Lady Helen Finds Her Song

by Jennifer Moore

  “Yes, sir. How much time do we have?” Michael asked.

  “Hours. He could even now be approaching the borders, though I don’t imagine his entire army will arrive for days. I want the brigade ready to march tomorrow at the latest.”

  “I will send word immediately, sir.”

  “Captain, I shall need you to remain here, assume command of Calcutta.”

  Michael’s stomach sank. He knew the general paid him a compliment by giving him such a responsibility, but he hated the reminder that his leg made him a better candidate for a supervisory position than for battle. “Yes, sir.”

  They both stood, and Michael saluted.

  “I know you will understand why I must delay your transfer request.” General Stackhouse squinted his eye. “I’d not leave this city, or my family, with anyone else.” His voice had taken on a low tone.

  “I understand, sir.”

  Chapter 24

  Helen sat at the pianoforte, her fingers drifting idly over the keys. The regiments of Jim’s brigade had left Calcutta the afternoon before, save for the company that remained to defend the city and the fort.

  Though the time was near to ten, her mother had still not risen from bed, an action quite unusual for Lady Patricia, who normally tended to her herb garden before the day grew too hot. Helen knew the sight of Jim cleaning the barrel of his weapon and applying grease to the firing mechanism had upset her mother more than Lady Patricia had let on. She’d kept her head high and smiled and waved until Jim’s horse had turned at the end of the street; then once he was out of sight, her shoulders had drooped, and Helen saw tears flow from her mother’s eyes. A sight she did not think she had ever seen before—even at her own father’s funeral.

  Lady Patricia had attributed her emotions to her delicate state, but Helen knew her mother was afraid.

  The notes Helen played took on a sad tone as she realized how worried Mamá was for Jim—and how worried she herself was. Soldiers marching to battle had never been a part of their world until Lady Patricia had married a military man, and suddenly the names and uniforms belonged to people they cared about.

  Helen listened to the rustling of the tatties—curtains woven from dried grass that the servants kept wet in hopes of cooling the room with a breeze—and the creak of the punkah as it swayed back and forth. She thought of the sound made by the gourd-shaped pungi, the mournful notes weaving over and around each other much like snakes in a basket. She absentmindedly followed the tune with the keys, trying to recreate the hypnotizing feel of the music.

  She remembered the day at the bazaar: the jingling of ankle jewelry, the chattering of monkeys, the lilting sound of people speaking rapidly together in a foreign language. She thought of Captain Rhodes, and her fingers faltered. What had changed since he’d brought her home from the moonlight picnic? He’d hardly spoken to her. Had she been mistaken to assume he loved her? Could she attribute his neglect to the worries over the regiment going to battle?

  The memory of that night, of feeling safe and warm in the captain’s arms, made her stomach leap and flutter. She tried to capture the sensation with the notes she played and found her tune taking on a quicker, higher tone.

  The love she knew Captain Rhodes felt for India blended together with her own fascination with the country. The sound of Azān filled her mind, and she incorporated it into her song. Helen allowed the music deep into her soul, opening her heart and letting the contents spill into the tune. The fear and later bravery of leaving her home, the love of her parents, the delight of the painted elephant, exotic birdcalls, a peacock that danced to foretell rain, the antics of a pet monkey, the silver moonlit jungle, the anticipation of a new baby, Captain Rhodes’s voice as he called her larla.

  Low chords joined the song as she remembered the worry of seeing her mother ill, the soldiers marching to battle, terror at being lost in a dark jungle, the tigers. The two sounds joined together into a tune that spoke so much emotion that Helen found tears dripping from her cheeks onto the keys. She continued to play until the sound of the music mirrored the deepest emotions of her soul.

  Helen dropped her hands into her lap and bowed her head, feeling fatigue take her energy. She wiped her fingers over her cheeks and decided she wouldn’t play anymore today. She wanted to hold the memory of her song in her heart and not allow any other music to disturb it while her sentiments were so raw. She didn’t know how long she remained, letting the song absorb into her mind, but a soft knock on the doorway of the drawing room roused her from her contemplations, and she looked up.

