I did not believe my countrymen would allow themselves to be so easily dismissed and it seemed that I might be right in this, for soon after we heard that Sir John Lawrence had armed the Sikhs and with their help had curbed the power of the sepoys. The Punjab remained faithful to the British and rumour had it that Sir John Lawrence was sending an army to the relief of Delhi.

I knew that we were in acute danger and that if any man, woman or child of European origin were found in the streets they would be instantly killed.

I gave myself entirely up to the care of the children. I had to keep them happy and myself occupied. I gave my entire attention to them; it was one way of shutting out that fearful memory.

I wished that I had never seen it. To have heard vaguely that Lavinia had been killed, as had thousands of others, would have shocked me deeply, but that I should have seen the manner in which she died, seemed more than I could bear to think of.

The children were a blessing. They were very good in the circumstances. At least we were not so much in the dark as we had been. Louise had a strong sense of danger. Sometimes she would come and stand beside me for no apparent reason. I understood. She was old enough to realize that we were living through dangerous times. She clung to both me and the ayah. I knew she was very disturbed when the ayah was not with us.

They were wonderful, those two ... the ayah and her brother. I had complete trust in them; the fidelity of Ayah and the integrity of Salar were an example to us all.

All the time I was wondering about Fabian and Dougal. Where were they? How had they fared in this holocaust? I guessed that Fabian, at least, would be somewhere in the heart of the trouble. I longed for news of him. Lying on my pallet at night I would think of him, and because I felt life was so uncertain and death was hovering all the time behind any door, I faced my true feelings for him.

I longed to be with him. The times I had spent with him had been the highlights of my life. I liked to brood on the childish episode when he had seen me as a baby and taken me for his own. He might have kept me there always. What a difference that would have made to my life! I thought of him as he had been, stretched out on the settee ... with Lavinia kneeling before him with a chalice of wine while I fanned him with Miss Lucille's peacock-feather fan.

Then my mind switched to that terrible scene ... the sight of the bloodstained feathers of the fan that the Khansamah had given to Lavinia. How strange that there should be yet another feather fan to haunt me. When he had given that fan to Lavinia she had believed it meant contrition on his part. How little she understood. It meant disaster was coming to her ... revenge because she had slighted him.

I must cling to something to blot out the memory. Fabian would save us, I told myself. I prayed that he might still be alive and that I should soon see him again.

I must face the truth. He was more important to me than I dared admit; but what was the point of deceiving myself now? Why did I not admit to my obsession with him? It had been there ever since we had been children. I supposed I was in love with him. I had always been what was called a sensible girl. Even Lady Harriet had admitted to that. Had she not sent me to the finishing school in France—which my father could never have afforded—for the purpose of looking after Lavinia?

And I had looked after her. I had brought her through a difficult situation which, had we not been successful, would have ruined her prospects for a grand marriage. That was something of which Lady Harriet was ignorant, but I was sure she would have approved of my action had she known.

I was a sensible girl. I must go on being sensible. Just because I was overwrought ... just because I had witnessed something more terrible than I could ever have imagined, I must not allow it to unnerve me.

The ayah came in to tell me the news. Something was happening. The British were advancing on Delhi and there was great consternation throughout the city.

"Take great care," said Salar. "They must not find you."

We waited. Could this life be going to change? The weeks were passing. Surely something must happen soon?

It was a hot June day when an attempt was made to blow open the gates of the city. Perhaps Delhi would be taken. Then perhaps I might see Fabian.

However, this was not to be. The people rose in their determination to hold the city. The sepoys were well trained and they were brave soldiers; and they did not fight the less boldly and skilfully because they were fighting for India.

It was a bitter disappointment when the attempt failed, but of course that was not the end. There followed more long weeks of waiting and speculation, wondering if each day would be our last. We had come to Salar's house in May, and it was not until September that the city of Delhi was taken by the Sikhs and the British.

It was still unsafe to venture out. Fighting was going on in the streets and anyone not of the Indian race would be shot on sight.

But hope had returned. Something must happen soon. Louise was aware of this.

"Will my mother come back now?" she asked.

"No, Louise. She can't come back."

"Will my father?"

"Perhaps."

"And my uncle?"

"I don't know. They will come if they can. They will want to make sure that we are all safe."

"Shall we go away from here then?"

"Yes, we shall go away."

"On a big ship? Home?"

It was pleasant to hear her speak of England as home, for she had never seen it, yet it meant home to her.

"Yes," I told her. "One day ..."

"Soon?"

"Perhaps that may well be."

She nodded, smiling. She knew that if she asked some questions she would get evasive answers and her instinct told her that they might not be true.

And so we waited.

One day the ayah came to me. It was in the late afternoon. I thought this was simply one of her periodic visits, but it was quite different.

She said, "We all leave house. Khansamah say it is not safe. He says enemy come. Soldiers in all houses, British soldiers now. He say they blame us ... kill us."

"They wouldn't kill you."

"Khansamah, he say ..."

"Where is the Khansamah?"

"I do not know. He say all go. They all go different places."

She stayed in her brother's house all that day and the next night. We waited eagerly for news.

The following day she went out. She still thought it might be unsafe for me to venture into the streets with the children. People were still being killed, and even though the British Army had taken over the town there were still pockets of resistance.

When she came back she said, "I see Fabian Sahib. He is at house."

I was speechless, but I think she must have been aware of the joy that was surging through me.

"Did you see him? Did you speak to him?"

She nodded. "I go to him. He say, 'Where Missie Drusilla and children? Where Memsahib Countess?' "

"You ... you told him?"

She shook her head. "I fear Khansamah. He watch me. I think he know." She began to tremble. "I think he watch me."

"But where is he?"

She hesitated. "I didn't see ... but I think he watch. I think he follow me. I did not see, but I know."

"Well," I said. "He won't be able to do any harm now. He is no longer at the house. What did you tell Sir Fabian?"

"I tell him Countess dead, children safe with you."

"So you did tell him that?"

She nodded. "He say, 'Where? Where?' But I did not tell. I fear Khansamah come here. I fear he watch. I say, 'I bring Missie Drusilla to you.' He say, 'Yes, yes.' And then I run away."

"I must go to him," I said.

"Not in day. Wait for night."

How did I live through that day? I felt lightheaded. An exultation had taken hold of me. Then I experienced guilty feelings. There was death and destruction all around me. How could I feel this joy when I was still mourning Lavinia's death and that of all the others who had died with her?

At last it was evening.

"Wear sari," said Ayah. "Cover up head best. Then come."

I went through the streets with Ayah, hurrying along, being able to think of nothing but the possibility of seeing him, yet fearing that I never should. I imagined an assassin at every turn.

I had an uneasy feeling that we were being followed. A light footfall ... a hasty glance over my shoulder. Nothing. Only imagination stretched beyond belief because of all the terrible things that had happened in the last months of my life.

I must live through the next moments. I must see Fabian again.

And there was the house.

"I wait for you in the gazebo," said Ayah.

I went swiftly across the grass. There were lights in several of the windows. I wanted to call out: Fabian. I'm here, Fabian.

There was a clump of flowering shrubs near the house. As I passed this I heard a movement behind me. I turned sharply and as I did so, terror swept over me. I was looking into the murderous eyes of the Khansamah.

"Missie Drusilla," he said softly.

"What ... what are you doing here?"

"My home," he said.

"No more. You have betrayed those who trusted you."

"You very bold, Missie Drusilla," he said. "You go ... you take children ... you hide. I know now where. I kill Ayah ... but you first."

I screamed for help as he sprang towards me. I saw the knife in his upraised hand. I called out again and with all my strength pushed him from me.