The Brigadier's Daughter

by Catherine March

  Lady Cronin glanced at her, and smiled gently, patting her on the knee. ‘Home for a nice cup of tea, I think, my dear.’

  ‘Oh, yes—’ Sasha smiled in reply ‘—that would be lovely.’

  They smiled and sat back as the carriage pulled away on its journey homewards to the safe familiar world of the British Embassy.

  Sasha realised that the Grand Ball was only two weeks away, so she went to visit Madame Dieudonné, a French seamstress very popular with the ladies of St Petersburg. She wanted to impress Reid by wearing a new ball gown, one that was made especially for her, and not for Georgia. She chose a ruby-red creation, with a pleated satin bodice decorated with diamanté and a swirling skirt of criss-cross layered chiffon. It suited her dark hair and eyes, the low neckline and tiny sleeves showing off her delicate shoulders and creamy skin perfectly and with feminine allure.

  The ball was to be held at the Winter Palace in the presence of Tsar Alexander II and his wife, Empress Maria. The Ambassador sent a note to say that Captain Turnbull would be visiting in the next week and would the Bowens be kind enough to provide him with overnight accommodation and include him in their party to be transported to the ball? Sasha replied that they would be delighted.

  She was happy to receive the Navy man when he called upon her on Friday afternoon, a week before the ball.

  ‘Captain Turnbull.’ Sasha held out both her hands in warm greeting, which the Captain took in his, and stooped to kiss her on the cheek, his beard rather scratchy. Then she waved him to a chair, but her countenance soon turned to shock as she looked up, aware of another person as Good still stood at the drawing-room door, ushering in a young woman. Sasha stared, her mouth gaping open.

  ‘Georgia!’

  Chapter Eleven

  For a long moment all Sasha could do was stare, and then she saw the uncertainty, almost fear, in Georgia’s blue eyes. There were shadows beneath them and she appeared so much thinner than the last time Sasha had seen her. Thinner, and not at all glowing with happiness. Despite everything, Georgia was still her sister, her little sister whom she had loved and adored and cared for all her life. Without a word, with tears in her eyes, she held open her arms and Georgia ran into them with a small sob. Despite being taller, she leaned her head on Sasha’s shoulder and clung to her.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!’

  ‘Shh.’ Sasha patted her back, soothing her, waiting until Good had departed and closed the door before straightening and holding Georgia a little away from her. She glanced sideways at Captain Turnbull, hesitating, wondering how much he knew about whatever predicament Georgia had fallen into this time. Or was her presence here in St Petersburg still part of the same charade?

  Intercepting the glance, Georgia blurted, ‘He knows everything. Well, almost everything.’ Georgia blushed then, and Captain Turnbull stared discreetly at his boots.

  ‘Well…’ Sasha guided Georgia to a chair, seeing that she was distraught, a state she had never witnessed her bright and confident sister in before. She sat her down, with a small, reassuring squeeze of her hand to Georgia’s shoulder. ‘You had better tell me what’s happened and why you are here.’

  Sasha, her hands trembling, terrified of the sudden chasm of truth that had opened at her feet, knew that everything was about to change. She seated herself in front of the tea tray, pouring them each a hot fragrant cup and piling small plates with delicacies—Dundee cake and oat biscuits with slices of cheddar cheese—handing these out and taking a sip of her tea before looking across the table. She could find no further excuse to delay the inevitable.

  Georgia was obviously reluctant to speak, but the awkward moment was soon covered by Captain Turnbull as he reached into his jacket pocket and drew out two sealed envelopes, one cream manila and the other blue. ‘Before I forget, lass, here are some letters for ye.’

  ‘Oh, how wonderful.’ Sasha set aside her cup and took the letters, glancing at them and pleased to see that one was from her parents, and the other was from Charlotte, which had no doubt crossed with her own in the post. With due regard for her visitors, she placed them in the pocket of her skirt, resolving to read them later when she was alone.

  ‘I hear I am a lucky man, Mrs Bowen.’ The Scottish man smiled. ‘I am grateful fer yer offer of a room, but I can just as well stay on the ship, if it is more convenient?’