  The butler entered, placing his palms together and bowing his colorfully turbaned head. “Miss-Sahib, I am sorry to disturb you. The child who delivered this note said it is urgent.”

  Helen thanked him and took the paper from him. She saw only her name on the outside and did not recognize the handwriting. A small object fell out when she unfolded the paper, and it made a sound like a marble when it hit the floor. Helen knelt down, reached beneath a chair, and picked it up. A coral bead?

  She looked from the bead to the letter. Only one line was written on the paper. Meet me at the banyan tree near the garden wall.

  The Rani.

  Helen stood and slipped the paper into a pocket of her skirt as she hurried outside. As she walked toward the large tree, questions tumbled through her mind. Had Rani-Sanjana left the palace? Was she in danger? Why had she sent for Helen? Was she hiding?

  A woman wearing a blue sari stood near the tree. Her sari was wrapped around her hair and face so that only her eyes showed.

  When Helen was near, the woman moved the covering from her face enough that Helen glimpsed who she was. Prema, the Rani’s ayah.

  Helen opened her mouth, but Prema held up her hand. “Do not say my name.” She spoke in a low voice, her eyes darting around. “I must speak to you.” She led Helen deeper into the hanging roots of the tree.

  “Has something happened to the Rani?” Helen asked in a whisper.

  Prema shook her head. “My mistress sent me to warn you. The army is moving into a trap.”

  Helen’s heart began to pound. “I do not understand.”

  “Explosives. When the soldiers march through the gorge, they will be crushed.”

  Captain Rhodes would know what to do. “Come with me to the fort, you must tell—”

  “No. I leave now before I am seen.” Prema’s eyes were wide with fear.

  “Why did you come to me?” Helen asked. “Why did she send you?”

  “The Rani likes you, Lady Helen. She does not have many friends, and”—Prema leaned closer, her whisper barely audible—“the Shah is wicked.”

  “It was dangerous for you to come,” Helen said, realizing now why Prema’s eyes were wide and her voice a whisper.

  “Yes. I cannot return.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “It will be safer for both of us if I do not tell.”

  Helen gestured toward her house. “You can stay here. The army will protect you.”

  Prema shook her head. “No. I will obey my mistress and not put you in danger.” Her eyes softened, and Helen realized she was sad. This woman had given up her position, left her home behind, and put her life in danger to deliver her message.

  “Will you wait here for just a moment?” Helen said. “Please do not leave before I return.” She didn’t wait for an answer before running inside and up the stairs to her bedchamber. She poured the contents of her reticule onto the bed, grabbing her pin money and stuffing it into the pouch with the Shah’s jewel, then she ran back outside, praying that Prema was waiting.

  She stood in the same spot beneath the banyan tree.

  Helen put the pouch into her hands. “Take this. And please, if you need anything, send word. I will—”

  “No, you will not see me again.” Prema clasped her hands.

  “Thank you.” Helen blinked at the tears that had pooled in her eyes. She waited for a moment, watching as the woman hurried from the garden and d
own the street, but Prema did not turn before disappearing into the crowded Calcutta street.

  Helen did not allow herself to contemplate. Any time lost could make the woman’s sacrifice in vain. She rushed to the stables and asked a syce to saddle a horse—her own had not returned from the jungle—then rode as quickly as she could from Chowringhee, through the maidan, toward Fort William.

  When she reached the main gates, a soldier stepped from the guardhouse.

  “I am looking for Captain Rhodes. Is he here?” Helen said.

  “Left near half hour ago, my lady.” The soldier shaded his eyes as he looked up at her. “’Spect he’ll return after tiffin.”

  Helen thanked him and turned the horse toward Captain Rhodes’s house, hoping he was at home.

  When she approached the bungalow, she saw the captain and his two servants sitting in the shade of the porch. The three men jumped to their feet.

