Lady Helen Finds Her Song

by Jennifer Moore

  Helen stopped walking and looked up at Jim. “Tonight, sir?”

  “When I thought you were in danger—” He cleared his throat again, brushing his loose hair back from his face. “Helen, you and your mother . . . I’ve never had a family, and, well, I am glad you are all right,” he finished.

  She squeezed his arm and laid her head on his shoulder as he accompanied her to the door of her bedchamber.

  When her door opened, Jim stepped back, rubbing his neck. He told Sita, her ayah, to check Helen’s arm, and then he hurried away.

  Once she had climbed in bed, she considered the events of her day, until her thoughts became images, and images became impressions slipping through her mind—a sharp-toothed tiger, a father’s concern, a handsome lieutenant on a horse, a monkey who flirted, the kind smile of Captain Rhodes. They all wrapped around her like a warm blanket, and she drifted to sleep.

  Chapter 4

  Helen was jerked awake by the sound of chanting—or singing. She did not recognize the voice or know from whence it came. Laying in the darkness, she wondered briefly why her cabin was so still.

  In an instant, unfamiliar smells and sounds invaded her consciousness, and the reality of her new home flooded over her. She was in India. Memories of the evening before filled her mind and put her nerves on edge. Creeping from her bed to the window, she held aside the curtains and looked out across the wide gardens in the direction of the voice, but she saw only shadows against the lightening purple sky.

  A light behind her caused her to twist quickly around.

  Sita had entered the room carrying a candle. “Miss-Sahib is well?”

  Helen was not used to people entering her bedchamber without knocking. “Yes, I am well. Thank you.” She spoke more sharply than she intended, but between this woman she had only met yesterday taking such liberties and the haunting voice outside, she felt decidedly on edge.

  Sita set the candlestick on the bedside table and pressed her palms together, touching her thumbs to her bowed forehead. She knelt on the floor and sat calmly, as if waiting for Helen’s command.

  Helen did not like the feeling of standing over a woman who humbly waited to be ordered about. She stepped across the room and sat at a round table. “Sita, if you please, what is that noise?” She motioned with her hand toward the window.

  “Azān,” Sita said. “Call to prayer for the Mohammedans.”

  “Oh.” Helen glanced to the window. She realized the voice was coming from the other side of Chowringhee, from the direction of the building Jim had told her was a mosque. Now that she knew what it was, she sat back to listen. It was so very lovely. She wished she understood the words. The melody was in a minor key with sliding notes that reminded Helen of the ornaments used by Baroque composers to make their music complex and elaborate. But in the Azān, the effect was a feeling of yearning and gave a spirituality to the music that went straight to her heart. Helen swallowed over the lump growing in her throat. “Does he sing every morning?”

  Sita nodded. “Five times each day.”

  Helen wondered why she had not heard the singing the day before. She supposed the noises of the city would have covered it. In the early morning, it was quiet. “What do the words mean?”

  Sita shook her head, her long braid swishing across her back. “I do not know. I am Hindu, Miss-Sahib.”

  Helen leaned her head back to listen, taking the opportunity to study her ayah in the growing dawn. She thought Sita was probably close to her mother’s age. A few gray hairs wove down into her black braid. Her face was smooth, her skin the color of amber, and her eyes dark brown. Helen had noticed last night as her ayah helped her dress for bed that Sita had the longest eyelashes she’d ever seen on a person. Red paint dotted her forehead and was spread along the part in her hair. Helen wanted to ask her about the markings but did not want to seem rude.

  She grimaced as she thought of the embarrassing spectacle she had made the night before, but her expression softened into a smile when she thought of Jim and how safe she’d felt with him. The feeling reminded her of the soldier, Captain Rhodes, from the dock yesterday. His friendly manner and laughter felt reassuring in the midst of the chaos of the dock. And Badmash. She smiled as she remembered the silly monkey and the way he’d kissed her hand.

  Helen sat up straight. Her heart jumped as she remembered Lieutenant Bancroft. How could she have forgotten?

  Did gentlemen make morning calls as they did in England?

