Christmas gaieties were now in the air. The pleasant life-long
associations which cluster round that season for Anglo-Indians seem to
urge them to almost feverish anxiety to celebrate it with increased zeal
in their exile. The whole community in fact catches the contagion. The
natives, both civil and sepoy, look forward to "Kismas" as a time of
gifts and _tomashas_; while the Eurasian community vie with each other
in imitating its time-honoured rites.
To Hester Rayner its approach brought more than a suspicion of
homesickness. She remembered sadly that the glad old greetings would
sound for other ears than hers in the dear home far away, while to her
husband, the chief preoccupation seemed the success of the impending
dinner-party on which he had set his heart. The invitations had been
duly issued by Hester, and to his satisfaction the hoped-for guests had
all responded, two covers being reserved for the Collector of Puranapore
and his Assistant.
The dinner had been arranged on an even more lavish scale than any of
their former entertainments. The rarest flowers procurable were ordered.
The menu was to be purveyed by D'Angelis, a clever Italian chef, who
sent forth the daintiest of entrees and savouries, and the most
delectable of ice-puddings.
"All must be of the most elegant and select," said Mr. Rayner, looking
up from his lists before him. "I want old Worsley to see what a
first-rate dinner 'La'yer Rayner' can give. I've ordered cases of the
best hock and champagne to please his fastidious palate. I hear his boy
is an excellent caterer, and no doubt Worsley is a _bonne fourchette_."
But disappointment came in the shape of a note from Mark Cheveril to
Hester, to tell her that he and his chief were engaged for Christmas
Eve. She read Mark's letter aloud in faltering tones, knowing the
chagrin it would bring to her husband, who said bitterly:
"A very lukewarm friend, Hester! He might easily have arranged to come
to us if he had cared to. Yet what friendship he professed for you and
the whole Bellairs family! But you see it is just in such selfish moves
that his half-caste blood comes out!"
Hester did not like her husband throwing the blame on Mark, yet she
could not help feeling that her old friend might have remembered how
much it would mean to her to see a home face among the new acquaintances
who were to gather round their board. Mr. Rayner seemed anxious to
ignore the disappointment.
"I can easily provide substitutes," he remarked airily, "who will be
proud to sit at my table." But Hester felt that this artificial occasion
would only remind her sorrowfully of the happy gatherings of Pinkthorpe
days; the excitement of decorating the village church, the frosty
sunsets, the joys of holly and misletoe, and the festive air which
seemed to pervade everything.
Christmas Eve came round. She had already dressed for dinner, wearing,
at her husband's request, her wedding dress, with beautiful, white
camellias at her waist and on her fair wavy hair.
"Oh, ma'm, how booful you looking," said her ayah, with many
ejaculations of admiration; and she called Rosie to have a peep at the
beautiful Dosani.
Hester had just fastened her gold cross with its tiny chain on her neck
when her husband entered the room.
"How fortunate I've remembered, Hester! I've just excavated your
diamonds from my safe. I believe you wanted to give them a premature
burial there! Not so shall you treat my loving gifts, my love! Off with
that trumpery cross and let me see my gems sparkling on your beautiful
neck!"
Hester tried hard to conceal the disappointment she felt at having to
wear the ostentatious jewel, but she saw it was inevitable, though the
ayah, on the pretext of arranging the folds of her dress, whispered to
her: "Missus wear cross--that plentee luckee jewel!"
The change, however, was effected, though Hester averted her eyes from
the mirror that she might not behold herself in the resplendent gem,
though she felt somewhat rewarded for her self-sacrifice by her
husband's gratification.
The long elaborate dinner seemed to drag endlessly, and it was apparent
to Hester that one or two of the guests looked bored. After the ladies
returned to the drawing-room, the "rankest" lady, whom the host had
taken into dinner, said to her with a pronounced yawn:
"I didn't like to ask your husband--but my dear Mrs. Rayner, what became
of the Collector of Puranapore? I understood he was to be your guest
this evening?"
"Oh, that was only a peradventure, Mrs. Grace. Mr. Worsley only arrived
in Madras to-day, and was engaged for this evening."
"Then he declined your invitation?" asked Mrs. Grace sharply. "And his
Assistant, did he also decline? I thought we were to have the pleasure
of meeting both. In fact, Mr. Rayner told my husband so some time ago."
She was about to add: "And but for that expectation we would have also
declined the invitation." But even the Mrs. Graces of Anglo-Indian
society have bounds which they cannot pass.
Observing the flush that rose to her hostess's face, she changed the
topic, though on her drive home she did not fail to remark to her
husband:
"That favourite of yours has shifty eyes, my dear. I don't like the man,
and he lured us to that dull party on false pretences. I discovered
that neither Mr. Worsley nor his Sub. had accepted the invitation to the
party--found it out from Mrs. Rayner. Sorry for her, poor thing! She
seems a lady, didn't even try to explain away her husband's snaring of
us, though I saw she felt it. And what an extravagant dinner! Why, those
flowers must have cost a fortune! And the things all came from
D'Angelis, I recognised his dishes."
