Author’s Note

On New Year’s Day 1833 William Sleeman set out on an official tour of his territories, carried in a palanquin preceded by an elephant and escorted, as usual, by Sepoys and Cavalry,

With him was Amelie, his wife, and on the sixth day out from Saugor she was seized with labour pains.

They pitched camp in a grove of lime and pepper trees, a place that for generations had been notorious as a bele – a haunt of Thugs.

There the Sleemans’ son was born.

Several years later William Sleeman was appointed British Resident at Lucknow. One of the heroes of the British Administration in India, he died in 1856, a Major General,

British Resident at the Court of Oudh, he was recommended for a Knighthood, which was awarded posthumously.

By 1841 Thuggee had been virtually exterminated, although the Office of Superintendent survived until 1904.

Chapter ONE ~ 1832

“Is it your pleasure, Sahib Major, that the train be permitted to leave?”

The Indian guard spoke with respect.

At the same time as he spoke, he glanced over his shoulder at the turmoil that was taking place on the platform.

A scene of confusion had heralded the arrival of the train, which, just introduced into India, was thought to be a terrifying fire breathing dragon.

Indians in dhotis, saris, swathed torn rags and loincloths were all in a state of noisy frenzy.

Hawkers shouting in hollow voices were peeping through the windows of the packed carriages with pleading eyes, offering chapattis, coloured sweetmeats and orange and crimson drinks.

Priests in yellow robes, soldiers in scarlet uniforms and porters with huge loads hustled against one another.

There were the inevitable passionate goodbyes and shouted instructions to those who were leaving from those who believed that they were risking their lives in travelling in this dangerous monster.

But Major Ian Hadleigh was watching a number of men who were clustered together behind a pile of baggage and he was certain that they were there for no other reason than to cause trouble.

Even as the guard moved away from his side, unfurling his red flag as he did so, pandemonium broke out.

The Indians began to rush forward, shouting and screaming and waving their arms or sticks. Almost like magic a number of soldiers appeared with muskets, moving quickly into place to hold back the threatening throng.

There were few of them compared to the rioters who, intent on making a nuisance of themselves, were jumping over or pushing to one side the families who, not travelling on this particular train, were sitting or sleeping on the platform beside their cherished possessions, which consisted mostly of fragile parcels tied up with string. Each group seemed to contain numerous children besides, inevitably, a goat or two.

The onslaught from behind took them by surprise and they were rolling over, screaming as they did so, the shrieks of their children and bleating of their animals adding to the general tumult.

Chapattis flew in every direction, the heavy glasses containing the coloured drinks were smashed, and a goat got loose and rushed down the platform with its owner in hot pursuit.

Major Ian Hadleigh thought with relief that the soldiers would be able to control everything once the train had left and he moved without hurrying towards his own compartment where he could see his servant standing by the open door awaiting him.

The wheels were beginning to turn and the steam and the hiss of the engine transcended every other noise, while the mere size and bulk of the British-manufactured locomotive seemed to dwarf everything else.

Then, just as he had almost reached his carriage, to Major Hadleighs surprise, the next door was flung open and a woman in white stepped out onto the platform.

He saw immediately, with the quickness of a man who is used to the unexpected, that she was intending to rescue a baby who, knocked over by the rioters, was lying unattended on the platform and in imminent danger of being trodden underfoot.

Small though the baby was, little more than a bundle of rags, it was screaming ferociously.

One second before her outstretched arms could pick it up, Major Hadleigh swung the woman round and pushed her back into her carriage.

By this time the train was moving forwards with a steadily increasing pace and, since there was no time to reach his own carriage, he swung himself in after her, closing the door behind him.

He looked back to see a forest of shaking fists and hear the yells of the rioters, which sounded very like a pack of jackals deprived of their prey.

As the wheels quickened and the Station platform was left behind, Major Hadleigh turned to look at the woman he had unceremoniously propelled back into her carriage.

To his surprise she was young and exceptionally pretty.

She had discarded her hat and her dark hair curled about a white forehead while her eyes, large, dark and flecked with gold, regarded him angrily.

“Thanks to your interference,” she said sharply, “that baby will doubtless be killed!”

“What are you doing here and who are you?” he asked her bluntly.

He sat down as he spoke and looked round him with an incredulous air as if he had expected to find that there was someone else accompanying her in the carriage.

He saw, however, that it was empty and, turning to look again at the woman and before she could answer his first question he asked,

“Who put you on this train? They had no to right to do so.”

“I should have thought that anyone could travel on a train as long as they can afford the ticket.”

“Not on this particular train, which is going to Saugor.”

“Yes, I know and that is where I wish to go.”

“To Saugor?”

The girl, for she was little more, drew herself up.

“I suppose,” she enquired after a moment, “that you have some authority to question me?”

“I have every authority.” Major Hadleigh said firmly. “I gave orders that no Europeans were to travel to Saugor, which is at the moment a forbidden area.”

“Why?”

The question seemed to demand an answer, but he replied somewhat evasively,

“Official reasons of administration, but you have not answered my question.”

He guessed, as he spoke, that she had no intention of doing so and in a more restrained tone he said,

“Perhaps we should introduce ourselves. I am Ian Hadleigh and, as you can no doubt see from my uniform, I am in the Bengal Lancers, but at this moment on special duties in this area.”

Major Hadleigh finished speaking and waited for a reply.

As he did so, he thought that the girl he was talking to was far too pretty and too young to be travelling alone in any part of India and certainly not this particular district at this sensitive moment.

There was a studied pause as if she resented having to give him any information. Then, as if she thought that there was no point in being difficult, she stated with obvious reluctance,

“My name is Brucena Nairn.”

“And you are travelling to Saugor?”

“Yes.”

“May I ask why?”

“I am staying with friends.”

“I am not being unnecessarily curious,” Major Hadleigh said, “but I would like to know their names.”

Again he had the feeling that she would like to defy him and tell him to mind his own business.

She was still angry, which he could see in her eyes that he thought now were very expressive and seemed, although they were dark, somehow to be filled with the sunshine that in a few hours would turn the plains outside into an inferno of dry heat.

“I am staying,” she answered him at length in a low musical voice, “with Captain and Mrs. Sleeman.”

Major Hadleigh stared at her incredulously.

“With the Sleemans?” he questioned. “Is that possible?”

“Does it sound to you so very improbable?” Brucena Nairn enquired.

“I cannot believe that William Sleeman could be expecting a guest like you without telling me of her arrival and making proper arrangements for her reception.”

Brucena Nairn shrugged her shoulders.

“If that is what you think, there is no reason for me to say anything more.”

Her small chin went up defiantly and she deliberately stared out the window as though the conversation was at an end.

Almost in spite of himself, Ian Hadleigh found himself smiling.

There was, he thought, something amusing in the antagonism of this small creature who had no right to be on the train let alone arguing with him about it.

He now thought it wise to be conciliatory.

“I must apologise, Miss Nairn,” he began, “but quite frankly you have taken me by surprise. For the last week Saugor has been out of bounds to all Europeans. As you saw just now at the Station, there has been a certain amount of trouble and, if you had been left behind, you might have found yourself in a very unpleasant situation.”

“What are they rioting about?” Brucena Nairn enquired.

“There is usually trouble at this time of the year,” Major Hadleigh replied evasively. “But I still cannot understand why Captain Sleeman did not tell me that he was expecting you.”

As he spoke, he saw to his surprise a faint colour come into the cheeks of the girl opposite him and for a moment her eyes flickered.

“He and Mrs. Sleeman really are expecting you?” he questioned in a different tone.

There was a slight pause before Brucena Nairn replied in a low voice,

“I – hope so.”

“You hope so,” Major Hadleigh repeated. “I should be grateful if you would explain to me exactly what has happened and why you are here.”

“There is no reason – ” Brucena started.

Then her eyes met Major Hadleigh’s and almost against her will she found herself capitulating.

There was something about him, she thought, that was authoritative and she resented it and yet at the same time she did not feel that she could go on defying him,

“It is like this,” she said after a moment, “Captain Sleeman is my cousin.”

“So he suggested that you should come and stay with him in India?” Major Hadleigh interposed, as if he was beginning to understand what had happened.

“N-not – exactly.”

The words were spoken hesitantly and he looked at Brucena Nairn sharply before he asked,

“What do you mean by that?”

“His wife, Mrs. Sleeman, wrote to me asking if I would find her a – child’s Nanny. She is – expecting a – baby next year.”

There was a faint colour in Brucena’s cheeks, as if she was embarrassed to speak of anything so intimate and Major Hadleigh said quickly,

“Yes, yes. I am aware of that.”

“I tried everywhere to find a respectable woman who would go to India, but they all refused.”

As she spoke, Brucena was thinking that it had been an impossible task to convince the Scottish girls in Invernessshire that they would find India a desirable place to work in.

It was not only they who were reluctant but also their mothers.

“I’m no havin’ my lassie consortin’ with the heathens,” they said over and over again. “She’ll stay right here, where I can keep my eye on her.”

“But you must see that it would be quite an adventure as well as being an education,” Brucena had pleaded, only to be answered by one straight-backed Scot,

“My bairn is no havin’ that sort of adventure at her tender age. If it sounds so attractive to you, Miss Brucena, why do you not go yoursel?”

It was that answer that had put the idea into Brucena’s head in the first place.

At the time she had just laughed, but later, when her task of finding a Nanny for Cousin Amelie had proved more and more impossible, she had begun to feel as if India beckoned her and she would be foolish to refuse the invitation.

She had not been happy at home ever since she had been old enough to realise that she was a desperate disappointment to her father because he had desperately wanted a son.

General Nairn had only two interests in life, his Regiment and the continuation of the Nairn family.

His greatest joy was opening the books that he could follow the history of the Nairns in all down the ages and prove that, if nothing else, they were ferocious fighters.

Brucena used to think that ever since he was a boy himself he had dreamt of the day when he would have one or more sons by his side to fight with him and to add trophies of the wars that they took part in to those that already hung on the walls of Nairn Castle.

‘I am a failure to Papa,’ she had told herself before she was nine years old.

In the years that followed she began to realise how much he resented her because she had disappointed his greatest ambition by being a girl instead of a boy.

If she had not been reminded of it in other ways, she could remember it whenever she heard her name.

‘Bruce’ was a family name of the Nairns and her father had had her christened ‘Brucena’, almost as if he defied the Gods who had served him a scurvy trick in not providing the son he so ardently desired.

Then two years ago when her mother had died, her father, with almost indecent haste, had seized the opportunity to marry again.

He had chosen a young woman only three years older than his own daughter, but who was very different in appearance and might have been described as ‘good breeding stock’.

Sturdy and heavily built with no pretensions to good looks, Jean had been proud and excited to marry the owner of Nairn Castle, but she had resented her stepdaughter’s appearance from the first moment she had seen her.

It was inevitable that Brucena’s beauty and her attractiveness to men would not endear her to any stepmother, least of all to one who was so young.

The tension that had always existed between her and her father was accentuated, quickly and violently, where his new wife was concerned.

And when six months ago Jean had given birth to the much longed-for son, Brucena had found her position in The Castle untenable.

She was found fault with frequently by her father, she tried to ignore the hatred in her stepmother’s eyes and she was sure that, once the pampered adored heir could see and think, he would hate her too.

‘I must get away,’ she had thought not once but a thousand times, but she had no idea where she could go.

Her Nairn relations not only did not want her but would feel uncomfortable if they offered her a home without being asked to do so by the General.

Although Brucena had never broached the subject to him, she thought that her father’s pride would never allow him either to ask for or accept favours from his relatives, most of whom he found boring and seldom invited to The Castle.

All that Brucena possessed of her own was three hundred pounds, which had been left her as a legacy by her grandmother and was paid to her every year in January.

She had been instructed not to spend it and she knew that her father thought that it would constitute part of her dowry on her marriage and would therefore save him from providing as much as he might otherwise have been obliged to otherwise.

Now she knew that because it was her own it was a Godsend and she could pay her own fare to India.

She debated in her mind for a long time whether she should tell her father what she intended to do and then decided against it.

She had the feeling that, although he disliked her, he rather enjoyed having someone to quarrel with and to scold.

She was there and when things displeased him he could vent his wrath on her in a manner that he would have hesitated to use with anyone else.

Suddenly it seemed to Brucena as if everything fell into place as a plan came to her mind and she really had little difficulty in putting it into operation.

A girl who had been her one friend after she had grown up invited her to accompany her and her parents to Edinburgh.

“Papa and Mama are going to be very busy,” she had said to Brucena, “because Papa has to receive all the grand people who are coming from the South for an inspection of the troops. As they thought I would find it lonely, they have suggested that I ask you to come with me. We can look in the shops and we might even be asked to a ball. Anyway it would be fun to be together.”

“Great fun,” Brucena agreed readily.

She thought that her father would make difficulties about her going to Edinburgh, but to her surprise he said that he thought it was a good idea as long as she was not away for long.

He made this condition, she thought, merely because he in fact begrudged her any amusement, although not so violently as he would have done a year ago before he had had an heir, a son to carry on his name.

Brucena was certain when she left, with only perfunctory goodbyes from her father and her stepmother that they were really glad to be rid of her for a little while.

That, she thought, exonerated her conscience from any feeling of guilt about what she was to do.

She stayed in Edinburgh for a week, spending her time shopping surreptitiously for the things she thought she would need in India.

She was intelligent enough not to go to a new country before learning something about it, but it had been hard to find books at home that told her anything she wanted to know.

There was, however, plenty of information about India in the bookshops in Edinburgh and she soon accumulated quite a small library, which she knew she would have time to read over and over again on the voyage.

She told her friends in Edinburgh that she had to return home as her father was expecting her and, when they reluctantly said ‘goodbye’ to her, she took a train to London.

This, she thought as she travelled South, was where the real adventure started.

Strangely enough, Brucena was quite confident that she could look after herself and that she would reach India in safety.

Mrs. Sleeman had sent her full instructions as to how the Nanny, when she found one, was to be sent out.

When Brucena had read the closely worded pages inscribed in Cousin Amelie’s elegant writing, she thought with a smile that it was rather like despatching a valuable parcel that must not be damaged on the voyage.

She learnt that the P. & O. Line could provide for everything and a chaperone for the young woman would be found amongst the passengers who would be travelling Second Class.

Cousin Amelie had written,

“There will be Missionaries or Christian women of some organisation or another traveling to Bombay, but, although I am sure that they would not accept money for their services, which they would look upon as an act of charity, you must, of course, provide the woman you are sending with an adequate present to recompense them for their kindness.”

In the P. & O. office Brucena had rather a different story to tell.

“I have to journey to India to stay with relatives,” she said, “but unfortunately the lady who was to chaperone me has been taken ill and I am wondering if you could find anyone who would be kind enough to look after me on the voyage?”

The Official stared at Brucena’s pretty face and thought to himself that a chaperone would certainly be needed for such an attractive girl.

There were always Officers returning from leave and dealing with shipboard romances was what every Purser found to be one of his less arduous duties.

Sometimes, however, they could be traumatic when the passengers were cooped up for so long with one another and there was no chance of getting away.

He had, however, as Mrs. Sleeman had forecast, been only too willing to oblige.

“I think I have exactly the lady you need, Miss Nairn,” he said. “Canon Grant and his wife are returning to Bombay and I am certain that Mrs. Grant would be only too willing to oblige, when I explain the circumstances to her.”

“It would be very kind of you to do so,” Brucena smiled.

She had known by the expression on the Official’s face that he would leave no stone unturned to help her.

Mrs. Grant and her husband had, for that matter, proved a worthy but extremely dull couple. Officially they had provided Brucena with an umbrella of respectability, but they had not interfered with her so she was able to spend a great deal of time reading.

She also enjoyed the sports on board ship and in the evening found herself the centre of attraction amongst the men who wished to dance with her much to the disgust of other young women aboard.

It had in fact been the first time in her life when she had felt free without being continually found fault with as she had been at home.

It was a joy to be able to express an opinion without being slapped down and a greater joy than she could ever put into words was to know that, whatever her father felt about her deceiving him, he could do nothing about it.

She had spent what seemed to her an astronomical amount of money on her fare and her clothes, but she still had some left.

Now that she had taken the plunge and had left home, she knew in her heart that she would never go back and, if the Sleemans did not want her, she would find somewhere else to work.

She had cabled them before the ship sailed, saying,

“Have found person you require. Details follow.

Love, Brucena.”

She deliberately did not state the date of her arrival or explain that she herself was coming instead of the Nanny who Cousin Amelie had asked for.

This was only a precaution because she felt that perhaps they would not want her and would take steps to send her home when she reached Bombay.

‘They will think,’ she told herself, ‘that the Nanny is coming in a month or so and that the letter, which I have no intention of writing, will explain who she is and why I think her suitable.’

She thought it over and knew that when she arrived, ready to do anything that was required of her, the Sleemans would find it extremely difficult to make her go home.

‘At least they will have to keep me for a little time,’ Brucena argued with herself.

At the same time, in spite of her reassurance to herself that she would be a far better Nanny than any raw Scots girl, she could not help feeling that she was rather imposing herself on people who might not want her.

Cousin William had always been very pleasant to her.

She remembered that as a child, when he had come to stay at The Castle, she had thought him slightly awe-inspiring because he was so clever.

Auburn-haired, blue-eyed and with a fine large forehead, she had learnt on his second visit several years later that he spoke Arabic, Persian and Urdu.

He was Cornish, as her mother had been, and their families had been neighbours for centuries.

Because of his intelligence he had in his thirties been seconded from his Regiment to Civil Administration and General Nairn had been impressed by the fact that he had become a Magistrate and a District Officer in Central India much earlier than most other men of his age.

It was three years ago in 1830 that a letter from Captain Sleeman to the General brought the news that he had been appointed by the new Governor General, Lord William Bentinck, to a very important position.

“He is the right man for the job,” the General had thundered as he read the letter at breakfast.

“What is the job, Papa?” Brucena enquired.

“His title is Superintendent for the Suppression of Thuggee,” the General replied, “but you would not understand about that.”

He spoke disparagingly not only as a man who thinks that a woman’s intellect does not extend beyond the kitchen or the nursery but also because he disliked Brucena’s curiosity, which made her ask him questions that he would have welcomed from a boy rather than a girl.

“I have read about the Thugs, Papa,” Brucena had replied, “They are a Secret Society who worship the Hindu God Kali and believe it is their sacred right to strangle people.”

“You really should not know about such things,” the General said disagreeably, “but William will soon have that abomination under control.”

“How will he do it?” Brucena enquired.

“He has been given fifty mounted irregulars and forty Sepoy infantrymen,” the General snapped. “It should be enough. It is a job I would have liked to do myself when I was younger.”

There were a hundred questions that Brucena had wanted to ask, but her father had walked from the room taking William Sleeman’s letter with him and she knew that it would be hopeless to even try.

Instead she tried to find out everything she could about Thuggee, but she had not been very successful and even in Edinburgh the books she could buy told her very little more than she knew already,

Now, as Major Hadleigh sat regarding her with what she thought was a suspicious look in his eyes, she said,

“My cousin asked me to send his wife a Nanny, but, as I could not find the right sort of person they required, I – came myself.

Major Hadleigh smiled.

“Without giving them the chance of rejecting you?”

“Yes.”

“Now I am beginning to understand. But surely you did not make the voyage from England without having somebody to chaperone you?”

“No, I was chaperoned most efficiently by Canon and Mrs. Grant as far as Bombay. They even found someone to look after me from there to Bhopal, but unfortunately she was taken ill at the last moment and instead of waiting for them to find someone else I just came alone.”

“I see you are a very enterprising young woman,” Major Hadleigh remarked “At the same time surely you are aware that it is unheard of for any woman, married or unmarried, to travel alone in India?”

“I thought that the English now have the Indians well under control,” Brucena parried provocatively.

“We do our best,” Major Hadleigh replied. “Equally I hardly believe that you would travel in England without either a chaperone or a maid.”

“I can look after myself.”

“I rather doubt it. It is certainly something that you must not attempt in this country again.”

Brucena remembered the screaming yelling rioters on the Station platform. She would not give Major Hadleigh the satisfaction of knowing that they had in fact really frightened her and she could not bear to wonder what had happened to the small baby on the platform.

“Now that you are here,” Major Hadleigh said, “I can look after you for the rest of your journey, but I feel that you will be somewhat of a surprise to the Captain.”

“Are you working with him?” Brucena enquired.

“I am.”

“Then why have you a higher rank than he has?”

Major Hadleigh smiled.

“Your cousin is a Civil Servant appointed directly by the Governor-General. He is Superintendent of a very large territory, while I am in charge of the soldiers.”

This was a gross understatement that Brucena was to discover later of the very special duties he undertook, but now she only smiled.

“As you are working with Cousin William, will you tell me about the Thugs? I have been very interested ever since I learnt that Cousin William had this post nearly three years ago, but it is very difficult to find out anything about them in Scotland.”

“Why are you so interested?” Major Hadleigh enquired.

“I am interested in anything about India,” Brucena replied. “Actually I was born here and, although I remember nothing about it, I have always wanted to come back.”

Major Hadleigh looked surprised.

“My father served for some years on the North-West Frontier,” Brucena explained. “We left India when I was one year old and, although he returned later for several years, my mother and I were left in Scotland.”

“And yet the country attracts you?”

“It’s strange,” Brucena said after a moment, “but ever since I arrived in Bombay I have felt almost – as if I have come home.”

He looked at her sharply, almost as if he thought that she might have been speaking merely for effect.

However she was not looking at him but at the countryside that they were passing through, thinking that the dry arid ground, the lost little villages with clumps of trees round a waterhole, the water buffaloes plodding slowly towards it, were all things that she had seen before. Although why she should feel like this she had no idea.

“You asked me about Thuggee,” Major Hadleigh began and instantly her eyes turned towards him with interest.

“I hope,” he went on, “that it is something that you will learn nothing about while you are here. Yet it is essential that everyone who lives in this district should be on their guard.”

As he spoke, he thought of what he had seen at the Temple of Kali at Bindhaghal on the Ganges.

It was a Shrine that supplicants came to at the end of the rainy season from all over India to propitiate the Goddess.

The tracks to the Temple were crowded with bullock carts, beggars, wandering cows and barefoot pilgrims.

There was the fragrance of incense and blossom and the smell of dust, which swirled round the Temple walls. There was also the stink of death.

Night and day goats were sacrificed, their blood spilling down the Temple steps and, combined with their frightened baaing, there were the shrieks of the fanatical devotees who flagellated themselves as they evoked the blessing of the Gods.

To Ian Hadleigh, the blood Goddess, the terrible consort of Shiva the Destroyer, black, furious and naked with her bludgeon stuck all about with human skulls, was symbolic of everything he was fighting.

With the protruding tongue and the bloodshot eyes, the haunter of burning ground, in whose heart death and terror festered, was the adored one worshipped by the Thugs.

This was their Holy place and from here the fraternity of stranglers had for hundreds of years gone out to terrorise the travellers of India,

The adherents of the cult had their own rituals, traditions and hierarchy and, when they strangled strangers on the road, they believed that they were killing in Kali’s cause.

Wondering how he could possibly explain Thuggee to the young and innocent girl sitting opposite him, Ian Hadleigh looked back and remembered how it had traditionally been the East India Company’s policy not to interfere with India’s religious customs.

In fact a blind eye had, been turned on the rumours and legends of Thuggee, but the English women now coming out more frequently from England with their reforming zeal were appalled at the native customs, which had hitherto been left to carry on as they had for centuries.

The English were now set to put down the most offensive of these, however ancient or divinely-rooted. Human sacrifice and infanticide was forbidden, as was Suttee, the practice of the burning of widows,

It was obvious also that something had to be done about the abomination of Bindhaghal, the Headquarters of the Secret Society of stranglers.

The cult had not been studied, nor its ramifications looked into very deeply, until Captain William Sleeman, who was serving in the East India Company’s Bengal Army, had become interested in its ghastly mystery.

He learnt that Thugs worked in absolute secrecy according to strictly enforced rituals.

They were dedicated highway murderers and killed with a well-trained technique of noose-work, knee and grapple, strangling their victims from behind with a yellow silk scarf.

Then they cut the bodies about in ritual gashes, buried them or threw them down wells, burnt any belongings of no value and carried off the rest.

No trace of the unfortunate travellers was ever left at the scene of the crime.

As in most activities in India, Thuggee was strictly hereditary. A boy was initiated stage by stage into his craft, first as a scout, secondly as a gravedigger and then as an assistant murderer and finally, if he could show a keen ferocity, as a qualified blurtote or strangler and an aristocrat amongst Thugs.

It was William Sleeman who had found out the pattern and the enormous ramifications of this Society, which spread like a poisonous web over the whole of India.

Setting up his Headquarters at Saugor, a drab town set on a forbidding lake in the heart of the Thuggee country, he organised his campaign.

Ian Hadleigh remembered now that some of the senior Officials in the service of Indian Princes were experienced stranglers and a Sergeant drilling the soldiers of the Ruler of Hockar in the courtyard of His Highness’s Palace was another.

Some were the trusted servants of Europeans and others had spent half a lifetime in the service of the East India Company’s armed forces and one quite recently had been a well-known Police informer in other fields of crime.

It was frightening to think that the man you had trusted for years, a soldier who had obeyed your commands and your own servant, might have also taken the sacred oath of Thuggee,

To the Thugs their work was sacred and they believed that their own powers were supernatural.

They were in an occult partnership with their kin of the animal world, the tiger.

One famous strangler had said when questioned,

“Those who escape the tigers fall into the hands of the Thugs and those who escape the Thugs are devoured by the tigers!”

Perhaps on reflection the tigers were less frightening!

Major Hadleigh had heard one prisoner admitting that he had committed 931 murders by his own hand. Another Thuggee gang had three hundred men and boasted of more killings that it seemed possible for any men to achieve even over a number of years.

Ian Hadleigh recognised that the years he had been working with Wilham Sleeman had been the most incredible, the most hair-raising and at the same time the most exciting years of his life.

How could he explain this to the girl, fresh from England and knowing nothing of India, sitting opposite him?

As if in some way she was aware of what he was thinking, Brucena said,

“I want to understand and I realise fully that it is a very ambitious idea, but I still have to start somewhere.”

“I only regret that in coming to India you have begun with Thuggee,” Major Hadleigh replied.

Brucena smiled and asserted,

“Perhaps in a way it makes it more interesting. So many people eulogise over the Taj Mahal and the brilliance of the Administration of the East India Company.”

There was a touch of sarcasm in her voice that made Major Hadleigh look at her critically.

