CHAPTER II_Mr. Charles Stayne-Brooker (or Herr Karl Stein-Brücker)_
When it was known in the cantonment of Hazarigurh that Major HughWalsingham Greene was engaged to Dolly Dennison, folk were astonished,and a not uncommon comment was “Poor old Walsingham Greene,” in spite ofthe fact that the young lady was very beautiful, accomplished andfascinating.
Here also another remark, that was frequently heard, was that oppositesattract, for Dolly was known to be seventeen, and the Major, though notvery much more than twice her age, looked as old as her father, theSessions Judge, and _he_ looked more like the girl’s grandfather than herfather.
It was agreed, however, that it was no case of kidnapping, for Dolly knewher way about, knew precisely how many beans made five, and needed noteaching from her grandmother as to the sucking of eggs, or anythingelse. For Dolly, poor child, had put her hair up and “come out” at theage of fifteen—in an Indian cantonment!
Little more need be said to excuse almost anything she might do or be.Motherless, she had run her father’s hospitable house for the last twoyears, as well as her weak and amiable father; and when Major WalsinghamGreene came to Hazarigurh he found this pitiable spoilt child (a childwho had never had any childhood) the _burra mem-sahib_ of the place, invirtue of her position as the head of the household of the SeniorCivilian. With the manners, airs, and graces of a woman of thirty, shewas a blasé and world-weary babe—“fed up” with dances, gymkhanas, gardenparties, race meetings and picnics; and as experienced and cool a hand ata flirtation as any garrison-hack or station-belle in the country. Dollyknew the men with whom one flirts but does not marry, and the men onemarries but with whom one does not flirt.
Mr. Charles Stayne-Brooker was the pride of the former; Major WalsinghamGreene _facile princeps_ of the latter. Charles was the loveliest,daringest, wickedest flirt you _ever_—and Hugh was a man of means andposition, with an old Tudor “place” in Dorset. So Charles for fun—andHugh for matrimony, just as soon as he suggested it. She hoped Hughwould be quick, too, for Charles had a terrible fascination and powerover her. She had been frightened at herself one moonlight picnic,frightened at Charles’s power and her own feelings—and she feared theresult if Hugh (who was most obviously of a coming-on disposition),dallied and doubted. If Hugh were not quick, Charles would get her—forshe preferred volcanoes to icebergs, and might very easily forget herworldly wisdom and be carried off her feet some night, as she lurked in a_kala jugga_ with the daring, darling wicked Charles—whose little fingerwas more attractive and mysterious than the Major’s whole body.Besides—the Major was a grey-haired widower, with a boy at school inEngland and _so_ dull and prosperous. . . .
But, ere too late, the Major proposed and was accepted. Charles was, oraffected to be, ruined and broken-hearted, and the wedding took place.The Major was like a boy again—for a little while. And Dolly felt like agirl taken from an hotel in Mentone and immured in a convent in Siberia.
For Major Hugh Walsingham Greene would have none of the “goings-on” thathad made Dolly’s father’s bungalow the centre of life and gaiety for thesubalterns and civilian youth of Hazarigurh; whilst Mr. CharlesStayne-Brooker, whom he detested as a flamboyant bounder, he cut dead.He also bade Dolly remove the gentleman’s name finally and completelyfrom her visiting-list, and on no account be “at home” when he called.All of which Dolly quite flatly and finally refused to do.
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Mr. Charles Stayne-Brooker (or the Herr Doktor Karl Stein-Brücker, as hewas at other times and in other places) was a very popular personwherever he went—and he went to an astonishing number of places. It waswonderful how intimate he became with people, and he became intimate withan astonishing number and variety of people. He could sing, play, dance,ride and take a hand at games above the average, and _talk_—never wassuch a chatter-box—on any subject under the sun, especially on himselfand his affairs. And yet, here again, it was astonishing how little hesaid, with all his talk and ingenious chatter. Everybody knew all aboutdear old Charlie—and yet, did they know anything at all when it came tothe point? In most of the places in which he turned up, he seemed to bea sort of visiting manager of a business house—generally a famous housewith some such old-fashioned British name as Schneider and Schmidt; MaxEnglebaum and Son; Plügge and Schnadhorst; Hans Wincklestein andGartenmacher; or Grosskopf and Dümmelmann. In out-of-the-way places heseemed to be just a jolly globe-trotter with notions of writing a book onhis jolly trip to India. Evidently he wanted to know something of thenative of India, too, for when not in large commercial centres likeCalcutta, Madras, Bombay or Colombo, he was to be found in cantonmentswhere there were Native Troops. He loved the Native Officer andcultivated him assiduously. He also seemed to love the Bengali amateurpolitician, more than some people do. . . . Often a thoughtful andobservant official was pleased to see an Englishman taking such afriendly interest in the natives, and trying to get to know them well atfirst hand—a thing far too rare. . . .
There were people, however—such as Major Walsingham Greene—who affectedto detect something of a “foreign” flavour about him, and wrote him downas a flashy and bounderish outsider.
Certainly he was a great contrast to the Major, whose clipped moustache,bleak blue eye, hard bronzed face and close-cut hair were as different aspossible from Mr. Stayne-Brooker’s waxed and curled moustache over theripe red mouth; huge hypnotic and strange black eyes; pink and whitepuffy face, and long dark locks. And then again, as has been said, Mr.Stayne-Brooker was only happy when talking, and the Major only happy (ifthen) when silent.
On sight, on principle, and on all grounds, the latter gentleman detestedthe jabbering, affected, over-familiar, foreign-like fellow, and tookgreat pleasure in ordering his bride, on their return from theten-days-leave honeymoon, to cut him dead and cut him out—of her life.
And, alas, his bride seemed to take an even greater pleasure in defyingher husband on this, and certain other, points; in making it clear to himthat she fully and firmly intended “to live her own life” and go her ownway; and in giving copious and convincing proof of the fact that she hadnever known “discipline” yet, and did not intend to make its acquaintancenow.
Whereupon poor Major Walsingham Greene, while remaining the honourable,upright and scrupulous gentleman that he was, exhibited himself theirascible, pompous fool that he also was, and by his stupid andoverbearing conduct, his “_That’s enough_! _Those are my orders_,” andhis hopeless mishandling of the situation, drove her literally into thearms of Mr. Charles Stayne-Brooker, with whom the poor little fooldisappeared like a beautiful dream.
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When his kind heart got the better of his savage wrath and scourgedpride, the Major divorced her, and the Herr Doktor (who particularlyneeded an English wife in his profession of Secret Agent especiallycommissioned for work in the British Empire) married her, broke herheart, dragged her down into the moral slime in which he wallowed, and,on the rare occasions of her revolt and threat to leave him, pointed outthat ladies who were divorced once for leaving their husbands _might_conceivably have some excuse, but that the world had a very hard name forthose who made a habit of it. . . . And then there was her daughter toconsider, too. _His_ daughter, alas! but also hers.
Cupid in Africa Page 2
