The Brigadier's Daughter (25 page)

‘No!' She struggled from his grasp. ‘It's only lust, Reid, you'll get over it. Remember, it was Georgia you chose in the first place.'

‘I didn't know you then. I— I love you, Sasha.' There, he had said it, but still it was not enough and he felt like he was drowning, trying to hold on to Sasha as she wriggled from his grasp and covered her ears with both hands.

‘Don't say that!' she gasped, her heart slamming hard in her chest. ‘It's not love. You will forget me—'

‘No! Never!'

‘Please, Reid, try to understand—'

‘Understand what? That we made a mistake? That I married the wrong girl in the first place? I know that, and we can put that right. We can—'

‘No, we can't!' Sasha shouted then, frustrated, aching with her love for him and jealousy that she could not have him, and fury with Georgia for ruining their happiness. ‘She's with child!'

‘What?' Reid stilled and stared down at her.

‘Georgia is expecting a baby.'

For a moment he just continued to stare, and then he let her go and laughed out loud, but it was not a happy sound. ‘This just gets better and better! Now I'm expected to give my name to another man's child, and take on the mother when she left me in the first place for that man!' He glowered out to sea. ‘I am beginning to think that I want nothing more to do with either of you!'

Sasha was silent, gazing down at her boots, ashamed at how badly they had manipulated him. She whispered, ‘I'm sorry.'

His voice was hard as he replied, ‘You will be. Believe me, you and your bloody sister will be very sorry!'

He began to walk away and Sasha called out, running after him, ‘Reid! What do you mean? Please, don't do anything rash.'

But he would not listen and strode away. He went to see Captain Turnbull and requested a third cabin, as far away from the Packard sisters as he could get. A steward moved his luggage and, though eyebrows were raised, no questions were asked.

 

Throughout the five-day voyage Reid did his best to avoid both Sasha and Georgia, and when he could not, at meal times, he was icily polite when speech was necessary, but otherwise ignored them.

Georgia and Sasha each had their own cabin, and though Georgia suggested they move in together, Sasha refused. She wanted to be alone—she did not need an audience to her weeping every night into her pillow. She could feel very little compassion towards Georgia at the moment, who indeed did not seem
to need her sympathy and support as she set about charming various officers, languishing in the common room and notably taking many a turn about deck with Captain Turnbull. Sasha was grateful for the Captain's escort, his stalwart presence a buffer, yet she wondered how Georgia could smile and laugh so gaily when all around them disaster and heartache loomed.

 

The night before they were due to dock at Tilbury in London, Sasha lay awake, staring at the riveted ceiling above her bunk. How cruel was fate! How could she protect Georgia from the shocking scandal that was about to break and ruin all their lives? How could she let Reid walk away, with all this horrid ill feeling and confusion between them? She felt a sudden and urgent need to talk to Reid, if only to convince him to take Georgia back. But as she lay there another thought came to her mind, and she could not bring herself to move. He had said he loved her, and she smiled at the thought, turning on her side to face towards the end of the corridor where his cabin was, wishing so much that he would change his mind and forgive her, that she could lay with him now, curled up against his warm bulk, safe and loved and cherished. Sasha closed her eyes, sighing, reliving the nights of tender lovemaking with Reid, and then suddenly she began to cry, stifling the aching sobs with one fist in her mouth. It could not be. She would never kiss him, or hold him, or feel his warm body moving against hers ever again.

What they had done, she and Georgia, was unforgivable.

 

A fire crackled in the hearth of the drawing room, even though it was July. The house on Roseberry Street was unusually quiet and before the fire sat the Brigadier, idly perusing a copy of the
The Light Dragoon's Journal
, though his thoughts often wandered. On a chaise longue opposite, Olga dozed beneath a tartan rug, a fluffy grey cat purring against her side. He regretted at times like this, when it was so quiet, sending the two younger girls, Philippa and Victoria, abroad with his sister, ostensibly on
a tour of Europe's art and history, yet removing them from the ugly repercussions of scandal. A scandal that as of yet had still not broken, nor would it, he considered, until Georgia decided to surface, and Sasha was exposed.

