Danger at Dahlkari (10 page)

“You still have it, Dollie,” I assured her.

“Oh, dear, do you really think so? I worry, you see. Being the wife of the commanding officer is
such
a responsibility, and I'm afraid I'm not
serious
enough. I should be haughty and imperious and make everyone kowtow to me—that's the way it's
done
, you see—but I'd much rather gossip and have a good time.”

“I'm sure everyone adores you.”

“They think I'm a foolish, flighty creature without an ounce of sense, but I must say I keep things
or
ganized. Social life is always in danger of deterioration out here—it's not easy being so far away from home, even in a comfortable garrison like this. A number of the army wives tend to lose their perspective—it's hard on their nerves, you see, particularly the younger ones. Some of them fall apart, have to be shipped home. Some of them take to drink, and some—well, some amuse themselves with men who are not their husbands. I could tell you
tales
, dear. Such a responsibility,” she repeated. “I try to keep things jolly, keep the petty feuds and rivalries at a minimum. One must try to be a credit to Queen and Country.”

Dollie peeled off the soiled gloves and removed her straw hat, reaching up to pat the foolish ringlets that framed either side of her face. She led me over to a white table under the shade of one of the trees, matching chairs around it. “Let's sit and chat for a while, dear. I told Blossom to bring out some iced lemonade—oh, here she comes!”

Dollie plopped down in one of the chairs, and I sat facing her. The timid Indian girl in the apricot sari moved gracefully across the grass bearing a silver tray with two glasses and a frosted pitcher of lemonade, ice tinkling. She set the tray down, made a lovely half bow and moved back toward the veranda with the poise of a young fawn.

“She's a treasure,” Dollie confided. “Just fourteen years old, a local girl. Her brothers and sisters come to help out when we have parties. Charming children, efficient, too.”

“Speaking of servants, I think I somehow upset your cook. She glared at me as I came out.”

“Olana? That woman! She's a gem, a real gem, but so temperamental! You'd think she ran the entire household. She's put out because there are two more people to cook for. She'll calm down. Been with us for years, ever since Bombay. So has Kulloo. He's not temperamental, but I fear he's a dreadful snob,
very
conscious of Reggie's position. Here, let me pour this lemonade. You have no idea how difficult it is to get
ice
.”

“I wonder where Sally is,” I remarked. “I looked into her room before I came down, but she wasn't there.”

“
That
one!” Dollie exclaimed. “She was up bright and early, bustling about like a young colt! Chattered all through breakfast—ate enough for three people. I've never seen Reggie take to anyone so quickly. Teased her dreadfully, and she came right back—such cheek! She said she was interested in meeting some of the
men
, and I'll be bound if Reggie didn't take her off to headquarters with him.”

“That's Sally,” I said.

“I'm sure I don't know what to
make
of her, Lauren. I've rarely encountered a lass more engaging, but this interest in
men
.” Dollie shook her head, her large brown eyes bewildered. “Of course, there are plenty of them
about
.”

“Sally came along as my maid, Dollie, but—actually she's more friend than maid. I—I couldn't have done without her.”

“I understand perfectly, dear, and she'll be treated as an equal in
this
household, never you fear. I rather imagine, though, we'll have to find her a husband rather
quickly
.”

“I don't fancy she'll need much help. If I know Sally she already has half a dozen swains trailing after her, eating out of her hand.”

Dollie looked rather alarmed, and then she smiled, obviously delighted by the girl but feeling she must show at least a token disapproval. Taking a sip of lemonade, she set her glass down and sighed. “If you only knew how lovely it is to have you girls here. It's going to be such fun! Things have been dull, dull, dull of late what with all these futile expeditions against the Thugs.”

Dollie looked up at me, alarmed, afraid she'd said something wrong. I gave her a reassuring smile and reached across to squeeze her hand.

“It happened,” I said. “There's no use trying to pretend it didn't. We—we survived, and it's over now. I—I'll never be able to forget the things I saw, but—I'm made of pretty strong stuff, Dollie. I'm not one of your wilting Victorian maidens. You needn't be afraid to mention Thugs around me. I imagine I shall be hearing quite a lot about them.”

