Chapter 9
The Return of Captain Crewe
By March 1944, the Crewe household in Simla consisted mainly of one man (Dad), three women (Mum, Sara, and I), one girl (Maggie), and our servants. Uncle Tom frequently visited us as well. Sara was doing better nearly three years after being widowed, and Maggie was now a darling 9-year-old school girl.
Around this time, a most unusual guest visited us. Colonel Arthur Miles was a very tall and distinguished-looking man, with fine white hair and large blue eyes, and The Captain was most delighted to receive him.
"This way," said Dad as Mum and the rest of us scrambled to the study, where we could spy on them at our leisure.
"Thank you," replied the colonel as he looked around our sitting room. He fixed his gaze upon our grand piano as he sat. Servants brought cups of tea and biscuits to the two men as they began to converse.
"It's been a while since we've had a colonel in this house," said Dad.
"To clarify, I'm colonel of an auxiliary forces division."
"Ah, are you with the Simla Rifles?"
"No, I'm here on business and thought I'd pay you a visit before returning to Assam."
"Assam? I own a tea business there."
Colonel Miles took a sip of tea.
"So I've heard. Your tea has a very pleasant aroma."
"Thank you."
Our guest put down his cup and continued, "Well, I suppose you're curious as to why I've come?"
"You do seem familiar. Do we know each other from the last war?"
"I don't believe so. However, you were highly recommended by several tea planters... friends of yours."
Miles glanced about before he leaned forward and spoke in a low voice.
"Might you be interested in helping with the war effort here in India?"
"I'm already involved in several volunteer projects, both here and in Assam."
"The Japanese have bombed Calcutta for nearly three years. Now, they are poised to invade by land from Burma."
"They would not!" Dad exclaimed softly.
"It seems that they will... Our intelligence indicates it, even though it would be quite costly and likely disastrous for them."
"What do you require of me?"
"Your previous service record and knowledge of the Northeast region would be invaluable. You travel there frequently on business, do you not?"
"Indeed, I do. I have a second home there as well."
"We would be most grateful for any assistance you could provide whenever you are there... as a special advisor to the 'Resistance', shall we say..."
"Help you with scallywagging?"
"Aye. You can choose to formally join us, if you wish."
"Thank you, Colonel. I will consider it."
Our guest nodded before rising to examine the piano. Dad followed suit.
"It's quite a beautiful instrument you have here," said Miles as he rested his hand gently upon the piano's side arm. "May I have a look?"
"Of course."
He leaned over and inspected some sheet music I had previously left on the piano stand.
"Perchance, do you have a singer in your family?"
"One of my daughters, yes."
"I will venture to guess that she is a coloratura soprano."
I clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp.
"How did you know?" asked Dad, surprised.
"The title of this aria translates to 'Hell's Vengeance Boils in My Heart', from Mozart's 'The Magic Flute'. Has she performed it yet?"
"She is singing for a local school's spring benefit concert next month."
"I would be delighted to come and see her perform."
Sara and I glanced at each other.
"You shall receive an invitation from me personally, Colonel."
"Good. I may need her help with entertaining troops as well."
Dad nodded, but in truth he did not expect me to do anything of the sort. For although he loved me dearly, I was still an American.
#
After our visitor left, pandemonium ensued in our previously tranquil home.
"The nerve of that man, demanding that you get involved at your age!" Mum protested.
Dad merely shrugged. "It is an honor to serve one's country at any age. Besides, I had heard about Colonel Miles from friends in Assam. He seems to be a fine fellow who fought courageously during the Great War."
"Will you join him, then?" I asked.
"I will give it some thought. If my expertise is required only during the course of doing ordinary business, then of course I shall help."
"But Ralph, darling..." Mum pleaded. He put his hands upon her shoulders and tried to reassure her.
"Let me think about it, Liz. Everything will be all right."
She nodded reluctantly before he went out and proceeded towards the garden behind our house.
#
The next month, as I rehearsed "The Magic Flute" at school, Japan invaded India by land at Imphal. Fighting would last until July, and Dad carefully monitored his tea business while frequently conversing on the phone with his associates and Colonel Miles. At home, he continued to carry on as if normality still ruled the day. However, whenever he did venture out to Assam, he always traveled with a group of tea planters or retired soldiers like himself.
We were constantly anxious whenever he took his trips to the Northeast, but as news of victories against the Japanese reached us, we took courage and kept up our hopes. Every time Dad came home, Mum would cling to him as if she could never let him go.
"My dear, you don't have to worry. The battles on the border have not come anywhere near our lands, and we are pushing the enemy back into Burma on every front."
