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Authors: Valerie Fitzgerald

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‘Oh, look!’ Connie broke into our private confabulation. ‘Here’s a whole tray of champagne. I declare I could do with something to freshen my spirits a little. Wally and Charles are so naughty to leave us all alone; we’ll just have to signal for some ourselves.’ And she stood up and waved her moth-eaten ostrich fan at the resplendent scarlet-and-gold minion who bore the tray. The champagne was iced and entirely delectable at that unhappy moment. Even Emily cheered up as she sipped it, and we all became more animated, despite the horrid dearth of male company. I felt, wrongly, no doubt, that every eye was upon our curious little knot of ill-assorted women, and that everyone wondered why we were not taking a more active part in the jollifications, so that when at last the men rejoined us to take us into supper, I was so relieved I almost forgave them their neglect.

Our absence from the dance floor had meant that my programme remained unfilled, and I was chagrined at the prospect of going into supper without a supporting male arm. But luck was with me. Captain Fanning, seeing me unattached as we crossed the lawn to the Banqueting Hall where the supper was laid, joyfully demanded the honour of waiting upon me. His relief in finding a lady unbooked for the supper dance to escort was equalled only by mine in being escorted.

The Banqueting Hall comprised the lower portion of a long, arcaded building of two storeys, the upper floor, so Captain Fanning informed me, being guest rooms for important visitors. The long chamber was crowded to suffocation, and almost as we entered we lost sight of the others in our party, but Captain Fanning, fired by the unexpected clemency of the Fates in providing him with a partner, pushed and shoved a way for us through the throng, and found me, to his own obvious surprise, a very pleasant seat beside one of the windows giving on to the wide verandah. The window was open, and the soft night air, laden with the scent of trampled grass, damp earth, night-blooming flowers and the musky smell of the river, was grateful to my flushed cheeks and exacerbated temper.

What a fiasco the whole affair had proved! I was so sure I would enjoy this ball, and yet I had danced only once. I was almost in a mood to indulge in sententious reflections on the vanity of life, so when Captain Fanning left to fetch me something to eat, I was glad of the resulting solitude which would allow me to compose myself. I leant my head against the window frame and, opening my fan, looked out to the brightly lit windows of the Residency across the lawn, and beyond it to the indigo sky set now with stars and a sickle moon.

Behind me the babble of conversation and laughter, the clink of glasses and cutlery, faded as I turned my head and attention away and became engrossed in my own discontented musings. But after a short interval my mind was brought suddenly back to the present by the sound of two male voices talking desultorily in the semi-gloom of the verandah just outside my field of vision.

‘… nothing of much significance in its own right, but put the lot together and I believe we have an indication of what is in the native mind.’

A deep, pleasant voice this, speaking in a tone of decision. I began to listen consciously.

‘Hm. We are aware of something like it here too, among the men. A sense of unease more than anything else. Not troublesome, but disturbing, at least to those of us to whom the
Baba-log
are capable of normal, human reactions.’

This second voice was precise in diction and pitched in a higher key than the other. It was not hard to guess it belonged to a military man.

‘To my way of thinking, it is only a matter of time before the whole situation boils over,’ said the deep voice.

‘You croak like a raven.’

‘Perhaps, but that is what I believe, and I also believe that we don’t have much time. Anything could start it off. All that is needed is a focal point, some cause common to the lot of them.’

‘Nothing can be common to all in this country.’

‘What about a grievance?’ the first man asked thoughtfully. ‘And, good God, I’d have thought they had enough of those already. Every section of the population in this province has enough of the sort of grievance that should send a government toppling; that would in a European country.’

‘Oh, come now, my dear chap, surely that’s a little extreme? A certain amount of disaffection due to annexation is inevitable. But what alternative was there, after all?’

