Rebel Red Roses

Dear readers, this is my first attempt at a novel. Your encouragement and feedback would mean a lot. Critques are also most welcome.

Thank you.

Enjoy :)

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Those letters! It was those blasted letters which were responsible for her current afflictions, Rosamund Crenshaw convinced herself. Had they not whetted her tongue and provoked her spirit of adventure with tales of untold wealth and glorious riches, of Maharajas and princes or promises of a paradise of natural beauty, of a land of romance and adventure, never would she have landed herself in such a pickle.

She should listen to William and return to London but she shuddered at the thought and dismissed it as soon as it entered her pretty head. Nothing, not even a brewing uprising against her and her people in this strange foreign land of the east, could coax her to return to the stench of her London home.

Also, there was the epidemic, with everyone falling sick and dying around. These made for a very convincing argument against going back and it was this argument that she would put forward with her very persuasive womanly skills which included the look of an abandoned puppy and a few sobs and tears into a handkerchief, to which William wouldn't have the heart to refuse.

They had had this discussion before. William, apprehensive of the unrest within the Indian colonies, wanted to ensure Rosamund was safe in England in case anything should occur. But Rosamund was adamant to stay.

Even if the rumours were true and the Indians did revolt, she doubted the strength and the effectiveness of it against the mighty English. She'd more likely die in England of the spreading disease and of the unholy stink than here.

There were always a few displays of discontentment in the colonies but they were nothing that the English couldn't quell. These violent outbursts were only to be expected. The uncivilized barbaric races could hardly understand the white man's burden. Here, Englishmen like her brother, left their lands and homes to live in the scorching heat and inhuman tropical climates of the East Indies and work so hard to bring progress to these uncouth and ungrateful bigots.

She could help in that. She could teach them. She was intelligent. She would prove to Will that she was needed here and make herself indispensable. She hadn't yet thought about how she was going to accomplish that but her fertile brain would come up with something.

She replayed the last conversation they had. India is no place for a lady, he had said. Well, he had obviously not taken into consideration the women in the families of the other British officers, nor even his general's wife or daughters! Rosamund huffed at his pigheadedness and chauvinist attitude that all men around her seemed to be inflicted with.

Now, he had crossed the line. He was going to send her back despite her pleas against it. He had even asked for her things to be packed without her consent. At this discovery, Rosamund put on a brave face, squared her shoulders and stormed into his room, intending to have a talk with the stubborn man.

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"Do not fuss Rosamund. I have taken a decision and you shall abide by it. Arrangements shall be made for your departure and I do not want further ado." William Crenshaw, commanding officer, said resolutely.

Despite the firmness in his voice however, he knew he was fighting a losing battle. Women! He sighed as he felt his resolve crumble at the sight of the flurry of skirts upon the bed and the loud sobs that melted his heart.

Despite the respect, fear and authority he commanded among his men, he felt himself rather at a loss when it came to his defiant little sister who knew exactly which strings to pull in order to get what she wanted. All his authority was flouted at home and the wailing woman on her bed was a fine testimony to that fact.

He sat beside her on the king-sized bed of his elaborately furnished room and awkwardly stroked her head of blonde curls in an attempt to soothe her sobbing frame.

"Rosamund", he said gently, "I know your upset. I understand why you do not wish to live there. That city may hold bad memories for you but it is there that your future lies."

The touchy subject had never been broached between them. A silent understanding had been formed the day they lowered the coffins that William would take on the responsibilities of the house and his sister, being the first born. Rosamund was a strong girl, not one to display her true emotions and he felt somehow, she blamed herself for the incident. He never spoke of it and neither did she, each keeping the hurt bottled up inside.

This was unfamiliar ground and he wasn't sure how she'd react so he chose his words carefully.

"Mother and Father would not want you to throw away your chances at a well settled life because their death haunts you. You know they are looking after you wherever they are." William said. He really wasn't good at such things, least of all having such an emotional talk with a girl. His discomfort was evident in the way he shuffled about on the bed and the faint blush on his clean-shaven cheeks.

Rosamund stiffened. This was not what she had been expecting. His words hurt. Not because of what he said or the manner in which he said it but because of their closeness to the truth. She had always prided herself in hiding her true emotions but Will had peeked into her very soul.

She was still in a state of denial and felt embarrassed at the fact that he could read her so easily. Her embarrassment turned to fury and was about to lash out when he spoke.

"You must move on." Will said softly before getting up and leaving the room.