The Brigadier's Daughter

Victoria blushed, leaning closer as she whispered in confidence, ‘What do you think it will be like?’

Georgia frowned as she licked chocolate from her fingertips. ‘What?’

‘You know.’ Victoria giggled. ‘It!’

Philippa snorted and buried her face in the bedcovers as she stifled her laughter, and then she lifted her head and asked, ‘Has Mama said anything?’

Seeing the look of puzzlement on Georgia’s face, Sasha admonished the two younger girls. ‘Leave her be.’

‘Oh, Georgia, you are so lucky!’ sighed Victoria, rolling onto her back and gazing up at the canopy of the bed. ‘I couldn’t imagine anyone nicer than Captain Bowen to be surrendering my bloomers too!’

‘I don’t think it’s just her bloomers he’s interested in.’ The earthy Philippa grinned.

The two girls shrieked, drumming their heels as they laughed in a most unladylike way, and Sasha gave them each a playful slap as Georgia suddenly went scarlet, the full understanding of what it meant to be married dawning on her. A most peculiar noise erupted from her throat, and Georgia burst into tears, flounced from the bed and ran to her room, slamming the door shut behind her. Her sisters exclaimed, mortified at what they had done and making to rush after her, but Sasha firmly stopped them, pulling them both back.

‘Let her alone,’ she insisted, picking up the empty dish and placing it on a table. ‘Now, you two, off to bed. The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner the day will be here.’

With little squeals of excitement Victoria and Philippa hurried away to their room, and with a sigh of relief Sasha closed her door. Then she tip-toed to Georgia’s door and knocked gently on it.

‘Georgie, are you all right?’

‘Go away!’

‘Shall I come in?’

‘No, just go away and leave me alone.’

Sasha stood and listened for a few moments to the sounds of muffled weeping, then with a regretful little grimace she went to her own bed and climbed beneath the covers. She lay awake for a while, anxiously wondering if she should try again to go in to Georgia, or maybe it was best to leave her to some peace and privacy…

When Sasha awoke next it was still dark, but a sound had disturbed her from the depths of her dreams. She opened her eyes and gazed about, her glance straying to the curtained window. There was no glimmer of daylight and there was still the heavy hush of night about the house. Yet her ears had been alerted to strange noises, and she listened, her breath tensely held—a bump, and a thump, and the low murmur of voices.

Sasha sat up, swinging her bare feet out of bed, pausing, listening keenly. With a small intake of breath, as alarm bells rang, she jumped out of bed and ran to Georgia’s bedroom door, along the way seizing her heavy silver-backed hairbrush as a weapon. She flung the door open and was ready to strike the unknown assailant, her arm upraised, when a startled Georgia and Felix Westfaling turned to stare at her.

‘Oh, damn!’ exclaimed Felix, setting down two Moroccan leather portmanteaus on the floor and raising placating hands towards Sasha. ‘Now listen here, old girl…’

Sasha noticed at once that Georgia was fully dressed; indeed, she was shrugging on her dark wool coat with the foxfur trim over her going-away outfit of sapphire silk.

‘What on earth!’ Sasha exclaimed, her eyes flitting between the frozen couple, who stared back at her with guilty, nervous eyes.

Then Georgia came rushing towards her. ‘Oh, Sash, please, do be quiet! I beg you, do not give us away.’

Sasha lowered her arm and stared at them. ‘What’s going on? Felix, how did you get in here? We thought you were in Scotland.’

Felix shrugged, with a defensive frown. ‘I’ve been lurking in the back alley all day and bribed Farrell to let me in through the servants’ door in the mews. He took pity on us—the servants don’t miss a thing, believe you me. I came back when my mama wrote to tell me about Georgia getting married to that Bowen chap.’ He glanced at his beloved with a sheepish smile. ‘Only wish I’d come to my senses and got back sooner.’

Her sister grasped both of her hands and gushed an explanation. ‘Felix and I are running away. We are going to Gretna Green to be married and then to Paris for a wonderful honeymoon! Papa gave me all my travelling papers last night, so I can go anywhere in the world that I want to!’

‘Oh, no, you’re not!’ exclaimed Sasha. ‘Have you gone completely mad, Georgia? You are getting married in the morning to Captain Bowen, it’s all arranged, everyone will be there, everyone expects—’

‘No!’ said Georgia vehemently, almost stamping her foot, her mouth set in a mulish line. ‘I don’t love Captain Bowen and I don’t want to marry him! I won’t! In a few days’ time I will be twenty-one and can do as I please.’

