Banked Fires

  CHAPTER VI

  THE LEADING LADY

  Meanwhile, Joyce at the Bara Koti, partially regained her confidence inlife, and tried to make the best of her surroundings.

  The house stood imposingly in extensive grounds which had beenartistically laid out by successive officials, in lawns, flower-bed,ornamental shrubberies, and a kitchen garden, all of which weremaintained by four _malis_ and a regiment of coolies. A dense hedge ofcactus separated the grounds from the roadway, with graceful bambooclumps at intervals for shade; and a rustic gate led to the carriagedrive, an avenue bordered by goldmohur trees.

  The building, which was one-storeyed, was of solid masonry, the floorbeing well raised upon arches. Wide pillared verandahs ran on everyside, and the roof was of concrete supported by iron joists. The roomswere lofty and spacious, with high doors and many windows, furnishedwith glass shutters and Venetian blinds; and were designed to fulfil therequirements of married officials of important position in theGovernment, who were expected to maintain a dignified state andentertain in a style to correspond. In a word, it was Government Houseon a minor scale, with a lordly status to keep up in the Station andDistrict.

  For his wife's sake, Meredith had endeavoured to make his home asattractive as possible so as to save inevitable comparisons between herpresent and past circumstances.

  However, there were drawbacks which even he could not avoid: the lack ofthe most ordinary conveniences of daily life, such as electric lightsand fans, water pipes, telephones, and English shops; and of them all,it was to be feared that the last might yet prove the most to bedeplored.

  The bathrooms, which were numerous, had no hot and cold water laid on;nor were there any but kerosene lamps to give light; and in lieu ofelectric fans, _punkhas_ with gathered frills were worked by means of arope through a hole in the wall. Kurta, Moja, Juti, and Paji, were thefour Hindu coolies employed in summer to keep the frill perpetuallywaving in whichever room it pleased the sahibs to sit; and the patientcreatures sat cross-legged on the verandah floor, nodding over the ropetill galvanised into activity by a shout from within.

  For baths, kettles of boiling water were fetched from the kitchen, fiftyyards or so distant, and cans of cold water from a tank beyond thevegetable garden, by a semi-nude servant whose duty it was to do thisand nothing else. It took Joyce many months to realise which of thenumerous servants in her pay could be required to perform a particulartask, so complicated were the differentiations created by caste.

  Muktiarbad was very much behind the times as to modern comforts andconveniences, but was entirely up-to-date in the fashions which theweekly journals depicted for the advantage of the gentler sex, and whichthe latest arrivals from "home" expressed. Moreover, Calcutta was only afew hundred miles away--a trifle in India--and contained first-rateshops and dressmakers. A week-end visit to the Metropolis for a round ofshopping was a common habit of the ladies of Muktiarbad, with its handytrain service; and if it added considerably to the cost of living, whatwould you, when the bazaar sold only Manchester goods in bales, and_saris_ for feminine apparel?

  Old Khodar Bux, who was available for eight annas per day, was atreasure to bachelor servants, as the only tailor to be had in theDistrict.

  In all other matters, the Station was content, for officials were birdsof passage, and what had sufficed the residents for years, was goodenough for today. Private enterprise was sluggish, and the cost oftransporting plant and material for the installation of electricity,prohibitive; so the sahibs continued to use kerosene oil; were fanned bycoolies, and were dependent on wells and tanks for their water supply,leaving it to the larger towns and great centres to revel in all theluxuries of modern times.

  The possession of a large Daimler by the Collector, and of a two-seaterRolls-Royce by the doctor, filled the other English residents with envy;but they were anathema to the natives of the bazaars and villages. RichIndians followed suit with cars of various sorts, but, generally, themachines were looked upon by the ignorant as ruthless inventions of thedevil, and to be feared accordingly.

