Echoes of a Promise

by Ashleigh Bingham

  ‘There was a huge crowd gathered in the great durbah hall for the coronation ceremony, but halfway through, an assassin threw a bomb. It killed the little raja, along with a lot of others, demolished Queen Victoria’s marble clock, and left me, her emissary, with wounds that took months to heal.’

  ‘Oh, Andrew! What about Ishana? Was she hurt?’

  He looked at her in surprise. ‘Good lord, Victoria, she wasn’t there. The ladies of the palace never show themselves in public. They live totally secluded lives in the zenana – the women’s quarters – though there are passageways built in the walls for them to move about in certain areas and watch what’s going on from behind marble screens.’ His expression softened. ‘And sometimes there are doors concealed in the walls. That’s the way that Ishana came to my chamber to offer me comfort when I was hurt. And, dear God, how I needed it.’

  Questions flew around in Victoria’s mind like bats in a cage, but she kept her lips tightly closed and continued to listen.

  ‘My legs were burned and useless, I’d lost my sight. Never in my life have I so longed for a quick death to release me from the pain, not to mention the fear that I’d be crippled and blind for life. Every day the healer came to my bed to treat my burns with his potions, and to pour his oil into my eyes.

  ‘And each morning he brought a fresh apology from the new raja, who happened to be an uncle of the dead boy, and was probably the one who’d orchestrated the assassination. It seemed, however, that the man who’d been given the job of throwing the bomb had mistimed it badly and, therefore, had brought great dishonour to their princely house by insulting Her Britannic Majesty. Not only had Gwalinpore destroyed Queen Victoria’s royal gift, but it had also nearly killed her personal emissary.

  ‘The new raja asked his auguries and soothsayers what offering could be made to restore the honour of Gwalinpore. And can you guess what the answer was?’ He flung the question at her as a challenge.

  Her eyes looked straight into his. ‘Yes. I think he offered you the services of Ishana.’

  Her frank answer surprised him. His tone changed. ‘She came to my room each day and provided me with the kind of comfort that makes a man want to live. I fell in love with her – desperately, and I knew that she truly loved me in return. What my arrogant English manhood couldn’t comprehend was that Ishana, the favourite wife of the new raja, wasn’t required to stop loving her husband in order to give me her love as passionately as she did.

  ‘It was a long time before my sight returned and I could walk unaided. By then I was utterly, madly in love with Ishana and I even dreamed of finding some miracle that would keep us together. Could she escape from the zenana? Would she ever be accepted into my English world?’ He looked at Victoria and slowly shook his head.

  ‘What I’m about to tell you, remember, could happen only in India: When Ishana informed her husband that she was carrying my child, he consulted his auguries, and their readings gave him the news that he most wanted to hear. The birth of this baby, they promised, would provide the means to remove the veil of dishonour from the face of Gwalinpore.’

  Victoria frowned. ‘I think I’m becoming a little lost.’

  ‘Ishana’s husband came to me and confirmed that the baby was undoubtedly mine as he had not lain with her since he’d sent her to comfort me after I’d been wounded. An unusual situation, yes?’

  ‘Indeed!’

  ‘Now he hoped that I would accept Ishana’s child as a gift, and that this offering would serve to expunge the great dishonour earned by Gwalinpore when Her Britannic Majesty’s magnificent clock was destroyed. And her emissary almost killed. The baby was due to be born in five months’ time. Where did I wish it to be sent – along with its wet nurse and servants?’

  Victoria’s jaw sagged. ‘The begum?’

  He blew a long breath between his lips. ‘I’d had no contact with that lady for fifteen years – ever since my father’s affair with her had ended. But, amazingly, she remembered me, and I think she’s taken some pleasure in helping me keep my secret from him during the last three years. The initial arrangement we made was for her to take care of Annabelle for twelve months, or until I’d left the army and found a situation where I could raise a child. And here I am three years later, still floundering.’ He picked up a pebble and threw it into the gorge below.