On the mantelpiece a clock ticked gently…
tick-tock
…
tick-tock
…

Time, that was all it would take, just the passing of time…?. The Brigadier cursed silently within the confines of his mind, cursing the likes of Felix Westfaling and Reid Bowen to all the fires and damnation of hell!

He wondered if Sasha had received his letter, and for the tenth time that day he wondered where on earth Georgia could be. A terse interview with Lady Westfaling had only evinced that she was not with Felix, who apparently was spending some time preparing for the grouse in August on their Scottish estate. Why had they not heard from her? Surely he had not raised a daughter who could be so selfish and so immoral as to just disappear into the blue like that, leaving in her wake a trail of devastation? And on her wedding day! He was sure that Major Bowen could not be at fault; he seemed like a gentleman and he could not imagine any reason why Georgia should so detest marrying him that she chose to run away. Although, of course, it had taken him a few days to realise that, and to realise that it was not Georgia who had walked up the aisle, married, and sailed away to Russia with Major Bowen, but Sasha. And that Georgia had run away from home. The Brigadier sighed heavily.

Olga stirred, murmuring, ‘Is it time for tea?'

‘It's a little early, my dear, but I'll ring the bell, if you wish.' He rose from his chair, and then paused by the window as a carriage drew up in front of the steps. It was a hansom cab, and he frowned, puzzled, for he was not expecting any guests.

Shifting on the chaise longue, Olga sat up. ‘Who is it?'

‘I don't know. Were you expecting anyone?'

Olga shook her head, with a frown and shrug of her shoulder, and the Brigadier strode to the door just as he heard Lodge
open the main entrance, and his exclamation, followed by the sound of female voices, had the Brigadier rushing to open the drawing-room door long before the butler. As he pulled it wide, he stopped on its threshold and stared at Georgia and Sasha standing in the hallway amidst piles of luggage and shrugging off their coats and hats.

Both girls froze as they saw their father, and exchanged nervous glances. But it was their mother who screamed, throwing aside her rug and moving faster than anyone had seen her move in years, her slippered feet pattering across the marble hall, arms thrown wide as she cried, ‘My girls! Darlings!'

‘Mama!' cried Sasha and Georgia in unison, rushing to embrace her.

‘You are home at last!' Olga purred, and, arm in arm, led her daughters into the drawing room.

 

It was a tearful yet joyous reunion, as though they had been away on holiday, and no explanations were asked until much later that evening, when the Brigadier dismissed the servants after dinner and the family sat down in Olga's bedroom as they tucked her up for the night, and any further conversation could not be heard by anyone except the four of them.

The Brigadier sat in a striped upright chair by the window, while the two girls lay on the bed as close to their mother as possible without squashing her delicate, slender frame. She held hands with each of them, one on either side, Sasha resting her cheek against her mother's shoulder and Georgia leaning back against the padded brocade headboard.

‘Well?' The Brigadier fixed them both with a stern stare. ‘You needn't think that all will be well, because I can assure you both that I am very angry, and deeply shocked by your disgraceful behaviour. And there's no use looking at your mother like that, you have caused her a great deal of distress. I should beat both of you soundly with my strongest riding whip.'

Sasha and Georgia both avoided his eye, biting their lips and
feeling heat flare up their necks and cheeks as his withering harangue continued, but at the end of it, their father fell silent and neither of them spoke.

‘Georgia?' he barked at her, and she jumped. ‘I have no doubt you are the instigator of it all, you usually are, leaving poor Sasha to clean up your mess.'

‘Oh, Papa!' wailed Georgia, ‘please don't be mean.'

‘Then tell me where the hell have you been for the past two months?'

‘Well…' She glanced at Sasha, but there was a dark warning in her eyes. ‘I— I can't really say.'

‘Try.'

‘Well…'

‘We know for one thing you have not been with Major Bowen. Where have you come from today?'

‘From St Petersburg,' Georgia answered promptly, in an injured tone, relieved to be able to tell her father at least one item of truth.

‘Alone?'

‘No, of course not. I was with Sasha. And Major Bowen.'

‘Indeed!' The Brigadier snorted, finding that hard to believe, glancing to Sasha for confirmation.

