Pressure of work, wrote Conway, had made it impossible after all for him to meet her in Calcutta. She must know how great a disappointment this was to him. As great, he knew, as it would be to her. But duty must come first and he was persuaded that she would not have him neglect his duty even for her. He had written to Randall asking him to make all arrangements for her journey north, and as he had heard that the Abuthnots, who had so kindly escorted her out, were proceeding to Delhi, she had better remain under their protection and travel as far as Delhi with them. It was a little out of the way, but since he himself would have occasion to go there in the near future and would be staying with the Commissioner, Mr Simon Fraser, it would suit very well. They could be married in Delhi and spend their honeymoon in that historic city, visiting the various places of interest with which the ancient Mogul capital abounded. It would mean a delay of a few more weeks, but what were a few more weeks when they had the rest of their lives before them? He hoped that she had had a pleasant voyage and remained, as ever, her affectionate, devoted husband-to-be …
The writing was straggling and uneven and the lines ran crookedly across the page. He must have been very tired when he wrote it, thought Winter with loving compassion. Tired and disappointed. It made her own disappointment seem a selfish emotion. It was noble of Conway - and so like him! - to put duty before personal happiness. Dear, dear Conway!
She crushed his letter between her hands, pressing it to her breast and fighting a desire to put her head down on the top bar of the deck-rail and cry. But she must not cry here on the open deck, and there was no privacy anywhere on the ship that day. To let her bitter disappointment be seen might be taken by others to imply a criticism of Conway, and that would be unforgivable in her. She turned away from the rail and walked steadily down to her cabin with her head high, her face calm and composed and her eyes very dry and bright.
Mrs Abuthnot was motherly and sympathetic. Dear Alex had already informed her of the state of affairs and had handed her a most charming letter from Mr Barton. So disappointing! But then life in India was sadly full of such disappointments. One had to learn to bear them. Officers in the service of the Company were not their own masters, and India, said Mrs Abuthnot profoundly, was not England. Naturally, dear Winter would remain in her care; it would be delightful to have her! - although she feared that it would mean some delay, as Colonel Abuthnot had official business to transact in Calcutta and Barrackpore which might keep them here for a little time. He had arranged for them to stay with a friend - Mr Shadwell, a Calcutta merchant. The Shadwells, she knew, would be only too pleased to welcome Winter as an additional guest, for Horace Shadwell had known her Uncle Ebenezer well. And what could be more delightful than to travel to Delhi in company? Dear Lottie was overjoyed at the prospect!
The Shadwells’ house proved to be a palatial two-storeyed mansion on Garden Reach surrounded by lawns and gardens that fronted the river, and to Winter’s relief she was given a room to herself.
She shut the door behind her and leant tiredly against it, released at last from the necessity of keeping her features composed and her lips smiling. She could cry now that there was no one to see, and let tears relieve some of the strain and the pain of disappointment that the day had brought her.
But she did not cry. She looked about the huge, high-ceilinged room with its whitewashed walls and long french windows opening onto a deep verandah. A room that was as utterly unlike an English bedroom as the vast, slow-moving Hooghly was unlike an English stream. And as she looked, the tight band that had seemed to be tied about her heart relaxed, and the fever of excitement and the leaden weight of disappointed hope both faded.
She walked slowly across the room and out onto the verandah, her wide skirts rustling softly on the matting. Below her a long lawn sloped down between thick groves of trees to where the river ran gold in the brief twilight. The sky was a wash of clear pale green in which the first stars were already ghostly points of light, and the evening air was full of sounds: half-forgotten yet wholly familiar sounds. Conches blaring in a temple; a distant throb of tom-toms; peacocks calling and a jackal-pack wailing; the barking of pariah dogs, and all the many noises of an Indian city. The air smelt of sun-baked dust and cow-dung fires, of wood-smoke, marigolds and jasmine and the rank scent of the river, while in the gathering dusk a myriad faintly glinting pin-points of light spangled the bamboo-brakes, and overhead a line of dark shapes winged their way across the garden - the fireflies and the fruit bats that old Sir Ebenezer had wished that he might see once more …
Winter leaned on the broad verandah rail and drew a long, long breath of happiness. It did not matter any longer that Conway had been unable to come to Calcutta to meet her, or that tomorrow would not, after all, be her wedding-day. She could wait. She had come home.
