Lady Helen Finds Her Song

by Jennifer Moore

  The men looked toward the opening to the pass.

  “All in Calcutta are safe, sir,” Michael added, realizing that the general must have worried he’d ridden all night to deliver news about Lady Patricia or Lady Helen.

  “Blasted Shah,” General Stackhouse said. “Wondered what they were waiting for. Well done, Captain. Looks like our path will take us over the mountains instead of through.”

  He turned toward the other officers. “Colonel Kimball, you already sent ahead scouts?”

  “Yes, sir.” Colonel Kimball darted a worried look at the dark opening to the pass. “Yes, sir. An advance party of fifty on horseback. Lieutenant Bancroft is leading them.”

  Michael did not wait to hear anymore. He spurred Ei-Zarka toward the pass.

  He entered the dark shade between the cliffs and spurred the horse faster. The eerie feeling of being watched in the claustrophobic space returned as he dodged around boulders and piles of smaller rocks that had slid from above.

  He’d ridden more than a mile, when, seeing the red coats ahead of him, he yelled for them to halt. The men at the rear of the party turned.

  “Retreat!” he called. “Get out of the canyon!” He hurried past to warn the others, glancing up at the tops of the cliffs, where he heard shouts and saw men running. If they discharged the explosives now . . . Michael continued forward, calling to the soldiers to turn around.

  Lieutenant Bancroft and Sergeant Carter rode at the head of the party, and the pair twisted in their saddles when they heard Michael’s shout.

  “A trap,” he yelled. “Retreat!”

  Both men’s eyes rose to the cliffs, where the enemy was no longer making any attempt to remain hidden. Understanding dawned in both of their expressions, and they turned their horses.

  Michael waited for both men to pass him and then followed, leaning forward in the saddle as the group of fifty galloped through the canyon.

  Ahead, Lieutenant Bancroft’s horse stumbled and fell forward. He sprung from the saddle, holding on to the reins and pressing his head to the horse’s neck, speaking softly to calm the animal.

  Michael dismounted next to him. The horse tossed its head and rolled its eyes back, refusing to set down his hoof. The leg was injured if not broken.

  “Take my horse, Lieutenant.”

  “Of course I will not, sir.”

  A loud explosion sounded, and the ground shook.

  Michael looked behind them and saw a cloud of dust. “It is an order. You have a fiancée. I will not allow you to die.” He put Ei-Zarka’s reins into Lieutenant Bancroft’s hand.

  Another explosion sent rocks falling down into the canyon.

  “Lady Helen? She would not have me, Captain.” He thrust the reins back. “She loves someone else, and it’s fairly obvious who.” He looked pointedly at Michael, and turned back to his horse, urging it forward. The horse moved slowly, stepping gingerly on its injured foot.

  Michael stood frozen. Lady Helen had rejected the lieutenant? But—no. Could it possibly be because she loved him?

  Another blast shook the canyon, and Lieutenant Bancroft swung into the saddle, still speaking in a low voice to the limping horse. The panic at hearing the explosions must have outweighed the pain in the animal’s foot because it started to gallop unsteadily forward.

  Michael followed. The urgency he had felt before was eclipsed by a frantic need to get out of this canyon. To return to Calcutta, to Lady Helen.

  The dust from the explosions enveloped them as more blasts shook the canyon. Boulders crashed around them, the noise deafening. He pushed Ei-Zarka as hard as he dared. The horses screamed in fear. He heard men atop the cliffs and before him yelling.

  A crash sounded right above him, and Michael was thrown from the saddle. He hit the ground hard on his shoulder and rolled, hoping to protect his head from the rocks showering down on him. A sharp pain pierced his side, and shadows clouded his vision. He fought against the darkness that spread through his mind, knowing that if he allowed it to pull him under, he’d never wake. Desperation was not enough, and the thick shadows pulled at him. Lady Helen. He’d never told her . . .

  Michael sank into blackness.

  Chapter 26

  Helen looked up when her mother entered the drawing room. She smiled, but the smile dropped from her face when she saw her mother’s expression. Lady Patricia’s brows were pulled together, and one hand was pressed against the skin beneath her neck.

