Lady Helen Finds Her Song

by Jennifer Moore

  General Stackhouse held his head in his hands and occasionally muttered the word baby.

  The hours slipped by, and the voices inside the room became murmurs. General Stackhouse left to tend to his wife, and Michael found it difficult to keep his eyes open. He rested his head in his hands, allowing his thoughts to wander where they would, and of course they drifted to Lady Helen—the way she’d come to him for help, fully trusting that he would assist her. Had they only known each other less than a week? The warmth of her hands and the concern in her eyes. Her hair falling loose around her shoulders. Her voice when she said his name.

  “Captain Rhodes?”

  He lifted his head and, for a moment, tried to detach his dreams from reality. Lady Helen was standing before him tapping his shoulder. “Pardon me, my lady, I must have dozed off.” His mouth felt thick, and his words sounded sluggish. He shook his head to wake himself.

  “Mamá’s fever has broken.”

  Her eyes were tired, and her entire body seemed to droop with fatigue, but there was a relief in her expression.

  “I am so glad.”

  She pulled on his arm, helping him to stand. “Come, it is nearly dawn. Lal Singh is leaving, and you need your sleep. The carriage is waiting to take you home.”

  He winced as he followed her. Falling asleep in the hard hallway chair had done his leg no favors.

  From the doorway of the bedchamber, Michael saw Lady Patricia sleeping soundly and the general holding her hand as he slept in the chair next to her. Lal Singh stepped into the hallway and handed Lady Helen the parcel of herbs. Through Michael, he instructed her to give her mother a cup of tea every four hours. He would return tomorrow to check on Lady Patricia’s progress.

  “Thank you,” Lady Helen said to the hakim, and then to Michael, “How do I tell him thank you in his language?”

  “Dhanyavaad.” He said the word slowly, drawing out the syllables.

  “Dhanyavaad, Lal Singh.” Lady Helen’s brows pulled together as her mouth struggled to produce the unfamiliar sounds. Her accent was heavy and the word hardly understandable, but her effort was endearing. “Thank you for helping my mother.”

  The hakim bowed with his palms together and his thumbs touching his forehead then took his leave.

  Michael glanced at the long flight of stairs. His stiff leg ached just looking at it. “I will see myself out, my lady. Return to your family.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” she said and turned back into her mother’s room.

  Michael grasped the handrail and took the stairs one at a time, grunting with every other step. He reached the entry hall and started toward the door.

  Lady Helen called his name, and he stopped. She held her skirts as she hastened down the stairway. “Captain, I cannot let you leave until I speak to you.” She joined him and looked suddenly nervous, as if she didn’t know what to say. Her eyes moved to the side then looked up at him, a line of worry forming between her brows. “I must apologize, sir, for how very rudely I reacted tonight at your house, when . . .” She glanced down at his foot.

  Michael’s stomach twisted. “I completely understand, my lady. It is a repulsive injury and must have disturbed you greatly to see it. Think of it no more.” He inclined his head and turned away before his expression could betray the hurt he felt. He swallowed at the thickness in his throat.

  Lady Helen moved around in front of him, holding on to his arms to stop him. “Captain, I am not disturbed in the least, and I definitely shall think of it because I consider my friends’ pains instead of ignoring them.” The nervousness had left her expression, and her bright eyes flashed in the candlelit hall. “I was surprised, Captain. That is all. Until tonight, I did not know to what degree your leg had been injured, and I must tell you, I do not think it repulsive in the least.”

  She stepped back and folded her arms, looking at the floor and then to him. “I assumed you thought better of me, sir.” Her lip trembled slightly as her voice softened. “I am not the sort of person who requires a man to have two feet in order to be considered my friend. And I only wish you had told me earlier so I would not have been hurt when you did not dance with me.” Her brows drew together. She balled her hands into fists at her sides. “Blazes! I would never have persuaded you to attend the accursed ball in the first place!” Lady Helen clamped her hands over her mouth, and her eyes opened wide. Then she rushed past him and up the stairs before Michael could call her back.

