Lady Helen Finds Her Song

by Jennifer Moore

  Helen saw the servants had built a fire near the road and were unloading the implements to make a meal. Her legs and back were stiff. It might be the only opportunity to walk and stretch she’d have for hours, so avoiding the trees and anything that might be hiding within, she walked across the space toward the stream. As she walked, she listened to the sounds of the birds and the water trickling over the rocks. She noticed white flowers that looked like balls of cotton growing in patches throughout the clearing. She wondered if she should pick some to take home to her mother, but remembering what Captain Rhodes had told her about the innocent-looking dhatura, she did not touch any plants.

  She looked back toward the group, hoping to see Captain Rhodes. Why had he not sought her out before now?

  Lieutenant Bancroft caught her eye, lifted his hand in a wave, and made his way across the field toward her. When he reached her side, he gave a small bow. “Fine day to be out of doors, isn’t it, my lady?”

  Helen took his offered arm, and they began to stroll. “Very fine, Lieutenant.”

  “A welcome change from drilling. And I’d not be surprised if we meet with a fair bit of game as we travel north. Much less civilized that direction. We might even see a rhinoceros in the lowlands beneath the mountains. Or a bear.”

  “That sounds very nice.” Helen glanced nervously toward the tree line. She didn’t know whether the idea of meeting wild animals or of Lieutenant Bancroft shooting them made her cringe.

  “And I noticed there is no palanquin accompanying us. Smashing young lady you are to ride the entire way. I’d not have thought—”

  “Lady Helen!” They both turned at the sound and saw Captain Rhodes hurrying in their direction. His brow was furrowed, making him appear angry or frightened. “My lady.” He was breathing heavily. “Do not venture into the tall grass.” He moved his gaze over the ground near her skirt. “Cobras, my lady. They dwell near the water’s edge.”

  “Oh.” Helen clung tighter to Lieutenant Bancroft’s arm and whipped her head around, looking for any sign of a snake. “I did not know.” Her heart was racing.

  Captain Rhodes tugged on her other arm, pulling her from Lieutenant Bancroft and leading her quickly away from the stream and the tall grass. He did not glance back at her.

  She felt as if she were a child who had behaved badly and was to be punished. A lump grew in her throat. She’d been a fool earlier to believe the captain would have caught her eye and smiled as if they shared a sort of secret bond. This journey was work, not leisure, and she was extra trouble.

  “If you’ll excuse me, my lady. I must speak with the lieutenant,” he said.

  Helen rushed away. Her skin burned, and her ribs squeezed.

  Behind her, she heard Captain Rhodes’s voice. “Lieutenant, Lady Helen is not wearing thick soldiers’ boots. Have a care when . . .”

  She found Jim sitting on a thick root in the shade of a tree with large red blossoms. She joined him. Her throat was tight. After only a few hours, she had managed to disappoint the person she’d looked forward to impressing on the excursion. Helen did not have an appetite but managed to take a few bites of the food the servant brought her.

  She glanced up when a group joined them. She recognized the men who had stopped to pray and saw that one of them was Captain Rhodes’s servant. The man moved directly toward the officers, and Helen turned her eyes away, not wanting to meet the captain’s gaze and not knowing why she felt so embarrassed over the exchange near the stream.

  The meal was finished and the horses rested before the group started off again. Helen felt sick inside that she’d become such a bother to the captain, and she resolved not to be a burden on him or anyone else on the journey.

  The road was still crowded, but it seemed less cheerful now. People did not raise their hands or call out greetings as they passed. The midday heat and the dust were taking a toll on all the travelers.

  ***

  They stopped again, hours later, on a patch of hard-packed earth, finding bits of shade from the midday heat for a rest and tiffin. Helen joined Jim beneath a tree with many thin trunks that wound together as if they’d been braided. Little striped squirrels darted over the twisting branches and moved in and out of the roots. Helen was too tired to watch the animals or move away from them. A servant handed her a water skin, and she drank gratefully.

