Nurse in India (20 page)

“I—I suppose you
’
ll be all right!” For the first time Allegra displayed some anxiety on Stella
’
s account. “Suppose that awf
u
l man is still lurking around!”

“He won
’
t be anywhere within miles,” Stella returned confidently. “Anyway, he has no motive for trying to murder me—and apart from that I
’
ve got his knife!” And waiting just long enough to hear Allegra admitted to her aunt
’
s room, she walked out again into the quiet night.

In spite of her brave words to Allegra, she was feeling horribly shaken and nervous, and when, as she reached the gate, a figure dropped down at her knees and burst into vehement protestations, she had to stifle a cry of alarm.

“
Memsahib
, may Allah reward you!” Hussein
’
s voice
was choked with emotion. “You have saved me from a great crime. Now that the madness has departed from me I see that, vile as that woman is, to slay her, while sleeping would be shameful and cowardly.”

Stella looked down at him coldly. “You knew, at least, that such a thing would be utterly abhorrent to me. I made no secret of that this morning, when you came to me with your playacting tricks.”

“I know. But to see my sahib always in company with that black-hearted one and to know that she meant to marry him—”

“Even that is no excuse.” And then, moved to pity by the tormented look on the dark face, she said more gently, “Perhaps, even if I hadn
’
t come in just then, you might have stopped short! Otherwise why did you stand there like a statue?”

“It is true,
memsahib
.”
His eyes lighted up. “Even then the madness was going from me.” And then he asked brokenly, just as Allegra had done, “Oh, what shall I do?”

“For the moment you can see me safely back to the rest house,” Stella said steadily. “And after that you had better lie very low for a while. I shall say nothing to anyone
—
believing your words that the madness is gone forever, and I do not think the
memsahib
will speak, although she knows what you meant to do.”

Hussein got slowly to his feet. “You speak wisdom,
memsahib
,” he answered quietly, and helping her onto her bicycle, he ran beside her, in a steady jog, to the gates of the rest house.

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

It was hardly surprising
th
at Stella slept little during the remainder of that eventful night. In the intervals between lurid dreams, in which she was chased with knives by hordes of shouting fakirs, or run down relentlessly by native cyclists, she tossed and turned, wondering what Allegra
’
s reactions would be to the incidents of a few hours ago. If Allegra believed that she, Stella, had saved her life, surely she would feel moved at last to make generous amends for the past; surely she would come out into the open and tell Roger and Jim the truth about those old happenings. Everyone, after all, had a spark of decency somewhere; the old rani had shown it, and Hussein, in the midst of his murderous designs, had felt the prick of conscience. Why should Allegra be the one exception?

H
opes that she had thought were stifled forever sprang to life again in her heart. And instead of banishing from her mind the memory of that afternoon when Roger had taken her in his arms in the darkness and kissed her with such passion, such adoration, she allowed herself deliberately to dwell on it. If only Allegra had that tiny glimmer of honorable feeling, what bliss might lie ahead for herself and Roger—bliss summed up in that laconic phrase, “a happy marriage.” They would not only be lovers but friends and close companions, growing nearer and dearer to each other as the years went by—neither thinking the other perfect, but kind to each other
’
s little faults and foibles, a
n
d fearing one thing only, a
mong
life
’
s tribulations; the pain of separation from the beloved. Oh, it was true, she was sure, what Roger had said—they were made for each other!

In spite of her broken night the revival of these hopes prevented her from feeling completely exhausted, and when the next morning she went to see Miss Jellings, the old lady declared that she was looking more cheerful than she had for a long time. Smiling back at her, Stella half expected some reference to her nocturnal expedition on
Muhammad Ali
’
s bicycle, but apparently Jelly had heard
nothing of this. Nor had she been aware of Armand
’
s visit,
and she was highly intrigued to learn that he was coming to
tea that afternoon to bring them a piece of good news
about himself.

