A HAVEN
After the departure of Ronnie I sat as if stunned; possibly I could not
have felt more utterly wretched had he been dead. Indeed, it almost
seemed to me as if there were an element of death in the bungalow, such
was the silence. Not a sound to be heard, except the dripping of a tap
and a casual lizard pattering on the matting; all the servants (and
other people’s servants) were collected in our cookhouse, discussing
the catastrophe. As a rule the usual daily routine is carried on, no
matter what trouble overtakes a household, and presently I saw the
butler preparing breakfast in the dining-room. Then he came to the
door, salaamed with both hands, and said:
“Please, missie, to come and take something. Last night missie no
dinner having; missie will be sick, and that plenty bad business for
everyone.”
This was true. If I were to collapse I would be of no use, nor able to
face the struggle and strain which lay before me. I accepted the kind
advice of Michael, ate a little breakfast and felt better. If Ronnie
was about to fall into this awful trouble, I must consider how I could
best assist him. I had already written home for money; I would arrange
for the sale of everything, and if the worst came to the worst, we
should have to go away somewhere together and hide our heads until the
first fury of the storm had abated.
It was now ten o’clock, and Ronnie had not yet returned. As I was
pacing up and down the veranda, a prey to misery and impatience, I
heard a light step in the drawing-room, and there was Mrs. Mills.
Without a word she took me in her arms and kissed me, and I could see
that she had been crying.
“My poor dear child,” she sobbed, “I have heard all. George has just
returned from the orderly-room, and we want to know what we can do to
help you. We are so desperately sorry for you. So is everyone.”
“You must not be too hard on Ronnie,” I protested, “but a little sorry
for him too.”
“Yes, yes,” she said; “we all liked him so much, and were so proud of
him too. It’s that dreadful gambling--he’s not the first young man that
it has ruined.”
“Ruined!” I repeated.
“Yes,” she answered, “at least in a way. The canteen money is gone and
he can offer no explanation. The colonel is nearly beside himself, and
your brother will have to stand a general court martial. Meanwhile he
is to be confined to his quarters in close arrest. There will be an
officer in charge of him and a sentry on duty, day and night.”
I attempted to speak, but my voice completely failed me.
“Under these circumstances, dear, you cannot remain here. These are
the colonel’s instructions, and George and I wish you to come to us at
once.”
“You are most awfully kind,” I replied, “and of course I will not
remain if it is irregular, but before I do anything I should like to
have a talk with Ronnie.”
“Very well, I expect he will be back directly. Do tell your ayah to
pack up your things. George says you are to have his room; he will move
into a tent in the compound.”
“You are more than good, dear Mrs. Mills, and I will let you know my
plans. Here comes Ronnie,” I exclaimed, as he and one of his brother
officers entered the veranda together. Mrs. Mills hastily disappeared
over the wall into her own premises, and as I could not face Ronnie’s
companion in my present state of mind I withdrew towards my room and
beckoned to my brother to follow me.
“Can I speak to my sister for a moment, Carr?” he inquired.
“Oh yes, by all means,” replied Mr. Carr, who I must confess looked
excessively uncomfortable--yes, and miserable.
Ronnie then led the way into his den and drew the purdah, but no one
could overhear us, as the little room was entirely cut off from the
veranda. I sat down and waited for him to speak. As he leant against
the wall he looked almost death-like. The wear and tear of the last
few months had entirely dimmed his good looks; his eyes were sunken,
and there were great hollows in his cheeks.
“I went up there,” he began in a husky voice, “and found that
_everything_ was known. The colonel ordered me to explain, but if I
had been shot I couldn’t have uttered a word! How could I describe the
frightful temptation that overpowered me when I fingered that roll of
greasy notes and firmly believed that I’d be the winner of more than
double the money before they could be missed? If I had been posted
at home--just think of it, and uncle’s feelings--I should have been
obliged to leave my London club, not to speak of the regiment; so,
as you know, I took the bull by the horns, grabbed the coin and gave
the notes to Bunsi Lal in exchange for a cheque on London; then, by
infernal bad luck it appears that one of these notes was passed in
the bazaar--a thousand rupee note which was peculiarly marked. Fryer
the paymaster spotted it, and smelt a thousand rats, and no doubt he
gave the C.O. a hint, hence these--er--tears. I wrote the whole story
home to uncle. His answer is due in ten days. Whatever it may be, it
comes too late now. Well, in the orderly-room I made no defence; just
stood there tongue-tied. At the court martial, of course, I’ll have an
advocate--but all the same I’m bound to get the boot! The colonel is
beside himself--in a stone-cold rage--for it seems that no officer of
the ‘Lighthearts’ has ever before been court-martialled.”
I nodded my head, and Ronnie continued:
“Carr or another will be on duty, and so you must turn out, as _you_
are not under close arrest; and I hope you will get away from the
regimental lines. It will be rather awkward for everyone if you are
hereabouts, though I know that the Millses wish to take you in.”
“Yes,” I replied, “Mrs. Mills has been here.”
