Sword of Fortune

by Christopher Nicole

  Her head came up; a pink flush appeared in her cheeks. But now he was being introduced to her husband.

  ‘Bryant, by God!’ exclaimed the colonel. ‘I have heard much of you, sir.’

  ‘I cannot say the same, sir,’ Richard replied, riding his mood and utterly careless of giving offence. He did not imagine there was a man in Bombay who would dare call him out.

  The colonel was a tall man, with a bald head and a moustache. He looked short-tempered, and very watchful of his wife; Richard recalled Major Wright’s enigmatic remark on their journey from Hansi.

  The colonel looked more watchful than ever when he discovered that Richard would be taking Barbara in to dinner.

  He held her chair for her, settled himself beside her, bowed his head as the Governor-General said grace.

  Conversation became general.

  ‘News of your marriage reached me even in Agra,’ he said. ‘But I am afraid it must have been several years out of date.’

  ‘I have been married six years, Richard.’ She spoke with great composure, but she was nervous, crumbling her bread into little pieces.

  ‘I don’t recall meeting Lamont in Bombay when I was here.’

  ‘He arrived a few weeks after you…left.’

  ‘Ah. And made a speedy conquest.’

  She turned her head to look at him. ‘Yes. Yes, he did.’

  ‘And now you are happily married. With a large family, I would imagine?’

  She looked down again. There was a catch in her voice. ‘No. No, Richard, I have no family at all. I have lost two children unborn, and a daughter who died at less than a year old.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ And he was.

  ‘Some things are not meant to be. And how many children do you have?’

  ‘Three. By two different mothers.’

  She refused to be shocked. ‘I am sure they are all very contented with you. I should very much enjoy hearing your adventures. In Bombay, there has been nothing but rumour.’

  ‘I should very much enjoy relating them to you,’ Richard said. ‘But I leave before the end of the week.’

  ‘Now that is a pity,’ Barbara said.

  ‘I agree. Would it not be possible for us to meet before then? I mean privately.’ Could she hear the pounding of his heart?

  Her eyes sparkled, the tears quite gone. ‘Do you really wish that?’

  ‘Should I not?’

  She shrugged. ‘I cannot help but recall that the last time we…met, it led to your being arrested on a charge of murder.’

  ‘I assure you that cannot happen now, Mrs Lamont.’

  She gave him another long look, then concentrated on her soup. ‘I still ride in the early mornings,’ she said.

  ‘An excellent idea. Shall we say, the day after tomorrow?’

  ‘Ah…I was thinking of Friday.’

  The pink was back in her cheeks, and he had no doubt at all that she had an assignation for the day after tomorrow. But he was here to conquer, not to accept existing situations.

  ‘I shall be on the west beach at dawn the day after tomorrow, Mrs Lamont,’ he said. ‘It is the only day I will be there.’

  *

  ‘Of course, you knew Mrs Lamont when you were in Bombay before,’ Cornwallis remarked at breakfast.

  ‘Indeed I did, my lord,’ Richard agreed. He had no idea how much Cornwallis knew about the duel and its cause.

  ‘A striking woman. Yes indeed, striking. Ah…it is unmannerly to discuss a lady’s…ah…morals, Mr Bryant. But you have just returned here after a long absence, and are therefore out of touch with prevailing conditions in Bombay.’

  ‘Indeed, my lord.’

  Cornwallis was looking very embarrassed, at once anxious that his protégé should not get into a scrape and that he should not sound like a cad.

  ‘The fact is, she has cut rather a swathe through the younger members of my establishment. And since her marriage at that.’

  ‘Is that not the safest time to do it, my lord?’

  Cornwallis gave him an old-fashioned look, then uttered a brief laugh. ‘You are thinking of London society, Mr Bryant. It is not something I ever delved into very deeply. My life has been spent soldiering, sir, serving my king to the best of my meagre abilities. But the fact is, what may be acceptable in London, although even there it is frowned upon by all right-thinking people, and especially His Majesty, is difficult to accept here in Bombay, where the natives watch our manners and our morals for any sign of degeneration.’