‘But—’

Felix came towards them, his arm curling around Georgia’s waist. ‘Now listen here, Sash, old girl, you know I’m besotted with Georgia. Can’t bear to see her getting hitched to another chap, just not the right thing, not the right thing at all.’

‘But—’

‘Oh, Sasha, darling, please, please, I beg you, don’t say anything, just let us get away.’

‘But—’

‘Better get a move on, Georgie, before someone notices the hansom cab lurking in the mews and starts getting nosy,’ Felix urged.

As the couple hastened to pick up their bags, Sasha suddenly ran to the door and blocked their path. ‘Georgia, no, I can’t let you do this! Have you thought this through? You know how impulsive you can be! Why, tomorrow the church will be full of people and Captain Bowen will be left standing there like a complete fool!’

Georgia sighed, and then tugged the diamond engagement ring off her finger and pressed it into Sasha’s palm, firmly closing her fingers over it. ‘Tell him I’m sorry, but—but, well, just say I’m sorry.’

‘I’ll do no such thing! Tell him yourself!’

‘Come now, Sash, old girl, out of the way, we really must get going,’ Felix said, in a soft voice that held a thread of steel in its depths.

Sasha looked at him in surprise, hardly believing that funloving Felix was capable of a serious thought for more than a blink of an eye. The cold hard contours of gold and diamond seemed to burn into her hand, and she asked, looking him directly in the eye, ‘Tell me, Felix, do you love Georgia?’

‘Yes,’ he answered, quietly, returning her gaze unwaveringly. ‘I do, very much, and I promise that I will look after her.’

Sasha wavered then, as he turned to smile at Georgia, and she saw in that one glance how much they adored each other. How could she stand in the way of her sister’s happiness, when it was so obvious that this was what she truly wanted?

‘Are you sure, Georgia?’ she asked again, desperate to ascertain that this was no mere whim on her sister’s part and that she understood all the consequences, ‘Captain Bowen will be so hurt; he’s such a lovely man, so strong and kind and handsome.’

‘Oh?’ Felix bristled, with a disgruntled thrust of his lower lip.

Georgia clicked her tongue in annoyance. ‘Oh, please do stop, Sash, it will do no good, I’ve made up my mind. Goodness, if you feel that way, why don’t you marry him?’

With a sharp intake of breath, Georgia and Felix looked at each other, suddenly taken by the merits of an excellent plan.

‘Splendid idea!’ exclaimed Felix, dropping his voice as Georgia quickly hushed him, glancing nervously about. ‘Always thought the two of you made a fine-looking pair.’

‘Oh, do,’ Georgia gasped. ‘What a perfectly perfect solution. No one would be any wiser and once you are safely on board ship to Russia it will be far too late to do anything about it. And no one would think to be looking for us—’ Georgia glanced slyly at her sister ‘—and you have to admit, Sash, you are smitten with the man. And he’s probably smitten with you, but just doesn’t know it yet.’

Sasha shook her head, wondering if she should laugh or cry, and quite speechless for words. Then, as her senses returned, she glared at Georgia and retorted, ‘Why, you really are the most selfish, conniving, manipulative little minx—’

‘Steady on, Sash!’ Felix objected, a frown marring his brow at this maligning of his much beloved.

With her own brows sceptically arched, Sasha asked, ‘And how exactly am I to accomplish this feat? Marrying my sister’s bridegroom, that is? Do you think that Captain Bowen will be so overcome by the joys of his wedding day that he will not notice that his bride is slightly shorter than he remembered? And has dark hair instead of blonde? Brown eyes instead of blue?’

‘Oh, with that ridiculous Spanish lace veil he won’t be able to see a thing,’ scoffed Georgia. ‘And our feet are the same size, so you can borrow my shoes with the two-inch heels. I am sure he won’t notice.’

‘Until it’s too late,’ interjected Felix.

‘Far too late,’ Georgia agreed.

‘And what about at the end of the marriage ceremony, when the vicar says you may kiss the bride?’ There was now a heavy note of sarcasm in Sasha’s voice, and she felt as though she had stumbled into one of her own dreams, for surely none of this could be real? ‘What do I do then?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, pretend you have a cold or something!’