  Helen’s insides turned to ice. Jim. She jumped up and rushed to her mother. She reached for her hand and found a note crumpled in it. “Mamá, what is it?” Helen pulled her toward the sofa. “You must sit down. Has something happened to Jim?”

  Lady Patricia sat next to Helen, turning her knees toward her daughter. “No. Jim is well. Oh, my dear, I am so sorry. It is Captain Rhodes.”

  Helen felt like she’d been struck. She tried to draw a breath, but it wouldn’t come. The room closed in on her, darkening her vision as her heart raced. “No. It can’t be.”

  “Jim sent word that the captain has been injured.” Lady Patricia pulled Helen into her arms, but Helen did not allow herself to relax. Her mind was reeling. “I fear it is very serious, my dear,” Lady Patricia said. “I sent instructions that the captain should be brought here instead of the hospital.”

  Helen could only nod. It seemed that her mind could not manage to grab on to any thought. “When?” she said.

  “Within the hour.” Lady Patricia pulled back and looked at Helen’s face. She took a handkerchief from her pocket and offered it to Helen, then sat up straighter, still holding Helen’s hand. “I have already sent for Lal Singh. He will be here soon, and then we will know what we are facing.” Her mother was much better at implementing a plan than dealing with emotional matters. Her face softened again as she took the handkerchief and dabbed Helen’s cheek. “But, Helen, his condition does not look good.”

  Helen sat on the drawing room couch, her mind blank and her pulse sounding so loudly in her ears that she thought she would go deaf. Her stomach tumbled, and she shook. What could she do? She glanced up and realized her mother must have excused herself. She paced before the sofa, straining her ears, and finally heard the sound she wished for and dreaded. Horses drawing a cart.

  She hurried into the front hallway but caught only a glimpse of the captain as her mother directed the soldiers to carry him on a stretcher to an upstairs bedchamber. His head and face were bloodied, his clothes and hair covered in red dust, and he was so still. The image of his limp hand dangling as he was conveyed up the stairs brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. She followed them, wishing she knew what to do.

  Helen was instructed by Lady Patricia to wait outside, while she, the hakim, and the ayahs tended to him. She sank into the same chair Captain Rhodes had sat in while Lal Singh had cared for her mother. She remembered shaking his shoulder and his blinking, sleepy eyes when he’d awoken, looking at her as if he was not sure whether he was awake or not. His eyes that were the perfect shade of gray. At this moment, there was nothing she wanted more than to see them again.

  ***

  An hour passed before her mother called her into the room.

  Captain Rhodes lay unmoving, his face pale with dark bruises showing on his forehead and shoulders.

  “Is he going to be all right?” Helen whispered. She noticed that her mother’s hair had fallen from its pins and her face looked tired.

  “His arm and collarbone are broken, but Lal Singh set the bones in place.” Her mother pulled down the blanket, showing bandages wrapped around his arm and chest. “His head injuries worry us more than anything. A procedure such as adjusting bones should have been extremely painful, but he did not awake at all.”

  “But he will . . .” Helen looked from her mother to Lal Singh. “He will awake. He is just sleeping now.” Her throat was tight.

  “That is our hope, my dear,” Lady Patricia said.

  Helen moved closer to the bed, touching Captain Rhodes�
��s hand. It felt cold beneath her fingers. He looked as if he were simply sleeping. Surely he would wake soon.

  Lady Patricia and Lal Singh spoke with the ayah, discussing the herbs the hakim wanted to administer.

  Helen stood on unsteady legs and willed her mind to think. How could she help Captain Rhodes? What would he want? The memory of his story—waking in the army hospital alone and plunging into despair woke her to action.

  Her mother had done precisely the right thing. She’d not allow a doctor to hack at Captain Rhodes or draw away his blood when Lal Singh knew much gentler methods to heal him. He’d not wake in a cold, lonely hospital. Helen shivered, and her stomach knotted into a tight ball, but she pushed her thoughts aside. He would wake.

  “Mamá, you must rest. I am going to fetch Captain Rhodes’s servants. And his pet.”