  The music stopped as the sky grew light. Helen did not think she had ever risen before dawn. She stretched and yawned. “I am going back to sleep, Sita. But please do not allow me to sleep for too long.” She wanted to be certain she was dressed and ready should a particular lieutenant call on her.

  Her ayah bowed and left the room.

  Hours later, Helen woke to the bright sunlight shining over her bed.

  She dressed and hurried downstairs, certain there would be at the very least a calling card from her lieutenant, but when she reached the entry hall and looked on the table, she saw only cards sent by ladies and a few large envelopes that must be invitations.

  Lieutenant Bancroft must be very busy and would undoubtedly call later. He had, after all, paid particular attention to her at the docks for the few moments they’d been in each other’s company. And surely he’d felt the same jolt when he’d held her hand and their eyes met. How could it be otherwise?

  As she walked toward the dining room, Helen heard voices in the library and stepped into the doorway to see Jim speaking with a man in uniform whose back was to her. Her eyes darted to the stuffed tiger in the corner.

  Jim stood when he saw her.

  The other officer’s words cut off abruptly, and he stood, turning to face the doorway.

  The sight of Captain Rhodes brought a smile to her face. “Good morning, sir. And Captain Rhodes. How nice to see you again.” She dipped in a curtsy.

  Both men bent forward and bid her good morning.

  Captain Rhodes returned her smile, raising his brow the slightest tick.

  Helen nearly giggled at his teasing expression and looked instead at Jim. “I am sorry to disturb your meeting. I only thought to ask after my mother. Have you seen her this morning?”

  “She is sleeping late. I imagine she will feel much improved when she awakens.”

  Helen noticed Jim’s mouth was tight. She wondered if he were more worried than he let on. “Very well. I shall give her a few hours then.”

  Jim nodded his head.

  “Gentlemen.” She curtsied once again and left them to their discussion. After a quick breakfast of toast and eggs, she thought she would venture out into the gardens before her mother awoke and before it became too hot. Lady Patricia would be interested in finding a suitable location for an herb garden.

  Helen was tying her bonnet when she heard Jim’s and Captain Rhodes’s voices nearing the entrance hall.

  Captain Rhodes was speaking. “General Spencer did not see the importance of maintaining the relationship either, but what he did not understand is that to a man like Shah Ahsan Ali, the neglect of such courtesies can be perceived as hostility.”

  “And is he powerful enough to pose a threat?” Jim asked.

  “In my opinion, yes.” Captain Rhodes ran his fingers through his hair. “I recommend maintaining a relationship of trust with—” He stopped speaking when he saw Helen.

  “Very well.” Jim glanced up the stairs. “I will attend to my wife, and we can continue our discussion when we meet with Lord Minto tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir,” Captain Rhodes said.

  Jim nodded to Helen and began to climb the stairs, but after a few steps he stopped and turned back to Captain Rhodes. “And the other matter?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon, definitely.”

  Jim glanced to Helen, and a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth before he continued up the stairway.

  “And where are you off to, Lady Helen?” Captain Rhodes stepped next to her
as she pulled on her gloves.

  She noticed how straight he stood. A military man for certain. “I thought to tour the gardens for a bit this morning. Would you care to accompany me, Captain?” She thought his eyes widened the slightest bit. But he did not seem irritated and maintained his pleasant countenance.

  “I certainly would.” Captain Rhodes stood aside, indicating for Helen to precede him.

  Before she stepped outside, the turbaned butler hurried into the entry hall and cleared his throat.

  When Helen looked at him, he held an envelope toward her. “This was delivered for Miss-Sahib moments ago.”

  “Thank you.” Helen took the envelope and looked at her name written on it. She glanced to Captain Rhodes. “Do you mind, sir?”

  “Of course not.” He took a step back to give her privacy.

  Helen tore the envelope and slid out a sheet of paper.

  Lady Helen Poulter,

  On such a beautiful day as this, I should be disappointed not to spend time with you. My friend and I should love to pay you a call. Shall we say this afternoon at four? I shall count the hours until I am once again in the presence of the loveliest young lady in all of India.

