The Lady's Desire

by Audrey Abbott

  Anne rose to see who harmonized so wonderfully.

  The shadow of a man approached her, his voice, rich and deep. And he stood very tall. One single shaft of tawny light penetrated the gloom and lit the man’s golden hair like the blazing wick of a candle. Her heart leapt in surprise. Mrs. Mayhew’s paragon stood only a few feet away, commanding the space in the church aisle. How long had he been standing there?

  Her hand fluttered over her heart. She feared that he might see that vital organ pounding within her chest. They both stood still, as the last soft chords of the hymn reverberated in the air between them.

  Then he was beside her, and they both began speaking at once. He begged her pardon for interrupting her. She guaranteed that it was fine and that he needn’t apologize. “When did ye arrive, milady?” William asked.

  “Eight days ago. I am only just getting settled in. My servants, Bridget and Celia, are with me and Gabriel as well. Do you remember them?”

  He nodded, not taking his eyes off of her. He leaned closer, considering her every feature. She wore a modestly cut soft green muslin gown. She looked so pale within the shadows of the sanctuary. Her cornflower blue eyes smiled up at him. Her chestnut curls framed her lovely face. God, but he wanted to comb his fingers through that hair. He wanted to draw her into his arms and kiss her lips, her throat, her . . . He wanted . . .

  Well, he must stop that thread of thought and now, but he was nearly undone by her presence. And what an overwhelming and delightful surprise to find her here. He cleared his throat. “I love . . . that hymn. ‘When I Survey the Wondrous Cross’ is one of my favorites.”

  “Mine, also,” Anne said, studying every detail of his face.

  “And ye play it without sheet music or hymnal. Ye must know it well.” He paused. “And ye sing so beautifully.”

  Anne blushed at his praise. “Captain . . . I—”

  “Lady Anne . . .”

  They stood only inches apart. For several moments, neither spoke. They simply stared at each other. William’s frank gaze swept over her and an unexpected jolt of desire pierced Anne’s heart. She remembered this man. At Addiscombe. When she first saw him win that horse race astride his magnificent Grey. Since that first dance at the fête. He had imprinted himself into her brain. Etched his name onto her heart.

  Anne had tried to forget him. She believed she would never see him again. India was so vast, she never dreamed that their paths would ever cross. But upon her arrival at the fort, she learned that Captain Ferguson had been stationed here as well. Now here he stood, Mrs. Mayhew’s paragon, right before her.

  Neither one could find the words to continue until William, considering established etiquette, took a deep breath. Her scent of jasmine and lavender lingered in the air surrounding them, enticing him to move even closer. Something subtle shifted in the space between them.

  It took all of William’s self-discipline to step back. He bowed and said, “Lady Westmeare, welcome to India. I am pleased to see ye looking so well, milady. First, how was your voyage?”

  “Long and monotonous. Which is a really, really good thing.” Anne offered a nervous laugh. “There were no storms nor pirates. I truly feared the pirates.”

  William smiled at her admission and their remembered conversation at the fête all those months ago. He recalled every detail of that event. “Well, I am so verra happy to hear that ye arrived safely, milady.”

  At the sight of his bright smile, Anne could feel the tug of an invisible ribbon of remembered longing. One she sensed when they first met at Addiscombe. Captain Ferguson’s kindness and attentiveness. Her husband’s indifference.

  As if he could read her thoughts, William glanced around the sanctuary and asked, “Did your husband accompany ye here to Paanchdurga, milady?”

  Anne looked away. “No, he did not. He stayed in Calcutta. He sent me here to live and to set up a household.”

  “Your husband did not escort ye here? But this territory is dangerous. Extremely perilous. And becoming more so every day.” What could the man be thinking by sending his beautiful bride away from the relative safety of Calcutta? Westmeare must know of the hazards. Why did he send her into harm’s way?

  “A troop of soldiers and a kind officer, Major Bradley, provided an escort for me and my servants. Major Bradley was very solicitous.”

