Zemindar (27 page)

But he! He had been cold, cynical and calculating. To have known all the time that I was on a fool’s errand, and to have allowed me to show my hand and demonstrate my ignorance of men as he had done, was unpardonable. It was something no true gentleman—no one like Charles, for instance—would ever have been capable of. Remembering Mr Erskine’s iniquities was a bulwark against recalling my own shortcomings, so by the time I got home I had worked myself into a towering temper and a very thorough detestation of the man I had left. I wished with all my strength that somehow I could avoid meeting him again, but this, of course, was a forlorn hope. Charles’s initial disapproval of his brother had dissipated over the last few days and I had small reason to doubt that we would visit Mr Erskine at Hassanganj as soon as an invitation was tendered. In this belief I was right, the promptings of Charles’s good nature being reinforced by two other and important factors.

The first was a letter which Charles had received that day from his mother, written a mere two months before. After two cross-hatched pages of news about Dissham, Mount Bellew, relatives and friends in England, Mrs Flood had turned her attention to her son’s affairs in India.

I had met Mrs Flood on several occasions and been intimidated by her on all of them. She was one of those large, slow, dictatorial women who plough their way successfully through life, and the lives of those around them, helped only by an immense and unshakeable belief in their own infallibility. Unhampered by intelligence, imagination or sensitivity, ignorant of all such imponderables as the rights or feelings of others, she had managed to bend the world to her will by her sheer incapacity to entertain another’s point of view. It was said that she had once been a beauty. Perhaps. But she had run to fat, and now her heavy features gave indication of nothing other than determined selfishness. I had often wondered how such a woman had produced a son like Charles. That she was the mother of Oliver Erskine was in no way astonishing to me.

In her letter she was naturally delighted to know that our voyage had reached a safe conclusion, and hoped that we would all enjoy our stay in Calcutta. However, she exhorted Charles, it would be a mistake to linger in the capital too long. It was Charles’s first duty to make the acquaintance, gain the friendship and win the confidence of his brother in Hassanganj. Then followed a eulogy on the extent, importance and wealth of Mr Erskine’s possessions—with the emphasis on the wealth. She had always regretted not having the opportunity of visiting Hassanganj and seeing her eldest son again: fate and her second husband had both proved intransigent. But now Charles must take the opportunity of securing to himself some at least of those material benefits that his father had been unable to provide. Oliver was unmarried and showed no inclination for marriage. Charles must therefore realize that as Oliver’s nearest relative, he was also his most likely heir. Charles was to give due consideration to this fact and do all in his power to cement the natural ties of blood by subordinating his own inclinations to his brother’s, studying his brother’s wishes, and insinuating himself thoroughly into his brother’s mind and heart.

She remained, as ever, her dear boy’s fondest mama.

Letters from home were always read aloud, which was unfortunate in this case. By the time he reached the close poor Charles was red with embarrassment at his parent’s vulgarity, and I was grateful that only Emily and I were present.

The second factor that militated against my heartfelt desire never to see Mr Erskine again was an interview between Wallace and his commanding officer that took place the morning after my unfortunate visit to Major Cussens’s bungalow.

Wallace was late getting home for
tiffin
, and I knew as soon as he entered the dining-room that what he most feared had overtaken him. He had been ‘carpeted’ by Colonel Hande. Naturally we were not told the details of the painful meeting, but its general direction could be guessed at, by me at least, and its outcome could not be hidden. I conjectured that Colonel Hande, aghast at what had been brought to his attention regarding the Averys’ debts and the altogether unfortunate tenor of their affairs, had had no option but to order Wallace to take up one of the civilian administrative posts now being filled by Army officers. The annexation of Oudh earlier in the year, with all the concomitant responsibilities of such a step, had proved too much for the Company’s Civil Service to manage, and in order to bridge the gap between the creation of new posts and the recruitment of new staff, the Army had been asked to second officers to act as civil administrators in many areas. I could not help wondering how adequate an administrator a man with only military training would make, but in Wallace’s case, at least, it was a godsend. As he told me later, the alternative Colonel Hande had offered was retirement from the regiment, and as Wallace was a ‘Black’ or Native Service officer, such a step carried no hope of repatriation. Nor would it have been easy for him to obtain any other employment in India.

