Tea and Spices (An Erotic Novel of Colonial India)

by Lane, Nina

  She thought about staying to talk things out with him. She didn’t even know where to go, let alone what to do next. In the end, she locked up two valises, picked up her portfolio, and headed out the door. Gerald would need time to recover and collect his own thoughts, and it was better that he do so without her there.

  Devora walked to the road and hailed a tonga. She climbed into the back, thinking there was really only one place she could go.

  “The Thompsons at the end of the road,” she told the tonga wallah.

  He nodded and began to peddle. Devora knew she was in for serious punishment, but she didn’t think the Thompsons would deny her request to temporarily stay with them. As it turned out, they didn’t, although they made no attempt to hide their shock and disapproval.

  “Really, Devora, this is a disgrace!” Mrs. Thompson gasped, pressing a hand to her abundant chest as if the news alone was a strain on her heart. “You and Gerald, separated? Does this have to do with the maharaja?”

  Devora sank down into a chair and sighed. She suddenly felt very tired. “No, Mrs. Thompson. I’d rather not discuss it, but I expect the news will be all around town by tomorrow. It has to do with our head servant, Rohan.”

  Mrs. Thompson’s eyes widened. “No.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  “My dear girl, you must be joking!” Mrs. Thompson’s eyebrows went up so high they nearly touched her hairline. “And Gerald is throwing you out of the house for that?”

  Devora gave her a confused look, exhausted by the events of the past few hours. “Shouldn’t he?”

  “Because a servant took advantage of you?” Mrs. Thompson replied. “Certainly not!”

  Comprehension dawned. “Oh, Mrs. Thompson, you misunderstand me. Rohan didn’t take advantage of me. Not at all.”

  “Then I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “We had an affair,” Devora explained. “Rohan and I.”

  Mrs. Thompson gasped in horror. “No!”

  Devora nodded. “Yes. If you’d rather I leave now, I’ll understand.”

  “My god, Devora! What on earth were you thinking?”

  “I really don’t want to discuss it,” Devora said. “Suffice it to say that Gerald found out. I expect he’ll want a divorce. Right now, he’s passed out drunk in the sitting room.”

  Mrs. Thompson’s mouth hung open in a perfect O. She sat rooted to her spot in shock, as if Devora’s revelation was more than she could take.

  “Devora, this is scandalous! I’ve always known you were a bit odd, but I never dreamed you would be capable of something like this! You’ll be the disgrace of the entire community! How could you do something like that? And with an Indian man, no less!”

  “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Devora said, her voice tight. “He’s an Indian man. If I’d been having an affair with…with John Fields, then everyone would simply turn a blind eye, is that it?”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake, Devora, of course it’s disgusting that he’s an Indian man. I mean, how could you? They’re so dirty!”

  Devora fought back a wave of anger. “Rohan is not dirty.”

  “Well, whether he was Indian or not, women are simply not to be unfaithful to their husbands.”

  “Oh no? You’d better start practicing what you preach, Mrs. Thompson.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “I know you’re having an affair with Major Cuthbert.” Devora stood and reached for her bags. “You know, I think I should find another place to stay.”

  Mrs. Thompson stared at her in shock for about the fourth time in the last hour. “Wh…how did…I’m not having an affair!”

  “Oh, sod it, Mrs. Thompson. I saw him screwing you against a wall the day I first met you at your garden party.”

  Mrs. Thompson gasped. Her face turned red with outrage as she sputtered, “How dare you speak to me like that, you little slut! You’ll be cast out of town with this scandal, you know that, don’t you?”

  “Well, good,” Devora retorted. “I’m tired of living here anyway. I love Calipore, but the British make me sick.”

  She started towards the door, only to be stopped by Mrs. Thompson’s voice.

  “Wait! Wait, Devora.”

  Devora turned to look at Mrs. Thompson. Regret fluttered through her as she realized she had truly shocked the older woman beyond all reason. Mrs. Thompson’s chest heaved as she began to hyperventilate, and her skin had taken on an odd, bluish tint. Devora set her bags down and went to pour a glass of water from the pitcher on the sideboard.

