Echoes of a Promise (12 page)

‘Thank you.’ They shared a smile. ‘As you must have guessed, it’s not known here that I have a daughter, or that the Begum Raziid Khan is caring for her at the moment – summers on the houseboat, winters on her estate near Amritsar.’ He paused for a moment. ‘The begum was extremely kind to me when I was a boy and when Annabelle arrived in my life, she was the only one I could turn to for help.’

Victoria was intrigued, but ingrained tact prevented her from asking any of the myriad questions flying around in her mind. There was much more to this tall, dark man than he seemed willing to reveal.

‘And, by the way,’ he added with a knowing grin, ‘the begum is on very good terms with the old maharaja up there on the hill, and it was she who persuaded him to have the Shalimar Gardens put back into
order. She’s finding it increasingly difficult to keep a growing child confined to the deck of a houseboat.’

Victoria chuckled. ‘I can well imagine—’ Before she could say more, they came to a display of shawls hanging outside a cave-like shop. She halted and, in an instant, the sharp-eyed merchant appeared in his doorway, draping more shawls over his arms.

‘Oh, they’re beautiful.’ She fingered the ones held out to her. ‘How fine they are. Actually, I’d love to buy a couple of these for my sisters. Captain, would you be kind enough to come in and show me the way business is done in this town?’

The merchant’s sons rushed to bring chairs for them while the shelves were emptied and, one by one, every shawl was unfolded and displayed. With so many to choose from, the selection was a pleasant, time-consuming exercise and, in the end, she thought that the price negotiated by the captain and the merchant seemed ridiculously low. Five English shillings for two? However, as they walked from the premises with her purchases wrapped in brown paper, all parties were wearing satisfied smiles.

They stopped to watch a goldsmith working at his craft, and then a potter throwing clay on his wheel and forming it into a long-necked urn within a few minutes. A little further along the lane, their way became blocked by a cluster of people around a frail-looking old man in a brown cloak who was seated on a stool with a shallow dish of hot oil standing before him on a brazier. The crowd parted as they approached.

‘Well, look at this! Here we have an augury at work.’ Andrew raised his eyebrows at her. ‘Would you like him to look for omens, or tell you what he can see in your future? He can read them all on the surface of his oil.’

‘No, certainly not, thank you. I don’t believe in any nonsense of that kind.’ She laughed as if it was a joke and was about to turn away when the old man lifted his rheumy gaze. It locked with hers, and suddenly she found herself rooted to the spot while swirling, iridescent patterns
on the surface of the hot oil began to move. The man’s toothless mouth worked soundlessly, until at last he gave a nod and looked down to study whatever messages he could read in the shifting, changing patterns and colours of the oil. All at once she found herself breathing fast, as if she’d been running.

Andrew stood close beside her and offered his elbow. She slipped her hand into it and stood mesmerized as the soothsayer frowned and muttered, lost in his own mysterious world. When he began to speak, his voice was cracked.

‘The black water that stole what you most treasured is now calm.’ Andrew translated the old man’s words and whispered them into her ear. ‘Children are waiting to come into your life, many daughters, and you must not allow yourself to be hindered by doubt or trepidation. Look in the right direction and you will discover your destiny is waiting all around you. Close your eyes and see it with your mind. Search for it in your heart.’

When the old man looked up, the light seemed to leave his eyes and he held out his hand to collect the coins that Andrew offered.

‘Oh!’ Victoria felt a shiver shoot down her spine and she tightened her grip on Andrew’s arm as they walked away. ‘Whatever was he talking about? How ridiculous he was. How could he possibly see my destiny in that oil?’

She scoffed, but out of nowhere, an image flew into her mind of the nameless young woman lying dead in an East End tenement. And of Molly Collins, the motherless daughter of a dead trooper. Why should these totally unconnected girls both tumble into her thoughts at that moment?

A few paces around the corner they came to a small teahouse. ‘I’m sorry if the old fellow’s ramblings have upset you, Mrs Latham. Perhaps a cup of tea will help.’ He led her inside to a table.

