by Peter Watt
‘I doubt that you believe there is a God,’ James scoffed. ‘But your goddamned stubbornness will bring us undone.’
‘I do not request you to accompany me,’ Samuel said, taking a long swig of the gin. ‘I would never put you at risk.’
James stepped forward, placing his hands on Samuel’s shoulders. ‘Despite your insanity, you know I would never allow you to face danger alone. If you insist on a visit to your brother’s memorial, I will be going with you.’
Samuel had hoped that James would insist on accompanying him. He did not want to be parted from him. Since Jonathan, he had recognised that James was the only other man he would ever love in his life.
‘Thank you, dear James,’ Samuel said, tears welling in his eyes. ‘We will arrange to leave immediately and be back before the ship sails.’
When Samuel turned to pack a few items, James shook his head, hoping that his lover was making the right judgement. Somehow he had his doubts.
*
Ian was announced on arrival in the magnificent ballroom at Lady Rebecca Montegue’s manor just outside London. It was a dazzling affair of colourful military uniforms, glittering gowns and jewellery and a multitude of candles flickering soft shadows on the guests both military and civilian. Ian noted that all the officers of his regiment were in attendance, which was not surprising as the invitation had described the event as the farewell ball for the regiment before it steamed to India. He wore his own dress uniform and blended in with his military colleagues.
Ian took a coupe of champagne offered him by a servant wearing an old Georgian wig and equally ornate dress uniform.
‘Here, sir, your dance card,’ the servant said, passing Ian a slip of paper.
Ian hardly looked at the card, slipping it inside his dress jacket. He took a sip of champagne and glanced around at the guests already on the polished timbered floor for a quadrille. The regimental band struck up and Ian expected they would play until midnight when the guests broke for supper. He knew he would be bored by then as he had come alone, as prescribed by the invitation.
He saw Rebecca enter the dance floor on the arm of Jenkins, and he swallowed the last of his drink, looking around for a servant to replenish his empty glass.
As he did so, his eyes fell on a sight that almost caused him to drop the crystal coupe. ‘God almighty!’
It was Ella, standing alone on the other side of the dance floor. She was holding a small fan and wearing a voluminous silk dress drawn in tightly at the waist, her shoulders bare. She appeared a little bemused and when she turned her head and caught sight of Ian, her expression mirrored his amazement.
Ian made his way around the tables to her.
‘Ella! What are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘I would ask the same of you,’ she replied. ‘I was assured by Lady Montegue that you would not be attending tonight. That is the only reason I accepted her unexpected invitation.’
‘Did your invitation specify that it was for you alone?’ Ian asked, a suspicion forming in his mind.
‘Yes, it did,’ Ella replied, and Ian broke into a crooked grin.
‘That is no accident,’ he said, and remembered the dance card in his jacket. He retrieved it and saw his and Ella’s names inscribed for a waltz following the quadrille. The quadrille had now finished and when the floor was clear, the bandmaster announced the next dance was a waltz.
‘I believe this is our dance,’ Ian said, taking Ella’s elbow to escort her onto the floor.
He placed his arm around her waist and they stepped off in time to the rhythm of the music.
‘I said that I would never see you again,’ Ella said. ‘Has fate brought us together tonight?’
‘No, not fate but the scheming of Lady Montegue,’ Ian replied. ‘But I cannot think of a more beautiful woman to be in my arms right now.’
Ella blushed, tightening her hand on Ian’s. It was said that the waltz was a licentious dance, leading to fornication, and for a moment Ian hoped that was true. With this beautiful young woman in his arms, floating across the polished floor together, his attempt to distance himself from her was forgotten.
‘I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we loved?’ Ian said softly.
‘Were we not weaned till then?’ Ella said, looking into Ian’s eyes. ‘You are certainly a man of many surprises, Samuel Forbes. John Donne, “The Good Morrow”. I would not expect a man whose life is devoted to soldiering to understand the pure romanticism of such a poem. I think we both understand its meaning, do we not?’
