Benedict could feel the tension in Ralph again. It was like energy flowing through him, as taut as an arrow. His heart started racing. Yes, they both knew India very well. A little too well.
His uncle took a deep breath. “It is time to get back to work, lads.”
Benedict nodded. What else could he do? Everything that his uncle was saying was true. The business needed young men to run it now; fresh blood to take over from the old. And it was a family business. The Montagus had acquired significant shares in the East India Company from its inception in 1600. His late father had been heavily involved in it as well. It was the reason the Montagus were as wealthy as they were, and it had to be maintained.
Ralph didn’t say a thing. Benedict’s lips thinned. He must break the ice with his cousin soon, or else the wound would close over entirely. His cousin might just shut him out forever. And he couldn’t have that. Not after all they had been through.
***
That evening after dinner, he stood smoking a cigar on Derby Hall’s balcony as he gazed over the landscape. There was a crescent moon in the dark sky and so many stars he could not count them all.
His heart clenched. She was out there somewhere. Or had she married and left this district in Essex behind?
He strained his eyes in the darkness, seeking the gabled roof of a particular manor house. There it was. Smoke was drifting into the air from its chimneys. Lambeth House, owned by the Vaughan family. Was she sitting in the drawing room doing embroidery at this very moment? Or had she already retired for the night to her chambers, drifting off to sleep, without a care in the world?
His heart clenched again. No, she would not be living with her family any longer. It had been over three years, after all. She would be a married lady by now with a home of her own. Possibly even a family.
He stubbed out the cigar, throwing the butt over the balcony. He was indulging himself by even thinking about her at all. But then he had suspected it would happen as soon as he was back in this district. How could it not?
He sighed heavily, feeling an overwhelming sorrow. Emmeline.
He had trained himself not to think of her when he had been in India. It seemed pointless. What they had once had was lost forever and could never be rekindled. Just another precious thing that India had taken from him. He had felt like his heart had grown scales, a kind of armour, to protect itself.
He had not thought about Emmeline in a long time. Until now.
He lingered on the balcony. Yes, he was indulging himself, but it was only a moment’s weakness. Her image drifted into his mind; shining nut-brown hair, skin as flawless and pale as milk, that gentle smile that would always twist a little sardonically when he teased her. She had always been so self-contained, but he well knew the secret fire that simmered beneath that reserved surface.
His loins tightened at the thought of that fire. It had been a very long time since he had been with a woman. Not since her. And it had not crossed his mind to seek another since his unexpected freedom six months ago. It had been more important to try to pick up the pieces of his shattered life. He felt broken, shattered into a million pieces, with nothing to give to any woman anyway.
A deep sorrow overcame him. He had nothing to give still and probably never would. It was definitely for the best that Miss Emmeline Vaughan was probably married. It had been so long she would have forgotten about him entirely anyway.
He blinked back tears as he indulged in the regret. How had she reacted upon receiving the letter telling her he was leaving? There had been no time to speak to her and tell her face to face. It had all happened so quickly and shockingly. He barely had time to pen the letter and give it to his uncle’s butler before the carriage had arrived to take him to the port. Within hours he had been on a ship sailing to India.
He had not realised that it would be so long before he would see his homeland again. And there had been many times during those years when he thought he never would.
He took a deep breath, banishing her from his mind once more, as he turned to walk back inside. It was almost easy now. He had trained himself well, after all.
Chapter 4
Benedict walked ahead with the rifle slung across his shoulder. Ralph was just behind him gripping his own gun, as silent as the grave. He had barely spoken a word to him since they had set out at first light into the woods.
He glanced back at his cousin. The outing had been Uncle Richard’s idea. He had suggested it to them over dinner the night before, telling them that there was good shooting for ducks at the lake. He had seemed rather regretful that he could not join them but had insisted they take the morning for leisure. Their first business meeting with Mr Hardy was scheduled for that afternoon.
Benedict had hesitated, looking at Ralph. But his cousin had merely shrugged, in that indifferent way that was his habit now. It was settled. They would meet at the back of the house at sunrise.
Benedict sighed heavily. They had been trudging through the woods for over an hour with two hounds at their heels. The dogs were scampering ahead, noses in the brush and tails wagging furiously. At least some of their party were enjoying themselves, he thought sardonically.
He stopped abruptly. There it was, shining like a skein of blue silk. The lake.