  He was by now quite red in the face. ‘Damnit, man, what I am trying to say is…keep away from her! I tell you straight, I have been considering sending her home. If her uncle were not chief factor, I would have done it already. But when he retires…’

  ‘What does Lamont think of the situation?’ Richard asked.

  ‘Ha. Isn’t the husband always the last to know?’

  ‘I am sure he at least suspects.’

  ‘Well, then, let us hope he spanks her pretty little backside, and regularly,’ Cornwallis said. ‘But you, sir, since you are now in my employ, will take my advice, I hope.’

  ‘I shall be the soul of discretion, my lord,’ Richard said. Indeed, he intended to be. But, he reflected, I am not in your employ, my lord. I am here to assist you in your troubles. What I do with my spare time is entirely my own concern.

  *

  He had Bootil saddle his horse before dawn the following day, but refused to be accompanied by his servant. He went to all appearances unarmed, but his loaded pistols were in the saddlebag.

  He reached the beach soon after first light, dismounted, tethered his horse, and walked down to the water to look out at the Arabian Sea. The view, together with the scents of the morning and the distant cacophony of the awakening city, brought back a store of memories.

  Here he had kissed Barbara Smythe. And it was here he had stood opposite Berkeley Ford. But for the duel, he would not be where he was now. He knew he would not have changed a moment of it.

  Nor would he regret a moment of what was about to happen, if she came.

  As she would, to meet Richard Bryant, and discover how he had changed from a boy into a man. As he thought the words he heard the sound of her horse’s hooves.

  He walked up the beach, the sand crunching beneath his boots.

  She guided her horse through the bushes, slipped from the saddle. She wore a deep green habit with a white blouse and underskirt, and a green felt hat.

  She had apparently dispensed with the chaperonage of grooms.

  He held her gloved hands, kissed them. ‘I am glad you came.’

  She was a trifle breathless. ‘It was not originally my intention.’

  ‘Because you had another assignation?’

  She raised her head to look him in the eye.

  ‘I see that gossip reaches even…what is the name of the place where you are currently residing?’

  ‘Hariana. No, my dearest Barbara, gossip does not reach Hariana. But it abounds here in Bombay. The Governor-General has every intention of sending you home to England, the moment Smythe retires.’

  She frowned at him. ‘Lord Cornwallis has discussed me with you?’

  ‘Oh, indeed. I suspect he discusses you with everyone. You are very much on his mind.’

  She freed her hands and walked down the beach. ‘Was this before, or after, you made this assignation?’

  ‘Oh, after.’

  ‘I’m surprised he let you come.’

  ‘He forbade it, absolutely.’

  She turned. He had followed her down the beach.

  ‘You told him of it?’ she was aghast.

  ‘Of course I did not, Barbara. He merely warned me against having anything to do with you.’ He smiled at her. ‘But I have got into the habit of following my own whims, not those of others.’

  She looked up at him. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You have changed.’

  ‘Into what?’

  ‘From a boy who sought to a man who takes, I would suppose.�
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  ‘Does that frighten you?’

  ‘A little. But a little fear now and then is good for the spirit, would you not say?’

  ‘I would.’

  She stood there, waiting, and he took her in his arms and kissed her on the mouth. Now there was no memory, there was only the present. She felt different. No doubt she was different, as different as he.

  ‘And how have you changed?’ he asked.

  ‘Did not Lord Cornwallis offer his opinion? He seems to have formed a very definite one? I am a whore, protected only by my uncle’s presence and position. When his lordship banishes me from Bombay, did he say whether Lamont will be sent with me?’

  ‘Oh, indeed he will.’

  She bit her lip.

  ‘Is he part of the cause of the trouble?’

  ‘Part?’

  He kissed her nose. ‘I learned about your peccadilloes, before I ever escaped this place. When I killed Ford I thought I was the only one.’