‘And at the reception?’

‘Overcome by nerves,’ suggested Felix. ‘Come along, Georgie, the train for Edinburgh leaves in an hour. We really must go.’

Georgia suddenly embraced her sister, and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Goodbye, darling, and thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘For helping us.’

‘I didn’t say that I would.’

Georgia smiled, hugging Sasha one last time and smugly replied, ‘Oh, but you will, darling Sasha, I know you will.’

And with that, Felix and Georgia departed. The door closed. She listened pensively to their muffled footfalls, until there was only silence, followed by the sudden clip-clop of a carriage passing in the street. Sasha ran lightfooted to the window, thrust back the heavy brocade curtain and peered out, catching a mere glimpse of the hackney carriage bearing Felix and Georgia. It was cold by the window, and she drew back, pulling the curtain into place. With a shiver she hurried to her own room and climbed back into bed, pulling the covers high up around her ears and curling into a ball, her knees drawn up to her waist.

For a while she could not think of anything at all, and stared blankly into the dark, the first glimmer of dawn just beginning to touch the window. Then she felt the small round object in the palm of her hand and opened it, staring at the diamond engagement ring Georgia had relinquished.

A sudden stab of panic and alarm sent goosebumps rippling over her skin, as Sasha contemplated the débâcle that would be tomorrow—no, this morning, the great day, The Wedding Day. Damn Georgia! How could she? How could she do this to them? To Captain Bowen? She drew in a painful breath as she wondered just how to tell him. Or should she go to her father and let him do the nasty deed? Yes, yes, she decided with a sigh of relief, Papa would handle it all quite admirably. With the matter settled, Sasha wriggled and snuggled down to sleep, but it was not long before her lashes flew open and she was again brooding on the impending doom about to fall upon her family.

It was no use, she couldn’t possibly go back to sleep with all these thoughts raging inside her mind. With a sigh Sasha sat up, holding her head in her hands as she sat cross-legged in the bed, her thoughts roaming this way and that. She imagined that Georgia was most probably boarding her train for Scotland now, totally oblivious to anything except her own happiness.

Poor Captain Bowen. Would he be very heartbroken?

Would Mama have a fit of the vapours in church, as they stood waiting expectantly for the bride to appear and walk up the aisle?

Would Papa have a stroke at the shame of it all? With a gasp she wondered if he would go charging after Felix, no doubt armed with his pair of revolvers. Good God, Papa might even shoot him! Captain Bowen was a soldier, too—why, he might even join Papa and shoot Felix, too! Sasha pressed a hand to her mouth as she envisaged murder and mayhem in the days to follow.

Unless…she did as Georgia had suggested. She could quite literally step into Georgia’s shoes, and the wedding would go ahead, no one any the wiser. All would be as it should be, the bride would arrive on her father’s arm, and she would marry the groom. There would be peace and happiness. What had Georgia said? ‘…a perfectly perfect solution.’ Sasha’s lip trembled as she contemplated such an audacious plan. Could it be done? Would she, could she, possibly have the nerve to carry it off? Sasha chewed her lip, and surmised that it would only be for a day or two, until Georgia and Felix were married, just to keep the peace and avoid a tragic family scandal. For a moment or two she wondered how Reid would react and how it would affect his posting to St Petersburg. Did he desperately need to have a wife at his side? Surely it would not matter one way or another; besides, once he got to the Embassy and the Russian court there were bound to be plenty of beautiful young ladies only too willing to become his bride.

Certainly Georgia’s madcap suggestion that she marry Reid in her place was going to be difficult to achieve, but in the circumstances she could see no other solution, none that would not bring dishonour and disgrace on both Reid, Georgia and the Packard family.

Climbing out of bed again, Sasha tip-toed into Georgia’s bedroom. She lit a candle and then opened the door of the dressing room to stand and gaze at the spectacular frothy white creation of Georgia’s wedding gown. She felt the blood drain from her face as she wondered if she would indeed be able to fit into it. Georgia most definitely had a bigger bosom, but no doubt she could pad the bodice out with a few stockings if it gaped. And the hem would be too long, yet there was no time to alter it. But she could wear the shoes with the twoinch heels; with that in mind, she searched through the shoe rack until she found them. They were beige silk and did not exactly go with the dress, but with the length of it she hoped that no one would notice anyway.