  Joyce lived an idle life at Muktiarbad, served hand and foot by a hostof servants, and treated as a little queen by her neighbours. She didnot even try to "keep house" after the approved method in the East, abunch of keys jingling in her pocket, and everything that was of valuelocked safely away; a cook to stand behind her chair, once a day, torender the bazaar accounts; visits of inspection to the kitchen, aneagle eye kept on the dusting and sweeping, and the laundry-man's weeklywash duly checked; for Meredith's head _bearer_, who had assumedresponsibilities in his master's bachelor days and was too valuable tobe deprived of his office, continued to keep accounts and run theestablishment on oiled wheels. Joyce held him in secret awe and respect.

  Her ayah instructed her in Indian ways and customs, and castesusceptibilities; and it was no little tax to remember how not tooffend. The _bearer_ was not to be asked to carry trays of food, or the_khansaman_ to trim the lamps; the _masalchi_ had no responsibility withregard to the boots, or the sweeper with scullery concerns; and so on,and so forth. It was all very bewildering and made her nervous. Shecared too little for India to take much trouble to improve her knowledgeof the country or of the people, and was content to remain as anhonoured guest in her own house, with her precious babe to worship andcherish with jealous devotion.

  On her return from camp, visitors dropped in to see her, foremost amongthem, Mrs. Barrington Fox, the wife of a railway official of someimportance in the District; a lady young enough to have retained abelief in her power to charm. She had been very handsome at her _debut_,ten years ago, but the ravages of the climate had not spared hercomplexion which was delicately assisted by art to retain its bloom. Shehad the air of being languidly bored with the monotony of her life, andseemed disposed to patronise the "leading lady" who never led, save whenthe laws of precedence obliged her to occupy the seat of honour atdinner parties in the Station. It was a temptation to Mrs. Fox to adviseher in the way she should go, and she tactfully managed to hint at it."India is naturally strange to you, yet you do wonderfully!--I am sureyou are very clever," she would begin, and then make some suggestionwhich Joyce was very glad to follow. For instance--"I hear the Padrefrom headquarters wishes to hold service here next Sunday. He oughtreally to put up with you, but the Brights have had him lately andunless you write and invite him he is likely to go straight to them.What do you think?" she asked lighting a cigarette.

  Joyce had been in the hills on the few occasions when the Reverend JohnPugh had visited Muktiarbad from Hazrigunge and conducted Divine servicein the reading-room of the Club.

  "Do you think I should?" she asked, anxious to do the correct thing.

  "I was thinking that the Brights take too much upon themselves. Mrs.Bright is only the wife of the Superintendent of Police after all, andyour husband is the Collector."

  "But Mrs. Bright is a perfect dear."

  "Still she should not encroach on your rights. The District Chaplainusually stays with the Collector unless he has special friends in theStation with whom he divides his time. But do just as you like. Ithought perhaps he would think you did not want him."

  "I should like to have him very much," Joyce said eagerly. "My husbandwill be here and it will be quite a pleasure to us both." So Joycepromised to write her letter of invitation.

  On the whole, she was never at her ease with Mrs. Fox, who had rarely agood word for her neighbours and voiced strangely radical sentimentsconcerning Life and its obligations. They were often startling,particularly as she made no secret of the fact that she and her husbandnever "got on." Between puffs of cigarette smoke she would scoff at thelaws of marriage and speak with much leniency of divorce. Her sympathieswere invariably with offenders, and Joyce thought her rather too fond ofthe society of men. Meredith feared and disliked her. The fear was onhis wife's account, lest she should be contaminated. "I have no use fora woman of her type," he would say. "She has made a mess of her own lifeand is a poisonous influence to young wom
en."

  "But it seems she has a perfect brute of a husband, who leaves her toherself while he runs up and down the line amusing himself with otherwomen."

  "It's a lie," said Meredith sternly. "Fox is not a bad sort. Men ratherlike him, and he is a jolly good Traffic Superintendent. The Railwaystaff think a lot of him. I should not be surprised if he is fed up withher selfishness and the way she carries on with his assistants. Nodecent man tolerates that sort of thing."