  ‘So you hated me. Perhaps you hated all womankind. What you did to poor Amy Holder…’

  ‘It lies on my conscience, to be sure. But she did it for me of her own free will, and I am grateful.’

  ‘But to leave her naked, to be found by a Hindu gaoler…did you have to do that?’

  ‘There was no choice. I needed her clothes. Indeed, she insisted I take them.’

  Barbara gave a little shudder. ‘Still you took advantage of her. Perhaps you actually changed as long ago as that. Perhaps I never truly understood what I was meddling with.’

  ‘Neither did Ford.’

  ‘Now you are arrogant.’

  ‘In the jungle in which I have been forced to live, Barbara, and it is a jungle, of humans as well as trees and predatory beasts, survival depends upon arrogance.’

  She continued to stare at him for a moment, then stepped back and turned away.

  ‘What do you wish of me?’

  ‘As you are here, is there anything you would refuse?’

  She faced him again. ‘Yes. I did not come here to be insulted.’

  ‘Can you swim?’

  The question took her by surprise. Little lines formed between her eyes as she endeavoured to resist a frown. ‘No.’

  ‘Then let me teach you. You won’t drown.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘There could hardly be a more private place in all Bombay, at this hour.’

  He removed his coat and cravat, stripped off his shirt, sat down to pull off his boots.

  Barbara twisted her fingers together as she gazed at him.

  ‘You did bring me here to insult me.’

  ‘On the contrary.’ He stood up again to release his breeches and slide them past his thighs. ‘I brought you here to discover if you are indeed a woman worth dying for, as Ford did, or living for, as I did.’

  He stood naked before her, and she licked her lips.

  ‘Or just a pretty little tease and no more,’ he said.

  Suddenly her face wore the expression of defiance he remembered from seven years before. She threw her hat on the sand, released her habit and stepped out of it in the same moment.

  Her petticoat followed the habit to the ground, and she faced him wearing only drawers and riding boots. She had the pale-skinned body of a goddess. He went to her and took her in his arms, and kissed her mouth, pressing her against him, feeling her full breasts moving against his chest.

  She pulled her mouth away. ‘Am I worth dying for, Richard?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘But you are worth living for.’

  He swam out to the limit of his depth, then beyond, before turning to look back at her. She had taken off her boots, and stood on the sand, securing her hair on the top of her head with a length of ribbon. Then she waded into the sea. It was not a sight he would ever forget. Muscles rippled in her thighs as they encountered resistance, and her nipples hardened as the chill of the water caressed her body.

  He waited, and she came out up to her chin, panting, reaching for him. He held her in his arms again, feeling every inch of her nakedness as her legs coiled round his thighs. Her weight was too much for him and he went down. She released him, but he caught her again, and moving shorewards, was immediately within his depth again, holding her against him.

  They kissed as he carried her through the shallows and up the beach.

  ‘Why did you not stand by me?’ he asked. ‘With that, I could have ridden the charge.’

  ‘I was a fool.’

  He allowed her to slide down his body and stand on the sand, water dripping from her breasts and pubic hair.

  ‘As I am being a fool now,’ she said. ‘When it is too late to be anything else but a fool. Everything I do is too late, and too foolish.’

  He went to his horse, and took the spare blanket from behind the saddle. This he spread on the sand.

  ‘Here?’ she asked again. ‘Now?’

  ‘Have you never made love in the open air? You should try it. It is the most magnificent thing in the world.’

  She slapped a sandfly.

  He laughed. ‘The bites on your backside will remind you of the occasion.’

  He lay down on the rug, on his back, and after a moment she knelt beside him. ‘You do not give me much room,’ she said.

  He pulled her head down to kiss her mouth. ‘You have all the room in the world. Straddle me.’

  Her mouth made an O.

  ‘It is the best way,’ he promised her.

  ‘Do heathen Indians do it so?’ she demanded.

  ‘Yes, because it is the best,’ he asserted.

  She hesitated, then swung her leg over his, kneeling astride his thighs. When first the Begum had taken him to her bed, he had thought how magnificent it would be to have this woman in such a position. But was he not a man who made dreams come true?

