Stella was careful to conceal from Robert the pleasure she found in her
lessons with the white-bearded, horn-spectacled patriarch appointed her
tutor. Having attained her desire through guile, she did not intend to
risk deprivation through candour. Now and then, as a precaution, she
would allude jokingly to her studies, sometimes feigned to be weary of
them, implying that only a determination not to be baffled by a
self-imposed task caused her to persevere; and Robert, who regarded the
matter as a whim that would pass, made no further obstruction. During
the hours while he was safely at office she worked zealously, and the
progress she made surprised her, unconscious as she was of her own
mental ability. Soon she could carry on simple conversations with the
old teacher, and she forbade Champa to speak to her in English, greatly
to the disgust of that accomplished female, who feared that her prestige
in the compound as interpreter to the memsahib might suffer.
Champa sulked, and in some mysterious fashion seemed to join forces with
Sher Singh in creating an atmosphere of espionage that to Stella was
intensely exasperating. Did she give an order on her own account, it was
caught up at once and repeated elaborately by the ayah; if she wandered
in the garden Sher Singh would follow, and when she made objections
both servants professed to misunderstand what she said. She felt she was
being harried, and was unable to discover the reason. Never could she
succeed in exploring the servants' quarters, for Sher Singh was always
at hand; and as Robert had bidden her keep away from the low line of
dwellings that swarmed with people, like a species of human ant-heap,
disobedience might be reported by Sher Singh to his master either with
or without intentional spite. Sometimes Mrs. Cuthell came to see her,
also Mrs. Piggott and Mrs. Antonio, and during their visits Champa
lurked and peeped, or Sher Singh hung about the doorways.
These ladies invited Mrs. Crayfield informally to tea or to tiffin, but
Robert discouraged acceptance, said it was better not to start
intimacies, as if he were jealous of her possible friendships; and
although no real sacrifice was entailed, Stella made capital out of her
refusals--pretended she was foregoing a pleasure for the sole reason
that she wished to follow Santa-Sahib's will. She told herself she was
growing sinfully deceitful; but her apprehension lest her study of the
language should be stopped if she opposed Robert's prejudices in any
other direction was stronger than her conscience. Anything to keep him
amiable. Sometimes she wondered if she had any conscience left.
Therefore Crayfield remained complacently convinced of his young wife's
devotion. She gave him no trouble, was apparently content to leave the
household control to Sher Singh, always looked lovely and fresh and
sweet-tempered, and he desired no more. Wit and wisdom, intelligent
conversation on her part would merely have bored him, rendered him
vaguely suspicious. In his opinion women were better without education,
which, all the same, was not to be confounded with what he regarded as
"accomplishments." He liked her to sing pretty ballads and play waltzes;
he enjoyed singing to her sympathetic accompaniment; and when she
attempted to paint flowers and kingfishers and storks, or embroider
strips of "crash" with intricate patterns in coloured cottons, on the
lines of Mrs. Daw's remembered achievements, he criticised the results
with patronising encouragement.
Thus the days passed smoothly. Rides in the late afternoon, a few formal
dinners to "the station," the weekly "at homes," music in the evenings,
until, shortly before Christmas, they went into camp on a tour of
inspection. This meant double sets of tents, quantities of folding
furniture, camels and carts and followers innumerable; it was a kind of
royal progress. They passed from district to district, joining camps
with various officials who came within the Commissioner's jurisdiction,
friendly people to be entertained by their chief, entertaining him and
his pretty wife in return. Stella revelled in the long marches on
horseback, in the brilliant "cold weather," the small game shooting
parties in the evenings when work was over, and the ever interesting
background of villages, crops and cattle. She felt that such
compensations made it worth while to be Santa-Sahib's plaything,
especially as her lessons could be continued with the old _munshi_, who
had somehow provided himself with a tent like a candle extinguisher and
a small cow-hocked pony at Government expense. From him Stella gathered
much local lore, curious stories of native village life. He expounded to
her the system of self-government, old as the East. She caught glimpses
of an ingrained faith in the power of spells and charms that all went
back to the worship of Nature, though their origins had long been lost
sight of, obscured by time.
It was with genuine regret that she returned to the station to "settle
down," according to Robert, for the hot weather months. Rassih looked
dusty and drear after the groves and cultivation of the district, the
house felt more vast and oppressive, the outlook over the desert was one
endless yellow haze. Preparations proceeded for the fierce heat that was
at hand. Punkahs were hung from the ceilings, clumsy machines called
"thermantidotes" made their appearance for the purpose of pumping cooled
air into the rooms when the moment should arrive, screens of
sweet-scented grass lay piled in the verandas, to be erected in the
doorways and kept damp when the west wind should sweep and swirl over
the land by day, and often by night as well.
The only change that threatened the social community was the coming
departure of the Cuthells. The transfer took place shortly after the
Crayfields' return to the station, and Mrs. Cuthell paid her farewell
respects to the Commissioner's wife bursting with satisfaction, her
broad face one beam of rejoicing and excitement.
"I can't describe to you how thankful we are to be leaving this dreadful
place, Mrs. Crayfield, especially just as the hot weather is beginning.
Only wait till it is in full blast, my dear, and then won't you wish you
were out of it too! Rassih is one of the hottest stations in India, and
this house, for all its height and space, can be a veritable oven. It's
such luck that we are going to the hills on duty. You must ask your
husband to let you come up to us for a visit. You will lose your bright
complexion and good spirits, and get fever and prickly heat and all the
rest of it if you stay here too long."
