Shadow of the Moon (42 page)

‘I'm sorry, but you are going to hear me out. I told you once before that Barton was not a fit person for you to have anything to do with, let alone marry. I meant it. A libertine and a drunkard is hardly a suitable husband for such a woman as yourself - or for any woman, for that matter. He would not come to England to marry you because he must have been well aware that should he do so, one look at what he had become would have been enough to ensure that the engagement was broken. I do not know why he did not meet you in Calcutta. Probably for the same reason. I do know, however, that the after-effects of a debauch, if nothing else, prevented him from leaving for Delhi. He was incapable of standing upright when I left him.'

He let her go, but Winter did not move. She stood quite still, her eyes wide and frightened, and once again Alex was conscious of that bewildering pain in his heart. He said harshly: ‘Well, now that you know the truth, I can only suggest that you return to Calcutta and sail for England as soon as there is a passage available.'

She did not answer him, and the moment seemed to stretch out interminably. A mongoose ran along the parapet, keeping to the shadows, and checked by the sight of the two motionless humans, fluffed out its tail and whisked away with a little chattering cry of rage. But neither of them moved or spoke, and in the moonlit silence the words of a tender, plaintive melody that drifted down the long length of the ramparts, sung by a dozen voices and blurred and sweetened by distance, filled the night with a strange, nostalgic magic—

Winter saw Alex's set mouth soften and twitch, and she spoke in a whisper: ‘No! Oh no … I don't believe it. Alex—'

She stretched out a groping hand in a gesture that begged for reassurance, and as it touched him something as vivid and as elemental as a flicker of lightning seemed to shiver between them. The next instant his arm was about her and he was holding her hard and close. For a brief moment she resisted him violently, her body taut with shock. Then his mouth came down on hers, and all at once the rigidity and resistance left her and the ground was no longer solid under her feet …

Her skin smelt faintly of lavender and her body was soft and sweet and fragrant in his embrace; as soft and sweet and fragrant as her lips and her closed eyelids and her shining hair. Alex's mouth was not hot and greedy as Carlyon's had been. His lips were cool and firm and his slow-moving kisses were a warm, drugging wonder that deprived her of all power of thought or movement and narrowed the night and the moonlight, the wide world and the wider sky, down to nothing more than the close circle of his arm.

She felt him free his left arm from the sling, and then his fingers were on the nape of her neck, pressing upwards slowly and caressingly through the thick soft waves of hair; fondling the curve of her head and holding it as closely and possessively as his right arm held her body. His mouth moved from hers at last, and his cheek was cool and harsh against her smooth warm one:

‘
Darling … darling
…' His voice was no more than a breathed caress, but at the sound of it the passionate spell broke and dissolved before the cold inrush of reality. Winter tore herself free and backed away from him, shaking with rage and shame and the shock of a sudden revelation:

‘So
that's
why you hate him …!'

Her voice was low and breathless and edged with scorn: ‘You're jealous of Conway, and so you made it all up! You haven't even enough honour and - and decency to prevent you making love to his future wife.
You
! - you and Carlyon! Mr Carroll
did
tell me the truth. Why should he lie to me? Conway is ill - and because you are jealous of him you do your best to blacken him to me so that you can make love to me behind his back. I hope - I hope I never have to see you again!'

Her voice broke on a sob, and then she had whirled about and had run from him, and he heard the sound of her flying feet die out along the wall and lose itself in the sound of the distant singing.

Alex made no attempt to follow her. He stood where she had left him, staring into nothingness. Presently he lifted an uncertain hand and rubbed it dazedly across his forehead, and sitting down slowly in the embrasure, felt mechanically in his pockets for tobacco and matches. He rolled a cigarette with careful concentration and struck a match against the worn stonework. It
lit with a hiss and crackle of sulphur, and the vivid flare of the small yellow flame momentarily dimmed the brightness of the moonlight.

The singing ceased and the night was silent once more. Alex appeared to have forgotten about the match, for it burnt out between his fingers. He dropped it with a quick grimace of pain, and removing the cigarette from his mouth, flicked it away into the shadows.

‘
Hell
!' said Alex aloud and softly, addressing the moonlight, the ancient city of Delhi, and all India.

23

Lord Carlyon's plans were at last reaching some sort of shape, and in pursuance of the policy of lulling Winter's fears he had studiously avoided her and had devoted himself instead to entertaining Delia Gardener-Smith.

He had seated himself as far away from Winter as possible, but this had not prevented him from observing that Randall had held her in conversation for the greater part of the meal, or that they appeared to be on remarkably easy terms with one another. He had tried not to watch them, but he could not keep himself from doing so, and the unusual animation on Randall's face and the interest on Winter's had infuriated and alarmed him. Thank heaven Randall would shortly be leaving Delhi, and that he himself would before long be shaking the dust of this deadly place off his shoes! Only a few more days - he could not stand it much longer.

