Part 1 (2/2)
Mariana laid down her fork. ”Uncle Adrian, there is no need to remind me-”
”You are the only eligible Englishwoman in Afghanistan, and since young Lieutenant Fitzgerald may be coming tomorrow-”
”Fitzgerald?” Aunt Claire's pudgy face turned radiant. ”If there is the slightest chance Lieutenant Fitzgerald will be at the horse race tomorrow,” she announced, ”then I would not miss it for Aunt Claire's pudgy face turned radiant. ”If there is the slightest chance Lieutenant Fitzgerald will be at the horse race tomorrow,” she announced, ”then I would not miss it for all the world. all the world.”
”I AM looking forward to my first public appearance,” Lady Macnaghten confided as she and Mariana perched together on a sofa in the Residence's sitting room. ”I shall wear my blue watered-silk, and a few feathers. As my husband is to be seated in the royal enclosure with the Shah,” she added with a little sigh, ”I shall have to manage without him.”
Mariana smiled politely. What time was it? How long would she have to listen to Lady Macnaghten talk about herself?
As if she had heard Mariana's thoughts, Lady Macnaghten leaned toward her, close enough to reveal a few faint lines around her eyes. ”Lieutenant Fitzgerald has returned from Kandahar,” she whispered meaningfully. ”I have told him that he must on no account miss the race meeting. You must therefore look your very very best. I am sending Vijaya to you this afternoon.” best. I am sending Vijaya to you this afternoon.”
Fitzgerald. The person Mariana most dreaded seeing. If the lieutenant came tomorrow, her appearance would be the very least of her worries. ”That is very kind of you, Lady Macnaghten,” she demurred. ”But I am sure I shall manage perfectly well.” The person Mariana most dreaded seeing. If the lieutenant came tomorrow, her appearance would be the very least of her worries. ”That is very kind of you, Lady Macnaghten,” she demurred. ”But I am sure I shall manage perfectly well.”
”Perfectly well will not not be good enough.” Lady Macnaghten waved a manicured hand. ”Your hair and skin are dry. You have let yourself go entirely since we left India. When Vijaya is done,” she added confidently, ”you will look as pretty as you did then. And after tomorrow, it will be only a matter of time before Fitzgerald proposes. be good enough.” Lady Macnaghten waved a manicured hand. ”Your hair and skin are dry. You have let yourself go entirely since we left India. When Vijaya is done,” she added confidently, ”you will look as pretty as you did then. And after tomorrow, it will be only a matter of time before Fitzgerald proposes.
”And of course,” she added, ignoring Mariana's stricken face, ”I shall not mention this to a soul.”
Mariana got hastily to her feet. ”Thank you so much, Lady Macnaghten,” she said firmly, ”but I must leave. I fear my aunt is waiting for me.”
Proposes. If Lady Macnaghten, or the British community, learned the truth about her marriage to Ha.s.san, they would stop forcing her on Harry Fitzgerald. If Lady Macnaghten, or the British community, learned the truth about her marriage to Ha.s.san, they would stop forcing her on Harry Fitzgerald.
If they knew, they would never speak to her again.
Two hours later, she sat at a makes.h.i.+ft dressing table in her bedroom, a towel about her shoulders while Lady Macnaghten's silent, sari-clad maid combed henna paste through her hair.
Only Lady Macnaghten, who herself made good use of Indian beauty tricks, had noticed Mariana's transformation after her visit to Lah.o.r.e, from clumsy English girl to elegantly cared-for native wife. She alone had seen that transformation fade, then disappear, on the journey from Lah.o.r.e.
Mariana did not need to look in her hand gla.s.s to know how much she had changed since her arrival in India three years earlier.
On that first day, twenty years old, pink-cheeked and clumsy, she had flung herself into Aunt Claire's arms, certain she would be married to a handsome English officer before a year had pa.s.sed. Young, and optimistic, she had believed she had nothing to lose.
But she had lost, then lost again, and with each failure she had given up a little more of her innocence about herself.
Her face had thinned a little in that time, and her rosy cheeks had turned to ivory, but her skin already felt smooth from Vijaya's efforts, and after a tortuous session with a cat's-cradle of twisted string, her brows now formed graceful arches over her eyes. The henna would tame her curls, and make them s.h.i.+ne.
By the time Vijaya left, Mariana would, ironically, look once again like Ha.s.san's wife.
Of course, myopic Aunt Claire would be unlikely to notice any of these changes. Only yesterday, as she poked fretfully through her jewelry, she had listed the same tired complaints she always made concerning her niece's looks and deportment.
”I hope you will listen to me this time,” she had warned. ”As you are about to make an entirely undeserved new start in British society in Kabul, you must rein in your outspoken manner. Cultivate demureness. And for goodness sake do something about that huge, unfas.h.i.+onable smile of yours.”