  ‘I can’t impose on the begum for much longer, so perhaps I should present Annabelle to the ladies of the cantonment as a stray child that I found along the way—’

  ‘Hah!’ She could tell that he wasn’t being serious. ‘No, Andrew, nobody seeing you two together could doubt that Annabelle is yours. She definitely has your eyes.’ She raised one brow a fraction. ‘But how fortunate for her that she hasn’t inherited your nose.’

  He gave a guffaw and rolled onto his back while the horses dozed and their riders gave no further thought to visiting any further sights this day. They stayed where they were on the edge of the ravine, growing increasingly easy in each other’s company, allowing their conversation to drift from one topic to another.

  ‘Time to eat?’ he asked at last and went to his saddle-bag for the egg sandwiches, the apricots and nuts, and flasks of lime juice that had been packed by the kitchen staff.

  ‘Here, you must be hungry,’ he said and settled beside her again.

  She nodded and neither spoke while they ate. After she’d brushed the crumbs from her skirt, she gave a little sigh and stretched full length on the grass with her hands locked behind her head and her eyes closed. ‘Thank you, Andrew, that was perfect.’

  He watched her and, with each passing moment, he could feel his emotional barricades crumbling. As a man who’d always lived much within himself, he couldn’t put a name to the sensation, but he knew that it was to do with her closeness. Again, it wasn’t purely the physical closeness.

  ‘Tell me about yourself, Andrew,’ she said, without moving or opening her eyes. ‘Tell me about India.’

  With no particular starting point, he began to talk about the places he’d been stationed, some of the actions he’d taken part in, a few ironic incidents that made her chuckle, as well as his forlorn hope of transferring to the Guides. He spoke of friendships that had been forged amidst warm blood and cold steel, as well as the times of monumental boredom when friction between men was quick to erupt.

  ‘Tell me about the scar on your cheek. How did you get it?’

  ‘Can’t you guess?’

  ‘I think—’ She sat up and looked at him narrowly, making a play of puzzling over the answer. ‘Yes, either you were grazed by an enemy bullet during some heroic campaign up in the hills, or perhaps that wound was inflicted by the point of a duelling sword. Did a jealous husband catch you dallying with his wife and call you out?’

  He gave a hoot of laughter. ‘Well, let there be no secrets between us, ma’am. There’s nothing heroic or noble about it, I can assure you. I got the scar brawling in a native bazaar when I was more than a little drunk and a pickpocket tried to make off with my money. I caught up with him and, while we were scuffling in the dust, he pulled a knife. But I got my purse back and probably left him with a few broken ribs. So what do you think of that?’

  Her hazel-green eyes looked straight into his. ‘I think you’re a man who protects what is his, and in this instance you acted with appropriate boldness and determination. I’m sure the end justified the means. Isn’t that what your friends in the regiment would have said at the time?’

  He felt physically winded by the feelings she was stirring in him. ‘Ah, yes, the regiment. It’s certainly a family that takes care of its own – at least it looks after its men. Wives are another matter, of course, and there are many ladies who can’t survive the constant loneliness of living on the periphery of the regiment.’ For a few moments he lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

  ‘That makes it easier to understand why the ladies out here have to keep themselves busy by arranging their tea parties and card parties – and occasionally hav
ing affairs with other men to put a little spice into life. After all, they have servants to do all the work, they’ve sent their children back to be educated in England, so, of course, they need their social activities to fill in the days until a husband’s home leave comes around every five years. Then they can escape from India for a few months – though some marriages can’t survive that long.

  ‘My own mother had enough after four years out here, and I can still remember watching her walking – no, running away from the house and driving off with some man. My father gave me a sound whipping when he found me crying for her to come back, so, as early as he could, he sent me off to a school that had a name for putting backbone into soft little boys. I think that the masters there did a first-rate job because I came back to India as a young man with lots of backbone and very little else inside him.’

