Chapter 3

N.B. – I’ve decided that, rather than posting my chapters in their original form, (which are actually really long, I now realise) I’ll post them as I write, in smaller, bite-sized chunks, for easier reading. Enjoy!

***

7th June 1838 

Arthur Campbell House, Kensington

Miss Amalie Russell couldn’t believe that the gorgeous man standing in the doorway was the same Adrian from her childhood. The last time she had seen him, he had been a scrawny thirteen year old, with floppy hair and the tendency to break out in acne when told to speak or perform in front of large groups of people. This man gave off the impression of a well groomed lion with barely contained energy in his frame and under his obviously well-tailored tail-coat. He radiated authority. And his midnight blue eyes … no, they were exactly the same as before, holding mischief and kindness in equal parts.

At that precise moment, however, they were masked with awe and astonishment. Yet there was no recognition in his features. Didn’t he realise who she was? Had he forgotten all about her? Of course she herself had changed much over the long years, but she had not forgotten him. While most of her had embraced the adventures of India, a small part of her heart had held on tightly to England and its cool, wet weather. At the centre of that had been the memories of her mother and her blissfully-ignorant summers with Adrian and Anna-Marie.

She had known Adrian then. She knew all about that boy. But she did not know how he had changed over the years. She knew nothing about this altogether-too-handsome man. This man was Mr. Campbell and he was a stranger. So why couldn’t she take her eyes away from his? He seemed to hold her there in his long and predatory gaze.

“Ah Adrian, my boy,” Lord Newham’s rugged voice broke whatever spell that had held Amalie, for which she was incredibly grateful. “You’ve finally graced us with your presence then. Your mother was beginning to doubt whether you would turn up at all.”

“It’s always a pleasure to meet you too, father.” Mr. Campbell’s new deep voice rang through the room and his grin was sly to say the least. But first he manoeuvred his way through the furniture to greet his mother. After a kiss and much petting from Lady Charlotte he turned back to his father, with expectation ripe on his face.

“You remember my old friend Major Russell, lately returned from Hindustan,” Lord Newham stated, as Amelia’s father rose from his place to shake Mr. Campbell hand. “Though, I believe, it is Colonel Russell now, is it not?”

Her father chuckled, “yes, well, being promoted comes with its own perks,” and sent a quick glance towards her. She knew exactly what he meant but refused to acknowledge his teasing by returning his look. Instead she looked at Mr. Campbell, on whose face recognition finally broke out like a midsummer sunrise.

“Uncle William,” it was half exclamation and half question. He gulped, nervous for reasons Amalie could not fathom. “The years have been kind to you.”

Amalie thought that was a bit too much of an exaggeration. Though her father was the picture of health, his once soft face was now rugged and chiseled from the harsh weather of India, and his brown eyes heavy with all the pain they had witnessed over the years.

“Evidently much kinder to you, than to me Adrian,” replied her father, appraising Mr. Campbell just as she had. “You will, of course, remember my sons. Lucas, you childhood playmate, is now Captain Russell, of the 74th regiment. And Zachary here, is the brightest lad that I have ever come across. He has quite a head for languages.” Amelia smiled indulgently at the way her father’s voice was dripping with pride. She felt much of it herself as well and so could not fault him for showing off.

She watched as Mr. Campbell greeted her brothers affectionately. He then came to stand in front of her and before her father could say a word of introduction, Mr. Campbell voiced her nickname, “Amalie”. It was a mere whisper on a breath, and she was surprised she heard it at all. But somehow, the way he said it, seemed so intimate that she could help the colour rising to her cheeks.

“And that beautiful young lady before you, is my daughter, Amelia.”

“Miss Russell.” He gave a small gentlemanly bow. She returned it was a perfectly executed courtesy and raised her hand, just as Aunt Samantha had taught her was befitting a proper young lady in polite English society.

Mr. Campbell took her gloved hand and kissed her knuckles. The action sent her heart all aflutter though she knew he was only carrying out a courtesy. In India, men and women, whether Hindu or Muslim, did not touch hands when greeting each other, and Amelia couldn’t help but think that there was nothing polite or proper about this English custom, but that it was rather invasive of one’s privacy.

