Scorpion Sunset (42 page)

David read what he'd written and added another postscript.

If I wrote what I really feel about you I'd probably frighten you off but I want you know that my heartfelt feelings aren't entirely the result of being terrified of being blown into oblivion at any moment.

He pushed it into an envelope, sealed it, and wrote Georgiana's name and address on the back. He cleared away his writing case, pen, and ink and lay back on the bed.

If by some miracle Georgiana did agree to marry him, would she be as appalled and devastated as he was by the life-changing news he'd received?

Turkish Prison Camp

March 1917

John went into the kitchen after he finished patients' rounds to find Mrs Gulbenkian in tears and Hasmik and Rebeka trying to comfort her.

‘What on earth is the matter?'

Mrs Gulbenkian's English had improved to the point where she understood him. She looked up, saw the sympathetic expression on his face, and sobbed all the louder.

Rebeka wrapped her arm around Mrs Gulbenkian's shoulders and shook her head at John.

He retreated to the room that had been claimed as a day room by the fittest among the convalescent patients. They'd enlisted the help of the POW officers and orderlies, and moved the beds to clear an area for chairs and makeshift tables. John found Crabbe playing bridge with Bowditch and two other officers, and in direct contradiction of all medical advice, smoking.

‘Missed us so much you had to come back, or did you forget to discharge one of us to the officers' accommodation?' Crabbe asked.

‘I'm hiding from the nurses in the kitchen. Something's upset Mrs Gulbenkian.'

‘She's heard from her cousin in America.' Crabbe took the hand on the table, shuffled the cards together with the others on his pile, and led with another trump.

‘And?' John pressed.

‘The cousin pleaded poverty and said he could neither send her the money for passage to America nor sponsor her to go there even if she found the money herself. Nor could he offer her a room to stay should she somehow make her own way to the land of milk and honey.'

John sat on the end of Crabbe's bed which was close to the table. ‘That leaves Mrs Gulbenkian with nowhere to go at the end of the war.'

‘Exactly.'

‘She was so sure her cousin would come to her aid. She was going to take Hasmik with her. She even offered to take Rebeka.'

‘I thought Rebeka might be making other post-war plans.'

Crabbe's wink suggested to John that he and Rebeka hadn't been as successful at concealing their relationship as they'd believed.

‘Don't worry, we can always take them back to England with us when the peace treaties are signed.' Crabbe took another hand and threw away a low club. ‘Mrs Gulbenkian and Rebeka have cared selflessly and without payment for British troops, therefore we can hope the powers that be will regard them as British nurses.'

‘We can hope.' John echoed. He waited until Crabbe finished the hand. ‘Fancy a walk outside? It's dry.'

‘But freezing cold.'

‘It will disinfect your lungs.'

Crabbe picked up his greatcoat, which he used as an extra blanket on his bed, and followed John outside.

‘I'll make an appointment to see the colonel,' John wrapped the muffler that Mrs Gulbenkian had knitted him from wool sent in a Red Cross parcel around his neck. ‘If enough officers sign a letter asking the War Office to accept Mrs Gulbenkian, Rebeka, and Hasmik into Britain, someone in authority might take notice.'

‘They might. They might take even more notice if I marry Mrs Gulbenkian.'

‘Marry?' John thrust his hands deeper into his greatcoat's pockets to warm them. ‘You're seriously thinking of asking Mrs Gulbenkian to marry you?'

‘Why not? She's a fine-looking woman.'

John thought for a moment. ‘You're right. It's just that I've never thought of her that way.'

‘Hardly surprising; you're what, twenty-eight, twenty-nine?'

‘I feel a hundred and ten most days,' John murmured.

‘Mrs Gulbenkian – Yana – is forty.'

‘Yana? I had no idea you were so close.'

‘We have a few things in common. I'm closer to fifty than forty. Even before I was wounded I knew I'd be put out to grass after this show. I've a major's pension to look forward to, which is not insignificant, and I've a bit put by as well, so I can afford to lead a comfortable life in retirement. I think I'd enjoy sharing it with a woman.'