  She glanced up once as she ate and saw Captain Rhodes studying her, but she quickly turned her gaze away. The memory of his face when he’d marched her away from the stream made her feel heavy.

  The journey was much more difficult than she had imagined. She hurt all over from riding, and the dust churned up from the road became so thick that she kept her head down, using her bonnet to shield her eyes and holding a handkerchief in front of her nose and mouth. She hoped the horse would follow the others since she could hardly raise her eyes long enough to see their direction. But the factor that caused the most discomfort was the heat. The air she breathed was hot in her lungs. Her hair was damp. She thought the mixture of dust and sweat must be making a muddy mask over her skin and clothing.

  The men rode silently, their laughter and conversation gone as if the cheerfulness had been baked out of them by the Indian sun.

  She felt a touch on her arm and looked up. Jim squinted at her. “Are you well, Helen?”

  She could only nod.

  “Captain Rhodes informs me we’ve only an hour or so until we reach the dâk bungalow where we’ll spend the night.”

  Helen nodded again and tried to form a tired smile, but she knew it didn’t look convincing in the least. Another hour seemed like an eternity.

  “Haven’t complained once. That’s my girl.” Jim patted her arm again.

  Helen turned her burning eyes back downward. A swell of pride grew in her chest at his praise.

  The evening was growing dark when the company reached their stopping point. With Jim’s help, Helen dismounted and nearly collapsed. Her legs shook as she tried to stand. He put an arm around her and led her up the stairs of a small wooden building with a large porch.

  Captain Rhodes spoke to the owner of the inn—the dâk bungalow—and a moment later a servant woman appeared. Helen might have bid the gentlemen good evening, but she did not remember for certain. The servant led Helen into a room and helped her undress and wash. Helen found that her eyes would not remain open as she went through the motions of preparing for bed. The servant brought food, but Helen couldn’t remain awake long enough to eat. She spent her first night in the jungle deep in a dreamless sleep, where worries of tigers and frustrated military officers could not bother her at all.

  Chapter 14

  Michael kicked a rock across the dirt road, hearing a satisfying crack when his wooden foot made contact. Another hour remained before the men would break camp, but sleep had not come easily, and after a frustrating night, he’d finally risen. He paced back and forth in front of the dâk bungalow, working the stiffness out of his back and leg. He did not look forward to another day in the saddle. And he didn’t think any of the men did. Perhaps Lieutenant Bancroft was the exception. That man was decidedly a member of the Corinthian set. A sportsman before all—even before his duties as an officer and a gentleman, Michael thought. He was furious with the lieutenant’s negligence when it came to Lady Helen. Sending her dhatura flowers—not only were they extremely poisonous but also a sinister omen. The sight of them in Helen’s drawing room had chilled his blood. Michael’s ayah would have cast them out of the house and burned an offering to her gods, begging for protection from the evil the dhatura foreshadowed.

  A twist of guilt tightened in his gut. He was being unfair. Lieutenant Bancroft was a fine soldier who had no idea of the superstitious connotations of Indian flowers. He’d likely thought they were beautiful, and how could he be blamed for ignorance?

  Michael blew out a breath. He knew whence his ill feelings were derived. It was physically painful to see Lady Helen in love with the lieutenant.

  His hea
rt ached as he thought of her clinging to the lieutenant’s arm when Michael had warned her of cobras. And she’d brought the arrangement of flowers the lieutenant had sent into her drawing room so that she might look at them while she played the pianoforte.

  It was not Lieutenant Bancroft’s fault that Lady Helen was smitten with him. Michael hoped the man knew how extremely lucky he was to have that young lady’s affection. He himself would give anything for the pleasure. But seeing the flowers and their placement in the drawing room had been a sharp reminder that he needed to keep his feelings in check. Allowing his regard toward her to develop into something deeper would only end in heartache.

  He rubbed his eyes and blew out another breath. Lady Helen was beyond his grasp, and he had known it all along. If only his heart understood, and if only his mind would not return to thoughts of Lady Helen’s smile, her laughter, or her bright eyes, perhaps he would manage to sleep one of these nights.

