Perhaps it was that - the youth and unsureness and the unawakened passion - that attracted him? To a palate jaded by experience, inexperience alone had a charm that was strangely and sharply new. He had been a fool. He, with all his knowledge of women, had handled this unsophisticated girl as though she had been some opera dancer to be seduced for the price of a trinket. Did she know that she was disturbing and desirable? … What had Randall been saying to her?
He had met Alex’s reflective gaze and for a long moment he had stared at him, his throat tight with rage. And later that evening, when the singing had begun, he had not failed to mark that neither Winter nor Randall was present, and judging from the direction of Sophie’s anxious gaze he had little doubt as to where they were.
He had endured it as long as he could, but as the minutes slipped by and they did not return, his jealous rage had increased until it had suddenly become past bearing, and he had risen and walked quickly away in the direction of the Water Bastion. Half-way down the stretch of wall the shadow of a huge neem tree lay across his path, and as he reached it he heard a sound of running footsteps and someone ran into him and would have fallen but for his arms.
‘Oh, it’s you—’ Winter’s voice was breathless and sobbing and she had forgotten that she disliked this man. She had forgotten everything but the fact that Alex had betrayed her - lied to her - shamed her. ‘Take me home. Please take me home. I cannot stay here.’
Carlyon drew her out of the shadows and into the bright moonlight, and looking down at her distorted face saw that it was wet with tears. He said furiously: ‘What has he done to you? My dear - don’t! I’ll go back and break his damned neck for you!’
‘No - no, please don’t.’ Winter’s fingers clung to his arm. ‘I want to go back to the bungalow. Please take me back.’
‘Of course.’ He took her hand and drew it through his arm and turned back towards the group near the Kashmir Gate, but they had not taken more than a dozen steps when he stopped: ‘We shall have to pass through all those people. There is no other way down. You will not like them to see you like this. May I—?’
He proffered a clean handkerchief and Winter accepted it gratefully. Presently she said in a more rational voice: ‘You are very kind.’
‘No, I am not.’ There was an unexpected bitterness and sincerity in his voice and Winter looked up, startled. Carlyon recovered himself swiftly: ‘I told you, did I not, that if I could serve you in any way it would give me great happiness to do so? I meant it, you know.’
‘I - I know.’
Did she know? Had she been wrong about Lord Carlyon? She had been wrong about Alex. If she could be wrong about Alex—
Quite suddenly she found herself telling him everything. Conway’s illness. Captain Randall’s perfidy, her own fears and doubts when Conway had failed to come to Delhi: ‘I could not understand it. I thought that he could surely have left the work to Alex - Captain Randall - just for a few days. Just to fetch me. But now that I know, I must go to him at once; I cannot wait another week in Delhi! I could help nurse him - I would not mind a sickroom. He might have another relapse and I not there. If he is ill he needs me. Will you - would you help me to go to him?’
Carlyon looked down into the wide, appealing eyes and saw that she was shivering violently. He knew nothing of this man that the young Condesa was to marry, but what he had seen of Captain Randall led him to suppose that the Captain’s revelations concerning his chief were probably correct. Randall did not give him the impression of a man given to that particular form of lying. On the other hand Randall appeared to have made - or attempted to make - advances to his superior officer’s future wife, and Carlyon found himself torn between an entirely primitive rage that he should have dared to touch her, and satisfaction in that by doing so he had played his, Carlyon’s, game for him by presenting him with an opportunity that appeared to be little less than a gift from the gods.
‘I will take you to Lunjore myself,’ said Carlyon. ‘You cannot go unescorted.’
Winter drew a quick breath, her hands clasping and unclasping against her grey habit. ‘Would you? Would you really?’
‘Of course. It is a piece of the greatest good luck that I purchased that carriage. You and your serving-woman can travel in it and I will ride. There is only one thing—’ He paused, frowning, and Winter said anxiously: ‘What is it?’