  ‘Not at all, Captain, we are pleased to have you stay with us, Reid will enjoy the company. When did you arrive?’

  ‘Early this morning. I brought…your sister ashore just as soon as I was able.’

  ‘Thank you, it is very kind of you to take the trouble. Have you come from London?’

  Captain Turnbull shook his head, setting aside his plate, now covered with just a few crumbs. ‘Direct from Edinburgh.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sasha glanced askance at Georgia, ‘So, Papa does not know you are here?’

  Georgia bowed her head and replied in a small voice, ‘No. We have not spoken since.’

  Sasha involuntarily fingered the envelopes in her pocket, her anxiety growing, but her thoughts were interrupted by Georgia blurting, ‘Sasha, darling, I’m afraid I must prevail upon you for some funds. I have not yet paid Captain Turnbull for my passage.’

  Sasha digested this information for a moment or two, and then replied as casually as she could, ‘Of course, I will let you have the monies in the morning, if that is all right, Captain Turnbull?’

  He nodded, finished his tea and then rose to his feet, sensing that the two girls had much to discuss. ‘If you would not mind, Mrs Bowen, I will take myself off to my room, and then I have a few errands and calls to make about town.’

  ‘Of course.’ Sasha rose and hoped there was not too obviously a note of relief in her voice as she pulled the bell-rope to summon Good, and when he arrived quite promptly, she asked him to show the Captain to his room. ‘We will see you at dinner, then, Captain Turnbull. Eight o’clock?’

  He nodded and left the room. As soon as the door closed Sasha turned to Georgia, her eyebrows raised and her face quite clearly demanding answers to a dozen questions. She sat down again and asked Georgia gently, as she made no move to explain herself, ‘What is it, Georgia dearest? How have you been these past, what is it, two months? Where is Felix?’

  ‘Oh, Sasha!’ At that Georgia rose from her chair and flung herself at Sasha’s feet, her face buried in her silk lap, overcome by a storm of weeping. ‘I am such a fool!’

  ‘Shh,’ Sasha soothed, stroking her hair, so fine and fair, such a contrast to her own straight dark locks. ‘Tell me. What has happened?’ Her glance strayed to Georgia’s left hand as she clutched at Sasha’s skirts, and she noticed that there was no gold wedding band on her finger. ‘Please tell me, Georgia, tell me the truth.’

  Georgia sniffed and hiccupped, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, but keeping her face turned away from her sister, as she began to tell her the events of the past two months. ‘Oh, it was horrid, Sasha, quite horrid. Felix baulked when we got to Gretna Green.’ She began to cry again, silent tears running from her eyes. ‘After we—we, well, you know, it was a long way, we had to stop overnight at various inns. And then, afterwards, he said he did not wish to get married quite so soon, and we went to the Westfaling estate near Perth, and stayed there for a week or so, until Felix got word that his mama was on her way and—and—’

  Sasha could well guess. ‘The little rat made all haste to get rid of you.’ At Georgia’s nod Sasha resisted the urge to curse Felix very rudely and in a most unlady-like way, her fingers convulsing, and then she murmured gently, ‘And then? Did you go home to London?’

  ‘No. How could I? Papa would have been livid, after all the shame. I could not believe that Felix had turned so horrid, I thought he would change his mind, and then realised that he did not love me at all, and how could I love someone so—so callous? Who had no regard for my feelings, and—and—’ here Georgia sniffed and blushed ‘—really, it was most disappointing, not at all how I
thought it would be.’

  ‘Running away from home so rarely is,’ Sasha commented drily.

  ‘No, I don’t mean that. I— I mean, you know…’ Her voice trailed away.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Being with a man. Making love. It was most unpleasant.’

  ‘Ah.’ Sasha could think of no wise comment to comfort her sister with, her mind straying to the exquisite pleasure she had experienced with Reid. How could she contradict her sister on that subject? Of course she could not, could not possibly tell her that the man who should have been her husband was now her lover, and a wonderful one at that. But then, she mused, had not Georgia encouraged her to take Reid for her husband, when she had not wanted him, had in fact, discarded him like ill-fitting shoes? She returned her attention to Georgia, and asked, ‘So, what happened? You left him?’

