I said to her, "We have to hide here for a little while, because there are some bad men who are trying to find us."
Her eyes widened. "What bad men?" she asked.
"Just ... bad men."
"Great Khansamah?" she asked.
How much does she know? I wondered. I had often been startled by the mingling of innocence and shrewdness displayed by children.
I decided to tell her the truth. "Yes," I said.
She regarded me seriously. "He does not like us," she said. "I know."
"How did you know?" I asked.
She merely nodded. "I know," she said.
"So we have to stay here for a little while until ..."
"Until he has gone away?"
"Yes," I said.
"Where is my mama?" asked Alan.
Louise was regarding me intently and I knew I had to tell them. I made up my mind quickly. "Your mama has gone away."
"When is she coming back?" asked Louise.
"Well ... she has gone a long way."
"Home to England?" asked Louise.
"Well ... not exactly. She has gone farther than that."
"There isn't farther than that," said Louise gravely.
"Yes, there is. There's Heaven."
"Is that where she's gone?"
"Yes."
"How long will she stay?" asked Alan.
"Well, when people go to Heaven it is usually for a long time."
"Will she be with the angels?" asked Louise.
"I'm an angel," said Alan.
"You're not an angel," said Louise. "You haven't got any wings. You're only a little boy."
"I'm Drusilla's angel," he said. "Aren't I, Drusilla?"
I hugged him and said he was.
I was near to tears and Louise was watching me intently. She was a very serious little girl and I think she did not entirely accept my stories of what was happening.
"You won't go away, will you?" she said.
I shook my head and said that if I had my way I would never go.
Days passed. Each morning I awoke and wondered whether this would be my last day on Earth, and each night when I lay on ray pallet I wondered whether I would live through to the next day.
I tried to carry on with lessons. I invented games that we could play. We had guessing games and I was continually trying to devise new versions of old ones. Alan was often fretful. He wanted to go out into the garden. It was difficult to explain to him. Louise understood, I think, that we were in real danger; she was a sensible and clever little girl.
Ayah visited us often. It was quite natural that she should call on her brother. She brought news of what was happening.
The sepoys who had murdered their officers were now the Army, and they were in Delhi. Moreover, Bahadur Shah had been restored. Everyone must do homage to the King. The British had been driven out of Delhi. Any found on the streets would be instantly despatched. India was now for the Indians. The great Nana Sahib, who bore the same name as our Great Khansamah, was marching through Oudh to the North West Provinces preaching rebellion and the need to throw off the foreigners' yoke. Risings had taken place in Lahore and Peshawur. Soon the British would be driven out of India, said Salar.
I did not believe my countrymen would allow themselves to be so easily dismissed and it seemed that I might be right in this, for soon after we heard that Sir John Lawrence had armed the Sikhs and with their help had curbed the power of the sepoys. The Punjab remained faithful to the British and rumour had it that Sir John Lawrence was sending an army to the relief of Delhi.
I knew that we were in acute danger and that if any man, woman or child of European origin were found in the streets they would be instantly killed.
I gave myself entirely up to the care of the children. I had to keep them happy and myself occupied. I gave my entire attention to them; it was one way of shutting out that fearful memory.
I wished that I had never seen it. To have heard vaguely that Lavinia had been killed, as had thousands of others, would have shocked me deeply, but that I should have seen the manner in which she died, seemed more than I could bear to think of.
The children were a blessing. They were very good in the circumstances. At least we were not so much in the dark as we had been. Louise had a strong sense of danger. Sometimes she would come and stand beside me for no apparent reason. I understood. She was old enough to realize that we were living through dangerous times. She clung to both me and the ayah. I knew she was very disturbed when the ayah was not with us.
They were wonderful, those two ... the ayah and her brother. I had complete trust in them; the fidelity of Ayah and the integrity of Salar were an example to us all.
All the time I was wondering about Fabian and Dougal. Where were they? How had they fared in this holocaust? I guessed that Fabian, at least, would be somewhere in the heart of the trouble. I longed for news of him. Lying on my pallet at night I would think of him, and because I felt life was so uncertain and death was hovering all the time behind any door, I faced my true feelings for him.
I longed to be with him. The times I had spent with him had been the highlights of my life. I liked to brood on the childish episode when he had seen me as a baby and taken me for his own. He might have kept me there always. What a difference that would have made to my life! I thought of him as he had been, stretched out on the settee ... with Lavinia kneeling before him with a chalice of wine while I fanned him with Miss Lucille's peacock-feather fan.
Then my mind switched to that terrible scene ... the sight of the bloodstained feathers of the fan that the Khansamah had given to Lavinia. How strange that there should be yet another feather fan to haunt me. When he had given that fan to Lavinia she had believed it meant contrition on his part. How little she understood. It meant disaster was coming to her ... revenge because she had slighted him.
I must cling to something to blot out the memory. Fabian would save us, I told myself. I prayed that he might still be alive and that I should soon see him again.
I must face the truth. He was more important to me than I dared admit; but what was the point of deceiving myself now? Why did I not admit to my obsession with him? It had been there ever since we had been children. I supposed I was in love with him. I had always been what was called a sensible girl. Even Lady Harriet had admitted to that. Had she not sent me to the finishing school in France—which my father could never have afforded—for the purpose of looking after Lavinia?
And I had looked after her. I had brought her through a difficult situation which, had we not been successful, would have ruined her prospects for a grand marriage. That was something of which Lady Harriet was ignorant, but I was sure she would have approved of my action had she known.
I was a sensible girl. I must go on being sensible. Just because I was overwrought ... just because I had witnessed something more terrible than I could ever have imagined, I must not allow it to unnerve me.
The ayah came in to tell me the news. Something was happening. The British were advancing on Delhi and there was great consternation throughout the city.
"Take great care," said Salar. "They must not find you."
We waited. Could this life be going to change? The weeks were passing. Surely something must happen soon?
It was a hot June day when an attempt was made to blow open the gates of the city. Perhaps Delhi would be taken. Then perhaps I might see Fabian.
However, this was not to be. The people rose in their determination to hold the city. The sepoys were well trained and they were brave soldiers; and they did not fight the less boldly and skilfully because they were fighting for India.