“You're a brave, brave girl.”

“I'm sensible,” I said quietly. “Swooning and having hysterics aren't going to erase anything that happened. I—I'm not unfeeling, please don't think that. I just know I have to—to go on in spite of it.”

“Of course you do, dear. These dreadful Thugs—” Dollie stared across the garden, not really seeing it, her bright red mouth a tight line. She finally turned back to me with serious brown eyes.

“This is their last stronghold, you see. The secret society of Thuggee was thriving all over India. It's been pretty well broken up everywhere else—Captain Sleeman and his men have done such a tremendous job of bringing those awful assassins to justice—but it's still thriving in this area. No one's been able to break their cover. Someone very powerful is behind them—some say it might even be a white man who's in league with them and helping to provide cover for a share of the spoils. Poor Reggie has done all he could, but he's had no luck. That's why they sent that terrible Robert Gordon out here.”

“Gordon? I think Reggie mentioned him last night.”

Dollie puffed up like an angry robin, eyes snapping.

“That man's a thorn in all our sides!” she exclaimed. “So arrogant and aloof, so independent! He's on Sleeman's staff, and he's sent out here with special papers giving him full authority to handle the Thuggee situation. He doesn't have to take orders from anyone, is free to do exactly as he pleases! He disappears for long periods of time, Gordon does, and heaven only knows what he's up to while he's away. Secret missions, ‘undercover work,' he calls it. He doesn't confide in anyone, not even
Reg
gie. It's scandalous!”

“It does seem a bit unusual,” I agreed.

“He has rooms here at the barracks, naturally, rooms filled with books and papers and outrageous native statues and a whole jumble of bizarre objects. When he's not skulking around the countryside in disguise he's making secret reports to Sleeman and telling him God knows what about us all!” Dolly paused, visibly fuming. “I never could abide spies!”

“Sleeman must have a great deal of confidence in him.”

“Oh, Gordon's
brilliant
, I'll have to hand him that. He speaks over ten languages and any number of dialects. The man's not yet thirty, and he's already had a number of books published—quite shocking anthropological studies about native tribes and some of their—well, more un
civ
ilized practices. He's done translations, too.” Dollie lowered her voice. “Ancient marriage manuals,” she said, “and even worse—the kind of books no Godfearing Englishman would allow in his home.”

“How very unusual,” I remarked.

“He simply doesn't Fit In,” she continued, verbally capitalizing the last two words. “I suppose you'd have to say the man is fascinating—I've never encountered anyone quite like him—but, all the same, he gives me the shivers. That savage face, those
eyes
. Some women find that sort of thing attractive, of course. A number of the younger wives tried to shine up to him when he first arrived. Gordon wouldn't give them the time of day and didn't even try to hide how boring he found them. He doesn't have time for
women
, I can tell you that much!”

Despite Dollie's vehement tirade against him, I thought Robert Gordon sounded like a rather romantic figure—unconventional, independent, going his own way against established patterns. A bit bizarre, perhaps, but his own man. Dollie was obviously rankled because Gordon had supplanted some of Reggie's authority, and it was only natural she should resent him. I finished my lemonade and tinkled the ice idly against the side of the glass, wondering about the enigmatic Mr. Gordon. What sort of man would translate erotic Oriental classics and write studies of native tribes, disdain the attention of English ladies and disappear for long periods at a time on secret military missions? Certainly not the sort who would fit into the stuffy, ultraconventional English military establishment.

A myna bird cried out suddenly, and a flock of tiny green parakeets scattered in the air and settled in the boughs of one of the banyan trees. It was so serene here, so peaceful with the untidy flowerbeds filled with carefully nourished English flowers, the large, sprawling house with its cool, shadowy verandah so very reassuring. Time seemed to melt away, and I saw another garden as cozy as this, another large house, this one with a screened-in porch, and I saw a little girl in black pumps and white silk stockings and a starched pink dress, her long brown curls bouncing as she played on the lawn under the supervision of her ayah, a serene native woman in blue and silver sari. A beautiful, vivacious woman in lilac stepped outside, followed by a tall, stalwart man in full uniform. The little girl raced over to them, laughing merrily, her arms raised, and the man scooped her up into his arms and held her tightly and the woman put her arms around them both, and for a moment the three of them were entwined, the child safe and secure between two beloved bodies. The image seemed to melt away, the colors blurring, and I saw the same little girl at twelve, wide-eyed, face pale and tearstained, both those beautiful, vital loved ones gone, taken from her by the dreaded cholera.

