Echoes of a Promise (16 page)

Victoria wasn’t sure what to say, so didn’t try.

‘I hardly knew him at all when we were married – and I was terrified – but I discovered that he was wise and tender, and it wasn’t long before I came to love him deeply. I, too, desperately wanted to give him children, but it didn’t happen, and I wept when I – we three
wives – were widowed ten years later.’ She looked directly into Victoria’s eyes.

‘The other ladies and I were fond of each other, though we chose not to continue living together when our husband had gone. But life does move on, old wounds heal, and I’m glad to say that I’ve been able to love again.’

It took Victoria a little time to digest the begum’s story. ‘Well, madame, I’m twenty-six now and, yes, I’d like to share my life with a man who truly loves me. But I have to tread warily because when Peter died he left me with something that inevitably changes the way people perceive me – if they hear about it.’

The begum raised her brows questioningly.

‘Peter left me his share of a trading vessel named
Fortitude
, and I’m growing increasingly wealthy with every voyage it makes.’

‘And you consider this to be a difficulty?’

‘Yes, I certainly do, because once a whiff of
wealth
is sniffed in the air around a woman, every fawning, worthless fortune-hunter in the country is drawn to the honey-pot. I’ve seen that happen to young ladies in London. But what’s even worse, I know that a woman’s wealth can frighten away a good man who has little money himself.’

The begum looked at her keenly. ‘Surely you’re not suggesting that Andrew Wyndham—?

‘I’m suggesting nothing at all,’ she answered, more sharply than she’d intended. ‘I’m simply saying that if I do meet a gentleman and fond feelings start to develop between us, I need to be sure that it’s
Victoria
who stirs his heart, and not Peter Latham’s wealthy widow.’

Unexpectedly, thoughts of Peter slipped into her mind throughout the day. Her black ocean of grief had calmed, but she was still carrying the old sense of emptiness and lack of purpose in her life. The augury had told her to look into her heart to find her destiny.
It is waiting all around you. Search for it with your heart.

Well, she
was
searching, and so far nothing had appeared, apart from
visions of the nameless girl who’d died giving birth on the floor of a filthy tenement, and the orphaned Molly Collins whose future might have been similarly grim without the generosity of Martin and Emily and the good people at Cloudhill.

She prayed regularly that Molly would learn a useful trade, or train in some skill that would enable her to earn a decent wage and keep the wolf of poverty – or worse – from her door. Molly might even achieve her dream of becoming a milliner and one day have her own little shop, or perhaps Mrs Dobson would teach her to cook in the Cloudhill kitchen. Or maybe Mrs Frost would train her in the secrets of running a fine household. Would she make a good nursemaid?

The important thing was that Molly had now been given a chance to find a better life. Might that nameless girl in the East End tenement still be alive today if she’d learned a skill which enabled her to earn a wage and become independent? How many more girls would be trapped and misused because they had nobody to turn to?

While the begum dozed in her chair and Annabelle slept soundly on a cushion, Victoria narrowed her eyes and stared into the mesmerizing glare shimmering across the surface of the lake. Cloudhill could offer a new direction for Molly Collins’s life, but how many other girls – like those she used to walk past on the streets of London – would ever find a chance like Molly?

Apart from working in the hell of a factory or a mill, where could an uneducated girl turn if she wanted to earn a living? Alone in the world without a skill or a trade, what chance did life offer a female who had no one to protect her?

As Victoria sprawled in the canvas chair and continued to stare across the shimmering lake, a scene began to swim before her eyes, like a far-off mirage in the desert.

She screwed up her eyes tightly against the glare.
Close your eyes and see your destiny with your heart
. The old soothsayer’s words shot into her head, and when she looked across the water again, she saw a
line of girls who seemed to be moving towards a doorway. One of them was wearing a shabby patchwork skirt. Another was in a soiled petticoat with a few remnants of fine lace clinging to the hem.

Victoria blinked. Was she hallucinating? Where did the doorway lead to?

‘You’ve been in a very pensive mood this afternoon, my dear,’ the begum said gently, as she and Victoria sat on the roof deck, sipping sherry while they waited for Andrew to arrive for dinner. ‘Is there something worrying you?’