  He stood in the entry hall and stared after her, stunned by her words. Not just her use of coarse language—which in itself made him want to laugh aloud—but the things she’d said shocked him. Did she mean them? She was hurt that he had not danced with her? And was she truly not disgusted by his missing leg? He stepped out into the early morning air to join Lal Singh and thought through the events of the night. Had he assumed the worst of Lady Helen? That she was a faithless friend who would snub a person who was damaged? Her actions since he had met her spoke otherwise.

  He climbed inside the carriage and considered if their roles were reversed. If she were deformed in some way, would he think less of her? He shook his head. It would not matter to him in the least, so why had he assumed it would be such with her? He had been so blinded by his own self-doubt that he had not given Lady Helen his trust.

  At his bungalow, he climbed out of the carriage, bid farewell to Lal Singh, and waved to the driver, but he did not go inside, choosing instead to walk. He clasped his hands behind his back and thought again of Lady Helen’s expression. Hurt and anger had raised color in her cheeks and made her eyes look as if they could melt metal.

  He owed the lady an apology, and in spite of her anger, he smiled, thinking of what she’d said. She considered him a friend. She had rushed to him in the late hours of the night when she needed help and felt hurt because he had not danced with her.

  He knew he would have to think of a way to make it up to her. But at this moment, he felt very contented, and the pain in his leg was not bothersome at all.

  Chapter 12

  Helen awoke, feeling far from rested. She’d not gone to her own bed until past dawn, and her head ached. Lying beneath her mosquito netting, she threw an arm over her eyes to block the sunlight. She was mortified by the way she’d behaved to Captain Rhodes. The frustration of the ball, the worry about her mother, and her lack of sleep had all seemed to expand inside her until they’d burst out in a gush of words. She groaned. Had she truly resorted to obscenities? If the captain did not have a low opinion of her before, he certainly must now.

  She rolled onto her stomach and pulled a pillow over her head. What exactly had upset her so badly that she’d lashed out? Had she been so offended that he did not dance with her? She thought through the evening. While she’d felt disappointed at the ball and concerned about Lady Patricia, the moment that flushed her with emotion was when she’d seen the empty space where the captain’s foot should have been.

  Even thinking of it now, her heart ached for him, and accompanying the ache was hurt that he had not disclosed the secret to her. And atop it all was a hot wave of embarrassment. She’d been so selfish, teasing him about the ball and insisting he attend. Certain that she knew what was best, she must have humiliated him by making him promise to attend an event that only drew more attention to his inability to participate.

  But why had he not told her? His story of despondency in the hospital suddenly made more sense. A soldier without a leg must certainly feel inadequate. Poor Captain Rhodes. She understood completely why he would not want to make his disability known, and her eyes burned with sympathy. But what had hurt more than anything was Captain Rhodes thinking that she would be repulsed by his injury. Did he truly think she was such a shallow friend?

  Sita entered the room with a tray of breakfast, and the smell of warm eggs and toast roused Helen from her contemplations. She rose and moved to the small table in her bedchamber.

  Helen knew that in spite her own hurt feelings, she owed Captain Rhodes an a
pology, and she would offer it at the first opportunity. She only hoped she had not offended him too badly to repair their friendship.

  Sita told her that Lal Singh and Captain Rhodes had paid a call earlier in the morning to assess Lady Patricia’s health. Helen was a bit disappointed she had missed them and realized that the men must have had only a few hours’ sleep. She herself had no more than five, and it was nearly time for tiffin.

  Once she was dressed, Helen peeked inside her mother’s bedchamber. Lady Patricia was asleep, and when Helen touched her mother’s forehead, she found no fever remained. She breathed a sigh and sat in the chair next to the bed. Her mother slept peacefully—a welcome sight after the night before. Helen studied her face and thought of the other revelation of the night.

  A baby.