“I’m glad to have finally met you again.” Mr. Campbell’s soft words brought her out of her reverie.

“And I, you.” It was a rather short and abrupt answer but she couldn’t think of much else to say with everyone else eyes pouring over them.

But the long awkward moment of tension was broken when Colonel Russell resumed his seat by Lord Newham and took up their conversation from where it had been interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Campbell. Lucas listened in attentively as he had before, adding is own self-important opinion, in Amalie’s mind, every now and then. Mr. Campbell sat down in the empty chair beside her and Amalie turned her head in the other direction to continue talking to Lady Charlotte about her evening gown, only to find that Lady Charlotte had engaged in a discussion with Zack about all the varied languages in India. That annoyed Amelia to no end, because now it meant that she would have to speak to Mr. Campbell and there was enough awkwardness between them as it was. But she remembered the emphasis her Aunt had put on always remaining polite, so she put on her best smile and turned back towards him.

“We have a lot of catching up to do. Fourteen years is a long time, after all.”

He looked rather at a loss for words, and then quite confused as he spoke: “indeed it is.”

His vague answer annoyed Amalie further. She hadn’t said anything too complicated and he couldn’t possibly be that daft. The Adrian she had known had always been rather mischievous and clever, always able to answer all her questions with his superior and knowledge.

“And how is Anna-Marie? I was hoping to see her here today.” She tried again to engage him in conversation.

“She has been Lady Anna-Marie Ellsworthy of Caterham these past three years. She lives with her husband in Camden Town.” A brotherly smile appeared on Mr. Campbell’s lips which went a long way to soften his square features. “I expect to become an uncle in about a months time.”

“Oh, how lovely! Congratulations. I really can’t wait to see her now.”

“Thank you. I’m sure she would love to see you too.” There was a slight pause as Adrian Campbell raked his mind for something else to say. He could not allow the conversation to disintegrate into the awkwardness of a few minutes ago. “Umm, I notice your mother is not here this evening. How is she?”

Amelia’s smile became infinitely more sad and wizened, and Mr. Campbell regretted ever bringing up the topic.

“My mother, God rest her soul, died the year after we moved to India … from cholera.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I truly am. I had no idea.”

“It’s okay. Nobody over here knows and I expected to be questioned quite a lot about it.”

“As far as I can remember, she was a remarkably kind woman. And rather beautiful too. She loved to garden, right?”

Amalie just nodded, rather surprised at the change of his tone and his enthusiasm to speak.

“I remember this one time,” Mr. Campbell continued nostalgically, “we were playing cricket in your garden. I hit a sixer and it shattered one of her clay plant pots…”

“Her favourite white roses, I remember.”

“She was so upset that I actually felt truly guilty about it.”

“I remember how hard it was to make you feel guilty about anything.”

“You’re right of course. But I think what made it worse, that day, was that rather than shouting at us, she took us into the kitchen and gave us all the treacle tarts we were suppose to have for dessert that evening.”

Amalie laughed. She knew exactly how this story ended.

“After finishing your tart, you went right back outside and dug a hole in the middle of the lawn and planted the roses there.”

“Ever since that day, I’ve always wondered at the amazing power of treacle tarts.”

“Hmm, I don’t think I’ve had a treacle tart since I left England. I’ve quite forgotten what they taste like.”

“Really?! We’ll have to remedy that soon. But, excuse my curiosity, what sort of things did you eat in Hindustan?”

“Well, whatever our cook,  Nayla, had a fancy to make really. Which was mostly her native food: spicy curries, chaptis, lentils and all manner of rice dishes. Though, she always went out of her usual routine on Christmas and would make roast whole chicken. But even then, the chicken was marinated in chilli powder, turmeric and God knows what else. I remember father deplored all of it to begin with and kept trying to persuade poor Nayla in his broken Hindi to make, what the English called “civilised food”. But when he realised his children had developed a taste for it, he gave up his struggles.”

