Star of India by Alice Perrin (best e book reader .TXT) 📕

"Mother," shouted the three little girls in chorus, "this dear boy wants to come to our school. We will make him a Christian, mayn't we?"

To their mortified astonishment this praiseworthy plan did not meet with the encouragement it deserved. The Commissioner's head servant pounced on the red-coated pagan and took him, howling loudly, from his friends.

Stella rose. "Sher Singh!" she called angrily, "let the child alone!" Of course, the man heard her order, must have known, though perforce she had spoken in English, what she wished him to do; but he paid no attention, just bore the child, kicking and screaming, towards the servants' quarters.

Martha and Mary and Deborah ran to their mother[Pg 94] and buried their faces in her skirt. Stella looked round for Robert; he was drinking a whisky and soda, regardless of the scene. Mrs. Cuthell laid a restraining hand on her arm. "It's quite right, Mrs. Crayfield," she said with reassuring inflection. "The servants' children must be kept in the background, otherwise they would swarm all over the place."

But Stella felt she had been publicly flouted by Sher Singh, and though for the moment she was helpless, she resolved to tell Robert, when the party should be over, that for the future she expected Sher Singh to obey her. Meantime, while Mrs. Cuthell made up fresh sets of tennis, she apologised prettily to Mrs. Beard.

But when the guests had all departed, with many gratifying assurances of their enjoyment, her courage dwindled. Since the night of her arrival at Rassih she had dreaded Robert's anger; the unpleasant memory remained with her so vividly—the uproar, the helpless alarm of the servants, her own fear and dismay. Never before in the whole course of her sheltered existence had she seen anyone so angry. And now, were she to protest against Sher Singh's behaviour, what if he should rage at her in the same manner? As he passed into his dressing-room she recognised, with a sinking at her heart, that she was afraid of her husband, abjectly afraid, ten thousand times more afraid of him then she had ever been of grandmamma. She dared not risk a scene, dared not stand up for herself. She would let the matter rest for the present, wait till Sher Singh [Pg 95]disobeyed her again. After all, perhaps the man had not heard, or had not understood her this afternoon.

However, towards the end of dinner she happened to look up and catch Sher Singh regarding her with an expression of such venomous hatred that she barely checked an exclamation. Meeting her astonished gaze, he turned away abruptly to the sideboard, and she drew in her breath, shivering. When, a little later, he was pouring port into Robert's glass, she observed that his hand shook, that his eyes were heavy and bloodshot; there was something strange in his appearance.

She tried to dismiss the incident from her mind, turned her thoughts to some advice Mrs. Beard had given her as to studying Hindustani. At least she might dare to attack Robert on that point. It was like being a deaf person not to understand the words spoken around one. And once she had obtained some command of the language she would be in a position to give her own orders to the other servants without Sher Singh's intervention.

She waited until they were in the drawing-room, and Robert had flung himself into an easy chair to examine some official document. He worked very hard, and seemed to think of little else.

"Robert," she began softly. He did not hear her. She repeated his name and he looked up abstractedly. Then he lowered the sheets of foolscap and removed his pince-nez.

"What is it now?" he inquired with indulgent resignation.

[Pg 96]

"Can I have lessons in Hindustani?"

"Why? What good would that do you?"

"I want to learn, and I have nothing particular to do while you are at work all day."

"You've got the piano, and you can order what books you want from Bombay. Haven't you any fancy work?"

She laughed. "Fancy work! I want to use my brains."

"Don't talk nonsense. What good will Hindustani do your brains? Keep up your French and music. Natives respect Englishwomen far more if they can't speak the language."

"Oh, Robert, what a thing to say! I'm sure that can't be true."

"You know nothing about it, you silly child. Come here!"

She had risen and was moving restlessly about the room. As she passed he put out his arm and pulled her down on to his knees. With a strong effort she controlled her reluctance, realising, suddenly aghast, that her distaste for Robert's demonstrations of affection was on the increase, that it threatened to develop into actual aversion. As he pressed her face against his shoulder, kissing her hair, a sort of desperation seized her. She did not love Robert, had never loved him, and at this moment she almost hated him. The question rose in her mind: Was it because they had known she was not in love with Robert that grandmamma and the aunts had shown so little sympathy with her marriage, had behaved as if she were doing something [Pg 97]reprehensible? If so, why had they not warned her? Yet, supposing they had gone so far as to put probable consequences before her, would she have heeded, believed them? No, she knew well enough that in her headstrong simplicity nothing would then have turned her from her purpose. If anyone was to blame in the matter it was Robert, who had married her to please himself only, regardless of her ignorance of life and love, even partly, perhaps, because of it. She recalled a sentence in the letter Maud Verrall had written announcing her engagement: "I am very happy and awfully in love." If only she was in love with Robert! But she was not, she never could be. Did he know it? Not that she believed he would care one way or the other as long as she submitted to his will in every detail. But at least she did not intend to submit with regard to learning Hindustani. More than ever did she feel that congenial occupation of mind was a necessity, that if she could not satisfy her craving for knowledge of the country she would rather have stayed on at The Chestnuts. How could she hope to understand India, as far as it was possible for an Englishwoman to do so, till she was able to talk to the people? She had already discovered that India for its own sake did not interest Robert. He worked hard because he liked work. He had a clear, hard brain; the mode of existence suited him; he appreciated his big pay and the importance of his position; natives were afraid of him, and he liked to inspire fear. He never talked to her of his work, or of the people and their histories and religions, and now[Pg 98] he did not want her to learn the language, beyond the smattering that would suffice for her daily requirements.