  "If you talked to her for an hour, you'd think she was the injuredparty," said Joyce.

  "Then I'd rather you never talked to her."

  But that was ridiculous in a small station where everyone met everyoneelse every day, Joyce explained.

  So when Mrs. Barrington Fox called, full of gossip and friendliness, shewas received politely. After the matter of the Padre was settled, shedemanded to see the child and a quarter of an hour was spent inbaby-worship.

  "He's certainly not looking so well as when you brought him fromDarjeeling. Weaker, I should say, poor little chappie! I don't believethe place agrees with him--or with you, for that matter. You look a gooddeal paler. How do you feel?"

  "I am quite all right now, only a bit shaken," Joyce said doubtfully.Possibly she was not conscious how bad she actually was? Mrs. Fox wasnot comforting.

  "You mustn't run down, you know. The surest safeguard against epidemicsand illnesses peculiar to this miserable climate is never to allowyourself to run below par."

  "But what is one to do? One doesn't deliberately do it."

  "No, but you should eat heaps of nourishing things. Drink plenty ofmilk, for instance. But never fail to boil it, and never leave itexposed to the air. Milk is the most dangerous thing you can take, onaccount of its susceptibility to germs of every kind; especially entericand cholera. It simply asks for germs!"

  "And if you keep it covered, it goes bad!" cried Joyce alarmed since itformed the sole diet of her beloved infant.

  "It wouldn't be a bad plan to keep it in the refrigerator in bottles. Idid that all the winter, last year, when I was on milk diet."

  "It will turn me grey to keep in mind the many things I must not do outhere!" sighed Joyce.

  Mrs. Fox condoled with her out of fellow-feeling and congratulated herfor having given up camping. "If it doesn't suit you or the kid, I don'tsee why you should be obliged to do it. Men have to learn not to beselfish."

  Joyce fired up. "Ray is anything but selfish. Sometimes I think it is Iwho am selfish; but if it were only myself, I would never say a word. Wehave to do our duty by the child."

  "Exactly so. I quite see the point of view. Here you have the doctor athand. I am told he nursed you like a mother."

  Joyce wondered how Mrs. Fox had come to hear of it as, since her returnto the Station, she had seen no callers. "How _ever_ did you know?" sheasked ingenuously.

  "Oh, one hears things!" Mrs. Fox blew smoke through her nostrils andsmiled knowingly. "And how do you like him on closer acquaintance?"

  Joyce thought he improved on acquaintance. Mrs. Fox annoyed her by thatsmile.

  "He is an enigma to most, but if I know his type, he is not a littledangerous. He can be exceedingly rude. I passed him on my way here andcommon politeness should have made him pull up for a word or two. But herushed by in a cloud of dust with two fingers just touching the brim ofhis hat!--considering I was on foot, you can imagine my feelings. I havenever been treated so by a man in my life--unless it is by my ownhusband; but then, there's no love lost," Mrs. Fox remarked.

  "Perhaps Captain Dalton was in a hurry," Joyce suggested.

  "Don't excuse him. He can be very nice when he likes. Yesterday therewas Honor Bright hanging over her fence to talk to him, and though itwas his busiest time, he was there quite a long while,--you know theirgardens join. I saw them through Mrs. Bray's field-glasses. The Brays'verandah, as you know, looks on the Brights' grounds from beyond apaddock."

  "He thinks a lot of Honor," said Joyce remembering their conversation incamp.

  "Any one can see she is making up to him. But Mrs. Bright had bettertake care. No one knows anything of Captain Dalton's affairs. He mightbe married for all one knows. Honor Bright may be very popular in theDistrict, but she'll get herself talked about and end all her chances ofmarrying well. Naturally it is the ambition of her parents to see herwell settled, but she's far too unconventional. Did you hear of herescapade while you were in camp?"

