Echoes of a Promise (11 page)

‘Mil-ner.’

Victoria strained to catch the soft voice coming from her left. ‘Did you say that you’d like to become a
miller
? A
flour
miller?’

‘Nah! A
mil-ner
that makes ’ats for ladies.’

‘Of course! A
milliner
. And I’m sure a milliner always needs pink velvet ribbon, doesn’t she?’

The girl slowly emerged and sat cross-legged on the grass several yards away from Victoria’s chair. ‘Major Fairweather’s wife always wears the best ’ats. Flowers and feathers and veils. And she’s even got one with a pearl brooch on the front.’

‘That sounds very smart. Perhaps I’ll be able to come and buy a hat from your shop one day.’

When Molly looked up at last, her eyes were awash with tears. ‘I’m sorry I took your ribbon, missus. But I don’t want to be sent away to a mission.
Please
.’ She moved closer and put the now grimy length of velvet onto Victoria’s lap. ‘And if you tell me that I’ve got to go back to school, I will.’

‘Thank you for the ribbon, Molly, and yes, I think that school is very important for someone who wants to become a milliner. There’ll always be letters to write to customers and money to add up at the end of the day.’ The girls tears began to overflow onto her freckled cheeks.

‘Now, Molly, my name is Mrs Latham, and this house belongs to a very kind man called Mr Pelham. As soon as he comes home I’ll talk to him about the plans that the chaplain has been making for you.’ Molly sniffed loudly and wiped her sleeve across her eyes. ‘But first, I
think that a warm bath in my room would be the best idea.’

That bath was a novel experience for the girl, and it was followed by a big supper arriving on a tray. Though Duleep couldn’t hide his disapproval, a bed was made up for Molly beside Victoria’s, and her clothes were taken away to be washed.

‘Duleep, until I discuss this situation with Pelham-sahib, I don’t want one word about the child to leave this house. Is that understood?’

The sun had barely set when Molly’s head settled on the pillow and she was asleep well before Nigel arrived home.

‘Oh, no, Victoria! She can’t possibly remain here,’ he said, when she presented him with Molly’s predicament. ‘You mustn’t meddle. It’s a matter for the regiment to handle. This child is
not
your responsibility!’

‘Oh yes, she is, Nigel. An unprotected girl is the responsibility of all decent people.’ She looked at him squarely. ‘From what I’ve learned about your Maud, I’m certain that she would have had no hesitation in doing all she could to help Molly Collins. It’s just a matter of deciding
what
will be best for her.’

When Kitty arrived for dinner and heard the story, Victoria immediately gained an ally. ‘Nigel, my darling, we need to consider this carefully, so you must write to the chaplain right away to say that Molly Collins is here, but a little unwell and not fit to be moved until Mrs Latham deems it advisable.’

While Nigel went into his study and put pen to paper as she’d directed, Kitty and Victoria began searching for a possible solution.

‘If only we could find another woman to take her in – a capable, tolerant woman – kind, but firm,’ Kitty said.

‘And if the Regimental Benevolent Fund isn’t prepared to pay for Molly’s board and lodging for a few years, I’ll do it myself,’ Victoria added.

They drew up a list of names. It was a very short list that was quickly whittled down to one: Mrs Pettigrew, wife of the deputy health officer.

‘Oh, it’s hopeless!’ Kitty threw down her pencil. ‘Mrs Pettigrew is leaving here in two weeks. She’s taking Oliver home to start school.’

‘Well, my dears,’ Nigel said when he rejoined them, ‘I’ve sent a message to the chaplain, though you must realize that keeping Molly here for a few more days is merely delaying the inevitable. This can’t become her haven.’

Victoria frowned as she scribbled mindless circles on the pad. Nigel was right: Molly needed to find a
haven
. Just as she, herself, had needed a haven following that dreadful night in Hanover Square when her parents cast her out of their lives.

But she’d found her haven at Cloudhill with Emily and Martin. If only she could talk to Martin about Molly Collins.

