Cannes was fast becoming a place where it was fashionable for the wealthy British to buy a piece of land and build a villa. Then when the English winter became too chill they could travel to their ‘winter resort’ on the Mediterranean coast.
“Do you know,” Lloyd pointed out the villas to her as they drove by in a hired carriage. “ Do you know that they even have turf shipped from England – renewed every year if they need it. Can you imagine a fellow bein’ rich enough to be able to do that?”
Carrie looked at the magnificent villas, white and shining in the sun, surrounded by groves of orange and lemon trees. “ No,” she said soberly, “I cannot imagine it!”
Lloyd laughed and put his arm about her slim waist. “Ah, me darlin’, we’ll be rich one day. You’ll have everything you ever dreamed of!”
Carrie glanced down at the green silk crinoline she wore, at the fine gloves, at her feet encased in satin slippers. Already she owned more than she had ever thought possible. But how swiftly she would abandon it all to be back in her coarse skirt and bare feet, to be back in the abbey ruins in Jamie’s arms. That was all she had dreamed of!
Lloyd rented a villa and they stayed in Cannes. Almost against her will, Carrie grew to love the pretty town nestling in a bay, the beautiful blue sea, the mountains. She blossomed in the warmth of the sun and in the clear air. Her thinness was gone, the pale, half-starved look. Her skin glowed with health and she matured from a young, passionate – yet undernourished – girl into a beautiful woman, serene yet somehow remote. Always, deep in her violet eyes there was a sadness.
“You know what dey’ll be wantin’ here, all these wealthy Englishmen, is a railway – a passenger railway from Paris to the south coast,” Lloyd said standing on the balcony of the villa overlooking the blue sea. He glanced back into the bedroom where Carrie was lying on the bed, fanning her face vigorously. It was the first time the word ‘railway’ had been mentioned between them.
“Really,” Carrie’s tone was non-committal, bored almost, as she flapped at an intruding mosquito.
“There’s only about four hundred miles of railway in the whole of France,” he was saying, suppressed excitement in his voice. “And that’s mainly for the carrying of coal.”
“Really,” Carrie said again and closed her eyes, not noticing the expression on Lloyd’s face as he looked at her and sighed and then went back to gazing out to sea.
This life of high-living was all very well, he was thinking, but I’m beginning to miss me railways. He couldn’t push the matter too far – not yet. He must give Carrie time to forget. But, some day, somehow, somewhere, he knew he must once again build a railway.
It was in his blood!
As the months stretched into years Lloyd Foster grew increasingly restless. Between himself and Carrie the uneasy truce remained. She was his wife in every sense now and yet always there was a shadow between them, the shadow of her love for another man and of Abbeyford and all its memories.
“We’ll have to go back to Paris,” Lloyd told her. “That’s the centre of things. We’ve been here in Cannes three years and I’m missing what’s happening. Louis Philippe passed an Act in 1842 for the construction of a great network of trunk routes from Paris over the whole of France. I could be part of all that. Damn it – I want to be part of it!”
So back they went to Paris. Unfortunately for Lloyd, things did not work out as he wanted. For another two years he tried to find employment as a railway builder, but once again there was confusion in Paris and although a network of railways had been approved in theory, the actual construction was a different matter. Economic difficulties in France and the air of unrest, which at any moment might erupt into revolution yet again, made investors wary and the capital required for the railways was not forthcoming.
“Damn it all!” Lloyd burst out, striding up and down the hotel bedroom whilst Carrie sat at the dressing-table, arranging her hair in readiness for a ball they were to attend. “There’s nothing here for me. The whole city is in a turmoil! They’re never at peace, these people! Now, they’re wanting to be rid of Louis Philippe!” He paused a moment and then said, “They’re so wrapped up in their political intrigues, there’s going to be no progress for the next year or so. There’s no railways for me to build here! We’ll have to look elsewhere. I must find work!” And he punched one clenched fist into the palm of his other hand.