“There are so few excitements here, it
’
s fine to have
some sort of a thrill in prospect,” she told Stella. And
though Stella, rather naturally, was far from agreeing with
this point of view, she rejoiced that her dear old friend was
feeling well enough to welcome a diversion from her long
hours of rest.

Her restlessness over Allegra, and the reaction from the
alarms and excursions of the previous day, made the time
hang heavily for Stella; and she, too, was glad when at
four o
’
clock Armand made his appearance.

She left him alone with Jelly for a few minutes, while she
went to give some last-minute instructions to Muhammad
Ali about, the tea—making him promise, however, to keep
his secret until her return. And when she came back, with
Muhammad Ali and the tea tray in her wake, it occurred to
her that whatever Armand had been saying, he had su
c
ceeded in arousing Jelly
’
s keen interest. There was a tinge
of color in her pallid cheeks and an unusual brightness in
her eyes.

But when Armand, furnished with a cup of tea and a hot
scone, began to unburden himself of his news, her interest deepened into positive excitement, and even Stella was thrilled.

Armand, it seemed, had by no means played the braggart when speaking modestly of his expectations. Although
his own parents lived in a very small way in one of the less
fashionable suburbs of Paris, his mother
’
s brother had amassed a large fortune in the silk industry and, being a childless widower, had made Armand his sole heir.

“I was always so terrified the old chap would marry again and produce a string of offspring,” Armand exclaimed, almost jumping around in his jubilation. “Oh, I
know I ought to look doleful and pretend I
’
m sorry he
’
s
gone, but he was such an old misery I can
’
t bring myself to
shed a tear. Besides, I can
’
t help knowing that it was largely to spite his dead wife
’
s relatives that he made me his heir. He didn
’
t like me particularly, but he simply loathed his in-laws.”

“But are you certain he really has left his money to you?” Jelly asked, frowning. “I
’
ve heard of so many people being led up the garden path over wills and legacies.”

Armand, beaming even more radiantly, tapped his breast pocket. “I
’
ve had an official letter from his lawyers,” he told them. “Apparently they were in touch with him, a short time before his death, and he got them to add a couple of codicils dealing with small bequests to business colleagues.”

“And are you really tremendously rich now?” Jelly persisted.

“Oh, I
’
m a millionaire—in francs,
bien entendu
,” was his complacent reply. “Or, rather, I shall be as soon as the formalities are completed.”

“Does that mean you
’
ll be going back to France and running a silk factory?” It was Stella who asked the question.

“I shall return to France, certainly, but as for the silk business, my uncle retired some years ago, so there are no responsibilities attached to the money. It is all invested in government stocks—thank goodness!”

“How will you spend your time?” Stella wanted to know.

“Not in giving French lessons,” he retorted gaily. And then, his exuberance fading a little, he added, “I know that even with much money time may drag, and one may feel very lonely, but if I cannot marry romantically—” and he stared studiously out of the window “—I shall find a good, sensible woman to be my wife. Even the pain of unrequited love would not make me decide to become a sour old bachelor like my poor Uncle Pepi!” A remark that caused Miss Jellings to give a suppressed chuckle, and that—hard as she strove to look solemn—brought
a
flush and a dimple to Stella
’
s cheeks.

Having delivered his news, he would not stay very long. He was still in the raja
’
s employ, he declared, and was required at the
palace for an hour or two. But he hoped most earnestly—and he turned his dark eyes in her direction
—
that Stella would be a sport and come to the club to celebrate.

Stella thought quickly,
perhaps if I go there, I may meet Allegra and discover if she has any idea of behaving decently.
And for once in a way, instead of trying to fin
d
an excuse to refuse the young Frenchman
’
s invitation, she glanced across at Miss Jellings and asked if she might be spared.

The old lady
’
s consent was given with a warmth that almost amounted to fervor; nothing pleased her better, she observed, than that this ridiculously conscientious young creature should be dragged out sometimes and made to enjoy herself. And it was arranged accordingly that Armand should call for Stella at seven o
’
clock and take her to the club for a cocktail or two.