  ‘Not exactly. He drove me to Edinburgh and left me there.’

  ‘What! Alone?’

  ‘He gave me some money, so I could find lodgings.’ Georgia straightened her slim shoulders then, with a slight toss of her head reminiscent of the old Georgia. ‘I felt very angry when he did that, like he was paying me, like I was a—a—’

  Sasha cut in hastily. ‘The cad! I will shoot him myself if I ever set eyes on him again!’ She returned to the puzzlement of where exactly Georgia had spent the last few months. ‘So, where have you been living, in a hotel?’

  ‘For a few days, and then with friends I met some years ago. You remember Emily Stuart, and her brother Donald? They were quite surprised to see me, but most welcoming, but after a month even her generous parents tired of a permanent house guest. And then Captain Turnbull came to dinner one evening, and when we got chatting and I realised he was sailing to St Petersburg and he realised who I was, he offered me a passage, and it seemed like the best thing to do. I wanted to go home, to Mama and Papa, but how could I? After all that has happened, I am a disgrace to the family, and will be shunned by society.’

  ‘Papa would be forgiving, he would not turn you away.’

  Georgia shook her head, doubting the truth of that. ‘No, not now. I—’ she lifted her head then and glanced up at her sister ‘—I am…with child.’

  Sasha gasped, her hand clutching at Georgia’s wrist. ‘Oh, my dear! Is it Felix’s?’

  Georgia almost glared at her, recovering some of her spirit. ‘Of course it is!’

  ‘Then he must do the honourable thing and marry you! I shall write to Papa at once and ask him to make all the arrangements.’

  ‘No!’ Georgia leapt to her feet. ‘I do not wish to be tied for the rest of my life to a—a lying, heartless, spineless wretch like Felix!’

  ‘But, Georgia, think of your child, he must have his father’s name or he will be shunned by society as a bastard.’ She, too, rose to her feet and tried to take hold of Georgia by her elbows, but her sister flounced away.

  Georgia shook her head with a mulish pout. ‘Not necessarily. Well, that’s why I came here, I thought, maybe, seeing as everyone thinks I am married to Major Bowen, that I could, well, you know, just—’

  Sasha stared at her, the light suddenly dawning as all became clear. Her blood ran cold in her veins as she realised that Georgia had come to take her place as Reid Bowen’s wife, rightful or otherwise. She suddenly felt quite faint, and sat down with a bump upon her chair. She had realised that the status quo was about to change with Georgia’s arrival, but she had not imagined quite how drastically! Beneath her shock she felt a small spark of anger, at the thought that Georgia considered she could just walk in and take Reid away from her, take him to be the father of her child, another man’s child, and Sasha would merely smile and let her. As though her feelings counted for naught, her wishes and her desires meant absolutely nothing to Georgia!

  But, no, she must not be so harsh on her sister. Sasha frowned, and then rose from her chair and paced to the window, overlooking the courtyard. She glanced towards the windows of the Embassy. Somewhere behind one of them Reid would most probably be working at his desk. Her heart lurched and she felt a physical pain at the thought that tonight, when he came home, it would not be to her, Sasha, his wife, but it would be to Georgia. What would he say? How would he react? Would he be pleased that Georgia had at last decided to take up her position as his wife? After all, as far as the world knew, vows had been spoken before God by Reid Bowen and Georgia Packard. But quite how they would substitute one Georgia for another, when they were quite unalike in looks and height, she did not know!

  It was all too much, too suddenly. She needed some time to think and consider the best way forwards. All her instincts were screaming at her that she must not let Reid find Georgia here when he came home. But she could hardly hide her away in the attic, nor could she ask her to return to the ship, or send her to stay in a hotel. What on earth could she do with Georgia? Where to put her, just for tonight, until she could think properly, organise things? Somewhere safe, and yet in a place where she would not cause undue comment, and where she would feel comfortable and welcome. Sasha continued to stare for some long moments, and then suddenly she realised there was only one place that she could take Georgia to—their cousin, Countess Irena, whose house was nearby and always busy with guests coming and going, and she was sure that gregarious Irena would only be too delighted to have a relative to stay.

