It was a bitter disappointment when the attempt failed, but of course that was not the end. There followed more long weeks of waiting and speculation, wondering if each day would be our last. We had come to Salar's house in May, and it was not until September that the city of Delhi was taken by the Sikhs and the British.
It was still unsafe to venture out. Fighting was going on in the streets and anyone not of the Indian race would be shot on sight.
But hope had returned. Something must happen soon. Louise was aware of this.
"Will my mother come back now?" she asked.
"No, Louise. She can't come back."
"Will my father?"
"Perhaps."
"And my uncle?"
"I don't know. They will come if they can. They will want to make sure that we are all safe."
"Shall we go away from here then?"
"Yes, we shall go away."
"On a big ship? Home?"
It was pleasant to hear her speak of England as home, for she had never seen it, yet it meant home to her.
"Yes," I told her. "One day ..."
"Soon?"
"Perhaps that may well be."
She nodded, smiling. She knew that if she asked some questions she would get evasive answers and her instinct told her that they might not be true.
And so we waited.
One day the ayah came to me. It was in the late afternoon. I thought this was simply one of her periodic visits, but it was quite different.
She said, "We all leave house. Khansamah say it is not safe. He says enemy come. Soldiers in all houses, British soldiers now. He say they blame us ... kill us."
"They wouldn't kill you."
"Khansamah, he say ..."
"Where is the Khansamah?"
"I do not know. He say all go. They all go different places."
She stayed in her brother's house all that day and the next night. We waited eagerly for news.
The following day she went out. She still thought it might be unsafe for me to venture into the streets with the children. People were still being killed, and even though the British Army had taken over the town there were still pockets of resistance.
When she came back she said, "I see Fabian Sahib. He is at house."
I was speechless, but I think she must have been aware of the joy that was surging through me.
"Did you see him? Did you speak to him?"
She nodded. "I go to him. He say, 'Where Missie Drusilla and children? Where Memsahib Countess?' "
"You ... you told him?"
She shook her head. "I fear Khansamah. He watch me. I think he know." She began to tremble. "I think he watch me."
"But where is he?"
She hesitated. "I didn't see ... but I think he watch. I think he follow me. I did not see, but I know."
"Well," I said. "He won't be able to do any harm now. He is no longer at the house. What did you tell Sir Fabian?"
"I tell him Countess dead, children safe with you."
"So you did tell him that?"
She nodded. "He say, 'Where? Where?' But I did not tell. I fear Khansamah come here. I fear he watch. I say, 'I bring Missie Drusilla to you.' He say, 'Yes, yes.' And then I run away."
"I must go to him," I said.
"Not in day. Wait for night."
How did I live through that day? I felt lightheaded. An exultation had taken hold of me. Then I experienced guilty feelings. There was death and destruction all around me. How could I feel this joy when I was still mourning Lavinia's death and that of all the others who had died with her?
At last it was evening.
"Wear sari," said Ayah. "Cover up head best. Then come."
I went through the streets with Ayah, hurrying along, being able to think of nothing but the possibility of seeing him, yet fearing that I never should. I imagined an assassin at every turn.
I had an uneasy feeling that we were being followed. A light footfall ... a hasty glance over my shoulder. Nothing. Only imagination stretched beyond belief because of all the terrible things that had happened in the last months of my life.
I must live through the next moments. I must see Fabian again.
And there was the house.
"I wait for you in the gazebo," said Ayah.
I went swiftly across the grass. There were lights in several of the windows. I wanted to call out: Fabian. I'm here, Fabian.
There was a clump of flowering shrubs near the house. As I passed this I heard a movement behind me. I turned sharply and as I did so, terror swept over me. I was looking into the murderous eyes of the Khansamah.
"Missie Drusilla," he said softly.
"What ... what are you doing here?"
"My home," he said.
"No more. You have betrayed those who trusted you."
"You very bold, Missie Drusilla," he said. "You go ... you take children ... you hide. I know now where. I kill Ayah ... but you first."
I screamed for help as he sprang towards me. I saw the knife in his upraised hand. I called out again and with all my strength pushed him from me.
It was a feeble effort, but it did cause him to reel back a little. He regained his balance immediately and was coming nearer. Those seconds seemed to go on for a long time. It amazes me, thinking back, how much can pass through the mind at such a moment. My first thought was: Has Ayah betrayed me? Is it for this she brought me here? No. She would never do that. She loved the children. She was fond of me for what I had done for Roshanara. It was an unworthy thought. I believed in that fearful moment that this was the end. I shall never see Fabian again, I thought. And who will look after the children?
Then there was a shattering explosion. The Khansamah threw up his hands. I heard the knife fall to the ground; he reeled drunkenly before he collapsed in a heap at my feet.
Fabian was coming towards me, a pistol in his hand.
"Drusilla!" he said.
I felt faint with shock. I thought I must be dead and dreaming.
His arms were round me. He was holding me tightly against him. I was trembling.
I heard him mutter, "Are you all right? Thank God you are safe ..."
"Fabian," I whispered. "Fabian ..." Repeating his name seemed to relieve me.
"Let's get inside ... away from that."
"He's dead," I murmured.
"Yes, he's dead."
"You ... saved me."
"Just in time. The old villain. It's his just deserts. Tell me ... I've wondered so much ... such nightmare thoughts. You're shivering. Come into the house. Don't be afraid. They've all gone ... none of them stayed when we came in. The house is safe now. There's so much to say ..."
He put his arm round me and led me into the house. It was quiet.
"I'll find some brandy or something," he said.
A soldier in uniform came into the hall.
"Can you find some brandy, Jim?" said Fabian. "There's been a nasty accident out there. Get rid of the body, will you? It's an old rascal who used to work here. He tried to kill Miss Delany."
"Yes, sir," said the man. He was clearly no more moved by one request than the other.
We went into the drawing room, which no longer looked familiar, and after a few moments the man returned with the brandy and two glasses.
Fabian poured it out. "Drink this," he said. "You'll feel better."
I took the glass with trembling hands.
"That man ..." I began.
"Stop thinking of him. It was you or him. So he had to go. Moreover, he has caused a lot of trouble. He's had that coming to him for a long time."
"Lavinia ..." I said. And I told him.
He was deeply shocked. "My poor foolish sister ... she never learned, did she?" He took a sip of brandy and stared ahead of him. He had cared for her, I knew, although he had deplored her conduct and had usually treated her with an affectionate contempt. He had done what he could for Fleur's future. It was a terrible blow to him that she was dead.