  He looked up, watching the swooping bats that filled the sky. The sight of the large wingspan was typically a source of surprise for new recruits, but for Michael it was just another part of life in his homeland.

  Although Michael knew he should hold no ill feelings toward the man, it was, however, completely unacceptable for Lieutenant Bancroft to place Lady Helen’s life at risk as he had done by allowing her to walk through the tall grass near the stream. When he had a gift so precious as Lady Helen’s heart, he should protect her as she deserved.

  A movement at the corner of his eye caused him to look toward the veranda in front of the bungalow. Lady Helen stepped down the stairs, stretching her arms out to the sides as she breathed in the early-morning air.

  His heart skipped as he watched her. She was just a shadow, but he could see the grace of her movements. Even when she did not try. Did she have any idea how lovely she looked? Her figure was silhouetted against the lightening sky, and he did not think he’d ever appreciated how very feminine her curves were. He checked himself, taking a step back and shaking his head. What had gotten into him? Staring at a young woman without her knowledge? Now who had forgotten his place as a gentleman?

  She started walking toward him, and he knew she could not see him in the shadows near the side of the bungalow. He cleared his throat in order not to frighten her. “Good morning, my lady.”

  She twirled around at the sound of his voice and pressed her hand to her breastbone. “Oh, Captain Rhodes, it is you.”

  “I am sorry if I frightened you.”

  “Not at all. I was hoping to find something to eat. I fell asleep as soon as we arrived last night. Perhaps sooner. It is all a bit hazy.”

  He smiled at her honesty. “Come. I will ask my servant to fetch some breakfast.” He took her hand and slipped it beneath his arm, leading her toward the camp behind the building. The soldiers had begun to awaken, and the grunts of tired men preparing for the day sounded around them. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes. Very well.” Helen’s voice sounded distracted. She stopped walking but did not release his arm. “Captain?”

  “Yes, my lady?” He wished he could see her face clearly in the darkness.

  “I am sorry I made you angry yesterday. Overseeing an entire company must be difficult enough without a young woman who does not know—”

  “Angry?” He didn’t allow her to finish. He would not permit another apology when she had done nothing wrong. “I was most certainly not angry. Not with you, in any case. Terrified. But not angry.”

  She did not make any response, but she did not move away, which he took as a sign that she was contemplating his words.

  The feel of her hand on his arm—or perhaps the darkness—made him bold. “I worry about you, my lady.” He spoke in a low voice, meant only for her ears.

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Constantly.”

  He saw her tip her head to the side as if trying to read the expression on his face, but he knew she could not see him any better than he could see her.

  “I did not know that.” Her voice was nearly a whisper. She placed her other hand on his arm. “I will try not to do anything else to cause you to worry.”

  “I fear I will always—”

  The sound of something moving through the trees caused them both to jump. Michael stepped in front of Lady Helen, wishing he had a weapon of some sort, but he knew a shout was all it would take to bring a dozen armed soldiers running.

  He squinted, trying to make out a shape in the darkness.

  “Good day, Sahib.” Naveen stepped from the tree line.

  Michael allowed his shoulders to relax as his heartbeat slowed back to its normal pace. He turned to Lady Helen. “It is only my servant returning from performing his pujah.”

  “Please bring some breakfast for Lady Helen and myself,” he told Naveen in their shared language. He took her arm again, leading her toward the area where the men were gathering to eat.

  Helen sat on a low rock near the fire. “What is pujah?”

  “A Hindi prayer ritual. Some, like Naveen, perform it daily.”

  Helen pulled her brows together. “And your other servant, he prays with the Mohammedans?”

  Michael was surprised that Lady Helen had noticed the habits of the servants, but he knew she was interested in the rituals and customs of the Indian people. Her curiosity was one of the things he admired about her. She did not look at the practices with distaste, as did so many British women. “Basu Ram is a Mohammedan, yes.”

  Michael squatted down next to her.

  Helen jumped up and motioned to the rock. “Please sit, Captain. That position must hurt your leg dreadfully.”