“You must go to someone outside the regiment, to the Greys, the
Babingtons or the Campbells, to await the finding of the court martial,
and then you and I will clear out. I say, I wonder how Falkland will
take it?”
To this I made no reply--the thought of Brian was agonising.
“If I know him--and yet I don’t know him--I believe this business will
make no difference. If I were a thief--well I _am_ a thief--let’s say
a murderer, I believe he would stick to you all the same--he is that
sort.”
“Do you think so?” I murmured tremulously.
“Yes, sure, and now to business. I’ll get Arkwright to sell the stable,
Cursetjee is to take the auction. I know you’ve made an inventory, and
that thanks to you we have no small bills. If you happen to have any
money, you might give it to Michael to run the house, as I shall always
have a fellow here on duty. I understand that they will do their best
to assemble a court martial soon, but a general court martial with a
brigadier as president takes time--at the earliest it will be three
weeks.”
“How dreadful!” I exclaimed. “What ages to wait in suspense. Do you
suppose you will be what is called--cashiered?”
“Bound to,” he answered curtly.
After a moment I said:
“I have a hundred rupees I will give to Michael, for which he will
account to you. I suppose I shall be allowed to come and see you?”
“Yes,” he replied, “and you had better come after dark.”
“Well, whatever happens, Ronnie, remember that _I_ shall stick to you
through thick and thin.”
“Then if you do, you will be an awful fool! I shall only drag you down.
When this business is over, I’ll go to the colonies or South America,
and you must return home and marry Falkland.”
At this moment the ayah pulled back the curtain. She had a chit in her
hand.
“For missie,” she said, coming forward. I opened the note; it was from
Mrs. Lakin, and ran:
“DEAR GIRL,--I have heard of your great trouble, and am so sorry for
you both. You must come to me to-day. I shall fetch you about three
o’clock, and bring a cart for your luggage. Down here at Begumpett
we are out of the world, and you can just be as quiet as you please.
There are only my husband and myself. We are, as you know, neither
young nor smart, only dull and old-fashioned, but we’ll do our
best to take care of you and will look upon you as one of our own
girls.--Yours in affectionate sympathy,
“LUCINDA J. LAKIN.”
“That’s the place for you!” said Ronnie, who had been reading the note
over my shoulder, “she’s a rare good sort, and you’ll be out of the way
of prying eyes and the talk. Lord! _how_ people will talk! Old Mother
Lakin is one of the best. You can get her to bring you up and see me of
an evening. And now I must go back to Carr; he is bound to be starving
for his breakfast. He or another officer will have this room, so tell
your old ayah to hurry up and pack. Well, Eva,” and his voice shook,
as he put his hand suddenly on my shoulder and looked me straight in
the face, “I must say this is beastly hard on _you_.” Then he kissed me
with burning hot lips, and swung back into the sitting-room.
In order to prepare for Ronnie’s guard, Mary ayah and I worked
vigorously for hours, and put together and packed my multitude of
belongings. This task accomplished, I interviewed Michael and the
cook, wrote business letters to Cursetjee and Spencer, and when Mrs.
Lakin called she found me ready to accompany her. As we drove out of
the compound I turned to look back on the bungalow with its cork tree
avenue and veranda veiled in creepers, for three months the abode of
happiness, and the theatre of so many experiences: the scenes with
Balthasar, with Brian, and with Ronnie.
Kind Mrs. Lakin did not attempt to make conversation as we rolled along
side by side behind a shabby coachman and an ancient screw, but from
time to time she pressed my hand with silent and comforting sympathy.
On the steps of his house Colonel Lakin received me as if nothing
particular had happened and I was a visitor whom he delighted to
honour. My room was prepared, and oh, how comfortable! Such large down
pillows, such deep roomy chairs and a delightful sofa. Most of the
furniture, I subsequently learned, had been bought from Deschamps in
Madras, when Colonel and Mrs. Lakin started housekeeping, and since
then had travelled hundreds--I may say thousands--of miles over the
Madras Presidency. On this inviting couch I lay down to rest, worn out
between emotion and the loss of sleep. Dusk had come and I must have
enjoyed more than the traditional forty winks, when the ayah announced:
“Mem sahib Soames.”
The heavy chick was thrust aside and Mrs. Soames entered without
apology. The moment I saw her I sprang up.
“My dear child,” she began, “I simply _had_ to come and see you.” She
put her arms round my neck and kissed me. “I am just heart-broken,
though, after all, what am I to you?”
We sat down together on the sofa, and she held my hand in hers.
“Ronnie must have been mad, poor boy; but gambling is like a disease,
it is in the blood. My grandfather had it, and only for the mercy of
my mother’s fortune we would certainly have all been in the workhouse.
Ronnie is the last young man I’d have dreamt of getting into such
trouble. I would have fetched you the moment I heard of----” and
she stammered “of--of----” then wisely abandoned the detail. “James,
although he likes you immensely, said it would be better if you were
not in our lines. You could not help seeing and hearing things that
might jar and pain you. So dear Mrs. Lakin is quite the right person
to receive you, but Eva--you believe, don’t you, that I am always your
sincere and loving friend?”
“Yes,” I replied, “I am quite sure of that.”
