Abounding Might

by Melissa McShane

  “Daphne,” Papa said, laying a gentle hand atop hers, “if you fear we will disapprove, I assure you we have the highest opinion of Major Schofeld.”

  Daphne gasped and jerked her hand away. “Major Schofeld? Papa, he is the last person—Captain Fletcher is so far superior to him, if you knew him you would—”

  She stopped. Her mother had averted her gaze. Papa had a hand over his mouth to conceal a smile. “Oh, you—you have tricked me, that is a terrible thing to do to your own child!”

  “As terrible as a child concealing her feelings for a man her parents do not know?” Mama said. “Come, Daphne, tell us the truth. You are in love with your Captain Fletcher, are you not?”

  Daphne sighed. “I did not believe I would—Mama, you know I swore I would not form an attachment for years to come, it is just that he—I do have the warmest feelings for him, and I promise you he is worthy of me. It is just that it seems so wrong talking of love when he and Bess and the others are in such danger, I did not want to tell you.”

  “We dislike you forming an attachment to someone who is a stranger to us,” Papa said, “but with you in India, it hardly seems fair to expect you to drag home every man you have an interest in. And… is this not rather sudden? You have not been in India a full month yet. You can speak with such confidence of your attachment to a man you have known for three weeks?”

  Daphne scowled and looked away toward the clock on the mantel. “It has been nineteen days. But they were a very intense nineteen days!”

  “I fell in love with your mother in twelve,” Papa said, a reflective smile touching his lips. “It took rather longer to convince her of my sterling qualities. I assume Captain Fletcher returns your affections?”

  Daphne had to stop herself smiling in giddy memory. “He does, Papa—of course he is very respectful of me, you have nothing to fear on that account.”

  “Then I believe we should meet him,” Mama said, “as soon as possible. Where is he from? Who are his parents?”

  “They live in Gloucestershire, near Wales—his father is a baronet, and he is sixth of ten children—do you not consider that remarkable, ten children?—I cannot recall their names—” Daphne blushed. Falling in love when she barely knew anything of his family—she had well and truly thrown over all sense of decorum, had she not?

  “Daphne—” Mama began, then pressed her lips together to capture the rest of her objection. “We have faith in you,” she substituted, “but promise me you will be circumspect in the promises you make.”

  “I have done nothing to betray your trust in me, Mama.” Except daydream about his kisses. “And I believe Captain Fletcher is more conscious of my reputation even than I am.”

  “Well, that is one thing,” Papa said. “Now, off to bed, and sleep well. Try not to fret about your friends. Major Schofeld would not tell you an untruth about their situation.”

  “I know, Papa.” She flung her arms around her father and felt her mother’s arms go around them both. “I truly have the best family in the world.”

  “Of course you do,” Mama said. “Never forget that.”

  Daphne dressed in her War Office uniform the next morning before coming down for breakfast. It felt like armoring herself against her parents’ possible objections that she might not be ready to return to her duties. Not that her duties were onerous enough to try her returning strength. She had not attempted to Bound with a passenger yet, but she felt certain she was capable of it. Her arms and legs no longer shook from exertion, and she had gone Skipping over the countryside early that morning, just to test herself.

  “I admit to being loath to let you return to India,” her father said, seating himself next to her. “We missed you terribly, and having you home… perhaps I should not have insisted you recuperate here, if it would make us miss you more when you left.”

  “I am so glad you did, Papa, I know I recovered more quickly for being in familiar surroundings.” Daphne took a bite of eggs, savoring their richness. Even so, she longed for a taste of real Indian food. How difficult would it be to teach the cook to make doi mach, when this was all over and her service was finished?

  She scooped up another bite, and an ear-piercing scream shattered her calm. The fork fell from her nerveless fingers. Numb, she stared at her father, who seemed not to have heard the noise and was eating placidly. ~Daphne! I apologize if you are already awake, but I could not risk—oh, Daphne, Major Schofeld has fallen, we are evacuating the Residence and we need you now!~

  Daphne shoved back her chair. “They are evacuating—please forgive me, Papa, but I must go!” She Bounded away without waiting for a response.

