Rain

Intentions

It seemed as though the world was on Liliane’s shoulders as she furiously scrubbed the floor at the other end of the hall. I watched her carefully, longing to catch her eye so I might know why she was upset. Her eyebrows knit together, her eyes clouded with a fierce emotion—but I could not place it. When the General had pulled us inside, he’d stared me down with a fierce glare and a protective stance. What had I done to upset them so? I was just holding her hand! Her hand had been so small in mine, so delicate.

Turning back to the elephant foot ashtrays, I polished them with vigor, puzzling over the attitudes exerted on me by both Fairfield father and daughter. There was no reason for such overprotection. I would never hurt Liliane; ever.

Realization dawned on me. The fierceness would only be incited in the General if he thought I sought Liliane for something other than friendship… “Liliane,” I said gently, hoping to catch her attention from across the hall.

Suddenly, the General stepped onto the tile that stretched over the expanse of distance between Liliane and I. “Credel, boy, come here.” I could not mistake the fire in his eyes. “I must speak with you in my study.”

“Yes, sir,” I said quickly, rising from my stool to stand next to him. “What does it concern, sir?”

“You will see. Come.” With not a word more, he turned on his heel and sped out of the hallway, leaving me to jog in order to catch up.

General Fairfield took me to a wing I was not accustomed to, for I found myself with no recognition of the rooms and corridors that rushed to meet and pass me as we flew through the house. It was a rather empty wing, full of nothing in particular. It had the air of an English country house, and for a moment, I very well forgot that I was deep in India’s jungles.

Old paintings hung on the walls, no doubt ancestors and relatives etched in oil paint; looking down on the home’s occupants, expecting to find fault. It made me feel very small walking through that particular wing. The smell of tobacco and peppermint rose into my nostrils, reminding me of my uncle’s house. A pang of homesickness hit me gently, but I could not admit that I wished to be back there—the lure of adventure in India was too great for me to ever look back. I would spend all my years in India if I could persuade my uncle and aunt. I was determined to live my life on my own, no longer dependant. My mother had been dependant, I reminded myself bitterly. Look where that got her.

I was awakened from my thoughts when General Fairfield came to an abrupt stop in front of a study-like room. It had the smell of an old library, the stale scent of old and musty books—the very scent of learning and excellence. The lighting was poor; due to a miniscule window high above the rafters, casting a rather diminutive glow on the desk that sat in the middle of the room. The General moved toward it, and sat, nodding for me to do the same. “Where were you with my daughter, Credel?” he asked, eyebrow crooked in question.

My mind raced. I could not tell him the truth; for Liliane was not allowed into the village without a chaperone. How could I explain holding her hand, running in the rain? Liliane would never forgive me if I gave her away. “I told her to come outside with me, sir, to inquire about an unusual type of plant. I then accidentally knocked it over, and while we were trying to clean it up, it began to rain.” My fib escalating with my pulse, I stopped abruptly. “I apologize for my conduct sir, but it was entirely my fault.”

He looked me up and down, expression unreadable. “What are your intentions, boy?” He asked.

“My intentions?” I attempted to keep the nerves out of my voice.

“Are they pure?”

I hesitated… “Sir?”

Mask of sternness evaporating, General Fairfield rubbed his eyes. “What blasted pretense am I thinking of? You are but a boy!”

Confused at the sudden turn of tone, I looked at him, perplexed. “I am sixteen, sir. Hardly a boy.”

The general chuckled. “Why yes, of course, forgive me,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I hardly know when to speak to a boy in pursuit of my daughter’s hand, or what to say… ‘Tis not easy you know-- having only one child, only one person to focus all of your parenting attention on.”

“Excuse me, sir, but marriage? I do not seek Miss Fairfield’s hand!” I was deeply surprised at his assumption. She was but a girl! Hardly a beauty, and wouldn’t be anytime soon. And I could not be tied down with marriage! Not when I wanted to explore all corners of the world!

“You do not want to marry my daughter?” the General repeated, in shock.

“Forgive me, General, but your daughter is only ten years old.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as he stared at me, lips moving but no word pronounced. I looked around the room, searching for something to occupy my attention. I was downright offended that he would assume such a thing. I thought of her only a friend, nothing more. The absurdity of such a notion!

While I was seething, the silence was broken by a hearty laugh. To my surprise, General Fairfield had been sitting in his chair, head thrown back in mid-guffaw. It was infectious. And rather understandable, I supposed. It was a rather comical situation, really… The father assuming I was after his daughter, only to realize that she was way too young to even consider such a thing. I began to laugh too, and once we had both wiped our eyes, the general stood and swatted me on the back. “No hard feelings, eh, Credel, my boy? I am simply a father looking out for his young.”

“None, sir,” I assured him, grinning. “I only wish her to be a friend.”

And as far as I was concerned… That was the only way it would be.