“I thought you weren’t going to quarrel with me.” Allegra was assuming an ironical tone now.
“Reminding you of plain facts isn’t quarreling with you, Allegra. All I want is to get down to brass tacks and beg you, for your own sake as well as mine, to do the decent thing.”
“My own sake? Is that a threat?” Allegra’s slim, graceful figure stiffened.
“Good Lord, no! Can’t you see, Allegra—” Stella spoke with great earnestness “—that if you try to build your life on a lie, and on the ruins of someone else’s happiness, you’re going to be one of the most miserable creatures on earth?”
“Schoolgirl nonsense!” Allegra’s Cupid’s-bow mouth took on a curve, of contempt. “I suppose you’ve gone all sentimental over Roger and are dying to marry him! Anyone could see from the way you doled yourself up the other night that you were out after his scalp. A bit thick, I call it, after the way you assured me that you weren’t interested in him.”
“So you’re still the same little cad!” Stella’s scorn far outmatched Allegra’s. “You’re not ashamed of wanting to marry Jim. Why should I be ashamed of loving Roger in just the same way?”
For a moment Allegra was silent. Then she said stormily, “I was engaged to Jim months before you ever heard of Roger. Do you suppose I’m going to give him up just because you’ve come butting into my life again?”
“I don’t believe you’d have to give him up.” The note of passionate sincerity had come back to Stella’s voice, displacing all the contempt and anger. “Jim worships the ground you walk on. I feel certain that if you told him the truth and threw yourself on his mercy, it would arouse all the chivalry in him. He’d stick to you through thick and thin.”
Allegra shook her head incredulously. “My dear Star, your knowledge of the world—and of men—is just nil. These Fendish men seem the kindliest, simplest fellows you could wish to meet. But they’ve a puritanical streak in them that’s sheer iron. If you think that either of them would marry a girl who was a self-confessed thief, you’re very wide of the mark.”
“Oh, Allegra, why on earth did you ever steal those wretched trinkets!” The exclamation burst from Stella against her will.
Allegra gave a short laugh and bending forward spoke very quietly. “For precisely the same reasons I got engaged to Jim. I wanted them for themselves, because they appealed to me. And—I was horribly in debt! In each case the second reason was the more urgent one.”
“Good Lord!” Stella gave a low whistle. “Then you’re in a mess now, financially?”
“The devil of a mess! I suppose you envy me because I’ve led a leisured life these last five years. But if you think that keeping up appearances on nothing a year is easy—well, you try it.”
“There was nothing to stop your working.” Stella’s voice held no sympathy.
“Admittedly!” Allegra’s lips set in the obstinate line that Stella so well remembered. “But there was only one career, outside the stage, that appealed to me in the least—and that was marriage.”
“I shouldn’t have thought you would have experienced much difficulty in finding a husband.” Stella’s glance was coolly appraising.
“Oh, there was no dearth of what I believe used to be called offers.” She made a little grimace of disgust. “But the men who made them were either rich and repulsive or as deep in debt as I was myself. Until Jim came on the scene, I hadn’t managed to attract one man I really liked with a decent income.”
Stella frowned. “But the Fendishes aren’t rich!”
“Oh, my ambitions aren’t as lofty as they were a year or two ago. All those Fendish boys have a thousand a year of their own, apart from what they earn, and that’s good enough for me.”
“Personally, I had no idea Roger and Jim had anything beyond their salaries,” Stella said bluntly.
“Maybe I’m a fool to have told you, but there—I know how silly you’ve always been about money. The fact that Roger is better off than you thought won’t make the slightest difference either way.”
“It certainly won’t. And that’s why I think I have a better right to Roger than you have to Jim. If Roger were as poor as a churchmouse, he’d still be the only man in the world for me, whereas if you were to wait a bit you could easily find someone you liked just as well as Jim.”
“My dear Star, I can’t afford to wait! It’s all very well for you to go all romantic over Roger, but if I were to break my engagement to Jim I’d have a horde of creditors after me. I only managed to stave them off by telling them that I was marrying a man in a comfortable position.”