“And what do you think of our ‘civilised’ English food, now that you’re back?”

“Well … urmmm…” Amalie glanced surreptitiously at her father, whom she knew was listening to every single word she was say, with his keen miltary ears. In truth, she thought English food to be bland and tasteless, and had taken a dislike to the way the some meat-dishes sat bleeding on her plate. But she didn’t express any of this out loud as she knew it would hurt her father’s feeling, and did not want him to think, for any reason big or small, that she was not glad to be back in England.

Adrian, who had been watching Miss. Russell’s face keenly saw the glance and figured out what was going on in her mind.

“Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter.”

“Your quoting something, aren’t you?”

Adrian chuckled, realising that Miss. Russell had become rather intelligent in their time apart.

“Othello,” he conceded, but seeing her perplexed expression elaborated to: “it’s a play, by Shakespeare….”

“Oh yes, him I’m heard of. Our aunt Samantha had a small volume of his sonnets and she made us memorise many of them when we were children. I didn’t know he had written plays too.”

“Really? Well, here his plays are generally more known than his poems. They’re thought of as the literary pride of Britannia. Tell me, if not Shakespeare, what sort of … stories were you brought up with?”

“Well,”

To be continued…

 

Prologue

18th July 1817

“It’s ugly.”

At six years old, Adrian wasn’t a particularly eloquent child but definitely a curious one. He had pushed his little blonde head around his father’s long legs, just to see what all the adults were looking at.

“That is a little baby girl, not an ‘it’,” admonished his mother, Lady Charlotte “and Charles Adrian Campbell, ‘ugly’ is a very mean thing to say. Now apologise to your godfather for insulting his newborn daughter.”

“I’m sorry Uncle William. A gentleman should never insult a lady,” he repeated from routine. Though pink-cheeked, he sent a sceptical look to little bundle in Mrs. Lily Russell’s arms, doubting that ‘a lady’ could ever be that small. To his young eyes, the baby looked like nothing more than a pudgy, red-faced, sleeping thing with fuzzy black hair. The proud new father, Major William James Russell, took no offence and just patted Adrian on the head. Then he bent down and kissed his first child on the forehead.

“No matter what you might think Adrian, she will always be my little princess.” He gazed down lovingly at his small family and then gently took the baby from his wife’s arms.

“I think she’s rather cute, with such tiny hands and feet.” This came from fourteen year old Samantha Elizabeth Russell, who stood to the left of Lady Charlotte in the close circle around Mrs. Russell.

“Of course you have to think she’s cute. You’re her aunty, you don’t have a choice,”  interjected Anna-Marie. Adrian sent a scathing look to his sister who, though a full two years younger than himself, had full control of her vast verbal prowess and was well on the way to being the most annoying four-year-old in existence.

Lord Gregory Campbell, known to most of London as Viscount Newham, tried very hard not to laugh at his daughter’s remark and disguised it quite well by clearing his throat. But then, everyone turned to look at him with expectant faces.

“Have you…ummm…have you thought of a name for her?” he asked rather randomly, fishing for something that would deflect attention off himself. Major Russell looked suspiciously up at the young lord. He had first met him at Eton, when they were just eleven years old and had been best friends ever since. He knew Gregory better than anyone else, knew that his natural shyness was often mistaken for arrogance or snobbery, and also knew that he was the most loyal friend any man could ever hope for. That is why the Campbell family, though far more superior than the Russells on the social scale, were the first to visit his newborn daughter.

“I think we should call her Amalie-short-for-Amelia” suggested Samantha.

“Actually, I wanted to name her Janet, after our mother,” said Major Russell, rocking the baby in his arms as he looked down on his sister.

“Hmm…Amelia Janet Russell. It has a very nice ring to it. I like it very much,” as she said this, Mrs. Russell’s usually soft voice had a tone of finality in it, that broached no argument.

