Nurse in India (10 page)

CHAPTER NINE

Fortunately, Miss Jellings put down Stella
’
s haggard looks to fatigue after heavy nursing and did not question her; and after a long night
’
s sleep—for she was in truth too tired to be kept awake even by worry—she felt more able to cope with the situation.

It was in the middle of the morning that the first problem arose. Three mounted orderlies appeared at the rest house, magnificent in the state livery, and two of them led other horses—small, spirited Arabs. While the pair sat like graven images, the third dismounted and coming up the veranda steps handed a large white envelope to a hovering servant who brought it into Stella with a grave, “His Highness sends his salaams to the
memsahib
,” and then withdrew.

“A letter from Chawand Rao,” Stella exclaimed. “Oh, Jelly, I wonder what he has to say about my sudden disappearance!”

“Perhaps it
’
s your salary to date,” Jelly retorted dryly. “You
’
ve never mentioned his giving you any pay for your services.”

“Heavens! I never gave it a thought. The money side of the business did not enter my head.”

“Very laudable, no doubt, but I hope he
’
s not paying you in kind, with those two very dangerous-loo
k
ing animals.”

Amused in spite of herself, Stella tore open the envelope and took out a check. It was drawn for fifty pounds, and with a quick gasp of dismay she passed it across to Miss Jellings.

“I can
’
t possibly take all that,” she said frowning. “I was only there a few days.”

“Nonsense, child; for one of these nabobs it
’
s quite a modest rate of pay. But there
’
s a letter with it. See what he says.”

Still troubled Stella read Chawand Rao
’
s note. He was very distressed, he said, to hear of Miss Jellings
’
s bad health, and grieved, too, that he had not been able to say goodbye to “our angel” and to thank her once again for all she had done for them. He would have liked to send a check for many times the amount of the one enclosed, but feared that this might displease her; however, he assured her that if he could be of the smallest service to her, she had only to let him know. Meanwhile he hoped that she and Miss Jellings would accept the loan of two horses from his stables and—as soon
as the older lady was better
—
enjoy some pleasant rides together.

She had to smile as she handed the letter over to Jelly. As for that lady, she read the first half soberly enough, nodding agreement with Chawand Rao
’
s very proper sentiments, but threw back her head and laughed heartily as she came to the part about the horses.

“He wants to finish me off, I Should think,” she declared. “Unless it
’
s just a piece of Oriental tact. He may think it
’
s polite to ignore my age and decrepitude—if he
’
s aware of them.”

“I suppose we ought to send them back with a courteous refusal.” For the life of her Stella could not altogether banish the note of regret from her voice. Riding had always been a passion with her, and even during her hospital days she had managed to save up for an occasional canter in Richmond Park or on the Surrey Downs.

“Not in the least necessary.” Jelly, it seemed, had no qualms on the subject. “He owes it to you to show you what kindness he can, while you
’
re still in Kotpura State, and it will make you independent of other people
’
s offers of mounts. Roger, by the way, will probably feel he ought to lend that mare of his to his future sister-in-law.”

Stella hesitated.

“
Then shall we keep both?
”

“Certainly. You
’
ll have to take a groom with
you, if you go far afield. But it won
’
t be difficult to find one.”

That problem dealt with, another very soon presented itself. Jim Fendish, whom Stella had never met before, arrived just before lunchtime to see if Miss Jellings felt well enough to fix up another evening for the little dinner party that Roger was so keen to give.

He was a short, slim edition of Roger and possessed pleasantly easy manners; but though he was undeniably better-looking, his face lacked the strength of purpose so evident in his brother
’
s, and Stella
’
s quick summing up w was that he was a nice boy but not a patch on Roger.

“The party
’
s really in honor of Allegra,” he explained with shy pride. “Roger feels that she is having rather a tame time here, and thought it might be possible to get a few couples together for dancing—just to the record player.”

“Then I don
’
t see why you want to wait for me,” Jelly observed bluntly. “Time was when I danced like a fairy
—
though you might not believe it to look at me now—and though my dancing days are over it
’
s gall and vinegar to me to sit in an armchair all the evening and watch other folks gyrating.”

“Oh, he
’
s set his heart on your coming with Miss Hantley,” Jim Fendish assured her. “He
’
ll fix up a bridge game for you, and he
’
ll bring you back, he says, the minute you
’
re tired.”

“I don
’
t know that I ought to be out dancing, either.” Stella sought wildly for an excuse to get out of the invitation. “I
’
m terribly behindhand with my work for Miss Jellings, and I
’
d planned to spend the next few evenings writing a description of the Bhindi Fire Festival.”

“Stuff and nonsense, child.” Miss Jellings eyed her severely. “One more early night and you
’
ll be fit for work and for dancing, as well.” She turned to Jim. “What about the day after tomorrow? Will that give you time to collect your guests?”

The young man beamed. “That
’
s the very night we hoped you
’
d choose. We
’
ve sounded several people already, and that seems the one evening that everyone can manage.”

“Excellent. We shall be there in our best bib and tucker.
Tell Roger not to fetch us; we
’
ll arrive in splendid independence, in the famous old Austin.”

Having no valid reason for refusing, Stella dared make no further demur. To do so would have made some sort of explanation inevitable, and at the moment this was the last thing she wanted.