‘It’s a lot more than “disaffection”. Annexation was an injustice to every man in the kingdom, one way or the other. In the
mofussil
the
talukhdars
are virtually dispossessed or labouring under crippling difficulties. Damn it all, it’s not only their prerogatives but their livelihood that that fool Thomason with his reforms and his notions on equitable settlement would take from them. And the villager is no better off for the dubious privilege of now owning his own land—the revenue bands see to that. With their guns and flaming torches, their methods of extortion are a damn sight worse than any
talukhdar
’s, and they give no protection in return, as the
talukhdars
did. Truth is, they go in fear of their lives from the city magistrates themselves. And here in the city—well, you can see for yourself—the people are crawling with poverty, and not only the lower, helpless castes and classes either. We have exiled their fool of a king and yes, I know, I know, he was corrupt and dissolute and had been given ample warning of the measures that would be taken against him. But who amongst his people believed that we had the right to dispossess him, however he behaved? But what has happened to his family, his retainers, his army, his squads of useless officials? They are still there, in that city below us, begging their bread because Lord Dalhousie omitted to realize that they too are human. They still have to live somewhere, to eat sometimes, but Lord Dalhousie forgot them, as the populace among whom they drag out their miserable existence cannot forget them, or ignore their indignities, or overlook the contemptuous manner in which they have been jettisoned!’

‘True, unfortunately true,’ agreed the soldier. ‘It was a most ill-advised move.’

‘Ill-advised! Criminal folly! Short-sighted stupidity!’ I liked the vehemence of the deep voice.

‘And, my God, what have they done with Wajid Ali’s army? Disbanded some to swell the want in the villages, and enlisted the rest in our own ranks!’

‘Surely that at least was constructive?’

‘Surely!’ The voice now was heavy with sarcasm. ‘It’s always possible to serve two masters, and in military matters no doubt desirable. Not a year ago those sepoys out there were lounging about the Hazrat Ganj, out of elbow, unpaid, but nevertheless part of the forces of their rightful king. They are not going to forget that when trouble comes; they will be in no two minds as to where their loyalties lie. But we, we British—almost, Cussens, I am impelled to say
you
British—expect those loyalties, the loyalties of a lifetime, to be overlaid by an extra shilling a month, which, I am told, is all they get in the way of benefit from us.’

‘Well—yes. I must admit your point.’ The military voice was a hint impatient. ‘But damn it all, man, it’s not as though these things aren’t realized in Calcutta.’

‘If they were realized, why were they permitted?’

‘I feel you take too gloomy a view of the whole situation.’

‘Easy enough to feel
that
living here in your smug little world of perfunctory parades, balls and tea-drinkings with the ladies. Things are otherwise where I am, Cussens; I cannot overlook the obvious.’

‘What brought you in anyway? You don’t often honour us with your presence.’

‘Oh, you could call it a family matter. But I had ignored so many invitations that I felt I had better make an obeisance to Mammon in the form of our revered Chief Commissioner.’

‘Damn fellow is going shortly, so rumour has it.’

‘Thank God for small mercies, eh?’

‘Precisely.’ And the two men laughed together in a manner which indicated a long and comfortable acquaintance. There was a pause in the conversation.

Presently, as I waited unashamedly to hear more, the deep voice came from another angle. The man must have moved over to a further window, and from what followed was standing looking in at the supper room.

‘Come here a moment, Cussens. Look, and tell me what you see.’

There was the creak of a cane chair and a pause as ‘Cussens’ made his way over to the window.

‘See? Why, a very jolly occasion, surely. People enjoying themselves, all that.’

‘And I see emotion.’

‘Don’t know what you’re driving at, old man. Know you don’t care for the ladies yourself, but surely men have a right to have their wives and daughters with them?’

‘Every right. No doubt about that, unfortunately. It’s the consequences of that right that I am thinking of. If there is going to be any form of trouble, and you and I are both agreed that trouble of some sort must come, those females in there are going to complicate matters no end. When men kill men, it’s merely war. But when men kill women, well—it becomes martyrdom, massacre and mayhem, and everything gets out of proportion.’

‘Oh, come now. I cannot let you away with that. I agree that the province is unquiet and there may be trouble of some sort, but really that’s a very different thing to expecting war, or any sort of organized violence. That I do not expect, and I cannot have you running off with the idea that I do.’

‘Well, I must hope that you are right and I am wrong. But mark my words, if things do develop in the direction I believe they are going, all those white doll-faces in there, with their ridiculous garments and absurd airs, are going to be no joke. Deuce take it, don’t you see you have too many of ’em?’

