The Karma of Love (Bantam Series No. 14) by Barbara Cartland

Meredith remarked. “But it surprises me that you are so glad to leave England.”
    “Why?”
    He seemed to consider a moment before he answered:
    “Most women find life in India constricting and narrow. The majority long passionately for home.”
    The word “home” brought Orissa sharp memories.
    “To me India is home,” she said.
    She had the feeling that Major Meredith was going to question her further, and because she realised this must not happen she turned.
    “I must go back to my charge, he may be needing me.”
    She had hardly completed the sentence before a violent roll of the ship made her lose her balance.
    For one frightening moment it seemed as if she would slither down the sloping deck and be thrown against the railing over which the water was flooding.
    She gave a little cry of fright, and at that moment a strong hand caught her wrist and pulled her back sharply so that she found herself in Major Meredith’s arms.
    It all happened so quickly. The impact of his hard body against the softness of hers made it difficult to breathe and she found his face was very close to hers.
    She was looking into his grey eyes.
    Just for a moment time seemed suspended. Then with a little inarticulate murmur of apology, Orissa found it possible to reach the door.
    Without looking back she hurried to her cabin.
    Only when she was safely inside the State-Room to find Neil still asleep did she sit down, feeling as if she had been buffetted not only by the wind, but in some inexplicable way by Major Meredith.
    She had gone to sleep thinking of him, afraid for Charles and yet at the same time convinced that he had not recognised her. There had not been the smallest flicker of recognition in his eyes.
    Again this morning she was certain that he did not connect her with the woman he had seen creeping up and then down the dark stairs of the house in Queen Anne Street—otherwise surely he would have betrayed his knowledge in one way or another.
    Nevertheless, because of the things Charles had told her about Major Meredith, because for her own sake he was a very undesirable acquaintance, she felt she must do her best to avoid him.
    It was not difficult during the next four days when the weather in the Bay of Biscay was extremely rough, and even Orissa felt it was unwise to venture onto the wave-swept decks.
    She suffered from being confined in the cabin with Neil, but it gave her a chance to get on with making her new dresses in the pretty muslins she had bought in London. She also refu r bished her green gown with the tulle and ribbons.
    She found that Neil was quite happy to lie and do nothing if she told him a story, and it was easy to sew at the same time.
    Her dresses progressed apace, and it was when they were nearing Gibraltar that Orissa thought of a different way to occupy what free time she might have..
    She had noticed the first night that there were a number of Indian passengers in the First Class Dining-Saloon.
    She longed to make their acquaintance, to talk to them, and, most of all to find out if her knowledge of their language was still as good as it had been when she was a child.
    At that time, because her Ayah talked to her in her own tongue, Orissa had found it as easy to converse with the natives as to talk English to her own family.
    She was however well aware that Lady Critchley would think it very strange if she were to become friendly with the Indians on board, and she therefore thought of a better plan.
    She went in search of the Purser, a red-faced, jolly man who was excellent at performing the most important part of his duties, which was to keep the passengers happy.
    “I wonder if it would be possible,” Orissa said, “for you to find anyone on board who would give me a few lessons in Urdu.”
    “Do you mean an Indian, Mrs. Lane?” the Purser enquired.
    “Perhaps there is one on the Second er Third Class deck who would be grateful for a little extra money,” she replied. “I could not pay