Alice and I bought some Bokhara silk, which we thought amazingly cheap and which was very beautiful. Mine was blue and pale mauve, Alice's biscuit colour. Lavinia had said that my clothes were awful and that there was a very good darzi who made up materials with speed and efficiency at a very low price. She would help me to choose a style that would suit me and he would be only too pleased to come to the house. All the Europeans used him; all one had to do was tell him what was wanted. He could be paid the price he asked without the usual native haggle. Praise meant as much to him as the money.
Lavinia took quite an interest in my appearance; she was enthusiastic about my clothes. I felt she had some motive. Lavinia, I believed, would always have a motive.
She moved in an Army and Company set, for these two appeared to work closely together. The Company was more than just a trading company. It was part of the government of the country, it seemed, and the Army was there to support it. It stood for British interests in India.
Lavinia was contented, and that meant something. I was certain she had a lover. I had come to realize that Lavinia was the sort of woman who must always have a lover. Admiration and what she would call love were essential to her. She attracted men without even trying and when she did try the effect was great. I had intercepted glances between her and a certain Major Pennington Brown. He was a man in his early forties with a mouse of a wife who, I imagined, at one time had thought him wonderful. Perhaps she no longer did. I thought him rather foppish and affected, but he certainly was handsome.
I tackled Lavinia about him. She said, "Oh, spying already, are you?"
"No great effort was needed. I just assumed there was an intrigue in progress. I know the signs. They haven't changed much since your French Comte put in his untimely appearance."
"Garry is rather sweet and he absolutely dotes on me."
So Major Pennington Brown was Garry!
"I am sure his wife agrees with you."
"She's a poor little thing."
"Evidently he didn't think so once. He must have found her attractive to have married her."
"Her fortune was very attractive."
"I see. And you find such conduct 'rather sweet'?"
"Now please don't take up that tone. Remember ..."
"I am the servant. Very well ..."
"Hush! Hush! I shall certainly not allow you to go home in high dudgeon ... whatever that is. I like Garry if you don't, and why shouldn't he find me attractive?"
"As he is looking for just a light love affair, I suppose he would."
"Just a light love affair! Don't speak so slightingly of such a delightful occupation. What do you know of light love affairs?"
"Nothing, and never want to."
"Oh, we are so virtuous, are we?"
"We are not stupid, if that's what you mean."
"Well, I think you are if you refuse to indulge in what is really a great pleasure." Her eyes narrowed. "I'll make you change your mind one day ... you see."
Now I knew what she was planning for me. She wanted me to find someone among that social circle of hers, someone with whom I should have a light love affair. She wanted someone to giggle with, to share chat of our experiences. I could not really think why Lavinia would be so eager to have me here when she could find so many Army or Company wives who would much more suitably fill her need for companionship.
I did not like her circle of friends; they seemed to me superficial and not very interesting. But I enjoyed my sessions with Louise, who was a delightful child, interested in the picture books I had brought with me. She liked me to tell her simple stories, and when I came into the nursery she would hurry to me and bury her head in my skirts in enthusiastic welcome. Already I loved the child.
The ayah would sometimes sit watching us, nodding her head and smiling. Our love for Louise had made a bond between us.
It was in the gardens that I came upon her on one occasion. I had a feeling that she had followed me from the house and had chosen a suitable moment to speak to me.
There was a gazebo in the gardens—a favourite spot of mine. It looked over a beautiful lawn, in the centre of which was a spreading banyan tree.
She approached me and said, "Please ... may I talk?"
"Of course," I replied. "Do sit down. Isn't it beautiful here? How lovely that tree is ... and the grass is so green."
"Much rain make it so."
"Do you want to talk about Louise?"
She nodded.
"She loves to learn," I said. "It is a joy to teach her. I think she is an enchanting little girl."
"She is to me ... my own baby."
"Yes," I said. "I know."
"And now ..."
"Are you afraid that now the nanny is here you will be sent away?"
She looked at me with wide, piteous eyes. "Louise ..." she said, "is like my baby ... I do not want to lose."
I took her hand and pressed it. "I understand," I told her.
"Missie Alice ... she new nanny. Poor ayah ... no more."
"The children love you," I said.
A smile spread across her face, but the sorrow returned.
"I will be told," she said. "I will be told ... go."
"And that would make you very sad."
"Very sad," she repeated.
"Why do you tell me? Do you think I could change this?"
She nodded.
"Memsahib Countess like you very much. She listen. She is very happy you come. All the time say, 'Where is Missie Drusilla?' " She pointed at me. "You listen ... but she not listen. I think she will say Go."
"I tell you what I'll do. I will speak to her. I will tell her how the children love you. I will say it is best that you stay."
Her smile was dazzling. She stood up, put her hands together and bowed her head as though in prayer. Then she moved gracefully away, leaving me staring at the banyan tree but seeing nothing but the ayah coming to the house, taking over the care of Louise, growing to love the child, being excited at the prospect of another child, and in due course giving the same devotion to Alan. And then all this love and care was to be terminated because of Lady Harriet's whim. Lady Harriet knew nothing of the true circumstances here and would not understand the love that could exist between an Indian nurse and her English charges.
I took the first opportunity to speak to Lavinia. She was taking a rest before preparing for the evening, which would be a gathering of friends before dinner. I had been present on several of these occasions, where she graciously introduced me as her friend from England. I had been quizzed by the men, who might have thought I would be an easy conquest, but the effort of attempting my seduction must have seemed hardly worthwhile to them; and when it was discovered that I was the governess, brought into contact with them through the generosity of Lavinia, I was more or less politely ignored. These sessions had become ones which I wanted to avoid whenever possible.
She was lying on her bed, pads of cotton wool over her eyes.
"Lavinia," I said, "I want to have a word with you."
"Didn't they tell you I was resting?"
"Yes, but I came all the same."
"Something important?" She lifted the cotton wool from her right eye and looked at me.
"Very important."
"Do tell me. You've changed your mind and want to come to the party? All right. Wear the mauve Bokhara. It's the best thing you have."
"It is not that. How many servants do you employ here?"
"What a question to ask me! Ask Khansamah. He's the one who would know."
"So many that one makes little or no difference."
"I suppose you are right."
"I wanted to speak to you about the ayah."
"What about her? She'll be going soon."