He studied it carefully. His uncle had been right. There were many ducks swimming the surface as well as nestling on the banks. He watched as a family of four – a mother duck and three ducklings – waddled along a bank before taking to the water and gliding to the centre. He smiled. It was almost touching to watch them.
He turned back to Ralph. “Let’s find the best position to shoot from. There’s some undergrowth here where we can set up.”
His cousin didn’t reply, merely following Benedict to the area he indicated. They both lay down, setting up their guns as they watched the lake. The hounds lay down beside them, instinctively knowing they must be quiet.
Benedict eyed his cousin. “You look tired. Did you not sleep well?”
Ralph shrugged, not looking at him. “As well as I always sleep nowadays. Which isn’t saying much.” He paused. “All I wanted for so long was to get away from that infernal heat … and now that I am, it seems that I cannot sleep without it.” He laughed bitterly.
Benedict’s heart lurched. “I feel the same. I despised the heat, but now I am away from it, I almost miss it.” His face twisted into a smile. “How ironic when all we dreamt of for so long was the fine rain of England on our faces.”
Ralph was silent.
“I know that you do not wish to talk with me,” said Benedict abruptly. “You have been avoiding me. I do not understand why.”
“Do you not?” Ralph stared at him hard. “I guess I barely understand myself.” He hesitated, struggling for words. “After all that we have been through together – living with each other, night and day, in that unbearable mud shack in the godforsaken Indian wilderness.”
Benedict’s heart lurched again. “Yes. I know.”
Ralph’s lips trembled with emotion. “For so long, all we plotted was our escape. How we would celebrate when we were back on English soil. And now …” He shrugged helplessly. “I feel as if I belong nowhere. And you are a reminder of all that we endured.”
Benedict tried not to let the hurt he felt show on his face. Ralph had always been like a younger brother to him. The brother that he had never had. He would give up his life for his cousin … and he almost had. And now Ralph was telling him that he couldn’t bear to look at his face.
He tried to shake it off, turning back to the lake. “Four birds have taken flight. It is your shot.”
Ralph cocked the trigger of his gun, nestling into the undergrowth as he watched the birds in the air. Benedict waited for him to take the shot.
But it never came. He glanced at his cousin. Ralph’s finger on the trigger was trembling. He watched as his cousin slowly lowered the gun.
“I cannot do it,” he whispered. “I cannot …”
Bene
dict nodded. He should have known that this was too soon. That handling guns and being forced to shoot anything, even a duck, would be too much.
“Jove’s beard,” whispered Ralph, shaking from head to toe. “Oh, no …”
He didn’t think. He dropped his own gun and put his arms around his cousin, watching helplessly as Ralph’s back shook with bitter, unshed tears.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Let it out. You need to …”
His words seemed to push something within his cousin. The next moment, he was crying openly as Benedict consoled him, just like he had during those awful years.
His face twisted. Ralph was as broken as he was. And he didn’t know if there was a place for either of them in England anymore after what they had been through. Perhaps there was no place for them anywhere …
***
It had been Ralph’s idea to go to India. He had begged his father for the chance to prove himself in the family business. It had not surprised Benedict. His cousin had always longed for travel and adventure, almost chomping at the bit to leave home and journey to far-flung places.
Benedict had his reservations about it and expressed them to Uncle Richard. Ralph was headstrong and reckless; he had been bailing his cousin out of one scrape or another since he could remember. Could Ralph be trusted to handle the intricacies of dealing with the natives on the ground without supervision?
But his uncle had told him that it would be the making of his son. That India and its challenges would make a man of him at last. Benedict had not been so sure, but who was he to argue with his uncle?
The shocking letter arrived six months later. He could still remember the exact moment it came. He had been staying at Derby Hall, helping his uncle with the business. It informed them that a band of disgruntled Indian natives had taken Ralph prisoner after a business dealing had gone wrong. The writer did not know where he was … or even if he was still alive.
They had always known the risks. The situation in India had always been volatile since the company had been set up all those years ago to take advantage of the lucrative spice trade. Many wars had been waged over the centuries and many treaties made. But the revenue was high, and so the risks had been accepted.
They had acted quickly. Uncle Richard begged him to set sail immediately to find his son, but Benedict had already decided upon that course of action anyway. Ralph’s life was at risk, and someone had to go to India to find him. His uncle was too old and infirm to do it, so it would have to be him.