‘No, I’m not perturbed, Captain. Just puzzled.’ Deep in thought, she took several sips from the cup brought to her and then looked up at him.
‘It’s strange, but I think I can understand what was behind that message regarding the
black water being calm now
. My husband died in the East Indies nearly four years ago, and when I first received that news, I was thrown into a raging black ocean of grief. I was drowning in it and for a long time I could barely keep myself afloat. Such a long time.’ She bit down on her lower lip.

‘It was only when I came up here into the mountains that I was able to face the fact that Peter had gone to his rest and that I was quite alone. And once I could acknowledge that truth, I felt my wild black ocean grow calm.’ She tilted her head and smiled softly. ‘You see, I can even talk about him now, and that’s how it should be, because Peter Latham was a fine man who shouldn’t be forgotten.’

As Andrew listened, he longed for the ability that some men possessed to find the sensitive, appropriate words that moments like this required. He wanted to tell her that no man could ever hope for more than to have his wife express these heartfelt sentiments in his memory. But he was too clumsy and ill-practised to attempt to express tender feelings, and could do no more than give a slight nod of understanding. She looked at him with a tentative smile, and he returned it.

‘It might seem incredible, Captain, but when Peter and I first met, we fell in love between one heartbeat and the next. It was extraordinary to feel so sure, so quickly, about something like that.’ She stopped abruptly. ‘Oh, do you mind me talking to you like this?’

‘No, not at all. Please—’

‘Well, you see, I went to stay with an elderly aunt in Devon, and she lived near a little shipyard where Peter and his uncle had their vessel under repair….’

He rested his elbows on the table and listened to the tale of her meeting with Peter and his uncle, and the adventure of sailing with them on the
Fortitude
.

‘Captain Latham married us at sea, but Peter died of a fever over
there on the other side of the world, so he never did come back for me.’

He heard the faint tremor in her voice, but she drew in a deep breath to steady it and went on to tell him about Aunt Honoria and her worldly advice. ‘She always said the dark moments that come into our lives make the rest of it seem all the more brilliant. And I’m sure she was right.’

He leaned closer. Her voice was musical, and she had a way of subtly colouring her words to reveal shades of feeling. He was captured by her ability to speak openly about her emotions and permit him to look into her heart.

‘Peter and I had planned for me to sail with him on his next voyage and, after that, I was going to spend my life at sea. I wanted to learn how to navigate and make myself useful on board.’ For a moment she gazed thoughtfully into the distance. ‘I’ve always felt the need to be
useful
, y’know, but it’s so difficult for a woman like me to find something worthwhile to fill her life.’

Again, he longed to produce some kind of appropriate response, but the right words evaded him.

She swung her gaze to meet his and frowned. ‘Oh, Captain! What did the augury say about children?’

‘
Children are waiting. Many daughters
.’

‘Many children are waiting for me? How extraordinary. I once worked with the volunteers at a hospital for foundlings – helping to bathe and feed them, or looking after them when they were ill.’ She gave a sceptical frown. ‘But that’s all years ago now. Besides there was rarely a shortage of volunteers, so they can’t possibly be waiting for
me
to come back.’

‘But perhaps you
will
work there again when you go home to London.’

She shrugged. ‘Captain, I’m not sure where I’ll go when I leave Kashmir. I have no home – either in London nor anywhere else. The house I grew up in is now leased to strangers and my parents have gone
to live in the South of France.’

‘Will you be joining them there?’

‘Hah!’ She shook her head. ‘They’ve declared me
persona non grata.
They’ve never forgiven me for eloping with a sailor and creating a scandal that provided all the ammunition needed by Mama’s
long-time
foe to win their endless, point-scoring battle.’ She spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

‘Mama and this lady were bitter rivals in their youth, and the situation between them grew increasingly spiteful as the years passed. They both went out of their way to make sure that their paths crossed at every opportunity, and each time they did, they’d both unsheath their claws and try to draw blood.

