June 24

London

Spent the day trudging through the haberdasheries of Bond Street with Raul. I am exhausted! How do the ladies do this day in and day out? Boggles my mind. Anyway, Raja, noble instincts rising to the fore, decided he required a completely new wardrobe of latest English fashion. So, yesterday he inquires of William as to the best places to shop. William jumps up with unveiled enthusiasm, proceeding to jot down the finest establishments London has to offer. Raja is flushed with happiness, eyeballing William's impeccably clad figure with obvious hankering. William, while ostensibly addressing Raja, is glancing pointedly toward me and offering graciously to arrange an appointment with Mr. Renault, his personal tailor. Elizabeth met my raised eyebrow with a barely hidden laugh. Her face is so expressive!

Oddly, that particular afternoon I was wearing my most demure salwar kameez, the beige one with turquoise trim. He should be thankful I left all my dhotis behind in India! Even I did not think the English public prepared to view my legs unbound by trousers. Nevertheless, I suppose there is a logical point to my nephew's unspoken plea. All the English suits I own are woefully outdated and threadbare. I imagine there may be the occasional soiree or festivity where a proper suit will be necessary. So, alas, I did the unthinkable and allowed Raja to drag me from shop to shop, endured two hours of measuring and clucking tongues from Mr. Renault's assistants. Raja nearly bought out each establishment, any initial contempt expressed at his dark skin and accent rapidly evaporated by the wad of cash displayed. I, on the other hand, purchased lightly, acquiring only four suits and sundry accoutrements. How I will ever survive a choking cravat is frankly beyond my comprehension. Ah, the extents we will go to for love of family!


June 26

London

Raul and I reported to Company headquarters, signed the obligatory documents, and spoke with the Director (a Mr. Allison now). He was not too pleased that we refused to give a definite date for our reenlistment, or even if we will. Apparently Raja's reputation has preceded him, with his services in prime demand. This thrills me, not only because I trained him but because his skills truly are astounding and I am delighted to see this recognized. I was a bit surprised that Raja demurred regarding his conscription, he having not alluded to any uncertainty in his future. I chose to leave the subject alone for the moment, Raul mature enough to make his own choices. Whatever his decisions for the future, I am confident he will do well.

Met William and Col. Fitzwilliam for luncheon and spirits at Estad's Saloon. I cannot believe the eatery is still standing. I remember the first time I ate there: I was thirteen, still mourning Alex, and Father decided to treat me to a gentleman's outing as a way of cheering my gloominess. Additionally he thought that I was finally capable of playing the part of a gentleman. Ha! So Pearson, James's valet, dressed me in my Sunday finery complete with pocketwatch and fancy fob as well as a walking stick that I dearly wanted to wave about and poke people with, but resisted the urge! The simple fear of what my father would do to me not worth the fun I might have had. Anyway, James was in his final year at Cambridge, joining us for a few weeks while in Town for the season, and I recall that I did feel vainly dashing and arrogantly mature squired about with my distinguished father and dandified older brother. I honestly do not recollect the food served, but the atmosphere was awe inspiring to a thirteen-year-old. James acted all sophisticated and snobbish while winking at me when Father was not looking. Yes, fun times.

Of course, I have since dined at Estad's many times, although it has been a few years. Impeccable and delicious as ever. Delightful afternoon, especially as with just the four of us I had my first real opportunity to communicate intimately with my nephew. We were there for hours, sipping excellent red wine from France and engaging in lively discourse. Naturally we were approached by a dozen fellow diners who knew William. He departed the establishment with four additional commitments to the already busy schedule of him and Elizabeth. I only knew Lord and Lady Standish. He was a crony of James's who visited Pemberley a time or two with his wife; she was a dear friend of Anne's. We spent a few minutes reminiscing.

This evening William and Elizabeth have a planned engagement at the Countess von Lieven's salon. To my incredible shock, an invitation arrived yesterday for Raja and me. I suppose I should not be too surprised by the infamous Countess knowing all that goes on in the city, but why she would extend an invite to two traveling physicians is beyond my comprehension. Nevertheless, even I would be foolish to pass up an opportunity to meet the famous woman herself, so Raja and I will attend.