She voiced those thoughts to Nigel. ‘Can’t you just imagine Molly being cared for at Cloudhill and going off to the village school each morning? Perhaps Mrs Frost could train her to become a parlour maid, or she might be given work with Mrs Dobson in the kitchen and even learn to cook if she showed some aptitude.’

Nigel agreed. ‘Any girl with a good reference from Cloudhill would have no difficulty finding employment in any great house.’

Victoria chewed her bottom lip. ‘But even if Mrs Pettigrew said that she was willing to take Molly back to England with her in a fortnight, I can hardly pack the poor girl up and send her over there without first writing to Martin and Emily and asking if they’d be prepared to find a place her at Cloudhill. Even if they said yes, it would take – oh, I don’t know how long to hear back from them.’

‘Then why not send Martin a cable?’

‘Is that possible?’

‘Of course. There’s not a corner of the Empire that can’t be reached by undersea cable these days. We could telegraph your message to Bombay and it would be relayed from there to England. It’s possible for an answer to arrive back here within a week.’

Actually, it took five days to receive Martin’s reply. ‘Happy to 
oblige. Send arrival details.’

When Victoria and Kitty put the proposal to Mrs Pettigrew she was less than enthusiastic, but her attitude softened and she almost smiled when Victoria proposed a purse of £50 to cover Molly’s travel expenses. ‘I think that this should cover any out-of-pocket charges that you might meet along the way, Mrs Pettigrew.’

‘I won’t pretend that I’m delighted to take on the responsibility of delivering Molly safely to your relatives in England, Mrs Latham, so please tell her that she must do everything I say. And remind her that I will tolerate no bad manners.’

Once the arrangements for Molly had been settled, Nigel presented them to the regimental chaplain. ‘Yes, the child has recovered her health – and my cousin in Somerset has offered to provide a place for her in his household. He’ll see that she’s given training in some useful area.’

The chaplain shook Nigel’s hand warmly. ‘Thank you, m’dear chap! You’ve taken a great weight from my shoulders. And I only hope that your cousin in Somerset has a strong constitution!’

Even though Victoria went to great pains to explain these plans in a positive light, Molly, who had grown up in a tumbledown house behind the barracks, was overwhelmed by the size of the changes that were about to come into her life.

‘The first thing, Molly, is to learn good manners and always remember to use them. We’ll start right now.’

Molly seemed eager to follow Victoria’s demonstrations on how a twelve-year-old girl should behave in adult company, how to handle her knives and forks at the table, how to chew her food quietly, how to keep her hands and face clean at all times.

‘You see, Molly, learning good manners is really like learning the rules of a game, or finding the answer to a secret code that everyone else knows. Once you know the rules and always follow them, the walls that keep people apart begin to disappear. Mrs Frost and Mrs
Dobson at Cloudhill will teach you all kinds of useful things and help you grow up into a capable young lady.’

Molly’s anxiety eventually started to disappear when Kitty arrived at the house with six dresses – all donated by families whose own daughters had outgrown them.

With her tawny hair washed and brushed and tied back with ribbon, Molly tried on each one, and gazed in disbelief at the reflection she saw in Victoria’s looking glass. ‘You mean I can keep every one? Oooh!’

Nigel permitted her to dine with them several times before she left for England.

‘You’re a bright girl, Molly m’dear, and a credit to your mother and father,’ he said, and slipped a gold sovereign into her hand as she was saying farewell to them all.

‘Remember to always eat slowly with your mouth closed, blow your nose quietly, don’t forget to say “please” and “thank you” – and you’ll do very well, m’dear.’

Nigel Pelham was beaming with pride as he entered the new ballroom at the clubhouse with Mrs Kitty Cameron on one arm and Mrs Victoria Latham on the other. They were almost the last to arrive because when Nigel and Victoria had called to collect Kitty from her cousin’s house, one of her blue satin dancing shoes couldn’t be found.

The whole place was in turmoil, and it wasn’t until Nigel had taken the boys aside for a few minutes that the shoe revealed itself.