  Jim had not been the only one to nearly collapse at the news. Did her mother know? Or, when she woke, would it be a surprise to her as well? Helen smiled as she thought of holding a small pink brother or sister, but at the same time a tendril of apprehension worked its way into her mind. Lady Patricia was in her forties and had grandchildren. Was she healthy enough to carry a child? Would the child be well? She brushed a strand of hair from her mother’s face and kissed her forehead before quietly exiting the room, heading for the pianoforte. Music had always been her comfort, and right now she needed to sort through and understand her confusing range of feelings.

  As she walked through the entry hall, she saw a large arrangement of flowers on the table. When she lifted the card next to it, she found that it was addressed to her.

  She opened the envelope.

  Dear Lady Helen,

  Dancing with you was the high point of the ball.

  I am very sorry about your mother’s illness and regret that your early departure prevented you from visiting Lord Minto’s trophy room. If you are so inclined, I would be pleased to accompany you to see it another day.

  Lieutenant Arthur Bancroft

  Helen put the letter back on the table and studied the flowers for a moment. Large, white, trumpet-shaped flowers with tinges of violet on their petals sprang from the center, attached to thorny fruits that reminded Helen of hedgehogs. Other colorful flowers surrounded the white blooms. The display was grand and a bit gaudy for the entry hall. Besides, Helen didn’t like the bitter smell of the blossoms. Perhaps it would suit the drawing room better.

  She lifted the vase and thought of the handsome lieutenant. Dancing with Lieutenant Bancroft had been quite enjoyable. He was very skilled, and of course his dimpled smile and the curl that fell onto his forehead turned her insides to melted butter. How very considerate of him to send flowers. Helen placed the arrangement on a table near the window, far enough away that the smell wouldn’t bother her at the pianoforte. In spite of the thoughtful gesture, she had no inclination whatsoever to visit Lord Minto’s trophy room.

  ***

  Jim ordered every inch of the house to be searched for scorpions. The servants found and killed three before showing the creatures to the general and Helen. One black scorpion was quite large, and the sight of it gave Helen a shudder.

  But it was a much smaller specimen that made Jim’s face go pale. “Come near, Helen. I want you to see this.”

  She leaned closer and studied it. A servant held a wad of cloth with the smashed remains, but she could see the shape of it quite clearly. Its body was a reddish-brown, the legs and pincers a lighter tan color. The long tail curled around and ended in a pointed barb.

  “A red scorpion,” Jim said. “That creature is why you must always shake your shoes before putting them on, and if you do see one, get away, Helen, and call for help. You’d likely not survive a sting.”

  A cold finger of fear slid down her spine as she looked back at the red scorpion. It had been found in their house? Helen did not trust herself to speak and only nodded.

  “I do not mean to frighten you,” Jim said, “but you must understand.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “Good.” He waved his hand at the servant. “Now get that blasted devil out of my house.”

  Over the next days, Helen saw Captain Rhodes briefly in passing, but an opportunity to speak in private did not preset itself. Lieutenant Bancroft and Sergeant Carter had called each afternoon, but Helen only received them once for a short visit.

  Lady Patricia grew stronger, and Helen found her one morning at the sitting room table with Lal Singh, making notes in her sketchbook. Her ayah stood close by. Helen was disappointed that Captain Rhodes was not with the hakim.

  “Good morning, Helen, dear,” her mother said.

  Lal Singh stood and bowed.

  “Mamá, are you well enough to be out of bed?”

  Lady Patricia brushed away Helen’s concern with a wave of her hand. “Lal Singh and I are discussing herbal remedies. He has quite a knowledge of plants and their use. I thought it would be helpful to know the local names for the herbs, should I ever find myself in need.”

  She turned the page of her book and pointed at a star-shaped plant. “Morning glory, or bindweed” she said. She pointed to the notes beside the sketch. “Tea from the flower can induce vomiting.”

  The ayah said something to Lal Singh, and he nodded. He leaned closer to the sketchbook. “Hirankhuri,” he said once and then more slowly so Lady Patricia could transcribe the word.

  “Hi-ran-khu-ri,” she muttered.

  Lal Singh spoke to the ayah.

  “He says the tea from the leaves can treat spider bites,” the ayah said.