  I’ll wager he was, William thought, quite nettled that he could not have been the officer to escort Lady Anne to the fortress. He also wondered why Bradley had neglected to mention Lady Anne’s arrival at the post when he made his report to the major earlier. And who was the lady that Bradley would be meeting later? Could it be . . . ?

  Anne’s soft voice gently suspended his thoughts. “I inquired about you when I first arrived, Captain. But was told that you were on patrol.”

  “Aye. I just returned. I must apologize for welcoming ye to your new home dressed as I am. My troop and I were away for three weeks.”

  Anne noted his grimy uniform. She could see the ocher dust that coated his broad shoulders and felt the heat that infused his woolen uniform. Deep lines and sharp planes scored his unshaven face. Yet, even so disheveled, he was a pleasure to look upon. In the fading sunlight, his whiskers gleamed a reddish gold. She remembered his shining hazel eyes. Now fatigue cast a shadow over those eyes. He appeared exhausted. Yet he still stood erect and looked so strikingly handsome. She had almost forgotten how handsome. Her fingers itched to stroke his cheek and to somehow assuage the pain and weariness she saw incised so acutely there.

  “You must be tired, Captain. Please do not allow me to delay the completion of your duties.” Her own thoughts troubled her. I should not be admiring this man. I am married to another. What would Papa say if he knew her true mind? She had married the viscount for noble reasons, but try as she might, she did not love him. And he had never shown her any regard or personal consideration.

  With an effort, Anne wrenched her mind back to reality and decorum. “I should be returning to the Officers’ House.”

  “Ye must allow me to escort you there,” William insisted.

  “That will not be necessary, Captain. Gabriel will be here soon to collect me. And you should get some rest.” Looking up, Anne frowned to see the servant’s pale silhouette framed within the indigo darkness of the church entrance. “He is here.”

  “I will see ye tomorrow then?” William asked. Bowing, he reached out, took her hand, and drew it to his lips.

  At his gentle touch, something sparked in Anne’s heart. She wanted that kiss to linger. She looked up into his bright smiling eyes. “Yes. I look forward to that.” Anne spoke softly as she reluctantly withdrew her hand. Then she turned to close the lid over the piano keys. She hesitated before she moved down the aisle. “I am residing with Colonel and Mrs. Willet, Captain, until my own quarters are made ready. You will find me there.”

  They parted at the door, Anne and her servant Gabriel heading across the parade ground toward the Officers’ House. She turned once and offered a tentative wave. William returned the gesture.

  As William watched Lady Anne’s slender figure fade into the gathering dusk, a deep and sudden melancholy engulfed him. William realized that Lady Anne no longer merely lingered in his mind. She was now completely and permanently lodged there.

  He could not help but wonder again what it would be like to wrap his hands around her slender waist. To hold her in his arms. To kiss her. Just once . . .

  William groaned at the thought as he raked his fingers through his hair. Once, he knew, would never be enough.

  A sudden and overwhelming certainty seized all of William’s senses. He was perilously close to falling in love with Lady Anne Westmeare. Heart. Mind. Body. Soul.

  And there was damn little he could do about it.

  Chapter 42

  June 1813

&nb
sp; Fort Paanchdurga, India

  Anne gradually created a routine for herself. At first, everything seemed so strange and alien, but Mrs. Mayhew had prepared her well. Anne allowed Mrs. Willett to take her under her wing, while still establishing her role as the lead distaff. The first issue centered on where Anne and her servants would live. The Officers’ House was the obvious choice, but that would require forcing the Willetts to vacate their long-established home. Anne searched for and located another bungalow where she could settle her own household. Mrs. Willett expressed enormous pleasure with Anne’s decision and set about helping Lady Westmeare to furnish her new abode. As Anne had no furnishings nor dishes or pots or even native servants, much needed to be done.