The plan began to form, and one link led to another as she hurried about in an attempt to cover every possibility. She made sure Georgia’s door was locked, as well as her own, and when Polly came knocking she would pretend that Georgia had had an attack of the nerves and would see no one except her own sister, Sasha. And then she would have to dash out and convince Mama that she would not be able to attend the wedding; after all, it would be impossible to play both bride and bridesmaid at the same time. But what possible excuse would Mama tolerate on this, the grandest day of her year, her life even? A cold or headache would not be enough, she was sure; it would have to be something nasty, something contagious.

She had an idea and hurried to Georgia’s dressing table, reaching for a small bottle of lavender oil that had long been abandoned, as neither of them cared much for the scent and it had given Sasha a most unpleasant rash. Biting her lips, Sasha opened the vial and sprinkled a few drops on her forearms, rubbed it into her skin, and then her neck. Sure enough, within a few moments it began to burn and itch. Her nose tingled and she sneezed, and in a panic she rushed to the washstand, scrubbing with soap and water at her arms and neck. Not even for Georgia could she put herself through this! But it was too late; even though she had removed all traces of the lavender oil, her skin was indeed irritated and would take a few days to recover.

The household was beginning to stir, the maids knocking on doors and delivering trays of tea, drawing back the curtains, the footmen bringing up shoes that had been polished the night before, and jugs of hot water for the guests’ morning ablutions.

Sasha realised that she would not be able to dress herself unaided, there were far too many tiny hooks and eyes on the back of the wedding gown, and she would need Polly to help her put the veil on. She decided to take Polly into her confidence, and when the little maid arrived, she let her into Georgia’s room, locked the door behind her, and gave her a very brief summary of the night’s events, swearing a shocked, yet loyal, Polly to absolute secrecy.

‘Will I be in trouble, miss?’ asked a nervous Polly. ‘Jobs is hard to come by nowdays.’

‘Oh, no, Polly, don’t worry.’ Sasha hugged the young maid. ‘I will leave a note explaining everything, and that you had no idea whatsoever what was going on. Besides, you know the Brigadier and her ladyship well enough, they would never vent their wrath upon you.’

The hardest part was to convince Victoria and Philippa that they could not come in. They wailed, and moaned, and made threats and promises in equal quantities if only they could please, please come in, just for a moment. Sasha was reduced to lying, making false promises that as soon as Georgia was ready they could come in to see her, but first they must go and enjoy a hearty breakfast to keep them going through the long day, and then get ready themselves.

Her mother proved to be an easier case, as she did not appear at all, having herself succumbed to a fit of nerves and was resting in her room at her father’s insistence, Polly reported. Her father knocked once upon Georgia’s door, and Polly called out in reassuring tones that ‘they’ were busy bathing and getting dressed.

‘Very well,’ replied the Brigadier through the door panel, in relieved tones. ‘But, Georgia, make sure you are downstairs in the hall at ten forty-five sharp, the carriage will be here then to take us to the church.’

He moved on down the corridor to check on his other daughter, and when Sasha called out in a feeble whimper for him to enter, the Brigadier poked his head around the door with an alarmed exclamation.

‘Come along, Sasha, what on earth are you doing still in bed?’

‘Papa, I feel very unwell. I think I may have a fever, and look, a horrible rash.’ She pushed back the long sleeves of her nightgown and showed him her arms and neck.

‘Good Lord!’ He edged nervously away, half-closing the door. ‘Really, Sasha, how very inconvenient! As if we don’t have enough to worry about today, of all days.’ He sighed heavily, preoccupied with his father-of-the-bride duties. ‘We will send for Dr Symons later, but there’s just no time now. Stay in bed, and for goodness’ sake do stay away from your mother, you know how delicate she is.’

‘Yes, Papa,’ Sasha replied in a meek voice, as he began to close the door. ‘I’m so sorry, Papa.’

The Brigadier grunted and went off, deciding to keep to himself Sasha’s condition, a frown creasing his brow as he went to his dressing room to sit with a brandy and the newspaper before his valet helped him don his best dress military jacket, striped breeches, leather belt and sword, and attached his medals. All he was most concerned with was getting Georgia to the church and married to that Bowen fellow—why did he have this nagging feeling that the girl was going to be contrary?