‘Well, I do not know,’ Carlyon spoke doubtfully, ‘but I think perhaps it would be as well if you did not mention this matter to the Abuthnots.’ He saw that he had startled her and said quickly: ‘I am sure that they would sympathize with your intentions, but they would be obliged to prevent you from going until you could do so under the charge of Mrs Gardener-Smith. They would not consider it at all suitable for you to travel either alone or in my care, and I do not imagine that Mrs Gardener-Smith could be prevailed upon to put forward the date of her departure.’
‘No,’ said Winter slowly. ‘No, she would not. And you are right about the Abuthnots. But I will not wait. I will not! I - I am my own mistress. No one can stop me.’
‘They will try,’ said Carlyon drily.
‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Her eyes were suddenly dry and bright and she straightened her slim shoulders and lifted her chin, stilling the trembling of her body with a visible effort of will. ‘When can we leave? Tomorrow?’
‘I could arrange it.’
‘You are very kind. I will speak to Mrs Abuthnot tonight and tell her that I wish to leave immediately for Lunjore. I must do that. If she will assist me I will not have to trouble you. But if she will not, then - then I think it will be better if we leave as early as possible.’
Carlyon said gravely: ‘You are quite right, of course. Let us hope she may assist you.’
He had no qualms on that score, since he was quite certain that the Abuthnots would do no such thing. He offered his arm to Winter and said: ‘Shall we go now? Do you ride home, or shall you go in the carriage? I can tell Mrs Abuthnot that you have a headache. I do not think, you know, that you should leave without her. It would be remarked.’
Winter had returned in the carriage, and Mrs Abuthnot, who had been alarmed by the girl’s pallor, had hurried her into bed and prescribed hot milk and chlorodyne drops. Her solicitude provided the opportunity Winter had needed to beg her permission and approval for an immediate departure to Lunjore, but Mrs Abuthnot, although deeply sympathetic, would not hear of it. Such a plan was out of the question.
‘After waiting for so long, dear, you can surely wait another eight days. Only think of poor Mr Barton’s chagrin if you were to see him after all these years when he is not in looks.’ To Winter’s passionate assertion that Conway’s looks could not make a particle of difference to her feeling for him, Mrs Abuthnot had replied that it was not dear Winter’s feelings that were in question, but poor Mr Barton’s. Winter had argued and pleaded and Mrs Abuthnot had wept sympathetic tears, kissed her fondly but remained adamant.
‘You will see that Colonel Abuthnot will agree with me. And Alex too.’ She had turned out the light and left the room, and Winter had lain awake in the darkness and made her own decision. She would not wait another eight days - or even one day. She would leave at once. Alex would be leaving Delhi on Monday and if she left tomorrow she would be in Lunjore by then: married to Conway and safe from him. She did not know why she had to be safe from Alex, or stop to realize that a part of the driving impulse to get to Lunjore and to Conway arose from a panic desire to escape from him.
Conway would have to get rid of Alex. He must arrange for him to be sent to some other appointment, and until that happened she at least need not see him again. As for Carlyon, she had forgotten both her dislike and distrust of the man and thought of him as no more than a means to an end. He was no longer a person with a character and passions of his own, but something of no more, or not so much, importance as the carriage and horses that would take her to Conway.
Winter groped for matches, and having found and lit a can
dle, slipped out of bed and wrote a brief note to Carlyon. The ayah should deliver it first thing in the morning. She wrote a second and longer one to Mrs Abuthnot, sealed it with a wafer, addressed it and put it away. Her trunks would have to be sent after her. To be packing trunks would not do at all. She lit a second candle, and making a selection of garments and other necessities, packed a small valise and a capacious carpet-bag. Carlyon would have to devise some means of smuggling them into the carriage. As for the ayahs, she would not be able to take either of them with her, but that could not be helped. And Conway would surely forgive the unconventionality of her proceedings once she was safely with him and had explained the circumstances. Struck by another thought she scribbled a hurried and loving note to Lottie - Lottie at least would understand!
That done she blew out the candles, and fell at last into an uneasy sleep.
