The Winter Rose (112 page)

Looking around, he saw a hill about half a mile away. He rode to the
top of it, then took out his field glasses to see if he could spot any
movement. Any animals. The white of a woman's blouse. Charlotte's blond
hair. Anything. He took his time, careful to inspect every inch of the
landscape.

He kept looking, kept hoping against hope, but he saw only hills,
brush, and grass. He had nearly completed a full sweep of the area when
something glinted at him. He squinted against the brightness. A watering
hole, he thought. The sun was directly overhead; its rays must be
reflecting off it. He looked away, but something pulled his eyes back to
the glinting. It was about a mile due east of where he was.

"If that's a watering hole, it's the smallest one in all of Africa,"
he said to himself. There was no mud around it. No ruts and gouges in
the earth from claws and hooves. But there was something near it... it
looked like a shadow on the grass. A large, circular shadow. The only
thing was, there was nothing nearby to cast that shadow.

"It's a game pit," he said. "They've fallen into a game pit."

Seconds later he was racing down the hill toward it. He lashed his horse mercilessly, shouted at it to go faster.

"Please, please let them be all right," he begged.

He pulled up on the reins a few yards from the pit, jumping off the horse before it had stopped, stumbling to the edge.

"India!" he shouted. "Charlotte! Are you in there?"

He saw two bodies at the bottom of the pit, a woman's and a girl's.
The woman was lying motionless. The little girl was sitting up, cradling
the woman's head in her lap.

"India... oh, God, no. Charlotte! Charlotte, can you hear me?"

The little girl lifted her dirty, tear-streaked face. "Mr. Baxter,"
she said weakly, blinking in the sun. Then she turned and gently touched
her mother's cheek. "Mummy, wake up. It's Mr. Baxter. He's come for us.
I knew he would. Mummy, please wake up."

India had died.

She knew she had. The thirst had driven her mad, and then it had

killed her. She had fought to hang on for Charlotte's sake, but she'd lost the battle.

Wish was with her now. He silently pressed her hand between his. It
was hard for him to talk with half of his face gone. Hugh was here, too.
He put the pair of dragonfly combs into her hands and folded her
fingers closed over them. He'd told her he loved her, but others did,
too, and she must stay with them.

"Open your eyes, India," he said.

She'd tried, but it was so hard. Her lids were so heavy. Her body was
so tired. She could feel her heart, struggling to beat. Her lungs,
straining to draw air and push it out again.

"India, please, please open your eyes."

A different voice now. Not Hugh's. She tried again to do what the
voice wanted. And this time she succeeded. She didn't know where she
was, but she could see flames. She saw their orange glow, felt their
heat. I'm in hell, she thought. No, I can't be. I've been there already.
Hell is the pit where I died. With Charlotte.

Charlotte.

India felt her blood surge through her veins at the thought of her
child. Where is she? Where is my daughter? She swallowed and tried to
speak, but her tongue felt thick, her throat rusty.

"Charlotte..." she rasped, struggling to sit up. A searing pain shot
through her skull, blurring her vision. She sank down again, overcome by
dizziness and nausea. "Charlotte, answer me," she whispered. "Please
answer me."

She felt a hand on her brow, heard a voice. "Shh, India. Charlotte's fine," a voice said. "She's here. She's asleep."

India suddenly knew the voice. "Sid...is that you?" She could barely see him. Her eyes wouldn't work properly.

"Yes, it's me," he said. She felt his hands on her. He gently raised
her up and held a canteen to her lips. She drank, then asked for more.

"Let that settle."

"You're dead, then. They hanged you," she said, her voice like sandpaper. "I ...I tried to stop them. I tried..."

"India..."

"Is this heaven, this place? It must be if you and Charlotte are here."

"India, listen to me. You've had a terrible time of it. You were
unconscious when I found you. I nearly lost you on the way here. Please
don't die on me, India. Please, please don't die."

"Where is here?"

"A campsite. By a river."

A river. The river they'd passed by with Freddie. Fear jolted through
her. "Go, Sid! Run! Freddie ...he'll kill you. He's killed people...."

"India, lie down."

"But Freddie..."

Sid pressed a spoon to her lips. A bitter-tasting fluid trickled down her throat.

"No!" she cried, fighting it. "No laudanum! We have to run."