Just then the music stopped and the dancers left the floor. Ian was about to say something when he saw Rebecca gesturing to him. He escorted Ella to a table where some of the younger officers of the regiment were engaged in sipping claret and smoking cigars.
‘Look after this lady, gentlemen,’ he commanded as he pulled out her chair. ‘I will be returning.’
The young officers said they would be delighted, and as Ian walked away he wondered if leaving Ella alone with those handsome and eligible men was such a good idea.
‘I am pleased to see that you have been following your dance card,’ Rebecca said with a smile.
‘You planned this,’ Ian said without any rancour. ‘Why?’
‘Let us just say that I learned that you have dealings with Miss Solomon’s father and that he is a man with a formidable reputation for getting things done. I also remember that you escorted his daughter to her debut ball and he was very grateful. I gather that you have been seen many times in her company since, and when I look at the young lady, I can see why any man would risk the ire of Ikey Solomon. But he would have to be a very brave – or foolish – man to do that, and I know you are not foolish. You must have strong feelings for Miss Solomon. I ask that you escort her home after the ball. I promised Mr Solomon you would do that for him.’
‘Good Lord!’ Ian said. ‘Jane was never this conniving.’
‘It is because of my sister’s memory that I have courted favour with Mr Solomon,’ Rebecca replied. ‘When the time comes for justice to be dispensed, I know he will be able to assist. Besides, if Clive does one day become prime minister, it will not hurt to have Mr Solomon as a discreet friend.’
Ian stared at Rebecca. ‘I do hope I never get on the wrong side of you, Lady Montegue.’
She smiled warmly. ‘I should also mention that when you escort Miss Solomon home, it will be in her carriage. Mr Solomon has arranged this with his man, Egbert.’
Egbert. Ian knew the employee as a tough and dangerous thug. Thoughts of the remainder of John Donne’s poem melted away. Egbert was more than capable of breaking bones with his bare hands. He was almost as dangerous as Rebecca Montegue. She was one of the most manipulative people he had encountered but he respected her strategic mind. Ian almost felt sorry for Colonel Clive Jenkins in the hands of his future wife.
‘You know,’ Ian said, shaking his head, ‘you would be a far more suitable commanding officer of our regiment than Colonel Jenkins. You have a fine head for tactics.’
‘Ah, but it is well accepted that we ladies are simple, weak and frivolous creatures. It is not in us to be leaders, but simply the bearers of children and keepers of the house.’ She gazed guilelessly at him.
Ian smiled broadly. He was not fooled for a moment.
Fifteen
The hulking man in the driver’s seat of the carriage watched Ian like a hawk.
Ian helped Ella onto the carriage seat and sat opposite her for the journey to a small but comfortable cottage Ikey owned as his country retreat, away from the smog and slums of London. Ian ached with the desire to hold Ella and lie with her naked in a big comfortable bed and remain there forever in her arms. He knew by Ella’s response to Donne’s poem that she, too, wished to be with him. Of course, Egbert’s presence ensured that would not happen. Ian did not doubt that if he had acted in an in
appropriate manner towards Ikey Solomon’s chaste daughter, he would likely not make it back to London alive.
Not even a kiss passed between them as Ian walked her to the door. The subtle, hidden touch of their hands was their only physical contact under the watch of eagle-eyed Egbert. The touch was like an electric shock to Ian, who had experienced such a thing as a young man at a travelling show where a man demonstrated this new thing called electricity. Now he felt it again and knew the most important thing in his life was to be with Ella, regardless of the consequences. After all, within days he would be steaming to India and there his life might come to a brutal end at any moment.
‘Excuse me for a moment, my love,’ Ian said, and returned to Egbert in the carriage.
‘Bert, I need a couple of hours alone with Miss Solomon,’ Ian said, reaching into his trouser pocket.
‘I have my orders from Ikey,’ Egbert growled. ‘You are to return with me now.’