  Joyce had not heard, but was eager to know all about it. She knew Honorwas careless of conventions out of a contempt for small minds and a loveof independence. All who knew her allowed that she was as "straight asyou make 'em," and admired her open nature and clear eye.

  "Didn't she write and tell you?"

  "We seldom write to each other."

  "I thought you were bosom friends!--well, she was out alone looking forearly snipe--someone had seen one in the fields beyond the bazaar--andwhile out, she was supposed to have been bitten by a snake----"

  "--Why do you say 'supposed'?" Joyce interrupted ready to spring to armsfor her friend.

  "We'll say she was bitten, if you like; only, people bitten by snakesgenerally die, and she didn't. She tied a ligature and was limping homewhen she met Captain Dalton in his car on his way to a dispensarysomewhere in the District. He took her up and home to his house whereshe stayed half the day alone with him. Her mother was week-ending inCalcutta, and Honor was in charge of her father's comforts and the home;but her father happened to have run out to Panipara for a rioting casewhich he and the police were bothered with; so Miss Honor stayed withthe doctor till she thought fit to come home."

  "Bitten by a snake!" gasped Joyce in consternation. "Poor Honor!--howterrified she must have been!"

  "That's best known to herself and him. Since then, you'll observe thatthere is a sort of understanding between them."

  "How do you mean?"

  "They seem to be on far better terms than he is with any one else in theStation, and Honor is falling in love with him. I am anything but blindto the symptoms!" and Mrs. Fox struck a match and lighted anothercigarette.

  "I suppose they grew friendly over the treatment of her wound," saidJoyce beginning to understand how it was that the doctor had learned toappreciate Honor Bright. Yet he was "not seeking to marry her."

  "I must get Honor to tell me all about it when I see her. Perhaps shedoes not know I am back?"

  "She knows right enough, for, as I have said, the doctor was with heryesterday, talking across the garden fence."

  Mrs. Fox smoked her second and third cigarette, drank tea with Joyce,and, when every topic of interest was exhausted, wended her wayhomeward, deploring the fact that her husband was too selfish to giveher a motor-car. "He doesn't care for one, so I have to do without; andwith only one riding-horse and that one lame, I am obliged to tramp thedusty lanes on foot."

  "I am also without a conveyance while my husband is in camp," saidJoyce, "but it does not matter as I like walking."

  "I don't. My frocks are not suited to pedestrian exercise and cost toomuch--" which suggested the idea to Joyce that Mrs. Fox's expensiveclothes accounted for her husband's economy in other directions. Shewatched her swaying languidly down the drive, a tall and gracefulfigure, stylishly dressed and pretty in a faded way, in spite of thedelicate pink of her oval cheek and the brightness of her thin lips.What a pity it was that she had never a good word for any one, and madeherself so ridiculous with the men, thought Joyce; it lowered her intheir estimation and laid her open to impudence. Though she wasattractive to many, she never succeeded in holding the attention of heradmirers very long; which was humiliating to say the least of it. Joycelooked upon her as an example of a true flirt, and feared heraccordingly--not on her husband's account, for Ray gave her a wideberth--but as a criminal at large. Women had whispered tales which shefound impossible to credit; the world was so censorious! But on thetheory that there was never any smoke without fire, she decided thatMrs. Fox was unscrupulous, and deplored the fact that the Station
wasobliged to put up with her. Apparently, so long as a husbandcountenanced his wife, no one else had any right to object to whatevershe might do! It was a strange world!

  The trend of her thoughts reminded her of the doctor's estimate ofherself, which he had subsequently withdrawn. But then, he could onlyhave been teasing, for Joyce knew herself, and flirting was very farfrom her intentions at any time, or under any circumstance. Forinstance, she was very sure she would never allow any man but herhusband to kiss her!--the bare idea was appalling!