  The quiet peace of the breakfast room gave way to the most tremendous noises of rifle fire and men screaming. Daphne ducked reflexively, but the sounds followed her. She had Bounded without thinking to the Residence’s primary drawing room, which was still empty of furniture that had been removed covered in gore. Aside from her, there was no one present. “Bess!” she shrieked, and darted out of the room into the hall. It, too, was empty. The rifle fire seemed louder from upstairs, so she Bounded to her bedroom—where was everyone?

  She ran from the bedroom, listening for some clue as to where the inhabitants of the Residence had gone. Surely if Amitabh’s men had overrun it, she would have seen them?

  ~Daphne, you must come! Major Schofeld is seriously injured and cannot Bound!~

  “Where are you?” Daphne shouted. A door flew open, and Bess leaned out. Her hair was a flying mess and her spectacles were missing.

  “Oh, thank goodness!” Bess said. “Hurry, Daphne, I believe he is dying!”

  Daphne shoved past her into a bedroom, she did not know whose. Two men with rifles stood at the windows, taking aim at unseen targets below. One shot and ducked out of sight, reloading rapidly. Daphne did not know him, but the other was Captain Ainsworth. Major Schofeld lay on the bed, his chest heaving. Bright blood saturated his uniform trouser leg, which was wrapped tightly in a makeshift bandage. Daphne took hold of him and hoisted him over her shoulder, staggering under his weight. She Bounded, feeling the distortion of a dozen human essences in her destination, and appeared in the main hall of Government House, far enough from the windows that the outdoors was not a distraction.

  “The Residence at Madhyapatnam is being evacuated!” she shouted, laying Schofeld down as gently as she could manage. “This man is seriously injured—somebody help! Bring Bounders, and I will convey them there!” Without waiting to see if anyone heeded her words, she Bounded back to the Residence, this time to her bedroom—there was too much out of doors exposure in the room where she had found Bess. When she emerged at a run, she found Bess in the hallway.

  “Sir Rodney left to lead a sortie against the attackers,” she said. “Captain Fletcher and Ensign Phillips are on the other side. Daphne, I do not know what to do next!”

  “You are leaving,” Daphne said, snatching Bess up and Bounding back to Government House. “Do not argue with me. I need you to organize these people because we will need more Bounders than just myself to bring back as many soldiers as possible. If Sir Rodney led an attack, they will be difficult to retrieve. Do you understand? Get someone to bring as many Bounders here as possible.” Bess nodded, and Daphne Bounded away again.

  She ran into the room and found the unfamiliar soldier reloading and Ainsworth taking aim from cover. “Which of you should leave first?” she shouted over the mayhem.

  “We are covering Sir Rodney’s assault,” Ainsworth said. “We cannot leave.”

  “That is not true, Captain, if he has engaged the enemy you cannot fire at Amitabh’s troops without risking hitting one of our own.” Daphne resolved to haul one of them out bodily if Ainsworth persisted in being recalcitrant. “Tell me, or I will choose for you.”

  Ainsworth cursed. “Take Dockery, then return for me.”

  Daphne waited for Dockery to sling his rifle around his shoulder before Bounding him away. The Government House hall was almost too c
rowded for Daphne to reach, all those human essences interfering. She released Dockery, then found Bess. “You must have everyone but the Bounders leave, or I will not be able to return here. Are there any Bounders?”

  Bess said, “Yes, but they do not stay close enough for me to distinguish them—Daphne, please forgive me!”

  “It is not your fault. Clear the room, and it will be enough. If you are a Bounder, come to me!” she shouted, and two men ran toward her, pushing through the throng. She grabbed one of them around the waist and released him half a breath later, in the bedroom.

  “Downstairs,” she gasped, “and outside. You know how to evacuate a riot?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the man said, saluting her.

  Daphne choked on an inappropriate giggle. “The Bounding chamber is beneath the stairs in the main hall. Go, now!” She steered the man toward the stairs, then ran to fetch Ainsworth. Aside from feeling a trifle out of breath, she felt good, strong, capable of carrying anyone who might need it.