‘I can’t tell you how many times I saw that happening. And it’s the main reason why my mother flew into such a rage when she heard that I’d lowered the social standing of the Shelford family by marrying Peter, and therefore providing her enemy with a perfect weapon to deliver the
coup de grâce
.’

For a moment she sat with her own thoughts. ‘I grew up believing that, no matter how unforgiving my mother might be, I’d always be able to rely on my father to listen to whatever I needed to talk to him about. I was sure that he’d stand by me. But – no, I think that this was the very first time in my whole life that I’d ever disappointed him, yet he instantly turned his back on me. Literally. I can’t tell you how much that still hurts.’

He recognized her genuine distress and felt deeply for her. ‘Hard to believe,’ he muttered inanely.

‘Oh, it’s true enough. That’s why my parents and I are no longer on the best of terms.’

Tentatively, his hand slid three inches across the table towards hers. Then thinking better of it, he pulled it back and reached for his cup. ‘You have my sympathy, Mrs Latham. I’m not on the best of terms with my parents, either, but then, I can’t recall a time when we were ever on good terms.’

‘Hmm.’ She straightened on her chair. ‘Yes, I certainly saw no sign of affection between you and the general at the ball last night.’

‘It’s always been like that. When I was three, my mother found the courage to run away with her lover, and I haven’t heard a word from her since. My father packed me off to a well-known “flogging school” in England at the age of six – one of the places designed to put backbone into miserable little boys and set them on the road to becoming brave British soldiers. He told me that I’d thank him for it, but I’m still waiting for that day to arrive.’

She passed her cup for more tea. ‘It’s supposed to be against all the rules of nature, Captain, but I’m afraid that parents do sometimes let their children down badly.’ She looked up and gave him a slow, warm smile. ‘But I know for certain that, no matter what twists and turns Annabelle’s path through life might take, you would never turn away from her. You’d listen and you’d at least
try
to understand. She’s a fortunate little girl indeed to have you as her papa.’

‘Annabelle is all I have. And I’m all that she has, Mrs Latham.’

‘Oh please do call me Victoria. We’re friends now, aren’t we – Andrew?’

He found it disconcerting to realize how swiftly their conversation had slipped into these sensitive, personal areas. He’d never before spoken of his private life to anyone. In fact, he’d been taught to conceal feelings and to regard emotion as a weakness. Emotion made a man vulnerable. But until now he’d never encountered a woman quite like the one who was sitting on the other side of this table.

‘Friends, indeed, Victoria. I thank you.’

‘I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed our time this afternoon.’

He was hit by a strong reluctance to part from her. ‘Perhaps I could show you a little more of Kashmir before you leave? Different civilizations have come and gone in this valley for a thousand years and more, and I can take you to visit some splendid sights up in the hills around Srinagar – glorious views, the ruins of an old royal observatory,
a Hindu temple. We could a picnic and—’

‘Thank you, yes, I’d enjoy that very much, if you’re sure you can spare the time. So far, even after being here for weeks, I still understand very little about this country because nothing ever seems to be clear or straightforward.’

He laughed. ‘Yes, if you don’t view life the way an Indian does it’s hard to make sense of the things you see going on around the place. I hope I might be able to throw a little light on a few aspects when we get away from the cantonment. Sorry I can’t suggest a day until I’ve checked my duty list for the next week, but may I send you a message?’ He became aware that he was suddenly grinning like a schoolboy.

‘My time is my own, Andrew. Any day that’s convenient for you will suit me perfectly.’

As dusk had begun to settle over the town by now, there was no question of Victoria walking home unescorted. When they left the teahouse, she slipped her arm through his again and, with her hat swinging by its ribbons in her hand, they strolled back to Nigel’s house, still talking and unconcerned about whether or not they might be observed together.

Andrew’s hopes of finding the time to ride out one day soon with Victoria Latham rapidly faded when he saw the list of duties waiting for him in the next week.