  Lady Patricia opened her mouth and closed it again; she glanced to Captain Rhodes then back to Helen. “We have plenty of servants to care for him. And, a monkey? Do you really think this will be helpful?”

  “I do. Basu Ram, Naveen, and Badmash are his family. He will want them near when he wakes.”

  Once she was certain her mother would rest, Helen took the carriage, and for the third time in a few weeks she approached Captain Rhodes’s bungalow. But today she neared knowing she would not find him there; realizing that she must inform his friends of his condition made her feel heavy as she walked up the steps to the door.

  Basu Ram answered her knock. He did not speak, but when he saw her face, he closed his eyes and lowered his head. “Rhodes-Sahib?” he said in a soft voice. “He is dead?”

  “No!” Helen said. “Do not say such a thing. He is at my house and hurt very badly.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He will be all right.” A sob clogged her throat, and she clapped her hand over her mouth, surprised by the rush of emotion. Her shoulders shook as she wept, but she did not care if Basu Ram saw it. He’d seen her weep before, and he knew why. A moment later, she swallowed hard, shaking her head and calming herself enough to speak. “Please come with me. He needs you. You and Naveen and Badmash.”

  “We will come.”

  The servants sat uneasily on the plush carriage bench, and Helen sat across from them, holding Badmash on her lap. The animal seemed to sense that something was wrong and held on to Helen’s hand with both of his.

  “I do not know if he will wake,” Helen whispered without looking at the men.

  Basu Ram spoke in a soft voice to Naveen, who answered back.

  She turned toward them then lowered her eyes, nervous to say what was in her heart. “Will you pray for him?” She hoped her request would not be inappropriate. She was not certain how Hindi and Mohammedan prayers worked, but she knew these two men prayed faithfully.

  “Yes, Miss-Sahib,” Basu Ram said.

  She looked at him, and her lip began to tremble again. She squeezed her eyes shut, took a shaky breath, then let it out slowly. “Thank you. I did not know . . .”

  “Miss-Sahib, whether He is called Allah or Brahma or God, we all pray to the same Supreme Being.” He raised his eyes upward. “You must trust Him.”

  Helen could not find the words to express how grateful she was. Her throat tightened, and she could only nod.

  The carriage stopped at the front of the mansion, and Helen carried Badmash into the house. She led the servants to the upstairs bedchamber, finding Captain Rhodes exactly as she had left him. The monkey screeched and leapt from her arms, climbing up onto the bed before anyone could stop him. He pushed the captain’s head from side to side, making chattering noises. Naveen lifted him up, but he scrambled back down, crawling into the space next to the Captain’s arm and shooting a look of defiance at anyone who would move him.

  “Leave him.” Helen held her hands up in front of her. “Captain Rhodes would want him near.”

  The servants nodded their agreement, and Badmash maintained his post.

  Lal Singh spoke at length with Basu Ram and Naveen, and feeling helpless, Helen collapsed into a chair next to the bed.

  In the following hours, she joined with her mother and the native men and women as they took turns wiping Captain Rhodes’s face with a damp cloth and spooning tea into his mouth.

  The realization came with a jolt. This was the beauty of India. This is what Captain Rhodes was talking about. In this very room were men and women, old and young, of different religions and cultures, all focused on one task. All concerned for one man. Helen was surprised to feel an overwhelming surge of love for the people of this country. For a servant who risked her life to save enemy soldiers, a queen who defied her evil husband, men who prayed for their master, a doctor who administered gentle remedies. For an entire country that made their world beautiful and celebrated life amidst the horrors around them. The feeling warmed her, and she wished more than anything she could tell him about her epiphany.

  “Come, Helen. You must sleep now.”

  Helen looked up when her mother spoke, realizing she had dozed off. The evening had grown dark. The ayahs were lighting candles, and the men had left for the night. Captain Rhodes had not moved.

  “I do not want to leave him, Mamá.”

  “I know, my dear.” Lady Patricia tugged on Helen’s arm, lifting her to her feet. “He will be watched over through the night.” She turned to Sita and her ayah. “If he wakes, send for Helen immediately.”

  The women bowed their heads, and Sita took Helen to her bedchamber, assisted her into her nightclothes, and left her to return to Captain Rhodes.