June 28

London

Been a couple busy days. First I must describe the evening at Countess von Lieven's salon. I contemplated wearing one of my new suits, but decided that if it was exotic foreign gentlemen the Countess wanted, then so be it! Yet to compromise and not embarrass my formal nephew, I wore my finest sherwani of grey wool. I figured that if it was acceptable for official British East India Company affairs, then it should serve. I even topped it off with matching fez, quite dashing if I say so myself. I know you would have appreciated it, Jharna, as it was the outfit you gifted to me on my fiftieth birthday. Of course, I do think it was primarily out of your desire to see me properly attired for one of your father's ceremonies! I digress, however.

The Lieven mansion on St. James's Place was stupendous, as expected. All the lights were lit, some, to my astonishment, created with gaslight! The glow was incredible, the entire Square lit as if noontime. Even though it was well after the dinner hour, the Square was bustling with nearly every house plainly hosting some soiree or ball. The Ambassador's dwelling was no exception. The door was standing open with footmen checking invitations as folks freely walked in and out. Music and laughter from within was audible without. It was so hectic and boisterous that I find it difficult to describe with any clarity.

The whole concept of salons, as popularized by the forward Frenchwomen with designs of intellectual conversation amongst artists and philosophers, has evolved with the Countess into a place to influence political matters. Much of the former reigned here as the evening's guests included writers William Wordsworth, Percy Bysshe Shelley, and Leigh Hunt, and artists John Constable and J.M.W. Turner, among others I did not have the chance to meet or was unfamiliar with. Elizabeth gravitated to the artists, clearly enamored by Mr. Wordsworth and Mr. Constable. The latter, especially, as apparently she and William have recently viewed an exhibition of his works, purchasing two paintings.

I confess with shame that I was astonished at how easily Elizabeth mingled with the plethora of dignitaries and their wives. As I have written, I am delighted with William's felicity and good sense to marry a woman of true value. Nonetheless, aware of Elizabeth's provincial upbringing, and having had minimal opportunity thus far to talk to her seriously, I did not quite fathom how intelligent she is. Clearly William was somewhat surprised as well. Even from his perch across the room, while discussing politics with several members of Parliament including Earl Charles Grey and George Canning (would love to have been privy to that discussion!), I noted his eyes often on his engaging wife with immense pride but mild amazement. I guess I can read William so easily as his face is so like my father's, and mine to a great extent. Quite uncanny to view another who is nearly a mirror image, but I am digressing yet again!

Elizabeth did not appear the slightest bit nervous. Perhaps that is innocence to a degree, but she conducted herself with a confidence and poise marvelous to witness. I rarely had the opportunity to join into the conversation surrounding her, my own attention captured as I will relate in a moment, but it was obvious that the people around her, both male and female, were favorably inclined. Her manners were impeccable as far as I could discern, not that I am a very good judge of proper English behavior, God knows! Still, William never seemed dismayed in any way, as I am sure he would have been if there was cause; my nephew, for all his numerous excellent qualities, is still one who keeps a tight rein on propriety and social class. Poor boy!

Raja and I found ourselves chatting part of the evening with a group of East India traders and directors. Talking shop, so to speak. The politics behind the Company never fails to make me yawn, but I suppose I do have some insight, having served for nearly thirty years. Some of the politicians in the assembly joined in, even William for a spell as he, like most wealthy Englishmen, holds stock in the Company. As a physician I never have paid much attention to the trading aspects, although I too have invested monetarily. However, as long as the revenues roll in, I really do not care how. Raja argues with me endlessly as to my lackadaisical attitude, to which I counter that if I desired to be a businessman, I would have stayed home and assisted in the management of Pemberley as my father wished! So there!!

The truth is that any Englishman worth his salt can talk politics and business, after discussing fine spirits and food, that is. It is in the blood, apparently. That and horses. And gambling and cigars. Beautiful women. Hunting and foxing. Maybe billiards too. OK, I confess, I am still as much an Englishman as you would always say, Jharna, despite my love of Indian culture!