“‘Our Administration is brilliant in some ways,” he acknowledged, “but in a land as large and densely populated as India there is inevitably a great deal left undone”

“That I can well believe,” Brucena said, “but I feel in a way it is presumptuous of us to try to change a people whose civilisation goes back long before ours. Who are we to judge whether their beliefs are right or wrong?”

Ian Hadleigh looked at her in surprise.

This was not the conventional attitude taken by the young women who came to India.

Most were concerned only with the amusements they could find at Government House in the endless tea parties, the polo, the dancing and the gossiping.

Otherwise they were earnest Missionaries of one persuasion or another, determined that whatever the Indians were doing must be stopped simply because it was different from what they themselves had been told was right or wrong at home.

If there was one thing that Ian Hadleigh really disliked it was an evangelical Imperialism combined with a high moral fervour. He found that those who had made it their life’s work were boring and narrow-minded.

He often thought that he preferred the superstition and savagery of India, the widow burning and the infanticide to the religious bigotry and tight-lipped, narrow-minded zeal of those who disliked even the beauty of the country because it had a seductive effect upon them.

“I think the first thing you must do,” he said aloud, “is to try to understand the Indians as individuals, not as a whole since each one belongs to a different Caste and has a different outlook and obeys self-imposed rules that no Government, however skilfully administered, can change.”

“It would spoil them if we did,” Brucena said almost as if she spoke to herself. “That is what I want to understand – what I want to learn about India.”

“Why?”

The question was abrupt and she knew that the man asking it suspected her motives as being self-centred inquisitiveness.

“I think the answer to that,” she responded after a moment, “is that I feel I have so much to learn from India and there is so much it can give me.”

Again Ian Hadleigh was taken back.

As he was wondering what to say, Brucena went on,

“You said that everyone in India is different. That I can understand, where Caste is concerned, but surely all of them believe in one thing?”

“What is that?

“Their Karma. All the books I have read speak of ‘Karma’ as being all-pervading, all-embracing and something that almost every Indian adheres to not only with his mind but with his heart.”

Major Hadleigh contemplated this statement for some seconds.

Then he said,

“You are right, Miss Nairn, of course you me right. I am only surprised that you should come to that conclusion or that it has been put to you in such a simple form.”

“I read it, but I have a feeling that I have always known of it inside me, because it is what I believe myself.”

Chapter Two

There was a silence and Ian Hadleigh suddenly knew that he could not bear to spoil the idealism and the appreciation of India, that he knew this girl felt, by telling her of the sordid and disgusting details of Thuggee.

Because he was a little bewildered by the revelations that she had made about herself, he said in a voice that was harder than he had intended,

“I hope, Miss Nairn, that your ideas of India will not be spoilt by your stay in Saugor.”

“I am sure I will find it very interesting – whatever it is like,” Brucena parried, “but I am still waiting for you to tell me about the Thugs.”

“That is something I have no intention of doing and I think you will find that your cousins feel as I do, the less said the better!”

It might have been the way he spoke or perhaps that she was disappointed in not hearing what she wanted to know, but Brucena felt her temper rising.

Ever since she had met this man, she thought that he had been obstructive and difficult and she still felt that she should have saved the baby, which he had prevented her from doing by pushing her back into the railway carriage.

He was good-looking, she thought, if one admired that kind of very British appearance, but there was something hard and ruthless about him.

She almost felt sorry for the Thugs because he was one of the people hunting them down and bringing them to justice.

Aloud she declared,

“It is quite obvious, Major Hadleigh, that as far as you are concerned, I am not a welcome guest at Saugor.”

“You are not my guest,” he replied, “and it is for Captain Sleeman and his wife to welcome you.”

It struck Brucena that, if they took up the same attitude as the Major, she would have to find herself somewhere else to go and that might be very difficult.

She gazed out the window and knew, as the Indian landscape sped past, that she wanted with an almost passionate intensity to stay in India and discover the country of her birth and learn about its people.

How could she explain to the man sitting opposite her, who she felt was hostile, that India gave her a feeling that Scotland had never been able to do?

There was something warm about it, something that, as she travelled from Bombay, she had felt in the brightness of the day and the darkness of the night and she could not put into words.

‘It speaks to me,’ she thought to herself.

But already she was feeling that she had revealed too much of her inner feelings to Major Hadleighy and he would not understand.

They sat in silence and, because her face was turned away from him, he could see only her profile.

It was impossible not to admire her small straight nose, the soft curves of her lips and her firm little chin.

‘She should go back to England where she belongs,’ he thought savagely to himself.

Then he told himself that he was being unnecessarily alarmist,

She would be with the Sleemans and the restricted social life round Saugor would welcome her with open arms.

Like all other girls in India she would be invited to tennis parties and doubtless small dinners at which, if there were enough men in attendance, she could dance afterwards.

‘She cannot come to much harm if she sticks with that sort of thing,’ Ian Hadleigh ruminated.

But he had the uncomfortable idea that where Brucena was concerned that would not be enough.

“I expect,” he said reflectively after a moment, “that Captain Sleeman will be able to arrange for you to stay with his friends in other parts of India, where you will enjoy seeing far finer scenery and some magnificent Temples that we cannot provide you with in Saugor.”

“Are you still trying to be rid of me?” Brucena asked in an amused tone. “You seem to have forgotten, Major, that I am here to work.”

“As a Nanny?” he questioned. “I can hardly see you in that role.”

“Nevertheless it is the reason why I have come and I feel certain that I shall not find it hard to learn what is expected of me.”

As she spoke, she thought of what Amelie Sleeman had written in well-phrased French.

Brucena was to learn that, because her husband spoke such good French, Amelie had never become very proficient in English.

“I do not want a stiff and starchy stuck-up Nanny who would despise both me and my methods. I just want a Scottish or English girl who will help me to look after my baby and whom I can trust not to give him opium to keep him quiet or some other devil’s brew that the Ayahs use, if one is not watching them like a hawk.”

It had seemed a simple request at the time, but now Brucena wondered if perhaps Cousin Amelie was thinking of something far more sinister than a lazy Ayah who wanted to keep her child quiet.

The Thugs no doubt loathed Cousin William for the way that he was hounding them down and preventing them from following what to them was a Holy craft.

What would be a better revenge than to strangle his child or even to abduct it and bring it up in the cult that he was attempting to destroy?

In one book that Brucena had read she found that when the Thugs killed a party of travellers and destroyed all trace of them, they occasionally took away with them, besides anything valuable, any especially attractive child.

It was thought that they taught him to be a Thug or perhaps, far more frightening, sacrificed him to the Goddess Kali.

Brucena felt herself shiver at the thought of such a thing happening to Cousin Amelie’s baby and told herself that her imagination was running away with her.

Perhaps Thuggee was not half as bad as it was made out to be.

The mystery that Major Hadleigh was making about it only added to her feeling that it was a subject that she must know more about and not be kept, as he obviously wished, in happy ignorance of the truth.

‘It’s my bad luck,’ she thought, ‘to have found a man the very first moment I arrive in India who has no wish to please me and not only has to obstruct me in finding out what I wish to know but who would like to be rid of me altogether.’

She told herself that she would fight him with every weapon in her power.

She was certain that he would try to convince her cousin that not only was she unsuitable for the job she had come out to do, but that she might also be an added danger in a life that was dangerous enough as it was.

‘If Cousin Amelie can put up with it, I can!’ Brucena thought firmly.

At the same time she was apprehensive and, as the train chugged on towards Saugor, she found herself disliking the man sitting opposite her more and more.

*

C’est impossible! I cannot believe you are really here,” Amelie Sleeman enthused later that evening when they had dined by candlelight.

Punkahs moving overhead made the flames swing backwards and forwards as if they were on board ship.

Brucena smiled at her and then at her cousin.

“I was afraid that you would be angry with me for coming,” she replied.

“No, of course we are not,” Mrs. Sleeman answered in her attractive broken English, “but we never dreamed, mon mari et moi, when we received your telegram, that you were coming here yourself instead of sending a Scots girl.”

“They were all too frightened to travel to such a heathen land,” Brucena answered, “and quite frankly I was so glad to escape from The Castle as things have not been at all comfortable since Papa remarried.”

“That is exactly what I said to my husband,” Amelie Sleeman said almost with a note of triumph in her voice. “I said, ‘cette pauvre petite has had, I am quite certain, a difficult time with a belle mère who could never be as pretty as she is’!”

“Well, now you are here and that is all that matters,” William Sleeman said before Brucena could reply, “and I am glad for Amelie’s sake that she has a woman to keep her company. She finds it very lonely when I have to be away from home so much.”

“That is true,” Amelie nodded, “I should miss you desperately, mon cher, wherever we were, but it is somehow worse here when I cannot go anywhere without an escort of soldiers and I am sure Brucena will find that a bore too.”

“She will get used to it,” William Sleeman said with a smile, “and let me make this quite clear, Brucena, you are not to go outside the garden without letting the Sergeant in charge of the Sepoys know where you are going and, if it is out of sight of the house, he will send somebody with you.”

“There you are!” Amelie exclaimed with an expressive gesture of her hands. “It is just like being one of your prisoners and I sometimes feel c’est moi who is locked up and not they.”

“I think you would find the gaols at Jubbulpore and Saugor very different from the comfort you enjoy here,” William Sleeman commented drily, “and at least I don’t brand you, my dear!”

His wife laughed.

“I suppose I should be thankful for small mercies,” she exclaimed and then, seeing that Brucena did not understand, she explained,

“One of the punishments for a convicted Thug is that he is branded on his back and shoulders or even on his eyelids, which is something they dislike intensely.”

“I am not surprised,” Brucena piped up. “The punishment seems very extreme.”

“Nothing is too extreme for men who murder for pleasure,” William Sleeman said sharply.

There was silence for a moment.

Then Brucena said,

“When you have time, Cousin William, I would like you to tell me more about Thuggee. There is very little about it in any of the books on India and I understand that it is one of the most ancient secrets of the country.”

“That is true,” he agreed, “but I have no wish to talk about it in front of Amelie. In her condition she should not be worried either physically or mentally with subjects that are unpleasant.”

“Yes, of course, I do understand,” Brucena said quietly.

She had already learnt that Mrs. Sleeman was expecting her baby in the New Year and at seven months she already looked large and had lost the grace of movement that had been so characteristic of her.

She was the daughter of a sugar planter from Mauritius and it had seemed an unlikely marriage between two people of such diverse characters with twenty-one years between their ages. Yet one had only to see the Sleemans together to realise that they were extremely happy.

Because Frenchwomen are very adaptable, Amelie was in fact exactly the right wife for William Sleeman.

‘I shall be happy with them,’ Brucena told herself as she went to bed that night in the small room that was next to the already prepared nursery, which was where the Nanny would have been sleeping.

Outside she could hear the strange sounds of the hoot of an owl, the chirp of a cricket, the flutter of a bat’s wings, the barking of pariah dogs, the scuttle of some nocturnal animal in the shrubs and far away in the distance the sound that she knew was so characteristic of all India, the howl of a pack of jackals.

It was all very exciting, a new world, and yet an old one which she felt that she had sprung from and where her roots still lay.

‘I am so happy to be back here with you,’ she whispered in her heart.

*

It was three days later that Brucena realised that, while she had been ‘digging herself in’, as it were, she had not seen Major Hadleigh.

He had brought her to the large white bungalow on her arrival and handed her over with the air of a man who was not quite certain if he was producing a pleasant or an unpleasant surprise.

Brucena had been well aware that there was work for him to do, because, as they had arrived at Saugor Station, a Sergeant in charge of a detachment of Sepoys had been waiting to salute him smartly.

As she was annoyed with Major Hadleigh, she did not bother to explain to him that during the long weeks of travelling on board ship she had studied Urdu and after the first few days had found a teacher in the Second Class, who for a small sum of money had given her lessons.

The Purser who had arranged it had assured her that the man was well qualified for the job and Brucena had found him not only a proficient teacher but also an intelligent person.

At first she had concentrated fiercely on learning the language, determined that she would not arrive in India unable to speak anything but English.

As the weeks went by, she found to her delight that he could tell her a great deal about his country and the customs of his people.

He even tried to explain to her the Caste system and more important the religions, which varied from the Buddhists to the Hindus, from the Jains to the Moslems and hundreds of strange and varied sects, all of which had their rituals, their taboos and their sacred places somewhere in the vast Subcontinent.

Some instinct in Brucena warned her to keep silent on the subject of Thuggee and not to tell her teacher that she was to stay with their archenemy Captain William Sleeman.

She had a feeling that if he was aware of her destination he might not be so forthcoming in teaching her all that she wanted to know.

She could not quite explain why she felt this, but she had learnt for many years to trust her instinct, which at that moment told her to keep silent about herself.

Although she realised that there was a great deal more for her to learn where Indian languages were concerned, she understood, as the Sergeant met them on the Station platform, what Major Hadleigh said to him.

In a low voice that she was not expected to overhear, he asked in Urdu,

“Is there any trouble?”

“A little Major Sahib,” the Sergeant replied. “I think tonight we should visit – ”

Brucena did not catch the last word, but she understood the rest and was therefore slightly amused when, turning to her with a deceptive smile, Major Hadleigh said,

“I have told the Sergeant to procure a carriage for you and I will drive with you to your cousin’s bungalow. You will find it quite impressive to be escorted by a detachment of Cavalry.”

Brucena had certainly not been impressed by her first sight of the town of Saugor, except that anything to do with India had a beauty and enchantment that she had never seen anywhere else.

It was set on the shore of a large lake and at one side of it there appeared to be a huge, gloomy castellated Castle, which she learnt was the prison.

The Sleeman’s bungalow, which was outside the town, was large but simple and charming and the garden was filled with flowers whose colours made Brucena feel that they gave her a special welcome.

She knew at once that there was no fear of the Sleemans sending her back or not being genuinely glad to see her.

She felt in a way that the surprised but undeniable sincerity that Amelie kissed her with was really an impulsive snub to Major Hadleigh, although they had not met before.

‘He may not want me here,’ Brucena thought, ‘but my cousins do and that is the only thing that matters.’

Equally she enjoyed the feeling that she had scored off him and looked forward, with a feeling that she could not quite understand, to further wordy duels, which, however, were not forthcoming.

Because she was curious, she asked Mrs. Sleeman about Major Hadleigh.

“Why has he not been here?” she enquired. “He gave me the impression that he was Cousin William’s right hand man.”

“Oh, he is. That is certainly true,” Amelie replied, “and William is very pleased with him. He has captured far more Thugs than any of the other Officers who the Regiment sent him. In fact some of them are worse than useless.”

“I thought it was rather obvious that Major Hadleigh liked being an inquisitor,” Brucena said drily.

“He is very brave and, although none of my husband’s other assistants would admit it, I am quite sure that secretly they are frightened. Thugs are very dangerous and thank God there are fewer of them than there were.”

“Which is all due to Cousin William?” Brucena questioned.

“Yes, of course. He has been absolutely wonderful,” Amelie enthused. “His prime purpose in life is not only to destroy Thuggee but to discredit it.”

She gave a little sigh.

“William has always said that when men fight for the sake of a cause they are immeasurably stronger and more formidable than when they fight for personal satisfaction or duty.”

“I have often heard that,” Brucena nodded.

“It is true,” Amelie went on, “and he is beginning to convince the Thugs that our God is greater than their Goddess.”

“Can he really make them believe that?” Brucena asked with curiosity.

“He told me last week that a Thug said to him, ‘you say that your God is assisting you and that Kali has withdrawn her protection on account of our transgressions. We must have sadly neglected her worship’.”

Brucena, after this conversation, would have liked to talk more with Cousin William, but when he came home in the evening he was often dead tired.

She understood that it was because he had worked hard all day not only in hunting down the Thugs but in arguing with them, fighting them with words as well as with weapons and in the relaxation of his home he had no wish to talk about it any further.

Both she and Amelie had been forbidden to go near the town for the next few days and had been given no reason for the ban.

But by listening to what was said and by skilfully cross-examining the Sergeant of the Sepoys, who spoke good English, Brucena learnt that there had been trouble because six Thugs had been executed, one of them a local hero.

One of his adherents who could not at the moment be arrested on the charge of Thuggee had managed to stir up Indians of other Castes into protesting and making trouble.

It was always an easy task to arrange political unrest in India and only by very strong methods of repression had the riots been put down.

It had resulted, Brucena learnt, in the gloomy prison on the lake being filled to capacity and a great number of other prisoners being confined at Jubbulpore.

Just when she least expected it and when she was alone on the verandah, she heard the sound of horses in the compound and a moment later Major Hadleigh was beside her.

He looked hot and a little tired, but he greeted her politely and then asked,

“I understand that the Superintendent is not here. When are you expecting him back?”

“I have no idea,” Brucena replied. “In fact Amelie before she went to lie down was wondering why he had not told her when he expected to return.”

She saw the frown on Major Hadleigh’s forehead and asked,

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no, Of course not,” he lied so quickly that she knew he lied.

“Would you like a drink?” she asked.

“Thank you,” he answered.

She clapped her hands as she had been taught to do when she required a servant and when the Head Boy, who was getting on for sixty, appeared, Major Hadleigh asked for a glass of lime juice.

As he sat down on a chair beside Brucena, the frown vanished from his forehead as he enquired,

“How are you enjoying yourself? Has India disappointed you yet?”

“I find each day more exciting than the last,” Brucena answered. “But it is a pity that I am so restricted in what I can see and where I can go. But I am disappointed that your efforts at keeping the peace are not more successful.”

She meant to needle him and thought that he would protest at her insinuations.

Instead he merely laughed.

“I am sure you would be wise after your long journey to rest for a little more,” he suggested. “And let me tell you, things are almost back to normal. Soon you will be able to go anywhere you want.”

“With, of course, an escort,” Brucena finished.

“As you say, with an escort,” he agreed.

She looked towards the lake and then over the hard-baked earth that stretched away towards the horizon.

“Is this place really as dangerous as you try to make out?” she asked, “I have a feeling that you enjoy making my flesh creep by hinting at unknown horrors while refusing to name them specifically.”

“Surely, Miss Nairn, you are not interested in horrors? Besides at your age you should be thunking of very different things, romance being one of them.”

As he spoke, he looked down at the book that was beside her on the seat.

“I believe,” he commented, “that the current reading amongst the young ladies at Simla is Wuthering Heights. Is that what you have here?”

He picked up the book casually and then saw that it was written in Urdu.

“You can hardly tell me that this is of any interest to you.”

For some perverse reason that she could not really understand, Brucena decided not to tell him the truth.

“No, of course not. I think Cousin William must have left it here. There is, I regret to tell you, a shortage of books in this house.”

“I should be pleased to send to Jubbulpore for anything you require.”

“I would not like to put you to any trouble. Besides, if you did, you would have to come here again instead of ignoring me, as you obviously intended, since my arrival.”

“I see that you are looking on me as an enemy,” Ian Hadleigh remarked in an amused tone.

“Why not?” Brucena retorted. “You made your feelings very clear on the journey and there has been no enquiry as to my wellbeing since my arrival.”

He laughed.

“That was certainly very remiss of me, but you must accept my excuse that I have been extremely busy.”

“Chasing Thugs,” Brucena observed mischievously, “as if they were foxes to be hunted down by red-faced huntsmen and a pack of hounds?”

“Exactly. That is a very good simile. Unfortunately in this instance there were too many foxes and not enough hounds.”

Brucena was just thinking of something cutting to say when William Sleeman came striding onto the verandah.

“There you are,” he said. “I was told you were here. I have found out where that man has gone.”

You have, sir,” Ian Hadleigh exclaimed. “Where?”

“Need you ask?” William Sleeman replied “To Gwalior, of course.”

“I thought that might be where he would hide.”

“It is what we might have expected,” William Sleeman said bitterly. “The place has become a sanctuary for Thugs. A murderer can return there with as much safety as an Englishman to an inn.”

Brucena was listening wide-eyed.

She knew that Gwalior was a neighbouring Province and that an English Resident had been appointed by the Governor-General to advise the Maharajah there as in many other Courts of the independent ruling Princes.

“It is intolerable, but I am not certain what I can do about it,” William Sleeman was saying almost beneath his breath.

“There must be something,” Major Hadleigh insisted.

“I wish there were, but Mr. Cavendish opposed me resolutely ever since I came here and has made my work more difficult than it need have been.”

“It’s disgraceful!” Ian Hadleigh exclaimed.

“Are you saying that the Resident is an Englishman who actually approves of the Thugs?” Brucena asked.

Her voice seemed to startle the two men and she realised that they had completely forgotten her existence.

“He would not admit it,” William Sleeman answered after a moment’s pause, “but by blocking my investigations and disallowing my men into the Province of Gwalior, he has made the place an escape hole that any Thug can disappear into when he is hard pressed.”

“It seems an incredible situation,” Brucena chimed in, “when the Governor-General has appointed you to suppress the Thugs.”

“It is,” William Sleeman said, “but Gwalior or no Gwalior, I intend to destroy what is the most dreadful and most extraordinary Secret Society in the history of the human race.”

His voice had a dedicated note as he spoke and there was a look in his blue eyes which was that of a visionary.

*

Later that evening they sat round the dinner table and entertained not only Major Hadleigh but also half a dozen neighbours.

It seemed hard to believe, Brucena thought, that outside the civilised comfort of the room with the cheerful voices and the laughter of the guests rising on the warm heavy air, there were men waiting to murder innocent and unsuspecting travellers and to glory in their killing.

It was not a subject to be discussed at dinner, Brucena realised, so she listened to the local gossip and the stories of how tiresome and stupid the Indian servants often were.

She was shown some amusing little knick-knacks that had been purchased from the native bazaar besides some very lovely material that could be used as an English lady’s scarf just as well as an Indian sari.

It was all very feminine and frivolous, but she knew that the young men who were present looked at her with a glint in their eyes and the older ones teased William Sleeman for having produced such an attractive guest without warning them that she was a beauty.

It was all commonplace and uncomplicated and yet, when Brucena went to bed, she stood looking out into the night and felt that it was all part of the India that was an enigma, a mystery and at the same time an enchantment.

She had the feeling that the knowledge she craved and everything she wanted to know was out there but always just out of reach.

It was hidden behind thousands of years of tradition, behind a complexity of rituals and customs that the Europeans could never understand.

And behind all that was the secrecy so deeply ingrained in the minds and hearts of the Indians who would die rather than reveal what to them was sacred.

*

Brucena walked through the garden knowing, as she did so, that only constant watering almost every hour of the day could keep the small patches of grass from withering away in the heat and protect the flowers, planted painstakingly over the years by every occupant of the bungalow, from being lost in a jungle of weeds.

The wild flowers were beautiful, bougainvillaea swarmed in thick profusion over every wall and creepers of crimson and white blossoms wound their ways round the trunks of trees.

The gardeners fought an unending battle with the shrubs that encroached almost like an octopus on everything near them.

It was all inexpressibly lovely and Brucena felt as if she moved to hidden music that was part of the beauty of the Indian dawn.

Although it was nearing the end of October, it was still very hot in the middle of the day and William Sleeman had advised Brucena to rise as early as possible when the air was cool and the earth itself felt fresh.

Sometimes he would take her riding with him before breakfast, but this morning he had to go into the town and she decided to walk through the garden carrying a sunshade, which was as yet unopened, to protect her as the sun rose.

It was all so magical, she told herself, and she could never look at the flowers and the countryside without feeling that they had a special message for her that she could not yet fully comprehend..

She reached the end of the cultivated garden and stood looking over a hibiscus hedge to where a long dusty road ran over the sandy unwatered earth towards some trees in the distance.

She had a feeling that, if she walked along the road far enough, she would find what she was seeking and yet she was not certain what that was.

She stood looking at it, feeling that it was symbolic of something that she should understand, but for the moment its meaning escaped her.

Then she heard a sound and, looking to the right, saw a party of people camped in the shade of a few scraggy trees.

The bright saris of the women were vivid against the earth where nothing could grow until the rains came and, as they were packing up their belongings that they had obviously used during the night, she noticed that the bangles on their wrists flashed and glittered in the morning light.

They were beautiful women and they had a grace that was enviable, Brucena thought, and she knew that it was the years of carrying water vessels on their heads that made them walk as if they were Goddesses.

The men were tending some small spindle-legged horses and an ancient rather tired donkey.

There were quite a number of them and there were children too playing happily on the ground, one with a piece of wood and another with a coloured rag which he tried to make blow out in a non-existent breeze.

Ever since Brucena had arrived in India she had wished that she could draw or paint the beauty of the Indian children.

Never had she imagined that small human beings could be so exquisite in every way.

With their large eyes and their small faces they had a helpless appeal that tugged at her heart and invariably made her remember the baby that she had not been able to save from the rioters on the Station platform.

She was watching them when one little boy of perhaps five years old detached himself from the others and came towards her.

He was carrying a flower in his hand and, as he reached her, he held it up with a smile on his lips that made her long to catch him up in her arms.

She took the flower from him.

“Thank you,” she said in Urdu. “Thank you very much.”

She wondered if she had anything to give him in return and instinctively put her hand into the pocket that was inserted in the seam of her gown,

She thought vaguely that she might give him a handkerchief.

Then, as she felt something soft and silky, she realised that it was a ball of silk that she had picked up on the edge of the verandah as she had left the house.

It belonged to Amelie, who was embroidering a robe for her baby in pinks and blues.

“Pink and blue?” Brucena had questioned when she saw it.

“I don’t mind if it is a boy or a girl,” Amelie said, “and therefore I am placating the Gods and making them believe that I have no preference in the matter.”

Brucena laughed as she remarked,

“I am sure William wants a son. All men do.”

She could not help the slight bitterness in her voice as she spoke, remembering how she had suffered all her life because she was a girl instead of the boy her father had wanted so fervently.

“William says,” Amelie said softly, “that if it is a girl and it looks like me, he will be so thrilled to have another Frenchwoman to love that he will have no regrets.”

“I hope he is speaking the truth, but I am praying, dearest Cousin Amelie, that you will have a son as your first child.”

“I suppose, if I am honest, I would like a boy for William’s sake, but would be fun to have a daughter to talk to, as you and I talk together.”

“From all you have said,” Brucena declared with a smile, “it should be twins!”

“Of course,” Amelie agreed, “and the blue will be for the boy and the pink for the girl.”

She smiled and it seemed to light up her whole face.

“Whatever it is,” she said, “it will be mine. My very own and that is what will matter.”

Brucena drew the little ball of pink silk from her pocket.