Carrie stopped brushing her hair, her brush suspended in mid-air, and turned to look at him, suddenly interested. “You mean you’ve come to the end of your ‘ fortune’?”
Lloyd’s laughter filled the room. “ Me darlin’, there never was a ‘fortune’. How do you think I’ve made us a livin’ these past five years, eh?”
Carrie shrugged. “I thought it was the money you’d made building railways in England. You always seemed a wealthy man.”
Again he laughed. “Ah, me darlin’, there’s still much you don’t know about me. Where do you think I spend me nights when I’m not beside you?”
“I neither know nor care.”
The pain was fleetingly in his eyes, then he said. “ For your information, madam, the money which buys you all these fine fripperies,” his fingers touched the lace on her white shoulder, “comes from gambling.”
She swivelled round quickly on the stool to stare at him in amazement. “Gambling?”
“Aye, whilst you’re sleepin’, I’ve been playing at card-tables here and in Cannes, earning us a livin’.”
“Well!” Carrie was speechless. “ Well!” was all she could say again.
“But I’m tired of it now. I’ve had enough of the high livin’, the drinkin’ and gamblin’. I want to get back to railways.”
Carrie’s lips parted and her eyes shone. “If there’s nothing here, then – then – we’re going home? Back to England?”
Lloyd’s eyes darkened with anger, his mouth became hard. “ No, I don’t mean dat at all,” he said harshly, her joyful anticipation bringing back all the antagonism between them. “We’re never going back to England, d’ye hear me?”
As the look of hope died in her eyes now, Lloyd’s tone softened a little. “I’ve met this man, a captain in the British Army in India. Stationed at Calcutta, he is. He’s been on furlough – enjoying himself in Paris,” he grinned. “ Well – he tells me they’re planning to build a railway from Calcutta. There’s a lot of wrangling goin’ on, so it seems, but I’ve got used to that this past two years in Paris. He reckons if I was to get out there, maybe have a look at terrain, I could persuade the powers that be to hurry things along a little, y’know. Captain Richmond’ll be at the ball tonight. Now, ye’ll be nice to him, won’t you, for my sake?”
Carrie turned back to the mirror and resumed brushing her hair with sharp, angry strokes. “ India! That’s the other side of the world. I don’t want to go. I won’t go!”
“Well, me darlin’, we’re going!”
“This is Captain Richmond,” Lloyd introduced a gentleman in military uniform to Carrie.
“I’m happy to make your acquaintance, ma’am.” The Captain took her hand in his, bent over it with a show of gallantry and raised it to his lips. As he lifted his head, his eyes looked into her face with bold audacity.
“Captain,” she murmured.
He was undeniably handsome. Tall and slim, with fair hair, bright blue eyes and a small, neat moustache. He was indeed resplendent in his scarlet coat, with its white sash across the chest, the gold braiding and shining gold buttons. He was elegant and his whole manner and bearing exuded confidence – the kind of self-assurance that only comes from having been born into a wealthy family, of accepting the place in life as a leader of men as one’s natural right.
“May I have the pleasure of this next dance, ma’am?” Carrie inclined her head and she moved gracefully on to the dance floor on his arm.
“You dance exquisitely, Mrs Foster.”
She smiled at his compliment. How his face would alter, she thought mischievously, if
he knew my background and my upbringing.
“I was fortunate enough to learn to dance here, in Paris,” she told him.
“Ah, then that explains it.”
They danced for a short time in silence, then the Captain said, “Your husband is a delightful fellow. Unique, one might say. I’ve played cards with him several times and don’t he have the devil’s own luck …?” He paused as the steps of the dance took them apart. “He never seems to lose!”
“Really,” Carrie said with an air of complete uninterest.
“But, then,” the Captain smiled, his blue eyes intent upon her, “perhaps it’s the charm of all his Irish blarney. Is that how he came to capture such a prize as yourself, ma’am?