"It is very kind of you," rejoined Stella, unperturbed by these awful
forebodings, "but I'm really rather looking forward to the experience."
Mrs. Cuthell glanced round the great drawing-room, that certainly of
late had undergone much improvement, but all the same she gave a little
shudder.
"Well, of course you can but try it," she croaked; "but in addition to
definite drawbacks, I always feel that this house is so creepy. I
suppose on account of its history--all those poor women and children
being murdered here at the time of the mutiny. It seems so horrible to
think of the officers cut down on parade, and then their families hiding
here on the roof. They say the mutineers did not think of looking for
them on the roof, and were just leaving the compound when one woman
peeped over the parapet and they saw her. Of course, it was all up with
the poor creatures; they were dragged down and murdered. It is difficult
to realise that it all happened less than forty years ago."
She paused abruptly at the sight of Stella's white face and
horror-stricken eyes. "Oh, didn't you know?" she inquired with remorse.
"I'm so sorry I spoke of it, but I never dreamt----"
Stella gulped down her horror, but for the moment all her enthusiasm for
India turned to revulsion. That dark page of history had hitherto seemed
so remote, so unreal, like some tragedy of the Middle Ages long since
forgotten and forgiven. Now the fact of its comparative recency, the
vision of those defenceless women and children dragged down from the
actual roof that was above her head, to be butchered without mercy in
these very rooms, affected her acutely. How could she exist month after
month in a dwelling that must be saturated with such agonising memories?
"Now, if anyone tells you that extraordinary noises are sometimes heard
during the hot weather," continued Mrs. Cuthell with the best
intentions, "don't take any notice. I have never believed in ghosts
myself, and probably if there _are_ noises they come from the
underground ruins--falling of masonry, and so on."
"The underground ruins!" repeated Stella. What was she to hear next?
"Yes. You know, one of the old Moghul emperors--I forget his name--was
supposed to have dug himself a subterranean living-place, because he was
blind--ophthalmia, no doubt, like so many natives. Anyway, all
underneath the house and compound there are said to be tunnels and
chambers, and an oil tank and treasure, and goodness knows what. The
emperor went to war with some neighbouring enemy and got killed, so
that he and his followers never came back, and what they left
underground nobody knows."
"And has nobody ever tried to find out?" asked Stella, her curiosity
aflame.
"I believe your husband's predecessor in the appointment got leave to
dig. He used the prisoners from the jail, but so many accidents
happened--men fell into holes and broke their limbs, or died from the
bad air, and were bitten by snakes, and in the middle of it all the
Commissioner went mad and committed suicide by jumping over the parapet
at the back of the house. Of course, the natives said the digging had
brought bad luck----" Again Mrs. Cuthell feared she had been indiscreet.
"But you mustn't think of these things," she added cheerfully. "There is
hardly an old house in India that hasn't some unpleasant story, and I'm
sure you are far too sensible to let your mind dwell on anything that
may have happened in the past."
It had been far from Mrs. Cuthell's intention to leave a legacy of
apprehension and disquietude to the Commissioner's young wife, though
she had never quite forgiven the usurpation of her throne as chief
memsahib of the station by one so much her junior. With all her shallow
outlook, Mrs. Cuthell owned a well-meaning disposition, and now she
sincerely regretted that in her selfish elation and glee she should have
alarmed and depressed the poor girl, however unwittingly, as she could
not fail to perceive had been the result of her chatter.
"Now do remember," she said with an affectionately repentant farewell,
"if you find you can't stand the heat you have only to write and say you
are coming to us, and we shall be truly delighted to put you up for as
long as you like. I mean it."
Stella murmured her gratitude. She divined Mrs. Cuthell's self-reproach,
and realised the wisdom of her advice not to allow her mind to dwell on
the information so thoughtlessly imparted. After all, if Mrs. Cuthell
had not divulged the history of the house, someone else would have done
so sooner or later; it was only a wonder she had not heard it all before
now. She freely forgave Mrs. Cuthell, and was sorry to see the last of
her. Had Robert allowed her to make a friend she would have chosen Mrs.
Cuthell, who at least was simple and true. Stella did not trust Mrs.
Piggott. Mrs. Antonio and Pussy were out of the question as intimates.
She had nothing in common with Mrs. Beard, and she had seen little of
the other ladies. None of them had made friendly advances beyond their
first calls, and a self-interested attendance at Mrs. Crayfield's weekly
"at homes," when they were assured of good tennis and refreshments and
an enjoyable afternoon.
Nevertheless, Stella had Mrs. Cuthell to thank for a sleepless night,
that was followed at intervals by many others. She lay awake visualising
horrors, listening with dread for "extraordinary sounds," though she
heard nothing more startling than the usual chorus of jackals and hyenas
outside, the snores of a servant in one of the verandas, and the
coughing and murmuring of the night guard. She made no confession of her
fears to Robert. For one thing she suspected that his silence
concerning the stories and associations of the place had been due not so
much to consideration for her peace of mind as for his own convenience,
and she could well understand his motive. A wife with "nerves,"
despondent, anxious to escape, would not be at all to his taste. But her
efforts to conceal her apprehensions and her antipathy to the house only
added to the strain.