  “My lady.” Captain Rhodes caught the reins and assisted her from the horse. “What is wrong?”

  “A trap, Captain. The army is in danger. Jim—” Her voice caught, and she shook her head from side to side, frustrated that she would allow her sentiments to prevent her from delivering the message.

  Captain Rhodes lifted her hand gently, and his gray eyes held hers. “Tell me.”

  She cleared her throat as his steadiness calmed her. “A messenger came to me from the Rani. From her ayah. There are explosives, and the pass is a trap. When the soldiers march inside, the Shah means to explode the rocks and crush them.” Now that she no longer felt desperation to deliver the message, the realization of what the Shah intended to do crashed down on her, tightening her insides and filling her with fear.

  “And you are sure this messenger tells the truth?”

  Helen had not even considered that Prema would have told a falsehood. “I . . . I think so. She seemed truthful, and she risked her life to bring the message. She appeared frightened.”

  He studied her face for a moment then spoke quickly to his servants. He turned back toward Helen. “I must warn them.”

  The thought of Captain Rhodes rushing toward an exploding mountain made her knees feel like jelly. She clutched his arm.

  Naveen stepped out of the house with a pack, a musket, and a sword.

  Helen clutched Captain Rhodes’s arm tighter as her fear became a reality. “Captain, surely you can send someone else.”

  Basu Ram led the captain’s gray horse toward them.

  “There is no one else, my lady. I know the route.”

  Basu Ram fastened the musket to the saddle, and Captain Rhodes pulled his arm free to attach his sword around his waist. He scribbled a note on a paper, asking Naveen to deliver it to the fort, and Helen watched helplessly as he mounted his horse.

  This might be the last time she saw Captain Rhodes alive. Her head felt light. “Before you go—”

  “I will make sure he is safe, Lady Helen.”

  “Who?”

  “Your fiancé. Do not fear.”

  Helen stared at the captain. What could he possibly mean? “Captain . . .”

  “I dare not waste another moment. I will do all in my power to keep the man you love safe.” He lifted his hand in a farewell and spurred his horse, riding away from her in a cloud of dust.

  “But, that man is you,” she said in a small voice that was swallowed by the pounding of hooves. Helen’s heart ached, and she thought her legs would give way. Not caring that his servants glanced at one another with uncertain expressions, she sank down onto the porch steps and covered her mouth with her hands.

  Something pushed at her arm, and Helen looked down to see Badmash sitting on the step next to her. His dark face was turned up toward her, and he laid his hand on her elbow. Helen stroked her hand down his furry back, and he snuggled against her leg. She glanced toward her horse and saw it drinking from a bucker of water. One of the servants must have tied it to a tree branch near the bungalow.

  She turned around when she heard footsteps behind her.

  Basu Ram stepped around the side of the bungalow. He kept his head bowed as he approached Helen and handed her a large banana leaf with chunks of mango and watermelon. Naveen must have left to deliver the captain’s message.

  Helen took the fruit and placed it on her lap, feeling suddenly self-conscious. The poor man must not know what to do with a weeping woman on his master’s front porch.

  Badmash snatched a piece of fruit and took small bites, dripping juice onto her skirt. Helen returned to stroking the monkey’s back. The small animal’s presence was soothing.

  “Thank you. I am sorry to be a bother, Basu Ram. I will not linger.”

  “You are welcome to remain as long as you wish.” He crouched down on the ground in the porch shade and gazed at the road Captain Rhodes had taken. “I have no children. Since he was a small boy, Rhodes-Sahib is like my son.”

  “I care about him too,” Helen said, surprised with herself for speaking the words aloud for the first time and even more surprised at the person she’d chosen to confide in.

  “Yes, I know, Miss-Sahib.”

  Helen studied his face. Basu Ram’s beard and curled mustache were nearly white. His hands were gnarled, the dark skin around his eyes wrinkled. At first glance, he was not pleasant to look at, but he carried an air of serenity that calmed Helen’s frantic nerves. Though it was strange and decidedly improper, she found herself wanting to remain on Captain Rhodes’s front porch, eating fruit, conversing with his servant, and petting his monkey. Perhaps because it was a way to feel close to him.

