Echoes of a Promise (14 page)

‘It’s all right, I’ll just have a sip from that one.’

He unscrewed the top and passed his flask to her, then watched as
she placed her lips where his had touched, then threw back her head and drained the last drops. His eyes followed the graceful line of her neck and the way she ran her tongue over her bottom lip as she replaced the cap. ‘Ah! How good that was.’

He felt his blood pumping faster, stirred by the playful intimacy that had grown between them during their time together today. Never before had he found someone like this to confide in. Someone he could permit to come close enough to see the void that was there behind the façade he displayed to the world.

She smiled at him, a smile warm with uncomplicated affection. His eyes drank her in. His throat tightened and he realized that this moment would be caught in time like a fly in amber, to stay with him forever.

Somehow, the day that had started off so miserably with the news of Ishana’s death had lost the edge of its savage pain. Today he had discovered someone who could provide him with a fixed point of emotional safety.

Being with Victoria Latham was like finding a lifeline.

Andrew was increasingly irritated by the constant tardiness of Lady Phillips’s guests.

Lady Marchant and Miss Eloise Marchant were running late again this evening. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that they did this deliberately in order to make an
entrance
at every gathering, though why the ill-favoured pair would wish to draw attention to themselves remained a puzzle to him.

Lady Marchant’s long bones were bereft of flesh, though she seemed to be endowed with more teeth than her tight mouth could accommodate. In view of that, he supposed it was fortunate for them all that she looked on the world with perpetual disdain and seldom smiled.

Miss Eloise Marchant, on the other hand, rarely stopped smiling as she looked about. Despite her family’s standing in London society, she’d apparently had no success in attracting any suitable offer of marriage, and India offered a fresh hunting ground.

Tonight, the cast of
The Scarlet Cloak
was left behind stage in a fidget of nerves for fifteen minutes while they waited for the curtain to be raised, just as soon as the Resident and his party arrived to take their places in the front row. The clubhouse ballroom had been converted into a theatre for the evening, and the packed audience was growing increasingly restless at the late start of the performance.

With all the grace he could muster, Andrew ushered Lady Marchant and Eloise into the theatre behind Sir Ian and Lady Phillips who bustled down the centre aisle giving little smiles and nods of apology to the left and right for their late arrival.

Lady Marchant and Eloise refused to be hurried, seemingly determined to allow everyone in the hall ample opportunity to study their London fashions. Eloise swivelled her head from side to side, smiling at men who caught her eye. But her expression changed to one of astonishment when she glimpsed Victoria sitting in the audience. She stopped and blinked.

‘Oh, Mama, do look! I can see Victoria Shelford! Hello, Victoria.’ She gave a giggle. ‘So this is where you’ve been hiding!’

Lady Marchant quickly scanned the faces turning towards them in surprise and, on recognizing Victoria, her eyes narrowed and her expression tightened. The audience stirred and people strained to catch a better view of whatever was happening.

Andrew noted how quickly Victoria covered her surprise and acknowledged Miss Marchant and her mother with a cool tilt of her head before turning away. For some reason, the sight of the two ladies seemed to have unsettled her, and that heated his own anger towards them. He took the mother and daughter each by an elbow and propelled them down the aisle to their seats beside Sir Ian and Lady Phillips. Damn women! What was their connection with Victoria?

And now as he settled into his own seat, he could sense trouble of some kind brewing for her in the looks that Eloise Marchant exchanged with her mother, and in their whisperings to Lady Phillips throughout the performance.

The high melodrama performed by the Amateur Dramatic Society would have been a disaster if the audience hadn’t perceived
The Scarlet Cloak
as a splendid farce and laughed all the way through. While the audience was giving the cast an enthusiastic round of applause, Andrew looked around for Victoria. Her chair was empty.

The next performance that evening was given by Lady Marchant and Eloise at the supper party arranged by Colonel and Mrs Moncrief at their bungalow for the cast of the play and selected other guests.

‘When did Victoria Shelford arrive in Srinagar? I was most surprised to see her here.’ Miss Marchant posed the question loudly to the crowded room, but it was the colonel’s wife who answered.

‘Do you mean Mrs Victoria Latham? Mrs Latham has been staying here for several months now.’

‘Mrs Latham? Are you telling me that Victoria Shelford is actually calling herself
Mrs Latham
?’ Lady Marchant’s voice could have cut glass. ‘My dear Mrs Moncrief, that girl ran away to sea with a common sailor, and it broke her poor mother’s heart when she discovered that there had been no marriage!’