‘It's true, Papa, we have sailed from St Petersburg in the company of Major Bowen.' The sisters exchanged a glance, for they had cobbled together an explanation that might, just might, scrape them through this, if Major Bowen kept to his side of the bargain. ‘Papa, Georgia was so nervous about getting married that she begged me to go with her, so you see it was not she who ran away from home, but me. I went with her to St Petersburg.' Sasha glanced away, hoping that he would not detect this lie.

Georgia chipped in then. ‘When we got to Russia, Major Bowen and I realised that we just would not suit and—and, well, you see, we never, well, that is—'

‘The marriage was not consummated,' Sasha supplied.

‘You did not mention this in your letter, Sasha. And why did you not write yourself, Georgia, and tell me all of this?'

Both girls fell silent.

‘And where is Major Bowen now?'

‘He has gone to his Uncle Percy.'

‘He's not well,' added Sasha. ‘But he said that he would call upon you tomorrow to discuss an…annulment.'

‘Who? Uncle Percy?'

‘No, Major Bowen!' the two girls sang in unison.

The Brigadier made an inarticulate sound, having the most uncomfortable feeling that his girls were pulling the wool over his eyes, but he was so relieved to have them home, and apparently unscathed and with the minimum of scandal, that he felt it difficult to further berate them.

Olga interjected, ‘Please, Conrad, I am very tired and so happy to have the girls home at last. Can we not talk about this in the morning?'

‘Of course, my dear.' He rose to his feet. ‘Now, you two girls go along to your rooms.'

Georgia and Sasha kissed their mother good-night and slid off the bed, halting at the door as their father called out, ‘And you had better both still be there in the morning!'

 

At eleven o'clock sharp the next morning, the earliest permitted hour for visitors to call, Lodge went to open the door, summoned by a resounding and urgent rapping of the brass knocker.

Sasha was descending the stairs at that very moment, as Major Bowen was admitted in to the entrance hall. He glanced up at her, and for a moment their eyes dwelled on each other. Sasha felt an ache of yearning in her chest. She had missed him so! Yet it had been less than a day since she had last seen him. But he did not speak to her, and he looked away as he followed Lodge down the corridor to the rear of the house and the study.

The Brigadier sat behind his desk and he looked up as Lodge opened the door and announced, ‘Major Bowen, sir.'

‘Thank you, Lodge.' He rose from his chair. ‘Close the door. And we are not to be disturbed.'

‘Very good, sir.'

Reid was dressed in military uniform, for after his call upon the Brigadier he had an interview in Whitehall with his superiors.

For a moment the Brigadier and Reid stared at each other, uncomfortably, and then Reid removed his hat, standing upright as he spoke formally. ‘Sir, I have come to ask you for your daughter's hand in marriage.'

The Brigadier gave no sign at all of the shock that inwardly made him flinch, for this was not what he was expecting, but he answered coolly enough, ‘Indeed? And which daughter would that be?'

‘Why—' Reid smiled ‘—Alexandra, of course.'

The Brigadier did not respond with a smile of his own. A muscle twitched in his cheek and his piercing blue eyes narrowed. ‘You consider this to be a laughing matter, do you?'

‘I— I, no, sir, of course not.'

‘God damn it!' The Brigadier lost his temper then, and slammed his fist down on the desk. ‘How dare you! Get out! Get out of my house!'

Reid was taken aback by the Brigadier's reaction and failed to see why, but he stood his ground. ‘Sir—'

The Brigadier advanced on him then, casting his eye about for a weapon and wishing he had his riding crop to hand with which to give the blackguard a thrashing. ‘I don't know what you think you're playing at, Bowen, but I can assure you I'm not having any of it!'

‘But, sir, let me explain—'

‘Explain? What, that you intend to go through my daughters until you find one to your liking, or, having ruined them all, move on to some other unfortunate family? Good God, man—'

‘It's not like that at all, sir!'

‘Indeed?'

‘I've had nothing whatsoever to do with Georgia; it's Sasha I want, and Sasha I love.'

‘Really? Then why didn't you marry her in the first place?'