Fortune's Soldier by Alex Rutherford

Author:Alex Rutherford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Canelo
Published: 2021-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

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The tonga halted by the gates of the President’s residence. As Nicholas stepped down, a voice shouted, ‘Sahib, look out!’ He stepped hastily back as a carriage rolled past, the plumed headdresses of the female occupants swaying like the crests of sarus cranes. Then he set off up the sweeping drive. He hadn’t got more than a few paces before a boy in Company livery holding a flaming torch darted forward to light his way as if he could have missed the mansion illuminated for one of the grandest balls of the season. Through the deep-sashed windows he could see guests milling in the golden glow of giant candelabras.

In general he avoided the ostentatious parties that were a part of Madras life and which – when he did feel obliged to attend – usually involved him in deflecting proposals to join one Company faction or another or to participate in private trading ventures. All such proposals came with entangling ties and obligations – and these, above all, he wished to avoid. But tonight’s ball was one he could not escape… Martingdale had made clear he expected all the senior officers of the Political Department to be there.

His mind went back to something Martingdale had said to him in private only that morning, a smirk rounding the corners of his lips. ‘I hear you’re to be congratulated, Ballantyne. She’s quite a catch – brains, beauty and £500 a year. The Astronomer Royal for a brother-in-law! You’re a sly dog. I’d never have guessed, but my wife suspected and had it from Anna Mulgrave that it’s as good as settled! I wish you both every happiness.’ He’d vigorously shaken Nicholas’s hand and before Nicholas could say anything had hurried away, leaving him nonplussed.

The idea of marrying Margaret Maskelyne had never entered his head. These past weeks while he’d been waiting impatiently for his first mission, they’d quite often been in each other’s company but not through any contriving of his. He had enjoyed talking to her, liked her independent spirit, her wry amusement at Madras and its ways, her gift for the piano. He liked and admired her but never once had he felt the stirrings of anything deeper.

But what about her? The shock of Martingdale’s words had made him reflect on how many times she’d invited him to sit by her, turn her music for her, ride by her side on expeditions into the country. And how she’d asked again to meet his son, which he’d arranged by bringing James and Sohini to the maidan at the time she took her evening carriage ride. As for tonight, only the evening before at the Martingdales she’d laughingly flourished her dance card at him and told him she’d pencilled him in for the first dance. ‘You’re a musician like me. I know you’ll not trample my feet like some of the great clodhoppers I’ve come across here. And you must take me into supper, I’m as much at risk from being

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