  Ainsworth did not argue, but threw down his rifle and stretched out his arms to her. “What else may I do?” he asked when they arrived at Government House. The hall was practically empty save for Bess and five or six men, one of whom was approaching with his hand outstretched.

  “Help Bess,” Daphne said, and took up the second Bounder in her arms.

  Having sent the man downstairs with quick instructions, Daphne ran through the first floor of the Residence, alternately shouting Phillips’ and Fletcher’s names. She searched room after room, frustrated at how many of them there were. Surely Sir Rodney did not need so many bedrooms?

  She was so accustomed to finding empty bedrooms she almost shut the door on the occupied one. Fletcher and Phillips were engaged in shooting from the open window as Ainsworth and Dockery had been, taking careful aim and then reloading rapidly. Fletcher glanced up from his work and saw her. He was filthy, his hands and face covered with black powder. “Take Phillips,” he said curtly, “and hurry.”

  “But—” Phillips protested. He took aim once more.

  “That is an order, Phillips!” Fletcher roared. Phillips fired and threw down his rifle, ran toward Daphne and nearly bowled her down. She released him in the Government House hallway and bent over, panting, waiting for the next Bounder.

  “That is all, Daphne,” Bess called out. “There are no others available.”

  Daphne cursed and Bounded back. Fletcher had the rifle to his shoulder and was taking aim. “Let me return you, Captain!” she shouted.

  “Sir Rodney is hard pressed, and I dare not leave him,” Fletcher said. He took his shot and dropped to the floor, reloading. Daphne ran to the window and pressed herself to the wall beside it, peering out. “Lady Daphne, do not go so close!” Fletcher shouted.

  She waved him off and peered out the window. The fighting was too fierce for her to make out individual fighters, just masses of red coats and beige or gray shirts. “You cannot possibly know whom to shoot at,” she said, “so I will take you back and return to retrieve any soldiers—”

  “That is madness,” Fletcher said, pausing in his reloading to glare up at her. “You will be overwhelmed, or shot. We must leave this place.”

  “I brought two other Bounders who are involved in the evacuation, and Sir Rodney is still out there. I cannot leave them!”

  Fletcher scowled and finished reloading his rifle. He stood, slinging it over his shoulder, and held out his hand to clasp hers. “You will stay close to me, and if I say it is hopeless, we leave, understand? Let us see if we can find Sir Rodney.”

  His hand felt grimy and sweaty, but it was still so familiar it sent a rush of confidence through her. She followed him into the hall and down the stairs to the coolness of the tiled central hall. The noise was greater there, a sound she remembered so horribly from that battle in Spain that had seen Major Branton dead. Shouts of anger, higher-pitched screams of pain, the thunderclaps of rifle fire, and a deep rumbling she could not identify filled the air, and had she not been holding Fletcher’s hand, she might have put her hands over her ears to block the sound.

  They ran to the side exit, and Fletcher pulled the door open cautiously at first, then rapidly, and he pulled her outside with him. The noise redoubled when they left the Residence, but Fletcher seemed unaffected by it. The side door opened on a narrow space between the Residence and its low outer wall. No one had got this far, and Fletcher drew Daphne along the wall, moving slowly and motioning her to press as close to it as she could. Its roughness plucked at her uniform and her hair, urging her to slowness as well.

  Suddenly, the cries of rage became triumphant, and a great cracking sound split through the furor. “The gate,” Fletcher said. “It’s too late. We must leave.”

  “But the others—”

  “Daphne, you swore to obey!”

  His hands on her shoulders gripped her tightly, his eyes were fierce, and wordlessly Daphne lifted him and Bounded back to Government House.

  In which a defeat requires a change in plans

  ess had done her work well; the hall was virtually empty. A few injured men, none hurt too badly to walk, limped toward the distant front door. Fletcher released Daphne, and a second later she stepped away from him, wishing she dared hold him longer.

  Bess stood some distance away, talking to Ainsworth. “Bess, did the other Bounders return—did anyone find Sir Rodney?” Daphne cried.