  She rolled onto her side and lifted herself onto her elbow. ‘You’re utterly wrong, Andrew. I’ve known you only a short time, but I can see so much to admire in your character. I know you to be a strong and honest man with a tender side that you try very hard not to reveal. Actually, I feel quite envious towards Annabelle for having a father like you. Did you never wish to marry some nice lady and—’

  ‘Marry? Frankly, no, Victoria.’ He grinned. ‘Perhaps that was due to the fact that, in the course of my life, I’ve known so very few nice ladies.’

  She laughed aloud. ‘It’s not too late for you to change your ways, Captain. I’m sure that if Maud Pelham had still been alive, she’d have found a suitable marriage partner for you by this time.’

  He pulled a long face and shook his head. ‘I must remember to send a prayer of thanks to whichever saint up there saved me from such a fate.’

  She laughed again, then sat up and reached for her flask of juice. It was empty. ‘Oh, do you have any left, Andrew?’

  ‘Yes. Here, let me pour it into yours.’

  ‘It’s all right, I’ll just have a sip from that one.’

  He unscrewed the top and passed his flask to her, then watched as she placed her lips where his had touched, then threw back her head and drained the last drops. His eyes followed the graceful line of her neck and the way she ran her tongue over her bottom lip as she replaced the cap. ‘Ah! How good that was.’

  He felt his blood pumping faster, stirred by the playful intimacy that had grown between them during their time together today. Never before had he found someone like this to confide in. Someone he could permit to come close enough to see the void that was there behind the façade he displayed to the world.

  She smiled at him, a smile warm with uncomplicated affection. His eyes drank her in. His throat tightened and he realized that this moment would be caught in time like a fly in amber, to stay with him forever.

  Somehow, the day that had started off so miserably with the news of Ishana’s death had lost the edge of its savage pain. Today he had discovered someone who could provide him with a fixed point of emotional safety.

  Being with Victoria Latham was like finding a lifeline.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Andrew was increasingly irritated by the constant tardiness of Lady Phillips’s guests.

  Lady Marchant and Miss Eloise Marchant were running late again this evening. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that they did this deliberately in order to make an entrance at every gathering, though why the ill-favoured pair would wish to draw attention to themselves remained a puzzle to him.

  Lady Marchant’s long bones were bereft of flesh, though she seemed to be endowed with more teeth than her tight mouth could accommodate. In view of that, he supposed it was fortunate for them all that she looked on the world with perpetual disdain and seldom smiled.

  Miss Eloise Marchant, on the other hand, rarely stopped smiling as she looked about. Despite her family’s standing in London society, she’d apparently had no success in attracting any suitable offer of marriage, and India offered a fresh hunting ground.

  Tonight, the cast of The Scarlet Cloak was left behind stage in a fidget of nerves for fifteen minutes while they waited for the curtain to be raised, just as soon as the Resident and his party arrived to take their places in the front row. The clubhouse ballroom had been converted into a theatre for the evening, and the packed audience was growing increasingly restless at the late start of the performance.

  With all the grace he could muster, Andrew ushered Lady Marchant and Eloise into the theatre behind Sir Ian and Lady Phillips who bustled down the centre aisle giving little smiles and nods of apology to the left and right for their late arrival.

  Lady Marchant and Eloise refused to be hurried, seemingly determined to allow everyone in the hall ample opportunity to study their London fashions. Eloise swivelled her head from side to side, smiling at men who caught her eye. But her expression changed to one of astonishment when she glimpsed Victoria sitting in the audience. She stopped and blinked.

  ‘Oh, Mama, do look! I can see Victoria Shelford! Hello, Victoria.’ She gave a giggle. ‘So this is where you’ve been hiding!’

  Lady Marchant quickly scanned the faces turning towards them in surprise and, on recognizing Victoria, her eyes narrowed and her expression tightened. The audience stirred and people strained to catch a better view of whatever was happening.