Colonel Moncrief required him to attend a briefing on the intelligence that had just come in concerning a Russian scouting party having been intercepted while they were surveying mountain trails through the Hindu Kush. The rumblings of unrest were growing louder along the North-west Frontier – broken alliances, tribal skirmishes and
jehads
which seemed to have been deliberately ignited by an outside interest: Russia.

Which way would the maharaja jump if the tsar’s force reached the borders of Kashmir? Captain Wyndham was instructed to gain this information from His Highness on the hill – by threats, by wheedling, by offering inducements.

And if this wasn’t enough to keep Andrew busy, the Resident wanted him to be available to act as an escort for a lady and her daughter who were coming to spend a holiday at the residency.

The ladies were acquaintances of Lady Phillips’s sister in London, but if it had been the Queen herself arriving, poor Lady Phillips could not have been in a greater flurry of anxiety about the visit.

‘No, not those dishes – I said I wanted to use the Minton service! And please put the new quilts on the beds. Oh, do make haste to change those carpets!’

Andrew groaned when he was given his list of escort duties in the week ahead. Lord, if he didn’t soon move out of this job, he really
would
turn into the lackey that his father had accused him of becoming. At least it was a relief to know that the general had gone up to the mountains to hunt bears and leopards, and wouldn’t be here to witness the kind of work that his son was being required to perform.

At the conclusion of his official inspection of the regiment, Gordon Wyndham had surprised everyone by going off into the mountains with a hunting party which also included Mr and Mrs Cooke, visitors from Bombay.

There’d been winks and nudges in the officers’ mess when the general had announced a change of plans and delayed his return to Delhi after meeting the enticing Beatrice Cooke at dinner one evening. Wyndham was a master of any sport which involved guns or women, but Andrew didn’t pause to wonder what success his father might be having in this current game of hunting another man’s wife. Even if he captured the lady, it wouldn’t last. These affairs of his never did.

Andrew sent a note of apology to Victoria, expressing regrets that his free time this week had been eroded, and hoping that there would be an opportunity for their picnic next week. In quiet moments, he often thought about her. She was quick witted and perceptive; a woman with no artifice, affable without being effusive, a woman with whom a man would find it possible to form a true friendship.

And one night before he dropped off to sleep, he came to the conclusion that her hair wasn’t truly brown at all: in the sunlight, it became the colour of newly-sawn mahogany – auburn, chestnut, copper, bronze.

One afternoon, as he rode down at sunset from the fort, following one more long, inconclusive audience with the maharaja, he felt far too weary to spend another evening in the company of Lady Phillips’s visitors from London.

Both mother and daughter were painfully self-important and
patronizing, and his own meagre supply of social chit-chat had been exhausted during the first fifteen minutes in their company. Sir Ian’s new young aide, he decided, would have to perform the expected niceties that night at the dinner table.

So, instead of reining in at the residency compound, Andrew rode on to Nigel Pelham’s house. It was over a week since he’d parted ways with Victoria and the impulse to see her again had been growing stronger in him all day. How much time remained before she packed her bags and left Srinagar? After he’d knocked on the door and asked to see Mrs Latham, he stood slapping his riding crop impatiently against his riding boot. Once she was on her way back to England, their paths were unlikely to ever cross again.

‘Andrew!’ The taffeta skirt of her cream dinner gown rustled as she hurried down the stairs, smiling. ‘How good it is of you to call. Do come into the drawing room; we actually have some chairs ready to use again.’

He caught a pleasant scent about her like fruit and flowers. ‘Thank you, but no, I can’t stay. Sorry. I just wanted to give you my apologies for having failed to honour my promise to—’

‘I won’t hear another word,’ she scolded gently. ‘I know you have a busy schedule, and
you
know that I’ll be glad to see you at any time.’

The warmth in her voice made his weariness fade, and he was hit by an uncharacteristic and utterly irresistible impulse. ‘Victoria, I know it’s short notice, but I’d like to take you for that picnic in the hills tomorrow, if you have no other engagement. There’s a lot to see up there, interesting places to visit.’

