Echoes of a Promise (8 page)

As well, there were audible titters of excitement amongst the young ladies who’d just arrived in the fishing fleet. Those who knew the social scene in Srinagar were quick to point out to the visitors which man was married and who was unattached, what rank was held by each, who was next for promotion. And which men to be wary of.

Victoria caught the look of strain on Nigel’s face when the officers won the toss and went in first to bat. He took up his position on the field
and began by missing two easy catches. But when the next ball hit him squarely in the chest, he instinctively clapped both hands over it and seemed stunned when the umpire called “Out!” A burst of applause came from the spectators in the marquee.

A frisson of surprise ran amongst the ladies when the new bowler came across for the second over. Victoria recognized him as the man on the chestnut horse whom she’d seen in the toymaker’s shop. He tossed the ball in the air twice before running up and sending a sizzling delivery down the pitch.

‘Who is that fellow bowling now?’ she asked the woman seated next to her, wondering if she might find an opportunity later to approach him and ask how she could make the toymaker understand that she wanted to buy a painted elephant like the one that he’d bought.

‘That man? Oh, that’s the military attaché, Captain Wyndham – and surely the most unsociable creature in India. Refuses every invitation, unless it’s for some official function where he’s duty-bound to put in an appearance.’

The lady sitting behind them leaned forward to add her opinion. ‘Yes, but even then he just stands about, or goes off to find a billiard table or card game. Never asks a lady to dance. Such a pity that he’s inherited none of his father’s charm. Did you know, Mrs Latham, that he’s the son of General Gordon Wyndham? Now there’s a truly sociable gentleman!’

‘And he’s not nearly as handsome as his father, either,’ Victoria’s neighbour added with a sniff.

She held her tongue and asked no more about General Wyndham’s unpopular son. Actually, she rather liked his dark, brooding looks, and she certainly enjoyed watching the way his long limbs moved as he ran up to the pitch to deliver each fast ball. Eventually he toppled two army batsmen in quick succession and earned a lukewarm ripple of applause at the end of the innings. But, as he walked off, Victoria clapped until her palms were stinging.

After the break for lunch, Captain Wyndham was sent in as first bat for the civils, with Nigel as his opening partner. Poor Nigel, it will be his turn next at the crease, she thought, knowing how much he was dreading it. But when Captain Wyndham sent the first fast ball sailing past the fieldsmen, they safely scored two runs with Nigel racing up and down the pitch as if his life depended on it. When the captain was back in his place at the crease for the next ball, he hit another easy two runs and their score continued to mount by twos, with an occasional six, before he was eventually caught out.

A few moments later, Nigel was standing awkwardly in front of the stumps, fumbling with the bat while he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead. But his agony proved to be short lived when he was bowled out for a duck and left the pitch looking relieved. When Victoria saw him heading off towards the players’ pavilion, she excused herself and went to find him to offer whatever kind words were needed at a time like this.

She’d almost reached the pavilion when she heard the sound of crashing glass coming from the rear of the building – followed by angry shouting, children’s squeals, and Nigel calling for someone to stop. She also heard a female voice raised in fury: ‘Kitty Cameron! Now look what they’ve done! I told you to leave those wicked imps at home with the
ayah
!’

Victoria rounded the corner of the building and almost collided with the wife of the forestry officer. The woman was far too tight-lipped with anger to do more than roll her eyes heavenwards as she swept past.

At the rear of the building, a slim young woman with curls the colour of corn silk, stood below a broken window of the clubhouse kitchen with her shoulders slumped and a handkerchief held to her eyes. Several brown-skinned faces were looking indignantly through the shattered pane, then someone inside threw a cricket ball down onto the grass where it rolled to a stop at the young woman’s feet.

During all this, Victoria caught sight of Nigel galloping after two small boys who had reached a fence surrounding the croquet green and were now trying to scramble over it.

‘Oh, dear, oh dear!’ the young woman said and, when she took the handkerchief from her eyes, Victoria saw that the moisture in them was coming from uncontrollable laughter.