Ian opened his hand, revealing a sparkling diamond he had retrieved when his company had looted a Russian baggage train in the Crimea. He always carried the precious gem for luck and considered it might prove to be so now.
‘I appreciate your loyalty to Ikey but I am leaving for India very soon and would like to have a couple of hours in the company of Miss Solomon. She is agreeable to this, I assure you. This diamond is worth more than a working man’s lifetime of wages and I think that you deserve it.’
Ian could see Egbert eyeing the glittering stone with intense avarice and awe. Loyalty to Solomon and greed seemed to battle inside him.
‘As you are steaming for India, Captain Forbes,’ Egbert eventually said, ‘I can understand that you might wish to speak with Miss Solomon, but Ikey must never know about it.’
‘That goes without saying,’ Ian said, passing the diamond to Ikey’s henchman.
‘Two hours and I will be back, Captain Forbes,’ he said, and flicked the reins to urge the horse forward. When he was out of sight, Ian returned to Ella.
‘Do you want this?’ he asked, and she nodded.
Hand in hand they walked through the cottage door.
What followed in the next couple of hours was worth all the diamonds Ian had ever possessed. He had almost forgotten how love could be expressed in such a physical way, with such joyful passion. All too quickly, however, their time together was over.
‘It is time for me to leave,’ Ian said reluctantly, rising from the bed and beginning to dress himself.
Tears began to stream down Ella’s face. ‘I can never love any man as I love you,’ she said. ‘Please come back to me safely and then we will be together always.’
Ian did not reply. He was acutely aware that war gave no guarantees.
He kissed Ella tenderly and then walked out into the darkness. Egbert was waiting for him, and Ian climbed aboard the carriage to return to London.
*
The regiment marched down to the wharf in the early evening. Their departure did not attract as much attention as when they had sailed to confront the Tsar’s army in the Crimea. This time a scattered crowd of civilians lined the streets and urchins fell in behind the columns of soldiers marching to the beat of drums and the sound of trumpets.
Ian led his company and glanced from the corner of his eye to see if he recognised anyone amongst the gaggle of spectators. He hoped to see Ella, but by the time they arrived at the ships he hadn’t sighted her. He spotted Molly, here to see Conan and Owen embark on the troopship.
When Ian had overseen his company boarding the ship, he clambered up the gangway to stand at the railings beside Conan and Owen. They had become a recognised trio in the company and many speculated about this. The old hands who had served in the Crimea and Persia with Ian’s company soon set the newcomers straight. The trinity of the three men – two senior non-commissioned officers and a commissioned officer – brought the company luck.
Below them they could see Molly looking up at them with a tear-streaked face. She was waving a handkerchief and mouthing words drowned by the din of the wharf and the music of the regimental band playing the Scottish tune of ‘Auld Lang Syne’. Soldiers on the ships and those waving farewell on the wharf joined in the singing.
Then Ian saw Ella.
She was not singing but staring up at him with a sad face. He saw her mouth some words and did not have to be a lip-reader to understand that she had said she loved him. He felt a lump in his throat and waved to her just as the ships slipped their ropes, taking advantage of the tide. It was like a recurring dream, Ian thought, as Ella became a small figure amongst all the wives, mothers, lovers, sisters and children saying goodbye to their soldier husbands, sons, lovers and brothers.
Ian made a vow there and then: if he returned from this campaign he would confront Ikey Solomon and declare his love for the formidable man’s only daughter. He knew that could prove more dangerous than facing a battleline of well-armed enemy sepoys.
*
Major Scott Campbell sat astride his horse, gazing at the camp of white tents before the formidable walls of the Indian city of Delhi. Their own camp looked so insignificant compared to the expanse of the walled city. Forces composed of sepoys loyal to the Queen and British soldiers of the East India Company were here to take Delhi back from the Indian rebellion. Scott knew that his brother and sister-in-law had taken up residence in the British lines and he worried for their safety. As such, he had chosen to ride out to reconnoitre a position to the right rear of the British lines where their forces were thin on the ground.