The household was thrown into turmoil by this intelligence; only I had been in any way prepared for it, and even I had not looked to lose the roof from over my head.

Wallace told us of Colonel Hande’s decision as we sat at
tiffin
. Perhaps he found it easier to break the news to Connie with others present, and in order to get the worst over first, he commenced by saying, ‘Well, Con, old dear, Hande wants me to go into the
mofussil
, do a wretched job for the civils who ain’t up to it! Interestin’ and all that. Bit of a pat on the back, really. Only trouble is, we’ll have to put off your little jaunt to England for another few months. There’ll be expenses in the movin’, setting ourselves up in the next place. All that to think of. Money’s going to be a little short again for a time.’

He was white-faced, and his hands trembled as he raised his fork to his mouth. He did not look at his wife as he spoke.

‘Put off England? Again?’ Connie put down her implements and stared at her husband. ‘Oh no, Wally! Not again! Please not!’ She was always pale, but suddenly the red rims around her eyes seemed more pronounced, and her flaccid under-lip trembled as she spoke.

‘I’m afraid so, my love. Just for a few months, that’s all. I’ll have things straightened out in no time, but initially—well, you’ve been through it, old lady, you know how much it costs just movin’ the baggage.’ He attempted cheerfulness.

‘Oh, Wally! Oh, Wally!’ And without another word Connie got up from the table and rushed to her room.

Wallace glanced at us miserably, all the ebullience, the silly optimism, drained from his expression, and then carefully and manfully told us of his interview, even mentioning his debts, but not of course their extent, nor how he had acquired them.

‘Damned decent of old Hande, really. He’s giving me a chance to fill the old moneybags again. Once we’re settled, the living will be cheaper, I dare say, and I’ll soon be able to get myself out of this little mess. Too bad about Con. She’ll feel it for a while. But things will look up pretty soon, and the country air will be pretty near as good for little Johnny as the sea air would’ve been. I’m sure of that.’

‘But, Wallace, she was counting on it so. The disappointment must be terrible. And even in the country, Johnny is going to have to face the heat. Isn’t there any way you can manage to send them home?’ Emily meant well, but gave small comfort to poor Wallace.

‘Not just at the moment, no. But as I say, in a few months I’ll see them safe on a ship. Take them down to Calcutta myself, and we’ll have a bit of a well-earned holiday together before she sails. It’ll be just the thing for us both—much better all round than the present plan!’

But he was not really persuaded of this fact, though he tried to assure us that he was. I saw Charles watching him with compassion and was not surprised when he said, with a hint of embarrassment himself, ‘If money is the only problem, Wallace, will you not allow Emily and myself to help? It would give us the greatest pleasure. You could look on it as a very small return for all your hospitality.’

I knew a fleeting hope, and saw it reflected for a second in Wallace’s face, but immediately he renounced it.

‘Good of you, old man. Very good! But no—of course it’s not only the money. Get that together in no time, as I have said. But once she thinks of it, Connie will realize that she would be unhappy leaving me to settle down alone in a new station. Make her miserable not to know how I’m living, people I meet—all that sort of female business, you know. She’ll want to fix up the house, sort out the servants, put in a few seeds and shrubs and so on. You know what women are! It’s only a postponement, and in the long run it’ll turn out for the best. She’ll see that herself soon. Just a little emotional for the moment is my Con. But it won’t take long for her to see it’s for the best!’

‘Please remember—if you should change your mind, the offer still holds, and as we are family after all, you must not hesitate to approach me. Any time. Any time at all.’

‘Thank you. Very good of you, and I can’t say how sorry I am that this should have happened while you were our guests. Would never have suggested you coming up-country if I had not felt we would be left in peace here for a while. ’Course, things are rather at sixes and sevens in the
mofussil
, and I’m not the only one to be banished from Lucknow, ha, ha! No, sir! Two or three others too: men who sling the lingo, y’know, as I do, worse luck. Just as well though that you aren’t entirely dependent on us. You had intended to visit Erskine in Hassanganj, hadn’t you? Everything falls into place, you see, and it’s only the suddenness of the thing that has upset Con.’