She hoped Amelie had enough to finish the robe, but she could not resist the charm of the small boy who had handed her the flower.

She bent over and put the pink ball in his hand.

He looked incredulous until, as his small fingers closed over it, he made a little sound of delight.

Then he pressed it against his chest as if to assure himself that it was real and she really intended it for him.

“For you!” she said in Urdu. “For you to play with.”

He gave a cry that was one of rapture, then ran back to the other children, holding it high above his head and shouting,

“Mine! Mine! All mine!”

It was the sheer joy of possession, Brucena thought, and whether it was Amelie or the little boy, what everyone wanted was something that belonged to them exclusively.

‘I have nothing. Nothing that is really my own,’ she thought with a sudden excess of self-pity.

She looked at the road winging towards the horizon and told herself that she had something far more important than possessions.

The knowledge she found in everything new was more inspiring than a jewel and more valuable than any fortune,

‘That is mine,’ she said to herself defiantly, ‘and that is something that no one can take from me.’

*

William Sleeman came in to luncheon in a good humour.

“I thought that, as it grows cooler this afternoon,” he said to his wife, “you and Brucena might like to come with me for a drive.”

“William dearest, what a delightful idea,” his wife replied. “Are you telling me it is now safe?”

“I hope so,” her husband answered. “The last purge, which we brought off against tremendous odds, has proved so effective that I am certain that, if there are any Thugs left in this vicinity, they are moving out of it as quickly as their legs can carry them.”

Brucena listened attentively.

She had the feeling that, if she asked questions, Cousin William would change the subject.

“You will hardly believe it,” he said, “but a man we have been hunting for the last six months has proved to be an Intelligence Agent in the employment of the East India Company!”

“I can hardly believe it,” Amelie exclaimed.

“It is true and everyone who worked with him swore that they would trust him with their lives, which in fact was exactly what they were doing.”

“How is it possible that they can reach these important posts without anyone being suspicious?” she enquired.

“That is what I ask myself every time we turn over an administrative stone and find a Thug underneath it. Well, this man is now behind bars awaiting trial and I have a feeling that the fact that we have caught him will be an invaluable deterrent to those who thought him inviolate.”

Amelie sighed.

“I think what frightens me more than anything is that they believe that their magical powers will save them.”

They are beginning to understand that we are stronger than they are,” William Sleeman replied, “and not only by main force. As one man said to me, ‘at the sound of your drums, sorcerers, witches and demons take flight. How can Thuggee survive?’”

“How indeed?” Amelie agreed. “At the same time, darling, you must be very careful of yourself. If anything happened to you, the devils and demons would all be back in force.”

“Of course they would,” William Sleeman agreed.

“But so far, I believe, God has protected me because, as even the Thugs admit, I am doing His work rather than the Devil’s.”

Later, when the sun had lost a great deal of its strength and the day was beginning to grow cooler, they sat in an open carriage and drove along beside the lake.

Despite the fact that he had said it was safe to go without an escort, Brucena found that a number of Cavalrymen were riding with them and she came to the conclusion that it was part of the aura of his importance that Cousin William thought was essential to his job.

She was not prepared to quarrel with him about it because she was so excited to see the country

The little Shrines by the water, the women in their beautifully coloured saris walking with heavy loads on their heads, small boys driving water buffaloes, a flock of black and white goats – all were irresistibly attractive.

And the lake itself was a glory as the evening sun turned it to gold and children from the isolated villages plunged naked and jubilant into the cool water.

This, she thought, was the India she wanted to see and even the sight of the vultures flapping their huge wings, as they were disturbed from consuming a half-eaten carcass, did not dispel the feeling of magic.

They drove for several miles before William Sleeman ordered the carriage to return and now they took another route, moving through undulating countryside with more trees.

As if it was constantly in his thoughts, he pointed out rows of lime and peepal trees and said,

“Those are all places of abomination where wretched travellers, camping in the shadow of them for the night, have felt a Thug knee in the small of their backs, a Thug breathing behind their heads and the silken cord pulled tight around their necks.”

Amelie gave a little cry.

“William, you are frightening me!”

He reached out his hand and took hers.

“I am sorry, my dear, I did not mean to. In fact I was actually thinking aloud.”

It was what Brucena thought that he was doing and she was exceedingly interested in what he had said.

She had learnt that a place of strangulation was called a bele that a pola was a secret sign left by one Thug for another and a kburak was the noise made by a pickaxe digging a grave.

Gradually she was compiling a glossary of her own on everything that concerned Thuggee.

She had already learnt, both from Major Hadleigh and her cousin, that it was a mistake to ask openly for information, it was far better to listen.

They drove on and now they could see the town of Saugor in the distance.

There were people coming out from the town and Brucena looked at them with interest as they were returning home with empty baskets, which had doubtless held vegetables that they had sold in the market.

Then she noticed, before they reached them, two distinguished-looking men wearing turbans and white-sashed dhotis over pantaloons and sandals with curled toes.

They looked more prosperous and certainly better dressed than any other Indians they had passed and she wondered if they were strangers to this area. perhaps travellers.

She was just about to ask Cousin William what he thought, when she noticed that between the two men was a small boy. Even as she looked at him she knew that she had seen him before, although most Indian children looked very much alike.

But this boy was different and she was certain that he was the little boy who she had given the pink ball of silk to early in the morning in exchange for his flower.

The carriage drew nearer and the men stepped off the road to let it pass.

She then saw that the child with the little face and big eyes whom she had admired and who had smiled at her so beguilingly was crying.

Tears were running down his cheeks and yet he was making no sound, only crying in dumb misery.

It was the same small boy – she was sure of it.

Then, as one man who was holding him by the hand, released him to put his palms together in the ancient gesture of namaste to salute the English Sahib, she saw that the child still held tightly in his hand the ball of pink embroidery silk that she had given him that morning.

Chapter Three

Brucena held her breath.

For a moment it seemed as if a thousand questions flashed into her mind.

Then, as she knew what she feared, she was aware that she must not speak of it in front of Amelie.

Already she had said that she was frightened and Brucena had known ever since she arrived in Saugor that William Sleeman deliberately avoided talking about the Thugs in front of his wife.

It was not only because she was pregnant but also because, like most Englishmen, he believed that ladies should be protected and cosseted against anything that was unpleasant or violent.

There was a chivalry about him that she knew was part of his Cornish ancestry and she remembered that her Cornish grandfather, whom she had loved, had had the same principles.

She therefore bit back the suspicions that came to her mind and told herself that she was being over-imaginative.

Cousin William has said that after their last purge all the Thugs had left the vicinity and yet the riots she had seen on her arrival, because six Thugs were to be hanged, had shown her that a great number of people in Saugor sympathised with them or else were too frightened to take up any other attitude.

A moment later they passed what was obviously the rest of the group connected with the two distinguished-looking men who were escorting the little boy.

There were a number of heavily laden packhorses led by men with beards and turbans, all of whom looked prosperous and well-clothed.

There were no women in the party and Brucena wondered what had happened to those she had seen that morning in their brilliant saris and the children who had been playing with the little boy who gave her the flower.

In a voice that somehow trembled despite herself, she asked,

“Where are these people – coming from?”

“There has been a big market in Saugor today,” William Sleeman replied. “Farmers from all over the Province have brought in their vegetables and fruit for sale and their womenfolk have come with them to buy pretty saris and more jewellery to hang in their noses and round their arms.”

It was an explanation that did not answer the questions that Brucena longed to ask.

If there were so many travellers, would there not be Thugs too who preyed on them?

Thugs who would await their opportunity under the lime trees that they were now passing through, then swiftly and silently commit their terrible crimes to add everything that the victim had bought to the spoils that they already possessed from other murders.

‘It could not happen here and in broad daylight,’ she thought to herself.

Yet the face of the little boy with the tears running down his cheeks filled her thoughts to the exclusion of all else.

They drove on and, while Amelie chatted away, Brucena was silent.

She was wondering what Cousin William would say when she told him what she suspected and she felt a little apprehensive in case he should laugh her to scorn and tell her to forget the Thugs and just enjoy herself as any ordinary English girl would do in her place.

But she knew she would feel that she had betrayed the child who had given her the flower if she did not ask her cousin to investigate.

She thought to herself that the men and their packhorses would not get so far that the mounted Sepoys could not catch up with them.

The carriage reached the bungalow and, as they drove through the banks of flowering shrubs up to the front door, Brucena saw Major Hadleigh waiting for them on the steps of the verandah.

As soon as the horses drew to a standstill, he hurried down to lean over the door of the carriage and say,

“Lord Rawthorne has called, sir, with a letter from the Resident of Gwalior.”

“Now why should Mr. Cavendish be writing to you, William?” Amelie asked, before he could speak, “and if he has, I am sure it is only to be disagreeable.”

“I think we can be certain of that,” William Sleeman said with a smile. “But who is Lord Rawthorne?”

“As far as I can ascertain,” Ian Hadleigh replied, “he is making a tour of India and is staying with the Resident at the moment with letters of introduction from the Governor-General.”

“We must certainly make ourselves pleasant to him,” Captain Sleeman remarked.

“He arrived rather late, as he had been delayed on the journey,” Ian Hadleigh went on. “I have therefore, in your absence, sir, suggested that you and Mrs. Sleeman would be delighted if he would stay the night.”

“Quite right! Quite right!” William Sleeman approved.

“I have sent his escort to the Barracks, while he and his personal servants will stay in the house.

William Sleeman nodded his agreement as he stepped out of the carriage and Major Hadleigh then helped Amelie to alight.

There was no need for him to help Brucena.

She was on the ground before he could put out his hand towards her and she wondered for a moment if she should tell him of her suspicions.

Then she told herself that he would quite certainly disparage anything she might say and also tell her, as he had already done, that she should not concern herself with Thuggee.

She therefore followed Amelie into the sitting room, where she found a tall dark man of about thirty-six in conversation with Cousin William.

“I am sorry I was not here when you arrived,” Captain Sleeman was saying as they entered the room. “I cannot understand why Mr. Cavendish did not let me know of your arrival so that we could have made preparations to entertain you.”

“I did not wish to put you to any trouble,” Lord Rawthorne replied. “I intended to be here far earlier and, having made your acquaintance, to push on to Bhopal, where I have some friends. But by the time I arrived it was too late to proceed further.”

“We are delighted that you can stay with us,” William Sleeman said. “And now may I present you to my wife.”

Amelie curtseyed as Lord Rawthorne bowed.

“And my cousin who has recently arrived in India from England,” Captain Sleeman went on, “Miss Brucena Nairn.”

As he looked at Brucena, Lord Rawthorne almost visibly started.

There was no doubt of the look of admiration that came into his eyes as he appraised her, Brucena thought, very much as a man might appraise a good horse.

There was something about him that she did not like. She thought it was perhaps his arrogance and his very obvious appreciation of his own consequence.

“You are just out from England as I am,” he began. “So we have, Miss Nairn, something in common. What do you think of this strange, wild unusual country?”

“I find it fascinating.”

“I too find many fascinating things here,” Lord Rawthorne replied and there was no doubt that he meant it as a compliment.

Later that evening as they sat at dinner and Major Hadleigh had joined them, Brucena thought that there was nothing wild about the scene and, except for the Indian servants, they might have been dining conventionally in any country in the world.

Cousin Amelie and she in their best evening gowns, Cousin William in his gold-braided tunic and Major Hadleigh in the red and blue evening dress of the Bengal Lancers made the small party colourful and very formal.

Lord Rawthorne would have looked somewhat drab in contrast if he had not decorated his stiff shirtfront with a large emerald stud that flashed in the light of the candles.

It was such a beautiful stone that Brucena could not keep her eyes from turning towards it and, as if he realised what she was looking at, Lord Rawthorne said,

“I think, Miss Nairn, you are admiring my latest acquisition since I reached India. I wanted to buy it from the Maharajah of Gwalior, but he insisted on making me a present of it. I have been searching ever since to find something to give him in return.”

William Sleeman stiffened as his guest spoke.

Then he said slowly, as if he was choosing his words with care,

“I think, my Lord, you would be wise to be careful of accepting gifts from the young Maharajah.”

“What do you mean by that?” Lord Rawthorne enquired.

“Only that he has been rather tiresome since he became old enough to take certain things into his own hands. When I spoke to the Governor-General about him a short while ago, he made it clear that we should be particularly careful of ‘Greeks when they come bearing gifts’.”

Captain Sleeman spoke in a way that made it impossible to take offence at his words.

But there was a little frown between Lord Rawthorne’s eyes as he said,

“I understand quite well what you are saying to me, Sleeman. At the same time the British Resident says that there has been a great deal of unfair gossip about the Maharajah and he suggested that the British have in many ways treated him unjustly.”

Brucena knew that it was with effort that Cousin William bit back the words that came to his lips.

There was a great deal that he could say about the behaviour of the young Maharajah, but he knew that it would doubtless be repeated to the British Resident and would only make trouble.

The old Maharajah had died six years ago, leaving his widow, Baza Bae, but no legitimate heir and after much consultation she adopted as an heir a relative of her late husband’s.

This boy was given the title of Maharajah and grew up at the Court, but soon he showed himself to be a morose, ill-conditioned young devil.

The Gwalior Army had always been turbulent, rebellious and addicted to plunder and menaced the State and the safety of its neighbours.

The Prince encouraged all the wildest malcontents and strangely enough the British Resident seemed content to let the young Prince do what he liked.

It was the Maharajah and the worst of his soldiers who encouraged the Thugs and the British Resident took the attitude that Captain Sleeman’s reports of their activities were exaggerated.

He said to all who would listen that he was quite certain that many of the hangings and the imprisonments imposed on the men who were caught were a miscarriage of justice.

What is more he refused to allow William Sleeman to pursue or capture any Thug on Gwalior territory.

It was a very difficult situation for Captain Sleeman and, although he had the full authority of the Governor-General to put down Thuggee and repress it in every way he could, the proximity of Gwalior made his task more arduous.

He had said so often,

“The Province is a Sanctuary for the men I pursue.”

Now that she had heard the origin of the emerald in Lord Rawthorne’s shirt-front, it struck Brucena that it was no longer attractive and had an almost evil glint in it.

Because the subject had been dropped, William Sleeman turned to speak to lain Hadleigh on some other matter and, in a voice that only Brucena was meant to hear, Lord Rawthorne said,

“Emeralds would become you, Miss Nairn. I would like to see them against your white skin.”

She considered his remark to be impertinent and raised her chin a little as she replied in a cold voice,

“What other parts of India are you visiting, Lord Rawthorne?”

He realised why she had changed the subject and replied with an annoying twinkle in his eye,

“I am a wanderer without direction or much purpose, Miss Nairn, and I intend to stay and enjoy myself wherever my mood takes me.”

Brucena did not reply and then Amelie stated,

“You must see the Taj Mahal, Lord Rawthorne. It is one of the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen in my life and my husband feels the same. My father always said that it was one of the great wonders of the world.”

“You must forgive me,” Lord Rawthorne said, “if I ask the name of your father. I find it rather surprising to find a Frenchwoman here in the centre of India.”

“My father belonged to the ancient family of the Comtes Blondin de Chalain,” Amelie replied, “and he, Comte Auguste Blondin de Chalain, who settled in the Ile de France, what you call ‘Mauritius’, sent me to India because he thought that there might be opportunities here to improve his fortune.”

Brucena realised that Lord Rawthorne was not only interested in what Amelie was telling him but also impressed that she came from a noble French family.

She despised him because his attitude became a little more respectful, as Amelie went on to say that she had only been nineteen when she came to India in 1828 to stay with an English family in Jubbulpore.

It was there that she had met William Sleeman and, much to the annoyance of a large number of young very eligible Army officers in the district, had fallen head-over-heels in love with the forty-year-old Political Officer and married him.

It was certainly not surprising that he had fallen in love with her for Amelie de Chalain was tall and had very fair skin and dark brown hair. She had a natural vivacity, a quick intelligence and a charm that had almost every man she met at her feet. At the moment, however, she was not looking her best and it was obvious as the evening progressed that Lord Rawthorne had eyes only for Brucena.

He sat himself down beside her when the gentlemen joined the ladies and paid her compliments that did not make her blush but which she disregarded as somewhat impertinent.

She had the feeling that he expected her to be bowled over by his attentions and the fact that she found him so unattractive made her astonished when she heard William Sleeman say to his wife,

“I have had a letter, my dear, from Mr. Cavendish, which makes it imperative that I should see him sooner rather than later and Lord Rawthorne has put forward an idea that I hope you will agree to.”

“What is that?” Amelie asked.

“His Lordship is very anxious that we should all attend some sports which have been arranged for his amusement while he is in Gwalior. I thought it might amuse you and, of course, Brucena, if we all journeyed to Gwalior and stayed with his Lordship in the Guesthouse which he tells me has been put at his disposal.”

Mrs. Sleeman was obviously astonished at her husband’s suggestion, knowing what he thought of Gwalior and in particular of the behaviour of the British Resident.

But she was quick-witted enough to realise that he must have an ulterior motive in agreeing to Lord Rawthorne’s invitation and with only the faintest pause she replied with a smile,

“It sounds delightful and I am sure that it will be nice for Brucena, who has had rather a dull time since she came to stay with us.”

“We must certainly change that,” Lord Rawthorne said somewhat heavily. “I will speak to the Maharajah, who seems a most accommodating young man, and arrange for you to see native dancing and all sorts of other things that I have already found the Court of Gwalior excels in.”

Because she knew that it was expected of her, Brucena said,

“It certainly sounds most interesting.”

“It will be, I promise you.”

Again in a voice that he intended only for her ears, Lord Rawthorne added,

“I shall do everything personally to make the entertainment especially delightful for you.”

She was not surprised that, when it was time to say ‘goodbye’, Lord Rawthorne held her hand far longer than was necessary and looked into her eyes in a manner that she found particularly embarrassing because she was sure that Major Hadleigh had noticed it

Only when Lord Rawthorne had gone to his own room, escorted by Major Hadleigh, and Brucena was alone with her cousins did she ask in a voice that was almost a whisper,

“Why do you want to go to Gwalior, Cousin William? I thought you disapproved of the Maharajah.”

“You took my breath away,” Amelie said, before her husband could reply. “For a moment I thought you must be joking”

“It’s an opportunity I have wanted for some time,” Captain Sleeman replied. “Always before, when I have entered Gwalior it has been officially in my position as Superintendent for the Suppression of Thuggee. If I go there as the guest of a noble Lord, I may deceive a number of people into being off their guard,”

“That is what your reason must be,” his wife reacted. “But, William, is it safe? Supposing – ”

“If it is going to worry you,” William Sleeman said quickly, “then we will stay at home.”

“No, of course not,” Amelie replied. “I am not as foolish as that. It is just that we have heard such terrible reports of the Maharajah’s behaviour, young though he is, and I believe the way that he treats his benefactor, Baza Bae, defies description.”

“How can he be so ungrateful after she chose him?” Brucena asked.

“He is a horrible young man. One of my friends was telling me only the other day how abominably rude he is to the poor woman and that in fact she is frightened because her very life depends on his whim.”

William Sleeman’s lips tightened and Brucena knew he was thinking that the British Resident should take a firm hand in the matter, but, as there was no point in saying so, they said ‘goodnight’ and went to their bedrooms.

*

Brucena was up early. She always was.

Almost irresistibly, because she hoped against hope that she had been mistaken about the little boy who had haunted her dreams all night, she walked to the end of the garden where she had seen him the morning before.

She looked over the low hibiscus hedge, wondering if the travellers who had been camped there twenty-four hours earlier would be there again.

But the place was empty and there were only the marks left on the sandy ground where the children had played.

She turned away, sick at heart, feeling that if she told Cousin William of her fears about the child, it would be too late now to save him.

The party of Thugs, if that was what they were, had disappeared and might be anywhere in the Province or perhaps were on their way to Gwalior where they would be safe.

‘I should have spoken at once,’ she told herself.

But it had been difficult if not impossible when they had arrived home, because of Lord Rawthorne’s presence and then darkness had fallen and it would have been impossible to find any particular party of travellers when there must have been so many leaving the town after the market had closed.

She was just about to walk back to the bungalow when she saw a tall figure coming through the flower-filled garden and knew that it was Lord Rawthorne.

“A servant told me that I would find you here,” he started. “I was hoping I could persuade you to ride with me this morning.”

“I thought you were leaving early,” Brucena replied.

“I am in no hurry to do so now that I have met you.”

Brucena turned her head aside and he exclaimed,

“You are beautiful! I suppose many men have told you that. I find you the most beautiful girl I have seen since I left England.”

“You cannot have looked closely at India or its people,” Brucena pointed out. I find it, although I have seen very little of it as yet – the most beautiful place I have ever seen and the Indian women are like dream-Princesses.”

“That is exactly what you are,” Lord Rawthorne answered in a low voice, “a dream-Princess that I have seen only in my dreams. But now you are real and I have found you.”

“You should not be speaking to me like this,” Brucena retorted, beginning to go back along the path towards the bungalow.

“Who will prevent me?” he enquired. “You will learn, as you get to know me better, that I always say what I think.”

“Perhaps some thoughts are best kept to one’s self.”

He laughed.

“Nonsense. All women like compliments and what I am saying is only the truth and therefore I am quite certain that it is very much more acceptable.”

He was so conceited, Brucena thought, that she wished she was clever and witty enough to make him look foolish.

But she could not find the right words and could only walk more swiftly aware that because he was so tall he towered above her and feeling inadequate to cope with a man who wasted no time on the preliminaries of courtship, if that was what this was.

As if he knew what she was thinking, Lord Rawthorne stopped suddenly and put out his hand to take her by the wrist and prevent her from going any farther.

“Look at me!” he demanded.

Because she was so surprised at his behaviour, she did what he asked.

“I have thought about you all night,” he carried on. “I think you have bewitched me! I find you entrancing and irresistible.”

He spoke with surprising violence and Brucena would have moved away if he had not been holding on to her wrist.

“I am afraid, Lord Rawthorne,” she said in what she hoped was an icy voice, “I am Scottish enough not to rush impetuously into friendships, but prefer to take my time to get to know people.”

“You know it is not friendship I am offering you,” Lord Rawthorne replied, “but if it pleases you, I will play your game for a little while. There is something about you that goes to a man’s head and, combined with this climate, I find it very intoxicating.”

“Kindly allow me to go back to the house,” Brucena insisted as calmly as she could.

She struggled to release her wrist, but he held her tightly and she had the frightened feeling that he was about to put his other arm round her when to her relief she saw someone coming towards them and only as she was freed was she aware that it was Major Hadleigh.

She turned to face him and he said in a voice that she thought uncomfortably had a note of rebuke in it,

“Your cousin is looking for you, Miss Nairn. You will find him in the breakfast room.”

“Thank you, Major Hadleigh,” Brucena replied.

As she spoke, she looked at him and saw an expression in his eyes that made her angry.

He was obviously condemning and despising her and she told herself that he had absolutely no right to look at her in such a way nor to think that she was in any way to blame for the position that he had found her in.

Because she was so angry, she ran away from the two men and hurried towards the house, hoping that they would think it was because she did not wish to keep her cousin waiting but knowing that she was really running from an awkward situation.

It did not in any way assuage her feelings when she discovered that Cousin William was not actually in the breakfast room and had not sent for her.

Lord Rawthorne stayed the whole of that day and, although Brucena was obliged to speak to him at meals, she managed to keep out of his way at other times.

She knew that she had no wish to come into contact with him again and so she said to Amelie,

“I suppose we must go to Gwalior? I am quite happy here and I feel, from all I have heard, that it will be a horrid place.”

“You will enjoy it,” Amelie replied, “and William’s troubles and difficulties need not worry you. If his Lordship is to be believed, there will be sports and native dancing. You will enjoy every moment of it.”

“I suppose so,” Brucena agreed reluctantly.

“But you will,” Amelie insisted. “The first Festival that I attended when I was at Jubbulpore was the most exciting experience I had ever imagined. It was so beautiful and everyone wore fantastic jewels, even the elephants!”

She laughed as she added,

“My two little rows of pearls seemed very insignificant when compared with the Maharajah’s, who has ropes and ropes of them and, of course, necklaces of every other precious stone”

“I have read stories about the Indian jewels,” Brucena said, “but some of them are unlucky and that is what I felt last night about Lord Rawthorne’s emerald.”

As she spoke, she wondered if that was the truth.

Perhaps it was because she disliked him that she had felt that the emerald was evil.

Then she told herself that jewels did possess strange powers and she was quite certain that she would never wish to own the emerald that Lord Rawthorne was wearing or any other jewels that had ever belonged to the shady Maharajah.

“Whatever our feelings may be when we are in Gwalior, even if we are shocked by what we see or affronted by what we hear, we must hide them under a veneer of politeness,” Amelie suggested.

She smiled as she added,

“The only thing I want to do is to help William. You can have no idea how he has dedicated himself body and soul to this crusade of repressing Thuggee and so far he has been so successful that everyone is amazed at his achievements.”

“I am sure they are,” Brucena smiled, “and I am certain that he will end up being Knighted for having killed the dragon and you will be ‘my Lady’ and have a fine tiara to wear when you return to England.”

Amelie laughed and Brucena felt that deep in her shrewd and sensible little French heart was the ambition that one day her husband would be suitably rewarded for his endeavours and the resolve to work in every possible way towards his goal.

It was with relief that Brucena learnt that Lord Rawthorne intended to leave early in the afternoon so as to start his long journey back to Gwalior.

“There is no hurry,” he had said when William Sleeman suggested that he should leave before luncheon. “I can travel very swiftly on horseback, which is why I have refused the offer of a carriage for my tour.”

“Even with horses you should not wish to travel after dark,” William Sleeman warned him.

Lord Rawthorne laughed somewhat derisively.

“Still worrying about the Thugs, William? It is so unlikely that they will slip a yellow scarf around my throat.”

“It is always wise to be forearmed.”

“I have been,” Lord Rawthorne laughed, “and if I listened to you I should suspect every shadow behind every tree and imagine that there is a Thug waiting to get me! Personally I only see those sort of things after a very thick night!”

He laughed again uproariously and Brucena wished that she could throw something at him.

But William Sleeman was apparently quite unperturbed.

“We will look forward to joining your Lordship in three weeks’ time.”

“I have changed my mind,” Lord Rawthorne said. “I cannot wait so long. I will get back tonight and shall spend tomorrow making all the preparations for your entertainment that have not been made already and I shall expect you in eight days. I shall be counting every hour eagerly until you appear.”

He was speaking to William Sleeman, but he was looking at Brucena and she was angry because she felt herself begin to blush.

