“Delightful gathering but would be a lot better if we did not have this heatwave,” said Flora. “I hope it ends soon; a few days is plenty.”
“Hope it doesn’t portend that something bad is about to happen. Reminds me of the heat back in India,” said Lady Fitzhugh.
“I think Pippa going out with that Richard is an outrage,” said Lilian, adjusting the pearls around her neck as she nodded towards the couple at the far end of the room. “Fancy a young girl like her, not long turned twenty-two, going out with some man twenty-five years her senior.”
“Come now, Lilian, you and Edward were fifteen years apart. That didn’t stop you from marrying him,” said Flora.
“That was different. Edward knew Father and Father approved of him. God knows where Pippa met that man. We know nothing about him.”
“Pippa said that she met him in London, at an art gallery. He’s a painter – landscapes and portraits,” said Lady Fitzhugh as she sat down next to Flora.
“He’s even painted a portrait of Pippa, which hangs on her bedroom wall. She showed it to me, and I must say that he does have talent… and he is very handsome,” added Flora.
“Good looks don’t make up for poor breeding… It would’ve been good if she’d told us why she wanted to live in London. Cora should’ve put a stop to it. I wish Father or Allan were alive,” said Lilian wistfully. “They would not have allowed it.”
At that moment, a sickly boy – aged about thirteen – came into the room. He was chatting animatedly to a woman who was around fifty years old but looked older than that. She came towards her three elderly sisters-in-law, while the boy went towards the table.
“Ah, Cora, how’s Hector doing?” asked Lady Fitzhugh.
“His fever has gone, but otherwise he is still the same.” She frowned lovingly at the boy. “He refuses to take his tonic. He claims that he feels better when he doesn’t take it.”
“Dr. Fielding should probably take a look at him again.”
“He did. He said that Hector needs to take his tonic and I’m trying to make sure that he does.”
Lilian looked up as her son, an ashen-faced man in his late forties, came last into the room, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his expensively tailored suit. Without speaking to the others, he grabbed a glass of champagne and drank it, the colour returning to his cheeks. Lilian shook her head with disapproval. She and Arthur didn’t get along because of his bad habits, but she still loved him. Arthur Endecott had recently returned from India, where he lived with his wife and three children. He claimed that he had come back for his aunt’s birthday celebration, but everyone knew that wasn’t true.
Lilian glanced back at Doris. “What was he talking to you about two days ago? He didn’t look happy when he came out of your bedroom.”
“It’s between Arthur and me, Lilian. Once this party is over and when I’ve done what needs to be done, I will let you know in good time.”
Lilian was annoyed. Even though they were adults, Doris still treated her sisters like children. They knew that she loved them, but they resented her air of superiority. Doris didn’t notice Lilian’s annoyance though because she waved her hand to get the attention of Mr. Kerr. When he looked at her, she beckoned him to come to her. She lowered her voice and asked him to wait in the library. A few minutes after he left, Doris got up and followed him.
Half an hour later, Bertram Kerr left the library and told Miss Carter and Slattery that Lady Fitzhugh wanted to speak to them. They both went into the library and she asked them to close the door. Ten minutes later, Lady Fitzhugh entered the drawing room. Her family and guests noticed that she looked happier than before. They wondered what had transpired between Bertram Kerr and her, but knew better than to ask.
Shortly after, Slattery came in and announced that dinner was served. Arthur insisted on leading his aunt, Lady Fitzhugh, to the dining table and the guests followed them. Lady Fitzhugh sat at the head of the table with her sisters on either side.
Arthur, who sat at the foot of the table, stood up and toasted his aunt. He wished her good health and happiness for many more years to come and made it a point to say that she was his favourite aunt. Some of the family and guests rolled their eyes as he said this. After the toast, they all clinked their glasses together and drank their wine.
After dinner, the family and guests retired to the drawing room where Slattery, followed by the staff, brought out the birthday cake. They all sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to Lady Fitzhugh and she blew out the candles. She thanked everyone for coming and stated that she was the first in the family to live to that ripe old age, and she looked forward to many more years and possibly a hundredth birthday.
When the last guest had left, Doris wished her family a good night and went upstairs to her bedroom.
— — —
The next morning, Alice went to Lady Fitzhugh’s room, taking with her a tray of tea and a slice of toast. When she entered the bedroom, she noticed something was amiss. She went closer to the bed and looked. The next moment, her screams reverberated throughout the mansion as the tray fell, scattering its contents on the bedroom floor.
Chapter 2: Revolt in Kamalpore
British Cantonment, Kamalpore, Northern India – June, 1857
The whole country was in a state of tension about the impending rebellion by the sepoys and the native population. Rumours were spreading like wildfire that the cartridges for the newly issued Enfield rifle were greased with the fat of cows and pigs when manufactured at the English munitions factories. These rumours hurt the religious sentiments of the native Hindu and Moslem sepoys and sparked rebellion in many sepoy companies. The European population in India, especially the English, knew that they would be targeted by the natives for extermination. Even the Anglo-Indians were not immune from the wrath of the natives.
