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She looked up at him again. She must not run away from this. It was all past. They could hurt no more. But Gabriel needed not to be alone in his horror. He was the only one still alive she could help.
He went on talking.
“When General Havelock’s men found it eventually, the floor of the room was two inches deep in human blood. They found the hacked-up limbs and bodies in the well. They pulled up the body of one of General Wheeler’s daughters. They sent a lock of her hair home as a memento, to her family in England.” His voice was low in the quiet room smelling of clean linen and candle wax. “The rest of the scalp they divided up among themselves and then each man counted the individual hairs in his portion and swore an oath by heaven, and by the God who created him, that he would kill one mutineer for every hair he had. I know, because one of those men was a friend of mine. He wept even as he told me of it. He used to scream in his sleep when he remembered that house and what they found in it.”
“How did you escape?” she asked him.
“I was hit on the head and nearly drowned,” he replied. “But I was washed up by the river further downstream. I lay senseless for so long I suppose they thought I was dead and not worth bothering with. When I came to myself they had taken the plunder and the prisoners who were still alive and gone. Then followed the worst two weeks of my life…. I don’t know how I lived, but I made my way towards Futtehpore and met up with General Havelock’s men. I was nearly dead and of no use for the fight, but they took care of me. I recovered.” He smiled as if it still surprised him. “I wasn’t even badly hurt, just burned and half starved and on the point of exhaustion.” He glanced at his empty sleeve. “I didn’t lose that until a few months ago. It was a stupid street brawl I tried to stop. But you don’t need to hear about that.”
What he meant was that he did not want to relive it.
“No, of course not,” she agreed, standing up slowly, finding her legs shaking and her balance not very good. She put out a hand to steady herself.
“Thank you for listening to me,” he said gravely. “I … I hope I haven’t disturbed you too much … but there is no one else. They don’t wish to know. They think it would be much better for me if I were to forget … but how can I? It would be such a betrayal … even if it were possible!” He wanted reassurance he was right. “What kind of man would I be if I could just go on as if they had never lived … and died like that?”
“One never forgets,” she agreed, thinking of some of her own memories, men, and women too, who had been fragile and brave and who had died terribly. “But you can’t expect other people to share what they don’t understand.” She straightened the bedclothes unnecessarily. “It is a part of your life, and it always will be … but it isn’t all of it.”
He looked at her ruefully, acknowledgment in his eyes, but he did not answer.
She glanced at his bedside table to make sure he had water and a clean glass.
“Is there anything else you would like?”
“No,” he said flatly. “No, thank you. Are—are you going to sit with Perdita?”
She knew what he really meant. She was aware of his deep sense of inadequacy to be the husband, companion and protector that he had promised his wife he would be. Instead he was in need of her strength and help, not only physically but emotionally.
“Yes,” she said with a smile of assurance. “As soon as I can see you are settled I shall go and find her.”
He relaxed. At least for tonight he need not worry. “Thank you. Good night, Hester.” Without being aware of it he had used her Christian name.
“Good night, Gabriel,” she answered from the doorway, then went out and closed the door quietly.
It was after eleven o’clock, but since she had promised, she made her way downstairs to see if Perdita was still up. Most probably she was not, but she must look.
However, as soon as she opened the withdrawing room door Perdita sat up from the sofa where she had been curled half asleep. Her hair was tousled and she blinked even in the dim light of the one wall lamp still lit.
“How is he?” she asked anxiously. “Is he all right?”
Hester closed the door and walked over to the chair near Perdita and sat down. She looked at the younger woman’s frightened eyes and her soft cheek, marked now where she had lain against the crease in the cushions. She was about twenty-two, but in some ways no more than a child. She had been married at eighteen after a year’s betrothal to a man who was in every way her ideal. She had seen him through the eyes of a girl who expected everything of marriage. It was not only what was required of her, it was her own dream, and Gabriel Sheldon was the perfect husband: handsome, brave, charming, well-bred and with a promising career. And for all that it had been a socially suitable marriage, they had also been in love.
Now her whole world was in ruins, for no reason she could comprehend, and she was overwhelmed by it.
“He is settled for the night,” Hester answered. “I think he will sleep well.” She had no idea whether he would or not, but there was no purpose in saying that to Perdita.
Perdita frowned. “Are you sure? You were in there a long time….”
“Oh … I suppose I was. We were just talking. There was nothing wrong, I promise you.”
Perdita looked unhappy, twisting her hands together in her lap.
“I never know what to say to him,” she murmured. “I can’t keep asking how he is feeling. He only says he’s all right. And I know he isn’t, but there’s nothing I can do.” She glanced up suddenly. She had very blue eyes, but in this somber light they seemed almost black. “What do you find to say, Miss Latterly?”
Hester hesitated. She should not answer with the truth. He had not said so, but what Gabriel had told her was implicitly a confidence. It was something neither of them could share with anyone else. As close as she had been to William Monk at times—all the causes they had fought for toget
her, the tragedies they had seen—she would not share her experiences of the battlefield or the siege or the hospital at Scutari with him. But Gabriel understood.
She must find an answer which did not make Perdita feel even more helpless and excluded.