‘Oh, Nigel, doesn’t the room look absolutely splendid with all the flags and greenery and flowers,’ Kitty said, giving his arm a squeeze as they entered. ‘I don’t mind if you dance once or twice with Victoria, but you simply must claim me for all the others.’

He smiled at her adoringly. He’d never been a a dancer, but he had every confidence that his dearest Kitty would tonight teach him the steps of each dance, just as surely as she was teaching him the steps of lovemaking. For the first time in all his forty-six years, Nigel Pelham was feeling like a young man.

Colonel and Mrs Moncrief received the trio of latecomers and had just introduced them to the great General Gordon Wyndham who was standing with them, when the Resident’s party entered the building to officially open the ball.

Sir Ian and Lady Phillips acknowledged acquaintances to the left and right as they passed along the line, and their youthful daughter,
Lucy, bubbled with excitement as she entered on the arm of her escort for the evening, Captain Wyndham.

‘Lackey!’ Victoria heard a deep voice mutter, and looked up to see the general beside her, scowling at his son.

This was the first time she’d seen Captain Wyndham wearing his uniform, and here in his red jacket with heavy gold braid and a row of decorations on his chest, she thought he looked very distinguished. She watched his glance sweep along the line of guests until he caught sight of her standing there. A flash of recognition lit his eyes and he looked away instantly.

‘Ah, good evening, Andrew,’ the general said loudly as his son and youthful partner were about to pass. Without warning, he grasped Victoria’s arm and pulled her forward a step, blocking the couple’s way. ‘Mrs Latham, I’m sure you know Miss Lucy Phillips, but have you met my son, Captain Wyndham?’

Whatever reason lay behind the general’s sudden move, Victoria had a sense of being clutched like a trophy in the man’s fist.

‘Good evening, Lucy,’ she said, then turned her eyes to the captain and shook her head. ‘No, we’ve not been introduced, have we, Captain Wyndham?’ With a calm smile, she held out her hand. ‘How do you do?’

‘Delighted, Mrs Latham.’ His expression remained tight, but instinct told her that he would ask her to dance before the night was through. She hoped he would.

The orchestra, seated on the stage, had been brought up from Lahore for this gala occasion, and the ball was opened by the Resident and the colonel’s lady completing a circle of the dance floor, to the applause of the guests. They were then joined by Colonel Moncrief waltzing sedately with Lady Phillips. The applause continued, and all the time Victoria could feel the uncomfortable presence of General Wyndham so close behind her that she could hear his breathing becoming heavier.

Then, to her mortification, he whipped a hand around her waist and,
without a word, swept her out onto the dance floor to join the two official couples. She stiffened with embarrassment at being dragged into the opening ceremony. It was an arrogant intrusion, but the general held her close against him, flaunting his strength and crushing her gown. Resentment flushed her cheeks and she found herself disliking him even more when she looked up and caught his triumphant expression. Self-important, swaggering, rude, overbearing—

Andrew was perfectly aware that his father’s crass behaviour towards Mrs Latham was a display put on exclusively for his son’s benefit.
Watch me, lackey, while I demonstrate how a man can always get exactly what he wants if he steps straight in and takes it.

When all the other couples were invited onto the floor, the general still refused to slacken his tight grip around Victoria’s waist. Over his shoulder, she could glimpse Captain Wyndham waltzing with little Lucy Phillips and, when the music stopped, she remained tightlipped as the general escorted her to a chair. She sat down and turned her head away with no intention of thanking him for the dance.

From his position with the Resident’s party, Andrew observed her from across the room. So, now he knew that her name was
Mrs Latham
. Time and again each day since the accident, he’d thought about the capable young woman who’d come to his aid when Annabelle was hurt and the horse was injured.

He cringed inwardly each time the memory of that dreadful afternoon came back to haunt him. Asking this unknown young lady to put the mare out of her misery had been outrageous. He should, at least, have expressed his gratitude to her right there and then, instead of simply walking away as he had done.

