1
The heat in Colombo, capital city of the British Crown Colony of Ceylon, seemed especially oppressive on this sun-scorched August afternoon. As their carriage jolted and rumbled over a newly paved street, Alexa Howard surreptitiously opened one more button on the front of her gown, thankful that Aunt Harriet appeared to have fallen asleep and wouldn’t notice.
And even if she had, Alexa would not have cared! It was ridiculous, Alexa thought mutinously as she felt unladylike rivulets of perspiration trickle down her sides and between her breasts, that women should be expected to keep up the English fashions in a hot, tropical climate. Far more suited to the prevailing temperatures was the simple costume worn by the native Sinhalese women—a piece of cotton material wrapped twice around the waist and knotted at the hip, reaching to just above the ankles, known as a “camboy.” And their only other garment was a very brief and low-cut bodice that more often than not exposed a bare brown midriff. In fact, when Alexa was in the privacy of her own room at home, that was all she wore. But now here she was in Colombo—too many miles and far too many hours away from the comparative coolness of the hill country, and encased in a steel and whalebone corset that cut into her flesh, as well as layers of stifling petticoats under a gown that was supposed to cover her from neck to wrist.
The sharp clatter of horses’ hooves on either side of the carriage made Alexa wish enviously that she too could have made this journey on horseback wearing practical breeches instead of a hampering skirt. She knew the two young officers who had volunteered to act as their escort and they knew as well as she did that she could outride and outshoot either of them. Hadn’t she proved it only three weeks ago at the boar hunt up on Horton Plains? How cool it had been that day. She remembered the feel of the fresh wind in her face and the mounting sense of excitement that kept building during the chase with the dogs leading the way—the challenge of danger that was always present on one of these hunts. Why couldn’t she have been born the male instead of her brother, Frederick, who hated getting dirty and turned pale at the sight of blood, preferring to read books and practice on the pianoforte for hours on end when he could have spent the time outdoors enjoying all that life had to offer instead?
And what does Freddy know about running a coffee plantation? Alexa began to fan herself vigorously with the newly acquired bonnet she had positively refused to don before they had set out early that morning. Why, I’m the one who acts for Papa when he has to go away, and I can keep the ledgers and talk to the overseers in their own language and…and they respect me too, even if I am a woman! Freddy doesn’t even care about learning things like that even though he’ll need to know them some day, and Mama coddles him far too much, of course! But then, rather guiltily she caught the thought back, remembering how precious her only son was to poor Mama, who had lost three other children in infancy. And that was the reason it was Aunt Harry and not her mama who was to be her chaperone at the Governor’s Ball tomorrow night. Freddy had developed a fever—a slight fever—but of course Mama couldn’t dream of leaving his side! She had been quite preoccupied with instructing the cook exactly how to prepare fresh beef tea when a sullen Alexa, hurried along by Harriet, had left the rambling bungalow at five that morning.
“Do have a wonderful time, my darling,” Mama had said earlier. “And do try to smile instead of frowning in that forbidding fashion. It was so very kind of the Governor and Mrs. Mackenzie to invite you to stay with them in Queen’s House—really quite an honor, dearest, and I’m sure you’ll make both your papa and me very proud of you. Who knows, you might just meet some nice young man in the Civil Service, and…” But at that moment Freddy had called out for Mama, and she had hurried away after bestowing a quick kiss.
Perhaps it had been just as well, Alexa thought now. Sometimes she had to almost bite her tongue to keep from arguing vehemently, especially when the conversation turned to “suitable” young men. And that was another of the things she resented. Why was it simply taken for granted that every woman’s ambition must be to “catch” some man and be married? And yet it was usually either that or end up as a governess or an unwanted poor relation hovering in the background, hiding in the shadows—eternally grateful, constantly self-effacing. Alexa fanned herself even harder, feeling her lips grow taut with anger and frustration.
“I am going to be different! Why must I be forced to choose from such poor alternatives? I’ll find some way!” Alexa remembered herself saying that, the words spilling from her hotly; and she remembered even more clearly her aunt’s cool, measured voice replying.
“My dear Alexandra, I can only hope that besides giving you an education that most young females of your age are not fortunate enough to receive I have also taught you that you must learn to be practical. Logical and reasonable in your thinking, if you prefer. At any rate I’m sure you’re intelligent enough to realize that there are certain inescapable facts of life that have to be accepted, like it or not, my dear. You were born a female—and you have no other alternatives save even more unpleasant ones that we need not discuss.”
Oh, how fiercely she had argued, and how intensely she had felt the pain and frustration of the injustice of it maul her like the claws of a leopard before she’d been forced to concede to what Aunt Harry had called the inescapable facts of life—if you were a woman, that was. She had been allowed the taste of freedom for as long as she could remember, allowed to learn and think for herself and express her own opinions—to “run wild,” as some of the neighboring planters’ wives put it. And then…
“But why have I been allowed to have such freedom if I was only meant to lose it some day?” Alexa never cried, but the words had been a cry of despair in themselves. “You know Freddy