She gave a laugh of surprise. ‘Oh, yes, but you do remember, don’t you, that I’ve never ridden a horse? We’ll have to go very slowly. Shall I come down to the stables? What time would you like me there?’

He felt like a schoolboy thumbing his nose at the detention given by a bad-tempered headmaster. Young Wyndham was going to climb from the schoolroom window tomorrow morning and escape for the day.
Damn the old maharaja playing spiteful games in his hill-top fort, damn the Russians marching towards the border, and damn Lady Phillips’s painful visitors! Let them all stew for a day, he thought wildly. Sir Ian’s poor young aide could have the wretched duty of escorting the London ladies to a regimental band concert tomorrow afternoon because Captain Wyndham would be in the mountains, enjoying the company of the delightful Victoria Latham.

‘Is nine o’clock too early for you to be at the stables?’

‘Not at all! And thank you again, Andrew. I look forward to it.’

Andrew grinned to himself as he rode back to his house in the Residency compound. He claimed pressure of work when he sent his apologies to Lady Phillips and called for dinner to be brought to his study.

Ah, yes, tomorrow. He was about to share a whole day with a woman who was like no other he’d ever known. In the short time he’d spent in her company, he’d found her to be warm and open, with no whiff of coquetry in her manner. It was ridiculous to be feeling like a schoolboy at his age, yet each time she came into his mind, she roused a dangerous longing within him – and one that was not
entirely
carnal.

He drew in a deep breath and steadied his breathing. Then, with his shirt sleeves rolled up, he rallied his concentration and settled down at the desk to write the day’s reports and open his correspondence. Most of what lay before him were routine matters, and he found his mind drifting back to Victoria. There was a well-behaved black horse in the stables which would suit her perfectly – tall, but with easy gait, mouth as soft as butter and—

He opened the next envelope. It was from the Intelligence Office in Simla and contained the annual report on the political and military activity in various independent states throughout the country. As these provinces were beyond the reach of British law, the princely states frequently became involved in tangled dynastic power struggles,
complicated by long-running, bloody wars with their neighbours.

Inevitably, all this confusion made it a fiendishly difficult task for the officers who were assigned to collate the information, and their reports were usually well out of date by the time they were distributed.

Andrew turned the pages quickly. His interest lay in one state only – the little kingdom of Gwalinpore far away on the edge of the Rajasthan desert. He skimmed the page for any mention of—

His heart lurched. That name. It couldn’t be – yet, there it was! He sat staring at the blunt words disbelievingly and read the report again. The breath left his lungs and, for a split second, the pain of the news was like a red-hot steel whip slashing across his soul. He closed his eyes and tried to picture the scene in his mind. Dear God! It hurt almost more than he could bear. No, no, no!

He swept the papers from his desk, folded his arms on it, and gave way to emotion.

The other occupants of the residency were still at breakfast when Victoria arrived at the stables next morning. Andrew’s greeting was a little distant, she thought, and he looked as though he’d had very little sleep.

A
syce
led two saddled horses from their stalls and, without another word, Andrew cupped his hands to boost her onto a tall black mount. His expression softened when he saw her look of alarm.

‘It’s all right, Victoria. I know he’s big, but Rex is a perfect gentleman who’ll give you no trouble, I promise.’

She took a deep, nervous breath as he swung her up onto the lady’s saddle. She settled her leg over the knee rest and arranged her skirt while he adjusted the length of the stirrup, then handed her the reins. She wriggled to test her balance on the high seat. ‘Will you stay close and tell me what I should do?’

‘Of course.’ He sprang onto his grey. ‘Now, just loosen your reins and nudge your heel gently into his flank. He’ll understand.’

Her heart thumped wildly, but Andrew was right. The tall,
well-mannered
animal responded to her signals and they moved off at a fast walk along the road that wound its way out of the city.

‘That’s it. Keep your back straight, elbows in and your hands low. Excellent.’

She concentrated fiercely until she grew familiar with the horse’s gait. Only then did she allow herself to relax a little and look around at the scattered farms they passed, the fields of flowering saffron and mustard, the orchards of quince and almond trees.