  Later that evening, as she joined Captain Turnbull in the drawing room before dinner and poured him a whisky, she asked, as she handed him the cut-crystal tumbler, ‘Captain Turnbull, I hope you don’t mind if I ask you to please not mention to Reid about, um, my sister’s arrival. He’s been very busy and under a lot of strain lately; I think it’s best, just for tonight, if we refrain from adding to his worries.’

  ‘Of course.’ Captain Turnbull swirled his whisky about in its glass, and then fixed her with a gimlet stare as he said in his soft Scottish brogue, ‘I would not wish to interfere in private family matters that are none of my business, but remember, “O what a tangled web we weave…”’

  Sasha smiled and finished the quotation for him. ‘“…when first we practise to deceive.” Have no fear, I do not intend to deceive my hus—Major Bowen, it’s just all come as a bit of a shock and I merely seek to protect my sister from any further folly. She is quite happily ensconced with our cousin, the Countess Irena, and tomorrow we will sort it all out.’

  He bowed, accepting her explanation, and then gruffly added, ‘Should you need any further assistance, please, I would be honoured.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  At that moment the drawing-room door swung open and Reid strode in, freshly washed and changed for dinner. He greeted Captain Turnbull warmly, shaking hands with him, and asking how his voyage had been, turning to Sasha as they conversed and kissing her on the cheek as he accepted an aperitif from her, his arm lingering around her waist for a moment in an affectionate gesture. Being part of such a scene of domestic bliss almost caused Sasha to burst into tears, but she was saved from disgrace as Good announced that dinner was served.

  If Sasha seemed quiet and somewhat strained as she picked her way through the meal, Reid made no comment, though he did notice. After dessert she pleaded a headache and left the gentlemen to their port and conversation, taking herself off to bed. In her chamber she sat in her nightgown, curled up in a chair by the window and staring out through the curtains, her heart heavy and her mind quite blank. Far from coming up with solutions to their predicament, she had no idea what to do. She remembered the letters from home that Captain Turnbull had given to her, and went to rescue them from the pocket of her lavender day gown. She opened first the letter from Charlotte, who rambled pleasantly about their new home in Ireland and her husband’s new post advising and liaising with the military and the local civilians in Dublin.

  …the Irish are a friendly people and many have made us most welcome, but they have a depth of strength and passion that makes me think them most like the Russians! Being from a Catholic family myself, I can quite understand
they are disgruntled at the moment. I do hope Anthony can help. The countryside is very pretty and green, and though our house is quite modest it is in a pleasant cul-de-sac and the children enjoy the gardens and the paddock for their ponies. It is such a relief to be in a place where everyone speaks English! Do come and visit me, it would be wonderful. Your most loving and devoted friend, Charlotte.

  With a smile Sasha folded the letter away, and then opened the one from her father. Her eyes skimmed over the words, for this was no warm and friendly missive, but a curt and frank command that demanded obedience. Her father insisted that she return to London at once.

  …it is all well and good that no one knows of the appalling deception that you and your sister have perpetrated, but it is not one that can continue indefinitely. It is merely a matter of time before it is discovered. Not only will your reputation be ruined, but that of Major Bowen, who no doubt will face court-martial for disgraceful conduct. My dearest Sasha, I implore you, return home at once. We will arrange for the marriage between Georgia and Major Bowen to be annulled, for I know you, my virtuous daughter, and I am fairly sure that I know Major Bowen, too, as an honourable man, and that neither of you have been rash enough as to commit adultery…

  Slowly Sasha let the paper fall into her lap, frozen, and yet dully aware that her father spoke as clearly as if he had been in the same room with her at this very moment. And she must obey. Her sense of guilt and anxiety lifted as she contemplated the future, where at last she could be herself and the truth would be known. Although, not the whole truth. Some things must remain a secret for ever. Like the fact that she and Reid had been intimate, and that she loved him. And that she was not his wife. But Papa was right, the only way forwards now was to return to London, and have the marriage annulled, wipe the slate clean, and somehow she and Georgia would pick up the pieces of their shattered lives, and start again. Somehow.