Eloise smirked as she looked around the room to assess the degree of shock generated by her mother’s revelation.

‘I’ve always found Mrs Latham to be a very pleasant, refined young lady,’ Lady Phillips said, flustered. ‘Besides, she wears a wedding ring.’

Miss Marchant’s neck appeared to stretch even further as she turned her head and gave the Resident’s wife a patronizing smile. ‘Well,
we
know that she is
not
married because Mama had an investigator search every parish register for twenty miles around the place where she was staying in Devon at that time. I can assure you that there was no wedding recorded in any of them.’

Andrew balled his fists until the nails bit into his palms. Dear God! If Eloise Marchant had been a man he’d be aiming a blow right now at that long jaw. The group around the Marchant women grew thicker.

‘Victoria Shelford’s wayward behaviour was the ruin of her whole family, I can assure you.’ The way that Lady Marchant’s thin lips drew back to reveal her huge teeth reminded Andrew of a killer shark about to attack. ‘Poor Mr Shelford lost his seat in Parliament when the scandal became known, and her parents were forced to leave London
and move to the south of France because of the disgrace their daughter brought to their doorstep.’

The enormity of the wreckage left by Victoria’s misconduct left the audience clamouring for more detail. Andrew boiled. The vitriolic performance of these two witches was clearly no spontaneous act this evening. How many times had they rehearsed this slander? Would Victoria thank him if he went in now to defend her? Did he have the right to announce to the company that her marriage had taken place at sea and was perfectly legal?

He backed out of the room and sat in the garden to smoke a cheroot, trying to ignore the unstoppable torrent of gossip floating out to him through the open window.

‘And, Mama, don’t forget what happened to the older girl, too! The wild one, Caroline, who was named in court during Countess Overton’s divorce hearing.’

‘Ooooh!’ The pain in Lady Marchant’s voice sounded almost sincere. ‘I have no words to describe what a picture of her wanton behaviour emerged from the evidence presented by the servants during the trial. It was in all the newspapers, but she and her husband had run off to America. They went on the stage over there, singing and dancing – and she even shows her legs, so I’ve learned.’ She clicked her tongue and looked around at her audience. ‘There was obviously something sadly lacking in the way Lady Mary raised her daughters.’

The next morning Andrew rode to Nigel’s house to talk to Victoria, and met her as she was stepping through the front door. He could see that she hadn’t slept well and that she was very angry.

‘Well, Captain Wyndham, are you sure that you want to be seen speaking to a woman like me?’

He hadn’t slept well, either. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Victoria. Those of us who know you will never believe the lies that those women are spreading. Perhaps you should sue them for slander – or I’ll cheerfully
strangle them both, if you’d like me to.’

She couldn’t help but smile at his ferocious expression. ‘I do appreciate the offer, Andrew, but there was probably a grain of truth in whatever they were saying about me. It’s their misinterpretation of everything that’s so cruel and wrong and I’ve been tossing all night thinking about what I should do about it.’

‘Are you going to have it out with them? I’ll come down to the residency with you now, if you like.’

‘That’s brave of you, my friend! Yes, when I got out of bed this morning that’s exactly what I thought I’d do. I wanted to face the Marchants and tell them that they’d been grossly misinformed about the matter and to – and to—’ The corners of her mouth took a downwards turn. ‘And that’s exactly the way my mother would have responded, so I know that an argument with the Marchants would resolve nothing. It’s all a game with them. They thrive on petty spats and they’d soon find some way to distort the facts of my case even further.’

She gave a long sigh. ‘Of course, my mother played exactly the same game and she went out of her way to humiliate Lady Marchant and Eloise whenever she found an opportunity. Last night’s little drama, I’m sure, was their chance to retaliate after my mother publicly snubbed them one day in Hyde Park after my sister’s engagement had been announced.’

‘Victoria, I’m completely lost. What has that—?’

‘Sorry. It would take a month to unravel the tit-for-tat nonsense that has been going on for thirty years between Lady Marchant and Lady Mary Woolcott, so let’s not try. No, I think it best if I simply turn my back on them and try to walk away with my dignity intact.’

He gave a grunt. ‘Well, I’ve made it clear to Lady Phillips that, of course, your marriage wouldn’t be recorded in any parish church because it took place at sea—’

‘Please, please, Andrew, don’t become involved in this ridiculous
situation. I’ve learned exactly how this community thrives on fresh gossip and that’s why I’m packing up to leave tomorrow. I’m just on my way now to see if Thakur has finished the work on my elephant.’