As soon as the door had closed, Sasha threw back the bed covers and Polly came hurrying in from Georgia’s bedchamber. The maid began to help her into the bridal gown and when she was fully dressed, the veil secure, Sasha paused and looked at herself in the mirror. But she cringed, horrified at what she was about to do. She thanked the maid and then sent her to check the luggage was ready for removal to the ship, seeking a quiet moment in which to gather her thoughts, and to sit down at her writing desk and pen a note. For long moments, anxiously aware of the ticking clock, she stared at the blank sheet of cream paper, and then with a tremulous sigh set the pen’s nib to write, ‘Dearest Mama and Papa, please do not worry or be too angry, but…’ When she had finished, she folded the page and slipped it into an envelope, rising from the desk and looking about the room for a place to leave the note, where it would be found, but not too soon. Eventually she propped it on the mantelpiece, behind the gently ticking ornate gilt clock. It was twenty minutes before eleven o’clock and with a last glance about her bedroom she settled the veil over her face, leaving the room quickly before she changed her mind.

The carriage conveyed them to the Church of St Ann at precisely five minutes before the bells of eleven o’clock began to peal. When they rumbled to a halt, Sasha stepped down from the carriage, assisted by her father and her two young sisters acting as bridesmaids. The heavy Spanish lace veil was indeed so thick that no one could see her face, but she could hardly see anything either. Her father was extremely smart in his dark green-and-gold Light Dragoons uniform, yet he was indistinct. She could not see more than a green shadow and she reached out blindly to take his arm as they mounted the steps of the church. She could hear the genteel tones of the organ music; when they came to a halt in the vast arched door way, her heart suddenly lurched and pounded very hard in rapid beats.

This was it. She stood on the threshold of a moment—her life, and the life of everyone else involved in this marriage, was about to change in ways unimaginable.

The organ paused for a moment, and then launched into Handel’s ‘Hornpipe in D Water Music’. Her father took a step forwards, and she followed, placing her feet slowly and carefully on the dark blue carpet, the congregation on either side a mere blur. That walk seemed the longest of her life and she wondered if it would ever end, but then at last her father halted, and she became aware of another taller, broader shape in a scarlet jacket, moving to stand at her side.

Remembering the rehearsal a few days ago, Sasha turned to Philippa and handed her the bridal bouquet, a heavy and ornate arrangement of lilies, roses, ivy and forget-me-nots that made her arms ache and her nose tingle. She could feel a sneeze tickling in her nose and throat, the scent of all the flowers arranged in the church upsetting her already lavenderannoyed senses. As Captain Bowen reached out to take her left hand in his, she could not stem the succession of sneezes that erupted from her.

The congregation were amused and sympathetic, murmuring gently with soft chuckles, yet Sasha was mortified. She felt the prickling heat of a red-hot blush sear her cheeks and she glanced up nervously to Captain Bowen. But she could not see his face, whether he was amused or annoyed at this lack of decorum, but fortunately the vicar had a pressing timetable and he launched at once into the ceremony.

Sasha whispered the vows, flinching inwardly and praying that she would not be struck down by lightning as she professed to be Georgia Louisa Roberta, who promised that she would love, cherish, honour and obey Reid Peter Michael for all the days of her life until death parted them. At one point, as she sniffed and was tempted to wipe her nose with the back of her sleeve, her mama leaned forwards and pressed a lawn handkerchief into her hand. The vicar had to pause for a moment as the bride blew her nose, but then at last, to his relief and the Brigadier’s, he pronounced them man and wife. The final hymn was sung, the bride avoided being kissed by blowing her nose and reaching for her bouquet, and then they departed to the registry to sign the marriage document. Sasha scrawled Georgia’s name, albeit illegibly, and now considered it the right moment to swoon and make her escape.

The Brigadier muttered darkly that his eldest girl was at home unwell and feared that it might be catching. Captain Bowen lifted his bride up from where she had collapsed on the stone floor, in a froth of shimmering white organza, silk and tulle, holding her in his arms and somewhat surprised at how small and light she felt as he carried her prostrate form from a side door of the church and out to a waiting carriage. He climbed in beside her and ordered the driver to take them at once to the docks at Tilbury. He feared that his wife’s family would insist that she was not well enough to travel, and he could not possibly afford to miss the sailing of the naval warship HMS Dorset