"First-rate wine," remarked Mr. Grace in a plethoric voice. "Wish I
could afford such good stuff! Rayner must be a rich man. That feast
anyhow must have cost a mint of money!"
"And did you see his wife's diamonds too? A new acquisition
evidently--never saw them before. A little gold cross was all the girl
ever wore. I expect he was bullied into that expensive gift, or perhaps
she got it from some admirer."
"What cats you women are! Don't believe that girl could bully anybody
though she tried. To my mind she's the most ladylike girl about just
now. I felt sorry for her to-night. Her face had a sad look when she
wasn't trying to talk to that dull fellow who took her in. I don't know
where Rayner picked him up. I suppose he was asked to fill the
Collector's place."
The conjugal remarks as the relays of carriages swept out of the
Rayner's compound bore a strong resemblance to each other. The host and
hostess were also keenly aware that the elaborate dinner-party had been
less successful than any of its predecessors, though that knowledge
affected them differently.
"I close my cheque book to dinners of that sort in future," said Mr.
Rayner with a snarl, as he flung himself on a lounging chair in the
verandah and betook himself to a cheroot. "Ungrateful pack, one and all!
They only came to eat D'Angelis' excellent _pâté de foie gras_ and toss
down my magnums of the best champagne. Shan't get the chance again!"
Hester expressed herself by no means sorry to hear her husband register
this vow, and added musingly:
"Small dinner parties can be delightful. You remember when we dined at
Mrs. Fellowes' there were only eight of us in all. And how bright the
talk was, and how prettily Mrs. Fellowes had decorated the table with
those simple tendrils from her own hedge, and how beautifully those
silver tankards shone--the Colonel's sporting trophies, his own and his
father's, who had been in the same regiment. He told me so many
interesting things about the Native Infantry that evening. And then
those pretty old English ballads Mrs. Fellowes sang were delightful."
"Well, Hester, I'm sure you might have given us a song to-night! It
would have made a variety. Why didn't you?"
"Because you said last time we had a dinner-party that nobody was to be
asked to sing--that music seemed a disturbing element to the lords of
creation over their wine--so I forbore. Or, rather, I should say, it was
never suggested. I shouldn't think Mrs. Grace cared for music. But I'll
give you a Christmas carol now before we go to bed if you like. It will
chase away the gaudy note of our last big dinner-party. Oh, I'm so glad,
Alfred, you've made up your mind not to have any more of those 'meetings
of debtors and creditors,' as someone calls them," said Hester more
cheerfully, as she went to the piano and pondered which of the old
carols she would choose for this Christmas Eve, deciding that nothing
could be more welcome than the hymn which calls us to "lay aside our
crushing load and hear the angels sing."
Hester lingered for some time at the piano singing old favourites. When
she rose from it, the little cloud which had been resting on her seemed
overlaid by the spirit of peace. She felt vexed as she drew near her
husband's chair that there was no response to the gladsome words. He sat
staring gloomily into the darkness, and she did not venture to disturb
him.
Next morning Hester was astir even earlier than usual. She had prepared
little Christmas presents for each of the numerous servants, and
enjoyed their evident gratified reception of them. Her ayah and Rosie
were soon resplendent in her gift of new sarees. Even the _malis_ were
not forgotten, and deposited their big red watering-chattees in front of
the house while they made salaams to the Dosani in return for their new
turbans.
Mr. Rayner had been employing his early Christmas morning by making a
big bonfire of old papers outside the verandah of his writing-room,
coaxing the flames in the still air with a palm leaf. While so engaged a
telegram was handed to him.
"Horrid news from Palaveram, Hester," he called to his wife. "Young Hyde
shot himself last night after mess--just as I was trying to extricate
him from his troubles. They've asked me to go out to arrange matters.
Great nuisance! I meant to spend the day peacefully lounging about the
verandah and smoking cheroots."
"Young Hyde dead by his own hand! Oh, poor boy, how dreadfully sad!"
exclaimed Hester in horror, mourning another "rashly importunate gone to
his death" in that long sad procession of broken lives.
Mr. Rayner left after breakfast, and Hester felt glad she could respond
to the chimes of the Cathedral, which were ringing for worship on this
Christmas morning. They seemed to have a special note for her saddened
heart, telling of the wideness of God's mercy--like that fair,
illimitable ocean in its shining peace which swept round these shores,
and of which she could catch glimpses as she took her solitary drive to
church to find strength and hope in the all-embracing symbols of
Infinite Love.
She returned home soothed and helped by the familiar service which
seemed to forge a link between the little village church at home and the
noble Cathedral beneath the waving Indian palms.