But still we worried, and I felt an unwelcome burden gnawing at my heart. As April drew to a close, I felt more relieved. Conversely, Dad grew more anxious. Whenever he was in Simla, he would walk about the house, observing everyone intently. Sometimes, he would even watch me sing an entire aria during practice.
"Dad, what's wrong?" I asked him one afternoon.
"Nothing. Colonel Miles is looking forward to your performance this Friday. Your Uncle Tom will be coming, too."
I clapped my hands together.
"Uncle Tom? Fantastic!"
"What's so fantastic about it?"
"Because he'll drive up the auction! You are going to give five thousand rupees this year, aren't you?"
I was pleased to see him look a bit unnerved.
"That's quite a bit more than last year..."
"The school is helping starving orphans from Burma."
"Well, maybe we can get your uncle to give more this year."
"Ah, but you know he is a cheapskate!"
With that, we laughed off our worries and I went back to practicing. But his pensiveness did seem a bit unusual, for even Sara remarked about it.
"Becky, does Papa seem a little too quiet these days?" she asked me one night as we prepared for bed.
"He does, and he stares at me all the time now. It's quite annoying, actually."
Sara tittered a bit.
"He watched Maggie play with her dolls last night, and he seemed more like an observer than a grandfather."
Suddenly she gasped. "You don't think he's having one of those frights again?"
"I hope not. I thought he had recovered."
"Is Colonel Miles still coming to see you perform?"
"He is."
"But I don't understand... Don't they need him there? How could he spare the time to travel here?"
This was a question that troubled Dad as well. The next day, he met Miles at The Simla Hotel and discussed it over a hot lunch.
"The auxiliary welcomes you," said Colonel Miles.
"Thank you. I felt compelled to join after the Japanese invaded. But with all the battles going on, how did you manage to travel here?"
Miles leaned forward.
"As you know, recently we defeated them in a series of skirmishes."
"Yes, for which I am most grateful."
"Among the items they left behind, we found a trove of secret information about our operations in the Northeast. You see, we had defeated the enemy because they were starving. But if they had been healthy... and their operations and supplies functional, that information they possessed could have helped them defeat us."
The Captain's jaw dropped.
"How is this possible?"
"Some vital lines of communication were no doubt compromised. Even though our enemy has been mostly vanquished, they seem to know how to evade us. Thank God for the Americans. At least they haven't been compromised yet."
"Most alarming. Who or what is behind it?"
"Perhaps some contractors working for us who may be Indian Nationalists or Axis sympathizers. But we need proof."
"How can I help?"
Colonel Miles cleared his throat. "Actually, your daughter might be very helpful in this regard..."
"My daughter?" replied The Captain, who was sure he had heard wrong.
"We intercepted some intel written on sheet music that was intended for the Japanese. We also questioned certain war captives and received some clues about the enemy. It seems that the head of this spy ring has a passion for opera. Most notably, he or she lamented the dearth of opera houses in India."
"A spy who loves opera," mused The Captain.
"If your daughter is willing, perhaps she could help..."
"Absolutely not. Besides, she's an American."
"Our ally! All the better, than."
The Captain shook his head.
"No, I don't want her to be involved."
"Have you no confidence in her?"
"If this were any other circumstance, I would tell her to go conquer the world. But you are asking for her to participate in a military operation!"
The colonel sat back in his chair.
"You must love her very much."
"I do... She will always be my dear little Rebecca."
"Well, you see, we do have a problem. That is... we must catch any enemy combatants as soon as we can, but this dastardly weather in Assam, as you know..."
Miles took in a deep breath through his mouth as Dad raised an eyebrow.
"We are in the middle of a sweltering monsoon summer, and at least half of the singers I've recruited for this operation have fallen ill - especially the ladies. Come to think of it, even your daughter might not be..."
The Captain shook his head.
"She is perfectly healthy and accustomed to the climate there."
"Splendid. I would take every measure to protect her. Would you think about it?"
"I will give you my reply tomorrow. But how do you know she would be suitable for your operation?"
"Hasn't she sung in European opera houses before?"
"She has, but would it matter to you if she were a different... color?"
Miles knit his eyebrows together. "What do you mean?"
Dad gazed at the colonel with his brilliant, piercing green eyes.
"Rebecca is Black. I adopted her from New York."
Miles laughed and swiftly brushed aside any concerns.
"Well, I don't care if she is purple or green, as long as she can help us catch those bastards!"
#
When The Captain left early on Friday morning, he informed us that due to some urgent business, he would be late to the Gaiety Theatre that night.
"Don't worry, I won't miss the donations at the end," he said before giving Mum a kiss.
He grinned in his usual proud manner and placed a hand on my shoulder.
"You will do well, I have no doubt about it, Rebecca."
He turned away before I could say another word and embraced Sara; then he picked up Maggie and gave her a kiss. She brushed her finger through his whiskers before he set her down.
