my very life at stake, Father?” she asked, letting her emotion show fully in her voice, whether it was seemly in front of such a crowd as the one that filled the ballroom or not. “You would disregard my lifelong happiness to salvage your pride?”
“Priya,” her father snapped. “That is not what this is about at all. These things are done in a certain way. Your marriage to Jogendra Dev Raikut has been promised for more than a decade. You cannot allow some Englishman to turn your head with silly dreams.”
“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Pankhurst said, stepping forward. The crowd gasped and murmured, making way so that she could walk up to Priya’s side. “Are you telling me that this charming and intelligent woman had a marriage contracted for her when she was just a child?”
Priya had to fight the sudden, paradoxical urge to laugh. There was nothing amusing about the situation at all, but her emotions had reached the point where they could barely be contained and needed to come out in some fashion.
She turned to Mrs. Pankhurst, her blood racing over the unexpected opportunity her father had given her not only to stand up for herself, but to support the cause she believed in so deeply.
“You see?” she said. “This is why the work that you do to advance the cause of women is so important. This is why it is necessary that women here in England and abroad are given a vote, given the chance to have a say in their own futures. The alternative is for young girls, like I was, to be promised to whomever their father chooses for them.”
She turned to gesture to Jogendra, but rather than simply making him an example in the argument she hoped everyone around her was taking to heart, she was struck by the expression of compassion and…and was it pride in Jogendra’s eyes?
“Miss Narayan, this evening you have given us a living example of the vitality of our cause,” Mrs. Pankhurst said, all seriousness, addressing Lady Vegas’s guests. “One would hope that even the most reticent soul can now see why votes for women is crucial to the future happiness of the nation.”
“Hear, hear,” Francis added, but Priya could see that he was bristling with the tension that surrounded him—tension from the only issue that truly mattered to him. He turned to her father. “Will you relent, sir?” he asked. “Now that you have seen that it is not just your pride at stake, but the happiness of your witty, sharp, and influential daughter and the future of womankind in general?”
Priya held her breath, hoping the moment had been enough to sway her father. But her father looked furious and embarrassed more than anything else, as if the spectacle in front of him had caused an even greater shame than her defying him in public alone. The horrible feeling that they’d gone too far and risked too much made her lightheaded all over again.
Sure enough, with his furious eyes fixed firmly on her, her father stepped forward, raising his hand as if he were about to start a lecture, and opened his mouth.
But before he could, Jogendra surged forward and grabbed her father’s arm, forcing him to lower it.
“Now, now, Jitendra,” he said with all the light-spirited joviality that Jogendra had always possessed. “A good general knows when he has lost the war and retreats gracefully so that he can marshal his forces and use them for a greater cause.”
Priya blinked and pressed a hand to her stomach. She glanced to Francis, who was also gaping at Jogendra as if he couldn’t believe what the man had just said. Even her father dragged his furious gaze away from her to blink at his friend.
“What are you saying?” he demanded. “Are you saying that you wish your wife to end up in the arms of another man? That you would break the alliance we have made?”
Some in the crowd gasped as they put together a few of the pieces, perhaps guessing the wedding had already taken place. Most just waited, as Priya and Francis did, with bated breath.
Jogendra smiled and gestured to Priya and Francis. “They are in love Jitendra,” he said in a calm, reasonable voice. “Anyone can see it. You let your daughter go when you sent her here to England to be educated. Surely, you must know that. Some part of you must have understood that she was not like other women, that she is a bird of paradise that needs to spread her wings and fly to where her heart tells her she should be. If you truly wished to clip her wings and keep her as a pet in your garden, you never would have allowed her to come here.”
Her father looked irritated by Jogendra’s argument and turned to face him. “You were the one who wanted her to be educated.”
Jogendra smiled. “Because I saw who she was as she grew, my friend. You must have as well. You could have said no and kept her in your palace, preparing her to be a wife. Instead, you defied convention and expectation and sent her to the other side of the world to attend college.” He sent her father a look that challenged him to deny whatever prompted that decision.
Priya’s father glanced to her. For a change, instead of anger or hurt at her defiance, his eyes shone with love. “I did not expect to lose her to an Englishman.”
“You haven’t lost me, Father.” Priya stepped away from Francis long enough to approach her father. “You will lose me if you demand that I return to Koch Bihar with you. An ocean might not separate us if I am there, but a chasm of resentment will. You know I love Francis. You know that I have grown and learned so many things. If I stay in England, we may be separated by miles, but the love we have always had for each other would be encouraged and grow. And being educated means that I know how to write letters,” she said, adding a cheeky grin to her words.
Her father’s expression broke completely into affection and regret. He raised a hand to cradle her face. “But I would miss you, beti,” he said. “I do miss you.”
“Missing someone only makes those moments when we are together sweeter,” she said. She turned to Francis, reaching out a hand to him. He took it and stepped forward. “The pain of being parted from someone forever is so much worse. Would you have me miss my heart for the rest of my life?”
Her father let out a sigh, but it was Jogendra who said, “Let them be together, my friend. I can find another wife at home, one who would be with me gladly instead of reluctantly. And besides, until I find such a woman, I will have Lord Vegas there to entertain me.” He extended an arm toward Lord Vegas, who was lurking near the side of the room, watching the entire scene sullenly.
At Jogendra’s gesture, and the slew of eyes that were suddenly on him, Lord Vegas straightened and glanced around anxiously. “I…I have done nothing,” he said. “Do not look at me in such a way.”
A few people chuckled, but mostly, it seemed that everyone in the ballroom wanted an answer to the original question Francis had asked.