Carlyon looked across the laden cloth at Winter, trying to observe her dispassionately and decide what it was about her that had become such a fever in his blood. He had known many beautiful women: women far lovelier than this slender young creature whose wide-set eyes were full of a sweet unsureness that gave the lie to the full-lipped, passionate mouth.

Perhaps it was that - the youth and unsureness and the unawakened passion - that attracted him? To a palate jaded by experience, inexperience alone had a charm that was strangely and sharply new. He had been a fool. He, with all his knowledge of women, had handled this unsophisticated girl as though she had been some opera dancer to be seduced for the price of a trinket. Did she know that she was disturbing and desirable? … What had Randall been saying to her?

He had met Alex's reflective gaze and for a long moment he had stared at him, his throat tight with rage. And later that evening, when the singing had begun, he had not failed to mark that neither Winter nor Randall was present, and judging from the direction of Sophie's anxious gaze he had little doubt as to where they were.

He had endured it as long as he could, but as the minutes slipped by and they did not return, his jealous rage had increased until it had suddenly become past bearing, and he had risen and walked quickly away in the direction of the Water Bastion. Half-way down the stretch of wall the shadow of a huge
neem
tree lay across his path, and as he reached it he heard a sound of running footsteps and someone ran into him and would have fallen but for his arms.

‘Oh, it's you—' Winter's voice was breathless and sobbing and she had
forgotten that she disliked this man. She had forgotten everything but the fact that Alex had betrayed her - lied to her - shamed her. ‘Take me home. Please take me home. I cannot stay here.'

Carlyon drew her out of the shadows and into the bright moonlight, and looking down at her distorted face saw that it was wet with tears. He said furiously: ‘What has he done to you? My dear - don't! I'll go back and break his damned neck for you!'

‘No - no, please don't.' Winter's fingers clung to his arm. ‘I want to go back to the bungalow. Please take me back.'

‘Of course.' He took her hand and drew it through his arm and turned back towards the group near the Kashmir Gate, but they had not taken more than a dozen steps when he stopped: ‘We shall have to pass through all those people. There is no other way down. You will not like them to see you like this. May I—?'

He proffered a clean handkerchief and Winter accepted it gratefully. Presently she said in a more rational voice: ‘You are very kind.'

‘No, I am not.' There was an unexpected bitterness and sincerity in his voice and Winter looked up, startled. Carlyon recovered himself swiftly: ‘I told you, did I not, that if I could serve you in any way it would give me great happiness to do so? I meant it, you know.'

‘I - I know.'

Did she know? Had she been wrong about Lord Carlyon? She had been wrong about Alex. If she could be wrong about Alex—

Quite suddenly she found herself telling him everything. Conway's illness. Captain Randall's perfidy, her own fears and doubts when Conway had failed to come to Delhi: ‘I could not understand it. I thought that he could surely have left the work to Alex - Captain Randall - just for a few days. Just to fetch me. But now that I know, I must go to him at once; I cannot wait another week in Delhi! I could help nurse him - I would not mind a sickroom. He might have another relapse and I not there. If he is ill he needs me. Will you - would you help me to go to him?'

Carlyon looked down into the wide, appealing eyes and saw that she was shivering violently. He knew nothing of this man that the young Condesa was to marry, but what he had seen of Captain Randall led him to suppose that the Captain's revelations concerning his chief were probably correct. Randall did not give him the impression of a man given to that particular form of lying. On the other hand Randall appeared to have made - or attempted to make - advances to his superior officer's future wife, and Carlyon found himself torn between an entirely primitive rage that he should have dared to touch her, and satisfaction in that by doing so he had played his, Carlyon's, game for him by presenting him with an opportunity that appeared to be little less than a gift from the gods.

‘I will take you to Lunjore myself,' said Carlyon. ‘You cannot go unescorted.'

Winter drew a quick breath, her hands clasping and unclasping against her grey habit. ‘Would you? Would you really?'

‘Of course. It is a piece of the greatest good luck that I purchased that carriage. You and your serving-woman can travel in it and I will ride. There is only one thing—' He paused, frowning, and Winter said anxiously: ‘What is it?'

‘Well, I do not know,' Carlyon spoke doubtfully, ‘but I think perhaps it would be as well if you did not mention this matter to the Abuthnots.' He saw that he had startled her and said quickly: ‘I am sure that they would sympathize with your intentions, but they would be obliged to prevent you from going until you could do so under the charge of Mrs Gardener-Smith. They would not consider it at all suitable for you to travel either alone or in my care, and I do not imagine that Mrs Gardener-Smith could be prevailed upon to put forward the date of her departure.'

‘No,' said Winter slowly. ‘No, she would not. And you are right about the Abuthnots. But I will not wait. I will not! I - I am my own mistress. No one can stop me.'

‘They will try,' said Carlyon drily.