"See you tonight, Grandpapa!" she waved.
He put on his hat and waved back before leaving us.
"Don't worry, Becky," said Sara afterwards. "I'm sure Papa would not miss your arias for anything."
However, by the time the concert was to start that evening, there was still no sign of Dad anywhere.
"Oh dear," said Mum. "I wonder where he is? He wasn't at his office, either."
"Take your seat before it's too late, Mum," said Sara.
As soon as they sat down in the front row of the theatre, Uncle Tom trotted in and plopped down on the seat next to his sister.
"Ralph told me to keep you company until he could get here."
"You spoke with him? Where is he? What is he doing?"
He shrugged.
"Some important business," he said. "Usually that means talking to his accountants or lawyers. Who knows?"
Our school production of "The Magic Flute" went very well. I performed my two arias with as much expressive vengeful hatred as I could muster, and I knew I had succeeded when the younger children in the audience began to whimper. I did not see Dad, but remained confident that he had kept his promise, even if it meant he was standing at the back of the theatre or even in the rafters.
When our show was over, I donned my finest purple and white tulle evening gown and returned to the stage with our Principal, Mrs. Cleaver.
"Thank you all for coming tonight! So far, we have raised more than ten thousand rupees for the school! Our students have worked so hard and are most grateful for your patronage!" she announced.
At this, Uncle Tom stood up and hollered, "I will donate two thousand more if the Queen of the Night would sing an encore!"
The crowd cheered, much to my simultaneous delight and dismay. For I could not be sure that I was prepared for any of Uncle Tom's songs.
"Goodness, I'm flattered," I replied as I grinned at him. But he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled even louder.
"Please, you should sing 'Signore, Ascolta!' Seriously, you should!" he said as he pointed towards the back of the room.
It was a most peculiar request, since Uncle Tom's favorite "opera" had always been "The Pirates of Penzance".
"Anyone else want to donate?" asked Mrs. Cleaver eagerly.
Just in the nick of time, a gloriously familiar voice rang in my ears.
"I will donate twice as much for a song from the Queen of the Night."
Delighted, I turned to my right and looked down, expecting to see Dad, but he remained in the shadows.
"Now, that is a voice I recognize. But won't you please come forward and make your offer?" I teased.
"Yes, please come up, because you would be our largest donor!" said my ecstatic school principal.
"If you insist."
We waited as the sound of his footsteps backstage drew closer.
"Does everyone here know who is coming? Wanna guess?" I baited.
The audience, who mostly knew Dad, burst into laughter. Mrs. Cleaver gestured towards stage right in anticipation of the man about to make his appearance.
"Everyone, let's give a warm welcome to..."
I gasped. Someone had emerged from the shadows, but his appearance greatly jarred me and I struggled to recognize him, despite his familiar gait and mannerisms. I looked down at the audience, where Mum, Sara, and Maggie's mouths dropped open.
"Mister Crewe?" said the stunned principal.
The audience murmured as I stared in astonishment at our top donor, a determined man who looked years younger without his gray beard. He was neat as a pin in his white jacket, black cummerbund and bow tie. His short gray hair and smooth, shaven chin reflected the stage lights, but his luminous, piercing green eyes still stood out beneath those hooded lids.
"My dear," he said to me, "I would greatly appreciate it if you would sing a song for me and my friend," he continued as he glanced at the audience. "He is leaving early tomorrow morning for Assam."
Suddenly, I realized I was staring at a captain, albeit one who wore no badges or decorations. Nevertheless, it was clear he was still a member of the military. I swallowed hard as a cyclone of fury arose within me.
"I see," I said with an uncharacteristic iciness in my voice. "If you would take a seat – Captain - I will sing for you and your friend."
He winced a bit and looked almost hurt.
"Very well, sing whatever you like," he said, as if he already knew how I felt.
With his hands behind his back, he swiveled towards the audience and gave Mum and Sara a sharp, confident grin before returning to his seat.
"Was that your father, Sara?" asked Mum.
"Papa..." Sara whispered.
"But he had no whiskers," Maggie whispered.
Uncle Tom stood up and stretched.
"Whew! Glad I saved some money. But," he looked at me and said loudly, "I still suggest that you sing 'Signore, ascolta'!"
I nodded and went to speak with the accompanist, Miss Brown. Through the quiet din of the audience I thought I heard Colonel Miles asking, "What will she sing, you think?"
"She's rather cross at me right now, so it will probably be the angry song of a mad woman," replied The Captain, whose reply no doubt left his questioner bewildered.
I nodded resolutely and glared in his direction. The rest of the audience eagerly awaited my performance with no inkling of the pain simmering in my heart. A simple piano introduction to my aria began, and I promptly sang my state of mind right through it.
