The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [125]
The verandah chik had no sooner dropped into place behind the departing khidmatgar than George leant forward, and laying his folded arms on the table, dropped his head onto them and burst into tears.
Ash retired precipitately to the dusty compound where a solitary neem tree provided an oasis of shade in the mid-day glare. He would have liked to walk back to the Club, but he could not bring himself to abandon George at this particular juncture, even though he was by now fairly certain that the cause of both drunkenness and grief must be Belinda's engagement, and he was no longer sure that he wanted to hear what George had to say on the subject. He sat down on a root of the neem tree, feeling angry with himself and angrier with George, and waited. The harsh, gulping sobs were not a pleasant sound to listen to, but they stopped at last and he heard George blow his nose and stumble away to the bedroom where, judging from the noise of splashing, he appeared to be emptying the contents of the water chatti over his head.
Ash rose and came back to his chair on the verandah, and presently George reappeared wearing a towel around his shoulders and with his hair dripping water. He poured himself out a cup of black coffee from the pot that the khidmatgar had left on a tray, and subsided heavily into a sagging cane chair where he sat sipping the hot liquid and looking utterly demoralized. There seemed to be nothing left of the talkative and bumptious young man who for over a year had been such a success at tea-parties and Club dances. Even his good looks had vanished, for his pallid face was puffy and unshaven and his eyes red with weeping, while his sodden hair had lost its Byronic curls and straggled limply down his neck and forehead.
Confronted by this spectacle Ash's irritation became diluted with sympathy, and resigning himself to the role of confidant and comforter, he got up and helped himself to coffee and said with an effort: ‘You'd better tell me about it. I suppose it's this engagement.’
‘What engagement?’ asked George tonelessly.
Ash's heart gave a leap that set his pulses racing, and the coffee slopped all over the floor. So he had been right after all. Mrs Harlowe had lied to him, and it wasn't true.
‘Belinda's of course. I thought that was why – I mean…’ He was incoherent with relief. ‘I'd heard she was engaged to be married.’
‘Oh that,’ said George, dismissing it as something of no account.
‘Then it isn't true? Her mother said –’
‘It wasn't really her,’ gulped George. ‘She – Mrs Harlowe – tried to be nice about it, I think. She really did like me, you know. But Belinda… I – I wouldn't have believed that anyone… no, that isn't true; I suppose it was just because I did believe it that I tried to keep it quiet. I should have known that someone would find out one day.’
‘Find out what? What the blazes are you mumbling about, George? Is she engaged or isn't she?’
‘Who? Oh, Belinda. Yes. They got engaged after the Bachelors' Ball, I believe. Look, Ash, do you mind if I talk to you about something? You see, I don't know what to do. Whether to stick it out, or give in my notice and quit, or… I can't stay on here. I won't. I'd – I'd rather shoot myself. She'll tell everyone – she's started already. Didn't you see the way they were all staring at me and whispering at the Club this morning? You must have noticed. And it will get worse. Much worse. I don't think I can –’
But Ash was not listening. He had put down his cup with a hand that was noticeably unsteady and now he sat down with some suddenness. He did not want to hear anything more or to talk to anyone. Not to George, anyway. And yet…
He said abruptly: ‘But that can't be true. The Bachelors' Ball was right at the beginning of the month. That's nearly six weeks ago, and I've seen her since then. I had tea with her, and if it was true she would have told me then. Or her mother would. Or someone.’
‘They didn't want to announce it too soon. They kept it quiet until his new appointment came through – I suppose it sounded grander