Since then, he’d kept his ears open for any faint whisper of gossip buzzing around the cantonment regarding a British captain with a child – and a horse so badly hurt that she had to be put down. But, clearly, he need have felt no concern about Mrs Latham’s discretion.

The mare’s injury was easy to explain in the regiment. ‘I was riding
too hard and she broke a leg when she fell. There was nothing for it but a quick bullet.’ The grey gelding he’d bought next day wasn’t a patch on the mare, but it was the best he could afford.

Andrew continued to stand where he was, watching the elegant Mrs Latham across the ballroom floor as she danced with one gentleman after another. There was something about her that was most appealing – the lively beauty in her face, the ready smile, her smooth high forehead. Not to mention the quick thinking she’d exhibited in front of his father when they’d come face to face this evening.
No, we’ve not been introduced
. A clever answer.

He signalled across the ballroom floor to a shy young officer to come and dance with Lucy, while he moved towards Mrs Latham as soon as she returned to her chair and thanked her partner.

‘May I have the honour of the next?’

She stood quickly, smiling. ‘Thank you, Captain. Yes.’

He was a full head taller than she and, for a man whom the gossips had said rarely danced, Andrew Wyndham held her confidently and moved lightly around the floor.

‘The little girl?’ she whispered. ‘I hope she has recovered?’

‘Completely, thank God.’

‘And your shoulder?’

Her query seemed to surprise him. ‘Better, thank you.’ He bent his head closer. ‘I’m afraid the whole incident was entirely my own fault, and I don’t know how I can ever apologize sufficiently for behaving as I did that day. Asking you to – well, asking you to do what had to be done was reprehensible. I’m profoundly sorry that you were thrown into the situation, though, I must say, that your aid was my salvation.’

‘It was an accident, Captain, and it was sheer good fortune that I happened to be there at that moment. I simply did what needed to be done – though I still don’t know
how
I was able to do it – but we won’t mention it again.’ She looked up directly into his eyes and smiled.

‘Just let me repeat, Mrs Latham, that drawing you into my predicament was an unforgivable imposition and I remain deeply in your debt.’

She raised a brow at him, and a sparkle lit her eyes. ‘Actually, Captain, if you would care to repay that debt, I’ll tell you exactly how you can do it. Er – look, they’re serving punch on the veranda, so perhaps we might go out there and have a glass while we speak?’

They left the dance floor and she waited by the veranda rail while he fetched the punch. He squared his shoulders and looked down at her, frowning. ‘Now, ma’am, please go ahead and ask of me what you will. Anything at all.’

‘Please don’t look so anxious, sir. I simply want to request your help in buying a toy elephant for my little nephews in England.’

‘Elephant?’

There was a little mischief in her chuckle. ‘Yes, I was in the market one day and I happened to be passing a woodcarver when I saw you buying a most beautiful elephant with a trunk that waved. After you’d left the shop, I went in and tried to tell the man that I’d like him to make one just like it for me. But he seemed to have no idea what I was talking about, so now I’d be most grateful if you would write a note in the local language for me to take to him:
This lady wishes to buy an elephant
. Or something like that? Seven little words in Urdu would repay any outstanding debt between us, I assure you.’

His stern face softened, then broke into a wide, white smile. ‘Ah! But nothing in India is ever as simple as you’ve suggested, Mrs Latham. The only solution is for us to visit the woodcarver together and talk to him about the matter. Say, tomorrow afternoon at three? May I call for you so we can ride down together?’

‘Thank you, but I don’t ride. I walk.’ The music had stopped and she saw her next partner coming from the ballroom to claim her.

‘Walk? Then I’ll walk with you.’ He spoke with some urgency.

‘Actually, I think it best if we just happen to meet at the
woodcarver’s workshop at three. You know how tongues here are likely to wag if we’re seen on the road together.’

Victoria arrived at the shop early but the captain, wearing his uniform, was already talking with the craftsman while a boy stood outside holding the reins of the grey horse.

‘Good afternoon, ma’am.’ He turned to greet her and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. ‘Allow me to present Thakur, the finest toymaker in Kashmir.’

