Shadow of the Moon (43 page)

Twelve o'clock brought no sign of the carriage, and by one o'clock Mrs Abuthnot was seriously disturbed. Neither Winter nor Carlyon, she was persuaded, would be so thoughtlessly inconsiderate as to hold up luncheon to this extent. There could be only one explanation. The carriage must have broken down, or - horrifying thought - the horses had bolted with it.

Mrs Abuthnot was immediately seized with the conviction that Winter was at that moment lying in some nullah with a broken neck. ‘Oh no, Mama!' cried Lottie turning alarmingly pale. ‘You cannot think … You cannot really believe … But Lord Carlyon would have sent back word had there been an accident. One of the syces would have ridden back.'

Investigation, however, proved that the procession that Mrs Abuthnot had witnessed leaving the stables that morning had also not returned. ‘Mama,' said Sophie thoughtfully, ‘you do not suppose that they can have eloped?'

Mrs Abuthnot uttered a small shriek. ‘Sophie! How can you suggest such a thing!'

‘I am sorry, Mama, but you must own it is a little strange that all Lord Carlyon's servants and his horses have left, and not one of them returned. And anyone could see that he admires Winter.'

‘Dear Winter would never—' began Mrs Abuthnot, and stopped. She had suddenly recalled the kiss that Winter had given her before setting out that morning. The kiss that had seemed so unusually demonstrative for that undemonstrative child. She had imagined at the time that it was intended in part as an apology for her outbreak on the previous night when she had pleaded to be allowed to leave immediately for Lunjore.

Lunjore
—! Mrs Abuthnot fell back in her chair with a groan that brought Lottie and Sophie running to her side. ‘Oh no!' gasped Mrs Abuthnot pressing her plump hands to her ample bosom. ‘Oh no! She
could
not do such a thing! She would at
least
have left a letter!'

Lottie flew for the hartshorn while Sophie, more practical, departed in the direction of Winter's bedroom, to return a few minutes later with two letters that she had found propped up on the chimney-piece where they could not fail to catch the eye of the first comer.

Colonel Abuthnot, summoned from the lines by an entirely unintelligible missive from his wife, gave it as his opinion that Carlyon had behaved shockingly, and that come to think of it he had never quite trusted the fellow. Something a sight too smooth and cynical about him. But he had not thought it of the little Condesa. Probably foreign ways; he had heard that they were surprisingly lax on the Continent.

To his wife's plea that he would set off immediately in pursuit of the runaways he had replied with an unqualified refusal. He was far too busy a man to go tearing about the country in pursuit of a young chit who was old enough to know better:

‘It's no good, Milly, my dear. I will not do it. The girl is going to her future husband. Very understandable. I cannot conceive what possessed Carlyon to agree to such a mad scheme, but if she was set upon going he may have considered that her protection on the journey was of paramount importance. Though he must also have realized that his presence was enough to ruin her reputation. I can only hope that the Commissioner of Lunjore will take a lenient view of it. As for suggesting that I should go in pursuit of them, the idea is preposterous. If anyone is to go in pursuit it had better be Captain Randall. The girl is betrothed to
his
superior officer, not mine. And he is a deal younger than I am; he might even overtake 'em. I should not.'

‘
Alex
!' exclaimed Mrs Abuthnot frantically. ‘
Why
did I not think of that!'

She hurried away to dash off a brief note requesting Alex's immediate presence, and having underlined ‘immediate' with three black lines that tore the paper, added a postscript, also underlined, stressing the urgency of the matter. This missive had been dispatched post-haste to Ludlow Castle, the residence of Alex's host, Mr Fraser, with instructions to the bearer of it that it must be delivered into the Captain Sahib's own hand. But Alex had been out, and the bearer of the letter, whose instructions had not included scouring Delhi for the Captain Sahib, had settled down to sleep away the afternoon in a convenient patch of shade in the compound, until such time as the Sahib should return.

Alex had arrived back barely half an hour before sunset in no very good humour, and had not been pleased to receive Mrs Abuthnot's agitated summons. He dismissed the servant with a verbal message to the effect that he would present himself within the hour, and went off to take a bath and change out of the dusty, sweat-soaked clothes he had worn all through the hot day. Having done this, he picked up the crumpled piece of letter-paper again and read it through, scowled at it, and tearing it into several pieces dropped
them on the floor and told Niaz to have Latif saddle Shalini and bring her round to the verandah in ten minutes' time.