Mrs Abuthnot had evidently given the question of Winter’s proceeding immediately to Lunjore no further thought, for she did not refer to it on the following morning, and having inquired affectionately as to whether Winter had quite recovered from her headache, was full of plans for pre-wedding festivities in the forthcoming week. A seemingly endless list of engagements tripped off her tongue, from which she was only interrupted by Carlyon inquiring of Winter if she would care to drive out with him that morning to try the new carriage?
Mrs Abuthnot was not at all sure that it was quite the thing for dear Winter to be seen driving à deux with Lord Carlyon, but consoled herself with the reflection that she was, after all, engaged to be married. Besides the child really did look remarkably pale, and a drive, even in the heat of the morning, would doubtless be of benefit to her. As they drove away she saw that Carlyon did not intend to sit in the carriage with his guest, but to ride beside it. The hood of the carriage had been raised against the morning sun and Mrs Abuthnot did not leave the shade of the verandah. Winter kissed her with unusual affection and Mrs Abuthnot, unsuspicious by nature, was touched.
The carriage rolled out of the drive under the shadows of the pepper trees, and ten minutes later, happening to look out of her bedroom window, Mrs Abuthnot saw Carlyon’s down-country bearer and two of his syces riding out of the side gate that led from the stables, taking with them the two spare carriage horses. She supposed that they must have had their orders, but it seemed to her an odd time of day to exercise horses, and she could only imagine that it was Carlyon’s ignorance of the country that had led him to order them out in the hottest part of the day. For a moment an odd twinge of uneasiness disturbed her, but Lottie demanding advice on the set of a ruched sleeve turned her thoughts into more congenial channels.
Twelve o’clock brought no sign of the carriage, and by one o’clock Mrs Abuthnot was seriously disturbed. Neither Winter nor Carlyon, she was persuaded, would be so thoughtlessly inconsiderate as to hold up luncheon to this extent. There could be only one explanation. The carriage must have broken down, or - horrifying thought - the horses had bolted with it.
Mrs Abuthnot was immediately seized with the conviction that Winter was at that moment lying in some nullah with a broken neck. ‘Oh no, Mama!’ cried Lottie turning alarmingly pale. ‘You cannot think … You cannot really believe … But Lord Carlyon would have sent back word had there been an accident. One of the syces would have ridden back.’
Investigation, however, proved that the procession that Mrs Abuthnot had witnessed leaving the stables that morning had also not returned. ‘Mama,’ said Sophie thoughtfully, ‘you do not suppose that they can have eloped?’
Mrs Abuthnot uttered a small shriek. ‘Sophie! How can you suggest such a thing!’
‘I am sorry, Mama, but you must own it is a little strange that all Lord Carlyon’s servants and his horses have left, and not one of them returned. And anyone could see that he admires Winter.’
‘Dear Winter would never—’ began Mrs Abuthnot, and stopped. She had suddenly recalled the kiss that Winter had given her before setting out that morning. The kiss that had seemed so unusually demonstrative for that undemonstrative child. She had imagined at the time that it was intended in part as an apology for her outbreak on the previous night when she had pleaded to be allowed to leave immediately for Lunjore.
Lunjore—! Mrs Abuthnot fell back in her chair with a groan that brought Lottie and Sophie running to her side. ‘Oh no!’ gasped Mrs Abuthnot pressing her plump hands to her ample bosom. ‘Oh no! She could not do such a thing! She would at least have left a letter!’
Lottie flew for the hartshorn while Sophie, more practical, departed in the direction of Winter’s bedroom, to return a few minutes later with two letters that she had found propped up on the chimney-piece where they could not fail to catch the eye of the first comer.
Colonel Abuthnot, summoned from the lines by an entirely unintelligible missive from his wife, gave it as his opinion that Carlyon had behaved shockingly, and that come to think of it he had never quite trusted the fellow. Something a sight too smooth and cynical about him. But he had not thought it of the little Condesa. Probably foreign ways; he had heard that they were surprisingly lax on the Continent.