Her wardrobe was limited, and she had no difficulty in deciding what to wear. A gold lam
é
dress that Jelly had bought her in Paris, en route to Marseilles, was the obvious choice: it suited her to perfection, bringing out the gold of her hair and emphasizing her delicate wild-rose complexion. As she slipped it on, she could not help rejoicing, against all logic and reason, that Roger was going to see her at her best. If she were a rational creature she would, she knew, wish to make herself as plain as possible. But she wasn
’
t rational; she was a foolish, loving woman who, even if her heart was breaking, could find a grain of bittersweet comfort in reading in the eyes of her beloved that he thought her beautiful.

Jelly also took some trouble over her toilet for the great occasion. She arrayed herself in violet lace and pearls, and made herself up with such skill and artistry that for once it was easy to believe that she was more than a dowdy old globe-trotter, engaged vaguely in literary work. In fact, in the days of her youth, under a foreign name considered more romantic-sounding than the Sarah Jellings of her birth, she had been the prima ballerina in one of the most famous ballet companies in Europe, a personage to be lionized and feted wherever she went.

It was an ordeal for Stella, setting out with Jelly for Roger
’
s bungalow, for she had to hide her nervousness and pretend to share the old lady
’
s good spirits. But somehow, on arrival, her mood changed. Roger
’
s look of adoration as she slipped off her fur coat and stood revealed in the caressing folds of the golden dress—and Allegra
’
s simultaneous start of dismay—were balm to her wounds. A smile sprang to her warm red lips, and up went her curly blond head. Just for this evening she would forget the sorrow and trouble that lay in her path and enjoy the tributes that her youth and good looks exacted. And if Allegra did not like it—well, she could go hang! After all, she, too, had doubtless taken trouble with her appearance, and if her pink chiffon dress looked a trifle schoolg
ir
lish beside Stella
’
s one
Paris model, that was nobody
’
s fault.

There were sixteen people, all told, to dinner, some of whom had driven in from a considerable distance, and rather to Stella
’
s surprise Armand Verle was among the guests. He was seated some distance from her—she being at the top of the table at Jim
’
s right hand—so there was no chance for conversation, but his eyes told her, and more boldly than Roger
’
s had done, that he thought her lovely.

It was a relief to her that she had not been put next to Roger—he, of course, was seated between Allegra and Miss Jellings—but even to talk to Jim was embarrassing. She had the feeling that Allegra, while pretending to hang on Roger
’
s words, was listening to every sentence she uttered; and it was hard to resist the temptation to say things with the deliberate intention of annoying the eaves-dropper.

Jim, it was plain, was head over heels in love with the girl he was to marry, and every subject of conversation that arose was steered back, sooner or later, to Allegra. Stella mentioned her efforts at learning Hindustani and was told enthusiastically that Allegra was picking up Urdu in the most marvelous manner; she spoke of the glorious sunsets one saw in this part of India and heard that Allegra had never seen such skies, even in Switzerland; she asked him about his work and had to listen to his raptures over the intelligent interest that Allegra took in every detail of his career.

Every detail of your income is more like this precious
fiancé
e of yours, was Stella
’
s grim thought, and unable to digest any further praises of the other girl, she turned her attention to the man o
n
her right—a man in the police, whose conversation was less of the single-track variety and who proved quite an entertaining companion.

After dinner when the women trooped off to the drawing room, leaving the men to enjoy their port and swap stories, she had a taste of Allegra
’
s bitter tongue. Acting as hostess, she moved about the room offering cigarettes, and when she came to Stella she observed under her breath, “A gorgeous gown, my dear. All that it needs to set it off is a jewel or two—emeralds, for example.”

“And you could do with a few rose buds, couldn
’
t you—all innocent and dewy!” Without the slightest hesitation—and with no more than the faintest change of color—Stella flung back the retort and was humanly glad to see, from the way Allegra bit her lip, that the shaft had gone home.

Perhaps the little wretch will leave me alone now, she thought as she watched her pass along to chat with some
of
her of the guests and marveled once again at the gir
l’
s utter meanness. Knowing that she was to be left in possession of the field, could she not have behaved with ordinary
de
cency? But there it was! She trusted nobody and probably thought that the only way to ensure Stella
’
s carrying out her promise was by making her life in Ghasirabad a perfect misery—a course that Stella decided, showed a very poor knowledge of psychology.

The men did not
linger long over their wine—the passing around of the port decanter being little more than an empty rite in that climate—and as soon as they came into the drawing room, Armand made a beeline in Stella
’
s direction.

“Here we are again,” he exclaimed cheerfully. “And don
’
t tell me tonight that I
’
m not to pay you any compliments. If you could put on that dress and hope that no one would remark on it, then you
’
re no daughter of Eve.” As always she found it impossible to stand on her dignity with the smiling young Frenchman—or to remember with any seriousness his former outbursts
of passion.

“I
’
m glad you like my dress,” she returned gaily. “It comes from your little old hometown!”

“That goes without saying.” His eyes swept her from head to foot. And then he added, lowering his voice, “Lord, it
’
s good to see you again. I wish I could think you echoed that sentiment.”

“To tell you the truth, I
’
m rather surprised to find you here,” Stella told him frankly. “What with that long and uncomfortable drive from Bhindi—and with you and Roger not being exactly on cordial terms, these days
!”