Chapter 21

Arabella had never thought of herself as a vengeful person. She'd faced all the knocks of her life, the little hurts, the moments of humiliation, even the deep losses, with a kind of calm resignation never letting it change her essentially sweet nature. That had all changed when Tommy had been beaten half to death. Now, with every moan of pain and every bitter tear, the urge to strike out at those that had caused this horror grew. She understood now what had driven Tommy to take such bloody revenge on the Changrettas – understood it and respected it; his actions no longer seemed disproportionate.

The journey from Ada's house to St Bartholomew's hospital had been hellish. Every jolt and turn had caused Tommy excruciating pain but the knowledge that he was concussed had meant that Ada and Arabella had been forced to do what they could to keep him awake. He had talked – sort of – but the rambling had been almost more of a concern than his periodic groans of pain. His moments of lucidity had been fleeting but afterwards, whilst he was in surgery, the two women had been able to put his story in to some kind of order. Ada, with her links to the Communist Party, was able to fill in a good deal of the blanks.

It had soon become clear that Tommy, and by extension the rest of the family, had been caught up in a dangerous web of international politics. A small cabal of highly place members of the British establishment, operating through the staunchly capitalist Economic League, was hoping to force the new Labour government to break off diplomatic relations with the Communist rulers of Russia. Labour were self-declared democratic socialists and were therefore inclined to negotiate with the Bolsheviks. The men pulling the strings of the Economic League knew that would take a profound change in the British government's attitude towards the other side to derail the talks.

Tommy had been approached initially to act on behalf of the White Russian faction that comprised a loose confederation of Anti-Communist groups including a number of exiled members of the royal family. Through a mixture of bribery and threats he had been forced to set up the theft of a large amount of weapons and armoured cars which would be shipped to Georgia for use by the Whites against the Bolsheviks. This much was already known by the wider family. What was new was the other side of the plot.

Using the network of contacts developed by Section D, which had been set up by elements within the British Intelligence Service to conduct political covert actions and paramilitary operations in times of war, the perfidious Father Hugh was feeding confidential information about the White's plans to the Russian Communists. This was not a simple matter of betrayal, however. The ultimate aim was to provoke the Russian government into attacking the shipment of weapons. A violent assault by the Communists on British soil would force the British government to break off negotiations.

Unaware of this second plot, Tommy, who had a sergeant's dislike of men who put the soldiers under his command at unnecessary risk, had warned the Whites of Father Hugh's treachery. Polly was horrified to realise that it was likely her lose tongue that had warned the vicious priest of Tommy's planned assassination attempt and this had precipitated an ultra-violent response. It was not an act which would or could go unanswered.

Arabella had met Father Hugh during the preparations for the opening of the charity school. He had been perfectly pleasant to her, helpful even, but something about him had made her skin crawl; she had taken an instant dislike to the man. She did not intend for him to walk away from their next encounter.

As soon as Tommy was stabilised enough to be moved, Polly and Arabella had made arrangements for him to be discharged from St Bart's and taken under an assumed name to a private clinic in Chelsea. Armed men were a constant presence which frightened the nurses who refused point blank to enter Tommy's room. Mabel had therefore been brought down from Birmingham and she had assisted Arabella in providing Tommy's daily care. The two women had worked well together but Mabel recognised the signs of a woman at the end of her tether and had therefore had a quiet word with Polly.

'Arabella', Polly said quietly, laying a gentle hand on the exhausted woman's shoulder. 'You need to come to Ada's and rest for a bit. Let Arthur and Mabel stay with Tommy tonight. One of them can ring us if there's any change.'

Arabella turned feverish eyes on Polly and shook her head emphatically.

'No. I shouldn't have left him before and I won't leave him now.' Arabella took hold of Tommy's unresisting hand. 'Tommy's mine: mine to love; mine to protect; and mine to avenge. I'm going to get hold of the cowardly bastards who did this', she hissed, turning back to face Polly. 'I'll cut their bloody balls off and then shove them down their throats. Long before they die they'll regret the day they ever thought about messing with the Shelbys!'

Polly was hard pressed not to recoil in the face of the other woman's intensity but she schooled her features carefully.

'You'll get no argument from me, love', she responded steadily. 'But you know it isn't that simple. We need to get Tommy well so that we can plan our revenge properly. I love all my nephews equally but only Tommy has the nous to figure a way out of this. If you won't leave then at least let the doctor give you a draught so that you can get some sleep.'

Polly's calm good sense seemed to get through to Arabella and the light of righteous fury in her eyes faded a little. She nodded faintly in acquiescence exhausted now that the adrenaline had left her. Eventually she allowed herself to be led to the small cot in the corner of the room and dosed with laudanum. This set the pattern for the remainder of Tommy's recovery. Arabella stayed by her husband's side, nursing him and feeding her hatred, sleeping only when Polly could persuade her to.

As he healed, Tommy was assailed by disturbing visions. Images drawn from his own personal hell flashed through his damaged brain – a confusing mixture of events that he had experienced during the war, images of his father, the violent deaths of those he loved, even images of gods and demons. The only thing that pierced through the terror of his nightmares was the sound of Arabella's voice, soft, loving, and endlessly comforting, drawing him back from the peace of death. He couldn't leave her. He clung on to her words following the sound back to the surface, back to life.