Connie forbore to appear at dinner, and directly after we had eaten, Wallace went out alone.

Charles, Emily and I sat in the shabby drawing-room and considered our predicament at length. Emily’s condition, of course, was uppermost in our minds, and the expectation of her confinement in early May had already thrown awry the plans we had made in Calcutta. Several alternatives, however, remained open to us. We could return to England immediately by the overland route, but in view of Emily’s condition, this was not a favoured possibility. We could return to Calcutta and await her confinement there. Or we could go to Delhi for a few months and then up to the hills where the baby could be born in the healthful, pine-scented air and coolness.

Kate Barry and I had both worked hard persuading Emily that it was perfectly possible to bear a baby successfully in India, and now, seeing my cousin’s tranquil acceptance of this fact, I wished we had been less zealous, for the alternative most likely to be adopted and the one most favoured by Emily herself, was a protracted stay in Hassanganj.

‘Of course, we would have to be back here … in time,’ she said eagerly.

‘Or better still, go up to one of the hill stations straight from Hassanganj,’ I put in quickly.

‘Either alternative would mean our going to Hassanganj first, and we have so far received only the most perfunctory of invitations,’ Charles objected correctly.

‘Oh, but it
was
an invitation, Charles!’ Emily pleaded.

‘No doubt, of a sort. But he has hardly been cordial … or truly welcoming, or even very interested in us. No, Emily, we will have to have something more explicit before we can take ourselves to Hassanganj. After all, as things are now, it will mean a visit of several months. And there is no saying he would welcome us for so long a stay.’

Emily’s face fell, and I knew she was thinking spitefully of the baby that had ruined all her plans.

‘Anyway,’ Charles continued, ‘we have no idea what life is like in the
mofussil
, as they term it. You’ll probably find it deadly flat and boring.’

‘And what do you think Lucknow has been, with never being able to ride or be seen dancing, or doing any of the things I would like to do?’

Emily pouted and Charles scowled, and they would soon have been engaged in one of their frequent arguments, but the door opened and Mr Erskine was announced, come to bring just that explicit invitation that was needed to confound my hopes and ensure a further acquaintance with him.

Emily and Charles between them gave Mr Erskine a rather confused account of Wallace’s ‘transfer’, which he heard with a straight face and every indication of sympathy, while I gave my entire attention to my needlework.

‘So, you see, your invitation could not come at a better time, and we will be so happy to be with you,’ Emily laughed delightedly, looking sideways at her spouse. ‘Charles is so anxious to see the place, and his mother will be delighted to know her two sons are together at last!’

‘My privilege,’ said Mr Erskine gallantly. ‘I hope you will not be disappointed. I am not a sociable man, and anyway there are few Europeans in the district—none within calling distance. But perhaps we can arrange a small party at Christmas time, if you would care for it. For the rest, well—I am kept fairly busy on the estate, but you must consider the place your home while you are in India, and come and go just as you like.’

‘I declare, I am quite excited by the prospect of it all,’ Emily said. ‘We have heard so much of Hassanganj and your house and so on, and I have been so curious to see it all, and then we have been so worried as to what was best to do, with poor Wallace being called away from Lucknow, so it is so nice to know we have somewhere to go—and not among strangers either, which I was not looking forward to—just now!’

Mr Erskine affected not to understand the last allusion when Emily stopped hurriedly, but her face flushed all the same. He turned to Charles and promised him the best shooting in Oudh ‘if he cared for such things’, and soon they were deep in duck, partridge and quail and then on to crocodile, leopard and tiger. His relatives, one on either side of him, hung on his every word in a most flattering manner, and I sat at a distance, intent on my needlework, inwardly bewailing my fate and wishing Mr Erskine in Hades.

He had risen to leave when his attention turned to me. He was waiting for his hat and cape when his eye fell on me in my corner and he turned to Charles in well-simulated confusion: ‘But forgive me! I have been most remiss in making no mention of Miss Hewitt. I hope it is understood that I am expecting her company as well as yours?’