  After the tennis hour at the Club, Honor Bright cycled up to the stepsof the Bara Koti, and ran in to embrace Mrs. Meredith and welcome herhome. "I am sorry not to have been able to come earlier, there was somuch to do, and a tennis match in the afternoons," she said in her full,deep voice which Joyce thought so musical. Yet she never sang. God hadgiven her a larynx, but the wicked fairies had robbed her of ear, so,though she loved music passionately, she could never produce a tune. "Imust be fit only for 'treasons, stratagems, and spoils,'" she was onceheard to say, "for it seems I was not born musical."

  However, it was pointed out to her that she was not just to herself; shehad plenty of "music in her soul" to satisfy even Shakespeare; it wasonly her inability to use the divine instrument in her throat. "You putme in mind of 'Trilby.' Perhaps you will sing if you are hypnotised!"Joyce had told her.

  "Captain Dalton mentioned that you and Baby had both been ill. However Iam glad to see _you_ so well. How is Squawk?"

  "How can you call him such a horrid name!" said Joyce reproachfully.

  Honor laughed heartily. "Tommy is responsible; you must scold him."

  "I shall, indeed. He's a bad boy!"

  "Not at all!--he's a Deare!" at which they both laughed, for Mr.Bright's assistant, like the Assistant Magistrate, had a name ofinfinite possibilities. A comic fate had thrown him and Jack Darlingtogether in the same Station, and they were provocative of fun in moresenses than the coincidence of their names afforded.

  The guest was carried off to see the son-and-heir in his crib and admirehis indefinite features that were prophetic of beauty, and his limbsthat were a miracle of elasticity.

  By and by, they settled down to talk and Honor was told of the Padre'sapproaching visit. "Mrs. Fox thinks we should ask him to put up with usthis time, or he might be offended," she explained. "Will your mothermind?"

  "Mind? she'll be only too glad, for in private life the old man is aterrible bore! he tells the same joke over and over again, and Mothersays she is determined not to laugh the next time. There ought to besome way of choking off stale jokes, don't you think, without offendingthe poor dear?"

  "Tell him one of his own. I am sure it will make such an impression thathe'll never forget it."

  "He's so polite, that he'll laugh heartily as though he'd never heard itin his life!"

  "What a hopeless person! However, I shall be glad to save your motherfrom nervous prostration," said Joyce.

  "Mrs. Fox always gets news in advance of everyone else," said Honor. "Iwonder how she does it?"

  "She says she hears a lot--Ray says, servants carry news about theDistrict as fast as telegrams."

  "I hate to think that she takes the liberty of dropping in upon youwhenever she likes. She's not a safe person, so I hope you are carefulof what you tell her."

  "Generally, it is she who does the telling, and I the listening."

  "It won't do you any good, what she has to say!"

  "It won't do me harm. I heard from her today, that you had been bittenby a snake while I was in camp. How too terrible!--oh, Honey, howfrightened you must have been!" In emotional moments, Joyce called herfriend by her family pet-name.

  "I was dreadfully frightened--afterwards," said Honor, shudderingviolently.

  "And you never told me!"

  "I could not write about it," said the girl with a sudden gravity thatennobled her face. "I don't like talking about it; it was a bad shock."

  "Tell me this once, and we shan't speak of it again," Joyce pleaded.

  She thought Honor's a beautiful face, though it had no actual claim tobeauty apart from the brown eyes that were so frank and steadfast, andher regular teeth. The eyes were arresting in their depth of shade andpower of expression, with dark lashes of unusual thickness; but for therest, her complexion was tanned by reckless exposure to the sun, hernose had a saucy tendency, and her mouth, though shapely, was not by anymeans a rosebud; indeed, she had a wide smile which was readily excusedfor the charm of it, and because of her splendid teeth. Soulless menadmired Honor for her eyes, her teeth, and her figure which was trulyclassical; others, for her honesty and directness, and the womanlysympathy which never failed. Tommy Deare was among the latter, and hehad known her for the greater part of his life.

  Asked to talk of the episode of the snake, Honor's expression changedand she was strongly moved.