The smile died on Carrie’s lips, her violet eyes were dark with sudden misery and her steps faltered in the dance, causing her to miss a sequence. His question had evoked unhappy memories. The Captain seemed faintly amused. “Forgive my audacity, ma’am, but amongst these fair, milk-white maidens your dark beauty is so striking. Your eyes are like the spring violets …”
“Pray, sir, your compliments are extreme!” Carrie, once more in control of her emotions, smiled.
His eyes were upon her face, his smooth voice low and intense. “Indeed they are not, ma’am, I assure you!”
The dance ended and he led her back to where Lloyd Foster waited.
Captain Richmond was the epitome of politeness, yet in his eyes there was danger when his gaze rested on Carrie. If it were not for the protective presence of the huge figure of her husband, Carrie thought, I should have need to fear this man. She put her arm through Lloyd’s and smiled up at Captain Richmond, believing herself secure in the thought that a man of such good breeding would not encroach upon another man’s preserves.
“Have you decided, Foster?” Captain Richmond addressed her husband but his gaze never strayed from Carrie for long.
“Well, now, I’m thinking I’ve nothing to lose by comin’ out to India. Me only concern is for me lovely wife here. Will it be possible to find a comfortable place for her, d’ya think? Havin’ never been to India, I just don’t know what to expect. D’you understand me now?”
“Indeed I do,” the Captain smiled. “There are many European inhabitants in Calcutta, wealthy merchants and the like. We should have no trouble in finding suitable accommodation for your good lady,” he gave a slight bow in Carrie’s direction and added, almost as an afterthought, “and for yourself.”
At that moment another gentleman requested Carrie to dance and she left her husband and the Captain eagerly planning the proposed trip to India. Carrie sighed inwardly. Lloyd had become animated at the thought of being once more involved with the building of a railway. After all the disappointments he had met here in Paris these last two years, now his hopes were rekindled.
She guessed his self-imposed exile from the work he so obviously loved had been entirely on her account. He had wanted to remove her from the environment of railway building that would always remind her of Abbeyford – and of Jamie! But now, after five years of living off his wits and his dexterity at cards, the man hungered for useful, constructive work once more.
The dance ended and as the young dandy led her back across the floor to her husband and she saw his eyes seek out her face, for the first time since her marriage she felt a flash of genuine fondness for him.
If only, she thought half-regretfully, I had not already given my heart so irrevocably to another, maybe I could have found real happiness with Lloyd Foster.
The ship was moving, under the direction of the Pilot, the last forty or so miles through the Ganges delta towards Calcutta on the east bank of the river Hooghly. Carrie stood on deck between her husband and Captain Richmond. The three months which this voyage had taken, throwing the three of them into close proximity, had rendered a subtle change in the relationship between them. Carrie had, with each day that passed, come to fear Captain Richmond a little more, and in so doing had drawn closer to Lloyd for security. Her husband had seen nothing amiss and the Captain was careful not to let him see the lust which flashed in his eyes when he looked at Carrie, but she had seen it! Lloyd did not feel the underlying challenge in Jeremy Richmond’s mocking tone. He accepted the Captain as a man who would introduce him to the right people in India, on whom his future depended. So Carrie remained silent.
“Will yer look at dose swamps?” Lloyd was saying. Carrie saw the treacherous swamps, with palms and mangroves and sticky mud. Birds rose from the trees and they could hear the sounds of the undergrowth. She shuddered. “I don’t like it,” she murmured. “It’s so hot and – eerie!”
“Not many dare to venture in there, Mrs Foster,” Captain Richmond glanced down at her. “ There’s all manner of snakes, tigers, monkeys – to say nothing of the crocodiles!”
Carrie glanced down over the side of the boat, as if fearful of seeing one of the monsters sliding by. She looked up again towards the bank, and then cried out in surprise. “Why, there’s a village. I thought you said the place was uninhabited?”
“That’s a native village, ma’am.” His tone was condescending and Carrie pursed her lips.
“They’re people, none the less,” she replied sharply.
“A little farther on you will see a clearing where a European indigo planter has his bungalow and factory, and later still an area called Garden Reach, where rich European merchants and officials have their homes. It’s quite the ‘little England’,” Captain Richmond added, his tone heavy with sarcasm.