He was making his feelings for her far too obvious and while Cousin William apparently did not notice it, she was sure that Major Hadleigh did.

Because she felt angry, she walked out through the open window onto the verandah and moved along it a little way to stand gazing at the flowers in the garden.

It was very hot but she found surprisingly that she liked the heat and did not find it oppressive as a great number of other English people did.

She knew, because it was getting so late in the year, that it was now possible to move about even at midday and in the early afternoon, but otherwise the British usually rose very early and slept after luncheon like all the Indians.

From where she stood she could see what appeared to be rolled up bundles in the shelter of the shrubs and at the foot of the trees, but it was the gardeners having their siesta.

This would last for at least two hours and she knew that the rest of the servants in other parts of the bungalow were doing the same.

She heard footsteps and turned to find Lord Rawthorne advancing towards her.

“I came to say ‘goodbye’,” he said, “but it is in fact au revoir.”

“Goodbye, my Lord.”

“You know how much I want to see you again,” Lord Rawthorne said, covering her right hand with both of his. I have a great deal to say to you and a great deal I want you to say to me. It will be easier in Gwalior, I will see to that.”

Brucena hoped that he would do nothing of the sort, but she could not say so.

He looked at her for a long moment and then before she could prevent it he raised her hand to his lips.

She felt his mouth on her skin and knew that for some reason that she could not explain to herself it made her shiver.

Then with relief she heard her cousin come out onto the verandah and she was free.

As Lord Rawthorne rode off with the soldiers of the Gwalior Cavalry behind him, she felt an inexpressible relief that he had gone.

“Can his Lordship really like the Maharajah and what he has found in Gwalior?” she heard Major Hadleigh ask.

“He has reasons for his preferences,” William Sleeman answered, “and, as far as I am concerned, he has given me an opportunity I have waited for for some time and I am not prepared to quarrel with him.”

“No, of course not,” Ian Hadleigh agreed. “At the same time I find him insupportable.”

‘So do I,’ Brucena wanted to add.

Then she remembered the suspicion that she had seen in Major Hadleigh’s eyes and felt angrily that she would not stoop to explain herself.

‘Let him think what he likes,’ she thought. ‘He is in his own way almost as unpleasant as Lord Rawthorne.’

She started to walk along the verandah towards the open window.

“Where are you going?” William Sleeman asked.

“To pack my prettiest gowns to dazzle Gwalior,” Brucena answered, “and, of course, the charming Lord Rawthorne!”

She was speaking sarcastically, but it pleased her to see the sudden anger flash in Major Hadleigh’s eyes and to notice the definite scowl on his face.

‘Does he really think that she is infatuated with that conceited popinjay?’ she asked herself. ‘And if he does, how could he be so stupid?’

There really was quite a lot of packing to do and the maidservants in the bungalow were kept busy pressing Amelie’s and Brucena’s gowns.

Not for one moment had Brucena regretted the money from her precious store that she had expended on new gowns

She had read enough about India before she had left England to realise that because of the heat one had to change frequently and she was glad that she had enough gowns at least for the next few months.

Nevertheless, she was very touched and extremely grateful when Amelie gave her some of her own clothes that she could no longer wear.

“You will want them again,” Brucena protested. “I cannot take them.”

Amelie smiled.

“I will let you in on a secret. My father spoils me and through me he has made a great deal of money while William has received a great deal of credit.”

Brucena looked curious and she explained,

“The reason I came to India was that my father wanted me to spy out the land for him and report to him what I thought of the sugar cane that a certain Captain William Sleeman had imported from Tahiti.”

She gave a little laugh.

“Poor William did not know then that the best sugar canes come from Mauritius.”

She smiled as she went on,

“I had quite a job convincing him that our canes were far superior to his, but he asked me to bring him some and my father sent him the seeds.”

She saw Brucena’s interest and went on,

“I don’t have to tell you the end of the story. The Mauritius sugar cane flourished, William was complimented by the Government for all he has done for agriculture and Papa made a pile of money in the process!”

Brucena clapped her hands together.

“What a lovely story and all the more exciting because it’s true.”

“It was not only the sugar cane that interested him,” Amelie said with a soft note in her voice “From the moment I saw him with his blue eyes and his clever forehead, I felt at once that he was the man I had been looking for all my life.”

“Did you really fall in love the moment you saw him?” Brucena asked.

“Not at the first moment,” Amelie admitted truthfully, “but after we had talked together and I realised how different he was from all the young men who had paid me compliments and only wanted to dance, I knew that he was the only man I had ever wanted to marry.”

“He was very much older than you,” Brucena enquired.

“Yes,” Amelie agreed. “I was nineteen while he was forty and a confirmed bachelor. But love has nothing to do with age. Love is irresistible and when you find it, my dear, you will understand what I mean.”

Brucena gave a little sigh.

“I do hope so, but sometimes I feel I shall never fall in love.”

Amelie gave a wise little laugh.

“You will. Suddenly your heart turns upside down, the air is full of music and indeed, once you have found the man who previously was only part of your dreams, the world is never the same again.”

“I hope I will be as lucky as you,” Brucena sighed.

She did not sound very optimistic.

She had the feeling as she spoke that her heart was rather different from Cousin Amelie’s, much more practical and down to earth and, where the French would find romance wherever they looked, she was made of sterner stuff.

‘I wish I was not,’ she thought. ‘I want to fall in love. I want to be married and happy as Amelie is with Cousin William.’

Then she thought of Lord Rawthorne and she shivered.

If that was the type of man who was going to ask her to marry him, then she would rather remain an old maid all her life!

She told herself that when she reached Gwalior she would have to be careful, very careful not to be alone with him, and the one thing she wanted to avoid above all else was for him to touch her again.

She had washed her hand a number of times since he had kissed it and yet very annoyingly she could still feel his lips, hot, possessive and demanding on her skin.

When she went to bed that night, Brucena looked out into the darkness.

The stars were brilliant overhead and there was the fragrance of the flowers and the scent of wood smoke.

It was a night made for romance, the whisperings of lovers, the songs sung passionately beside the shimmering water of the lake, a note passed from hand to hand and from lips to lips.

Yet Brucena was not thinking about love, but of the little boy, the child with a tear-streaked face holding tightly in his hand a ball of pure silk.

Where was he now? Where had he been taken?

Was he being initiated into the terrible cult of the Goddess of darkness – Kali?

She suddenly felt as if the horror and terror of the murderers were encroaching on her and she could not escape from them.

It was one thing to read about the Thugs and even to think about them, but another to feel that they were moving out there in the darkness, intent on enjoying their lust to kill as an Englishman might enjoy the pleasure of big game hunting.

The only difference was that they were dedicated with their whole life given to their foul murderous religion.

It suddenly seemed to Brucena as if the very anonymity of it was so horrifying because one had no idea where to look for a Thug and no means of identifying him.

They were in the darkness, waiting, their thirst for blood yearning to be appeased, their whole purpose to kill and go on killing secretly and in most cases without fear of identification or capture.

‘How can one man like Cousin William, who had first revealed the whole horror of Thuggee and now continued to fight it almost single-handed ever win?’ she asked herself.

Whatever the rights or wrongs, he was pitting his strength single-handed against something that had existed for centuries and that was deeply ingrained in generations of Thugs.

‘It’s useless! It’s a hopeless cause!’ Brucena cried outin her mind.

Then she saw again the little boy’s face with tears running down his cheeks and Cousin William with his steady blue eyes lit with the zeal of a visionary swearing that he would stamp out ‘this abomination’ now and forever.

Chapter Four

William Sleeman was determined that his wife should travel slowly and that the journey to Gwalior would be a pleasant one.

Ordinarily he would have taken the journey himself without undue hurry in five days, but with Amelie and Brucena with him he was determined that they should enjoy the countryside and he would also take the opportunity of inspecting various of his own territories on the way.

He was amused by Lord Rawthorne’s insistence that they arrive as soon as possible and he was not so obtuse as not to realise that the reason was a desire to see Brucena rather than to entertain them with the festivities he was arranging in their honour.

However he considered his own interests more important.

He therefore sent a number of messengers ahead to arrange for him to see the Officials in the territories that he would be passing through and also instructed them to make sure that the accommodation that they were to stay in was the best available.

Brucena was impressed by the precise and methodical way that Cousin William had planned the journey.

They set out very early three days later, travelling in what she appreciated was a particularly smart turnout with four fine bays pulling their carriage, which she knew had cost a large amount of money.

They were escorted as usual by Sepoys and Cavalrymen and, when she exclaimed at how Royal the entourage looked, Cousin William had laughed,

“If we had not had to get there so quickly” he had said, “we should have done it in real style, as I intend to travel next year when I carry out inspections.”

“Will you look more important than you do at the moment?” Brucena had asked him.

“Certainly,” he had said, “because then I shall be preceded by an elephant and carried in a palanquin!”

He smiled as if he mocked himself as he had added,

“In my be-feathered cocked hat I really inspire respect and admiration even from the Thugs!”

Brucena regretted the absence of the elephant, but she enjoyed the excitement that their horses and carriage caused wherever they appeared.

She soon learnt that Cousin William was not only respected but trusted, one might even say loved, by the people in his Province.

Many of them already realised the relief they enjoyed from the oppressive menace of the Thugs. They could travel more safely and were not blackmailed into silence as undoubtedly they had been in the past.

When Brucena said this to Cousin William when they were alone, he shook his head.

“There is still a great deal more to be done and I am not really happy in knowing that, if I drive them out of this Province, they will merely menace the people in other parts of India.”

She knew as they journeyed on that he was thinking all the time of how difficult Gwalior was making his work by allowing the Thugs to take refuge there.

He had already, although she was not aware of it, confided to Ian Hadleigh that it would be of tremendous help if the visit gave then an inkling as to which of their wanted men were seen in Gwalior.

“Do you really think they will show themselves?” Major Hadleigh asked,

“Remember, a lot of them have no idea that we are even aware of their existence. But you and I have our secret list of names. I am certain that a great number of those on it think of themselves as anonymous.”

“That is true,” Ian Hadleigh agreed, “and we must certainly keep our eyes open.”

“I am relying on you mostly to do that,” William Sleeman replied, “and you know how successful you have been in the past when I have sent you on missions that I thought no one else could bring to a satisfactory conclusion.”

“Thank you.”

The two men smiled at each other and they both knew that in this struggle they were grateful for each other’s comradeship and understanding.

There was no one else in whom William Sleeman could confide.

He had no wish to spoil the romantic happiness that he had with Amelie by harrowing her with the unsavoury details of his work.

Of course she knew a certain amount about it, but he tried when he was at home to interest her in other things and they had a close bond in common in the subject of agriculture and sugar canes that they had first met through.

William Sleeman was also extremely interested in trees.

When the Government had congratulated him on the huge success of the Mauritius sugar canes, to celebrate the occasion he had started to plant an impressive avenue of trees from Jhansi Ghat on the Nerbudda River to Mirzapur on the Ganges.

The fruit that the trees were to bear was to be left every year for travellers to enjoy and he somewhat ironically had the trees planted and nurtured by former Thugs under his direction.

This had made him study the flora of India more closely than he had done before and Amelie with his help made some delightful sketches of flowers and plants that they knew would interest their friends at home in England.

While they drove North towards Gwalior, Cousin William pointed out to Brucena everything that he thought she would find interesting and she found that he usually had fascinating stories to tell about the people they passed on the road.

She learnt things from him such as that nine Hindus out of ten throughout India believed rainbow to derive from the breath of a snake and that a shooting star meant that a great man had been born that night or a great man had died.

Then one day on the journey when Amelie fell asleep, he told Brucena some of the superstitions that she had longed to know about the Thugs.

In a voice so low that his wife could not overhear him, William Sleeman said that before setting out on their expeditions to murder the Thugs make their oblations to Kali and to Bhowani, the Goddess of smallpox.

Before they left some of the gang would proceed in the direction they were about to take to observe the flight of the birds and to listen to the chirping of the lizards.

“What is the meaning of those sounds?” Brucena asked.

“The lizard chirping,” William Sleeman replied, “or a crow making a noise on a living tree on the left side are good.”

“And are there others?” Brucena enquired.

“A great number,” he answered. “The appearance of a tiger is deemed an excellent sign and the noise of a partridge on the right side of the road denotes that they will meet with good booty on that very spot. Accordingly they will wait there for their unfortunate victim.”

“And what signs forecast bad luck?” Brucena questioned.

“A hare or a snake crossing the road before them, an owl screeching and the noise of a single jackal.”

“It all sounds very complicated.”

“I am glad to say it does make their task more difficult,” her cousin replied. “They are unlucky to murder a person of the Kamale Caste and also metalworkers, carpenters, washer-men, stonecutters, pot-makers and lepers!”

Brucena gave a little cry.

“That does not seem to leave many potential victims.”

“They find enough,” William Sleeman said drily, “and many a party of travellers owe their lives because amongst them there was a man driving a cow or a female goat.”

“Do Thugs strangle only the rich?” Brucena wanted to know.

William Sleeman shook his head.

“There is no difference for them between rich and poor for theirs is a religious duty,” he commented.

“I cannot think why you chose this very difficult task of suppressing these particular people.”

“I think God did that for me,” William Sleeman said simply and Brucena knew that he believed it to be the truth.

Amelie then awoke and they went back to the subjects of trees and flowers.

Many of the people they passed on the first part of their journey were walking and had a packhorse or a donkey to carry their goods.

Two days later they saw the Lohars in their handsome wooden bullock carts that were studded with brass inlays and nails and with wheels carved with the signs of the Zodiac.

Brucena exclaimed about them and William Sleeman explained,

“The carts creep from village to village as the Lohars apply their hereditary trade of making fine tools.”

“Do they travel all over India?”

“They wander because in the sixteenth century,” William Sleeman replied, “when their Rajah Pratap Singh was defeated by the Moslems, the tribe made a vow that its people would never live in Rajasthan until Pratap Singh was King again. They are still hoping that someday he will return.”

It was this sort of story that made the journey pass quickly for Brucena and she slept peacefully at night to dream of the mango groves, the banyan trees and the little villages where the elders clustered in the shade while the children played naked with one another on the dusty brown earth.

The mud huts, the bullocks dragging clumsy wooden ploughs, the sudden sight of a clump of hibiscus flowers, the smell of woodsmoke and blossom and occasionally the music of a flute had a magic that Brucena felt she could never describe to anyone who had not actually seen it themselves.

They sometimes stopped for quite a long time while William Sleeman consulted with the elders of a village or received a report from one of the District Officers.

There young men always looked at Brucena with admiration when they met and wistfully when they departed, leaving the Englishman to a lonely existence in which he coped with the problems and difficulties that arose daily and unceasingly in small Indian communities over an area of hundreds of square miles.

At last, when it seemed that they had travelled for an interminable time, they moved into the undulating country of Gwalior, which was very different in every way from the land that they had just passed through.

There were rivers and many more trees than they had seen previously and finally in the distance a great red Fort topped a precipitous ridge, appearing to menace the town beneath it.

The Fort had a long and lurid history. Rajput women had destroyed themselves by fire between its walls and the Moghuls had poisoned prisoners by giving them the juice of poppies mixed with poisonous flowers.

Several times the British had captured the Fort and returned it to Sindia.

“I cannot help feeling,” William Sleeman said as he looked ahead, “that we are approaching the Capital of a Dynasty of Barbarian Princes who, like Attila the Hun, would choose their place of residence as the devils choose Pandemonium.”

“Be careful what you say, dearest,” Amelie begged him.

“I have hated Gwalior,” he replied, “ever since the first time I came here. Before I reached my camp a gang of thieves had stolen one of my best carpets and the brass brackets of my tent poles!”

The way he spoke made both Amelie and Brucena laugh.

“Let me warn you to be careful,” he said seriously. “I remember a minor Rajah who came here some years ago to pay his respects to the then Maharajah of Gwalior and he had all his jewels, clothes and valuables rifled.”

Amelie put her hand tip to her neck as she remarked,

“I now wish that I had not brought my pearls with me.”

“That same Rajah,” her husband went on, “also lost five horses and he warned me that I should cut off the tails of all my horses or they would certainly be panicked from the camp and ridden off into the night.”

“Are things just as bad now?” Amelie asked.

“I would not be surprised,” he replied, “although I imagine that, as we are guests of Lord Rawthorne, we will be fairly safe. Yet thieves are thieves wherever you may find them. I advise you both to keep with you always anything you have of value.”

“I cannot understand why you did not tell me about this earlier,” Amelie complained.

William Sleeman laughed.

“I was rather afraid that if I did, you might refuse to come at the last moment. As I wished to get into Gwalior without offending the Resident by saying that I am here on business, I thought it best to keep silent.”

“It was very naughty of you, dearest,” Amelie scolded him.

But both William Sleeman and Brucena knew that she was not really angry.

Their reception was certainly impressive.

Guns were fired, Lord Rawthorne rode out to meet them with a detachment of Cavalry carrying pennants, flowers were thrown into their carriage and great crowds of people cheered as they drove through the town towards The Palace.

The old town of Gwalior was a mile and a half from the new town of Lashkar, ‘the Camp’, so named when the previous Maharajah, a warlike man, had pitched his tents there in 1809.

He had started to erect a permanent building surrounded by a Park or compound so vast that, Brucena was told later, tigers strolled through it thinking that they were still in their own wild territory.

The Palace was very impressive and it was surrounded with crimson bougainvillaea.

There was the din of a vast number of kettle drums and the braying of barbaric trumpets and then, passing The Palace itself, they came to a smaller building, which Lord Rawthorne, now riding beside them, told them was his Guesthouse.

They stepped out and Brucena thought that despite the annoying manner in which Lord Rawthorne was looking at her, despite all that Cousin William had said about Gwalior, she was glad that she had come.

Lord Rawthorne was in his element and had obviously been given carte blanche by the Maharajah to entertain his guests as he wished. There appeared to be an army of servants to look after them and Brucena and Amelie’s rooms were decorated with a profusion of flowers.

“He is certainly being very attentive,” Amelie said as she and Brucena went to their bedrooms to freshen themselves up after their journey. “I am quite certain that, if William and I had come without you, our welcome would not have been so overwhelming!”

Brucena laughed.

“At least I have my uses!”

Amelie looked at her reflectively.

“His Lordship is very presentable and, I believe, very rich.”

“If you are matchmaking,” Brucena replied, “you can forget it. If you want the truth, I find him rather repulsive.”

“An English Lord has great social standing, I am told,” Amelie observed.

“That is true,” Brucena agreed, “but being English I have no wish for an arranged marriage. So stop scheming, Amelie! When I do decide to become someone’s wife, I want to be in love.”

“I can still go on scheming!” Amelie flashed, “You would look very pretty in a coronet.”

“And so would you,” Brucena retorted, “but instead of looking for a French Duc or at least a Comte, like your father, you settled for an English Political Officer who lives in the wilds of Saugor!”

“That is true,” Amelie exclaimed. “But William is different and far more attractive than any other man in the world. So you can give up looking for his equal.”

“Whatever you may say, I shall still go on hoping to find another William,” Brucena retorted and went to her bedroom.

There were two Indian maids to wait on her and, as she took off her bonnet, she saw a note on her dressing table.

She guessed who it was from and did not open it until she had changed her gown.

Then somewhat reluctantly she took it up in her fingers, feeling that Lord Rawthorne was already encroaching on her in a manner that she was sure he would maintain for the whole of her stay.

She had found herself understanding Amelie’s assertion that he was in actual fact a very eligible gentleman and that any other girl in her position would encourage his advances and hope fervently that he would propose marriage.

Brucena could not explain her feelings about him. She only knew they were there and that she not only found him unpleasant but actively not like him in any way.

She had been sure of it when she had seen his eyes searching her face on arrival and had known when he took her hand as they entered the guest house that the mere proximity of him made her flesh creep.

‘It’s absurd and I am quite certain that I should not allow it to happen,’ she told herself. ‘But it does and I only hope he does not manoeuvre me into a position where I am alone with him.’

She was quite certain that that was what he intended to do and she opened the letter wondering what he would say.

His writing was what she expected, she thought, bold and large, and the note was written in a way that was almost as if he ordered her to appreciate what he said.

“Welcome, my dream Princess. I have been counting the hours until your arrival and now I kiss your hand in greeting and hope for very much more.”

Brucena dropped the letter down on the dressing table and turned away from the mirror.

“Thank you very much,” she said in Urdu to her two attendants and they giggled with delight because she had spoken to them in their own language.

They bowed and put their hands together, palm to palm, as they left the room.

The sitting room, which was in the centre of the building, was decorated with a huge chandelier, which, Brucena was to find later, was very characteristic of the decoration of the main Palace.

The previous Maharajah had liked everything to glitter so that not only the chandelier but even the furniture glinted with pieces of crystal, polished gold and engraved glass.

There were cool drinks in the sitting room and little sweetmeats that were delicious but, as Amelie remarked regretfully, extremely fattening.

There was also Lord Rawthorne, who seemed larger and more overpowering than he had in Saugor.

“I have planned very exciting things for you tomorrow,” he proclaimed, “but I thought tonight you would like to be quiet after your journey. So we will just dine here en famille, although, of course. His Highness is looking forward to meeting you.”

“It sounds delightful,” Amelie said politely.

“I have been enjoying the tiger shooting,” Lord Rawthorne continued. “I don’t know, William, whether you or Hadleigh wish to take part in a shoot while you are here. I can certainly arrange one that will guarantee you several fine animals at the end of the day.”

Lord Rawthorne continued to describe how well he had shot and how many animals he had already bagged, but Brucena had ceased to listen to him.

She was looking out into the flower-filled garden and the compound where The Palace with its Guesthouses stood and was wondering if it would ever be possible for her to go into the town and see the people.

Perhaps, if luck was on her side, she would have a glimpse of the little boy who she had never forgotten.

However she had an idea that they would be cut off from having any contact with the ordinary people and, while she was still wondering, the door opened and the Honourable Richard Cavendish, British Resident of Gwalior, was announced.

There was no doubt that he was extremely annoyed and irritated that Captain Sleeman, whom he had forbidden to capture or harass any Thugs in the Province of Gwalior, was actually here in person.

But he had the good sense not to say anything provocative, although it was obvious from the expression on his face and the tone of his voice that they could expect no welcome from him.

“That I am surprised to see you, Sleeman,” he said, “is to express my feelings very mildly!”

“I found it impossible to refuse Lord Rawthorne’s most generous invitation,” William Sleeman replied blithely, “besides which my wife and I are most eager to show a little of India to my cousin, who was recently arrived from England to stay with us. Let me introduce you.”

Mr. Cavendish greeted Brucena with what she thought was bad grace, but, because she thought that it would please her cousin, she asked questions about Gwalior that he was bound to reply to.

Fortunately Lord Rawthorne had invited the Resident to dinner and when the ladies retired to rest before dinner, Amelie piped up,

“It was almost worth coming all this way to see how much it annoys Mr. Cavendish. He never expected to find William on his territory and in a position where he cannot order him to leave.”

“I think he is a horrid man,” Brucena said, “apart from the fact that he allows the Thugs so much licence.”

“I agree with you,” Amelie replied, “but we must be careful for William’s sake to be charming to everyone.”

And that, Brucena thought with a sinking of her heart, included Lord Rawthorne.

Dinner was a fairly quiet meal as they all were tired, but after it was over, Lord Rawthorne insisted that they should go out onto the verandah and look at the lights of the town below them, at the great precipice at their back and at the countryside stretching out towards a far horizon.

With the cliffs and gorges, mango groves and a winding river it was very beautiful as the sun sank.

There were lights coming out one by one and Brucena knew that she would find it very romantic and inspiring if Lord Rawthorne had not taken the opportunity of standing unnecessarily close to her and attempting to speak to her alone.

“I have so much to show you and so much to talk to you about,” he said in a voice that he thought only she could hear.

“I am too tired tonight to appreciate anything,” she replied.

“You received my note?”

“Yes.”

“There were so many other things I wanted to write, but I thought I would rather say them.”

“I hope that is something you will not do.”

“You will not be able to stop me.”

“Then I shall be extremely – angry.”

“Will it really make you angry to be told that you have haunted me ever since I left Saugor,” he asked, “and that only by pretending that you were in my arms have I been able to sleep?”

Brucena moved some steps away from him and he followed her to say,

“Have I now made you angry?”

“Yes, very! You are not to speak to me in such a familiar manner. It is quite outrageous after such a short acquaintance.”

“It does not seem short to me. I feel I have known you for years and have been looking for you all my life.”

“We actually met only forty-eight hours ago.”

“If it was forty-eight minutes or forty-eight years, I should feel exactly the same,” Lord Rawthorne persisted.

His face was very near to hers and, because she had no idea of how to cope with the situation, she hurried all the way down the verandah to join Amelie, who was talking to Major Hadleigh.

“I am tired, Amelie,” she said, “and I am sure that you are too. I think we should retire to bed.”

‘You are quite right, Brucena,” Amelie answered. “There is always tomorrow to see everything. Goodnight, Lord Rawthorne, and thank you for your kind and generous welcome.”

She curtseyed.

“Goodnight, Major Hadleigh.”

Both men bowed as Brucena curtseyed too, but then Lord Rawthorne put out his hand as if to stop her from leaving the room.

“I want to talk to you,” he insisted again. “Must you go?”

“I am sorry,” Brucena replied, “but I can – barely keep my eyes open.”

She hurried quickly after Amelie and they went together to their bedrooms, which were on the other side of the Guesthouse.

“Lord Rawthorne is obviously extremely enamoured of you,” Amelie commented.

“He is far too forward and says things he has no right to say.”

“Promise me one thing.”

“What is that?”

“If he does propose, that you will not turn him down immediately, but will think it over. It would, as you must know, be a brilliant marriage for you and I assure you that, although William and I could produce a number of attractive men who would meet with your approval, they would not be of Lord Rawthorne’s social standing nor would they be likely to possess much money except for what they earn.”

“I have told you – what I want,” Brucena replied.

“I would not ask you to marry for money and position,” Amelie said after a moment’s pause, “but you might at least try to find love where these things are.”

Brucena laughed.

“Now, dearest Amelie, you are being very French!”

She kissed her and went to her own room, where she stood looking out into the night.

‘Suppose I never find love?’ she asked herself. ‘But it would be impossible for me to find satisfaction with anything less than what I have hoped for in my dreams.’

She realised that the future was a very unknown quantity for she had no wish to return to Scotland to her fault-finding father and jealous stepmother.