Sir, listen! Ah, sir, listen!
Liu can bear no more!
Her heart is breaking! My, how long I've walked
With your name in my soul
With your name on these lips!
Memories of Miss Minchin's school, Sara's torment, her banishment to the attic, that terrible rainy night when we were nearly dragged off to jail – all of it went through me as I sang my way to the end of an agonizing performance.
But if your destiny
Tomorrow, will be decided,
We will die on the road of exile.
He'll lose his son
I, the shadow of a smile.
Liù can bear no more! Ah! Ah!
By the last note, I was so overcome by grief that I sank to my knees and covered my face, sobbing. The audience thought nothing of it and erupted with shouts of "Bravo! Bravo!" as they rose to their feet for a standing ovation. But I wept as I thought of The Captain leaving us for war a second time.
I felt a handkerchief placed gently in my hand and looked up to see his familiar green eyes gazing at me. But my own fury erupted again, and I withdrew my hand from his. Quickly, I dabbed at my eyes and arose to acknowledge the audience. Mum and Sara were teary-eyed, and I saw stunned amazement on Uncle Tom's face. I finished my bows and hurried backstage to compose myself.
"Brava! Bravissima!" shouted my students and fellow teachers as I passed by.
I nodded and went straight to my changing room, where I shut the door and tried to breathe.
#
We were all quiet on the ride home – Maggie was sound asleep as the rest of us brooded. Dad had matters to discuss with Uncle Tom, so we had not expected him to be at the house, waiting impatiently for our arrival with the phone in his hand.
"Ralph, darling!" greeted Mum as we stepped inside.
He slammed the phone down and marched up to me in a fury that I had not seen in years.
"Rebecca, what on earth did you promise Colonel Miles?!"
I arched my back and gave him a stiff smile.
"I asked him if you were a captain again. Then I asked if... there was anything I could do to help. He told me, and I agreed to entertain troops at the border."
"Is that all? Do you realize what you've done?!"
"That's all. And yes, I know very well what I've done."
"No! You don't even know what this means!"
"Why are you so surprised? After all, you didn't tell us you were going to rejoin!"
"That is different!" he thundered.
I shook my head. "I don't think so. Right, Sara?"
"Why didn't you tell us, Papa?" she asked.
"Yes, why?" Mum added.
"Because you wouldn't have wanted me to go. I know this is difficult for all of you to understand, but I must fulfill my duty."
"Your duty!" exclaimed Mum. "You know what we've all suffered in the past war, and you would put us through this again?!"
"Now I know how Sara must have felt, when you left her in New York," I added to further twist the knife into his heart.
Stunned, his anger subsided a bit as he glanced at my sister.
"This is not like last time... It's only part-time volunteer... we will all be fine."
"Good! Then I'm going with you to Assam," I replied in defiance.
His fiery green eyes rested upon me again.
"You will do nothing of the sort! You will stay right here with your Mum and sister in Simla!"
I crossed my arms.
"Sorry Captain, but I made a promise to a colonel. Now, you wouldn't want me to break it, would you?"
His eyes narrowed. As for me, although I had kept a stoic expression throughout, truthfully inside I was quaking.
"Sara, come with me."
The Captain fumed as Sara followed him into his study and shut the door. Mum and I glanced at each other.
"He has something to tell you, for sure," she said wryly.
"Then why is Sara in there instead of me?"
"Because he feels more comfortable asking Sara to tell you things."
Inside the study, Sara tried hard not to lecture him as he paced back and forth.
"Sara, speak with your sister, please."
"About what, Papa?"
He stopped and shut his eyes, letting out a sigh.
"She calls me 'Captain' whenever she is mad at me. Not that it happens much, mind you... but after all these years, I would've thought she understood that I am her..." his voice trailed off as he became lost in his thoughts.
"Her what?"
"Maybe... maybe I have no right..." he croaked, his chin down.
"No, say it, Papa. You are her WHAT?"
After a moment's reflection, he announced, "I am her dad! Just like I am yours!"
"Well then, I think it's about time you two talk with each other instead of going through me," Sara said with her sweet grin.
Mum and I waited anxiously until she came out and shut the door behind her.
"Whew! I've never seen him so mad at you, Becky!" Sara laughed. "But dear sister, you know how much he loves you."
"Someone has to go to Assam with him," I insisted. "Besides, I'm able to tolerate the hot weather there better than any of you."
"True. I love the hill country, but I would fall ill within days," said Mum. "Maggie would probably suffer, too."
"Would you look after him for us, then?" asked Sara as she took my hands in hers. "We will call each other every night."
"I promise," I said as I gave her hand a squeeze.
