I’ve already heard from a couple of readers who have wondered why the sickly young heroine of my new book, A Sinful Deception, was sent all the way from India, where she was born, to relatives she’d never met in London. Considering the perils (shipwreck, pirates, war) of a voyage that took the better part of a year in the 18th c., wouldn’t it have been safer for her to remain in India?
Perhaps. But India, too, was an unhealthy place for Europeans, and it was notoriously true that many failed to survive two monsoons, or two years. Yet for English parents of means living in India, the strongest reason for sending their children half a world away was an almost desperate desire that they be raised as English, attending English schools with English customs and friends.
This was a serious (and costly) step. Often the parents never saw their children again, or at least not for many years. But despite how deeply my heroine’s father had embraced India, he still wished her to return to London and ultimately marry an English gentleman.
One of the saddest (to me, anyway) examples of a family torn asunder in this way is described in…