But she would not be able to stay with the Sleemans forever and she knew that, however much she might protest, Amelie would not let her look after her baby as she intended, but was already searching for a good Ayah whom other Englishwomen could recommend.

As Brucena had protested, she had said,

“You can certainly help me supervise the baby and, of course, I want him with me as much as possible. At the same time I don’t want to bore William and I know that, however pleased he will be with his child, he will still want to have me alone.”

“That is when I can look after the baby,” Brucena said firmly.

“With the help of an Ayah. Don’t be ridiculous, Brucena. You are far too young and attractive to want to tie yourself to a child. It is men you should be thinking about and one in particular who will be your future husband.”

“Until this paragon of all virtues turns up,” Brucena laughed, “I might as well make myself useful.”

She was sure that Amelie would let her do nothing of the sort and that, once she began to trust the Ayah, it would become obvious that she could not impose on their hospitality any longer.

The alternative, of course, was to encourage Lord Rawthorne, not that he needed any encouragement.

‘It’s no use!’ Brucena whispered into the night. ‘I cannot like him and no amount of persuasion will ever make me feel any differently.’

She could hear mosquitos buzzing in the darkness and she quickly summoned her maids to come and undress her and then crept under the folds of the mosquito netting.

When she finally lay down, she fell asleep almost immediately.

*

There was no doubt that Lord Rawthorne had excelled himself in his efforts to entertain Brucena and there was no pretending that anyone else mattered.

It was her face he watched as the elephants encrusted with silver paint and bearing silver howdahs moved into position, looking in the early morning mist like great prehistoric monsters, their great forelegs heaving as the howdahs rocked.

Two Squadrons of the Gwalior Lancers jingled past and the excited crowds waited for what Brucena knew would be the great moment of the Parade.

There was a smell of damp earth for the whole ground had been drenched with water from hundreds of goatskin bags so that the small party sitting on valuable Persian carpets and under the shade of silk umbrellas should not be incommoded by the dust.

There was a roll of kettle-drums, the blare of many trumpets and now through the mist came a huge elephant, far larger than the others, strewn with jewels and carrying on its back a golden howdah and the young Maharajah was seated in it.

One look at his ugly malicious face told Brucena that Cousin William was right in everything he had said about him.

He clambered down a ladder from the elephant and they were all presented by Lord Rawthorne. She wondered if the people cheering and turning to him really accepted him as their divinely appointed Ruler.

The Maharajah joined them, seated on a chair that was not unlike a throne and protected from the sun not only by a gold umbrella but also by fans made of peacocks’ feathers.

Then the entertainment began.

There were marching soldiers, jugglers, magicians, snake charmers and acrobats.

“The dancing girls are being kept for tonight,” Lord Rawthorne pointed out. “They will doubtless amuse the other men, but I shall have eyes only for you.”

“Tell me about the snake charmers,” Brucena said, trying to change the subject from herself.

“You charm me in a manner that I cannot describe,” Lord Rawthorne went on. “You have caught me in a spell that I can never escape from.”

Try as she would, Brucena could make him talk about anything but herself.

By the time the entertainment was over and they were driving back to The Palace, she thought that, while what she had watched was fascinating, she wished that Cousin William or even Major Hadleigh had been able to explain it to her, rather than her having to listen to Lord Rawthorne turning everything she said into an over-effusive compliment.

“I must say,” William Sleeman said when they were alone, “our host makes his feelings very obvious, Brucena. I think perhaps as your Guardian I should ask him if his intentions are strictly honourable.”

He was teasing her, but Brucena rose almost angrily to the bait,

“You are to do nothing of the sort, Cousin William!” she blustered. “I do my best to discourage his Lordship. If you want the truth, he has completely spoilt the morning for me. I wanted to know the history of what was happening, but he could do nothing but make ridiculous compliments even including one about my eyelashes!”

“Well, they are rather long,” William Sleeman commented.

Brucena stamped her foot, then realised that he was laughing at her and she began to laugh too.

“Brucena is being quite ridiculous!” Amelie chipped in. “She ought to be delighted that the most eligible man we have ever seen in this part of the world is at her feet, instead of which all she does is to kick him away. You should speak severely to her, William.”

“I have a feeling it is due to Brucena’s Cornish blood,” he replied, “It makes every one of us an idealist. I had decided never to marry until I met you, my darling, and then look what happened.”

“Oh, William, was I really what you had been looking for all the years you had remained a bachelor?” Amelie asked, breaking into French as she always did when she was moved or excited.

“I have told you so often what I felt,” her husband said, a little embarrassed because Brucena was listening, “and I will tell you again, but not at this moment. We have to be ready for luncheon when we are to meet all the grand dignitaries of Gwalior. And a very unprepossessing lot they are!”

“Be careful, William,” Amelie cautioned him quickly. “You know in this place even the walls have ears!”

It was not until late in the afternoon when it was growing cooler that Brucena, carrying a sunshade over her head, slipped out through her bedroom window and into the garden.

She was anxious to avoid letting Lord Rawthorne know where she was going because she was quite certain that he would insist on accompanying her and that would spoil everything.

She wanted to wander round by herself. She wanted to see without having to talk about it and without everything she said being changed into something personal.

She kept out of sight of the windows of the Guesthouse by moving between the great banks of bougainvillea.

The garden was a sheer delight with exotic flowers and creepers that climbed over and round the trees that the frangipani petals fell from like snowflakes onto the ground beneath them.

There was no doubt that the surroundings were beautiful and it was a pity, Brucena thought, that the characters of the people who lived in Gwalior did not match the beauty of the place.

The compound where the Palace was situated was so enormous that it held, as is usual in India, a vast number of people living in it, all of whom she was sure served the Maharajah in one capacity or another.

There were servants in his special uniform moving from some low houses at the back towards The Palace and there were soldiers whom she had seen on parade, now off duty, who were camping in tents in another part of the Park.

Then she saw children playing amongst the low houses from which came the smell of cooking, while smoke, white and thick, rose slowly over them with no breeze to blow it away.

Most of them, Brucena saw at a glance, were not as pretty as the children she had seen at Saugor and in particular one child, who she was still thinking about and who, if she was honest, she was trying to find.

There were men, heavily moustachioed and bearded, sitting under banyan trees and deep in conversation.

They made her think of the men she had seen with the little boy who was crying. They too were wearing turbans, white-sashed dhotis over pantaloons and sandals with curled toes.

‘A description,’ she told herself, ‘that might apply to millions of men all over India.’

Several men looked up as she passed them, but they did not seem to be particularly interested and she walked on, moving amongst the trees, passing shrubs and flowers and then finding more low houses crowded with people.

She knew that it was nothing unusual, because she had read that most Indian servants, when they were fortunate enough to have a job with the Maharajah or someone in the East India Company, supported perhaps ten or fifteen relatives. Wherever he went, they went too.

There were many lean dogs looking for scraps and occasionally a tethered goat struggling to find grass on the dried up sun-baked ground that badly needed rain.

‘I must go back,’ Brucena thought. ‘It will soon be time to change for dinner.’

Then, turning round the side of a clump of flowering bushes, she came upon half-a-dozen children playing together under some trees

They were of various ages and she saw as she looked at them that they were all boys and each one seemed a little more attractive than the last.

She had a feeling, although she could not be sure, that they came from many different Castes.

They were playing happily with one another, some with small sticks, others with stones.

Then, as she stood watching them, she saw the boy she sought or rather, to be truthful, he saw her.

He was standing a little detached from the rest as if he was shy and afraid to join them.

Then his eyes, unusually serious, which seemed to fill his small face, lit up and he came towards her just as he had done before.

Now he had no flower, but, when he reached her, he put his hand into the breast of the clothes he wore and drew out what with a leap of her heart she expected – the little ball of pink silk that she had given him!

She crouched down so that her face was level with his.

“You have your pink ball,” she said in Urdu. “I was looking for you.”

He smiled at her and she thought that, although she spoke haltingly, he understood.

“Where is your mother?” she asked him.

For a moment he looked puzzled and then as she repeated the question an expression of pain came into his face and his eyes filled with tears.

“Mother – dead,” he stammered and as he spoke he put his hand up to his neck.

Brucena drew in her breath as she knew that she had found out what she wanted to know.

She thought quickly whether there was anything more she could say or could give him and then some instinct warned her that it was dangerous.

But she could not leave him and could not go away when he had recognised her and she felt in some way that he trusted her.

Because she had nothing else, she took off the white silk tassel that was attached to her sunshade and put it into his hand.

He looked at it with delight.

“For you!” she said.

“Mine?” he questioned as he had before.

“Yes, yours.”

He was obviously delighted, but he did not run and jump as he had done with the children she had first seen him with.

Instead he just stood, holding the tassel against him, the pink ball also in his hand.

It was then that Brucena saw a man coming through the trees opposite where the children were playing.

He was tall and moustachioed and she knew from his turban and his white-sashed dhoti that he was one of the men she had seen with the small boy on the road.

She rose and said deliberately in English,

“Goodbye.”

As if the boy was too intent on his new trophy to be interested, she moved away, aware only as she went that the man coming towards her was watching her,

She had the uncomfortable feeling that, if she looked at him, she would see an expression of suspicion on his face.

Chapter Five

Brucena thought that the entertainment seemed to go on interminably.

At any other time she knew that she would have been thrilled and delighted with the dancing of the women, the snake charmers and the strange musical instruments whose melody she was beginning to appreciate.

But she found it hard to prevent her thoughts from returning again and again to the little boy, who she sensed was now in the possession of the Thugs.

There was no doubt that the men she had seen him with on the road must have killed the whole party of travellers but, as she had learnt from her books, they had saved the child because he was attractive.

For what reason she did not like to question too closely.

The Maharajah who had received them was like a Prince in a Fairytale and only his face betrayed the fact that he was the villain rather than the hero.

His clothes were embroidered with gold, his achkau was sewn with jewels and there were more jewels in his turban besides a great aigrette pinned to the gold tissue, while ropes of pear-shaped diamonds were looped about it like tinsel on a Christmas tree.

Jewels flashed on his fingers and blazed on the gold on his sword belt while the hilt of his sword was encrusted with diamonds and topped by a single emerald the size of a rupee.

There were ropes and ropes of magnificent pearls round his neck and Brucena thought wryly that Amelie had been quite right in thinking that her two little strings of pearls would not be noticed.

Equally while the Maharajah was obviously prepared to be pleasant to Lord Rawthorne’s guests, she knew that there was something evil about him, just as she was sure that a great number of those present were prepared not only to tolerate the Thugs but perhaps even to encourage them.

It took away all her joy in the barbarous splendour and beauty of the evening and wherever she looked she could see only the little boy’s face and the tears coming into his eyes when he had said,

“Mother – dead.”

It was with a sense of relief Brucena realised that Cousin William had indicated that his wife was tired and it was time for her to retire.

“There is no need for you to go,” Lord Rawthorne said hastily as she rose.

‘“On the contrary,” Brucena replied coldly. “When Mrs. Sleeman leaves, I obviously must accompany her.”

“Why?” he asked. “There are plenty of other people to chaperone you, if that is what you want.”

She did not deign to answer him, but merely followed Amelie as she curtseyed to the Maharajah and then, escorted by her husband, moved towards the door.

Everyone they passed put their palms together politely and bowed their heads but, while they seemed respectful, Brucena somehow felt that the expression in their eyes belied it and she was glad to be leaving the great chandeliered hall where the Maharajah had entertained them.

Perhaps, she thought, it was as glittering as its owner’s jewels, but beneath it there was something dark and frightening and every instinct in her body shrank from it.

There was a carriage outside to carry them back to the Guesthouse, but, only as they drove the short distance to it, did Brucena realise that Major Hadleigh was not with them.

 ‘I would suppose that he is enjoying the dancing girls,’ she thought scornfully and then told herself that in all justice he might have other reasons for staying.

It suddenly struck her that she had seen very little of him that evening.

He had been present at dinner, which had been a long-drawn-out feast, but she could not remember if afterwards he had sat beside them on the satin-covered chairs that were grouped round the inevitable gold throne that accommodated the Maharajah.

At the time all she had been conscious of was Lord Rawthorne whispering compliments in her ears and making eyes at her with the brand of arrogance and impertinence that was peculiarly his own.

‘I dislike him more every time we meet,’ Brucena decided.

She had known and been annoyed that Amelie had been watching his overtures with pleasure and she knew too that, whatever she might say, the Frenchwoman was convinced that in her own interests she should marry such an important man.

They reached the Guesthouse and Amelie gave a little yawn.

“It was a very spectacular evening, but I must admit to feeling rather tired.”

“Not too tired, my darling?” her husband asked.

“No, I am all right, but I shall be glad to be able to lie down.”

“Will you forgive me if I go back for a little while to the party?” William Sleeman asked. “I know that otherwise we shall offend our host, who has certainly put himself out to amuse us.”

“Don’t be too long, dearest,” Amelie urged him, “although I think I shall be asleep when you return.”

“I will do my best not to wake you,” William Sleeman promised.

He kissed his wife, said ‘goodnight’ to Brucena and disappeared out into the night to where the carriage was still waiting for him.

Brucena looked after him, an expression of consternation on her face.

She had meant to take this opportunity of telling him about the small boy, but now it was impossible.

There had been no chance for her to do so on her previous return to the Guesthouse for it was already getting late and she had to hurry to be ready at the time the carriage was to carry them to The Palace.

‘I must tell him, I must!’ she thought, but there was nothing she could do now but go to her bedroom where her maids were waiting for her.

They helped her out of her gown and then she brushed her hair absentmindedly, thinking of the child and feeling that, even if Cousin William knew about him, there would be nothing he could do.

‘It’s an intolerable position,’ she pondered.

She was aware that in any other State, the British Resident would allow a child who had been kidnapped in such a way to be taken back to the Province where the crime had taken place.

Yet she knew without asking that Mr. Cavendish would do absolutely nothing to help Cousin William and instead would actively obstruct him from carrying out what he believed to be his duty.

‘The whole situation is horrible,’ Brucena concluded.

The maids left her and she climbed into bed, but she found it impossible to sleep.

Then for the first time she felt that perhaps she had put herself in a dangerous position.

All she had done was give the little boy a tassel from her sunshade, but she had asked him about his mother and she had a feeling that, if he was questioned, there would be no reason for him not to tell the truth about what the English lady had said to him.

She had an uncomfortable feeling that the man whom she had seen advancing towards them would be well aware of who she was and where he had seen her before.

‘He will know that I will tell Cousin William,’ she decided, ‘and he will be afraid that his crime will be discovered.’

Then she told herself that he would not take it so seriously. Even if William Sleeman knew about him and as long as he remained in Gwalior he was safe.

She felt her mind going over and over everything that had happened until she felt almost like a squirrel in a cage turning round and round and yet not advancing at all.

She had been lying there thinking for two or perhaps three hours, it might even have been longer, and now the shafts of moonlight were flooding in through the uncurtained windows turning everything in the room to silver.

Looking at it from behind the mosquito net it seemed to Brucena strange and beautiful but at the same time sinister.

The moonlight itself was revealing, yet the shadows were very dark and so much was hidden.

Then suddenly there was a sound.

It was not very distinct, yet it was different from the other noises of the night that she had heard during the past few hours.

She could not explain why, but she knew that it was different from the other sounds, which had become part of her thoughts and yet had not impinged upon them.

She suddenly felt herself shiver and it was almost as if the base of her skull prickled with a fear that she had never felt before in her whole life.

She sat up in bed, listening, straining her ears and waiting for that sound again.

She was not even certain if it was a movement or a footfall or just something she sensed and yet she could have sworn that it was caused by a human being.

It flashed through her mind that one means by which the man who had brought the little boy to Gwalior could avoid recognition as a Thug would be to kill her.

Even as she thought of it she told herself that she was being absurd.

Thugs only killed travellers. But to save himself might he not resort to murder?

She began to tremble and then little shivers of fear almost like streaks of lightning were running through her and she knew that she was desperately afraid as she had never been afraid before.

She heard the sound again and now she was almost certain that it was a footfall, hardly more than the ghost of one, and yet undoubtedly made by a man who was moving towards her – threatening her – menacing her –

For a moment it seemed as if it was impossible for her to move and that if she wished to run away her body would not obey the commands of her brain.

Then cautiously, moving silently so that she would not be heard, she lifted the mosquito netting from the side of the bed farthest from the window and slipped out.

She felt the softness of a rug beneath her bare feet and then, as she stood hesitating and still listening, the sound came again.

Now with a terror that had no reason and a panic that she could not even think clearly in, she ran across the room, pulled open the door and stepped into the darkness of the passage outside.

Vaguely she knew that she must go for help, but to whom or where she had no idea.

Anywhere, so long as it was away from the horror of what frightened her, the murderer who, she was certain, intended to take her life.

The passage was in complete darkness and, as she started to run, she crashed into someone large and massive and at the sheer horror of it a scream rose in her throat.

She felt as if she had not run away from death but into it and now there was no hope and no chance of escape.

Because she was so terrified, she could only tremble all over and wait to die.

Then two arms went round her and she knew by instinct not thought that she was safe.

She clung frantically to the man who was holding her, still trembling violently but at the same time knowing far away at the back of her mind that she was now safe from what she had feared.

“What is it?” a voice asked in so low a whisper that she could barely hear it.

Because she could not answer, her voice having died in her throat, she could only look up in the direction of where the voice had come from and, as she did so, a man’s lips took possession of hers and held her captive.

For a moment she felt nothing, not even surprise, only a sudden sensation of relief that swept away her agonising fear.

Then, as the man’s arms tightened, her lips were suddenly soft beneath the insistence of his and she felt the terror, which was still making her tremble, dissolve as if the sun was rising in the darkness of the sky.

Something warm and wonderful and infinitely marvellous crept up her body, moving slowly and yet relentlessly through her breasts, up to reach her constricted throat and from there into her lips.

It was so perfect, so unlike anything that she had ever felt or known before and so rapturous that she felt her whole being surrender to the glory of it.

It was like touching the Life Force itself and becoming a part of it and she felt the wonder of it seeping through her veins.

She felt that she ceased to be human and became Divine for only Gods could know such rapture.

How long the kiss lasted Brucena had no idea, she knew only that the darkness and terror had gone and she was in a light that came from her heart and was part of the beauty of music, flowers and sunshine.

She was safe as she had always wanted to be and there was no more fear.

Ian Hadleigh raised his head and said in a voice that was hard to recognise,

“My darling, my sweet! I have loved you for so long and have not dared to tell you so.”

“I – love you, too,” Brucena whispered, her voice quivering, “but I had not – realised it was – love.”

Even as she spoke, she knew that this was why she had disliked Lord Rawthorne, why she had hated his compliments and had found him repulsive.

It was also why she had been angry at Ian Hadleigh’s disapproval and his habit of finding her in compromising circumstances and why she had missed him when he had not been there.

It was now impossible to think, but only to feel and, without really meaning to, she moved even closer to him.

Then he was kissing her again, kissing her with long, slow, passionate kisses that seemed to draw her very heart from her body and make it his.

He kissed her until the whole world seemed to turn upside down and glisten and glitter with a radiance like the chandeliers in the Maharajah’s Palace.

Then at length, as if human nature broke under the strain of such ecstasy, Brucena hid her face against his neck and he said very quietly,

“I love you, but you must tell me what has upset you.”

It was then that Brucena realised that she had forgotten why she had run from her bedroom, why she had been terror-stricken and why she had sought safety only to find it in Ian Hadleigh’s arms.

As it all came back to her, she felt the shafts of fear run through her again and she said hastily, her words tumbling over one another,

“I have – something very – important to – tell you.”

“I am ready to listen,” he replied, “but not here. It would be best to go back to your room.”

He felt her start at his decision and he asked,

“Is there something there that has upset you?”

“Not – now that – you are with me,” she stuttered after a pause.

With his arms round her he drew her down the passage and opened her door.

Apprehensively Brucena looked round, half-fearing to see a figure near the window or a knife in the bed, but there was nothing.

Nothing but the moonlight and the sheet crumpled and thrown back as she had left it.

Ian Hadleigh closed the door behind them and then asked,

“What has upset you, my precious?”

As he spoke, Brucena gave a little gasp, for he was not in the evening dress of the Bengal Lancers as he had been when they had dined with the Maharajah, but dressed as a native with a turban on his head and a white dhoti that made him appear like every other Indian.

He smiled at her astonishment and murmured,

“You have made me forget everything except that I love you.”

“You have – been out in – disguise?”

“At this moment we are neither of us our ordinary selves.”

His words made Brucena suddenly conscious of her own appearance and she was aware for the first time that she had nothing on but a thin lawn nightgown trimmed with lace.

Instinctively she put up her hands as if to protect herself from his gaze and Ian Hadleigh suggested quietly,

“Get into bed, my darling. Then we will talk, although it may seem reprehensible, but I just have to know what has frightened you.”

“Yes – of course,” Brucena agreed.

She lifted up the mosquito net to get back into bed and would have slipped her legs under the sheet, but at that moment, to her surprise, Ian Hadleigh suddenly took her by the arm and pulled her roughly from the bed back onto the floor.

She gave a little murmur of astonishment and looked at him with wide eyes, but already he had bent forward under the mosquito net and was turning back the sheet slowly and carefully.

She saw him pause, saw his hand go to his side and the next moment he seemed to lurch forward.

“What – is it? What – are you – doing?” she asked, her voice a terrified whisper.

Then, as she moved sideways, she saw that in one hand he held a long pointed knife and in the other was something small and green that moved only with the last contraction of its muscles in death.

For a moment it was impossible to move.

Then, as she pressed her hands against her breasts in sheer horror, Ian carried the snake across the room to the window and threw it out.

“A – snake!” Brucena exclaimed. “Then there was – something! I knew – he – I am sure – he was – trying to – kill me!”

“But who? And why?” he asked, turning from the window.

She saw the knife disappear back into his clothing.

“Why you, my precious?”

“That is – what I want to – tell you,” Brucena said. “Oh, Ian, I am – frightened. Take me – away.”

As she spoke, she ran towards him and his arms went round her again.

Holding her close, feeling her heart thumping tumultuously against his, he knew that she was obsessed with a terror that made it almost impossible for her to speak.

“It’s all right,” he said gently. “You are safe. I will look after you and there will be no more snakes – that I promise you.”

“He will – try again to kill me,” Brucena shuddered, her voice coming as if from a long distance. “He knew I had– recognised the boy.”

“What are you talking about?” Ian Hadleigh asked.

Then he said,

“You will not want to sleep here, that I understand. I will find you another room and you shall tell me all about it, but first – ”

He looked round indecisively before, to Brucena’s surprise, he took his arms from her and sat her down gently on a chair.

He pulled the turban from his head and, walking across the bedroom, entered the adjoining washroom.

It was fairly primitive with a sluice, several cans of cold water and a tank attached to the wall making a kind of shower.

As Brucena waited, shaken and frightened, not knowing what he was doing, Ian came back wearing one of the towelling robes that were to be found in all the wash places.

They were provided so that anyone who had used the shower could dry in comfort without even bothering to rub themselves down.

Ian, without his native dress, now looked like an ordinary Englishman and there was nothing to show that when Brucena had run into him in the passage he had been disguised as a native.

He looked round her bedroom, picked up a négligée that the maids had left hanging over a chair and suggested,

“Put this on, my darling. I am going to find another bedroom for you, but before I fetch a servant, you must tell me what frightened you and why in God’s name there should be a snake in your bed.”

Brucena looked up at him, then rose to her feet and moved close into his arms.

“Hold – me! Hold me – close to you. I am – frightened. If it was not a snake, it could have been a knife or a – yellow scarf!”

Her voice broke on the last words and Ian said reassuringly,

“The Thugs would not touch you, my darling Why should they?”

“That is – what I am – going to tell you.”

She gave a little sigh.

“I wanted to tell Cousin William tonight – but he went back to the party and I knew that I must not speak to him when Amelie was – there.”

“Tell me,” Ian insisted.

He sat down on a chair and as he did so he pulled her down onto his knee, cradling her in his arms as if she was a child.

She put her head on his shoulder so that she could talk very softly.

Because it was wonderful to be so close to him and to know for the moment that nothing could hurt her, she was able to tell him fairly coherently of the little boy who had given her the flower and in return she had given him a ball of pink silk.

She went on to explain how she had seen the child again in tears as they had driven back to Saugor and how she had been sure that the Thugs had killed his family.

She paused for breath before she told Ian how the boy’s unhappy little face had haunted her and she had been convinced that he was somewhere in Gwalior.

“I was – right,” she murmured, “and, oh, Ian – what will happen to him – with those terrible men – what will they do – to him?”

“Finish your story, my darling,” he said quietly.

She felt him stiffen as her tale progressed from her seeing and talking again to the boy that afternoon until the moment when she had heard strange sounds and been terrified that the man who had seen her talking to the boy was coming to kill her.

“That is – what he – meant to do,” she said in a broken voice.

“It is something he will not do again,” Ian replied. “I am going to find another room for you, my darling. I want you to try to sleep. Everything will be all right, that I promise you. I only wish you had told me this before.”

“I was afraid you would think that I was only – imagining things. You were so determined to tell me – nothing about the Thugs.”

“Do you know why?”

“No”

“Because you are so beautiful, so young and so unspoilt. I could not bear you to hear such tales of horror and degradation. I wanted you to remain just as you were when you arrived, looking at India with an awe and a wonder as if it was a Kingdom of light and sunshine.”

“To me that is what it still is,” Brucena said, “and – it is even more – wonderful now – because I have found – you.”

He did not speak and after a moment she asked,

“You do love me? You really do – love me?”

“It is impossible to tell you how much,” Ian replied.

There was a faint smile on his lips as he went on,

“I fought against my feelings at first, telling myself that I was too old and too dedicated to my profession. But, my precious, I find it impossible to fight against love.”

“I knew it would be like this when I found – love, but Amelie kept telling me that I must marry – Lord Rawthorne. I know now the reason why I hated him was because I was already although I was unaware of it – in love with – you.”

“You are sure?” Ian quizzed her.

“Quite – quite sure.”

She looked up at him and in the moonlight he could see the expression on her face and he knew that, if she had been beautiful before, love had given her a radiance that was indescribable.

As if he could not help himself, he was kissing her again, kissing her demandingly and possessively until she trembled against him and her breath came quickly between her lips.

“I love you!” he said, his voice unsteady. “But, my darling, I must protect you not only against the Thugs and murderers we are surrounded by but also against any gossip. If anyone should see us at the moment, we would be considered very reprehensible!”