‘Oh, no, on the contrary, madame.’ She leaned forward in her chair. ‘I’m sorry to have been so distracted, but a very exciting thought suddenly popped into my head this afternoon and it’s triggered an avalanche of ideas about what I might be able to
do
with the rest of my life.’

‘That sounds very profound, Victoria.’ The begum seemed decidedly sceptical. ‘And you say that this idea suddenly came to you in the Shalimar Gardens?’

‘Don’t laugh, madame. If Peter had lived, I’d now be sailing the world with him and he would have taught me to be his navigator. Instead, I’ve become a useless, tea-drinking, game-playing creature who’s still looking for some new direction in her life. Now I think I might have just found it.’

‘Today? In the gardens?’

‘Don’t look so surprised, madame. Yes, the details are still swirling around in my mind, but I can see a great need for a place in London where penniless, unschooled and unprotected girls could come to be trained in useful skills like needlework, or dressmaking and millinery
– perhaps cooking, or nursemaiding – even book-keeping. Some girls might even learn to be governesses. Or teachers.’

By now her cheeks were flushed and she was sitting on the edge of her chair. ‘I want to use Peter’s money to establish such a place in London. To be run as a charitable foundation. I know that’s just the kind of thing that he’d approve of.’

For a moment, the begum remained speechless. ‘That would be a huge undertaking, my dear Victoria! Have you really given it sufficient thought?’

‘Indeed, I have, madame, though the details are going to take some time to work out. But I know how much an establishment of that kind is needed.’ She painted a picture of the girl she’d seen die on the floor of the tenement and the plight of an orphaned child alone in the world.

‘The streets are full of girls like that, girls who have nothing ahead of them but misery or exploitation. Perhaps a foundation would be able to help only ten or twenty girls a year, but I’m going to make a start and do whatever I possibly can.’

She reached into a pocket, pulled out a notebook and pencil, and added another thought to the list of ideas already there.

‘I’ll write straight away to my London attorney, Mr Bartley-Symes, and ask him to set up a trust with the money that the
Fortitude
has already earned for me, and will keep on earning, I’m certain. Of course, we’ll need to form a committee to get the establishment up and running and I know some ladies who are excellent at that kind of thing.’ Another name was added to her list. ‘I’ll write to them immediately.’

She drew breath for a moment and reined in her galloping thoughts. ‘My name won’t be associated in any way with this trust. I want it to be known as the
Fortitude Foundation
, and the late Captain Peter Latham will be announced as the benefactor.’

She was forced to swallow hard. ‘I’m perfectly sure that this is absolutely the right thing to do, but I’m not ready yet to discuss my plans with anyone, apart from you, madame.’

‘Not Andrew?’

‘No, certainly not Andrew! Not yet – not until everything is settled.’ She could see that the begum was about to question her decision. ‘I’ll know when the right time comes to tell Andrew about it, madame.’

Their conversation was interrupted when they heard the sound of a
shikara
at the steps, followed by a deep male voice speaking in angry tones.

‘Oh, he’s early—’ Victoria began, but she was stopped by the begum’s expression.

‘That’s not Andrew! Quickly, please come down to the drawing room with me, Victoria. If that’s who I think it is, I have no wish for him to linger.’ She left her chair as she was speaking and smoothed a hand over her hair as they walked downstairs.

The begum was closer to being flustered than Victoria had ever seen her, but by the time they entered the drawing room, she was ready to face General Wyndham who was standing on the doorstep and venting his fury on the Sikh for refusing to announce his arrival.

‘Gordon, do please calm yourself!’ the begum said, sweeping into the room. ‘Even after all these years you should have remembered that I do not like to be disturbed at this hour.’

She gave him a limp hand and, as he raised it to his lips, his glance drifted to Victoria. That knowing, lingering look made her suspect that Lady Marchant’s gossip might have reached his ears and that
she
could well be the reason for this visit.

‘A thousand apologies for this unannounced arrival,’ Wyndham’s deep voice purred, ‘but I’ve been away shooting up in the mountains with Mr and Mrs Cooke. We returned only last night.’ Neither the begum nor Victoria showed interest.