  Her concern touched him. “Not at all,” he said, though he did not speak the truth. The strap pulled tightly, and the wooden leg dug into the sensitive skin under his knee. “I’ll not sit while you stand, my lady.”

  “I insist. There is room for both of us on this stone.” She sat on one edge and patted the flat space next to her.

  Michael would have been a fool to refuse such an offer. He stood and moved to the spot, stretching his legs before him. “Thank you.”

  Naveen brought fruit and bread on large banana leaves.

  They thanked him and ate in silence once he departed. Michael watched the firelight move over Helen’s face and tried not to stare at the light flickering in her eyes.

  Helen set the makeshift plate down on her legs and took a bite of the bread. She twisted her body slightly toward him. “Does it cause discord, Captain? Having so many beliefs in one household? Or do you all get along together in spite of the differences?”

  It took him a moment to realize she was still speaking of the religious practices of his servants. Lady Helen was not one to be distracted for long when something piqued her curiosity.

  “Oh, they argue constantly, but they respect one another, and I admire them for it. Many wars have been fought over religion—luckily none under my roof.”

  “I do not imagine for a moment that Badmash would put up with any disharmony.”

  “You are quite right.” Michael grinned. “That bag of fleas keeps all of us in line.”

  Helen looked up, and Michael stood as General Stackhouse approached.

  “Good morning, Helen. Captain. Ah, good, you’ve found breakfast. We depart soon.” The general continued past toward the other side of the fire, where the servants were preparing food. Michael looked behind him and saw that the majority of the camp had been dismantled and the horses were being saddled.

  “Very well.” Helen’s shoulders slumped. “I should see to my things. Excuse me, Captain. I do not want to make the party wait on my account.”

  Michael felt heavy inside at her expression. The journey was not easy. Last night he’d heard enough grumbling from seasoned soldiers to fill a book. A swell of pride warmed his chest. Lady Helen had not complained once, even though he could see from her expression and her exhausted form that the general had nearly carried into the dâk bungalow the night before that an e
ntire day on horseback had been extremely difficult for her.

  He squeezed her fingers. “Today’s ride will be easier and shorter. We leave the main road and take a course through the mountains. Much less dust, and it will not be so hot.”

  Helen did not pull her hand away. “That is a relief.”

  “You have not complained at all,” Michael said. He hoped if he kept her talking, she would remain a bit longer. “Just as you promised.”

  “I have not complained aloud. It is a good thing you cannot see into my mind. I fear you would see a different attitude completely.”

  “I cannot imagine anything but loveliness in your mind, my lady.”

  Lady Helen smiled and cast her gaze downward. He thought that if it was light, he would see a pink blush spreading over her soft cheeks. She gently released his hand. “Thank you for breakfast, Captain.”

  “My pleasure.” He watched her retreating figure as she walked around the side of the building, wondering if he should have offered to see her safely inside. But since it was only a few meters, he thought the proposal would have seemed silly. An ache welled up from his toes, growing in intensity until it stung his eyes and burst out of his mouth in a sigh that left him limp. If anyone would have told him he’d ever feel so strongly about another person, he would not have believed it possible, yet here he sat, mourning the empty space on the stone next to him and swallowing hard in an attempt to quell the pain in his heart.

  ***

  Michael led the party from the Grand Trunk Road northward to the mountains. As he’d promised, the ride was cooler beneath shady trees. The men’s spirits seemed to rise with the variation of the terrain, and he heard laughter and occasional singing behind him as the day stretched on.

  Where there had been crowds and a wide dusty road the day before, today they passed through wide meadows interspersed between patches of green jungle and rocky hills.

  They rode through a grove of banyan trees, leading the horses around the strange roots that grew down from the branches. Nearing a wide river, Michael did not hesitate to cross, knowing that the crocodiles would have moved to deeper pools this late in the season. The horses splashed through the shallow water and up the grassy hill on the other side. The land on the far side of the river was much more mountainous with thick vegetation growing over the rocky hills.