  Very truly yours,

  Lieutenant Arthur Edwin Bancroft

  Helen’s heart pounded furiously when she saw the signature. She felt her cheeks flush and pressed the letter to her chest, closing her eyes and breathing out a sigh. Lieutenant Bancroft. She glanced up, only now remembering that Captain Rhodes was waiting for her. “Please, if you will excuse me for just one more moment, I must speak to my lady’s maid—I mean ayah. I promise, just one moment, Captain.”

  She hurried up the stairs to her bedchamber and found Sita straightening the bedding. Helen opened the large wardrobe, smiling at the new gowns her mother had purchased before their voyage. She had received warning from a few officers’ wives that finding decent dressmakers in India was nearly impossible, so both she and her mother had brought trunks full of clothing with them. “If you please, Sita. I should like to wear my lavender dress this afternoon. Please press and air it out.” Helen tugged on the skirt to indicate which gown she meant and, seeing Sita’s acknowledgment, hurriedly wrote a note, accepting the lieutenant’s invitation. She instructed it to be delivered then hastened down the staircase to meet Captain Rhodes.

  Chapter 5

  Michael knew her correspondence was none of his business, but he could not help but glance at the note Lady Helen had left on the entry hall table. His stomach tightened when he saw Lieutenant Arthur Bancroft’s name. It tightened further when he read the flowery phrases. And it turned sour when he thought of Lady Helen’s reaction to the note—her smile and enchanting sigh. He sighed himself and pushed away the image of Lady Helen laughing and blushing in her drawing room at something the charmer said. He had no right to his resentful feelings. He’d only met the woman yesterday. Why did she occupy the majority of his thoughts?

  At the sound of her slippers on the stairs, he stepped back, waiting next to the door. Lady Helen’s face was slightly flushed, which only served to brighten her already bright eyes, which only served to accelerate the pace of Michael’s already accelerated heartbeat. Would he ever get used to the sight of her extraordinary blue eyes?

  “Thank you for waiting,” she said. The butler opened the door, and Helen stepped out into the sunlight. “I am so glad you—”

  “My lady,” he interrupted, stepping closer. The sun shone brightly, illuminating an ugly purple bruise on her fair skin. The sight drew Michael’s heart into his throat. Had the general—no, he could not believe the man to be capable of striking a woman. “Did someone hurt you?” He lifted her arm, looking closer at the bruise. He should not have acted so boldly, touching her in this way, but seeing such an injury on her delicate skin made him grind his teeth. His thoughts immediately moved to how he would punish the person who had harmed her.

  Helen gently pulled her arm from his grip. “No, it was an accident. You see, this mark is the result of a tiger attack.” She began walking down the pathway.

  Michael stepped quickly to catch up with her and studied her face, not sure exactly how to react to her statement. She glanced at him, and her eyes seemed to be teasing, which lessened his anxiety considerably. “A tiger attack?”

  “Do not look so worried, Captain. I did not perish, and as it turns out, I was never in any actual danger.”

  Michael’s worry turned to relief and then to curiosity. “And will you tell me the story?” He matched his steps to hers, clasping his hands behind his back.

  “Yes, but you mustn’t laugh. Not yet anyway. The entire episode is still too recent, and it is a bit embarrassing.”

  He laid his palm against his chest. “I promise.”

  “You do not have to promise. I fear it is a pledge that might be difficult to keep once you hear the tale.” Lady Helen sighed. “Please keep in mind that I am still new to this place, and it was rather late in the evening.” She rolled her eyes sheepishly, and Michael already found it difficult to keep his promise. “You no doubt noticed the horrible stuffed tiger in the general’s library?”

  “It attacked you?” Michael’s lips quivered, and he pressed them together.

  “I’ll have you know, in the candlelight, that horrid decoration can look quite alive, especially if one is not expecting to see it. Well, it can be terrifying.”

  “And you . . . turned quickly away and bumped your arm?”

  She raised her brows, shaking her head from side to side and blowing out a breath. “If only I had managed to act so dignified.”

  Michael noticed a pink flush creeping over her cheeks.

  “Imagine the most humiliating reaction and you will be close.”

  Helen’s expression was a combination of sheer embarrassment and mirth, and Michael struggled to keep a straight face.