‘Yes, we had a most
delightful
camp set up near Sonamarg. It was a hugely successful hunt – good weather, good shooting and
very
good company.’ He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

Victoria felt compassion for the mountain wildlife shot by this man,
but little for the lady whom he seemed to be implying was also in his trophy bag.

He rubbed his palms together. ‘Sadly, I must set off for Delhi soon, so I had to take this opportunity to call on you – and
Mrs Latham
, of course.’ He smiled at her in a way that left Victoria in no doubt that he’d heard Lady Marchant’s gossip and had probably come to see this notorious woman for himself.

The begum capitulated and signalled for him to sit. ‘So tell me, Gordon, what parts of the country have you been hammering into submission recently?’

The general settled his heavy frame into a chair and looked from the begum to Victoria. ‘Yes, Yolande, I’ve had some victories here and there, but the one that gives me most satisfaction is – at last – winning the battle I’ve been having with my son. Do you remember young Andrew? Well, I’m afraid he’s not quite so young any more, but I’ve just heard that he’s found the backbone to join the Guides.’ He made a guffaw. ‘Not that he told me himself, of course! Colonel Moncrief mentioned it at lunch today.’

The begum and Victoria exchanged a swift glance. If Andrew was to leave Srinagar, what plans had he made for Annabelle?

‘Ah, yes, he’ll find plenty of action out there on the North-west Frontier, and if he uses his head, he should do well. Luckily for him I just happen to be here to cut across the administrative queue and have his transfer pushed through without any delays.’

‘How … convenient,’ the begum said as she let out a breath.

Victoria clamped her jaws and felt a sharp stab of disappointment. This was too sudden. She would miss Andrew very much. And their conversations. Perhaps they’d correspond? But what arrangement had he made for Annabelle? Her mind raced and she turned a deaf ear to the general’s long-winded monologue, until—

‘Papa! Papa!’ Annabelle’s piping voice carried through the boat. Victoria swallowed her gasp and saw the begum tense. They had not
expected Andrew’s arrival for another hour, but Annabelle had obviously been watching for him through her window. ‘Papa is coming!’

There was a soft thud as a
shikara
nudged the steps and, at that moment, the child burst into the drawing room. Victoria’s heart lurched: Andrew’s secret was about to be revealed to the last person in the world he’d want to know about his daughter.

Without a clear thought to direct her movements, she sprang from her chair and opened her arms, catching the little figure in flight as she passed, and swinging the child off her feet in a full circle. ‘General, I’d like to introduce my daughter, Annabelle. Darling, do say hello to the general.’

Annabelle stiffened and her cheeks grew pink with fury. She put her hands against Victoria’s shoulders and pushed hard, wriggling to escape the hold, kicking with her bare feet. ‘Papa! Papa!’

Andrew appeared in the doorway and stood there, thunderstruck as he surveyed the scene.

‘Oh, General, just listen to my adorable little matchmaker!’ Victoria forced a smile and ignored Andrew. ‘I’m afraid that my daughter has quite lost her heart to your son! She makes me blush, don’t you, sweetheart?’

She tightened her grip even further around the squirming, kicking child. ‘Sadly, my husband died before Annabelle was born, you see, and she’s been letting me know in no uncertain terms that it’s high time I found a father for her. And Captain Wyndham has been so very kind to my poor little darling.’

She clamped her tongue between her teeth and walked unsteadily towards Andrew. His chin was braced for trouble, but as soon as he opened his arms to Annabelle, she flung herself into them and snuggled her face against his neck.

‘Well, there you have it, Gordon. Victoria’s daughter has certainly lost her heart to your son.’ The begum threw Andrew a speaking look.
He frowned and kept his mouth closed.

The general was nonplussed. ‘I had no idea, Mrs Latham – the child, I mean. I heard no mention—’

Her cheeks heated. ‘But, General Wyndham, why should you have any interest in the fact that I have a daughter, when the matter can be of absolutely no concern of yours? I would like to make it clear to you that I am accountable to no one regarding what I do, or don’t do, in my private life.’