We were surprised when the study door opened and out stepped The Captain. He looked exhausted, but I was not about to let him pass so easily.
I faced Sara and told her bluntly, "Do you know what it was like to listen to you cry, night after night in Miss Minchin's attic after they told us Dad had died?"
Stricken, The Captain stopped to listen to us.
"I beg your pardon, Sara, but sometimes I almost wish you'd left me in New York! Then I wouldn't have to care so much!"
"Becky, please..." said Sara, but I was not about to be overruled.
"For years, I couldn't even imagine what it was like to have a family... I figured that someday, I'd earn just enough to be free and roam the country... until at last I would lie down in a green field somewhere and die... alone."
I clutched at my locket.
"Maybe I'd prefer that kind of pain to what to what I feel right now..."
"Rebecca..." I looked up as Mum called to me softly, her eyes glistening.
"I know I have no right to speak this way, after all you've done for me..."
I glanced at The Captain.
"But if he DIES doing his so-called duty, I will never forgive him! Never!"
Sara reached and wrapped her arms around me. Sobbing, I tore myself away from her and ran upstairs to my room.
#
The next morning, I awoke with a headache and dreaded going to breakfast as Sara came into my bedroom.
"No! No sunlight!" I growled with my eyes shut, as if I were a vampire.
I heard my curtains being opened, and instantly a bright light flooded the room. I propped myself up at once.
"That's it! I'm gonna get you, Sara!"
She laughed as she ran from me, but just as I climbed out of bed, I became aware of the presence of another person in the room who was watching us anxiously. The sight of him rendered me mute.
He cleared his throat and said, "Good morning, Rebecca."
At once I retreated underneath my covers as he took a step forward.
"I... came to see if you were all right... after last night."
"I'm all right. No need to worry," I said, but I could not look him in the eye. The ensuing seconds of silence were torture. I peeked and saw Sara urging him to say more.
"I want to apologize... for being so angry last night. I realize you only had the best of intentions, no matter how misguided..."
Sara gave him that same look Mum always gave whenever he had said the wrong thing. He cleared his throat and tried again.
"I meant, ignorant. But in either case, Colonel Miles assured me this morning that he greatly appreciates your offer of help and... and..."
By now Dad's awkward attempts at an apology (he was never very good at them) was sending me into titters.
"Why don't you get dressed and come downstairs for breakfast, Becky," suggested Sara. "We'll wait for you."
When I went downstairs at last, everyone was already seated at the table in our breakfast nook.
"Come on, Aunt Becky!" Maggie beckoned to the only empty seat at the table. Gingerly I sat down between Dad and Sara as they passed the butter.
"I'm sorry," I said to him softly. "I don't know what came over me last night. When I saw you on stage, hardly recognizable, I..."
He seemed amused as he leaned forward to fetch a piece of toast.
"I think I knew how you felt based on the way you sang that aria last night. I thought you were about to have an apoplectic fit. But how on earth did you know I had rejoined...?"
"Everything about you gave it away," I replied nonchalantly.
"I see..." he scratched his head as he passed me the bacon. "I didn't mean to upset you."
I shook my head and leaned closer to his ear.
"You're too good, really. Look, I'd never had a dad until you. So... I worked really hard to never be a burden or a disappointment..."
Suddenly I felt like I was 11 years old again, and I stifled the wave of sobs that threatened to arise and overcome me.
"I was terrified whenever it seemed I might lose you or Sara. Somehow, I thought if we were strangers again... it wouldn't be so painful."
Sara quickly put her arm around me as he sighed.
"Dear Rebecca, trying so hard to be perfect. What did you think would happen if you were not?"
"Somehow, I thought that all the wonderful things you and Dad had given me... that magic... would all be taken away."
"Oh Becky, never. We would never do that," she said as she gave me a big squeeze. "I am so proud of you and the way you performed last night. Look at how far you've come!"
My dear sister! I couldn't help but hug her back.
"Yes, we are all so proud," Mum added. "You brought everyone to tears with your encore."
"But I thought you didn't like that song very much, Aunt Becky," said Maggie.
"It's a slave begging her master not to go risk death, you know..."
Dad chuckled.
"I thought so. But you were fabulous. Even Colonel Miles said so."
At last I had a reason to smile.
"I couldn't do it without all of your support."
Dad put down his fork and reached into his side pocket.
"Do you know what I always carry on me?"
Out came a photograph taken during that wonderful summer of 1939.
"It was the last time we were all together. Never forget, Rebecca, that you are a part of this. OUR family. I hope you realize that I... that we all love you because you are ours, and nothing else."
I nodded.
"How times change. I can still remember when it was just Sara, you, and I in the world. Then came Mum and the twins... but the boys are gone now."