  “Here, drink this,” she said.

  Mrs. Thompson took the glass with trembling hands and drank down half the water. She leaned back in her chair and patted her damp neck with a handkerchief as she tried to breathe.

  “Better?” Devora asked.

  Mrs. Thompson took a deep breath and nodded.

  “I apologize,” Devora said. “I spoke without thinking, and I was very rude.”

  “Devora, I just can’t believe what you’re telling me,” Mrs. Thompson said. “You’re having an affair with an Indian man even after all the warnings we’ve given you!”

  “I’m not having an affair with him any longer,” Devora said. “Gerald dismissed him, of course. I believe he’s left already.”

  “My god.” Mrs. Thompson pressed the handkerchief against her forehead and closed her eyes. “This is all too much. What a disgrace.”

  “I’m sorry for having burdened you with it,” Devora said. “As I said, I’ll find another place to stay.”

  “No, no.” Mrs. Thompson took another drink of water and shook her head. “No one else will take you in once the news gets around, and you can’t possibly take a room in the village. Heaven knows what other Indian men will try to do once they hear you willingly gave yourself to one Indian man. For your own safety, you’ll have to stay here.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t want to cause problems for you. You have your own reputation to consider.”

  “My husband is the chief officer in this district and has been so for ten years,” Mrs. Thompson said. “I dare say our reputation can withstand an illicit affair, even if it is such a reprehensible one. Really, Devora, the whole thing is so utterly disgusting.”

  She stood and walked towards the back of the bungalow. “You can stay in our guest bedroom until you and Gerald work things out.”

  Devora couldn’t deny the fact that in spite of Mrs. Thompson’s horror and contempt, she was being decent about allowing Devora to stay.

  “Thank you. I do appreciate this.” She followed Mrs. Thompson into the bedroom and placed her valises next to the dressing table.

  “Yes, well, we don’t have much of a choice. I certainly can’t turn you out onto the streets.” Mrs. Thompson waved towards the chiffarobe. “You can hang your dresses in there. You’d better stay in here until I explain the situation to my husband. He is not going to be happy about this.”

  “No, I expect he won’t.”

  “I’ll bring you some tea and biscuits, but I don’t want you to come out until I tell you that you can.” Mrs. Thompson headed for the door, but then stopped and turned. “And, Devora?”

  Devora looked up from opening a valise. “Yes?”

  “Please don’t bring up Major Cuthbert in front of my husband. He will not understand.”

  “Of course not.”

  Mrs. Thompson nodded, pursing her lips slightly as she left the room. Devora unpacked her dresses and hung them up, then sank down onto the bed with a sigh. She felt as if every last shred of energy had been drained from her body. Her entire life had changed in the course of a few hours, although for better or worse she could not say.

  ***

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Devora sat next to Mrs. Thompson on the sofa. Gerald sat across from her, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped between them. He was staring intently at the floor, as if it would help him formulate his sentences.


  Devora gazed at him for a long moment. He looked horrible, as if he hadn’t slept or shaved in the last two days since his discovery of her betrayal.

  “I’m sorry,” Devora finally said, aware of distinct pangs of regret. “I know that means nothing to you, but I am. I didn’t want you to find out like that.”

  “Oh, but you did want me to find out,” Gerald replied bitterly. “Goddamn it, Devora. I thought you loved me.”

  Mr. Thompson, who sat in an overstuffed chair puffing on his pipe, reached out and put his hand on Gerald’s shoulder. “There’s no doubt, my boy, that she’s deceived you. But cursing her out will solve nothing.”

  “I did love you,” Devora said. “I wouldn’t have married you if I hadn’t.”

  “Then why in the hell did you have to go off and fuck…sorry, Mrs. Thompson…have an affair with a damn Indian?”

  “You did as well, I believe.”

  Mrs. Thompson set her teacup down on the table and stood.