  Helen lay on her bed, wishing again that there was something she could do. She thought of what Basu Ram had said in the carriage. You must trust Him.

  The words brought peace to her, and Helen slept.

  ***

  The next morning, Helen did not wait for her ayah but hurried into her clothes and rushed down the hall. She knocked softly and pushed the door open, but her heart sank when she saw that the captain had not moved. Sita sat on a chair in the corner and bowed when Helen stepped inside, but she shook her head at Helen’s questioning look. He had not woken.

  “I will fetch your breakfast, Miss-Sahib.” Sita spoke in a soft voice as she left the room.

  Helen walked closer to the bed. Badmash was curled in a ball next to Captain Rhodes’s bandaged arm. She smoothed the blankets over the captain, careful not to disturb the monkey, then perched on the very edge of the bed.

  The bruises on his forehead were a darker purple this morning. Helen did not know whether that was a good sign or not.

  “Captain, please wake up.” She hadn’t meant to say the words aloud and startled as they rang through the quiet room. “Please. I have so much to tell you. You must wake.” She scooted closer, feeling a need to speak to him in hopes that somewhere deep inside he could hear. “I know what you meant about India. I know now why you love it here. Because you cannot truly love something if you only see the beauty on the surface: you must see all of it, even its faults.”

  Badmash opened his eyes, watching her, but did not protest.

  Helen ran her hand over the fold in the blanket. “I found my song, Captain. It is strange, and the melody is inconsistent. There are sounds of India and of fear; parts of it do not seem to fit at all, but there are also strong chords for when I felt brave and light notes of when I was happy.” Now that she was warmed up, the words poured out. “Maybe nobody else will like it, but I do not care because it is my very own. And it comes from my soul.”

  She lifted his hand, taking it in both of hers. “And something else has happened. I have fallen in love. I love you, Captain Rhodes, and I am sorry I did not tell you earlier. I did not realize it myself until I was alone and frightened in the jungle. The only person I wanted to see was you. I knew you would find me. I—” She pressed his hand to her cheek as her throat clogged with tears. “Please wake up, Captain. I cannot bear to lose you.”

  Beneath her fingers she felt movement. Captain Rhodes’s hand tightened on hers.

 
Helen gasped, praying that she had not imagined it. “Captain?”

  His eyelids fluttered, and he squinted at her, letting out a low moan.

  She leaned closer. “Captain, it is me, Helen. You are at my house.” She knew the words sounded foolish as soon as they left her mouth, but it seemed important for him to know he was not in a hospital.

  He released her hand and brushed his fingers over her cheek. “I’d have thought this was heaven if I didn’t hurt so blasted much.” His voice was raspy.

  “You need water. I will find Lal Singh or my mother. They will know what to give you for pain.” Helen moved to rise.

  “No. Do not leave.”

  She settled back, scooting closer to his side and grasping his hand again. “I won’t leave.” His eyes grew clearer as he blinked and gazed at her. “Were you listening to me all this time, Captain?”

  “I thought you were talking to me. Was I mistaken?” The corner of his lips quirked. “Or, I may have been in the middle of the best dream of my life. Perhaps I shouldn’t have woken.”

  He shifted and grunted, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his mouth pulling in a grimace.

  “You mustn’t move.” Helen glanced toward his bindings. “And do not even joke about it. If you did not wake . . .”

  “If I did not wake, what would have happened, larla?” His voice was soft, nearly a whisper.

  “My heart would have broken.”

  He moved his hand to cup her cheek. “In that case, I am glad I did. Your heart is far too dear to me.”

  Helen leaned against his hand, closing her eyes. “Captain?”

  “Michael.”

  She opened her eyes and smiled. “Michael. Did you hear what I said?”

  “Yes, although I am afraid I may have imagined it.”

  “You did not imagine it. I love you, Cap—Michael.”

  He slipped his fingers beneath her ear, cupping the back of her neck, and pulled her toward him. “My lady . . .”

  “Helen.”

  His lips quirked again, and his eyes softened into a look that made her stomach turn over in a slow roll. “Helen. I have loved you since the very instant I first saw you.”