‘Oh, Lord! Victoria, don’t let those witches drive you away. You have friends here who’ll stand by you. I can assure you that Sir Ian and Lady Phillips are quite disgusted with the Marchants’ gossip. And everything else about them.’

She shrugged. ‘Perhaps, but the Colonel and Mrs Moncrief – and probably every man in the officers’ mess will be sniggering about me this morning.’

‘But you mustn’t go yet! What about Nigel’s wedding?’

‘Can’t you see that it’s Nigel and Kitty I’m thinking about? I’ve tried to warn Nigel about what he’s likely to hear today, but I don’t think he realizes just how damaging his connection to me could prove to be if I stay in Srinagar. No, Andrew, the sooner I go, the quicker the gossip will fade and dear, loyal Nigel and Kitty won’t have to go into battle every time my name is mentioned.’

He continued to frown down at her and, when she tried to step past him, he put a restraining hand on her arm. ‘Wait. Stay here and go on with your packing while I ride down to collect the elephant. Wait for me, Victoria. Please just go back inside and
wait
.’

Kitty, with her boys and their
ayah
in tow, arrived shortly after he’d ridden away, and she was shocked to hear Victoria’s decision to leave.

‘Please don’t be so hasty, Vicky. You must stay here for our wedding. Yes, I’ve heard what some people are saying this morning, but I don’t believe a word of those lies.’

‘Thank you, Kitty, I know it’s all very petty and ridiculous, but I don’t want anything to spoil your wedding day. I really think it’s best for me to slip away and let all the nonsense simmer down as quickly as possible.’

‘Vicky, it won’t be the same if you’re not there in church. It’s just not fair. Besides, where will you go? Do you have friends to stay with
– wherever it is that you’re going?’

At this point Victoria had given no clear thought about where she might go when she left Kashmir. The spectre of that unknown frightened her, so she pushed it out of her mind and went on with her packing.

By mid-afternoon, Andrew had still not returned with her elephant.

Nigel arrived home early from his office, puffing with indignation at the gossip about his cousin that was being magnified by speculation as it flew around the community. ‘How dare those women spread such lies—’

Nigel’s fighting spirit, once roused, was not easy to douse, and Victoria was still trying to explain the running feud between her mother and Lady Marchant, when Duleep announced the arrival of Captain Wyndham. He was carrying no box or parcel, and she was hit hard by a childish disappointment that brought her to the edge of tears.

‘Don’t worry, Thakur has finished the elephant and I know you’re anxious to see it. But I’ll deal with all that tomorrow, I promise. Sorry, but I had a more important errand to attend to today.’ From his pocket, he produced an envelope addressed to her in a bold, elegant script. ‘I’d like you to read this, Victoria.’

It was signed
Yolande, Begum Raziid Khan.

‘Oh, Andrew! This is – I know that this is all your doing. Thank you so much.’

He smiled at the relief in her expression. ‘The begum’s invitation is
perfectly genuine, I assure you. She looks forward to making your acquaintance, and it will be simple enough to arrange for you to be brought across to the church on the day of the wedding.’

‘Oh, thank you! This is a wonderful solution.’ She beamed at him. ‘And you’re wonderful for arranging it.’ For one moment he thought that she was going to embrace him, but she turned away and threw her arms around Kitty instead.

The setting sun was painting the sky with a glorious salmon-pink glow as the melon-seller paddled away from the begum’s houseboat. He’d sold an extra melon there today. An English lady might be coming to stay, the cook had told him. He found that good news, indeed, for strict routines grew slack when visitors joined the household. The
melon-seller
was a patient man and his sack was waiting.

Each day he observed the girl-child playing under the canopy on the top deck of the houseboat, and sometimes saw her taken to the Shalimar Gardens in the begum’s
shikara
. Sometimes they drove off in the begum’s open carriage to visit the fort on the hill. And wherever they went they were escorted by the Sikh bodyguard with the black pistol in his belt.

The girl-child was flawless and would fetch a high price from the beggar-master in Calcutta, especially as she carried European blood. Now was the perfect age for such a child to be taken – not too young – for children of very tender years were likely to die before they reached their destination. Older ones could become difficult to handle on the journey south. The little blue bottle of sleeping magic lay ready in his sack, and he would be watching for the one chance he needed to succeed.