  “Suffice it to say, there was screaming,” Helen said with an even expression that did not hide the laughter in her eyes.

  “Screaming?”

  “Dreadful screaming.” She nodded, blew out a breath, and then turned to continue walking. “And falling.”

  “Falling?”

  “Extremely graceless falling.”

  “It is a relief that you are not hurt.”

  “I do not think the servants had any idea what to do about a woman going completely to pieces over a stuffed tiger.”

  A laugh burst from Michael’s mouth. He hurried to disguise it as a cough. “My lady, I am sorry you endured such a frightening evening.”

  “Well, we can certainly be assured that in the case of a real tiger attack, I will be of little use to anyone except for pure comedic relief.” Helen turned toward him and rolled her eyes to the heavens dramatically.

  He coughed again as he imagined Helen’s reaction to the stuffed tiger. She must have been completely terrified, but here she was, a few hours later, making jokes at her own expense.

  A smile grew on her face. “Oh, Captain Rhodes, thank you for trying to protect my feelings, but you are going to make yourself ill if you keep your laughter bottled up.” Helen laughed, and Michael did not think a Sultan’s trained jetti strongman could have prevented him from joining her. He could not remember the last time he had felt so completely happy. Certainly not in the past two years.

  “Have you seen a tiger, Captain? An actual living tiger, I mean?” Her expression had lost its levity and sparked with interest.

  “Yes.” He didn’t want to tell her how often he’d encountered the fierce cats. How often he’d dispatched a company to protect a village threatened by a tiger that had developed a taste for humans. How often he’d seen men he knew pounced on and killed with just a swipe of claws and a flash of teeth before any of their companions could react. Calcutta itself was formerly a tiger-infested jungle, mostly cleared over time but not entirely free from the threat. It was only a few years earlier that the tiger in the general’s library was killed not even a mile away from the city. Michael decided on
a story that did not represent the true ferocity of the beasts. “Once, as a child, I was walking along a path near my home when I came upon a tiger walking in the other direction.”

  Lady Helen’s hand pressed at the base of her throat, and she sucked in a gasp. “Oh, my. What happened?”

  Michael shrugged. “Luckily, I was too afraid to run or the cat might have chased me out of instinct. The tiger was apparently not hungry, and we simply stared at each other for a moment, and then it turned away and walked back into the jungle.”

  Helen’s eyes were wide. “Your parents must have been terrified.”

  “I did not tell them. If I had, they would not have allowed me out of their sight alone.”

  “I would not blame them. Just the idea of their little son . . .” Helen moved her hand to her arm and shivered then raised her eyes to his. All trace of teasing was gone. “Now my reaction last night seems even more ridiculous. Even as a child, you were much braver than I, Captain Rhodes.”

  They walked in silence for a moment then turned down a path lined by poinsettia trees and onto a small bridge that spanned a brook. Out of habit, he glanced down beneath the bridge to the shade at the water’s edge, looking for the telltale yellow-and-black pattern of a cobra. Did Lady Helen know to watch for these things? Did she know to check her shoes for scorpions and her water basins for the deadly blue krait? She seemed so fragile, and he felt a strong impulse to protect her.

  They continued to follow the path, which led around a pond toward a white gazebo with a pointed, pagoda-shaped roof nestled among the trees.

  “And it is such a horrible decoration, don’t you think? I cannot believe anyone would think a dead animal is suitable decor for a library.”

  It took Michael a moment to bring his thoughts back and realize that Helen was still speaking about the stuffed tiger. “Truly. But I’m sorry to say I’ve seen worse. A friend of my father’s in Bombay had an umbrella stand beside his front door made from an elephant’s foot.”

  Helen wrinkled her nose and winced. “How very barbaric.” She looked at Michael and pressed her lips together, seeming to hesitate for a moment. “As we neared Calcutta yesterday, I saw an elephant on the bank of the river. It was painted in bright colors and surrounded by people in a procession. My stepfather told me the man riding the elephant was journeying to the home of his future bride.” She stopped speaking and turned her gaze down to the pink-and-white lotus blossoms floating on the water. “I thought the entire display was splendid.” She looked up at him shyly as if waiting to see how he would respond to her declaration.