However, learn it she would. And a means, though repugnant, of gaining her ends occurred to her. Bracing her will, she slipped her arm about his neck and laid her lips to his cheek. "You are Satan Sahib now," she murmured plaintively. "I don't like you at all."

His grasp of her tightened. "Why, what have I done?"

"The first little thing I have ever asked for you refuse me!"

"What was it?"

Good heavens! Were her wishes so trivial to him that they could pass from his mind on the spot?

She answered his question without betrayal of her resentment. "That I should learn Hindustani properly."

"What a little pest! Well, if I say 'yes,' how much will you love Santa-Sahib?"

"Ever and ever so much," she cooed, knowing that half measures would be useless, that she must pay, and pay fully, for what she wanted.

"All right, then we must see about a respectable old munshi, who won't let you work too hard or teach you bad words. After all, if you must use what you call your brains, it may be better for you than French novels. But remember, if you're going to pose as a clever woman I'll divorce you at once!"

[Pg 99]

"I don't think you'll get rid of me quite so easily," she laughed. The victory elated her. In future she would have no scruple as to this method of conquest when the object she desired was worth it. So she sipped her first taste of the power of sex hypocrisy, scented the supreme value of feminine arts and wiles.

[Pg 100]

Stella was careful to conceal from Robert the pleasure she found in her lessons with the white-bearded, horn-spectacled patriarch appointed her tutor. Having attained her desire through guile, she did not intend to risk deprivation through candour. Now and then, as a precaution, she would allude jokingly to her studies, sometimes feigned to be weary of them, implying that only a determination not to be baffled by a self-imposed task caused her to persevere; and Robert, who regarded the matter as a whim that would pass, made no further obstruction. During the hours while he was safely at office she worked zealously, and the progress she made surprised her, unconscious as she was of her own mental ability. Soon she could carry on simple conversations with the old teacher, and she forbade Champa to speak to her in English, greatly to the disgust of that accomplished female, who feared that her prestige in the compound as interpreter to the memsahib might suffer.

Champa sulked, and in some mysterious fashion seemed to join forces with Sher Singh in creating an atmosphere of espionage that to Stella was intensely exasperating. Did she give an order on her own account, it was caught up at once and repeated elaborately by the ayah; if she wandered in the garden Sher Singh would follow, and when she made [Pg 101]objections both servants professed to misunderstand what she said. She felt she was being harried, and was unable to discover the reason. Never could she succeed in exploring the servants' quarters, for Sher Singh was always at hand; and as Robert had bidden her keep away from the low line of dwellings that swarmed with people, like a species of human ant-heap, disobedience might be reported by Sher Singh to his master either with or without intentional spite. Sometimes Mrs. Cuthell came to see her, also Mrs. Piggott and Mrs. Antonio, and during their visits Champa lurked and peeped, or Sher Singh hung about the doorways.

These ladies invited Mrs. Crayfield informally to tea or to tiffin, but Robert discouraged acceptance, said it was better not to start intimacies, as if he were jealous of her possible friendships; and although no real sacrifice was entailed, Stella made capital out of her refusals—pretended she was foregoing a pleasure for the sole reason that she wished to follow Santa-Sahib's will. She told herself she was growing sinfully deceitful; but her apprehension lest her study of the language should be stopped if she opposed Robert's prejudices in any other direction was stronger than her conscience. Anything to keep him amiable. Sometimes she wondered if she had any conscience left. Therefore Crayfield remained complacently convinced of his young wife's devotion. She gave him no trouble, was apparently content to leave the household control to Sher Singh, always looked lovely and fresh and sweet-tempered, and he desired no more. Wit and wisdom, intelligent [Pg 102]conversation on her part would merely have bored him, rendered him vaguely suspicious. In his opinion women were better without education, which, all the same, was not to be confounded with what he regarded as "accomplishments." He liked her to sing pretty ballads and play waltzes; he enjoyed singing to her sympathetic accompaniment; and when she attempted to paint flowers and kingfishers and storks, or embroider strips of "crash" with intricate patterns in coloured cottons, on the lines of Mrs. Daw's remembered achievements, he criticised the results with patronising encouragement.

Thus the days passed smoothly. Rides in the late afternoon, a few formal dinners to "the station," the weekly "at homes," music in the evenings, until, shortly before Christmas, they went into camp on a tour of inspection. This meant double sets of tents, quantities of folding furniture, camels and carts and followers innumerable; it was a kind of royal progress. They passed from district to district, joining camps with various officials who came within the Commissioner's jurisdiction, friendly people to be entertained by their chief, entertaining him and his pretty wife in return. Stella revelled in the long marches on horseback, in the brilliant "cold weather," the small game shooting parties in the evenings when work was over, and the ever interesting background of