‘The way you play cards I'm guessing you've more than a bit put by.'

‘Enough to buy a small house in the country with a garden big enough for a few chickens, and a goat. Yana's fond of goat's milk and fresh eggs.'

‘There are several cottages on my father – my family's estate,' John corrected. He still found it difficult to believe that his father wouldn't be there to greet him when he returned home.

‘You're going back there after the war?'

‘If I survive until the peace treaties are signed.'

‘You'd sell me a cottage?'

‘Or rent, whichever you prefer. You'd make an excellent neighbour, one I could bore with war reminiscences any time I chose. Does Mrs Gulbenkian – Yana – know you're making plans?'

‘She will before the day is out.'

‘And Hasmik?'

‘I've always wanted a daughter.' Crabbe turned when they reached the fence. He gazed back at the winter shrivelled, uninviting garden. ‘I could adopt Rebeka as well.'

‘No, you couldn't, she'd object. She's too old to be adopted by you or any man.'

‘You're married.'

‘You don't need to remind me. I've written to Maud telling her I want a divorce. I've also written to my brother Tom asking him to begin divorce proceedings.'

‘A divorce can take years.'

‘I know, but I have other means of persuading the authorities that Rebeka is my indispensable nursing assistant.'

‘Such as?'

‘A godfather who's a general and a father who's the King's surgeon.'

‘That should help your case. I'm bloody frozen. Are my lungs disinfected enough for you now?'

‘You have my permission to go back inside. Just one thing: when and where do you intend to propose?' ‘

‘Why?'

‘So I can hide and watch.'

‘That is exactly why I won't tell you.'

Count D'Souza's Residence and Portuguese Consulate, India

March 1917

Maud was last to finish breakfast. Sister Luke had excused herself almost as soon as Maud had entered the dining room and left for upstairs. Maud presumed to pack, although she couldn't imagine quite what the sister was packing as she, like Maud, had brought very little beyond a change of clothes and a Bible with her. To Maud's disappointment if the count had breakfasted he'd eaten early, because there was no place set for him at the table.

She finished her coffee, blotted her lips on a napkin, and went into the hall. Before she reached the stairs a footmen handed her a letter on a silver tray. She turned it over twice before realising that John had written her address on the outside of one of her own letters. She tore it open in the hope he'd written a reply to her in the margins. It couldn't be a long message but everyone knew prisoners of war were kept in appalling conditions where necessities were in short supply and presumably luxuries like notepaper unobtainable.

She saw that John had written something in the corner on the page, but his writing was cramped and she had to move closer the window to read it.

Dear Maud, our marriage is over. I will instigate divorce proceedings as soon as I can. John

‘Good morning, Mrs Smith.'

‘Good morning, Count D'Souza.' She forced a smile and pushed the letter into the pocket of her dress.

‘You are pale, not bad news I hope.'

‘A letter from my cousin. He is a being held a prisoner of war in a Turkish camp. I have been sending him food parcels. It appears not all of them are getting through to him.'

‘Hardly surprising. It is common knowledge the Ottoman army is full of cut-throats and thieves. Sister Luke, good morning. Please, would you both care to accompany me into my study?'

Maud and Sister Luke followed the count. He closed the door and offered them chairs before walking around behind his desk. He opened a drawer and removed an envelope.

‘I wish to thank both of you for remaining with my wife until the end, which took a great deal longer than the doctors initially envisaged. This,' he handed Sister Luke the envelope, ‘is a donation to the convent over and above what I agreed to pay Mother Superior for both your services. Thank you for remaining for the funeral and thank you for the spiritual comfort you have given me and everyone in this house throughout this difficult time. Also for the comfort you offered the mourners yesterday.'

Sister Luke took the envelope. ‘God bless and keep you, Count D'Souza, and God bless and keep the Countess D'Souza's soul.'

‘Thank you, Sister Luke. You are packed and ready to leave?'

‘I am, sir.'

‘You must be anxious to return to the convent.'