‘Oh, dear, oh dear!’ she said again and her smile was enhanced by a delightful pair of dimples. ‘I never could throw a straight ball. Should I confess that I was the one who smashed their window? It was meant to go straight down there, but—’ She gave another peal of infections laughter. ‘And now that nice gentleman is rescuing my naughty twins. Do you know him? I must thank him for his kindness. My name is Kitty Cameron.’

‘How do you do, Mrs Cameron. I’m Victoria Latham, and yes, I know Mr Nigel Pelham very well indeed. I’ll be happy to introduce you.’

Nigel was coming towards them now, not only holding each boy by one hand, but also holding their attention by whatever he was saying to them. ‘My cousin Nigel is very fond of children.’

‘How extraordinary! I’ve never before met a man who could tolerate small, noisy boys and their endless tricks. Their own father certainly couldn’t!’

Victoria looked at the pretty woman quickly, wondering what was behind her matter-of-fact tone. And her use of the past tense.

‘Yes, I’m a widow, Mrs Latham. My husband drowned in the Jumna last year.’

‘Oh, Mrs Cameron, I’m so
very
sorry.’

‘Thank you.’ Clearly she wished to say no more, and turned to face Nigel who was now only a few paces away. She spread her arms towards the boys and when Nigel released their hands, they ran to her. She rewarded their rescuer with a beatific smile.

‘Mrs Cameron, please allow me to present Mr Nigel Pelham, a
gentleman who not only tolerates small boys, but who tames them as well.’

Nigel whipped off his cricket cap. ‘Mrs Cameron, it was my pleasure. You have fine, bright lads. They’re a credit to you.’

For a long moment the pair stood looking at each other, smiling, while the twins watched on with interest.

‘Nigel,’ Victoria said, ‘if Mrs Cameron agrees, I’d very much like to invite her to dine with us one evening. Soon.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Latham,’ the widow said without taking her eyes from Nigel’s. ‘I’d be delighted to accept. Any evening at all. I’m staying with my cousin – George Harris, the forestry officer.’

‘Then may I suggest two days from now? Friday?’ His voice had acquired a new, deeper tone. ‘I’ll call for you in the gig at seven. Will that be convenient?’

‘Perfectly, Mr Pelham, thank you. Perfectly.’

Before Nigel dressed and set out in the gig to collect Mrs Cameron, he had Duleep cut his hair. Shorter. Smarter. Victoria smiled to herself and made no comment about how much younger it made him look. Though there was still a light dusting of grey at the temples, he’d lost every trace of the sad spaniel look produced by the old curls falling on his forehead.

The cook excelled himself that evening and the dinner party was deemed to be a great success, with Duleep bringing out the best dinner service and overseeing every detail. Later, Nigel opened the pianoforte in the drawing room and invited their guest to play.

‘Yes, Mr Pelham, I do play, but not at all well, I’m afraid,’ Kitty said, when he led her to the piano stool and propped up the score of a popular song in front of her. ‘I’m afraid it’s been a long time since I touched a keyboard, but I’ll do my best.’

Victoria sat listening as Kitty began to play and sing – hesitantly and rather poorly at first. But when Nigel surprised them both by joining in
with a pleasant tenor voice, her nervousness started to fade and she fumbled over fewer wrong notes. They even began to harmonize during several sentimental songs, and after they’d sung
Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes
once, they sang it again.

‘Delightful, Mrs Cameron.’ Nigel swallowed hard. ‘Thank you, but I mustn’t tire you.’

‘Thank
you
, Mr Pelham. I’m not at all tired.’ Her dimples deepened.

‘Then perhaps you’d care to walk into the garden with me to see the Night Flowering Jasmine? It’s doing exceptionally well this season.’

‘Oh! Yes, I noticed a beautiful perfume in the air when we arrived.’ She looked towards Victoria. ‘Will you come, too, Mrs Latham?’

‘Er – yes, of course. But please go ahead while I get a shawl.’ She took care to walk upstairs very slowly, found a wrap for her shoulders, and walked downstairs even more slowly. A dish of bon-bons standing on the drawing room table distracted her as she was passing it, and choosing the right one to slip into her mouth was a process that couldn’t be rushed. After that, she took her time in choosing another.