‘Yes, I suppose so.' Her eyes were suddenly dry and bright and she straightened her slim shoulders and lifted her chin, stilling the trembling of her body with a visible effort of will. ‘When can we leave? Tomorrow?'

‘I could arrange it.'

‘You are very kind. I will speak to Mrs Abuthnot tonight and tell her that I wish to leave immediately for Lunjore. I must do that. If she will assist me I will not have to trouble you. But if she will not, then - then I think it will be better if we leave as early as possible.'

Carlyon said gravely: ‘You are quite right, of course. Let us hope she may assist you.'

He had no qualms on that score, since he was quite certain that the Abuthnots would do no such thing. He offered his arm to Winter and said: ‘Shall we go now? Do you ride home, or shall you go in the carriage? I can tell Mrs Abuthnot that you have a headache. I do not think, you know, that you should leave without her. It would be remarked.'

Winter had returned in the carriage, and Mrs Abuthnot, who had been alarmed by the girl's pallor, had hurried her into bed and prescribed hot milk and chlorodyne drops. Her solicitude provided the opportunity Winter had needed to beg her permission and approval for an immediate departure to Lunjore, but Mrs Abuthnot, although deeply sympathetic, would not hear of it. Such a plan was out of the question.

‘After waiting for so long, dear, you can surely wait another eight days. Only think of poor Mr Barton's chagrin if you were to see him after all these years when he is not in looks.' To Winter's passionate assertion that Conway's looks could not make a particle of difference to her feeling for him, Mrs Abuthnot had replied that it was not dear Winter's feelings that were in
question, but poor Mr Barton's. Winter had argued and pleaded and Mrs Abuthnot had wept sympathetic tears, kissed her fondly but remained adamant.

‘You will see that Colonel Abuthnot will agree with me. And Alex too.' She had turned out the light and left the room, and Winter had lain awake in the darkness and made her own decision. She would not wait another eight days - or even one day. She would leave at once. Alex would be leaving Delhi on Monday and if she left tomorrow she would be in Lunjore by then: married to Conway and safe from him. She did not know why she had to be safe from Alex, or stop to realize that a part of the driving impulse to get to Lunjore and to Conway arose from a panic desire to escape from him.

Conway would have to get rid of Alex. He must arrange for him to be sent to some other appointment, and until that happened she at least need not see him again. As for Carlyon, she had forgotten both her dislike and distrust of the man and thought of him as no more than a means to an end. He was no longer a person with a character and passions of his own, but something of no more, or not so much, importance as the carriage and horses that would take her to Conway.

Winter groped for matches, and having found and lit a candle, slipped out of bed and wrote a brief note to Carlyon. The ayah should deliver it first thing in the morning. She wrote a second and longer one to Mrs Abuthnot, sealed it with a wafer, addressed it and put it away. Her trunks would have to be sent after her. To be packing trunks would not do at all. She lit a second candle, and making a selection of garments and other necessities, packed a small valise and a capacious carpet-bag. Carlyon would have to devise some means of smuggling them into the carriage. As for the ayahs, she would not be able to take either of them with her, but that could not be helped. And Conway would surely forgive the unconventionality of her proceedings once she was safely with him and had explained the circumstances. Struck by another thought she scribbled a hurried and loving note to Lottie - Lottie at least would understand!

That done she blew out the candles, and fell at last into an uneasy sleep.

Mrs Abuthnot had evidently given the question of Winter's proceeding immediately to Lunjore no further thought, for she did not refer to it on the following morning, and having inquired affectionately as to whether Winter had quite recovered from her headache, was full of plans for pre-wedding festivities in the forthcoming week. A seemingly endless list of engagements tripped off her tongue, from which she was only interrupted by Carlyon inquiring of Winter if she would care to drive out with him that morning to try the new carriage?

Mrs Abuthnot was not at all sure that it was quite the thing for dear Winter to be seen driving
à deux
with Lord Carlyon, but consoled herself with the reflection that she was, after all, engaged to be married. Besides the child really did look remarkably pale, and a drive, even in the heat of the morning,
would doubtless be of benefit to her. As they drove away she saw that Carlyon did not intend to sit in the carriage with his guest, but to ride beside it. The hood of the carriage had been raised against the morning sun and Mrs Abuthnot did not leave the shade of the verandah. Winter kissed her with unusual affection and Mrs Abuthnot, unsuspicious by nature, was touched.

The carriage rolled out of the drive under the shadows of the pepper trees, and ten minutes later, happening to look out of her bedroom window, Mrs Abuthnot saw Carlyon's down-country bearer and two of his syces riding out of the side gate that led from the stables, taking with them the two spare carriage horses. She supposed that they must have had their orders, but it seemed to her an odd time of day to exercise horses, and she could only imagine that it was Carlyon's ignorance of the country that had led him to order them out in the hottest part of the day. For a moment an odd twinge of uneasiness disturbed her, but Lottie demanding advice on the set of a ruched sleeve turned her thoughts into more congenial channels.