‘We are needed in the infirmary, sir. I received a message from Mother Superior yesterday. Smallpox has broken out in the streets in the north of the town and the isolation wards in the convent are overflowing with the sick.'

‘I have summoned a carriage to convey you to the convent. A footman will accompany you and carry your bags.'

‘Sister Smith?' Sister Luke looked at Maud as she rose from her chair.

‘I won't be returning to the convent with you, Sister Luke.' Maud looked down at her hands to avoid meeting Sister Luke's gaze which given the strain between them she suspected would be full of contempt.

‘I've offered Mrs Smith the position of housekeeper on my staff, which I am delighted to say she has accepted. She will remain here,' the count explained. ‘Thank you again for your assistance, Sister Luke.'

Maud rose from her chair and offered Sister Luke her hand. The nun bowed but did not take it. She swept out of the room without another word. A footman reached in from the hall and closed the door the sister had left open behind her.

The count smiled at Maud. ‘I would like you to pack my wife's personal possessions. Secure all her jewellery in a strongbox and her clothes in mothproof trunks. Her personal maid will help you. Do you get on with her?'

‘Very well.' Maud knew that the mixed-race girl was terrified of losing her place.

‘In which case you can tell her that she will be kept on to serve as your lady's maid. When you've cleared my wife's room, please begin on the rest of the house. Start with the cut glass, crystal, and silverware in the dining room. I received official confirmation this morning. I have been recalled to Lisbon. I leave at the end of the week.'

Maud's heart beat a tattoo. ‘And me, sir?'

‘I will need a housekeeper wherever I am posted, Mrs Smith, and I was hoping you would accompany me. I will continue to pay you the salary we negotiated yesterday as well as all your living and travel expenses. I trust that will be satisfactory?'

‘It will, sir.'

‘I have an appointment with the mayor but I will return for lunch. Will you join me?'

‘I will be happy to. Thank you, sir.'

‘I'll see you then.'

‘May I borrow some notepaper so I can write to my relatives in England to inform them that I am leaving the convent and that I will forward a new address to them as soon as I have one?'

‘Of course.' He rose from his desk, squeezed her breasts, and kissed her. ‘See at lunch – and siesta,' he added suggestively. ‘And summon the dressmaker. I would like you to see you in something more colourful and becoming than that drab nurses' uniform.'

As soon as he left the room, Maud opened the stationary cabinet. She ignored the house stationary and removed a dozen sheets of official Portuguese Consulate notepaper and envelopes. She placed them in a file and carried them up to her room. The door to the bedroom Sister Luke had occupied was open and the maids had already stripped the bed.

Maud took the file into her own bedroom, placed it on the desk, and closed and locked the door. She used the pen, ink, and paper she found in a drawer, and began practising handwriting. Her own, which slanted to the right, was too distinctive so she tried to write in a clear, upright hand.

Only when she was happy that her writing wasn't recognisable as hers did she take the consulate paper and envelopes. She addressed one envelope to her father, another to John, and a third and fourth to Angela and Mrs Butler.

Apart from the name, she penned the same message on all of them.

Regret to inform you Mrs Maud Mason died of smallpox yesterday afternoon. Mrs Mason's remains were immediately interred with those of other victims in a mass grave in the public cemetery as a necessary precautionary measure to contain the spread of the disease.

Mrs Mason left her personal effects and all her worldly goods to the convent of St Agnes and St Clare.

Yours sincerely,

pp Count D'Souza

Portuguese Consul

on behalf of the sisters of the convent of St Agnes and St Clare.

When she finished writing five letters she placed four in the envelopes and sealed them. She took them and half a sovereign from her purse and went downstairs in search of a footman. She handed the envelopes to the man and gave him the coin.

‘These letters are urgent. Please take them to the Post Office at once and ensure that the correct postage is placed on them.'

‘Yes, ma'am.'

‘You may keep the change.'

‘Yes, ma'am.'

‘On your return journey call on the countess's dressmaker and ask him to visit me here at his earliest opportunity.'