  “I think it would be best if Reginald and I left you to your discussion,” she said. “This is between you. Come along, dear.”

  “We’ll just be out on the veranda,” Mr. Thompson said, as he followed his wife outside.

  Gerald ran a hand through his hair and gave a tired sigh. “All right, Devora, look. It’s common enough for British men to have Indian mistresses. The number of schools for Eurasian children is proof enough of that. But you know things are different for women! My god, Devora, everyone is already talking about you! They’re calling you a whore and a slut, not to mention a traitor.”

  “They can say what they like,” Devora said, realizing she wasn’t particularly disturbed by his words. She had never really cared what the British community thought of her. That, no doubt, would be her undoing.

  “Listen to me, Devora,” Gerald said. “I’ve given this some thought. I think we can work this out. If we claim Rohan attacked you and that you didn’t consent to an affair with him, we might be able to get through this. The only people who know the true story are the Thompsons. I’m sure they will help us cover it up.”

  “Oh, Gerald.” A rush of sadness swept over Devora. “I’m not going to claim that Rohan attacked me. He did nothing of the kind.”

  “Dammit, Devora, you have your reputation to consider!” Gerald snapped. “Not to mention mine! You’ll at least have a chance of salvaging it if you claim you were a victim. Everyone will believe you over an Indian man, regardless of how rebellious you are.”

  “Gerald, I’m not going to concoct a lie to cover up the truth,” Devora said. The mere idea of Rohan’s previous experience with a false rape accusation still made her nauseous whenever she thought of it. “I had a consensual affair with him. I refuse to accuse him of such a hideous act.”

  Gerald leveled a long look on her. “You realize this is the only chance you have of saving our marriage,” he informed her. “If you agree to do this, I will stick by you and let everyone know you have my support. If not, I have no choice but to divorce you.”

  “Then you have no choice,” Devora replied. “I’m sorry. I won’t lie like that.”

  With a mutter of frustration, Gerald stood up and began pacing furiously across the room.

  “What the hell are you going to do without me?” he snapped. “What, Devora? Where are you going to go? You’re nothing without me, you know that, don’t you? You can’t stay in Calipore, and you certainly don’t have the money for passage back to England.”

  “I don’t know what I’ll do,” Devora admitted. The thought was both terrifying and slightly thrilling. There had never been a time in Devora’s life when she didn’t know what the future held.

  “Devora, I think you need to seriously consider my offer,” Gerald said, his voice cold. “If you do, then you have a slight chance of salvaging both your reputation and our marriage. But if you let the truth get out, everything will be in shambles.”

  “Gerald, don’t ask me this again,” Devora said. “I will not accuse Rohan of anything, least of all rape.”

  Gerald eyed her suspiciously. “Are you trying to hide something? I can’t even believe you would willingly have an affair with an Indian. He hasn’t threatened you or anything, has he?”

  “Of course not. I simply won’t lie about the fact that I had an affair with him. If that makes me the disgrace of the British community, then so be it.”

  “You, hell,” Gerald said bitterly. “What about me? What happens to my reputation when people realize you decided to fuck a bloody servant?”

  “I’m sure everyone will be very sympathetic towards you,” Devora told him, struggling not to be irritated by his constant demeaning of Rohan. “As you said, I’m the one who is considered the whore and the slut. The British memsahibs will pity you greatly for having married me in the first place.”

  Gerald shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulders sagging as he appeared to realize this was the end.

  “Devora, you know I loved you,” he said. His voice cracked. “If you’d just cooperate, I think we can get through this.”

  Guilt lanced through Devora like a thousand needles, but she knew there was only one outcome to this situation. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Gerald. There’s nothing else I can do. I betrayed you, and I admit it.”

  “But we had a good marriage!”

  To Devora’s surprise, Gerald approached and went down on his knees in front of her chair. He stared at her with blood-shot, tired eyes that nearly broke her heart.

  “Didn’t we?” he asked plaintively.