Her waspish tone took them all by surprise and, for a long moment, nobody spoke. But Gordon Wyndham was never a man to let matters lie.

‘Well, come along now, Andrew, here’s your opportunity. Can’t you see that it’s high time you began to woo this lovely young mother as well as the daughter?’ He laughed. ‘And if you’re quick off the mark, there might be time to arrange a wedding before you leave for Mardan, eh?’

Resentment burned in Andrew’s eyes and he took a step towards his father. ‘Whatever Mrs Latham and I decide to do is the business of neither you nor any other person on God’s earth, and I’d be obliged if you kept right out of it.’ His jaw tightened. ‘In fact, as from this moment, I’d prefer it if you kept right out of my life altogether. Forget you ever had a son. I’m sure that won’t present any difficulty for you.’

His father’s neck coloured. ‘Damnit, boy, I’m your father! Where do you think you’d be now if I’d not been there to steer your course?’

‘Don’t make me laugh! When have you ever been a father to me? For all the fatherly concern you’ve shown, I could have been one of the stray dogs the servants fed on the kitchen doorstep.’

The general seemed ready to explode. His eyes bulged and his chest heaved. ‘And that’s the thanks I get for giving you all the opportunities that you were quick to squander? What do you have to say about that trouble you got yourself into in Agra? You certainly needed my influence to get you out of that! And the time in Lahore when you were
court-martialled for disobeying orders?’

‘I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not proud of some of the things I did ten years ago. But that was then, and this is now. And besides, aren’t you forgetting that I was exonerated by that court martial?’

Victoria’s insides were churning at the family implosion she’d triggered, and the raised voices in the room alarmed Annabelle. She whimpered and looked around at the adults. Andrew stroked his hand to and fro across her back. ‘Hush, sweetheart, hush.’

The begum stood and faced the general. She was almost as tall as he. ‘As you can see, I have guests, General Wyndham, and I would like you to leave. We have absolutely nothing more to say to each other.’

‘Yolande! You can’t—’

She clapped her hands and the Sikh instantly came into the room to open the door for the general while the begum signalled to Victoria and Andrew, carrying Annabelle, to follow her up to the roof deck.

‘The devil take the man!’ he spat, as they saw his father’s hired
shikara
moving off towards the shore. ‘Of all the times for him to arrive! I’m so dreadfully sorry about this, Victoria, but – why in heaven’s name did you tell him that Annabelle was
your
daughter? He’s going to spread that news as soon as he steps into the officers’ mess – and it’s going to provide those damn Marchant women with even more fuel to work up into a fresh frenzy of lies.’

She sat motionless, white-faced. Why
had
she done it? Why had she been so ready to bring down another avalanche of gossip on her own head in order to protect Andrew Wyndham’s secret? Just like a warhorse, she’d charged in to battle at the first bugle call. It was an odd feeling, but she was rather proud that she’d done so. And, if she had to, she knew that she’d do it again.

‘Andrew, what does it matter if people here are gossiping about me? I can pack my bags and leave at any time. Your career is in this country.
Somewhere
.’

He looked thoroughly wretched. ‘Well, first of all let me give my
apologies to you both. I wanted to be the one to give you the news about this offer I’ve had from Mardan.’

They listened quietly as he told them about the enquiry he’d sent to General Roberts. ‘I didn’t imagine that things would move so speedily. I thought I’d find time to work out a happy solution for my dilemma.’ He cast a significant glance down at Annabelle. ‘Quite frankly, I don’t have any alternative now but to stop all this damn procrastination and decline the offer. I’ve got to bite the bullet and resign from the regiment immediately, then make a serious attempt to find some position in a place where Annabelle will be welcome.’ He kept his voice flat and spoke quickly in an attempt to smother the emotion boiling inside him.

As Victoria gazed at him, her breasts rose and fell. Her own father, who’d always claimed to love her, had turned his back on her at the very first hurdle. And here was Andrew Wyndham willing to throw aside his whole career for the sake of his child. Her admiration for him swelled and she sensed a rising tide of urgency within herself to join him in his fight against whatever forces were aligning against him.

Strong feelings were drawing her to him: Andrew was a unique man.