‘As a matter of fact, none of them are “mine”,’ the soldier said acidly.

‘What does that matter, when it is
you
who will pay the piper for them anyway?’

‘I believe, my dear chap, that you are more worried on your own behalf than on mine! Now what you should do is settle yourself up with a nice young girl while you are in Lucknow, and then I’ll wager I’d hear no more nonsense from you about there being too many of our females with us!’

‘Cussens, Cussens, don’t you know me yet? And to think that you and I have run the gauntlet of matrimony successfully, neck and neck, for so many years …’

‘Ah, but I thank heavens I’m too old, but you …’ And they moved away chuckling amicably together so that I could hear no more.

But I was left with a vivid recollection of Mr Roberts and his explanation of the uneasy state of Oudh. He, too, according to Mr Chalmers, had ‘croaked like a raven’, and when Captain Fanning returned to me with two laden plates, I found it difficult to keep my mind on what he was saying as I tried to remember exactly what Mr Roberts had told me. The man with the deep voice had echoed most faithfully his general sentiments, of that I had no doubt, and a small chill of fear ran up the back of my neck as I recalled the words: ‘When men kill women … it’s martyrdom, massacre and mayhem!’

CHAPTER 13

When we had eaten, the Barrys, the Floods, Captain Fanning and I sauntered for a while through the Residency gardens to refresh ourselves after the hot and overcrowded supper room. As we paused to admire the pale moonlight on the river, or exchange a few words with acquaintances, I kept a sharp lookout for two gentlemen who would match my mysterious voices on the verandah. The trees were hung with coloured lanterns, small saucer lamps outlined arches and window-frames of the buildings, and these, together with the moonlight, made it possible to remark features even at some distance, but no group we approached included the sort of masculine forms I could imagine speaking in the voices I had so unscrupulously overheard.

Emily was extraordinarily subdued and Charles, though I knew how well he must be aware of her mood, made no effort to draw his wife into the general conversation. Kate and I worked hard to rouse her to some enjoyment of the scene, but she answered us in monosyllables, and averted her head whenever Charles raised his voice. In such company it was difficult to find protracted enjoyment even in the very real beauties of the night: the still sheen on the scimitar-curve of the river, broad and scarcely rippling below us; the magnificent Indian sky overcrowded with stars; and, not far away, the buildings of the city, a mass of tumbled cubes, domes, cylinders and pyramids, untidy as a child’s neglected building blocks, a turmoil of dense, dark forms against the violet night. I was relieved when at length we turned indoors so that Emily and Charles could make their adieux before leaving. As Charles had suggested, I was to follow later with the Averys.

There were fewer couples dancing now, and we had no difficulty in making our way through the rooms in search of Mr Jackson and Mr and Mrs Gubbins, but, not finding them, Charles decided to look through the smaller rooms where cards and billiards were available, and left us. Captain Fanning, having understood that I did not care to dance while Emily only looked on, departed, after many expressions of undying devotion, to seek further prey, and the rest of us grouped ourselves near an archway where we could watch the dancing without being too conspicuous ourselves. Just off the room in which we stood was a smaller apartment, empty at this hour of all but two or three tired yet vigilant servants.

I did not like the look of Emily. She was too quiet altogether, though her foot was tapping, not in time to the music but in anger, and her lips were compressed almost painfully in her set, withdrawn face. I could see rebellion building by the moment, so was unsurprised when suddenly she flicked shut her fan and announced, ‘I am going to dance! I don’t care what Charles says, or what anyone else says, I am not going home without a dance. Just one. If I let him dictate to me now, he will bully me all the rest of my life!’

‘He doesn’t mean to dictate, Emily,’ I began, in what I hoped was the voice of sweet reason. ‘He’s only concerned with your good.’

‘Well then, he should want to see me happy,’ she snapped. Indignation made her speak louder than her wont; two or three officers, speaking to a soberly coated civilian with his back towards us, looked round curiously, then turned hastily away again as they saw I was aware of their interest.

BOOK: Zemindar
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