The scouts presented themselves to the two senior officers. The Indian summer was now in full swing and the heat inside the commander’s room had them all sweating.
“Well, Chindi and Ram, what have you found out?” asked William Fitzhugh, wiping at his brow.
“Sahib, the rumours are true. The sepoys and people all over India are revolting against the British. You are not safe here,” said Chindi.
“Damn it,” Theo Fitzhugh shouted, leaning back in his chair and running his hand through his hair. “A single rumour – one which has no basis – and it has spread like a canker through the country. I have even had sepoys defect from the garrison. It will take a long time before this whole business will die down.”
“What about the Maharaja?” William asked the scouts calmly. “Is he still loyal to the British?”
“Forgive us, Sahib, but we heard that he has joined the rebels. Since he is a Hindu and the cow is sacred to him, like the sepoys he is also very offended that the British might taint the cartridges with their fat. He has asked the Moslems in Kamalpore to join him in kicking the firangi out of India,” said Ram.
“That swine!” said William, banging his fist loudly on the table. “He should honour his treaty to protect us. We would side with him if his enemies attacked Kamalpore.”
“Calm down, William,” said Theo firmly. “We need to think what to do next. The Maharaja isn’t going to help us even though he welcomed us three years earlier and occasionally played polo with us and the garrison soldiers. These absurd rumours have made him distrust the British completely. Our position puts Kamalpore and the rebel threat to the front of us, so our only hope is escaping through the jungle behind, but the next British garrison is more than two days journey from here.”
“Yes, but we need to think of our families. I’ve heard rumours that the natives have violated European women and murdered them along with t
heir children. We must do something,” said William.
“Let’s send the scouts back to Kamalpore again to see if they can find out if an attack on the garrison is imminent. We have many soldiers and we can withstand an attack if it comes, but we cannot chance sending our families unprotected through the jungle.”
“Good idea, Theo,” said William. He reached into his pocket, took out four gold coins and placed them on the table. “Shabash! You have done well. Now, after a nice meal and some rest, disguise yourselves and go back into Kamalpore. If you find out anything about an attack on the garrison, let us know. You will be well rewarded for your loyalty.”
“Thank you, Sahibs,” the two scouts said in unison. They took the gold coins and smiled to each other as they went out of the door.
Theo then went out of his office and ordered his soldiers to be on high alert. The gates were to be locked at all times and nobody was to leave the garrison.
— — —
Clara Fitzhugh called her three daughters – Doris, Flora, and Lilian – aside and warned them not to go out of the garrison’s gates.
“We just want to go to the pond,” said seven-year-old Flora.
“No, children, it’s not safe. These walls will protect us.” From the corner of her eyes, Clara spied Sitara Bai, the ayah, who took care of the children. She beckoned her to come towards them. “Sitara, make sure that they do not leave the compound.”
“Yes, Memsahib.”
“Now, children, ask Sitara to tell you the story of how she got her name.”
The children ran towards the Indian woman, who was dressed in a green sari with her head covered. Sitara loved the three British children like they were her own and in turn they were fascinated by her stories of her youth, especially the tale of how she got her name. She explained again how at the moment she was born a star had flown across the sky. Her father, thinking it a good omen, had added Tara, which meant star, to the name Sita. Despite her lucky name, life had not been kind to Sitara. Years of marriage had not gifted her with the children that she craved; instead she was labelled with the shame of being barren. As a result, her husband, Manu Lal, shunned her and had taken another wife with whom he ran a brothel providing entertainment, alcohol, music, and nautch girls for the men from the city and the English and native soldiers from the garrison. Despite her sadness, Sitara had found contentedness with her English charges.
Clara spotted her husband, William Fitzhugh, sitting on the veranda of the house, drinking whisky. He was a tall man with red hair and a mutton chop moustache. Clara sighed and thought back to the day they first met. Her father, a British general, had hosted a party at his bungalow in Calcutta. William was a soldier in the Hussar Regiment in Calcutta, and she had been smitten by his good looks and charm, and he by her innocence. They got married shortly afterwards, when they were both only twenty years old. She had been warned that he was a philanderer, but she thought she could change him. When she couldn’t conceive again after their third daughter, Lilian, was born, he lost interest in her and started carrying on with other women. She knew he loved their daughters, but he’d wanted a son and she couldn’t give him one. Clara, however, was raised with the belief that marriage was a sacred union until death and that is why she stayed with William, even though she knew that he was a frequent visitor to Manu Lal’s brothel.
Clara walked across the compound towards her husband. As she sat beside him, William nodded towards his older brother and his family.
“There’s Theo, with his annoying sanctimonious wife and their brats.”