As soon as he left, Stella tried to persuade Miss Jellings to rest; she had had more excitement that day, Stella pointed out, than for many days past. But Jelly refused, with unusual obstinacy to obey her nurse; she had something serious to say, she declared, and would not be able to rest until she had got it off her chest.

“It
’
s about Armand,” she remarked, when she had at last induced Stella to settle down in a chair near the bed, and listen to her. “He
’
s been telling me, as I gather he
’
s already told you on several occasions, that he
’
s extremely anxious to marry you.”

“Oh, he thinks he
’
s in love with me.” Stella
’
s voice was a little impatient. “But as I
’
ve told you before, Jelly, I simply can
’
t take Armand seriously. Apart from the fact that I
’
m not in the least attracted to him, I always feel—absurd as it may be—that he
’
s years younger than myself, instead of older.”

Jelly looked troubled. “I don
’
t like to see you throwing away such good chances of settling down,” she said. “You
’
ve turned Roger Fendish down—and he
’
s one in a thousand, that man—because of some mysterious barrier.
You
’
re not going to tell me that there
’
s any strange reason
why you and Armand—”

“Heavens, no!” Stella exclaimed. And then she went on very quietly, “Don
’
t you see, Jelly, that it
’
s because I
’
m so
terribly fond of Roger that no other man has the slightest chance of making me care for him? I
’
m well aware that Armand is an attractive person, although he leaves me stone-cold.”

“He
’
d make quite a good husband,” Miss Jellings told her meditatively. “He
’
s a bit on the shallow side, but the right sort of wife would develop his better qualities and whittle down his bad ones. After all, he
’
s a kind soul, and he
’
s blessed with that gift of the fairies, a fine sense of humor.”

“I know all that, Jelly, dear, but it
’
s no use.” Just for a second Stella played with the idea of telling Miss Jellings that she was harboring a faint hope now that the way might after all be made clear for her to marry Roger. But she decided against it. Allegra was far too uncertain a quantity, and it would be cruel to raise Jelly
’
s spirits, only to dash them again in a few hours
’
time.

“Perhaps if y
o
u were to see him under different conditions, and a thousand miles or so away from Roger, you might think more of Armand,” Miss Jellings went on stubbornly. “Suppose, for instance, we were to arrange to travel back to Europe on the same ship! I
’
m sure he
’
d be very ready to delay his journey, if he saw any chance of that.”

“What a matchmaker you are, darling!” Stella was smiling a little. “You don
’
t seem to like the idea of my going on with my nursing career once we
’
re back in England.”

“No, I don
’
t,” Jelly retorted bluntly. “I let my profession take first place in my life—and look at me now, a lonely old woman with neither chick nor child. I
’
d hate you to make the same mistake, and what is more, I
’
d like to be sure you weren
’
t going to make it before—well, before this tired and ancient body of mine gives up the ghost.”

“Jelly, don
’
t talk like that.” The tears sprang into Stella
’
s eyes. “You
’
re good for years and years yet, and I
’
m going on as your nurse-secretary until you give me the sack.”

A look of great weariness crept into Jelly
’
s face, but she managed to achieve her cheery smile. “You
’
re a silly child,” she said. “However, I
’
ve said my say, and if you want me to lie flat now and rest, frankly I won
’
t be sorry to do so.”

There was no question of dining at the club; as yet no facilities existed for providing meals of any kind. But it was already becoming a regular habit of the English folk in and around Ghasirabad to drop in toward half-past six fo
r
a short drink, and Stella felt pretty sure of running into Allegra, who adored opportunities of showing off the attractive little dresses she had brought from home.

As it turned out, she was one of the first people Stella saw. She was sitting alone in a corner of the bar, toying with a drink and making a brief excuse to Armand that she wanted to have a private word with Allegra, Stella slipped
over and asked her, rather lamely she felt, how she was getting on.