“But what’s Jim going to say when the bills begin to roll in?”
“I won’t let him know anything about them. I shall pay them off by degrees out of the housekeeping money he gives me—and out of my clothes allowance.”
“I never heard of anything so idiotic,” Stella declared energetically. “Why on earth don’t you get this aunt and uncle of yours to help you? They must be comfortably off to be able to make a trip of this sort!”
Allegra threw back her head and laughed—a hard little laugh that held no mirth at all.
“What a hope! They’re only out here because London’s become a bit unhealthy for them. When they’ve seen me safely married to Jim, which will be in a few weeks’ time, they’ll be moving on to the States.”
“Do you mean they’ve done something disgraceful?” Stella’s blue eyes were horrified.
“Nothing worse than run into debt. Only where it’s a case of hundreds with me, with them it’s thousands.” She look a cigarette from a nearby box and lighted it. “Of course it’s largely the fault of the people who give them credit. They like to boast of having Sir Cradwell and Lady Glydd among their clients and encourage them to run up bills. Then when they find there’s no money forthcoming, they cut up rough.”
For a full two minutes Stella did not speak. Then taking a deep breath she said steadily, “Every single thing you’ve told me this afternoon, Allegra, makes me feel that you oughtn’t to be marrying Jim Fendish. I shouldn’t think it right of course, to pass on to Roger anything you’ve told me this afternoon, but I see no reason why I shouldn’t give him my version of that old story.”
“He’d never believe you,” Allegra retorted quickly. “Do you suppose he hasn’t heard of that queer business at Bhindi—when the old rani’s emeralds were actually traced to your locked suitcase?”
“I could explain to him that it was a clumsy plot.”
“And I daresay he’d swallow it—until you pitched the yarn about that earlier frame-up.”
Stella shrugged her shoulders. “If he doesn’t believe me, I don’t see what I’ve got to lose.”
A change came over Allegra’s face then. She went very white and her features hardened so that for the moment she looked years older than her age. “If you do that,” she exclaimed tensely, “I’ll fight you tooth and nail—with the kind of weapons you wouldn’t even begin to understand!”
“And suppose my own weapons—absolute truth and sincerity—were to prove stronger than your lies and slanders and tearful, wide-eyed denials?”
“Oh, God—why can’t you go back to your nursing and leave me in peace?” Allegra was moving restlessly in her chair, like a trapped animal. And then her voice rose on a note of hysteria. “I’ve been trying for years and years to find some sort of security—some chance of leading a peaceful, stable life. And now that my chance has come you suddenly turn up and try to shove me down into the quicksands again. You won’t succeed, but if you do, I swear I’ll ruin you, as well.”
Utterly disgusted now, Stella got up from her chair. “If you’re going on in this fantastic manner. I’m off,” she said curtly.
“You can’t go soon enough to please me!” Allegra, too, stood up. “But I’ve just one more thing to say to you. If you break up my marriage with Jim, I’ll kill myself and leave at letter that will brand you to your dying day. I swear I will.”
Just for a second Stel
la was tempted to make the hard reply, “Then there would be one rotter less in the world.” But her nursing training was too strong; Allegra was obviously working herself into a frenzy and must not be excited any further.
“If you don’t pull yourself together you’ll have Jim and Roger asking you some awkward questions,” she pointed out coolly. “I advise you to take a couple of aspirins and lie down until they come back from their golf.” And with an assumption of calm she was very far from feeling, she walked out of the bungalow and back to the rest house.