Andrew was not an easy man to read, and today he seemed to be lost in his own deep thoughts. For some time neither spoke. ‘I’m sorry to be so dull this morning,’ he said suddenly, turning to look at her, ‘but I had—’ He frowned and broke off.

‘You don’t have to keep me
entertained
, Andrew. I’m enjoying this tremendously – and what a splendid view of everything you get from up here on the back of a horse. I should have taken up riding years ago. And look what’s coming down the road towards us now! How wonderful – a family setting off for somewhere on their elephant. What a sight to write about in my next letter to Emily and Martin.’

He gave a murmur of agreement, and they rode on in silence again for some time. His dark mood puzzled her, but it was easy to ignore that when all her concentration was needed on this new experience of horse riding. She tried to relax further and leaned forward to pat the horse’s neck.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked suddenly, and she nodded. ‘Then let’s pick up the pace a little now and try a slow canter along this stretch. Just keep the ball of your foot in the stirrup.’

Her heartbeat rose as Rex surged forward at the touch of her heel and the road seemed to fly beneath his hoofs. But within minutes she had settled herself to the steady rhythm of his stride and gradually began to enjoy the excitement.

The long road wound its way upwards, until at last the deserted stone
buildings of the Pari Mahal, the old royal observatory, came into view, standing out high on a distant spur. It took them another hour’s riding to reach it and, when they did, Andrew dismounted and stood beside her while she eased her leg over the knee rest and slipped her foot from the stirrup.

‘Slide down now.’ He raised his arms to help her to the ground, and continued to hold her by the waist until she’d regained her balance. ‘You’ve done very well this morning,’ he said, as she gave a groan and stretched to ease her muscles. ‘We’ve a lot more to see this afternoon, so I hope I haven’t tired you too much.’

‘Thanks, I’m perfectly fine. At least I think I am – but I’m sure to feel even better after I’ve rested a little.’

He tethered the horses and took a canvas square from his saddle-bag to spread on the edge of the spur at a point from where Victoria had a vista of mountains, trees and sky that seemed to stretch to the end of the world.

‘How wonderful!’ she sighed, settling herself on the ground. ‘Thank you, Andrew, it’s absolutely perfect.’

There was no wind to stir the trees, no sound to be heard from the waterfall and the racing torrent in the gorge far below. Nothing moved. It was as if the whole world was standing still and holding its breath.

She glanced across at Andrew. He’d taken off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing brown arms knotted with lean muscle. She was momentarily discomposed by an impulse to run her hand up his forearm as she would have touched some piece of bronze sculpture, just for the pleasure of feeling its shape.

She looked away quickly, drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them.

Andrew was stretched out on the grass a few yards away, propped on one elbow, and gazing out into the distance with his mind clearly miles away. His mouth was tightly set and there were dark hollows of weariness under his eyes.

She shifted position and let her own thoughts drift to the
fast-approaching
end of her holiday. How much more she’d now have to tell Martin and Emily about her time in Srinagar. What would she say about the enigmatic Captain Andrew Wyndham? Who was the real man living behind that wall of reserve? The devoted father of Annabelle? The bitter son of a British general? Certainly a man she would like to have known better, if time had allowed it.

She threw another glance at him. He was still leaning on his elbow, but now he was watching her. For a long moment their glances held before he ran his tongue over his lower lip.

‘Victoria, I’m sorry to be such a deadly bore today, but – you see, I discovered only last night that Annabelle’s mother had died.’ His jaw tightened. ‘Actually, it happened almost two years ago, but I had no idea until I read about it in an official report.’ He sat up quickly.

She sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Oh, Andrew, I’m so terribly sorry. Of course, I know how you must be feeling, and—’

‘No, you don’t know, Victoria! You can’t possibly know!’ His harsh tone jolted her; a little nerve began to pull at one corner of his mouth. ‘I’m sorry – but she didn’t just
die
– Ishana committed
suttee
on her husband’s funeral pyre.’