"India, lie still! You have to rest now. I'm going to take you back to the house. You need a doctor."

India tried to get up again, but the drug made her dizzy. She lay back and wept.

"I used to be a doctor," she said, her voice breaking. "I used to
have a child. She was your child, Sid. I've lost her now. I've lost you.
I've lost everything... everything."

"Nothing's lost, India. Nothing. You'll be a doctor again if you
want. You'll begin again. We'll begin again, all three of us. Where the
world begins again."

India didn't understand. She was so tired. The man speaking sounded
so far away; his words made no sense. Nothing did. It was a dream. All
of it. Only a dream. She closed her eyes and fell into a deep and
deathlike sleep.

India smelled roses. Their warm, spicy scent delighted her.

Roses? How can that be? she wondered. The last things she had smelled were dirt and blood, fear and despair.

She opened her eyes. A vase of flawless ivory blooms stood on her night table.

"Do you like them, Mummy?" a little voice piped up.

It was Charlotte. She was sitting on the edge of a chair by the window, grinning.

"I picked them for you. They've only just bloomed. Joseph says that
Lady Wilton calls them her winter roses. Because of the color. Oh,
Mummy, I'm ever so glad you're awake!"

And then she was out of her chair, and across the room, and her arms were around India's neck.

"Darling Charlotte," India said. "You're alive, you're all right."
She held her tightly; her tears--of joy and gratitude--fell on
Charlotte's neck. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"It's all right, Mummy. We're fine and that's all that matters," Charlotte said.

After a few minutes India released her. Charlotte helped her sit up
and she realized she was back in her bedroom at the Wiltons' house. "How
did we get here?" she asked.

"Mr. Baxter brought us."

Sid. Sid had come for them. It was his arms she'd felt around her. His voice she'd heard. It hadn't been a dream.

"He found us, Mummy, just as I said he would. He pulled me out with a
rope. He had to get in the pit himself to get you out. He made a
harness, and he and I got the horses to pull you up. He took care of us
and brought us back here."

Sid had come here? India's happiness turned to terror. Freddie would
kill him. She flung back the bed covers and put her feet on the floor.
Nausea gripped her.

"Charlotte," she said, "where's Mr. Baxter now? Where's your father?"

"Mr. Baxter had to go. I wanted him to stay but he said he couldn't.
He left two days ago. The hyenas got Father. I heard the grown-ups
talking about it."

India blinked at her. "What?" she whispered. "My God. Charlotte, is he... is he dead?"

"I hope so. I never want him to come back. Never."

There was a knock on the door.

Mary entered the bedroom. "I thought I heard your voice! Oh, it's
good to see you awake, ma'am! But you must get back into bed!" She
hurried to India's side, eased her legs up off the floor, and pulled the
bedclothes back over her. "We were all so worried about you. How are
you feeling? Can I get you a pot of tea? Something to eat?"

"Mary, is my husband dead?"

"Oh, Charlotte!" Mary said, dismayed. "I said you weren't to tell your mother such things. Not yet. She's too frail."

"Is he?" India repeated, sharply this time.

"Yes, ma'am, he is. Mr. Baxter told us. He told Joseph where he'd
found him and Joseph sent two men to bring his remains back. They left
yesterday. I'm so very sorry, ma'am."

India lay back against her pillows. Mary, the servants, and the rest
of the world would expect her to feel sorrow, but she felt only relief.

"Where is Mr. Baxter?"

"He has left."

"Did he leave anything for me? A note?" India asked.

"No, ma'am."

"Nothing? Nothing at all?"

"He told me he was riding east. That was all he would say, I'm
afraid. I asked him to stay. I knew you would want to thank him in
person, but he refused. There's someone else here to see you, however. A
Mrs. Margaret Carr. She has a young man with her. His name is Seamus
Finnegan. I told her that you can't possibly receive them now. You're
far too weak. Not fit to be seen in your present condition."

"Oh, never mind about that," a woman's voice boomed. "It's only me who's seeing her."

"Mrs. Carr! You cannot come in here! I asked you to please be seated in the drawing room," Mary protested.

