Abbeyford Remembered

by Margaret Dickinson

  “Well, since we are in Calcutta, I suppose it’s the East Indian Railway you’re involved with, is that right?” Carrie asked reasonably.

  “Yes, but …”

  “And where is the line from Calcutta going exactly?”

  “Supposed to be westwards over the Ganges plain to Lahore, but …”

  “Then where,” asked his wife calmly, in contrast to Lloyd, who was visibly heated, “is the difficulty?”

  He paced the room. “Oh, ’tis all politics and guarantees and contracts and shareholders – just what I came here to try and escape. The East India Company were on the point of signing contracts with both the East India Railway and the Great India Peninsula Railway – and now what do they tell me?”

  “I have no idea. What?” Carrie asked patiently.

  “There’s been some sort of financial crisis in Britain and revolutions in Europe and the companies cannot find the deposit required before signing the contracts. Then rival companies leap in and investors lose confidence in ours and so,” he shrugged his shoulders, “it looks like another holdup. Oh, I don’t understand it all – ’tis all high finance at government level – I only had to deal with directors of railway boards in England – an’ I could handle them, but here … ’tis out of me hands.” He sat down looking dejected and beaten.

  “Do – do you think Captain Richmond knew this when he suggested you should come here?” she asked carefully.

  Lloyd shook his head. “I don’t suppose so. I reckon he’s genuine enough.”

  Carrie said nothing, but she did not agree with him. She watched Lloyd. Her heart leapt. Perhaps he would be obliged to leave India, to go home, back to England. They had come here to build railways and if there was no railway to build …

  But the irrepressible Irishman would not be deflated for long. Before Carrie could utter any suggestion of her own, he had bounded to his feet again and, his hand on the door, turned to her to say briefly, “But, in the meantime, while all the wrangling goes on, there’s no reason why I can’t be surveying the land and makin’ out me own case, now is there?”

  He was gone, once more bounding with enthusiasm and energy.

  Carrie sighed. It looked as if she must resign herself to life in India for a while yet.

  The months stretched to a year before the contracts were at last signed and work could begin. Lloyd rubbed his hands. “We’re to site the eastern terminal of the railway at Howrah on the west bank of the river Hooghly,” he told Carrie.

  “Really? Why not in Calcutta itself?”

  “It would need an immense bridge from Calcutta across the river – it’s over seventeen hundred feet wide there, even though that’s its narrowest point,” Lloyd explained. “We could hardly begin with such a difficulty after all dis time it’s taken even to get started building the railway.”

  “I suppose not,” she agreed.

  So at last Lloyd was actively employed, though even then the actual construction did not begin until another several months had passed, for the surveying was complicated in view of the nature of the unpredictable terrain and climate. They were hampered by the rains, by flooding, to say nothing of the difficulty in procuring the gang of navvies from the native population and sorting out who would work where and with whom, in view of all the differing religious beliefs and the strange caste system.

  During all this time Captain Richmond was a frequent visitor to the house in Garden Reach where the Fosters continued to stay, though there were periods when he was absent on military matters up-country.

  “Won’t your friend mind us staying here all this time? Where is he?” Carrie asked him.

  The Captain seemed amused. He coughed and then said. “My friend has no need of this accommodation at present and is most happy for you to stay in his house as long as you wish.”

  “Yes – but surely we should be paying him some rent?”

  “My dear Mrs Foster, I – my friend – would not hear of it.”

  Carrie glanced at him curiously. Suddenly she began to doubt the very existence of the mysterious ‘friend’ who owned the property. Wisely, she thought it better not to press the matter further.

  At long last, when they had been in India over two years, the actual construction work began and Carrie found she had to leave the comfortable house and follow her husband alongside the track of the slowly growing railway. But now her itinerant life bore no resemblance to that harsh life in England under her father’s neglectful care. Whenever possible, Lloyd Foster found accommodation for her in proper houses, the homes of people either directly connected with the railway, or at least interested in its growth. If no house were at hand, the camp they set up was like a small village, for not only were there all the railway-workers, but the entourage which Lloyd Foster had collected for himself and his wife, whom he was determined should be treated as a lady, was vast in itself. Carrie laughed at the difference between her life in a mud hut or shack in England to the one here surrounded by servants. But her laughter was tinged with sadness when she thought of the hard life her mother had led, how she had never known such consideration from her husband.

  Carrie’s tent was elaborate, being twenty feet high and twenty feet square, divided into sleeping quarters and living quarters. Meals were served by her servants with the same ritual as if they were in a palace, and at night the whole camp was surrounded by fires to keep away the tigers and other beasts which roamed the jungle.

  Captain Richmond was a frequent visitor to the camp, as he had been to the house in Calcutta.

  “Lloyd is not yet home,” Carrie told the Captain one evening, meeting him at the entrance to the tent. She was determined not to ask him inside, for the silent Indian servants had a habit of disappearing if they thought their mistress had a guest.

  His face was in shadow, but his voice, mocking and yet at the same time challenging, came softly through the darkness. “ Perhaps you would care to take a walk around the camp-site, Mrs Foster?”

  Silently, she put her hand reluctantly upon his arm and he led her away from her tent, towards the camp-fires set at intervals.

  “Ah, what mystery and danger lurks beyond those flames, my dear Mrs Foster.”

  “Indeed, sir!” Mockingly she adopted his own turn of phrase. “There is much to be feared from the wild animal, almost as much as from civilised man!”