  Spare rooms in the Officers’ House were stripped and items disassembled and reassembled in Anne’s new home. Anne took courage from watching Mrs. Willett and wrote to her own husband in Calcutta with a list of required and desired household items. To Anne’s delight and immense surprise, Lord Westmeare shipped everything on her list.

  A native traveling salesman arrived at the fort and within the boxwallah’s deep trunks, Anne discovered bed linens, towels, pewter chamber sticks, and even copper cooking pots.

  In order to smoothly run her new household, she took a deep breath and acquired many servants, including maids, a laundress, a gardener, even a bearer, all of them relatives of local sepoy soldiers. She also acquired two cooks, a Hindu to cook pork and a Muslim to prepare beef. Mostly their meals consisted of goat and chicken, which either man could touch and prepare, and Anne soon discovered that she had an appetite for Indian cuisine.

  Anne swiftly determined that as the wife of a full Colonel and a Viscount, she superseded all other women on the post as foreseen by Mrs. Mayhew. Anne’s native servants confirmed this status by proudly calling her the burra memsahib.

  As the great chief British lady, they saw that the freshest fruits and vegetables and the finest cuts of meat found their way to her kitchen. For them, it was an honor to serve in the household of the burra memsahib.

  Lord Westmeare even made an unexpected trip to Paanchdurga, surprising Anne by staying in her bungalow. Not too surprising, he slept in another bed. But he made his presence known and further established Anne at the top of the post hierarchy. This meant little to Anne, but she understood that in the isolated world that was Fort Paanchdurga, social hierarchy meant everything just as Mrs. Mayhew had predicted.

  Anne detested idleness and, in spite of the heat and humidity, found that there was much to occupy her in the fort and environs. A small farming village stood outside the cantonment and the native women walked the two miles from there every day to work in the fort’s laundry or the kitchens or family bungalows. The labor was hard and they were paid a pittance. But Anne observed how each copper coin felt like a fortune to them.

  Anne became familiar with and fond of the two women, Tanvi and Sita, who worked for her. Tanvi’s brothers were native sepoys. Amit served in the cavalry and Rishi guarded the Officers’ House. They possessed a friendly easy nature and their intelligent, black eyes sparkled when they greeted each other or their sister. The brothers so resembled each other that Anne assumed they were twins.

  Tanvi and Sita sometimes brought their children to the fort and Anne doted on them. It was from the children that she began to learn their language. Few of the native women spoke English and Anne was determined to communicate directly with her servants. The children were reed thin, but always smiling and speaking in their musical language.

  Anne, dismayed at the sight of their spindly legs and arms, offered them candies and cakes and fruit. She gradually earned their confidence and would provide them with small toys carved by Rishi. An expert carver, Rishi fashioned beautiful animals from teak that Anne purchased and then presented to the village children.

  Anne sometimes walked the children partway home in the late afternoon often accompanied by Captain Ferguson. The children brought her flowers. She loved the marigolds and they also gave her the seeds, which she planted in the garden beside her bungalow and that of the Officers’ House. She loved to walk among the budding flowers in the afternoon as yellow butterflies danced around her as she moved. Soon the spicy aroma and intense colors of the flowers enriched the walkways of her Indian home.

  Home. She missed home. She missed Surrey. She missed her brothers and sisters. She wrote volumes to her Aunt Martha and to Mrs. Mayhew, whom she knew would enjoy and appreciate the details of her new life in India. She received letters from her siblings. Penelope, Edwina, and Richard had gone to London to live with their aunt.

  Penelope had written to announce the birth of a robust baby boy. Her husband, David, present for the birth of their child, had subsequently been posted to a remote location in northern India. Anne wondered when he would arrive and if she would ever see him. Travel in India, she had discovered, could be difficult and oft times dangerous. They both could live here for years and never have the opportunity for a reunion.

  Anne also assumed the duties of accompanist during church services. The Chaplain, Reverend Pearce, prepared long sermons and Anne’s playing helped to alleviate the tediousness of those sermons.