"And I told you I've no time for dilly-dallying. Get your missus a
wrapper, will you? Hello, Mrs. Lytton. I'm sorry to barge in like this,
but it's about Sid. There's a lot to tell you and we need to tell it
before Tom Meade arrives and he's only about half an hour behind me. You
decent, then? Good. Seamie! Come in! Hurry, lad!"

Seamie stepped into the room. India gasped, then recovered herself.
"I'm sorry. I thought for a second that you were someone else."

"Sid Baxter?"

She nodded.

"I'm his brother, Seamus Finnegan. I'm very pleased to meet you. And
pleased to see you again, Miss Lytton," he said, smiling at Charlotte.
"We met on the beach at Mombasa. Do you remember?"

Charlotte nodded and smiled.

"His brother. Sid's brother," India repeated wonderingly. Remembering
herself, she said, "Mary, please bring something for our guests."

"May I bring you tea, Mrs. Carr?" Mary said tightly.

"I'll want something stronger than tea," Maggie said. "I've been
riding nonstop for the last ten hours. I can barely feel my backside."

"Brandy and port, please, Mary," India said. "And sandwiches."

Mary left and Maggie and Seamie seated themselves, Maggie on the bed and Seamie in Charlotte's abandoned chair.

"What the devil happened to you, Mrs. Lytton? You look bloody awful. I
tried to get Madam there to tell me," she said, hooking her thumb in
the direction Mary had taken, "and you'd think from the look I got that
I'd asked what size drawers you wear."

Charlotte giggled. Maggie winked at her. India was happy to hear her
daughter laugh. She was worried that after everything she'd seen and
heard, everything that had happened to her, she might never laugh again.

India told Maggie and Seamie about the music box and what was inside
it. She told them what Freddie had done to them, and why, and that he
was now thought to be dead.

"The bloody bastard!" Maggie spat. "Hyenas are too good for him! He
should've lived to go to London! He should've had to answer the
charges!"

"Charges?" India echoed. "What charges? I don't understand."

"The Home office telegraphed Nairobi. They wanted to question your husband in connection with the Gemma Dean case," Maggie said.

"How do you know that?" India asked.

"I'm not supposed to. But Delamere's a good friend of mine, and he
told me that he was in a meeting with the governor when a telegram came
through from the home secretary. Apparently a man in London accused
Freddie of committing the murder. His name is Frankie Betts. He said he
saw it all. Saw Lytton kill the girl. Saw him take her jewelry. Gave a
sworn statement. That's why Meade's coming. To get Lytton. And that's
why we've come. To tell Sid. We hoped we could catch him, but we're too
late."

"If only we still had the jewelry," India said. "It would've helped to confirm Freddie's guilt, dead or alive."

"We do have it, Mummy," Charlotte said.

"But it was in the music box, darling. Don't you remember? And that's at the bottom of a river somewhere."

"No, it isn't. I have it. I stuffed it inside Jane's bloomers. Don't
you remember? I threw a piece at the lioness who was growling at us. Mr.
Baxter told me that's what saved us. He said he saw it sparkling in the
sun."

She ran out of the room, leaving India, Maggie, and Seamie to
exchange puzzled glances. In a few minutes she was back, her hands full
of jewels. She laid them on India's bed.

"Charlotte, you are a remarkable girl," Seamie said. Maggie tousled
her hair. India beamed at her. And Charlotte flushed at the praise.

India looked at the jewels. They were proof. Proof of Freddie's
treachery. They were also reminders of the lives he'd stolen. Someone
had died for every piece of jewelry she held--Hugh, Wish, Gemma Dean.
The sorrow she felt thinking about it was almost unbearable.

"Maggie, there's something I don't understand," she finally said.
"Sid saved us, but how did he get to us? He was in jail. And why would
he leave again so quickly? Charlotte told me he left yesterday."

Maggie and Seamie exchanged glances. "He escaped," Maggie said.

"How?" India asked.

"Charlotte, my girl, do you think you might be able to find old Mary
and see how she's coming with those sandwiches? Tell her not to bother
the cook too much. Just a bit of cheese and pickle on some bread will
do."

Charlotte nodded and skipped out of the room.

Maggie turned back to India and said, "The how of it is that he
over-powered Seamie and made him change places with him. Then he forced
me to walk him outside the prison. He tied me up in the Norfolk's barn
and took my horse." She gave India a long look. "At least that's what we
told the police."