CHAPTER TWELVE
She wished fervently as she tidied herself for tea, that she had never sought that interview with Allegra. They had, it was true, got down to brass tacks, and Allegra, by admitting her serious financial difficulties had, to a certain extent, put herself in Stella’s hands. Yet—had she? How could she, Stella, go to Jim and blurt out, “Your precious Allegra’s only marrying you because she’s up to her neck in debt. She’s just told me so!” Allegra might have to own up to her unpaid bills, but she would certainly deny most vehemently that they had any connection with her acceptance of Jim as a husband. The chief result, indeed, would be a mild reproof from Jim to a tearful and apparently penitent Allegra on the folly of running into debt—and a chivalrous determination on his part to put things right for her. As far as Stella was concerned, she would be regarded by everyone who heard the story as a malicious tale bearer in whom Allegra had been most unwise to confide.
No! Allegra had put no weapon into her hand that she could use either with wisdom or honor. It was she herself who had given Allegra an advantage by admitting her love for Roger.
The more she thought about the situation the more despairing did she feel. Without taking Allegra’s threat of suicide very seriously, she knew that if she insisted on bringing that old story into the light of day, and succeeded by this means of frustrating the forthcoming marriage, Allegra would do all in her power to involve Stella and the Fendish brothers in her ruin and disgrace. That had been her line of conduct five years ago, and since then she had become even more selfish and unscrupulous.
It’s nothing but a horrible, sordid tangle, she reflected miserably. And the best way to avoid turning all this misery into utter tragedy is by clearing out of Ghasirabad at the first possible moment.
At teatime she threw out a feeler to, Miss Jellings in this direction, but the old lady merely looked troubled.
“If I felt up to it, I’d arrange to leave for Rajdor within the next day or two,” she said wearily. “But honestly, Stella, I just can’t force myself to the effort. I feel that a long journey would finish me off.”
“I don’t think we should go to Rajdor, certainly.” Stella, looking at her employer, felt suddenly conscience-stricken. “We ought to get to one of the big towns, where you could have proper medical attention.” And she felt ashamed that the necessity of this had not occurred to her before. A nice nurse she was, agitating to move on for her own personal reasons and not troubling about her patient’s welfare! If she had not been so absorbed in her own affairs, she would have taken alarm before this and felt the necessity of getting a doctor’s opinion.
“My dear child, I haven’t the energy for making any sort of journey just yet.” The old woman’s tone was faintly fretful. “I must be allowed to stay here in peace till I feel a bit rested.”
“Then I’d better write to Delhi for some of those drops,” Stella suggested, her heart sinking. “We’ve only a week’s supply, and it will take all of that time to get them sent here.”
Jelly nodded. “Write off this afternoon, my dear.” And then she leaned across the tea table and stroked Stella’s hand. “I’m sorry to be such a useless old hulk, dearie. I know you’re unhappy here, and if I could take you away at once I would. But, you see—” and two large tears coursed down her homely face. “—I just haven’t the strength. That dinner party—I was a fool to make the exertion and go! I enjoyed every minute of it, but I’ve felt a perfect wreck ever since.”
“Oh, Jelly... ” Stella began reproachfully.
But with a sudden change of mood the old woman smiled broadly. “Now tell me, if you like, that you gave me fair warning!”
During the days that followed, Miss Jellings’s condition showed no sign of improvement. Rest as much as she might, there was no trickling back of energy into her tired old body; and Stella’s unrest at being forced to remain in the same town as Roger was gradually lost in her deep anxiety over her friend and patient.
There were many inquiries at the rest house, and though Roger did not appear in person he sent Hussein twice a day to ask after the sick woman.
Stella, while not expecting either Roger or Allegra to call, was a little surprised at Jim’s failure to put in an appearance. The other two had strong motives for wishing to avoid her, but so far as she knew, he was unaware of any difficulties.
She soon learned the reason, however. Hussein, who had entirely dropped his original hostility to her, and who added to his grave courtesy a hint of almost fatherly kindness, told her that the memsahib’s aunt and uncle had returned and that the sahib’s brother had gone to Bombay.
“I suppose he has to get back to his work,” Stella observed casually.
“That is so. And he has also to make preparations for his marriage. The house in which he is at present living is not grand enough to suit the wishes of the memsahib.”