“I don’t – care what anyone – thinks or says,” Brucena said. “You love me and that is all that – matters.”

“All that will ever matter,” Ian replied, “but I want you to get some sleep.”

He put her feet on the ground and stood up.

“Now I want you to stand just inside the door, looking frightened, while I fetch the servants.”

“You will not – leave me alone – for long?”

“I am only going into the hall where I know that there are servants on duty.”

He kissed her again swiftly, then, as she stood by the open door, he hurried down the passage shouting.

A few seconds later he came back with several of the servants, looking as if they had been aroused from sleep.

“I heard the Memsahib scream,” Ian was explaining, “and she told me that she had seen a snake crawling on her bed. I killed it and threw it out the window. You will find it on the verandah.”

One of the servants went to the window and looked out.

“It’s a dangerous one, Sahib,” he said. “Very dangerous!”

“I was aware of that,” Ian said briefly. “And we must find the Memsahib another room. She cannot sleep here tonight.”

“No, of course, Sahib. There is a room two doors away that is unoccupied.”

“You will search it,” Ian ordered firmly. “Search it carefully for His Highness will be extremely angry that one of his guests has been frightened in such a way.”

This had the effect he intended and the servants scuttled off.

By the time Brucena, walking slowly with Ian at her side, reached the empty bedroom she was sure that they had searched every inch of it.

The room was very much the same as the one that she had just vacated and, as the servants filed away, salaaming as they did so, she asked,

“What are you – going to do?”

“I will tell you that later. Don’t forget that in the morning you must show yourself extremely upset by what has occurred and I think you should be prepared to leave immediately after breakfast. I am going to wake your cousin now and tell him why you should go.”

“Don’t upset Amelie,” Brucena urged him rapidly.

“She will know nothing except that you have been scared by a snake,” Ian replied. “Leave everything else to me.”

He held her hand very tightly and his eyes were on her lips.

She thought that he would kiss her, but then she realised that the servants were just outside the door.

“Thank– you,” she said softly.

“I love you!” he replied.

But he was saying more with his eyes than he uttered with his lips.

When Brucena was alone, because she was so happy she knew that nothing mattered except that Ian loved her.

She heard his voice in the distance and knew that there were servants now on guard outside her window and she guessed too that there would be servants sleeping in the passage outside her door, as there had been on their way to Gwalior.

Now she was no longer afraid of being murdered, for she recognised confidently that Ian would look after her.

As she fell asleep, she found herself repeating his name over and over again as if it was a talisman.

*

Brucena was not surprised, after what Ian had said, that when she came out to the covered verandah where breakfast was laid, Cousin William said,

“I am very upset to hear, Brucena, that you were frightened by a snake last night. I thought myself that all this bougainvillaea and other shrubs had been planted far too near to the houses. If I lived here, I would have them cut back to at least thirty feet from the buildings.”

“I think that would be sacrilege where – the crimson bougainvillaea is concerned,” Brucena replied, “but quite frankly, Cousin William, I am terrified of snakes.”

“We all are, but Major Hadleigh tells me that you were very brave,” he replied. “Nevertheless I think it is time we left and Amelie is already having her things packed. I will send a servant to tell your maids to do the same.”

Amelie had not appeared at breakfast, but it was impossible to talk openly to Cousin William because there were always servants in the room.

It was, however, very early and Brucena thought that there would be plenty of time for them to pack, say ‘goodbye’ to Lord Rawthorne and be on their way before it became unpleasantly hot.

She was not surprised when a short time later Lord Rawthorne strode onto the verandah obviously incensed at their decision to depart.

He was frowning and he seemed to be, Brucena thought, like a menacing typhoon.

“What is all this, Sleeman?” he enquired, his voice rising. “I have been told you are leaving.”

“We have enjoyed our visit enormously,” William Sleeman replied, “but your Lordship will understand that I cannot take leave of absence for long from my Province.”

“But I expected you to stay for at least a week.”

“That is what we would have liked to do, but I have in fact had a messenger from Saugor, telling me that there is trouble in the South and I am therefore required urgently to deal with it.”

“Surely you can delegate authority better than that?” Lord Rawthorne asked angrily. “No one is indispensable.”

“That is what I have always believed myself,” William Sleeman replied, “but apparently in this instance I am not only Superintendent but also a Magistrate and a District Officer. I wear so many hats that, when I am not there, they actually miss me!”

He spoke jovially, but Lord Rawthorne asked sulkily,

“I suppose you would not leave your wife and Miss Nairn behind?”

“I am afraid not. To begin with, my wife, as you know, is not in a condition to be left anywhere without me and Brucena is not only essential for her comfort, she is in our charge and far too precious to leave lying about!”

William Sleeman was making a joke of it, but Brucena was quite certain that he intended to be very firm and nothing that Lord Rawthorne might say would divert him from his intention to go home.

Finally, a little later than they had intended, they started off, Lord Rawthorne glowering but riding as their escort.

With a posse of the Gwalior Cavalry beside their own and the cheers of the populace, it was quite an impressive departure.

There were, however, no kettledrums or trumpets and, as they drove away with the red Fort behind them, Brucena felt that Cousin William heaved a sigh of relief, as she did.

She felt worried that there was no sign of Ian. She kept looking for him amongst the mounted soldiers riding behind them and only when she could bear it no longer did she ask,

“Is Major Hadleigh not coming with us?”

“He has gone shooting,” William Sleeman re plied. “He agreed to do so yesterday and so did not wish to disappoint those who had made the arrangements.”

Brucena drew in her breath, but with Lord Rawthorne riding beside the carriage, she did not want to say anything more.

A few miles out of Gwalior the horses were brought to a standstill and they stopped to say ‘goodbye’ to their host.

“It has been an extremely pleasant visit, Lord Rawthorne,” Amelie said, holding out her hand. “I am only so sorry that we could not stay longer.”

“So am I,” Lord Rawthorne replied. “May I hope that you will permit me to stay with you again very shortly? I should think in about a week’s time.”

There was just a little pause before Amelie repeated,

“In a week, Lord Rawthorne?”

“I intend to continue my tour, which I interrupted when I reached Saugor and asked you to be my guests here in Gwalior.”

He smiled and was looking at Brucena as he went on,

“As I told you then, I have friends in Bhopal and several other places that I wish to visit. So I plan to set off once again as an explorer of India and I hope that you will be as kind to me as you were previously.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Amelie said. “We shall look forward to it”

“I hope you will say the same,” Lord Rawthorne then addressed Brucena.

Because she thought that there was no point in being disagreeable, she answered,

“I only hope that we shall be home by then.”

“I am always prepared to wait,” Lord Rawthorne ventured.

There was no doubt that there was a deeper meaning behind his words, which Brucena had no difficulty in understanding.

She wanted to reply,

‘If you waited until Doomsday, it would make no difference.’

Instead she forced a smile to her lips.

Only when they drove on, with Lord Rawthorne watching them recede into the distance, did she say almost frantically to her cousin,

“Where is Ian? Why is he not with us?”

As she spoke, she knew that the use of Major Hadleigh’s Christian name and the agitation in her voice made both William Sleeman and his wife stare at her in astonishment.

Then, as the colour rose in her cheeks, her cousin said with a smile on his lips,

“So that is the way the wind blows! I must admit, Brucena, you have taken me by surprise.”

Brucena’s cheeks were crimson as she replied,

“I did not intend you to know so – soon, but I cannot – bear to think that he is left – behind in that – place.”

“Hadleigh can look after himself,” William Sleeman said soothingly, but Amelie gave a little cry,

“Oh, Brucena, I did so want you to be ‘my Lady’.”

“If you want my opinion,” her husband added, “Brucena has made entirely the right decision. Hadleigh is worth a dozen of any self-opinionated Lords like Rawthorne and, what is more, he will go far on his own initiative.”

Amelie was not listening, she was looking at Brucena as she said,

“Dearest, you know that all we really want is for you to be happy.”

“I am happy – very very happy,” Brucena answered, “but I – wish he was – here.”

“Now stop worrying about him “William Sleeman advised her, “and be careful what you say – the servants have ears. Don’t forget, he is tiger shooting.”

Brucena’s eyes widened

“You mean – ?” she began.

“I mean that if you are to be Ian’s wife, you must learn to keep your mouth shut and know when to assume a poker face.”

“Yes – yes – of course,” Brucena said humbly. “I am sorry I have been so – stupid.”

At the same time she knew that she was frantic with fear in case anything should happen to Ian.

How could her cousin leave him alone in Gwalior with all those Thugs? Men only too willing to strangle him with a yellow scarf, put snakes in his bed or murder him in any way that occurred to them at any moment.

They stayed the night in a Dak bungalow in the Province of Gwalior.

Brucena found it difficult to sleep and lay awake praying that Ian would be safe and that she would soon be in his arms again.

As every moment passed, she felt that her love for him increased. He seemed now to fill her whole world and there was nothing else but him.

Even the beauty of India had ceased to move her and all she could think about was his voice, the safety of his arms and his lips on hers.

When they drove on the next day, she could not imagine how her cousin and Amelie could seem so unconcerned when she felt herself growing more tense and more worried every mile they moved further away from Gwalior with no sign of the man she loved.

‘I always thought love must be a happy state to be in,’ she thought to herself, ‘But this is an agony worse than any physical pain, because my heart can suffer far more than my body.’

They reached the boundary of Gwalior State and the gorges and hills were left behind. Now everything was flatter, except that there were more mango groves and soon they would come to the sugar cane that Cousin William had planted.

Just over the border there was a Dak bungalow more comfortable than most of those that they had spent a night at on their way to Gwalior. Here, to Brucena’s surprise, they were to stay longer.

William Sleeman explained that he had a number of officials to see and he also wished to inspect the boundary between the two Provinces.

Brucena was quite certain that this concerned the Thugs, but it did not make it any easier not to worry ceaselessly because Ian had been left behind and there was still no sign of him.

Amelie was quite content to rest for a few days, not rising until it was nearly luncheontime and then sitting on the verandah out of earshot of her husband, who was entertaining local dignitaries, but glad that he was near her.

Brucena rode with two Cavalrymen in attendance when Cousin William could not accompany her, then when it was cool she would walk restlessly up and down the road outside the Dak bungalow, looking always in the direction of Gwalior and wondering what was happening as the days passed and there was still no news of Ian.

Surely, she told herself angrily, Cousin William should have left at least two Sepoys with him.

Then she knew, without having to be told, that Ian was working in disguise.

She was aware that the invitation to shoot was just an excuse to stay behind. But even so she could not bear to think of him disguised as an Indian amongst the crowds in the old town of Gwalior.

What would happen if he was discovered?

She felt almost sick with worry and it was impossible to stop herself from thinking of him and praying for him every minute of the day and night.

She told herself that she must trust him to return to her safely, as obviously William Sleeman did.

But there were so many things that might go wrong. What did it matter, she asked herself, if the Thugs flourished and multiplied a thousand fold as long as Ian was safe?

Cousin William might have dedicated himself to the suppression of Thuggee, but she was concerned only with the safety of one man – the man she loved.

*

They had now stayed four days at the Dak bungalow and, since Cousin William and Amelie had given no signs of continuing their journey, Brucena, feeling that she would go insane if she became inactive, walked determinedly out onto the road.

“Where are you going, dearest?” asked Amelie, who was sitting in the shade of the verandah.

“For a walk,” Brucena replied,

“You must not go out of sight,” Amelie cautioned.

“I have to go somewhere,” Brucena replied. “Being cooped up here, thinking and worrying, is driving me crazy!”

“I am so sorry, dearest, but he will be all right, I promise you.”

“How can you know?” Brucena enquired. “How can you have any idea of what may be happening to him? If he does not come soon, I shall go and look for him.”

“Do you think you would recognise him?” Amelie asked quietly.

“I should recognise him anywhere. I should know instinctively that he was there.”

She felt the tears come into her eyes as she spoke and, because she was a little ashamed of them, she began to walk along the dusty road.

“Don’t go too far,” Amelie warned her again, “or I shall send a Sepoy after you.”

Because she was angry Brucena merely tossed her head and walked on.

She had not bothered to put on a hat, as no one would see her, but she carried her sunshade to protect her from the sun, which had lost much of its strength as it was growing late in the day.

The road, long and dusty, stretched away into the distance and she thought that perhaps Ian was at this moment in prison in Gwalior, perhaps being tortured to make him reveal the secrets he knew about the Thugs.

If he was, what could anyone do? And if they could not rescue him, then he would die, as so many men had died in the service of India.

‘It’s not worth it! It’s not worth it!’ Brucena cried in her heart.

But she knew that to men like Cousin William and Ian, India was worth every sacrifice it demanded of them, even if it meant giving their very lives for it.

‘I have no answer to that,’ Brucena told herself.

She realised that, deep in her thoughts, she had walked quite a little way from the Dak bungalow and now, because she did not wish to upset or worry Amelie, she must turn back.

She looked towards Gwalior and sent out a prayer for Ian’s safety.

‘Take care of him, God, and bring him back to me,’ she prayed. ‘I love him and without him there would be nothing left in my life except emptiness. Keep him safe, O God, keep him safe!’

The tears were back in her eyes with the intensity of her feelings.

Then, as she was turning back resolutely in the direction of the Dak bungalow, she saw, coming down the side of a small incline where there were a few scraggy trees, a man and a child driving a goat in front of them.

It was a large she goat with its udders full of milk and it was moving slowly and reluctantly, as if it had no wish to go any further.

Brucena looked at it perfunctorily before glancing at the man, who was wearing a dirty torn dhoti and then at the child.

Quite suddenly she stood very still.

The little boy was in rags, but there was no mistaking that small beautiful face or the huge long-lashed eyes.

For a moment she thought that she must be dreaming and that her imagination had distorted her vision.

Then she looked again at the man in the dirty dhoti and gave a little cry of joy that seemed to be carried on the evening air.

She started to run towards them.

Chapter Six

“You are – safe! You are – safe!”

That evening Brucena said over and over again the same words that she had cried out when she had run towards Ian and, regardless of his appearance, flung her arms round his neck.

He looked into her eyes and she never noticed the dirt on his darkened skin or the ragged condition of his clothes,

“I am safe,” he told her quietly. “I told you to trust me.”

All she knew was that he had come back to her and nothing else in the whole world mattered.

“I was – frightened – so very frightened! But you have – brought the little boy back with you. How did you – manage it?”

She looked down at her small friend as she spoke and he had the same smile on his lips that he had given her the first time they had met.

“His name is ‘Azim’,” Ian informed her, “and he is very tired. We have walked a long way and very quickly.”

“But the she-goat protected you,” Brucena suggested in a low voice.

“I can see you are very knowledgeable” he replied, “but I think we should go to a place of safety as soon as possible and – ”

Before he could say anything more, Brucena gave a little cry.

“You – mean they are – following you?”

“I hope not,” he answered “but I never believe in taking chances.”

“Cousin William and Amelie are at the Dak bungalow,” Brucena explained. “Let’s go there at once.”

They moved forward, a strange party, Brucena in her pretty light gown, Ian and the child looking like the poorest beggars and the goat driven relentlessly forward when all she wanted to do was lie down.

Azim was given into the care of Cousin William’s personal servant, Nasir, who had been with him for many years and, as Ian disappeared to wash and change, Brucena sat down beside Amelie to tell her how frightened she had been.

“It is indeed frightening, ma pauvre petite,” Amelie agreed, “but William gets upset if I worry about him too much and you will have to hide your feelings as I have learnt to do ever since we were married.”

“It’s agonising to feel that someone you love is in danger and you can do nothing about it,” Brucena said in a low voice.

“C’est l’amour,” Amelie smiled. “Love is wonderful, but it can be extremely painful as well.”

“That is what I have – found,” Brucena agreed.

She wondered how much agony the future held for her if she was always to be apprehensive every time Ian was away from her.

But when he came out onto the verandah wearing his uniform and looking conventionally English, it was impossible to think that she had seen him only a short time before looking like the lowest Caste Hindu.

And she recognised, when her eyes met his, that any suffering was worthwhile so long as he loved her.

After a dinner that Ian made amusing by telling them in the most light-hearted way of his and Azim’s adventures on their journey from Gwalior to the border, the servants cleared the table and left.

As Amelie also went from the room and her husband followed her, Brucena asked Ian in a low voice,

“Tell me what – really happened.”

Ian moved to sit beside her and took her hand in his.

“I am not being unkind, my precious,” he said, “when I tell you that I never talk about my exploits once they are over. It is not that I don’t trust you. It is just that, in this campaign in which your cousin and I are engaged, there are so many things that are best left unsaid.”

“But I want to know,” Brucena persisted. “How did you spirit Azim away? Surely the man who kidnapped him and tried to – kill me – attempted to prevent you from – taking him?”

Ian was silent for a moment and then he said,

“Let me set your mind at rest by telling you that he is not in a position to frighten you again ever!”

“You mean he is dead?”

“Yes.”

Ian said the monosyllable reluctantly and Brucena gave a little cry.

“You killed him! I am glad. At least he will no longer abduct little boys and murder their mothers.”

“You are sounding very bloodthirsty, my dear,” William Sleeman remarked.

He had come back into the room without Brucena being aware of it and she gave a little start as he spoke.

“I am sure Ian is telling you that which is best forgotten.”

Brucena thought that there was a note of reproof in her cousin’s voice and she said quickly,

“That is exactly what Ian was saying. But you can understand that I am very curious.”

“An emotion that should certainly be discouraged where we are concerned,” William Sleeman said. “I want to talk to Ian and I am going to give you exactly twenty minutes alone with him. Then I suggest, my dear, that you go to bed.”

“Oh, Cousin William! That is not fair,” Brucena objected. “Twenty minutes when I have waited four days – or is it four centuries – for him!”

“Twenty minutes,” William Sleeman said firmly and left them alone.

Brucena turned to Ian, a question on her lips.

He took her in his arms, drew her close and declared,

“Why waste time in talking when I want to kiss you more than I have ever wanted anything in my whole life?”

Before she could reply, he kissed her until everything seemed to disappear but him.

She felt as if again he carried her into the sunshine and the light and they were both enveloped in a glory that is part of the Divine.

She no longer felt human, afraid or anxious, she only knew that with Ian’s arms round her she was immortal and so was he.

In her heart was a rapture that was so spiritual and so perfect that they themselves were part of the perfection of it.

Only when Ian raised his lips from hers did Brucena say, her voice seeming to come from a very long way away,

“I – love you! I love you – and I still cannot – believe that this has happened to me so – suddenly.”

“I found myself thinking the same thing the last few days,” Ian told her. “And yet, as Azim and I climbed cliffs, forded rivers and hid at night in mango groves, I felt all the time that you were beside me, guiding me and helping me and, however dangerous anything was, we passed through it because you were there.”

“Did you – really feel – like that?”

“It is impossible to explain what a difference you have made to me. Always before I have been very much alone and I believed that was how I wanted my life to be, self-sufficient, dependent on nothing and nobody but myself. Now everything has changed because I met one beautiful young woman who looked at me with angry eyes.”

“I was angry,” Brucena admitted, “but it did not last. I wanted you to – approve of me.”

“Now you know I not only approve but think you are the most wonderful person that ever existed and there need be no more misunderstandings between us.”

“How could there be?” Brucena asked. “Please – please – take care of yourself, Ian. If anything – happened to – you – ”

She gave a little shudder.

“You have to learn to trust me,” he murmured.

“You know I – want to do – that, but it is very – difficult when I am so – afraid for you.”

He kissed her and she was able to say nothing more.

Then reluctantly he took his arms from her and said,

“My Commanding Officer is waiting for me.”

“It is unfair of William to take you away.”

“I think he has something important to tell me and I have many things to tell him,” Ian replied. “You will have to learn to be a soldier’s wife, my darling.”

He pulled her back into his arms and a little later, thinking over what he had said, Brucena felt that Ian had spoken seriously and with intent.

As a soldier’s wife she had to learn that his duty came first.

*

Lying in the small narrow karpoy, or native bed, in a room that was little more than a square wooden box, Brucena told herself that, although she might protest, she was only too willing to do anything that was required so long as she could be married to Ian.

She had often thought of the man she might marry, but always he had been anonymous, a blank face even in her imagination.

Now Ian filled her world.

She knew that her dreams had come true and all her ideals had materialised in one man.

‘I must have known instinctively that he was somewhere in the world waiting for me,’ she told herself, ‘and that was why I could never contemplate even for a moment, whatever Amelie might have said, marrying Lord Rawthorne or anyone like him. I suppose in my heart I have never wanted position or power or wealth and I have always known that love was the only thing in the world worth having.’

She thought that William would have claimed that it was part of her romantic Cornish blood and the Fairy stories of Cornish heroes that her mother had told her when she was a little girl.

Deep in her subconscious they had remained, so that the men she met and the man she thought she might meet sometime in her life were measured against the Knights, the Saints and the warring Kings who were an integral part of Cornish history.

‘I suppose one day,’ she thought, ‘Cousin William will be considered a hero for what he has done for the suppression of Thuggee, but perhaps Ian will play another courageous part in the development of India.’

She was wondering what that could be when she fell asleep and, when she next opened her eyes, it was morning.

She sprang out of bed quickly because she knew that the quicker she dressed the sooner she would see Ian and she wanted that more than anything else.

Now that he had joined them they set off to Saugor as soon as it was possible.

When they reached the white bungalow surrounded with its flowers, to be greeted by the smiles and salaams of the servants, Brucena felt that it really was like coming home.

Nasir, Cousin William’s servant, had already suggested that the cook at the bungalow would, he was sure, be happy to adopt Azim,

Apparently he was very devoted to his wife, who had given him two sons and three daughters, all of whom were now old enough to leave home.

“She is still a young woman,” Nasir had said, “but she can have no more children. It is a great sadness”

“I will certainly talk to them about it,” William Sleeman promised. “I like them both and think that Azim would be very happy with them.”

Brucena felt almost wistfully that he was such a dear little boy that she would like to adopt him herself. But she knew that such an idea would present innumerable difficulties and she was wise enough to know that he would be happiest with people of his own Caste.

He had enjoyed the journey back to Saugor because not only did he not have to talk, although Brucena had discovered that Ian had carried him a great part of the way from Gwalior, but he was allowed to sit on the box of their carriage, where he could watch the coachman drive.

This not only delighted the child but also left them with more room in the carriage for Amelie.

Brucena also helped solve this problem by pointing out that she would like above all else to ride as Ian intended to do.

A horse was found for her and they rode either beside the carriage to keep out the dust or a little ahead of it, while the detachment of Cavalry rode behind them.

When they arrived, even though it had been a joy to ride with Ian, Brucena was glad to be back.

Her own comfortable bedroom seemed very attractive after the austerity of the Dak bungalows and the maid who always attended her had everything ready, including a bath, which was a luxury that was not afforded to travellers.

Wearing one of her prettiest gowns, she went into the sitting room, excited at the thought of being with Ian having learnt that Amelie did not intend to join them at dinner but had retired to bed.

To her joy Ian was alone in the sitting room, looking extremely smart in the evening clothes of the Bengal Lancers and, when his eyes met hers, she could not stop herself from running towards him.

He put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm’s length, saying as he did so,

“You look very beautiful, my darling, but then you always do.”

“I hope you will always think so,” Brucena said. “And shall I tell you how handsome I think you are or will you grow conceited?”

“I am the most conceited man in the world because you love me,” Ian answered.

As he spoke, he pulled her close against him and she lifted her face to his, longing for the touch of his lips on hers.

He looked down at her for a long moment before he kissed her with long slow passionate kisses that made her heart beat tumultuously.

She wanted to be close to him and for him to go on kissing her, but to her surprise he took his arms from her and drew her to the sofa.

As they sat down, he began,

“I have something to tell you, my darling.”

“What is it?”

She knew by his tone that it was something serious and she felt some of the rapture that his kisses had evoked in her ebb away as if she had been touched by a cold wind.

“Early tomorrow morning,” Ian answered quietly, “your cousin and I have to leave.”

“To – leave?” Brucena repeated. “But you have only just – returned. You cannot go – away so soon!”

“We have to.”

“Why? Why? Surely Cousin William understands that you need rest?”

Ian looked away from her and she knew that he was choosing his words and wondering how much he could tell her.

Then, perceptively, because they were so close that she could almost read his thoughts, she said,

“It has something to do with the Thugs. Something you found out when you were in Gwalior.”

“I do not want you to ask me questions.”

“I have to know! That is the truth, is it not?” Brucena persisted. “You brought Cousin William some information that is valuable and he has to act on it at once.”

Ian smiled.

“You are not only beautiful but very intelligent, my darling, something that one day I may find of great use to me. But now I just want you to trust me.”

“Then trust me,” Brucena challenged him. “And tell me!”

“If I did that, I would be betraying secrets that are not mine alone,” Ian answered. “I can only tell you that it is of great importance that we should act at once and I must leave you to imagine the rest.”

With a superhuman effort Brucena bit back the protests that rose to her lips.

She was sure, without Ian filling in the details, that when in disguise in Gwalior he had discovered the whereabouts of a number of Thugs who were still in their own territory.

It was obvious that they must be caught before they could murder any more unsuspecting travellers and to delay might give them a chance to escape to Gwalior, where neither Ian nor Cousin William could follow them.

Because she loved Ian and wanted to please him, Brucena forced herself to say,

“I – understand.”

Ian’s expression was very tender as he replied,

“I knew I could rely on you and, when this is over and I come back, I promise you the first thing we are going to do, you and I, is to plan our Wedding. I do not intend to wait long for you to become my wife.”

He saw the light that came into Brucena’s eyes and thought that no woman could look more radiant or more glorious.

Then he kissed her until they heard footsteps outside the door and William Sleeman came in dressed for dinner.

*

Because they had said ‘goodbye’ the night before, Brucena, who was awake before dawn broke, did not leave her room when she heard Ian and Cousin William ride off the following morning.

She had known how serious their mission was when they took all the available mounted irregulars with them, leaving behind only four Sepoy infantrymen in the charge of a Corporal to guard the bungalow.

When her father in Scotland had told her about what he had called ‘Cousin William’s Private Army’, Brucena had thought that it must be a very adequate force.

On arrival in India, however, Brucena had learnt that the area under his jurisdiction was twice as large as England, Scotland and Wales combined.

Now she told herself miserably that he and Ian had not nearly enough men with them to destroy a hostile force.

Supposing the Thugs outnumbered them to such an extent that they were all killed in the conflict?

The mere idea of Ian being strangled by a yellow scarf and then disappearing never to be found or heard of again was a horror that seemed to impinge on Brucena so vividly that she wanted to scream and run from her bedroom and beg Ian not to leave her.