Scott rode a mile and brought his horse to a halt. Observing a dust cloud rising on the horizon, he retrieved a small telescope from his pack. In the view he could see a tiny figure on a horse galloping at full speed towards him, and beyond the horseman Scott could see the tiny figures of enemy cavalry that had somehow got behind the British lines.
Scott pulled his horse around and set off at a gallop to return as fast as he could to the camp. He rode hard, his mount in a lather when he reached the lines. ‘Saddle, boots and mount up!’ he yelled. ‘The enemy is upon us!’
Immediately cavalrymen tumbled from tents, throwing saddles on their horses and snatching weapons. Scott waited only a short time until a small force was ready for action, and suddenly realised that Peter was at his stirrup.
‘What is happening?’ Peter called up to his brother.
‘The devils must have filed across the causeway behind us and formed up. They are coming in force.’
‘I am coming with you,’ Peter said, brandishing his big six-shot revolver.
‘You need to stay and protect Alice,’ Scott shouted down at Peter.
‘If we don’t stop them before they reach the camp we will all be finished,’ Peter replied, comprehending the gravity of the sudden attack.
‘Grab a horse and hurry then,’ Scott said. Peter rushed to the horse lines, threw a saddle on a mount and quickly joined his brother. As soon as he did, Scott ordered the advance and the defending force set off to meet the attack.
They rode for a half-mile with outlying cavalrymen acting as picquets. When Scott spotted the dust cloud and the mutineer cavalry formation that had caused it, his heart sank. He guessed that his own meagre force was outnumbered at least four to one. He withdrew his curved sabre, held it aloft and roared, ‘At a gallop, charge!’
The line of mutineer cavalry was taken aback by the absolute madness of such a small force galloping towards them, screaming their war cries, and the line halted before turning to fall back.
Scott had expected they would crash into the attacking force and be annihilated, but his bold move had unsettled the attacking enemy. Each of the British and loyal Indian cavalrymen knew his business and singled out their foe for combat as the enemy retreated. The British sabres descended, inflicting terrible wounds as the razor-sharp blades sliced through arms, shoulders and heads.
Pete
r kept close to his brother, who was locked in battle with a mutineer, slashing and parrying his opponent’s desperate attempts to defend himself. The horses crashed together and whinnied their confusion. Peter suddenly noticed that the Indian cavalryman had taken advantage of an opening in his brother’s defence and was on the verge of delivering a death blow. Peter was only feet away, fighting to control his panicked mount. He brought up his heavy revolver, firing at almost point-blank range at the head of the man about to kill his brother. The shot was true and the mutineer slumped from his horse, slamming into the hard and dusty ground below.
Scott swung around to see the smoking revolver in Peter’s hand, realising that his brother had just saved his life. He nodded his appreciation and spurred his mount towards a group of fleeing enemy. Peter followed and they went in pursuit of the larger force now attempting to retreat to a causeway. In their panic the enemy had milled into a confused mass, all attempting to cross the narrow causeway at once. The smaller British force took advantage of their disorganisation, and the slaughter continued at the entrance to the causeway in close-quarter killing.
The frenzy of battle had overtaken Peter’s senses and he picked out an enemy lancer who wheeled around to confront him. Peter raised his pistol, firing two shots which missed, and suddenly the enemy horseman was on him. Peter felt the lance pierce his side, dragging him from his mount, and he crashed onto the earth, winded. He could taste dirt in his mouth and felt the lance being withdrawn from his body. Peter screamed his pain and realised that he had lost his pistol in the fall. He looked up to see the mutineer cavalry lancer rearranging his blood-tipped lance for a second strike.
Knowing he was about to be skewered, Peter experienced more regret than fear. His last image was of Alice’s face. The look of triumph on the enemy lancer’s face suddenly evaporated as it was smashed by a bullet. From the corner of his eye, Peter could see his brother’s arm holding his own revolver, smoke drifting from the end of the barrel.