If the old Muslim’s antipathy to Stella had died away, his dislike for Allegra had undergone no such change. It seemed, indeed, as though he hated the girl to the point of wishing her ill; for whenever he spoke of “the memsahib” it was with something approaching a snarl. More than once she had the feeling that he wished to say something of importance to her about Allegra, but with an inborn horror of listening to servants’ gossip, she foiled his attempts; and soon, taking the hint, he contented himself with avoiding all reference to the other girl.
It was about a week after Jelly’s announcement that she intended to remain for the time being in Ghasirabad that some quite unexpected visitors arrived at the rest house. Stella was preparing some malted milk for Miss Jellings when through the French windows she saw three figures riding up the driveway. The next moment there was a general stir, every servant in the place hurrying out to the front of the building and making profound salaams.
“Their Highnesses the Raja Chawand Rao and Prince Prithviraj!” Muhammad Ali, coming into the room, gave the news with an air of suppressed excitement. “They have left the orderlies at the gates, in case the sound of so many horses’ hooves disturbed the memsahib.” And then added in quite a different tone, as though it was a mere afterthought, “Verle Sahib is with them.”
“Show them in at once,” Stella told him, “and bring in some drinks; some sweet cakes, too, for the little prince, if you can find any.”
A moment later Chawand Rao was shown into the room, holding by the hand a small, bright-eyed boy dressed in clothes that were replicas of his father’s sumptuous garments. Behind them, looking rather nervous, was Armand Verle—his gray flannel suit in striking contrast with the gay velvets and silks of the other two.
She shook hands with both men, and then bending down put her arms around the child and kissed him affectionately. Without an instant’s hesitation the boy enthusiastically returned the embrace, then produced from a pouch in his waistband the inevitable packet of betel nut and shyly asked her to take some.
Anxious not to hurt his feelings, Stella helped herself to a fragment, but she was relieved when Chawand Rao said casually, “Perhaps Miss Hantley would like to put it on one side for a while. We want to chat with her, and it is hard to talk while one is chewing pan.”
The raja’s face was so radiant as he looked at her, she felt quite taken aback, but he said quickly in English, as if defining her bewilderment, “If more Englishwomen of your type came to India, how quickly the old antagonisms would die away. I watched you kiss my child—and the action was as spontaneous as though his skin were as w
hite as your own. There was not a second’s shrinking—not a trace of disgust!”
“I should think not!” Recollections of the hints that had been given to her of Chawand Rao’s feelings toward herself made her speak with the impersonal crispness of the well-trained professional nurse. “Prithviraj and I are great friends, and now,” she added, as Muhammad Ali entered with a tray, “I’m going to repay his generosity to me over the pan and offer him some cookies.”
At her invitation they all sat down—Prithviraj evidently intrigued by the novelty of sitting in a European chair—and Chawand Rao explained the purpose of his visit.
“I’ve come first of all to inquire how Miss Jellings is progressing,” he said in that curiously gentle voice of his.
The worried look came back to Stella’s face. “She’s just about the same. There are no particular symptoms. She’s simply suffering from mental and physical exhaustion.”
He nodded gravely. “It must be a great anxiety for you—a heavy responsibility. You should not have to bear it alone.”
“I know I’d give a lot to be able to call in a good doctor,” Stella returned wearily.
“Well, I think I can get hold of one—a Swedish mission doctor whom I’ve known for some years. He was desperately busy when I wanted him to come to Prithviraj—” md his hand strayed tenderly to his child’s shoulder—but the epidemic he was fighting is over now, and if I sent a car for him I’m pretty sure he’d come—just for a flying visit, anyway!”
“It’s extremely kind of you!” There was relief in Stella’s blue eyes. “But surely if you gave me his name and address I could send for him myself. Miss Jellings isn’t a rich woman, but there’s money enough for that, I’m certain.”
“I should like to arrange it all for you,” Chawand Rao told her eagerly. “I can never repay the debt of gratitude I owe not only to you, but to Miss Jellings, for letting you come to us. Please let me do what I can.”
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