“I know, dear,” Dollie said.

“I—I'm sorry. I was …”

“I know. You were thinking about your parents. I could tell. It still hurts, doesn't it, dear? After all these years …”

“I think of them often. Being back here like this—” I paused. “It seems to bring them closer.”

“It's what your parents would have wanted,” Dollie said quietly. “They would have wanted you to be with your Own Kind in the country they loved so well. You'll meet some fine upstanding English officer here in India and do your part for the empire, just as they expected.”

“I don't know about that part. I'm really not interested in—”

“But of course you are!” Dollie protested. “You're young and you're female and you've come to a veritable treasure trove of eligible men. It's going to be ever so exciting! All those dreary years at school surrounded by books and chalk dust and ink-stained desks are behind you, and now it's time to enjoy yourself. How I envy you! I'm ever so eager to get
started
. We're going to have a dance at the mess hall, I've already arranged it, and the rajah is going to have a party in your honor and—”

Dollie chattered merrily, telling me about all the plans she had made to launch me, and I listened with a half smile, trying to feel some of her enthusiasm. I knew myself, and I knew I could never be the bright, carefree social butterfly playing one man against the other as I searched for just the right husband, but, for Dollie's sake, I would try to enjoy all the parties and fetes she had been anticipating ever since I had agreed to come to Dahlkari. She and the other army wives needed them far more than I did. I fully realized that.

“And speaking of
men
,” she continued brightly, “Michael came by to inquire about you this morning. You were asleep, of course, but I told him you were eager to thank him for all he had done.”

“Michael? You mean Lieutenant Stephens?”

“He was disappointed at not being able to see you. He was getting ready to leave, you see, taking a group of men to try and track down those horrible Thugs who attacked your caravan. Reggie wanted to send another officer, but Michael made a special request to go himself.”

“He seems—very efficient.”

“Oh, he's
that
, all right. A superb officer, one of the best. He's quite the prize catch of the garrison, you know. Michael's a bit formal, a bit too reserved, but don't let that fool you. Some of the discontented wives have literally
thrown
themselves at him, shamelessly, and Michael—well, he's a man, and when women.…” She hesitated.

“I think I know what you're trying to say,” I said dryly.

“Take Valerie Simpson, for example—she and her husband came to Dahlkari three months ago, and she's been making a spectacle of herself over Michael since they arrived. Strikingly attractive woman, exceedingly neurotic—her husband's a sergeant-major, dull as ditch water. Valerie took an overdose of laudanum only two weeks ago. She claimed it was an
ac
cident, of course, but rumor has it Michael turned her out.”

“I—I'm really not interested in Lieutenant Stephens, Dollie.”

“No?” She arched a brow in disbelief. “Well, dear, he's certainly interested in
you
. I could tell by his manner when he came by this morning. Quite concerned, he was, and quite disappointed you weren't up, even though he tried to hide it. Michael Stephens is the most handsome male I've ever seen, no doubt about it. And you're not interested? Well, dear, we'll just have to wait and
see
.…”

Five

The dress was undeniably becoming, but I wondered if it might not be just a bit too sophisticated for the occasion. Pale, creamy white satin, it had off-the-shoulder sleeves, a rather low-cut neckline and formfitting bodice, the full skirt cascading in gleaming folds over bouffant petticoats. It was the kind of gown a rather worldly countess might wear, I thought, admiring myself in the mirror, but was it suitable for a dance in the mess hall of a military outpost in India? I really didn't care, pleased that it made me look older. My hair was worn pulled severely back from my face with three long ringlets dangling in back, the cluster of tiny pink velvet roses fastened over my left temple my only ornament.