The travellers awoke next morning to a babble of birdsong: crows, minas, jays, parrots, ‘saht-bai’ and doves, whistling, screeching and cooing.
The sky was yellow with dawn and air still cool, and the fruit bats were coming home to roost as the birds awoke; hanging themselves up in the deepest shadows of the mango trees and quarrelling and flapping as they jostled for sleeping-space. The river too was already awake and noisy. A paddle-steamer churned past on its way to Allahabad, and skiffs, country boats and slender dinghies punted by boatmen wielding long bamboo poles drifted by. A small striped squirrel chattered indignantly from the scented masses of flowering creeper that clothed one of the verandah pillars, doves cooed upon the cornices and a flight of parrots flew screaming overhead.
Their scream was echoed by Lottie, whose room gave onto the same verandah, and a moment later Lottie herself, clad in a pink cotton peignoir over a cambric nightgown and with her soft fair curls in tangled disarray, appeared in Winter’s bedroom. An Indian had walked into her room, she announced in trembling tones. ‘A man, Winter! He did not even knock … he just walked in. I thought I should have swooned with fright.’
‘What did he want?’ inquired Winter.
‘Oh, he did not want anything. He brought me tea and fruit. He just put them on a table beside my bed and went out again. Don’t laugh, Winter! It is most unkind in you. I was never so frightened in my life.’
‘That was only the bearer,’ said Winter, continuing to laugh. ‘He brought me some too. You will have to get used to it, Lottie darling. I do not think servants in India ever knock.’
‘I shall never get used to it!’ declared Lottie, shuddering.
‘Oh yes, you will. I prophesy that within a year you will find yourself quite unable to support life or run the simplest ménage without the assistance of at least a dozen servants, with another ten for Edward. Mrs Shadwell informed me last night that they run a very modest establishment here - a mere thirty-five servants!’
But the mention of Edward had instantly diverted Lottie, who blushed pinkly and said with a small gasp: ‘Oh Winter, Edward is to call on Papa today. Mama has told him all, and Papa has been so kind. And only think - he knows Edward’s uncle! They were at school together. He would not commit himself, but - but he did not look at all displeased, and he said that it was hard for a father to find his daughter again after so many years only to lose her before he had time to know her. That does not sound as though he meant to refuse his consent, does it?’
‘No, of course it does not. What possible objection could he have? Edward is most eligible. And so handsome,’ added Winter with a twinkle.
‘He is handsome, is he not?’ sighed Lottie, accepting the tribute as a simple statement of fact. And indeed to her adoring eyes Edward’s blunt-nosed, blue-eyed, freckled face and flaming red hair embodied all that was admirable in masculine good looks - although barely two months ago her mental vision of the ideal male would have been found to resemble the late Lord Byron; a gentleman who had borne no recognizable likeness to Lieutenant Edward English.
‘You are so lucky, Winter,’ sighed Lottie. ‘I do not think that it is fair. You are a whole year younger than I am,
and yet you are going to be married in a few weeks’ time whereas I shall have to wait for at least half a year, and probably a great deal longer. Mama says that an engagement of only six months would be considered scandalously short, but Edward hopes to be able to persuade Papa to allow it so that we may be married in the spring. Do you think he will agree? It is delightful, of course, to be with Papa again, but— Oh, I know that it sounds most undutiful in me, but he is not Edward!’
But as it happened, Lottie had not to wait for as long as that.
She was to be married within a few weeks of their arrival in Delhi, for Edward had received information - unofficial but believed to be reliable - that his Regiment, who were Queen’s and not Company’s troops, might be sent to augment Admiral Seymour’s forces in China early in the New Year. In the light of this information he desired to get married as soon as possible, in case such a calamity occurred. He had, he said, already known Lottie for two months, during which time he had seen her daily, and this surely constituted a long acquaintance, for had they been in England he might well have seen her at the most once or twice a week even if they had been betrothed. There was little point, he argued, in being separated from her for the next few months, only to be married on the eve of his departure and when faced with the prospect of indefinite separation. Let them at least enjoy a short spell of happiness, and then if the worst occurred and he was indeed ordered to China in the following year, they could face it with more fortitude as husband and wife. While should he be killed, added Edward bluntly, his wife would be amply provided for, since all he possessed would revert to her.