"Indeed, that is the way things are for now," he said as he lightly patted me on the shoulder. Then he beamed at each one of us around the table.
"It doesn't matter whether we are here or yonders. I will always belong to you, and vice versa."
I dabbed at my eyes.
"Well, sire, you see how we all love you. Must you then go serve in this terrible war?"
He was sad but resolute in his reply.
"Can I not give back to my nation? I think not. Even now, in my limited ability, I must help my king, my country, and most of all... India."
He said "India" with a wistfulness that made Sara smile wistfully, too.
"I remember, Papa... that evening before we left for New York, when you looked out my bedroom window and told me that India was a land that stirred the imagination."
"Yes, I do recall," he smiled. "That dense jungle foliage, the smell of wild flowers, the sights and sounds of India... Soon, I must be off to help defend this beautiful land, until it no longer needs me."
We were quiet for a moment as we recalled the India of our youth. For several years, political developments had portended that our time in this enchanted place might soon come to an end.
"Maggie, won't you give your grandpapa a hug?" Mum urged, to cheer him up. But Maggie shook her head.
"He still doesn't look like Grandpapa."
Dad smiled and reached into his pocket again.
"Shall I show you what I looked like when I married your Grandmama?"
He took out another picture and beckoned to his granddaughter. Curious, she came to him and studied it.
"This was taken on our wedding day, nearly a quarter of a century ago."
The little girl's eyes widened.
"You haven't changed much, Grandmama!"
"Thank you, Maggie. That was one of the happiest days of my life."
"Cheerio," said Uncle Tom as he stepped on to the veranda. "So this is where everyone's been..."
Maggie told him excitedly, "We were just about to hear how Grandpapa and Grandmama got married!"
Uncle Tom smirked as he pulled up a chair to the table.
"Very simple, really. I introduced them. But what a slow courtship!"
Dad glared at Uncle Tom with raised eyebrows.
"Slow? I married her in six months. I would hardly call that slow!"
"It should have been a month at most! Now, let me tell you how they met..."
Mum warned, "Tom, she is nine years old."
"Very well, I shall tell you the fairy tale version," he half-sneered.
"Once upon a time, Miss Elizabeth Amy Carrisford ran away from an arranged marriage in England. You see, after she had lost her beloved fiancé in the Great War, her parents had arranged for her to marry a wealthy but much older gentleman."
"Against her will?" cried Maggie.
"Yes. Liz, as she was called, knew that her only hope of escape was to flee on the first ship to South Africa, where her brother worked. In the middle of the night, her beloved nanny smuggled her out of the house and took her to the port."
"I hid in the laundry basket!" Mum laughed.
"However, when she arrived, much to her dismay she received word that her brother had returned to India. Fortunately, one of his trusted associates offered to accompany her to Bombay, where I happened to be on business. I was so happy to see my youngest sister..."
"Happy? You wrinkled your nose and treated me like a pest!"
"She's exaggerating! Naturally, when we arrived in Simla, I introduced her to my best friend Ralph... He seemed quite taken by her from the beginning."
"She was a great conversationalist," replied Dad. "We had something in common. She lost her fiancé in the Great War, where I nearly perished myself."
"The war did seem to be mostly what you talked about..." said Tom.
"It was NOT the only thing we talked about," Mum interjected as she glanced in Sara and my direction. "I met the girls a few times and we took a liking to each other, too."
I grinned in agreement with my sister.
"We knew right away there was something special about you," said Sara.
"Yes, they fancied each other," continued Uncle Tom to Maggie. "Which is why what your Grandfather did next made no sense at all..."
"It made perfect sense if you had seen what I'd seen," Dad replied.
"What did you see, Papa?" asked Sara, her wide eyes full of the same kind of curiosity and wonder that she had ever since she was a child.
"Perhaps your mum..." he glanced at his wife, who gave him a charming grin.
"I'm curious myself. Tell them, darling."
"Well, I did enjoy your company right away..."
"I knew it! But why did you become so cold?"
"One night, at General Sanders' ball, I believe..."
"Oh yes, the worst night of my life!" Mum declared.
"I brought a yellow rose..."
"For me?"
"Who else? I saw you by the fountain... so beautiful under the moonlight, when..."
Here Dad's face fell, as if that moment still pained him nearly a quarter of a century later.
"I won't forget how you threw your arms around the neck of that young blond officer with the full head of hair."
"Young officer... But you were young, too," Mum objected.
Dad shook his head.
"Not compared to him. That man was ten years younger than me and seemed like the perfect match for you..."
"Ah, so you thought she was in love with Peter!" exclaimed my uncle.
"Naturally. I thought he would be a far better match for her. And so I cast the rose aside and left."
"Poor little flower," whispered Maggie.