“Well, I think we should all let the new baby and her mummy rest,” said Lady Charlotte, ushering everyone out of the nursery and winking at Mrs. Russell as she left the room. Once they were all in the North Salon, which ironically faced the back of the house and opened up into the garden, Lady Charlotte turned to her two children and said “Adrian, Anna, you both look a bit peachy. It’s a nice sunny day, why don’t you go play in the garden. And play nicely!” but she was too late, the children were already half-wild before they reached the garden door. “And you two,” she said turning to Major Russell and her husband, “keep an eye on them. Make sure they don’t kill each other. In the mean time, I’m going to go and see about dinner and Samantha will accompany me.”

“Umm…maybe I should do that, seeing as it is my humble house,” said Major Russell, feeling that he should be a good host while his wife was indisposed.

“Nonsense. This is something that requires a woman’s touch. You can go play ‘man of the house’ with Gregory over there. Come along, Samantha.” With that Lady Charlotte and Samantha left the room, heading towards the kitchen.

“You have been thoroughly dismissed, my friend,” said Lord Gregory, patting Major Russell on the back.

“Has Lady Charlotte ever been in a kitchen before?” Lord Gregory just shrugged. “You know, sometimes she reminds me so much of my mother that it’s slightly frightening.”

“I remember when I first met your mother, William.” Lord Gregory shook his head in silent laughter. “She really was a remarkable and kind woman, and yes, a little frightening too.”

“I remember, once she remarked that you were more of a Russell than I was.”

“True. But in all fairness, I think of you as more of a brother than my own.”

They both sat down in the lawn chairs and watched silently for a while as Anna-Marie was chased around the garden by Adrian with a ball in his hand.

“You know, I was just thinking,” pontificated Lord Gregory as he turned back to Major Russell, “Wouldn’t it be nice if my son married your daughter? Then we really would be a family.”

“Hmm … It is a nice thought. As with any father, it would be reassuring to know that my daughter was going to a safe and loving home. But, given Adrian’s recent … elegant observation on Amalie’s appearance, well, we have no idea if the two will suit once they grow up.”

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait to find out.”

***

Twelve months later, the Russell family was blessed with another baby. They named him Lucas and Adrian was greatly pleased to learn that this time, the baby was a boy like him. As time went by, Adrian, Anna-Marie, Amelia and Lucas became childhood playmates. They spent most of their summers together, running completely wild in grounds at Newham Park. The glorious, 16th century Abbey at the centre of Newham Park was the ancestral home of Viscount Newham.

While at the Abbey, the foursome shared tutors, horse riding lessons and trips into Beckton village. However, the children’s favourite pass-time was to play two-aside cricket. But it was no ordinary cricket. They often would add their own rules just to make things interesting. It was fun and loud and they probably lost more than a hundred cricket balls over the years. Though, for obvious reasons, whoever had Adrian on their side was sure to, eventually, win the game. On rainy days, they usually spent their time playing hide-and-go-seek. They could spend hours and hours playing this because, after all, the Abbey had many places to hide. Adrian, being the oldest, knew the Abbey really well and was the best seeker around. Amalie, on the other hand, was a rather ingenuitive hider and never hid in the same place twice.

There were also times when they played apart. Anna-Marie took Amalie in as her own little protégée and taught her all there was to know about dolls and tea parties. She also had a cat named Coocky, that Amalie loved dearly and played with whenever she got the chance. In the mean time, Adrian and Lucas became well versed in the art of terrorising the Abbey staff and aggravating their respective sisters.

But unbeknownst to children, change was on the horizon.

In 1824, soon after Amelia’s seventh birthday, Major Russell received an urgent missive from General Fitzwilliam. His division and all the regiments within, were moving to Hindustan on behalf of the East India Company. Major Russell was to accompany them. Orders were orders and must be obeyed. Loathed to be separated from his family, Major Russell, Lily and Samantha decided together that they would all move to India and settle there, despite the fact that the newest member of the Russell family, Zachary, was hardly two years old.

And so, one fateful August day, the Russells and the Campbells said their final goodbyes, not knowing if they would ever see each other again.