  “Yes, of course we did.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “It’s not you, Gerald,” Devora said. She wrapped her hands around his and clutched them. “It’s my fault. You’ve always been good to me.”

  “Was it Kalindi? Was that when you decided to get revenge, after you’d realized the truth about her?”

  “No, it wasn’t for revenge. Kalindi had nothing to do with it.”

  “Devora, please, let’s work this out,” Gerald begged. He gripped her hands hard, looking completely defeated. “We’ll think of a story and call in the police commissioner right away. What does it matter if Rohan is arrested? He’s nothing, Devora, he’s just a servant. India has thousands of servants.”

  Devora pulled her hands away from his and shook her head again. She knew she was hardly a model of morality, but the thought of falsely accusing a man of assault was abhorrent to her. Particularly when that man was Rohan. An image of him flashed in her mind, his tall figure and piercing eyes. Her body reacted with a sharp pang of longing.

  “No, Gerald,” she said sadly. “I won’t do that. And I dislike you for even suggesting that I accuse an innocent man of a crime simply to save our reputations.”

  “Devora, it’s the only way to fix this mess!”

  “Then, this mess will have to remain broken, I’m afraid.”

  Gerald stared at her for a long minute. His mouth tightened into a thin, hard line as he pulled away from her. He nodded, standing up and brushing off his trousers.

  “All right, then,” he said. “This is your last chance, Devora. I will file for a divorce as soon as possible unless you change your mind.”

  “I won’t change my mind.” She couldn’t believe this was the end of her relationship with Gerald, that she was nailing the coffin shut, but she knew with everything in her things would never be the same again. That she would never be the same again.

  “Then our relationship is over.” Gerald picked up his hat, giving her one final look. And then he turned and strode out the door.

  “I simply don’t understand you.” Mrs. Thompson shook her head and began to butter a piece of toast. “You’re a very odd girl, Devora.”

  “Very odd, indeed,” Mr. Thompson agreed. “You’re what my mother would call a bad seed.”

  Devora bit her tongue to prevent herself from retorting. The Thompsons were being very accommodating about allowing her to stay with them, even if she did have t
o tolerate their constant contempt. She cracked open her soft-boiled egg and focused her attention on picking at the shell.

  “He’s just an Indian man,” Mrs. Thompson went on. “I mean, really, Devora, they are dispensable. It isn’t as if this country doesn’t have a million of them.”

  “You’re ruined now, you know that, don’t you?” Mr. Thompson sipped his tea and patted his mustache. “Corrupted. No decent British man will want you now.”

  “Good,” Devora replied, unable to help herself. “I don’t want a British man anyhow.”

  “Well, what on earth do you intend to do?” Mrs. Thompson asked. “I’m sorry, but you can’t stay here forever.”

  “I don’t know yet.” Over the past few days, Devora had begun to realize that her tenuous situation was cause for unease. She honestly had no idea what to do.

  However, a thought had been brewing in her mind since the previous night. She suspected it wouldn’t work, but she wanted to at least try. “Would you mind terribly if I borrowed your carriage for the morning? I need to run an errand.”

  “You shouldn’t go out, Devora,” Mr. Thompson said. “Everyone is utterly appalled by what you have done.”

  “This will only take a few hours,” Devora said. “I want to visit a friend who might be able to help me.”

  “Not that horrible servant, surely?”

  Devora bit her tongue to keep herself from snapping at them. “No, not Rohan.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Thompson exchanged exasperated looks. Then Mr. Thompson threw his napkin on the table and pushed his chair back.

  “Oh, all right, Devora. I expect there’s little else you can do that will damage your reputation any more than it already is.”

  Devora murmured her thanks and excused herself from the breakfast table. She went back to her room and fixed her hair, then powdered her nose and applied lipstick. After donning a flowered hat and gloves, she picked up her pocketbook and went outside.

  A servant waited at the carriage for her. He helped her inside, then swung up to the driver’s seat. “Where, memsahib?”