  William, previously not a frequent church attendee, now found himself, when not on patrol, seated in the last pew, holding his hymnal and singing, his gaze never wavering from the face of the new pianist. Anne formed a choir. She found a fine tenor in an artillery officer, Lieutenant Chapman, and a sweet alto in Zilphia Crocker, and she recruited a willing Captain Ferguson as her baritone. Anne served as the soprano. Together they regularly joined their four voices in pleasant harmony. On Saturday afternoons if duty permitted, the two officers joined the women in the chapel to rehearse their music.

  Colonel Willett began to compliment the Reverend Pearce on his services and the benefit of the additional music. Colonel Willett even granted Lieutenant Dixon extra time away from his regular duties in order to keep the piano in tune. The heat and humidity wormed their way into the delicate workings of the instrument and played foul there. Thus, his skills were in almost weekly demand.

  One night at supper at the Officers’ House, Anne commented that she would like to expand her repertoire on Sundays and asked if anyone had any sheet music or songbooks that might provide new musical offerings. William smiled to himself, but said nothing.

  Chapter 43

  The next day, William arrived early for the supper meal and requested Lady Anne’s presence in the library. This room held a number of bookshelves each containing old and worn tomes of ancient and uncertain origin. Many of the volumes suffered from the same ravages of the weather as did the piano. Damp and worms assaulted the leather bindings and linen rag pages.

  The leather, whether calf or sheepskin, flaked off in the form of a reddish dust that coated one’s fingers and often stained one’s garments. The tiny holes left by ravenous worms interrupted the texts to such a degree that, in some cases, the words were no longer discernible. The brown spots of foxing further obscured the texts. Yes, heat and damp and insects attacked the furniture, assaulted the piano, and assailed the books.

  But William found the room a comfort after long hours in the saddle and he sought refuge there when his bungalow and cot grew lonely. A few comfortable chairs and a settee provided the cheer he desired among the books. Of course he could not openly visit Lady Anne at her home, but happily he often encountered her in the library.

  Now he waited for her. In his hand, William carried a text of hymns penned by John Newton and published in 1779. The book contained the verses to Newton’s most famous hymn that had been associated over the years with more than a dozen different melodies. William wondered which tune Lady Anne preferred.

  Anne stepped into the room to find William standing by a window. She was always amazed at how his presence dominated a space whether empty or filled with people.

 
William turned to look at her before she could hide her thoughts. What he saw there puzzled and unmanned him. He observed a wistful, longing expression in her eyes. Their eyes locked for a few moments before Anne tore her gaze away and focused on the book in his hand. For a moment neither spoke.

  “What do you have there, Captain?” she asked as a blush faded from her cheeks.

  William hesitated. “I . . . I brought a trunk full of books with me to India. And I remembered that this one was among the collection. It is one of my favorite books.” William strode across the room, holding out the book to Anne.

  Anne accepted the volume and when she opened it, she gasped, “Newton’s Olney Hymns! Why this is so special. Is it a . . . ?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

  “Aye. It is a first edition.”

  “You are not giving it to me?” she asked incredulously.

  “Well, ye can use it more than I. Aye. It is a gift . . . for ye,” William said, his weathered face breaking into a smile.

  “But I cannot accept such a rare and expensive item. You are too generous, Captain.” Anne put out her hand to return the book to him.

  “Well, there are many later editions, but this is the only one to hand in this corner of India, milady, and I thought that ye could use the wee volume for your additional church music.”

  Anne stood speechless for several seconds as she turned the pages. “Perhaps, I could borrow it for a while and hand-copy out the verses. Then we could decide on tunes that might work best.”

  “It is a gift, Lady Anne. Please accept it with the spirit in which it is given.”

  “What spirit is that?” Anne asked, looking up at him perplexed.

  “I cannot tell ye how satisfying it is to have a chapel piano that is in tune,” William said, laughing. “And ye, I understand, are to take the credit for that, milady.”