He rode over to the cantonments in the warm, pearl-coloured aftermath of the sunset, when all the tints of earth and sky and river gather themselves together and merge into a brief opalescent twilight, and the first stars swim in a cool green sky like silver fish in clear water.

There were a good many carriages and riders on the roads; residents from Delhi and the cantonments driving out to enjoy the cool evening air. Alex passed several people whom he knew, but since his expression was anything but encouraging none of them had attempted to engage him in conversation. He had no idea what Mrs Abuthnot's note portended, but imagined that Winter had poured out to her something of the scene last night, and that she wished to hear from himself if he had really made such accusations against the Commissioner, and were they true.

Alex supposed that he would now have to convince the Abuthnots that he had, if anything, understated the case, and perhaps they would be able to prevent the girl from proceeding to Lunjore at the end of the month. The possibility that she might leave at once, and with Carlyon, had never occurred to him, and he was entirely unprepared for the announcement with which the tearful Mrs Abuthnot greeted him.

She saw the colour leave his face and a white line show about his mouth. He said: ‘What time did they leave?'

‘Quite early,' sobbed Mrs Abuthnot, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘Nine o'clock, I think.'

‘Good God, ma'am,' said Alex violently, ‘could you not have sent for me before?'

‘But we did not realize what had occurred until Sophie found this letter—'

She held it out to Alex, who having read it with eyes that were almost black with anger, crushed it into a ball and thrust it into his pocket. ‘And then you were out,' explained Mrs Abuthnot, ‘and the stupid man never thought to inquire after you. And George - Colonel Abuthnot - positively declines to go after them.'

‘Quite out of the question,' confirmed Colonel Abuthnot, who had caught the end of the sentence. He entered the room by the verandah door, and having nodded gloomily at Alex said: ‘What do you propose to do about it, my boy?'

‘Bring her back,' said Alex tersely.

‘Too late for that now. She'll have been out all night with that fellow before you can catch up with her. Besides, I can't see that it will do any good for you to go along as well. Two men ain't any better than one when it comes to playing propriety. Worse, if you ask me. Not sure I'd trust Carlyon very far. He had an eye to that girl. Wanted her himself, any fool could see that. Probably ruined her by now.'

He caught Alex's eye and took an involuntary step backwards, saying hastily: ‘No, no, I don't expect he'd do such a thing. But as far as her reputation is concerned—'

Alex cut him short. ‘May I take it that you would be willing to allow her to remain here when I bring her back, Mrs Abuthnot?'

‘Of course I should. I know only too well that the dear child means no harm. It was only that she was upset by the news of Mr Barton's illness and wished to go to his side without loss of time. One can understand that so well. The
best
of motives! But she may not wish to come back.'

‘Her wishes,' said Alex through shut teeth, ‘have nothing whatever to do with the matter. I shall hope to be back at a tolerably early hour tomorrow, and if this matter has not been mentioned outside the house I see no reason why it should become known.'

‘You need have no fears on that score, my boy,' said Colonel Abuthnot firmly. ‘We ain't likely to blab about such an affair. Though if it were not for that fellow Carlyon fancying himself in love with the girl, I'd advise you to let well alone and let her press on for Lunjore. I daresay Barton may be persuaded to take a lenient view of the matter once he has her safe, and if you don't try fetching her back it's he who'll have the handling of her.'

Alex, who had turned to leave the room, stopped with his hand on the doorknob and looked back. ‘It is precisely on that account,' he said savagely, ‘that I intend to bring her back. Lord Carlyon can go to the devil!'

The door slammed behind him, and Colonel Abuthnot, who had been giving the matter thought, said reflectively: ‘Damme if I don't believe he's fallen in love with the girl himself. Now look what you've done, Milly.'

‘Done? What have I done? I've sent him after her. Someone had to go. And of course he is not in love with her!'