"I saw you leave," said Mum. "I was just about to introduce you to Peter, too. You remained stiff and cold for the rest of the evening and avoided me. It hurt me a lot."
Dad took Mum's hand in his and gently rubbed it.
"I'm sorry," he said as he gazed at her with an intense affection that I could only hope for from a future husband.
"You were so cruel. You wouldn't even come to my birthday party."
"I wanted to, but I couldn't bear the thought of seeing you and Peter laughing and dancing together. Besides, there was a rumor that "The Jewel of Simla" was to be engaged that night..."
"The Jewel of Simla?" whispered Maggie with a wide-eyed smile.
"That was your grandmother's nickname back then. She was so beautiful... still is, by the way."
"I was furious when you didn't come to the party," said Uncle Tom. "If she hadn't shown up in time, I would have knocked you senseless."
"He was shocked to see me at his front door in my red evening gown," Mum bent over and told us.
#
"Why didn't you come tonight?" Liz half-pleaded. "I missed you..."
"I thought you were getting engaged to that young blond fellow... You should return to him..."
He looked away, hardly knowing how to contain himself. It took a moment for her to ascertain who he meant.
"You mean... I should marry my cousin Peter?"
He swiveled around and stared at her.
"Your cousin...?"
She stepped forward and placed her hand over his pounding heart.
"My cousin. Besides, there's another man I'd much rather be with."
The Captain wanted so badly to hold her at that moment, but he shook his head and backed away.
"Then... go find someone like your cousin to marry."
This time, his words stung and her eyes filled with tears. He nervously grabbed at his tie in a futile attempt to straighten it.
"Why do you keep talking like this? I thought we got along!"
"You should be with a man who has no... ghosts that haunt him..."
"Ghosts! Do you think I care about that?"
He stared at the roots of the Roxburghi pine tree beside him and said nothing. Undeterred, she put her hand on his shoulder.
"Let me guess... you think I should be with someone my age?"
"Of course."
"A wealthy man?"
"If you like."
"One with no children?"
"None to burden you."
"A man who would sleep soundly at night, because he could never have any nightmares from the war?"
"Yes..." replied The Captain, who had studiously avoided eye contact with her.
"You know all about my late fiancé Tad, who had expected to fight an easy war for six months before coming home to marry me... and then he died in France."
Dad nodded.
"I am so terribly sorry, Elizabeth. Men like us... we've seen things no one should ever have to see or experience..."
"Then... Would you have me marry someone who could not possibly comprehend what it is like to wait for your loved one, only to have the day of disaster strike?"
Ralph did not know what to say as she began to cry.
"Would you condemn me to a life of loneliness, never able to truly speak of my loss with someone who understood?"
He could not answer but hung his head in anguish. She came to him and searched his eyes for any feeling to be had.
"Tell me that you do not care for me one whit. I will leave as soon as you say it."
He parted his trembling lips, but no sound came forth.
#
Back at our serene breakfast table, Sara, Maggie, and I stared at Dad and Mum, wide-eyed.
"I didn't realize you were in such despair, Papa," said Sara as Maggie began to sob.
"Oh, what a heartbreaking story!" the little girl cried.
Dad chuckled as he went over and gave his granddaughter a hug.
"It's all right, Maggie. I did marry your grandmother, did I not?"
He then surprised us all by reaching over and giving Mum a loud smack on the lips.
"That was not very proper," said Mum, who feigned indignation.
"I don't care. It's our last family breakfast here before I leave for Assam. Tom will stay with you to look after everything, of course."
The mood at the table grew quiet again, but we were saved by a little girl who knew how to divert to another subject when needed.
"What about you, Uncle Tom? Why haven't you ever gotten married?" asked Maggie in all her innocence.
"Ah... I haven't met that special lady yet," Uncle Tom replied in his usual charming but annoyed manner.
I bit my tongue, for I knew the real reason why he had remained unattached. Years ago, when Sara and I were still in school, Mum had divulged it. Now she retold the story again to Maggie.
"Your Uncle Tom was very much in love with a working-class girl named Annabelle, but our parents were adamantly opposed to the match. They wanted him to marry an American heiress instead. Uncle Tom had the idea of running away with Annabelle, but her parents found out and forbade him from ever seeing her again."
Maggie gasped and asked, "What happened to Annabelle?"
"She died the next year, presumably of a broken heart."
"That is just so unfair and sad," said Sara.
"Liz, you didn't have to tell them all that," said Uncle Tom. But he seemed pleased to receive our attention and sympathy, nevertheless.
"That's life, sometimes," said Mum. "I'm just glad I had met my husband."
"I remember how you and Dad got engaged," I chimed in. "Sara and I were watching from our upstairs bedroom window the entire time."