Yet she knew that he would be shocked by and contemptuous of such weakness, so instead she lay in bed listening for the sounds of his departure, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails hurt the palms of her hands.

There was the jingle of the harness, the sounds of fidgeting hoofs on the hard ground, and a number of low-voiced commands.

Then she guessed that the moment had come when Cousin William and Ian walked from the bungalow to mount their horses.

There was the first light of dawn on the Eastern horizon, while the last glimmer of the evening stars were fading into the sable darkness.

Then they were riding away and she listened until finally there was silence except for the crow of a cock as the day broke.

*

“Don’t look so worried, ma chérie,” Amelie admonished Brucena later in the morning.

The sun was beginning to grow strong and the gardeners were spraying the grass and flowers with water.

“How can you be so calm – and unperturbed?” Brucena asked resentfully.

“My William is a very clever man,” Amelie replied in French, “and Ian Hadleigh is clever too. They have already outwitted, arrested or exterminated hundreds of Thugs and I cannot believe that this expedition will be any different from the others.”

Brucena gave a little laugh.

“The only difference is that I am involved in it now and that, as far as I am concerned, makes it more terrifying and – perhaps more important them any expeditions they have taken in the past.”

“You will grow used to it,” Amelie promised her.

“I – hope so.”

But Brucena’s tone of voice was not optimistic.

It took her thoughts off what might be happening to Ian when Azim came from the servants’ quarters to bring her some flowers. .

He handed them to her politely with a little bow that his new foster parents must have taught him and, when she knelt down to put her arms round him, he smiled at her with the same entrancing expression that had attracted her on the first day they had met.

“You are happy?” she asked him in Urdu.

He nodded and brought out from some part of his new clothes the little ball of pink silk that she had given him and a wooden whistle, which Indians often carved for their children.

He was obviously delighted with his possessions and showed them off, blowing the whistle at least a dozen times. Then, seeing one of the gardeners working below them, he ran from the verandah` to show him his toys.

“He is a dear little boy,” Brucena enthused.

“Having him here has made the cook’s wife a very happy woman,” Amelie replied. “She came to me in tears of joy this morning to tell me that, because they now have Azim, her husband no longer wishes to take another wife.”

“I should have thought that with the sons and daughters he has already, he has quite enough,” Brucena remarked.

“A large family is a sign of prosperity,” Amelie told her, “and our cook is very conscious of his importance in being in William’s employment.”

Brucena laughed.

“Now I know that when I count the number of children my staff have, I shall be able to gauge Ian’s social standing!”

“Perhaps one day you will have a Government House to administer and that means hundreds of servants at your command.’

“Are you still ambitious for me?” Brucena asked. “There is no need, Amelie. I am so happy that I could not be any happier if Ian was made Governor-General.”

“I still hope that you will be ‘my Lady’ one way or another,” Amelie said, as if she was determined to stick to her convictions.

Even as she spoke there was a sound of approaching horses and, as Brucena looked at Amelie, almost simultaneously their lips formed the same words,

“Lord Rawthorne!”

Brucena had completely forgotten him and his promise to visit them.

In her anxiety over Ian and the joy of his safe return the previous evening, Lord Rawthorne, or anyone else for that matter, had ceased to exist.

Now round the corner of the drive came a carriage with a familiar figure inside it and behind was an escort of Gwalior Cavalry.

‘What a nuisance,’ Brucena thought. ‘Why does he have to turn up now? Especially with Cousin William away.’

She knew that he would be difficult and she wondered quickly whether it would be possible for both her and Amelie to retire to bed and have the servants tell him that they were indisposed.

Before she could come to any decision, it was far too late.

Lord Rawthorne had joined them on the verandah and was making himself what he believed to be agreeable with his usual self-confidence combined with a touch of arrogance.

“I deeply regret, my Lord, that my husband has been called away and therefore cannot receive you,” Amelie told him.

“I am sorry to miss him,” Lord Rawthorne replied, “but I am quite content to find that you and Miss Nairn are still here.”

As he spoke, his eyes were on Brucena and it was quite obvious, without his saying so, that he was interested only in her presence.

She had feared that he would be difficult and now she found that she was not mistaken.

He paid her fulsome compliments, regardless of the fact that Amelie was listening and, when they retired to dress for dinner, Brucena urged her,

“For Goodness sake don’t leave me alone with him!”

“I think you would be wise to tell him that you are engaged,” Amelie suggested. “That should at least dampen his ardour a little.”

“I doubt it, but I have every intention of doing so the moment the opportunity arises.”

She did not add that she was rather dreading the moment because she was not certain how Lord Rawthorne would react.

All through dinner he never took his eyes off her and it was with the greatest difficulty that she managed to keep the conversation going between the three of them.

“We will leave you to your port, my Lord,” Amelie declared as the meal finished and she rose from the table.

However Lord Rawthorne replied,

“I have no wish to be left alone. I will join you ladies in the sitting room and drink my port there, although actually a glass of brandy would be more to my liking.”

The Head Servant, who spoke and understood English, followed them into the sitting room, carrying a decanter of brandy, which he set down beside Lord Rawthorne’s chair.

Brucena glanced at the clock wondering for how long they must make desultory conversation before she could claim that she wished to go to bed.

Then to Brucena’s relief, Amelie decided, from the expression in Lord Rawthorne’s eyes as he looked at Brucena, that the time had come to say something.

Amelie then said,

“It is at the moment a secret, my Lord, but I feel that as you are a friend you would like to give Brucena your good wishes as she is engaged to be married!”

If Amelie had intended to startle Lord Rawthorne, she certainly succeeded.

He stiffened and there was an almost ferocious note in his voice as he demanded,

“Engaged to be married? To whom?”

“To Major Hadleigh,” Amelie replied. “My husband is delighted that she should have found someone we are both very fond of.”

“You are to marry Hadleigh?”

The question was directed at Brucena and, feeling that his tone was impertinent, she raised her chin as she replied,

“As Mrs. Sleeman says, for the moment it is a secret, but we shall announce it as soon as I have written to my father and Ian has informed his relatives.”

“When was this arrangement made? Why did I not know?”

The questions were sharp and seemed almost to echo round the room.

Brucena contrived to look surprised as she replied,

“As you have just been informed – it is a secret.”

There was no doubt that Lord Rawthorne was furious and Brucena was thinking that this would be a good time to retire when a servant came into the room to speak in a low voice to Amelie.

She rose from her chair, saying,

“I will not be a moment, but there is a man who wishes to see William and in his absence I have to take a message.”

She went from the room before Brucena had a chance to follow her.

The moment they were alone Lord Rawthorne started again,

“It’s intolerable! I have no intention of allowing you to marry Hadleigh!”

“I don’t understand – what you are saying,” Brucena replied.

“You understand perfectly well,” he answered. “You know that I fell in love with you the moment I saw you. It was only because you left Gwalior in such a hurry that I was not able to talk to you as I had intended to do.”

“It is too late now to say anything that – you might regret,” Brucena murmured.

“I should certainly not regret anything I said to you,” Lord Rawthorne said. “I understand now why you were keeping me at arm’s length, but nothing has happened that is not irrevocable.”

“Again I don’t understand what you are trying to say.”

“Then let me spell it out to you,” Lord Rawthorne said. “I want you and you will marry me!”

“That is certainly something you should not have said,” Brucena replied. “I am engaged to Ian Hadleigh – and I intend to marry him.”

“And I tell you I will do everything to prevent it! Good God, can you really prefer that obscure unimportant Thug-catcher to me?”

If he had not spoken so seriously and so violently, it might have been amusing, but, as it was, it flashed through Brucena’s mind that he might in some way be able to hurt Ian.

If he was resentful, he might disparage him to his superior Officers and complaints from distinguished personages had in the past often been instrumental in ruining a man’s career and her father had told her that.

It suddenly struck her that she must be very tactful in order to protect Ian and she wished that Amelie had said nothing but had left Lord Rawthorne to find out later that she was not free.

However the damage, if it was damage, was done and she must now be astute enough to prevent his Lordship from taking revenge on the man she loved.

“I-I feel I should – say,” she said in a quiet, hesitating little voice, “how very – honoured I am that – your Lordship should have thought of me in the – manner you are indicating – but it never struck me for – one moment that that might be the case.”

“You must have been aware of my intentions,” he carried on.

Brucena smiled.

“Your Lordship has a reputation, which you must know well, of being very successful as a – ladies’ man.’ I could not guess for one moment that where I was concerned you were in any way – serious.”

As she spoke, she knew that the flattery had to some extent alleviated his anger and, after a moment’s pause, he said,

“I admit that there has been a little gossip about me in the past, but I knew from the moment I saw you that you were different.”

“How could I be?” Brucena asked, spreading out her hands in a helpless gesture.

“I would like to know the answer to that question myself,” Lord Rawthorne countered. “I only know that you attract me in a manner that is different from anything I have felt before. The more I see you, the more I fall in love with you.”

He paused before he added,

“I meant to tell you the moment you came to Gwalior. I thought it would be very romantic there, perhaps in the exotic setting of His Highness’s Palace. But you left with such precipitate haste that I had no chance to do anything but follow you.”

“I am sorry – so very sorry,” Brucena muttered.

“Are you sorry?”

There was a meaning that she had not intended behind his question and so she responded quickly,

“I am sorry that you should have gone to so much trouble on my behalf – I would not wish you in any way to be unhappy.”

“That is something I do not intend to be,” he said with a sudden resolute note in his voice that frightened her.

Then to her relief Amelie came back into the room.

“It was nothing very important,” she said. “Just a message that I have to convey to my husband on his return.”

She glanced from Brucena to Lord Rawthorne as she spoke and she sensed a feeling of tension in the air.

“I am sure, my Lord,” she suggested, “that you would like to retire early tonight. Tomorrow, if you are still with us, I would be glad to give a dinner party for you. We have various neighbours, who I am sure would be very honoured to meet you.”

“That would be delightful, Mrs. Sleeman,” Lord Rawthorne replied.

But his eyes were still on Brucena as he spoke and both she and Amelie knew that his thoughts were elsewhere.

They said their ‘goodnights’ and went to their own rooms.

Brucena did not undress immediately because she felt worried and anxious, thinking again that Amelie had perhaps done the wrong thing in telling Lord Rawthorne about her engagement to Ian Hadleigh.

She wondered how she could persuade him not to be so angry and bitter that he would make trouble.

‘He is a very unpredictable man and I feel in some ways a dangerous one,’ she thought to herself.

She felt so agitated that she did not call her maid, but went out through her bedroom window onto the verandah.

It was separate from the verandah in the front of the bungalow where they usually sat and was on the side of the house, running along the East wall.

Brucena walked on the wooden boards in her satin evening slippers, which made no sound. As she reached the far end of the verandah where it ended against the North wall of the bungalow, she heard Lord Rawthorne’s voice.

It surprised her because she thought that he would be in the front of the house where his bedroom was situated.

She stopped and then she heard him say,

“I understand that I must congratulate you on the splendid way you have assisted Captain Sleeman in his gigantic task of suppressing the Thugs.”

A man’s voice replied, but Brucena could not hear exactly what he said and she wondered who was speaking until Lord Rawthorne went on,

“It is obvious that you will not be a Corporal for long. Do you enjoy being in the Army?”

“Yes, Lord Sahib. It is very interesting.”

Now Brucena knew who Lord Rawthorne was speaking to. It was the Corporal who had been left in charge of the Sepoys.

She knew him to be a keen young Indian who William had said would look after them well in his absence.

“I admire Captain Sleeman very much indeed,” Lord Rawthorne continued. “I know everyone, including the Governor-General, is very impressed with what he and his men like you have achieved in this neighbourhood.”

Brucena was amazed as she listened.

Why was Lord Rawthorne making such a fuss of the Corporal?

It seemed strangely out of character.

She had noticed when they were at Gwalior that he treated the native servants as if they had no importance as individuals and were there only to obey his orders.

“You must be sorry to miss this expedition that Captain Sleeman has just gone on,” Lord Rawthorne was saying. “An ambitious young man like you always likes to be in the fight or should I say in at the kill?”

There was a murmur of agreement from the Corporal and then Lord Rawthorne went on,

“Never mind, I am sure that you will not lose any priority through being left behind and I will certainly tell the Captain and other superior Officials that you have performed your duties in an exemplary manner.”

“Thank you, Lord Sahib.”

“When do you expect Captain Sleeman back?”

“I do not know, Lord Sahib.”

“How long will it take him to reach the place he has gone?”

“It’s not very far, Lord Sahib.”

“Yes, of course! I was told the name. Now let me think, I find Indian places are rather difficult to remember.”

“Selopa, Lord Sahib.”

“Yes, yes, of course. How stupid of me. Selopa! Well, I shall wait with impatience for his return as I am sure you will, Corporal.”

“Yes, Lord Sahib.”

“Goodnight, Corporal.”

“Goodnight, Lord Sahib.”

Brucena held her breath.

She realised that Lord Rawthorne had obtained the information he required from the Corporal and it was information that she herself did not know.

Selopa. That was where Ian had gone. But why was Lord Rawthorne so interested?

It seemed to her so strange that her mind was racing and trying to solve a puzzle that she knew instinctively was of significance.

She went back to her room to find her maid waiting,

“I did not expect you to come to bed so early Memsahib,” she said apologetically, “or I would have been waiting for you.”

“It’s all right,” Brucena replied. “I am not quite ready to undress. Will you fetch Nasir to me? I want to speak to him immediately.”

“I fetch him, Memsahib.”

The maid disappeared and Brucena waited.

A few seconds later Nasir came to the door and she told him to come in.

He was a small, wiry little man and she knew that Cousin William thought him to be very intelligent.

“Listen, Nasir,” Brucena began, “I want you to find out something and be very careful so that no one realises what you are about.”

She saw by the expression in his eyes that Nasir was alert and attentive.

“I have a feeling, although I may be wrong,” Brucena continued, “that the Lord Sahib, Lord Rawthorne, may despatch a messenger from here tonight on an errand. If he does – he will send one of his men secretly and with the intention that none of us shall know that he has gone.”

She paused before she added,

“That must not happen, Nasir.”

“I will be watching, Memsahib.”

“You will be able to do that for me?”

“Yes, Memsahib.”

“If any of Lord Rawthorne’s servants or one of the soldiers who came with him from Gwalior should leave, you must come and tell me at once – do you understand?”

“Yes, Memsahib.”

“Just in case there is any gossip,” Brucena went on, “tell anyone who is interested that I sent for you because I wanted to talk about Azim.”

“No one will question me, Memsahib,” Nasir informed her. “But if they ask, that is what I tell them.”

“Thank you, Nasir. I know I can trust you, but please come and wake me if anybody leaves the bungalow.”

“I will, Memsahib.”

Nasir salaamed and left the room and Brucena allowed her maid to help her undress.

Then she climbed into bed.

She might easily be mistaken, she thought, as she lay back against her pillows, but the suspicions that she had felt after hearing Lord Rawthorne speak to the Corporal seemed to grow and grow.

Now they were like a cloud, dark and menacing, not to her, but to Ian. Yet she told herself that she was being very foolish.

Surely Lord Rawthorne would not harm Ian. Could he be unsporting enough to contemplate anything underhanded just because he desired her?

Still, he had said with an undeniable determination,

“You will marry me!”

And added a moment later that he would do anything to prevent her marriage to Ian.

What could he do?

She could not believe that the tentative suspicions already in her mind were not just fantasies, but they were there however hard she tried to sweep them away.

She must have dozed a little before she heard her door open and instantly sat up in bed.

Nasir moved across the room so silently that he was beside her without her hearing a single footfall.

Then in a whisper he said,

“You right, Memsahib, one of the Lord Sahib’s personal servants is saddling a horse.”

“Then we must leave too,” Brucena told him swiftly. “We have to warn Captain Sleeman and Major Hadleigh. Do you understand?’

“We, Memsahib?”

“You and I, Nasir. As soon as this man has left, saddle two horses. Wait a little way down the drive behind the shrubs. You know the way to Selopa?”

“Yes, Memsahib.”

“And you know where we will find the Captain Sahib?”

“Yes, Memsahib.”

“Then hurry!”

Nasir left the room as silently as he had entered it and Brucena began to dress.

She put on her lightest riding habit and her boots and then, carrying her broad-brimmed hat in her hand, she crept along the passage to Amelie’s room.

She did not knock but opened the door quietly.

As she did, Amelie asked,

“Who is it?”

“It’s Brucena.”

Amelia sat up against her pillows.

“What is it, dearest?”

Brucena went close to her before she spoke. The moonlight shining through the curtains over the window made it easy to see the way.

“I have to go to warn Cousin William and Ian that they are in – grave danger,” she said. “I think, although I am not certain, that a man has been sent to alert the Thugs they are seeking. They might in consequence take them off their guard and – kill them. I have to tell them, Amelie, what is happening.”

“Ma chérie, how do you know this? How is it possible?”

“There is no time to tell you, but I promise you there is every reason for me to be afraid. Now listen, and this is vitally important, Lord Rawthorne must not know that I have left the Villa.”

“But why? How is he concerned in this?”

“He is very much concerned with it, at least I think so,” Brucena replied. “So tomorrow, Amelie, you must say that I am unwell and I have a fever. Make my maid pretend that I am ill in bed. Be careful to send my food into my bedroom. She can throw it away somehow, but do not let anyone else in the whole house suspect that I have left.”

Any other woman would have agreed but protested, but Amelie had not been married to William Sleeman without learning to be prepared for any sort of emergency and to ask few questions.

“Who is going with you?”

“Nasir,” Brucena replied.

“You will be safe with him. I only hope that William will not be angry that I am letting you go.”

Brucena smiled as she bent to kiss Amelie’s cheek.

“You would not be able to stop me and – I will be back as soon as I can.”

She left the room by climbing over the side of the verandah to find Nasir waiting down the drive and holding two horses behind a high concealing bank of shrubs.

He helped her into the saddle without speaking and they rode off, moving slowly over the soft ground so that their horses’ hoofs would not be heard.

Only when they were clear of the bungalow and out in the open countryside did their pace quicken.

The moonlight turned everything to silver and made the way as clear as if it was daylight.

For the first time Brucena felt a sudden exhilaration sweep through her.

She was helping Ian and she knew that her love for him and his for her would enable her to save him and to prevent the destruction of his and Cousin William’s carefully laid plans.

Afterwards Brucena wondered at the way that Nasir never faltered and they hardly checked their horses from the moment they started until they reached their destination.

They had galloped a long way before Brucena asked,

“How far is Selopa now, Nasir?”

“Not far, way we travel,” he answered.

Brucena looked at him, waiting for an explanation and he said,

“Captain Sahib go by main road so not to attract attention, just like ordinary patrol, inspection of prison and meet District Officers. No hurry, no one think anything strange.”

“Of course I understand,” Brucena replied and they hurried on.

She had the feeling that Nasir was taking her through the wildest most uninhabited part of the country, for they seldom crossed a road and there were few little villages.

They moved through an empty moonlit world that she would have found very beautiful if she had not been driven by an urgency that made her unable to think of anything except that Ian was in danger.

Supposing she was too late? Supposing the man that Lord Rawthorne had sent, she was sure that he had sent him to the Thugs, reached there before she did and took Cousin William and Ian by surprise?

She had no idea exactly how many soldiers they had with them, but she remembered with a shudder the story of how Cousin William had at one time captured a gang of over three hundred Thugs congregated in one place.

If there were that many now, what chance would they have?

On and on they galloped, Nasir leading the way with the horses responding to everything they asked of them and Brucena was glad that Cousin William had bought good horseflesh.

It was his one extravagance and she knew that in this instance it was most certainly proving its worth.

At last, after they had ridden for what seemed a very long time, Nasir drew in his reins and proceeded a little more slowly.

He was looking about him and Brucena guessed without asking questions that he was searching for a place where Cousin William and Ian would have camped for the night.

She tried to imagine what their plan would have been. Surely it would be one of surprise, but how were they likely to surprise Thugs in the act of strangling travellers if they rode up to them as Cavalrymen with the irregulars carrying their lances?

‘Perhaps I have made a fool of myself,’ Brucena thought suddenly and despairingly. ‘He may in fact be sleeping in a Barracks somewhere, having been entertained in the Officers’ Mess.’

But she knew in her heart that this was unlikely and even as she puzzled over it, Nasir suddenly dismounted and signalled for her to do the same.

He did not speak and Brucena remembered that voices carried at night and were therefore likely to reveal their whereabouts.

She slipped from her saddle and followed Nasir, who was leading his horse into a thicket of trees.

When she joined him, she found that he was tying its reins to a tree trunk and she did the same with hers.

Nasir put his fingers to his lips and then started to move ahead. Brucena, lifting the skirt of her habit, followed him not asking where they were going, but trying to move as silently as he was doing, knowing that her heart was beating unaccountably fast.

They began to descend through a wood that had a thick undergrowth beneath its trees. It forced them to move slowly until suddenly below them Brucena saw a large party of travellers camped for the night.

There were horses with their legs hobbled so that they could not move away, a camel was squatting on the ground with its head held high and all round it appeared to be a large number of anonymous bundles that she knew were men covered with blankets and cloaks.

A little apart and nearer to the trees there were two tents, small and low.

They were the type used by travellers of a certain class who felt themselves too grand to sleep beside their men but were not important enough to have the large imposing tents erected for rich merchants or Sahibs.

Nasir stood for some time without moving and then, dropping to his knees, he started to crawl towards the tents. He signalled to Brucena to follow him and she crouched down.

She wanted to ask him what he was doing.

The people below them were travellers and certainly not soldiers.

Then it suddenly struck her that, if Cousin William and Ian intended to catch the Thugs red-handed, they might present themselves as victims. They would be the travellers and they would be the baited trap!

She felt her heart give a lurch of fear. Then, as Nasir went on crawling downhill with a quietness and stealth that came from long experience, she knew how careful she must be not to be heard.

She felt as if every leaf she knelt on made a crack like a rifle shot and every twig snapped like the roar of a cannon.

Then, almost before she realised it, they were within a few feet of the tents.

Nasir turned his head and held up his hand. It was a signal, she guessed, for her to stay where she was.

He realised that she understood and slowly, very slowly, he crept forward and lifted the bottom of the tent in front of him.

The moonlight was somewhat obscured by the branches of the trees and yet Brucena saw that as sinuously as a snake he crept into the tent and now she was alone.

She listened for the sound of voices, but could hear nothing.

Then she began to wonder frantically whether he had gone to the wrong place and perhaps suspected of being a thief he had been killed.

Then she saw his face appear from under the tent. He smiled at her and beckoned.

As she moved forward, he crept towards the other tent again lifting the bottom sheet to vanish inside it.

Frightened but obedient, Brucena crawled the short distance from the undergrowth to the tent.

As she reached it a hand came out towards her and her heart seemed to turn three somersaults.

It was Ian’s hand.

He pulled her inside and a second later she was in his arms.

Then he was kissing her until she forgot everything except that she was with him again and she knew that she need not be afraid because she was against his heart

He released her lips and in a voice so low that she had to strain her ears to hear it he asked,

“How could you be so incredibly brave to come to warn me?”

She felt, as he spoke, that his kisses had taken everything from her mind except the wonder and thrill of him.

Then, as quietly as he had spoken, she began to explain what she had overheard and what she suspected.

“It was very wonderful of you, my darling. But I do not want you here in danger. And if there is time, I think Nasir should take you away again.”

“No, no!” Brucena whispered, “I will not – leave.”

She put her arms round his neck, saying,

“I am not afraid now that – I am with you. I am only afraid – when you are not here.”

“I think you should go back,” Ian said, “but your cousin must decide. Nasir is telling him now why you have come.”

As he spoke, there was a sudden cry like a word of command and followed by a pandemonium of noise.

In an instant Ian had pulled open the flap in the front of his tent and moved outside.

Brucena gave a little cry, which stopped in her throat.

Then she was alone, listening to terrifying sounds that were, she knew, those of life or death.

But for whom?

Chapter Seven

“Goodbye, dearest Amelie. I cannot thank you enough for all – you have done for me.”

“I shall miss you terribly,” Amelie replied, “as William will miss Ian, but we know how happy you both will be.”

As the two women embraced inside the railway carriage and William Sleeman, standing on the platform, held out his hand to Ian Hadleigh.

“There is no need for me to tell you to take care of Brucena,” he said, “and, although things will not be the same here without you, I know that you have a great future ahead of you.”

“If I have, I owe it all to you,” Ian replied, “and may I say in all sincerity that I have never enjoyed anything more than the years we have been together.”

“At least we have a record of success behind us,” William Sleeman replied. “There is little to do now except mop up the few problems that remain. But I am quite certain that the Thugs will have lost heart.”

Inside the carriage Brucena picked up her Wedding bouquet, which had been laid on the seat and pressed it into Amelie’s hands.

“In case I am not able to give you flowers when your baby arrives” she said, “I would like to feel that these are the first that he or she will ever receive.”

Amelie laughed a little tremulously.

“It’s a sweet thought and I shall press many of these flowers in a scrapbook so that I can show them to my child when he is grown up.”

Both women smiled shyly as if they felt a little embarrassed at being so sentimental.

Then William Sleeman called from the door,

“The guard is asking if he can start the train, Amelie, and unless you want to leave with the honeymoon couple, I suggest you finish your goodbyes!”

Amelie kissed Brucena once more,

“You look lovely, dearest,” she smiled, “and whatever you may say, I know it will not be many years before you live in a Government House of your own and are addressed as ‘my Lady’.”

Because it was now such an old joke, Brucena did not protest. She only laughed and, as Amelie was helped out of the carriage, she kissed her cousin.

“Goodbye, Cousin William,” she said. “‘Thank you’ is a most inadequate phrase. I only know, as I felt when I arrived in India, that it is the most exciting marvellous country – in the whole world.”

She glanced at her husband as she spoke and added,

“Especially as it gave me Ian.”

William turned to the guard who was hovering near them.

“You have my permission,” he said, “to start the train.”

“Thank you, Captain Sahib,” the guard replied and, putting his whistle into his mouth, he started to unfurl his flag.

The Sepoys were holding back the excited crowds, who were watching Brucena and Ian’s departure.

A bride and bridegroom in any country are always an attraction and Brucena’s going away gown of pale pink with a bonnet trimmed with ribbons of the same colour had evoked cries of delight from the Indian women in their colourful saris.

There was a burst of steam from the engine and, as Ian stepped into the carriage and closed the door and their servants in the next compartment shut theirs, a cheer went up from all those who were watching.