From this last and strictly worldly point of view Edward’s arguments carried considerable weight, and when reinforced by the appeals of sentiment and emotion they had carried the day, for Lottie, upon hearing of the possibility of her Edward being sent to China, had instantly swooned away, and only the promise of an early wedding had prevented her - upon being revived with the aid of burnt feathers and hartshorn - from repeating this affecting gesture.
Mrs Abuthnot, alarmed by her daughter’s pallor and despair, had withdrawn all opposition, and the entire party had repaired to the drawing-room where Mr Shadwell, despite the unsuitability of hour, called for champagne so that all might drink to the health and happiness of the betrothed pair.
It was at this point that a servant announced Captain Randall, who was greeted affectionately by Mrs Abuthnot, introduced to the Shadwells and once again thanked for his assistance on the journey by Colonel Abuthnot. Informed of the betrothal and wedding plans of Lottie and Edward he congratulated them in a somewhat preoccupied voice, and announced that he had only called in order to make his adieux. He regretted that he could not accompany them to Delhi, but he could not delay his return to Lunjore any longer.
Winter had spoken a few stiffly formal words of thanks when he had shaken hands with her, to which Alex - his eyes on a massive clock at the far side of the room - had replied briefly that he was happy to have been of any assistance to her. He was quite obviously in a hurry and impatient to be off, and having swallowed half a glass of champagne with absent-minded haste had shaken hands with the assembled company and left. The rattle of his carriage wheels died away on the long drive, and Winter was astounded and disturbed to find that the sound brought her a sudden feeling of being alone and unprotected. Which was of course absurd, for was not Colonel Abuthnot here to take his place and see that she came to no harm?
But as the slow days dragged by she was surprised to find how much she missed him. Not the man himself, but the feeling he had given her that as long as he was there she was safe. She had not stopped to analyse it, and she would not do so now. But the fact that he had gone, and that it would never again be any part of his duty to see to her comfort and safety, did not bring her any feeling of relief, but rather a vague sensation of insecurity and loss. Which must, she decided, be because he had been a link with Conway.
14
Edward English left for Meerut on the day following his momentous interview with Colonel Abuthnot, and Lottie found what comfort she could in planning her wedding, which was to take place late in October. But their stay in Calcutta was by no means spent in idleness, for the kindly Shadwells arranged numerous entertainments for their guests, and cards of invitation for balls and assemblies, including a State Ball at Government House, arrived at the house on Garden Reach in an apparently never-ending stream.
Mrs Gardener-Smith and Delia were also in Calcutta, for Colonel Gardener-Smith having obtained three months’ leave, they had decided to remain there for a week or two in order to rest and recuperate after the long voyage, and they had driven over several times to visit the Abuthnot ladies and accompany them on shopping expeditions to the city.
Calcutta, as the capital and headquarters of the Governor-General and the Council, and seat of the Supreme Government, had a reputation to keep up in the way of gaiety, and the State Ball had been a revelation to Lottie and Sophie, who had never attended such a function before. Even Winter, accustomed to the almost unrelieved black and white attire of the men who had danced at Ware and in the London ballrooms, had imagined for one dazzled instant that the Governor-General was giving a fancy-dress ball.
Men in the gorgeous dress-uniforms of regiments whose names were rarely heard outside India, regiments of Cavalry, of Irregular Horse, of Bengal Infantry and Artillery - men wearing the pale blue and gold of the Light Cavalry, the canary yellow of Skinner’s Horse, the green of the Rifle companies and the scarlet of Infantry regiments - vied with the shimmering silks and frothing tarlatans of feminine ball-gowns in richness of colour and glitter of gold lace, and outnumbered the women by six to one.