Mariana had sighed as her aunt swept from the room. The new start that Aunt Claire referred to was more than undeserved. It was a sham.
Three weeks after she had taken painful leave of the unconscious Ha.s.san, his luminous little son and his fascinating family and joined Lady Macnaghten's traveling party, Mariana had gathered her courage and swept into her uncle's tent. Expecting no sympathy from her cholera-ridden uncle or his exhausted wife, she had gone straight to the point.
”I must tell you,” she had blurted out, without any softening preamble, ”that I did not divorce Shaikh Waliullah's son while I was in Lah.o.r.e. He may have divorced me me since then, but I do not believe he has.” since then, but I do not believe he has.”
As she spoke, she had reached up and touched the bodice of her gown. Under the fabric, her searching fingers found the gold medallion the wounded Ha.s.san had sent after her, carried by the courier Ghulam Ali.
A wavering note had accompanied his gift. For my wife For my wife, it had read.
Giddy with happiness, she had sent Ha.s.san a pa.s.sionate, gus.h.i.+ng letter of thanks. In the five weeks since then, he had not replied.
”He might also,” she had added, her voice dropping, ”have died.”
Uncle Adrian's face had changed color. ”You never never divorced that man, after all the trouble we went to?” he had croaked from his pillows. divorced that man, after all the trouble we went to?” he had croaked from his pillows.
”I tried, Uncle Adrian, I really did. There was fighting in the city and my husband was constantly-”
”Never mind 'fighting in the city,' ” Aunt Claire cut in from her folding chair. ”For the past weeks you have led us to believe that all was accomplished, that you were free to marry an Englishman once we reached Afghanistan. You have lied to us You have lied to us, Mariana.”
”I merely avoided the truth. Uncle Adrian has been so ill. I did not wish to burden you with more than-”
”I should have insisted.” Aunt Claire's chins wobbled with outrage. ”I should have questioned you as soon as you returned from the city.” Her eyes narrowed. ”Mariana, I demand to know the truth. Did you ruin yourself while you were there? Did you allow your native husband to take liberties with you at his father's house?” Did you allow your native husband to take liberties with you at his father's house?”
”Please, Claire. Adil is here.” Uncle Adrian signaled to the elderly manservant who hovered, fascinated, near the doorway of the tent.
”I allowed nothing,” Mariana snapped, as soon as the servant had gone. ”With Lah.o.r.e under attack, there simply was no time for a divorce. Besides, my husband was wounded during the battle at the Citadel.”
”But we told you a thousand times that your one one chance at happiness depended upon the dissolution of that hateful native alliance of yours. Even with your uncle half-dead with cholera I should never have trusted you. My mother-in-law,” Aunt Claire said cruelly, ”told me chance at happiness depended upon the dissolution of that hateful native alliance of yours. Even with your uncle half-dead with cholera I should never have trusted you. My mother-in-law,” Aunt Claire said cruelly, ”told me never never to trust a woman with green eyes. Everyone thinks you are free now,” she added mournfully. ”Lady Macnaghten has told me herself that Lieutenant Fitzgerald is waiting anxiously for you in Kabul.” to trust a woman with green eyes. Everyone thinks you are free now,” she added mournfully. ”Lady Macnaghten has told me herself that Lieutenant Fitzgerald is waiting anxiously for you in Kabul.”
She found her handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. ”Why ”Why do you do these things? do you do these things? What What will your mother say? I promised her I would look after you-” will your mother say? I promised her I would look after you-”
”Why should we tell anyone?” Uncle Adrian interrupted. ”People will not talk about something they do not know.”
”Oh, but they will, Adrian, they will! will! But wait-” Aunt Claire's tired face had brightened. ”Perhaps you are right.” But wait-” Aunt Claire's tired face had brightened. ”Perhaps you are right.”
”Aunt Claire. I-”
”No, Mariana. You must listen to us. That native wedding of yours was a fraud from the beginning-nothing but mumbo jumbo recited outside a tent by a native in a headdress. Since you were never really married, there is no need for a divorce. We shall go on exactly as we had planned,” she concluded firmly, holding up a silencing hand when Mariana tried to speak. ”No one ”No one is to learn what you have told us. They must continue to believe your marriage has been dissolved. As far as we are concerned is to learn what you have told us. They must continue to believe your marriage has been dissolved. As far as we are concerned you are free to wed an Englishman.” you are free to wed an Englishman.”
After leaving them, Mariana had stopped outside, straining to hear what her aunt would say next, then jumped back, stung by what she heard, and furious with herself for listening.
”Nothing would make me happier,” her aunt had declared, ”than to learn that the man is dead.”
Three weeks later the camp had folded its many tents and set off for the Khyber Pa.s.s and the journey into Afghanistan.
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