The only moment of hesitation he had was about leaving Emmeline. But what choice did he really have? His cousin’s life was in danger. His cousin, who had always been more like a brother to him. There was simply no way he could stay in England on the sidelines, helplessly waiting for word if Ralph was released or if perhaps his body was discovered.
A rider was sent to London immediately to book passage on the next ship. Emmeline was away for two days visiting relatives in another county, but he wouldn’t have had time to visit Lambeth House to tell her anyway. So instead, he had scrawled the hardest letter of his life while the clock ticked down to his departure.
He left without seeing her face again.
It was a long, arduous journey to the subcontinent. Once there, he quickly talked to business associates about what Ralph had been doing and what had gone wrong. The answers were not encouraging. Ralph had double played his hand, offering two rival groups of natives the same deal without either being aware of the other. When his duplicity had been discovered, one of the groups had taken their revenge, breaking into his house at night and taking him prisoner.
He sent word to the group attempting to negotiate for Ralph’s release. After days of painstaking work, it seemed that he had a breakthrough. They were willing to release Ralph for a substantial sum. All that he had to do was secure the funds and meet them in an isolated place for the exchange.
He had known the risks, of course. But he simply had no choice.
The meeting turned bad almost immediately. Instead of releasing Ralph, they took him as well as the money. And for three long years, they were both kept prisoner in a mud shack in a heavily forested wilderness subjected to starvation and thirst while wild animals roamed around them. They had no idea what was happening in the outside world, who lived or died, or even if time itself was the same.
Despair had gripped them many times. Ralph contracted a tropical disease once, causing him to shiver and sweat and almost die. Benedict nursed him through it, but Ralph was never quite the same. It would sometimes recur when they least expected it.
They attempted escape so many times that he lost count. At first, they simply ran into the forest when the guards’ backs were turned, but they were always quickly recovered. They both fully expected to die there. But finally, six months prior, they had one stroke of blinding luck when their guard suddenly keeled over in the middle of the night, offering them hours to escape before the morning guard came on duty. They had taken his gun and set off into the darkness.
It was a hard journey through the wilderness before they reached a village. He still didn’t like to think of what they had done to survive it. A local family took them in, sheltering them. Benedict promised them a reward if they would only send word to the headquarters of the East India Company. He could still vividly remember the day when five company men rode into the village, and their ordeal was finally over.
They wasted no time. Once they recovered, they sailed back to England, keen to put India behind them. Benedict didn’t think he could ever set foot there again in his life.
He had been shocked to discover that three years had passed. Three lost years, which they could never recover. But they had survived, and all he could focus on now was finally getting home.
But it hadn’t been the same. And he didn’t think that it ever would be again.
As he stared down at the weeping man in the undergrowth, he knew that India would never really leave either of them. And that perhaps they would never fully recover from it at all. Perhaps India would be forever in their heads.
***
They were silent as they set off back to the house. The hounds seemed subdued too, they had not snagged any birds today. Benedict kept one hand on his cousin’s back.
They reached the clearing, and he turned to Ralph.
“Promise me that you shall not bottle it up again,” he whispered fiercely. “We are the only ones who understand what it was like. And we need each other.”
Ralph smiled tremulously. “Yes.” He hesitated. “Ben … I have never been able to say how sorry I am that you had to suffer so much trying to find me.”
Benedict smiled, gazing out over the fields. “You do not need to apologise. I would do the same a thousand times over. You know that, do you not?”
Ralph nodded, but he still looked miserable. “I just feel so guilty …”
“Let us not speak of it anymore,” said Benedict gently. “We are almost back to Derby Hall, and we must prepare for this meeting.”
But suddenly he saw it again. The house in the distance. Lambeth House.
His chest constricted. And once more, his aching heart remembered Emmeline.
Chapter 5
Emmeline smoothed out the creases of her gown with trembling hands as they made their way into the assembly. A local dance at the village hall. It was festooned with flowers and lanterns. Already there were a great many people assembled sipping glasses of champagne while the orchestra set up.
She smiled despite herself. She had been to so many dances here in her youth. In fact, her very first official social engagement, after her debut, had been a dance in this hall. She had worn a brand new rose coloured gown and her grandmother’s pearls. Back then, she had trembled with excitement and expectation rather than nerves.
A Lord's Flaming Return: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 3