‘You're a fool, Milly,' said Colonel Abuthnot affectionately. ‘Always were. Why else should he be in such a taking? He ain't the type to lose his temper for nothing. Now there'll be the devil to pay.'

‘What
can
you mean, George?'

‘Mean? I mean that if I'm right about him, and he overtakes those two before they reach Lunjore, he'll murder that fellow Carlyon. And if he doesn't, he'll probably murder Barton!'

Mrs Abuthnot, who had borne enough, took refuge in a strong attack of the vapours.

Alex's mood was so nearly murderous that Colonel Abuthnot's prediction might have come unpleasantly near the mark had it not been for one factor that he had not taken into his calculations. The ford at Jathghat.

He had stopped at Ludlow Castle barely long enough to inform his host that he would be unavoidably absent, and to collect Niaz, a third horse and his revolver. He had proffered no explanation for his actions and had left, riding at a breakneck speed that had taken them far on the road by the time
the moon was high. He knew that the carriage could not travel at any great speed owing to the poorness of the roads, and he imagined that it would halt at some dâk-bungalow for the night, so he calculated, with luck, on being able to come up with it well before midnight.

He had no very clear idea of what he intended to do when he did overtake it. Carlyon was bound to be difficult and he apparently had at least half a dozen servants with him. Niaz, however, could be trusted to deal with the latter, and as for Carlyon, it would give Alex the greatest pleasure to deal with his languid Lordship himself. He had not given much thought to Carlyon - beyond considering him a more suitable husband for Winter de Ballesteros than the Commissioner of Lunjore - and the murderous rage that had taken possession of him at the news of their flight had been almost entirely on account of Mr Barton.

If Winter had gone to Lunjore in the care of the Gardener-Smiths they could not have refused to shelter her and assist her to return to Delhi or Calcutta when she discovered, as she must almost immediately do, the impossibility of marrying the Commissioner. But if she were to arrive in Lunjore alone, with no one to turn to, there was no knowing what might happen. In all probability Mr Barton would see to it that any return was made impossible, and Alex had turned sick at the thought.

Even Colonel Abuthnot's reference to Carlyon's wanting the girl himself had done little more at the time than add to his fury; but now he remembered it again, and a cold fear took the place of that fury as he remembered also the scene he had interrupted on the evening of Winter's arrival in Delhi, and the look he had seen in Carlyon's eyes only last night. ‘If he has harmed her—' thought Alex savagely. ‘If he has harmed her—' He set his teeth and bent far forward in the saddle, riding as though he rode in a race, and with a recklessness that startled Niaz.

But he had forgotten the ford at Jathghat and the unseasonable clouds that Mrs Abuthnot had commented upon on the previous evening.

There had been rain in the foothills and on the plains beyond Moradabad and Rampur, and now, twenty-four hours and more later, the river had risen and was still rising. It had been dangerously high, though still fordable, when Winter and Carlyon had reached it some four hours earlier. But what had then been a ford of no more than fifty yards in length was now a brown, turgid torrent measuring a quarter of a mile from bank to bank, swirling sullenly past in the moonlight with an ominous chuckling gurgle that spoke of whirlpools and hidden currents.

Alex had been riding at a hand-gallop and paying little attention to the road, and he reined in hard at Niaz's shout of warning and dismounted to stare at the ugly stretch of water in blank dismay. He knew that road only too well, and knew too that when the river ran high there was nothing to do but wait for it to fall again, since the nearest alternative route meant a detour of fifty miles, and over such country as to make it, on a normal occasion, a
matter of less delay to wait for the flood-water to pass. But this was no normal occasion, for an interview with a sleepy villager aroused by Niaz had elicited the information that a memsahib in a carriage, accompanied by a sahib and several servants on horseback, had crossed the ford less than half an hour before it became impassable.

Alex swung himself back into the saddle, his face harsh and haggard in the bright moonlight, and turned north on the long detour to the nearest bridge.

Half an hour later a python slithered across the narrow and little-used track almost under the hooves of his tired horse. Shalini shied wildly and the low branch of a
kikar
tree slammed against Alex's wounded arm. He hit the ground with the point of his shoulder, and in the fractional second before his head struck against the rocks by the roadside, heard his collar-bone snap as he went down into darkness.