Moving among them in more sober attire, crows among a flock of peacocks, were the rich Calcutta merchants - men such as Mr Shadwell - or, distinguished by ribbons and orders, the members of the Governor-General’s Council and high officers of the East India Company. Indian guests, many of them ablaze with jewels and wearing brightly coloured brocades and muslins, their dark faces often no darker than the sun-burned skins above the high tight collars of dress uniforms, mingled with the company but did not dance, and Lottie commented with surprise on the fact that there were no Indian ladies present.
‘In the East, women are kept in their proper places,’ said Colonel Abuthnot with a twinkle. ‘An Indian gentleman would consider it highly improper to allow his womenfolk to gallivant about in public semi-naked. As for permitting them to be clasped about the waist to prance to music in the arms of a strange man, such a thing would be unthinkable.’
‘George, how can you speak like that!’ - Mrs Abuthnot was genuinely shocked. ‘Surely you do not disapprove of dancing? As for being semi-naked, that is the grossest exaggeration, and I wonder at you for saying such things before your daughters.’
‘I did not say that I disapproved of dancing, my love,’ retorted Colonel Abuthnot mildly. ‘But I confess I have often thought that our Western dances must appear exceedingly abandoned when viewed by Eastern eyes. And you must admit that modern fashions display a great deal of the female form.’
‘No such thing!’ declared his wife indignantly. ‘Why, when one considers that our grandmothers thought a mere slip of wetted muslin sufficient for evening wear, I cannot imagine how you can regard the present fashions as immodest.’
‘Oh, I will concede that they are an improvement on the fashions of the Regency,’ admitted the Colonel, ‘but it never fails to surprise me that a woman who feels it necessary to conceal herself from the waist downwards in a vast cage of skirts and whalebone, should be able, without a blush, to make such a display of arms, shoulders and bosom. Not, as a European, that I have any complaint to make. I merely wonder what our oriental friends think of it.’
Mrs Abuthnot looked ruffled, but the retort that she had been about to utter died at the sight of Delia Gardener-Smith who happened to pass at that moment on the arm of a scarlet-coated officer, for Miss Gardener-Smith so amply bore out the truth of C
olonel Abuthnot’s statements. The hoops of Delia’s crinoline supported at least twenty yards of lime-green taffeta trimmed with blonde, and her wide, swaying skirts permitted only the barest glimpse of small satin slippers; but the tight-fitting décolleté bodice allowed for a lavish display of plump white bosom and dimpled shoulders.
Mrs Abuthnot flushed uncomfortably, and furtively twitching her light lace shawl closer about her own ample shoulders, cast an anxious eye over her own two daughters. But neither Lottie nor Sophie, small-boned and fragile, could have lent even the most revealing of gowns a look of abandon, and the bodices of their modest pink and blue tarlatan dresses were provided, unlike Delia’s, with discreet fichus and small puffed sleeves.
Winter’s dress was a different matter, for she wore one of the trousseau ball-gowns selected by Lady Adelaide; a white moiré-antique of imperial magnificence, draped with flounces of Brussels lace looped up at intervals with pearls, and with a bodice cut every inch as low as that worn by Delia. But the carriage of her slim shoulders, and the tilt of her small head with its weight of smoothly netted black hair, had an unconscious dignity that forbade any comparison with Miss Gardener-Smith’s lavish display of dimpled flesh.
Mrs Abuthnot, her stout and comfortable person suitably arrayed in gros-vert taffeta shot with black, confided in an uneasy whisper to Delia’s mama that it was an odd circumstance that toilettes which had seemed unexceptional in England should appear almost daring when worn in the East: ‘I suppose it is because there are so many Indian guests present tonight,’ she concluded unhappily.
Mrs Gardener-Smith bristled slightly and observed that for her part she considered the present fashions quite charming, and that several people had complimented her upon Delia’s appearance. Lady Canning indeed had been more than kind. Such a pleasant creature! - although to be sure it was a pity that she had elected to wear crimson, as it made her appear sadly pale. It was probable that she found the climate trying, this being her first visit to the East. As for the Governor-General, though Mrs Gardener-Smith had not yet spoken to him, she considered that he too did not look to be in the best of health.