When she at last stepped out onto the garden path, the fragrance of the blossoming vine drew her towards the far end where two figures stood facing each other in the moonlight. Even at a distance, she could tell that any initial interest that either Nigel or Kitty might have had in the blossoms had vanished. They were standing apart, but reaching out to each other with fingers entwined.

For a moment, astonishment held Victoria rooted to the spot and she felt like an intruder. Perhaps she should slip back to the house?

‘Oh, there you are, Vicky,’ Nigel called, when he became aware of her presence. ‘Do come over here and enjoy this glorious perfume.’ He and Kitty stepped apart, though neither stopped smiling.

And at the end of the evening Nigel drove Kitty home and Victoria was already asleep in bed before he returned.

He was looking particularly cheerful the next morning at the breakfast table. ‘Victoria, m’dear, I’ve invited Kitty and the boys to
lunch on Saturday. Will that be convenient for you?’

Victoria smiled. ‘Splendid.’

Fortunately, Kitty also brought the boys’
ayah
to lunch that day. Together, this patient lady and Victoria, along with Duleep, kept the four-year-olds occupied at the far end of the garden to ensure there was little interruption to the engrossing conversation that Nigel and Kitty appeared to be having under the willow tree.

After that day, letters began to pass between them frequently, and Nigel sometimes found a reason to call on her of an evening.

Only two weeks after their first encounter, Nigel Pelham, Deputy Controller of Revenue in the State of Kashmir, did something that he’d never done before in his whole career. He absented himself from his official duties for no reason other than to spend a whole day of diversion and pleasure in the company of Mrs Kitty Cameron, picnicking in the solitude of the Shalimar Gardens.

He returned to the house that evening engulfed by love for a lady who had clearly returned his affections. Victoria noted that the outing appeared to have left him looking ten years younger.

‘Vicky, I can’t describe how I feel when I’m with her. I could climb mountains. Fight a tiger! And she asks for nothing but to share my life.’

Victoria smiled to herself as she recalled Nigel having told her once that he was not a passionate man. But, clearly, that was before he and Kitty Cameron had found each other. How dear Aunt Honoria would have applauded this delightful romance.

Barely a month after their first meeting, the engagement of Mr Nigel Pelham, widower, and Mrs Kitty Cameron, widowed mother of
four-year
-old twins, was announced.

The English community was agog and the ladies tut-tutted over their teacups. Surely the forestry officer’s pretty cousin was far too young and
disorganized
to take Maud’s place? And what havoc would those two unruly lads cause in Maud’s well-ordered home?

Victoria held her tongue because it was clear from the moment they’d met that any wear and tear inflicted on the fabric of Maud’s house would be well and truly compensated by the joy that Kitty and her little boys were bringing into Nigel’s life.

‘Can you believe it, Vicky, there’s a difference of only fifteen years in our ages,’ he said to her, apropos of nothing one evening, as he closed his eyes and smiled to himself, clearly lost in pleasurable thoughts.

Victoria wrote to Emily and Martin about the surprising turn of events in Nigel’s life, and said that she now intended to stay on in Srinagar for the wedding.

Even to Emily and Martin, Victoria would never reveal the tale that Kitty had confided to her one afternoon as they sat together watching Nigel throwing a ball to the twins.

She talked about her first marriage and revealed that it had been a misery, almost from its beginning. Once they arrived in India, her new husband’s heavy drinking had turned him into a beast, and for ten years she’d been forced to endure his violence.

‘He seemed to take pleasure in beating me and I was terrified of him. In a drunken rage one day, he threw me down the stairs and that caused me to lose my first baby. I loathed him. Deeply.

‘He built bridges for the railways so we always lived in isolated places where I had no one to turn to, and he soon drank away the little money of my own that I had to start with. For years I tried to stand up to him as best I could, until the twins came into the world. But when he began to hurt them too, I prayed to see him dead.