#
We giggled as we watched Dad take Liz in his arms under the moonlight.
"Instead of saying, 'I lost my fiancé', I want to be able to say, 'my husband miraculously survived, and I am so grateful'," said Liz.
"Dear Elizabeth," said Dad as they touched foreheads. "Will you marry me?"
"Absolutely, I would," said Liz, whose countenance had changed from gloom to radiance.
"Congratulations on your engagement!" announced Tom Carrisford as he came out of the shadows, startling the couple.
"Engagement? Oh, I should get a ring, shouldn't I?" replied his befuddled future brother-in-law.
"No need," said Tom as he took a jewelry box from his coat pocket and opened it. "I have one here, see? It's a Burmese ruby flanked with diamonds from our mines. Compensation for your investment, Ralph."
"I like it," said Liz. "But it does seem a bit awkward to be getting an engagement ring from my own brother."
"I'm just the jewelry seller. Here," said Tom as he thrust the ring into Dad's hand.
The Captain beamed at Liz. Then they both looked at Tom.
"I am not here," said Tom as he quickly backed away from them.
Once he was out of sight, Dad took Liz by the hand.
"Liz, will you marry me?" he asked her in his charming English lilt.
"Of course," said Liz. She accepted the ring upon her finger before she threw her arms around him with all the joy in the world.
Upstairs, we girls could hardly contain ourselves. Papa looked up at our window and saw us jumping for joy.
"You can come down now, girls. Meet your new mum."
Sara and I gave a loud hurrah before we ran downstairs and out into the garden.
"You do like my girls, I hope?" asked Dad in a playful tone. "When I am away on business, you won't turn into an evil stepmother?"
"You know we get along well," she said as we bounded towards them. They gave both of us hugs.
Two months later, Sara and I served as bridesmaids at their wedding in the gorgeous Kangra Valley just north of Simla in the Himalayan foothills. It was a perfect day for the right woman to marry our dad.
"Now Papa will never be lonely," Sara declared as we watched them cut their wedding cake.
#
"Alas, now you will be separated again," said Sara after listening to my tale.
"Temporarily perhaps," Dad replied as he smiled reassuringly at Mum. "I will be back soon, I promise."
Mum nodded. "I've charged Rebecca with looking after you."
His smile gave way to a tight-lipped frown.
"To be honest, I'd much rather that she stay here. We have servants in Assam who can look after things... Ram Dass will be there, too."
I bit my lip and arose from my chair. His words had made my good intentions seem like naught.
"I should pack my things. Excuse me."
Mum must have read my thoughts, because she arose and followed me into my bedroom.
"Don't mind him, dearie. He loves you but sometimes he doesn't know how to express it. Take care of him for us..."
"Mum, I promise you, I won't leave Dad's side no matter what."
She nodded before we were startled by the sound of a knock on my bedroom door. I opened it and there stood Dad in the hallway.
"The train leaves at three O'clock, so be ready by two."
"Yes, Dad," I said as he turned away.
Surprised, he whirled back around and stared at me suspiciously with his brilliant green eyes. Then he nodded and departed to his bedroom. I felt my legs weaken and I braced myself against the wall.
"Oh boy, I'm not so sure I can do this now. I mean, we'll be traveling for nearly three days! What would we talk about?"
Mum smiled and patted my shoulder.
"Oh, I'm sure there will be a lot for you to catch up on..." she said with a mischievous look in her eyes. "Good luck, sweetheart. We will miss you. Now, go amaze those people with your beautiful voice."
She made me feel so lovely that I almost did not want to leave.
"I'll do my best, Mum."
After she left, I stood by my bed in a daze as I tried to think of what to do next.
"Ah, yes! I will put my music in one bag and..."
"Rebecca," I heard a forlorn-sounding voice behind me calling.
I was startled to see The Captain standing in my doorway, looking pale and anxious. He came in and softly shut the door.
"Dad?"
"Thank you for going with me this time..."
"It's my pleasure..."
"I'm not so sure it will be such a pleasure..." he said as he looked down at the floor. Now I was worried.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I didn't tell anyone at breakfast... but when I was out early this morning in the woods..."
He shook his head in disbelief as he sat down on my bed.
"I nearly had a fright. It's been years since I've had one..."
I gasped and sat down beside him. At times, Dad still suffered from lingering effects of being a soldier in World War I.
"Was it the morning fog?"
He nodded. Suddenly, he seemed so much more fragile than before.
"Don't tell Mum or Sara... they'll worry. I wanted you to know, in case it happens in Assam."
"I won't tell," I promised as I involuntarily hugged him. He did not resist it. Now, how I wished we could stay in Simla instead of venturing out so far to Assam.
O Assam! What unknown adventures awaited us there!