  Andrew noted how quickly Victoria covered her surprise and acknowledged Miss Marchant and her mother with a cool tilt of her head before turning away. For some reason, the sight of the two ladies seemed to have unsettled her, and that heated his own anger towards them. He took the mother and daughter each by an elbow and propelled them down the aisle to their seats beside Sir Ian and Lady Phillips. Damn women! What was their connection with Victoria?

  And now as he settled into his own seat, he could sense trouble of some kind brewing for her in the looks that Eloise Marchant exchanged with her mother, and in their whisperings to Lady Phillips throughout the performance.

  The high melodrama performed by the Amateur Dramatic Society would have been a disaster if the audience hadn’t perceived The Scarlet Cloak as a splendid farce and laughed all the way through. While the audience was giving the cast an enthusiastic round of applause, Andrew looked around for Victoria. Her chair was empty.

  The next performance that evening was given by Lady Marchant and Eloise at the supper party arranged by Colonel and Mrs Moncrief at their bungalow for the cast of the play and selected other guests.

  ‘When did Victoria Shelford arrive in Srinagar? I was most surprised to see her here.’ Miss Marchant posed the question loudly to the crowded room, but it was the colonel’s wife who answered.

  ‘Do you mean Mrs Victoria Latham? Mrs Latham has been staying here for several months now.’

  ‘Mrs Latham? Are you telling me that Victoria Shelford is actually calling herself Mrs Latham?’ Lady Marchant’s voice could have cut glass. ‘My dear Mrs Moncrief, that girl ran away to sea with a common sailor, and it broke her poor mother’s heart when she discovered that there had been no marriage!’

  Eloise smirked as she looked around the room to assess the degree of shock generated by her mother’s revelation.

  ‘I’ve always found Mrs Latham to be a very pleasant, refined young lady,’ Lady Phillips said, flustered. ‘Besides, she wears a wedding ring.’

  Miss Marchant’s neck appeared to stretch even further as she turned her head and gave the Resident’s wife a patronizing smile. ‘Well, we know that she is not married because Mama had an investigator search every parish register for twenty miles around the place where she was staying in Devon at that time. I can assure you that there was no wedding recorded in any of them.’

  Andrew balled his fists until the nails bit into his palms. Dear God! If Eloise Marchant had been a man he’d be aiming a blow right now at that long jaw. The group around the Marchant women grew thicker.

  ‘Victoria Shelford’s wayward behaviour was the ruin of her whole family, I can assure you.’ The way that Lady Marchant’s thin lips drew back to reveal her huge teeth
reminded Andrew of a killer shark about to attack. ‘Poor Mr Shelford lost his seat in Parliament when the scandal became known, and her parents were forced to leave London and move to the south of France because of the disgrace their daughter brought to their doorstep.’

  The enormity of the wreckage left by Victoria’s misconduct left the audience clamouring for more detail. Andrew boiled. The vitriolic performance of these two witches was clearly no spontaneous act this evening. How many times had they rehearsed this slander? Would Victoria thank him if he went in now to defend her? Did he have the right to announce to the company that her marriage had taken place at sea and was perfectly legal?

  He backed out of the room and sat in the garden to smoke a cheroot, trying to ignore the unstoppable torrent of gossip floating out to him through the open window.

  ‘And, Mama, don’t forget what happened to the older girl, too! The wild one, Caroline, who was named in court during Countess Overton’s divorce hearing.’

  ‘Ooooh!’ The pain in Lady Marchant’s voice sounded almost sincere. ‘I have no words to describe what a picture of her wanton behaviour emerged from the evidence presented by the servants during the trial. It was in all the newspapers, but she and her husband had run off to America. They went on the stage over there, singing and dancing – and she even shows her legs, so I’ve learned.’ She clicked her tongue and looked around at her audience. ‘There was obviously something sadly lacking in the way Lady Mary raised her daughters.’

  The next morning Andrew rode to Nigel’s house to talk to Victoria, and met her as she was stepping through the front door. He could see that she hadn’t slept well and that she was very angry.

  ‘Well, Captain Wyndham, are you sure that you want to be seen speaking to a woman like me?’