  She did not seem to know what to do next, but he had little doubt she was ready, himself made the entry, raising his thighs to drive ever further.

  ‘Oh,’ she gasped, and came down on him. ‘Oh. Oh, Richard!’

  They climaxed together, and she lay on his chest and sobbed with pleasure.

  ‘Oh, Richard,’ she said. ‘What a fool I was.’

  He preferred not to reply. Had he not now achieved everything he wanted from life, at least in Bombay? Now he could start thinking about the embassy. About Sardhana. About the Begum. And about Caty and Michael.

  ‘Must you go on this embassy?’ Barbara whispered, working her wet body on his.

  ‘I must. Those are the terms by which I was allowed back into the city.’

  ‘But you will come back,’ she said, nestling her cheek against his.

  Diary of Mrs Alistair Lamont, 4 September 1787

  Was ever a woman so blessed!

  I wish to love a boy, and dared not. Now I dare to love a man!

  My God, to sit astride him, and feel his entry, deeper and deeper! I wonder I did not scream with ecstasy.

  Perhaps I did.

  I love him, love him, love him! I adore him!! I always have done, from the moment of my arrival in Bombay.

  Oh, eight wasted years!

  He has grown into a warrior. His mind is battle-scarred. He remembers too much, perhaps. Of me, he remembers only my betrayal, as he sees it, of seven years ago.

  Yet he sought me out. He wants me still, even if he cannot love me. I must be all things to him, and earn his love.

  What am I saying?

  But if I do not grasp the nettle now, then am I the most cowardly and despicable of women.

  What have I to stay for, after last night? Am I not writing this standing up, unable to sit because of the stripes on my bottom?

  How little does one suspect! He knew of Andrew and me! And had never spoken a word!

  Alistair has known of my dalliance with Andrew for more than a year, and said nothing. The moment he learned of Richard and myself, he took his belt to me, swearing he would challenge Richard.

  He will not, of course. He lacks the courage.
/>   When I pointed this out to him he belted me some more, the wretch. Am I to remain married to such a brute?

  How did he find out? He has been having me watched, followed, that is obvious. Could one ever trust such a man?

  Society will no doubt say I deserved every stroke. What will society say when I run away?

  Society must put up with it.

  Suppose Richard refuses me? But he will not. He cannot. He leaves today. My God! I am stranded here! Lamont no doubt will wish to strap me again tonight.

  It certainly aroused him last night.

  My God, to be battered fore and aft, while remembering only Richard’s soft caresses.

  I must be patient. I will be patient. I must think of Richard! I cannot run behind him now, as he sets out on a mission for the Company. But when he returns…then he must be mine. And I must be his.

  Am I wanton? Undoubtedly. But am I not to be pitied? I seek only happiness. I let it trickle through my fingers once, seven years ago, and it has been trickling through my fingers ever since. To close my hand now, while it is in my grasp, is merely an act of will.

  I will belong to him, utterly and without reserve. I will be his slave.

  For I love him.

  10: The Ambassador

  The embassy rode east, firstly, for Hyderabad.

  It was a larger body than Richard had expected. In addition to Major Wright and Lieutenant Inglis, employed on this work because both spoke fluent Hindustani, there was an escort of a hundred lancers and two hundred sepoys, all resplendent in red jackets and white breeches.

  There were also at least a hundred servants, including Bootil, and another fifty camp followers, mostly young girls, whose numbers seemed to swell every time they passed a native village.

  All Bombay turned out to see them march out. Presumably Barbara was among them, but Richard had not seen her again since the morning on the beach. What had Caesar so proudly written: Veni, vidi, vici? And then ridden away. After seven years, he had conquered Barbara and was now riding away without a backward glance. Perhaps it was some ingrained resentment of Bombay that brought out the beast in him. Or perhaps he was deluding himself, and the beast had entirely taken him over.

  It would be different when he regained Caty, as he did not doubt he would. Her loving strength, he knew, was the only thing that would make him whole.