To his wife’s plea that he would set off immediately in pursuit of the runaways he had replied with an unqualified refusal. He was far too busy a man to go tearing about the country in pursuit of a young chit who was old enough to know better:
‘It’s no good, Milly, my dear. I will not do it. The girl is going to her future husband. Very understandable. I cannot conceive what possessed Carlyon to agree to such a mad scheme, but if she was set upon going he may have considered that her protection on the journey was of paramount importance. Though he must also have realized that his presence was enough to ruin her reputation. I can only hope that the Commissioner of Lunjore will take a lenient view of it. As for suggesting that I should go in pursuit of them, the idea is preposterous. If anyone is to go in pursuit it had better be Captain Randall. The girl is betrothed to his superior officer, not mine. And he is a deal younger than I am; he might even overtake ’em. I should not.’
‘Alex!’ exclaimed Mrs Abuthnot frantically. ‘Why did I not think of that!’
She hurried away to dash off a brief note requesting Alex’s immediate presence, and having underlined ‘immediate’ with three black lines that tore the paper, added a postscript, also underlined, stressing the urgency of the matter. This missive had been dispatched post-haste to Ludlow Castle, the residence of Alex’s host, Mr Fraser, with instructions to the bearer of it that it must be delivered into the Captain Sahib’s own hand. But Alex had been out, and the bearer of the letter, whose instructions had not included scouring Delhi for the Captain Sahib, had settled down to sleep away the afternoon in a convenient patch of shade in the compound, until such time as the Sahib should return.
Alex had arrived back barely half an hour before sunset in no very good humour, and had not been pleased to receive Mrs Abuthnot’s agitated summons. He dismissed the servant with a verbal message to the effect that he would present himself within the hour, and went off to take a bath and change out of the dusty, sweat-soaked clothes he had worn all through the hot day. Having done this, he picked up the crumpled piece of letter-paper again and read it through, scowled at it, and tearing it into several pieces dropped them on the floor and told Niaz to have Latif saddle Shalini and bring her round to the verandah in ten minutes’ time.
He rode over to the cantonments in the warm, pearl-coloured aftermath of the sunset, when all the tints of earth and sky and river gather themselves together and merge into a brief opalescent twilight, and the first stars swim in a cool green sky like silver fish in clear water.
There were a good many carriages and riders on the roads; residents from Delhi and the cantonments driving out to enjoy the cool evening air. Alex passed several people whom he knew, but since his expression was anything but encouraging none of them had attempted to engage him in conversation. He had no idea what Mrs Abuthnot’s note portended, but imagined that Winter had poured
out to her something of the scene last night, and that she wished to hear from himself if he had really made such accusations against the Commissioner, and were they true.
Alex supposed that he would now have to convince the Abuthnots that he had, if anything, understated the case, and perhaps they would be able to prevent the girl from proceeding to Lunjore at the end of the month. The possibility that she might leave at once, and with Carlyon, had never occurred to him, and he was entirely unprepared for the announcement with which the tearful Mrs Abuthnot greeted him.
She saw the colour leave his face and a white line show about his mouth. He said: ‘What time did they leave?’
‘Quite early,’ sobbed Mrs Abuthnot, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘Nine o’clock, I think.’
‘Good God, ma’am,’ said Alex violently, ‘could you not have sent for me before?’
‘But we did not realize what had occurred until Sophie found this letter—’
She held it out to Alex, who having read it with eyes that were almost black with anger, crushed it into a ball and thrust it into his pocket. ‘And then you were out,’ explained Mrs Abuthnot, ‘and the stupid man never thought to inquire after you. And George - Colonel Abuthnot - positively declines to go after them.’
‘Quite out of the question,’ confirmed Colonel Abuthnot, who had caught the end of the sentence. He entered the room by the verandah door, and having nodded gloomily at Alex said: ‘What do you propose to do about it, my boy?’
‘Bring her back,’ said Alex tersely.
‘Too late for that now. She’ll have been out all night with that fellow before you can catch up with her. Besides, I can’t see that it will do any good for you to go along as well. Two men ain’t any better than one when it comes to playing propriety. Worse, if you ask me. Not sure I’d trust Carlyon very far. He had an eye to that girl. Wanted her himself, any fool could see that. Probably ruined her by now.’