Theo was William’s older brother and the garrison commander, and whilst William was immoral, ill-mannered, and a philanderer, Theo was the exact opposite. Theo was married to Rosalyn, a religious Welsh woman and the daughter of a clergyman. Because of a promise he had made to their mother, Theo always looked out for William and helped him when he got into trouble. Theo had even made William his deputy so that he could keep an eye on him. Rosalyn and William didn’t get along because she disapproved of William and his ill-mannered ways, which put Theo in embarrassing situations. She sympathised with Clara and, whenever she could, she would quote scripture and urge William to mend his ways. Rosalyn would share her misgivings about her brother-in-law with her husband, but Theo wouldn’t listen and made excuses on his brother’s behalf.
Rosalyn saw Sitara with the three girls and told her children, Teddy and Eliza, to go to them. After the children left, Theo and Rosalyn went towards William and Clara. Like Clara, Theo and Rosalyn were anxious about the possibility of a sudden attack by the rebels. Their only means of finding out about any impending attacks was through William’s two trusted native scouts, who would disguise themselves as fakirs, hawkers, or merchants and go into Kamalpore and mingle with the native population.
“Any news from Chindi and Ram about the revolt?” asked Theo.
William shrugged his shoulders. “My scouts have tried to gather information from the natives who visit Manu Lal’s brothel and also the hawkers and vendors in the bazaar. They have reported that it’s mostly just whispers. Some of the natives say that there are messages being sent with food, instructing when everyone should rise and attack the garrison. But they wouldn’t dare. It’s just those silly rumours about the tainted cartridges and also the prophecy about British rule coming to an end on the hundredth anniversary of the Battle of Plassey. I’m sure that the trouble will soon die down,” said William, as he calmly sipped his whisky.
The two women were not comforted by that piece of news. If the reports of the natives killing Europeans were true, then they too were at risk. They had the children to consider and they feared for their safety.
A few months earlier, Theo had learnt that he had inherited Fitzhugh Manor and all its land on the death of his childless uncle. He was now lord of the manor and a very wealthy man. He had wanted to move back to England, but the possibility of an uprising had put an end to his plan for now. Rosalyn, however, was adamant that an attack was imminent and once again urged Theo that the children, at least, should be sent back to England where their grandmother would take care of them. She reminded him that even the Maharaja of Kamalpore was no longer their ally. However, Theo, who always put duty and honour before himself, said that, for the sake of the morale of the troops, they all needed to remain at the garrison, to which William also agreed. William also reminded them that the garrison had a well for water, was well stocked with food and other provisions and would be able to withstand a long siege. Theo promised the women to have the soldiers on alert until the threat of any attacks had passed.
— — —
The siege started five days later. The garrison was prepared, based on the intelligence gathered by the two scouts. Theo stood on the walls of the garrison, looking out over at the hordes of rebels gathering on the scorched earth outside. Whilst some were clearly well trained and experienced, preparing cannons and carrying guns, others looked like they had simply grabbed a knife, wooden club or meat cleaver on their way.
“The women and children are hidden as requested, sir,” an officer shouted as he approached and saluted.
Theo struggled to hear the man over the rebels yelling for the blood of the firangi and those within the garrison, but the pit of his stomach relaxed and he turned to look behind him. He could just make out the tip of the gun in the window where he knew that his wife, Rosalyn, was now keeping watch. He hoped that the shooting lessons he had given her to increase her confidence would help Rosalyn to defend herself and the others hidden with her, if it came to that. The rebels wanted them out of India so that their own leaders could take over, but Theo had a duty to perform and a family to protect. “I’m not going to make this easy for you,” he muttered under his breath.
The attack began with a thunderous roar from the rebels, wh
ich fell away just as their first round of cannonballs came hurtling towards the garrison.
“Take cover,” screamed Theo to his men as he ducked behind a palisade just before they hit. Rock and splinters from the damaged walls rained down over him and his men. He looked down into the compound just as another cannonball tore through a line of soldiers with a wet thud and a cloud of red, the noise of battle sharpened by the screams of the newly ruined men. The once brown earth was now red, littered with entrails and body parts and meandering rivulets of blood.
Theo forced himself up and returned to the edge of the wall to assess the situation. As he peered over, he could see the rebels and defected sepoys were now running parallel to the garrison. He looked along their path and was horrified to see that the wall had been compromised.
“Fire at will. Hold them back. The wall is breached around the gate,” he ordered. His heart hammered in his chest as he flew down the steps and towards the soldiers flooding to defend the newly weakened wall. “Barricade it in. Get some timbers over there. Don’t let them…” The ground shook as the garrison’s cannons barraged in unison. The smoke grabbed at the back of his dry throat causing him to falter.
As Theo took a moment to compose himself, his attention was caught by a shout from William on the other wall. “Push them back, men. Use bayonets.” Theo looked up towards William and saw that peppered amongst the uniforms of the British soldiers and loyal sepoys fighting alongside his brother were rebels who had scaled the walls and were now fighting hand to hand. Theo looked back to the window of the house; his heart filled with pride when he saw shots coming from the window, repelling the rebels. Theo drew his sword and threw himself into the fray.
A Bloody Hot Summer Page 2