  “Very interesting.” Lady Patricia wrote in her careful script.

  “Mamá, please make sure you rest,” Helen said as she excused herself.

  ***

  A week after the Governor-General’s ball, Helen sat in the morning sunlight playing “Robin Adair.” She knew her mother loved the song, and Helen felt happy to be doing something to make Lady Patricia’s recovery more pleasant.

  She held the last notes and lifted her hands slowly, resting them in her lap the way her music instructor had shown her. At the sound of clapping, she snapped her gaze to the doorway.

  Captain Rhodes stood, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, applauding. Helen felt a burst of nervous energy skitter over her at the sight of him. Her heartbeat quickened. She breathed deep to give herself courage and stood, walking toward him on weak legs. The captain had every right to reject her apology after the way she had treated him, but she did not think she could bear it if he did.

  “Captain, I have something I must say to you.”

  “If you please, my lady, I should like to speak first.” He spoke without a hint of a smile.

  Helen felt as though she was sinking through the floor. The captain’s grave expression did not bode well, and her eyes began to prickle. Why did she always say the wrong thing? Now her words had ended a treasured friendship. She nodded her head and lowered her eyes, ready for the reprimand the captain was certain to give. She didn’t want to see the disappointment in his face.

  “My lady, I ask your forgiveness for the deplorable way I treated you.”

  Helen looked up. “But, Captain—”

  He shook his head and continued. “I hold your friendship in the highest esteem, but by my actions have failed to show it. I should never have made you feel as though you were not trusted. The thought that your estimation of a person would be based upon his appearance is beyond offensive, and you have never shown yourself to be anything but genuine. I am afraid my actions toward you were based on my own insecurities, and I offer my deepest apologies.”

  “But, sir, I should apologize to you. It was I who became angry and said—” Heat rushed into her cheeks at the memory of her outburst. “I am sorry for insisting that you attend the ball and then for allowing myself to be offended by something that I assumed instead of understood.” She lowered her eyes again. “I am particularly sorry for the way I spoke to you. My language was filthy and shocking. You have no need to apologize, Captain.”

 
He did not respond, and Helen glanced upward through her lashes to see a strange expression on the captain’s face. He seemed to be trying to hold back a smile.

  “Well, if that is the case, my lady, I guess I shall have to keep the gift I brought for you.”

  Helen raised her head to look at him. “A gift?”

  “Yes, I’d thought a token of my apology would . . . Well, it is of no matter since you assure me I have no need to apologize.” He took a step toward the door.

  He was definitely trying not to smile.

  Is he teasing? “Perhaps I spoke too hastily, sir.”

  Captain Rhodes’s brows rose. “You do accept my apology, then?” His eyes twinkled.

  He is teasing. “Yes. If you will accept mine.” She lifted her shoulders. “I will find it in my heart to forgive you for neglecting to inform me of your injury and for keeping your promise to attend the ball.” She allowed a smile of her own.

  “No, it is not enough.” The playfulness left his eyes. “You must forgive me for assuming that you would think any less of me because of . . .” He motioned toward his foot. “You are a true friend, Helen, and I should not have hurt you with my petty assumption.”

  The sincerity in his expression took her by surprise. “I forgive you, Captain.” She spoke solemnly, realizing how very important this was to him.

  He nodded, and the brightness returned to his eyes.

  Had his eyes always been a light gray? She wondered why she had never noticed. It was a very nice color, and in the beams from the windows she could see hints of red highlighting his hair. How had she not seen that before either?

  He offered his hand, and Helen shook it.

  “Then I shall also forgive you—for your surprisingly skillful usage of vulgarity.” His face broke into a grin, and Helen snatched her hand away.

  “It is very ill-mannered of you to mention it, sir.” Her face, neck, and ears felt unbearably hot.

  Captain Rhodes laughed, and the sound warmed Helen’s insides. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a wrapped parcel roughly the size of teacup and held it toward her. “Lady Helen, you can say anything you like or behave in any manner that suits your mood, and I would think no less of you.”