  But it was only a matter of time before her mother would wonder what had become of her. She lifted Badmash from where he rested on her leg and set the banana leaf on the step.

  “Thank you, Basu Ram.” She walked toward the horse, looking around for a way to mount.

  Basu Ram turned over an empty bucket and motioned for her to use it like a mounting block. Once she was atop the animal, he handed her the reins, much like he had done with Captain Rhodes only a half hour earlier. “Do not fear, Miss-Sahib. He will be well.”

  Helen could only nod as she turned toward home. Though it was not yet noon, the emotional whirlwind of her day left her feeling weary, and when she arrived at the general’s mansion, she made her way straight to her bedchamber.

  Sita helped her to undress, raising her brows at the juice and monkey fur stuck to the skirts, but Helen’s red eyes must have been the reason she remained silent.

  Helen lay on her bed, staring up through the mosquito netting as Sita wetted the tatties at the window. Helen’s limbs felt heavy, and her chest ached. If only she had told him before he’d left. If only Captain Rhodes knew he’d taken her heart with him.

  Chapter 25

  For the remainder of the day and through the night, Michael rode Ei-Zarka hard, stopping only to rest and water the horse. He was two days behind the marching regiments, but a lone horseman should be able to overtake a slow-moving army. His only hope was that he would reach them before they entered the pass.

  As he galloped through the green hills, he tried not to allow memories of traveling this same path with Lady Helen to distract him. But his body ached, and his mind was tired. Try as he might, he couldn’t push the thoughts away. Finally, he allowed himself to feel the full force of the emotions he’d fought against since the moment he’d met Lady Helen on the docks of the Hooghly.

  How had his life changed so completely in a matter of weeks? He felt raw. His heart had been pulled in so many directions, yet he’d continued to allow it to happen—allowed himself to feel so deeply for a woman he’d known all along would never feel the same toward him. And now he suffered the consequences, watching her fall in love with someone else. The ache inside his chest grew, and he pushed Ei-Zarka harder, wishing he could outrun his own feelings.

  He’d promised Lady Helen to return Lieutenant Bancroft home safely, and that oath kept him moving forward, focused on his goal. He could not bear to return to her with the
news that he’d not been fast enough.

  He splashed through the river, and his mind turned to the messenger from the Rani. Had it been a trick? The Shah had found servants who had served in British households, no doubt as a way to expand his understanding of the English, perhaps even to tailor them as spies. Michael would not put much past that man. He tried to think through the various schemes that the Shah might be planning and could come up with no reason the man would send a message to Lady Helen warning her of a trap.

  If he intended to reroute the army through the hills, he would have the disadvantage as the British would be able to maintain their cavalry lines and infantry columns that made its army the most deadly force in the world. The pass was the part of the journey the general had hoped to avoid, hoping, perhaps, that the Shah’s army would meet them in the clearing before they had to travel through the narrow canyon, where the army would be stretched thin and left vulnerable.

  Why would the Shah want to give up the one advantage he had?

  Michael turned these thoughts over in his mind and wondered again about the messenger. He didn’t like the fact that the Rani’s servant had managed to reach Lady Helen so easily, and in the note to the lieutenants in his company, he’d requested special guards to be stationed around the general’s house. The Shah had singled out Lady Helen as the source of his troubles, and Michael was frustrated that he’d not thought of setting a watch over her earlier.

  ***

  When he finally arrived in the clearing before the pass, he saw the army had halted. His eyes traveled around the space until he found General Stackhouse beneath a canopy on a small rise, in conference with the colonels of the different regiments. He saluted the rear guard as he passed and galloped straight toward the officers.

  The all looked up when he approached.

  General Stackhouse’s face turned ghost white when he saw Michael. “Captain, what has happened?”

  “A trap, sir. Lady Helen received a message from the Rani. The pass is set to explode.”