Eventually, Carrie saw the place he mentioned – houses with verandahs and flower-beds and trees. She could see children running on the well-kept lawns with their ayahs – their Indian nursemaids. There were even one or two pet dogs barking playfully.
Then as they rounded the final curve Carrie’s attention was caught by the busy harbour. It seemed crammed with boats of all descriptions – barges, fishing-boats, clippers, and all manner of small boats. Set high above were the ramparts of Fort William.
“Will that be where you are stationed, Captain?” Lloyd asked.
“It is indeed, sir,” was the reply.
Carrie saw that amongst the Indian coolies on the dock side, amidst the bustle of bullock carts, camel carts and barrows, stood a few British or European people, men in top hats and women in fine crinolines. There were even a few British landaus pulled by shining horses. Behind the teeming dockside, rose a skyline of magnificent towers and domes.
After they had left the ship, Captain Richmond found lodgings for them in the Garden Reach district.
“This house belongs to – er – a friend of mine. He is away at present, but I know he would not mind you having the use of it.”
“We are most grateful to you, Captain, to be sure,” Lloyd laughed and slapped his new-found friend upon the shoulder, but the Captain’s gaze was upon Carrie as if it were her gratitude alone he sought.
“Pray make yourselves comfortable,” he said, bowing, his insolent gaze never leaving her face. “ There are servants to do your bidding. I must report to Fort William, but I shall return tomorrow to see that you have all you need.”
Carrie inclined her head, but she could not bring herself to enthuse over the Captain’s seeming kindness. She felt instinctively that one day, somehow, he would demand repayment.
Her husband made up for Carrie’s lack of gratitude. “ I don’t know what we should have done without the Captain, me darlin’, in this strange land.”
“But for the Captain, we should not be in this strange land!” Carrie retorted sharply and flounced out of the room.
That night Carrie lay in a huge bed under a mosquito curtain. England seemed so very far away now. She had had no word from her family since her marriage. Nor had she had any news of Jamie. Was he still in Abbeyford? Was he married, with children? Though her homeland and family were far removed, Jamie’s face was still vivid in her recollection. His face was before her, tender, loving, and then finally filled with the desperate misery o
f their final parting.
Lloyd Foster lay a few feet from her in his own bed, flapping occasionally at a stray mosquito which had found its way in, but Carrie’s thoughts were many hundreds of miles away. They had left England in the early spring – now it would be high summer there. She fell asleep dreaming of that wonderful summer when she had fallen in love …
Chapter Six
For the next few months Lloyd Foster seemed rejuvenated. He would return to the house bursting with news, his enthusiasm spilling over. “Ah, Carrie me darlin’, such opportunities here. Such visions. Oh, ’tis hard work there’s ahead of us, to be sure. There’s so much that’s new.”
“New? How?” Carrie asked, attempting to show interest though she found her days dull. Now that she had a houseful of barefoot servants, silently padding about their tasks, she found the days empty.
“ ’Tis different to railway building in England. The climate is so different, the heat, the rains, to say nothing of the river changing its course before we get the bridges built!” He laughed. “And you should see the length they’ll have to be.” He spread his arms wide. “The rivers swell so, that the bridges have to be much, much longer than in England.”
England! Carrie felt a great yearning sweep over her. But it was no use. Her husband was happy now he was once more going to build a railway – so here she must stay!
The months passed and Carrie found her days filled only with the social life of the European wives resident in Calcutta – tea-parties and afternoon visits; dinner-parties and balls.
There were delays with the actual beginning of the railway construction – and Lloyd began to chafe.
“I t’ought they was all ready to begin building and what do I find now?” He flung his arms wide in a gesture of despair. “I find there’s two, if not three, different companies going to build different parts of the railway.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “ There’s the Great India Peninsula Railway going to be built from Bombay; the East India Railway from Calcutta, to say nothing of a third company – the Madras Railway.”
Abbeyford Remembered Page 9