  “Oh, Daphne, I am so glad. I was about to call you back.” Bess made her halting way toward the sound of Daphne’s voice. “The other Bounders returned just moments before you did. They could not make their way through the melee, and neither of them saw Sir Rodney.”

  “Lady Daphne, are you quite well?” Ainsworth asked.

  Daphne realized she was breathing heavily from exertion and made herself take several deep, calming breaths. “I am well,” she said, “and in a moment I will go after Sir Rodney.”

  “I told you that is madness,” Fletcher said, gripping her shoulder tightly as if to anchor her in place. “Sir Rodney is either dead, or captured, and in either case you would simply get yourself killed trying to rescue him. You will stay here, Lady Daphne.”

  “But—” Fletcher’s face was set and tense, but his eyes betrayed his fear for her, and that stilled her more than his hand did. Once more she longed to put her arms around him, though whether for reassurance for him or for herself, she did not know.

  She heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, and looked up to see Colonel Dalhousie and Lord Moira descending together. “Then we send more soldiers,” Lord Moira said, sounding as if he were at the last of his patience. His eye fell first on Fletcher, then on Daphne, and she had to struggle not to look away from his irritated glare. “Where is Sir Rodney?”

  “Sir Rodney led the Residence troops against Amitabh’s army,” Fletcher said, overriding Daphne. That was probably for the best; she had had no idea what to say, and likely would just have babbled. “He was in the thick of things when the gate was breached. We assume he is either dead, or captured.”

  “Then Madhyapatnam is lost to us,” Lord Moira said. “We will have to attack with greater force if we are to recover it.”

  “The regiment is within hours of Madhyapatnam. We should permit them to attempt to retake it,” Colonel Dalhousie said. He, too, sounded frustrated, as if this were an argument he had already had five times over.

  “They will simply waste their strength against the occupying forces,” Lord Moira said. “Better for them to wait on reinforcements. I only want to fight this battle once, Dalhousie.”

  Daphne had to admit it was a sound strategy, much as she disliked the earl. “Very true, my lord,” Fletcher said, sounding not very deferential, “but waiting will permit Amitabh to dig in with his forces and convince the people to support him as rightful ruler of Madhyapatnam. The regiment has a chance if they can act swiftly.”

  “The people know better than that, according to your own reports, Captain Fletcher,” Lord Moira said
. “Or were you mistaken when you wrote they disliked how Amitabh represented instability and unrest?”

  “No, my lord, that is true. But Amitabh can make defeating the Company look like a divine mandate to occupy and restore Madhyapatnam, and convince many that his lies are truth. We may end up facing a popular uprising as well as Amitabh’s French army.”

  Daphne held her tongue. So far, no one seemed to remember she was there, and she was glad of it. “I intend to send a large enough force to make the issue moot,” Lord Moira said. “Thank you for your opinion, Captain Fletcher.”

  “Very well, my lord,” Fletcher said, inclining his head.

  Lord Moira turned his attention on Daphne. “You were not to go to Madhyapatnam,” he said.

  “My lord, General Omberlis said I was only to go if Major Schofeld called for me.” Daphne wondered if Schofeld was dead and hoped he was not. “I enlisted other Bounders as quickly as I could, but the assault overwhelmed all of us.”

  Lord Moira harrumphed. “That’s as may be. Clean yourself up, and report to Lady Loudoun. She will keep you very busy over the next several weeks.”

  Daphne’s heart sank. “Yes, my lord,” she said. Back to being a human chaise… well, she had saved most of her friends, that was something. She brushed at a damp spot on her uniform and realized as her fingers came away sticky that it was Schofeld’s blood. She had seen any amount of blood that day and not felt the least bit incapacitated. Apparently the shock of seeing her own blood in such quantities had cured her. She chose not to dwell on it too deeply, for fear of cursing herself again.

  “My office in one hour, Captain Fletcher,” Colonel Dalhousie said, “for a full report.” He followed Lord Moira through the hall toward the front door, casting one look over his shoulder at Daphne as if he wished he might order her to report as well. Then the hall was silent, and empty save for Daphne, Bess, Ainsworth, and Fletcher.