She acknowledged the little old man who was watching her shyly.

‘Thakur has been telling me that he remembers you well, and he certainly did understand what you were asking on the day you came in here. However, he wasn’t able to explain to you that he couldn’t produce a copy of the elephant you saw because it had been made specially for me and, as a matter of honour, he’d vowed never to produce another.’ He spread his hands apologetically. ‘It wasn’t my request, I assure you, and I know that’s not the way English craftsmen do business. But this isn’t England, is it?’

‘No, it’s certainly not!’ There was laughter in her voice and she inclined her head towards the toymaker. ‘Captain, please tell Thakur that I apologize for my impatience last time I was here.’

Andrew spoke a few words and the toymaker gave a solemn bow in her direction. ‘Anyhow, Mrs Latham, I’ve already given him permission to make another elephant like it for you, along with a howdah and, as it’s for your nephews, why not ask him to make a couple of little princes to sit on the elephant’s back? But now you’ll have to decide how you’d like your elephant to be decorated.’

She pulled off her hat and sat beside him on a bench while the woodcarver produced a box of parchments and explained – with Andrew translating – the significance of the intricate swirling, colourful pattern illustrated on each sheet.

‘As you see, Mrs Latham, every great occasion has its traditional
design for the elephants taking part in it. Weddings, funerals, coronations, festivals, holy days.’

‘Oh, how can I possibly choose? They’re all so wonderful. Look at this one – and this!’

‘Annabelle’s toy is decorated for the wedding of a princess.’ There was a hint of pride in his tone. ‘Why not give your nephews something that’s used only by very great maharajas at festival time?’ He showed her a design with intricate swirls of red and gold, blue, green and white. ‘You won’t see anything more impressive than that!’

‘Yes, it’s certainly magnificent, but will it be ready by the end of the month? I’m leaving here after my cousin’s wedding.’

‘Thakur won’t disappoint you, I can promise.’

‘Splendid. Now, how do I say “thank you” in Urdu?’ She held out her hand to the craftsman.

‘It’s
shukria
.’

She said it, and the man smiled as their hands touched.

‘Well, at last I’ve learned one word of the local language,’ she said lightly as they left the shop and the boy holding the horse moved towards them. ‘Thank you very much for your help, Captain.
Shukria
, as we say in Kashmir.’ They shared a smile. ‘See, I’m learning! But I mustn’t delay you any longer this afternoon.’

‘You’re not walking back to the cantonment now? Is there something else here that you’d like to see?’

‘Yes, actually. I want to see anything and everything – I enjoy watching people going about their business.’ She shrugged. ‘I still have so few impressions of the real Kashmir to take away with me.’

‘Then, with your permission, Mrs Latham, I’d be delighted to stroll with you.’ He told the boy holding his grey horse to lead it back to the Residency stables while he and Victoria set off through the twisting lanes with their odours of apple blossom, donkey dung, enticing spices and smells from the tanning vats.

Andrew surprised himself with this singular readiness to postpone
his duty this afternoon and escort the delightful Mrs Latham through the streets of Srinagar.

Anyhow, it would be of no great consequence if the Resident was kept waiting for an hour or two to receive his report on the wily old maharaja’s latest move in the diplomatic cat and mouse game he regularly played during his weekly audience with the British Military Attaché.

His Highness delighted in dropping very unsubtle hints that he might be about to break the treaty he’d signed with the British and switch his loyalty to the Russians who’d always been eager to win a foothold in India. All through today’s audience, the maharaja had flaunted a new gift from the tsar – a heavy gold ring emblazoned with the Russian eagle.

‘By the way, Captain’ – Mrs Latham’s voice cut across his thoughts – ‘I’ve had no opportunity before this to mention an encounter that I had not long ago with your daughter and a most elegant lady at the Shalimar Gardens when I went there on the pretext of painting.’

‘Aha! So you were the nice lady who wasn’t cross with Annabelle when she ran into you? She’s told me about you.’

‘I’ve mentioned the incident to nobody, I assure you.’