“James is frantic,” she resumed. “I have never seen him in such a
condition; he cannot eat, he cannot rest, he paces up and down the
dining-room like some caged animal. There has never been a scandal or
a court martial in the regiment--at least, not within the memory of
man--and he takes this affair most fearfully to heart. He says it will
be in all the papers at home, and that if he had done the deed himself
he could not feel the disgrace more acutely. Oh, if I had only known
that your brother wanted a loan I’d have lent him the money without
hesitation. He was always one of my best boys--and I do try to help
them. If he had just given me one little hint--and you, my dear?”
turning to me.
“I knew nothing, dreamt of nothing, till the night before last, when I
found Ronnie with a revolver in his hand.” Here I broke down and sobbed
in her arms.
When I had somewhat recovered and was able to speak more coherently, I
told my friend the story of Balthasar’s revenge and perfidy.
“Oh, you poor, poor darling!” she cried. “How dared he? I heard that
you had been seen with him in his car, but did not believe it; and so
you sacrificed yourself to Balthasar’s vanity and malice, and all for
nothing. Well now,” drying her own tears, “I shall come and see you
again, of course, and we will lay our heads together and make plans. If
there is anyone I can write to, any possible thing that I can do, you
have only to send me a line by one of Mrs. Lakin’s chuprassies. Now I
am afraid, dear, it is getting late and I must go.”
Mrs. Mills, Zora, the Greys, and various other friends came to see me.
Their visits were most kindly meant, but undeniably painful for them
and for me. It was not as if I had lost Ronnie by death; I had been
separated from him by disgrace, and their condolences were vague and
embarrassing.
How I longed to hide myself and be alone, although Mrs. Lakin’s company
was never unwelcome. Her large heart overflowed with tactful human
kindness, and I was treated as something between a spoilt child and
a pampered invalid, and oh, the solid comfort of her ménage! What
well-oiled wheels in all departments; what soft-footed servants, what
cream, eggs, and butter (Mrs. Lakin had her own cows and poultry); but
in these days I could not eat, and supported existence on tea and toast.
Every evening about sundown my friend took me for long drives into
the country; the boulder-strewn plains looked soft and beautiful in
the moonlight, and as we bowled along behind the old chestnut--a
surprisingly free goer--she told me tales of former days, on purpose,
no doubt, to keep my thoughts from dwelling--as they did--on the one
subject. She also related the history of scandals, social convulsions,
courts martial and civil trials, beside which Ronnie’s iniquities were
pale and insignificant. The kind woman exerted herself in this manner
in order to cheer me and give my future a less hopeless outlook.
Colonel Lakin was also active on my behalf. He got rid of our ponies
and cart, Ronnie’s guns and saddlery, all for a good price; and Zora’s
eldest brother bought my dear Tommy Atkins and promised him a happy
home.
On several occasions I had visited Ronnie, and found him more like his
normal self and less depressed.
“Now that I have no anxieties and nothing to _hide_, I feel better and
I can sleep,” he announced. “Arkwright tells me that I have a capital
chap as my advocate, and I must say the fellows in the regiment have
been extraordinarily forbearing and staunch. Grimes sends down the
papers, Waller brought me a box of the best Havana cigars, and I go for
a drive every evening when there’s no one about. The one thing that
I cannot stand is the sentry always in evidence. I believe the court
martial will soon assemble now. They are bringing members from Bellary,
Poona and Bangalore, and I don’t suppose it will last longer than a
couple of days. Is it not extraordinary that I’ve had neither letter
nor cheque from Uncle Horace?”
“Not when you remember that all his correspondence is overlooked by
Aunt Mina.”
“And she always pretended to be so fond of me--and now, as far as she
is concerned, I may drop into the pit.”
“Well, you and I will drop down together,” I declared. “Keep up your
heart--they say the troubles we most fear are those that never happen.”
Alas, the dreaded event arrived only too soon. I heard of the date
from my kind friend Colonel Lakin. The members assembled, and sat in
the regimental ante-room. On the first day the business was chiefly
technical and formal; the second held Ronnie’s fate, and it seemed to
me to be as long as an average week. I had declined to go for my usual
evening drive, but waited within doors for the return of Colonel Lakin,
who would bring us the result of the finding.
It was late when he returned to Begumpett and the wheels of his
dog-cart rumbled under the lofty porch. Mrs. Lakin was awaiting him
in the veranda, but I was too anxious and shaken to venture beyond
my room. In a condition of breathless tension I heard him enter the
drawing-room and exchange a few words with his wife. Rooms in the
Madras Presidency are merely separated by thick curtains, with a wide
space open at the top, and as I overheard her sharp exclamation I was a
little prepared when she came to me with a troubled face and said:
“Dear child, I don’t know _how_ I am to tell you, but they have found
your brother guilty of the misappropriation of regimental funds----”
She paused, and the tears ran down her cheeks as she added in a broken
voice: “They have given him two years’ imprisonment.”
As soon as I had grasped the real meaning of this speech I seemed to
feel as if I were crumbling to pieces, and sank on the ground in a dead
faint.