As the train moved away from the platform, Brucena leant out the window with a suspicion of tears in her eyes as she waved goodbye to Cousin William and Amelie.

Only as the wheels quickened and the smoke began to obscure their view did Ian draw her into the carriage and close the window.

Then, as she stood looking at him swaying a little with the movement of the train, he drew her into his arms and kissed her.

It was not a long kiss, because as they gathered speed they were forced to sit down, but it brought the colour to Brucena’s cheeks and a light to her eyes.

“We are – married!” she said in a low voice. “We are – really married!”

“Were you afraid that something would stop us at the last minute,” Ian quizzed her.

“I am never sure of anything where you are concerned,” she replied. “How could I ever have guessed, when I was so afraid of what your next exploit with Cousin William might be, that you would be offered this wonderful position on the Governor-General’s staff?”

“You can thank your cousin for that,” Ian replied. “His report was so glowing that no Governor-General, especially Lord William Bentinck, who was particularly interested in our achievements, could have ignored it.”

“Whatever Cousin William said, I am sure that none of it was exaggerated.”

Ian smiled and put his arms round her as he said,

“I am afraid, darling, that you are somewhat prejudiced in my favour, but that is exactly how I want it to be.”

With his free hand he undid the ribbons that were tied under her chin, took off her bonnet and threw it onto an empty seat.

Then, when she thought that he was about to kiss her, he sat looking at her until he said quietly,

“I do not believe that anyone can be so beautiful. Actually I thought that when we first met in a certain railway carriage.”

“We started our acquaintanceship in one and now we are starting our marriage in one!” Brucena cried. “I feel that special quirk of Fate has a lesson somewhere, but I am not quite certain what it means.”

“It means that I love you and you are my wife. But because you are so unbelievably lovely, I am not certain that I have been wise in accepting a position on the Governor-General’s staff.”

Brucena looked at him enquiringly and he explained.

“If I catch you looking at another man or listening to the compliments you will inevitably receive, I swear I will take you back to Saugor and we will stay there for the rest of our lives!”

“It would not matter to me where we were as long as I was with you,” Brucena replied.

Then, because there was a very moving note of sincerity in her voice, Ian kissed her and it was impossible to say anything more.

*

Only later did Brucena have time to think of how her life had changed overnight and not only because she had married Ian.

She was to learn how important her part had been in riding with Nasir to Selopa to warn Cousin William of Lord Rawthorne’s treachery.

She had been right in suspecting that he intended to alert the Thugs whom they were out to capture.

Worse than that he had told his messenger to inform the Thugs that they must fight for their lives whoever they destroyed in the process.

It had been a direct invitation to kill and Brucena felt guilty that it was in a way her fault that he had stooped to such a disgraceful action in order to destroy the man she wanted to marry

“How could he behave in such a – criminal manner?” she had cried when she was told of Lord Rawthorne’s directions.

She had been appalled that any man especially an English Nobleman, should commit what really amounted to coldblooded murder.

Ian had put his arm round her.

“I think, my darling,” he said, “we have to be generous and accept that his passion for you totally destroyed his balance and his common sense.”

“I can think of more unpleasant words to describe his behaviour,” William Sleeman had come in drily.

“So can I,” Ian admitted, but quite frankly I think there is no point in saying so.”

Brucena looked from one man to the other in perplexity.

“Are you telling me that you are going to let Lord Rawthorne get away with this?” she asked. “Surely you will tell the Governor-General or at least you must challenge him to give you an explanation?”

William Sleeman was silent for a moment.

And then he said,

“No. Ian is right, Brucena. Nothing can be gained by making a scandal and it is far more dignified for us to pretend that we had no idea that he was involved in any way in what, thanks to you, my dear, was a most successful operation.”

“You mean – if I had not got there – before Lord Rawthorne’s man – ”

“There might have been a very different story to tell,” Ian said, as if he wished to prevent her from saying anymore. “As you know, Nasir told your cousin why you had come and he gave the arranged signal to seize the Thugs before they were ready to start work on us.”

However Brucena found that there was a great deal more to it than that.

By means of espionage in Gwalior, Ian had learnt that the two remaining leaders of the Thugs in their Province had arranged a meeting on one of the special days dedicated to the Goddess Kali.

He had discovered that this meeting was to take place in a grove that had been notorious for generations as a haunt of the Thugs, a bele or place of strangulation.

In that particular place where Brucena had joined them over several centuries hundreds, perhaps thousands, of innocent travellers had been murdered. There had been a large market in Selopa and the Thug leaders knew that because the bele was at a convenient point on the road outside the town, a party of travellers would be bound to stop there to rest before their journey home the next day.

The Thugs would hope for a large party and would be ready to demonstrate their well-tried technique with a yellow silken noose.

When the victims were dead, they would cut the bodies about with ritual gashes and bury them under the trees, thus making their obeisance to their Goddess by means of a human sacrifice, for which they would obtain great merit.

This success would be reported to all the Thugs who were left in the vicinity and would re-establish their power, which had been considerably reduced by William Sleeman’s suppression of so many followers of their cult.

It had been an act of defiance, an act that might have undone a great deal of the good work that had been achieved in the last two years.

What was more, had Lord Rawthorne’s messenger arrived before Brucena and managed to convey his information to the leader of the Thugs without William Sleeman or Ian Hadleigh being aware of it, their victory might easily have been turned into a tragic defeat.

The Thugs would have had two alternatives, one to disappear and the other to start strangling their supposed fellow travellers before Sleeman’s disguised men were ready for them.

As it was, they were taken entirely by surprise, having, owing to the cleverness of William Sleeman and Ian, already been deceived into believing that the party they had joined in the bele were bona fide travellers.

Because he felt it was only fair that Brucena should understand exactly what had happened, Cousin William had told her how before they reached Selopa they had left their horses in a place of concealment that had already been arranged.

There they had changed from their uniforms into garments worn by the local farmers of another part of the country.

Then, carrying market produce for sale, they had infiltrated into the town, bargaining for their wares and meeting again only at the end of the day.

Bringing a camel that Ian had acquired and several donkeys, they had set off along the road, talking of how much money they had made and boasting that it had been an exceedingly successful day’s marketing.

William Sleeman had drilled his men so well that from the moment they discarded their uniforms they played their parts whether they thought anyone was listening or not.

For nearly three years he had taught them that a careless word or a moment off their guard might result not only in their own deaths but the deaths of their comrades too.

When they reached the chosen bele, they argued for some time as to whether they should camp there for the night or go on farther.

There appeared to be nobody about, but there were bushes where men could have concealed themselves and the trees were thick.

They were still talking when what looked like a party of travellers, a large one, joined them.

These, they were well aware, were the Thugs.

“You are camping here?” one of them asked.

“We are trying to make up our minds,” Ian replied in fluent Urdu.

“There is room for us both,” the Thug suggested.

“We are still a long way from home.”

“We understand if you wish to proceed,” the Thug answered.

A well-trained chorus of voices asserted that they were tired and could go no farther and finally, after a great deal more argument, which Indians always enjoy, they agreed that they would all camp together.

Another smaller party of Thugs joined them and William Sleeman and Ian noticed that, after they had sat for a little while talking and exchanging stories, individuals attached themselves in a friendly manner to different men of their own party.

When finally they began to make preparations to sleep, the Thugs lay down beside their new-found companions.

Only William and Ian insisted on having tents to themselves and this was quite understandable because they were dressed as richer and more important merchants.

They had made it obvious that quite a number of the travellers were in their employment and also that they owned the camel.

William Sleeman’s instructions had been not to start the fight too soon, if that was what it was to be.

He wanted to be quite sure that all the Thugs belonging to each leader were present and he also planned, where possible, to catch them with a yellow scarf in their hands.

It would be enough to bring them to justice if they merely had a yellow scarf concealed about their person.

At the same time for the sentence to be as heavy as he wanted it to be, he had to catch a Thug in the act of committing murder, which resulted in his either being hanged or given a life sentence.

However, when he learnt from Nasir that the Thugs were to be warned that they had been tricked, there was no time to be lost

Taken completely by surprise none of the Thugs tried to escape, but fought for their lives and many died doing so.

The rest were taken to Saugor to the prison and the following week the two leaders and the most competent of the men were condemned to be hanged.

The rest were branded and the fact that such a large operation had been brought off without a single Thug escaping had such a startling effect on the local population that William Sleeman had said triumphantly,

“This is practically, if not completely, the end of my mission!”

Brucena had given a cry of sheer delight and William’s report had been carried post-haste to the Governor-General.

The immediate result was that Ian Hadleigh was offered a position on Lord William Bentinck’s staff.

It had been, he thought when he received it, almost an answer to a prayer for, while he wanted to marry Brucena immediately, there was some difficulty in finding a bungalow in the neighbourhood of Saugor that he thought was good enough for her.

He also had the feeling that after all she had been through she would find it difficult not to be increasingly anxious if he was away from her for even one night.

She would put on a brave face, he knew that already. But it was not usual for an Englishwoman, even in India, to suffer as she had suffered when he had been left behind in Gwalior and certainly not to be actually on the spot in a fight that resulted in the deaths of a large number of those involved.

She had been afraid, Ian knew, only for him.

When finally the Thugs who had survived were whining miserably for mercy as they were tied up by the jubilant Sepoys, he had gone into his tent to find Brucena crouched on the ground, her hands clasped together and her lips moving in prayer.

He would have taken her in his arms, but he realised that his native garments were stained with blood from the sword thrusts he had made at the Thugs, who had fought back with the knives that they mutilated their victims with.

Instead he merely put out his hand and said quietly,

“It’s all over, my darling, and now we can go home.”

After that, although he had not said so, he had almost desperately wanted to offer Brucena a different sort of life, even though he knew that he would never be happy anywhere other than in India.

The Governor-General’s invitation had therefore been not only opportune but very exciting.

Ian realised that it was not only an immediate advancement but the first step on the ladder that led eventually to becoming a British Resident and, if one was exceptionally lucky or clever, after that to Lieutenant-Governor of a Province.

To Brucena the only thing that mattered was that they could be married before Ian left for Calcutta.

“You will not – go without me?” she had asked anxiously.

“Do you imagine I would leave you behind?” he enquired.

There had been all the excitement of arranging the Wedding and of providing herself in a few days with a Wedding dress that she hoped Ian would think her beautiful in.

Fortunately Amelie had an evening gown, which had arrived from her father as a present, but, because she had lost her figure, it had been impossible for her to wear it.

“You must keep it until after the baby has arrived,” Brucena protested.

Amelie laughed.

“I will get Papa to send me another one. Besides what is more important than that you should be a beautiful bride for Ian? Thank Goodness I have some lace that we can easily make into a veil.”

One thing was certain, the little Church in Saugor had never seen a more beautiful bride and, when Brucena had walked up the aisle on Cousin William’s arm, she had known by the expression in Ian’s eyes that she was everything he wanted her to be.

The Marriage Service had been very moving for Brucena and she had prayed that she would make Ian happy.

She had known, because they were so closely attuned, that he was praying for the same thing.

When they had signed the Marriage Register in the Vestry and he had raised her veil in a symbolic gesture and kissed her, she had recognised that it was a kiss of dedication and that he gave her his heart and soul.

After toasts had been drunk at the bungalow, Brucena had to change hurriedly into her going away gown if they were not to miss the train.

It was to be a strange honeymoon because they would be travelling right across India to Calcutta.

Although they were starting off in a train, their journey could entail travelling in a dozen different ways.

There were very few railways as yet in India, although the British were busy constructing lines between the most important Cities.

The first day they would be able to cover only about thirty miles by train. Then they were to stay in a bungalow that had been lent them and leave two days later by road for the next stop.

To Brucena the whole idea was an enchantment that left her breathless with excitement.

It was growing late when the train stopped at the small Station where they were to leave it.

William Sleeman s friends who had lent them their bungalow were in Bombay, but their servants had brought a carriage to the Station and they collected their luggage from the guard’s van and their other belongings from the carriage.

They drove in the cool of the evening through a wooded countryside to a white bungalow built on the side of a small lake. It was surrounded with flowers and Brucena gave a cry of delight when she saw it.

Then, as the servants brought them cool drinks, they stood side by side on the verandah. There was the glory of the sunset dyeing the lake and the long sandbanks with gold.

Every tree and canebrake became the colour of a warm glowing apricot, a prelude to the swift opal twilight.

“It is so lovely” Brucena murmured.

“And so are you, my darling,” Ian replied and there was a note in his voice that made her heart beat tumultuously in her breast.

When Brucena went to her bedroom a little later, she found it attractive and very comfortable. The large bedstead in the centre of it, draped with white mosquito curtains, looked like an ancient galleon and made her blush.

She stood for a moment thinking that it was the first time that she and Ian would have together and therefore she must somehow make it personal.

She had already thought of this amidst the thrill of planning her Wedding and in her luggage packed especially for use on the journey she had included a miniature of her mother and a beautifully embroidered bedcover.

This Amelie had made of muslin ribbon and lace and it had been intended, she said, as a Christmas present for someone in Mauritius.

Instead she had given it to Brucena and with it there was a little lace pillow with love-knots in each of its four corners.

When Brucena had arranged these on the bedspread, she felt that it gave the room a touch that was a part of herself.

She also had with her a present that she thought was more precious than anything else that she had received, the carved whistle that Azim had given her just before they left.

She knew that it was his most treasured possession and she therefore must not hurt him by refusing it.

As she laid it beside her mother’s portrait, she told herself that she would keep it all her life and perhaps one day tell her children of how it came to be hers.

She looked round her with a little sigh of satisfaction. Then, because she thought that Ian would be waiting for her, she let the Indian maid help her change into her prettiest evening gown. As she had no jewellery, she arranged a white orchid in her hair.

There was an obvious look of admiration and love in his eyes when she went into the sitting room to find that he had changed into the evening dress of the Bengal Lancers.

“Now I know why I have waited for half a century,” he said, “but it has been worth it!”

“Have I been very long?” Brucena asked. “I wanted to look pretty for you – tonight.”

“‘Pretty’ is a very inadequate word to describe you, my lovely one,” he replied.

The servants were waiting to serve their dinner and so there was no chance for him to kiss her. Yet, as they sat opposite each other, Brucena felt that she was close in his arms and their eyes said all the things that their lips could not say.

What they ate or drank she had no idea. She only knew that she was living in an enchanted world where there were only two people, Ian and herself.

When they went back into the sitting room, the oil lamps filled it with a soft golden light while outside the stars covered the Heavens with a jewel-like brilliance.

There were so many things to talk about, so many things she wanted to know that only Ian could tell her and the time slipped by.

When finally she realised that it was getting late, Brucena found her voice dying away and she knew by the expression on Ian’s face that there was no more need for conversation.

He put out his hands and drew her to her feet.

“It is time you went to bed, my precious one,” he said, “and I told your maid not to wait on you, as I want us to be alone.”

‘That – is what I want – too,’ Brucena wanted to say, but she felt shy.

Instead she hid her face against his neck.

He kissed her hair and then with his arms round her he drew her across the passage and into the bedroom.

Here there was only one little oil lamp burning beside the bed.

It shone on the lace cover and on the small lace pillow perched bravely on the large white linen one.

There was a smile on Ian’s lips as he looked at his wife.

Then he took the white orchid from Brucena’s hair and pulled out the pins so that it fell over her shoulders in a golden cloud.

“That is how I saw you the night you were so frightened when you ran into me in the passage,” he said. “Although you were terror-struck, I thought that no woman could look more beautiful or be so soft and sweet and enchanting in every way.”

“You – kissed me,” Brucena whispered, “without asking if – you might do so.”

“It was very remiss of me,” he laughed, “but I obeyed an uncontrollable impulse, which I have never since regretted.”

“I have – never regretted it – either,” Brucetia murmured, “but I have often wondered if I had not been so frightened at that particular moment – whether you would have kissed me – or have been sure that you – loved me.”

“I was sure of myself but not of you,” he answered. “I thought perhaps you still hated me.”

“I loved you – although I did not – know it.”

“And now?”

“I love you with all my heart!”

“That is what I want you to say.”

Then, as his lips met hers, she felt him undoing the buttons at the back of her gown –

*

Later, very much later, when there was only the music of the night and the beat of Ian’s heart, Brucena asked him,

“Is it – possible to be so – happy and not – die of the wonder of it?”

“You are very much alive, my precious one,” Ian said, drawing her closer and kissing her forehead. “Have I really made you happy?”

“So happy that I am – afraid.”

“Afraid?” he questioned.

“That I shall wake up and find it is – all a dream! “How can all this – be real?”

“It is real, that I promise you.”

“Everything that has happened to us is just like a story in a book,” Brucena sighed. “First, that you should be so brave and so wonderful. Then that you should love me and lastly that we should be married. Oh, Ian, tell me it is true!”

He laughed gently and his lips moved over the softness of her skin.

“I will keep proving my love,” he responded, “until you are absolutely convinced in every corner of your mind that you are mine, completely and absolutely mine. The story of our love is as true as it is true that we are in India and the whole great Continent is ours.”

“Supposing you become too – grand and I – lose you?”

“Do you think that is likely?” he asked. “My darling, you forget that one of the main reasons that I am grander now than I was last month is entirely due to you.”

His mouth moved along her eyelids before he continued,

“They say a successful man always has a woman behind him, pushing him up the ladder of success. And that is what you have done for me.”

“I am glad – so very – very glad.”

Ian turned her face up to his.

“We are neither of us going to get so grand,” he said, “that we grow away from each other or the people who matter. There will always be Azims in India who will need our help and support. There will always be wrongs to be righted and Thugs in one form or another to be suppressed.”

“You will let me – help you? Brucena asked him quickly.

“I am not only going to let you, but I insist on it,” Ian replied. “Your quickness of thought and your presence of mind has saved me already and will, I just know, save me again.”

‘“I do not – want to think of you being in – danger.”

“It may play a small part in our lives,” he said seriously, “but if you use that special instinct of yours, sweet darling, I would trust you in any emergency.”

“Oh, Ian, I am glad – so very very glad,” Brucena cried. “I want to be the right – sort of wife for you. I want to feel that you can rely on me.”

“I know I can,” he answered.

“Amelie is the right sort of wife for Cousin William. At first I could not understand why she did not fuss and fume every time he left her. Then I clearly knew why when I was waiting for you the other night in that horrible little tent.”

“Why?” Ian asked.

“Amelie believes implicitly,” Brucena answered, “in William and in God and it makes her sure that, whatever danger he is in, he will come back to her.”

She drew a deep breath.

“I will do the same, I believe in you – my marvellous husband and – in God.”

Ian held her very close against him.

Then he said in a voice that told her that he was deeply moved,

“Could any woman be more wonderful? I adore you for the things you say to me for your thoughts that are like stars shining in the darkness. I also find your softness and your beauty irresistible, because every perfect part of you belongs to me.”

“I am – yours – all yours.”

She spoke with a note of passion in her voice because Ian’s hand was touching her and she felt the little fire that he had awakened in her earlier rising again in her breasts.

As if he felt it too, he laid her gently against the pillows so that she was on her back, looking up at him.

In the flickering fight of the oil lamp he could see her eyes wide and excited and, he thought, with a little touch of fire in their depths.

His hand became more insistent and Brucena raised her lips to his, wanting him to kiss her and wanting the closeness that she knew he wanted too.

“You have bewitched me,” Ian smiled a little unsteadily.

Then his lips were on her lips and his heart was beating against her heart.

They were no longer two people but one and there was no more darkness or terror but only the Divine Love that casts out fear.

OTHER BOOKS IN THIS SERIES

The Barbara Cartland Eternal Collection is the unique opportunity to collect as ebooks all five hundred of the timeless beautiful romantic novels written by the world’s most celebrated and enduring romantic author.

Named the Eternal Collection because Barbara’s inspiring stories of pure love, just the same as love itself, the books will be published on the internet at the rate of four titles per month until all five hundred are available.

The Eternal Collection, classic pure romance available worldwide for all time .

Elizabethan Lover

The Little Pretender

A Ghost in Monte Carlo

A Duel of Hearts

The Saint and the Sinner

The Penniless Peer

The Proud Princess

The Dare-Devil Duke

Diona and a Dalmatian

A Shaft of Sunlight

Lies for Love

Love and Lucia

Love and the Loathsome Leopard

Beauty or Brains

The Temptation of Torilla

The Goddess and the Gaiety Girl

Fragrant Flower

Look Listen and Love

The Duke and the Preacher’s Daughter

A Kiss for the King

The Mysterious Maid-servant

Lucky Logan Finds Love

The Wings of Ecstacy

Mission to Monte Carlo

Revenge of the Heart

The Unbreakable Spell

Never Laugh at Love

Bride to a Brigand

Lucifer and the Angel

Journey to a Star

Solita and the Spies

The Chieftain Without a Heart

No Escape from Love

Dollars for the duke

Pure and Untouched

Secrets

Fire in the Blood

Love, Lies and Marriage

The Ghost who Fell in Love

Hungry for Love

The Wild Cry of Love

The Blue-eyed Witch

The Punishment of a Vixen

The Secret of the Glen

Bride to the King

For All Eternity

King in Love

A Marriage made in Heaven

Who can deny Love?

Riding to the Moon

Wish for Love

Dancing on a Rainbow

Gypsy Magic

Love in the Clouds

Count the Stars

White Lilac

Too Precious to Lose

The Devil Defeated

An Angel Runs Away

The Duchess Disappeared

The Pretty Horse-breakers

The Prisoner of Love

Ola and the Sea Wolf

The Castle made for Love

A Heart is Stolen

The Love Pirate

As Eagles Fly

The Magic of Love

Love Leaves at Midnight

A Witch’s Spell

Love Comes West

The Impetuous Duchess

A Tangled Web

Love lifts the Curse

Saved By A Saint

Love is Dangerous

The Poor Governess

The Peril and the Prince

A Very Unusual Wife

Say Yes Samantha

Punished with love

A Royal Rebuke

The Husband Hunters

Signpost To Love

Love Forbidden

Gift Of the Gods

The Outrageous Lady

The Slaves Of Love

The Disgraceful Duke

The Unwanted Wedding

Lord Ravenscar’s Revenge

From Hate to Love

A Very Naughty Angel

The Innocent Imposter

A Rebel Princess

A Wish Comes True

Haunted

Passions In The Sand

Little White Doves of Love

A Portrait of Love

The Enchanted Waltz

Alone and Afraid

The Call of the Highlands

The Glittering Lights

An Angel in Hell

Only a Dream

A Nightingale Sang

Pride and the Poor Princess

Stars in my Heart

The Fire of Love

A Dream from the Night

Sweet Enchantress

The Kiss of the Devil

Fascination in France

Love Runs In

Lost Enchantment

Love is Innocent

The Love Trap

No Darkness for Love

Kiss from a Stranger

The Flame Is Love

A Touch of Love

The Dangerous Dandy

In Love In Lucca

The Karma Of Love

Magic For The Heart

Paradise Found

Only Love

A Duel with Destiny

The Heart of the Clan

The Ruthless Rake

Revenge is Sweet

Fire on the Snow

A Revolution of Love

Love at the Helm

Listen to Love

Love Casts out Fear

The Devilish Deception

Riding in the Sky

The Wonderful Dream

This Time it’s Love

The River of Love

A Gentleman in Love

The Island of Love

Miracle for a Madonna

The Storms of Love

The Prince and the Pekingese

The Golden Cage

Theresa and a Tiger

The Goddess of Love

Alone in Paris

The Earl Rings a Belle

The Runaway Heart

From Hell to Heaven

Love in the Ruins

Crowned with Love

Love is a Maze

Hidden by Love

Love is the Key

A Miracle in Music

The Race for Love

Call of the Heart

The Curse of the Clan

Saved by Love

The Tears of Love

Winged Magic

Born of Love

Love Holds the Cards

A Chieftain Finds Love

The Horizons of Love

The Marquis Wins

A Duke in Danger

Warned by a Ghost

Forced to Marry

Sweet Adventure

Love is a Gamble

Love on the Wind

Looking for Love

Love is the Enemy

The Passion and the Flower

The Reluctant Bride

Safe in Paradise

The Temple of Love

Love at First Sight

The Scots Never Forget

The Golden Gondola

No Time for Love

Love in the Moon

A Hazard of Hearts

Just Fate

The Kiss of Paris

Little Tongues of Fire

Love Under Fire

The Magnificent Marriage

Moon over Eden

The Dream and the Glory

A Victory for Love

A Princess in Distress

A Gamble with Hearts

Love Strikes a Devil

In the Arms of Love

Love in the Dark

Love Wins

The Marquis who Hated Women

Love is Invincible

Love Climbs in

The Queen Saves the King

The Duke Comes Home

Love Joins the Clans

The Power and the Prince

Winged Victory

Light of the Gods

The Golden Illusion

Never Lose Love

The Sleeping Princess

THE LATE DAME BARBARA CARTLAND

Barbara Cartland, who sadly died in May 2000 at the grand age of ninety eight, remains one of the world’s most famous romantic novelists.  With worldwide sales of over one billion, her outstanding 723 books have been translated into thirty six different languages, to be enjoyed by readers of romance globally.

Writing her first book ‘Jigsaw’ at the age of 21, Barbara became an immediate bestseller.  Building upon this initial success, she wrote continuously throughout her life, producing bestsellers for an astonishing 76 years.  In addition to Barbara Cartland’s legion of fans in the UK and across Europe, her books have always been immensely popular in the USA.  In 1976 she achieved the unprecedented feat of having books at numbers 1 & 2 in the prestigious B. Dalton Bookseller bestsellers list.

Although she is often referred to as the ‘Queen of Romance’, Barbara Cartland also wrote several historical biographies, six autobiographies and numerous theatrical plays as well as books on life, love, health and cookery.  Becoming one of Britain’s most popular media personalities and dressed in her trademark pink, Barbara spoke on radio and television about social and political issues, as well as making many public appearances.

In 1991 she became a Dame of the Order of the British Empire for her contribution to literature and her work for humanitarian and charitable causes.

Known for her glamour, style, and vitality Barbara Cartland became a legend in her own lifetime.  Best remembered for her wonderful romantic novels and loved by millions of readers worldwide, her books remain treasured for their heroic heroes, plucky heroines and traditional values.  But above all, it was Barbara Cartland’s overriding belief in the positive power of love to help, heal and improve the quality of life for everyone that made her truly unique.

Terror in the Sun

Barbara Cartland

Barbara Cartland Ebooks Ltd

This edition © 2019

Copyright Cartland Promotions 1953

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