  Captain Richmond’s eyes were upon her face illuminated by the flickering firelight. She is the most beautiful, fascinating woman I have ever met, he thought. And her coolness towards me arouses my desire for her all the more. I’d like to crush her in my arms, feel her yield to my will …

  As they walked through the darkness amidst the jungle, he bent towards her. “ You have nothing to fear, my dear Mrs Foster, from any man. All men would fall at your feet. Such beauty as yours demands adoration.”

  “I think you mock me, sir.”

  “Ah, madam, how can you be so cruel? If you were not a married lady, married to a man I most earnestly admire, we would not be walking like two friends, so chaste, so distant.”

  Carrie’s heart beat fearfully. He was hinting at his feelings for her. Yet, instead of being flattered by his words, she felt an icy finger of dread amidst the heat of the jungle. She shivered and Captain Richmond was at once all effusive concern.

  “Mrs Foster, are you cold? I forget my duty. Pray let me put my coat about your shoulders.”

  At once he began to unbutton his scarlet tunic.

  “No, no, I am not cold. It is merely the jungle – the cries of the birds and the monkeys. It seems so frightening here in the darkness.”

  “No – I insist,” he said and draped his jacket about her.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, unable to refuse now. “ Please, will you take me back to my tent now, Captain?”

  Lloyd Foster was waiting at the tent. At the sight of them he started forward. “Carrie – Carrie, my love. Are you all right? What …?”

  “My dear Foster,” the Captain bounded forwar
d. “She is quite safe. We were merely walking when your wife became a little chilled.”

  Lloyd glanced from Carrie to the Captain’s face and back again. “Oh, I see,” he said gruffly, obliged to accept Captain Richmond’s explanation, but Carrie could see the anguish in his eyes, the unspoken question.

  “I will take my leave of you, Mrs Foster.” As she gave him back his coat, the Captain took her hand and raised it again to his lips. “Goodnight – goodnight, Foster.” He disappeared into the darkness.

  As they prepared for sleep that night, Carrie was aware of the feeling of tension between them. At last Lloyd burst out, “ I’m beginning to dislike that fellow, to be sure. I don’t like to see you with him. I don’t – trust him!” He paused and then laughed wryly. “But then, I suppose I don’t trust any man wid you, me darlin’, now do I?”

  Carrie smiled a little sadly, for though Lloyd’s words were spoken half in jest, she knew that there was a world of longing behind them. Suddenly she felt compassion for him. He loved her in his own rough way. He had been so good to her. And even though she found herself in a strange land, he saw to it that she was comfortable and lacked for nothing. She reached out suddenly in an unexpected gesture of tenderness, “ You have naught to fear from him, Lloyd, for I dislike him myself – intensely, and have done so since first meeting him.”

  Lloyd caught at her hand, longing in his eyes. Slowly he pulled her to him and took her in his arms. “You never said.”

  Carrie, within the circle of his embrace, shrugged. “ I thought he was important to you. I thought you needed him to help you meet the right people …”

  “Ach, Carrie me darlin’, I can stand on me own two feet. I want to live in no man’s debt. Aye, he’s been useful, I’ll not deny, but …” his embrace tightened about her. “If he’s makin’ a nuisance of himself to you …”

  She put her fingers on his lips. “I’ll not let him.”

  Lloyd laughed softly against her. “Aye, an’ I believe that, me lovely.”

  That night his lovemaking was tender and gentle and for the first time Carrie felt herself respond to him through a growing fondness. He was a good, kind man and deserved her love, she thought sadly as later he lay sleeping beside her.

  She closed her eyes against the tears. If only I could love him, but there’s no room in my heart for anyone but Jamie!

  The following morning, Lloyd explained that he was to be away from the camp for a week. “I must look at the land ahead, do another survey, for these damn rivers have a habit of changing their course. And I need to be findin’ a new camp-site ahead.” He looked down at her with concern. “Now you’ll be all right, me darlin’?”

  “Of course,” she assured him, but she did not feel as confident as she sounded. Despite the fact that the camp was full of people, without Lloyd Foster’s strong presence, Carrie felt very much alone in this foreign land.

  Two days after his departure the first Indian was taken sick with cholera. Carrie visited her servant, who was lying in his tent. He was vomiting and crying with the pain in his feet. Constantly he cried out weakly for water and yet when she held a cup to his cracked lips he seemed unable to drink. Within twelve hours he was dead. After that the fever swept through the camp so that soon the roles were reversed and the mistress was moving from tent to tent ministering to her servants and to the men who built the railway. Three died the following day and another two the day after that. Work on the railway must have stopped, she thought, but she could not worry about that. Those who were left, lugged the corpses to the river bank and unceremoniously flung them into the water.

  The sight of the victims – their brown skin parched and burning to the touch, their already emaciated bodies becoming like skeletons, the dark eyes filled with suffering – touched Carrie’s heart. She felt so helpless, all she could do was to keep sponging them down and offering drinks.

  “Missus – we put hot rods on the soles of der feet,” one servant told her. “Old Indian custom – very good – drive out pain.”

  Carrie snorted. “The only effect I can see that having is to cause even more pain!”

  The Indian shook his head. “Oh, no, Missus – very good. You wanna try?”

  “No,” she said sharply, lifting the head of one of her patients and holding a wooden bowl to his cracked lips. “I do not – and don’t let me hear of you trying it either.”

  The Indian shrugged philosophically, “ They all gonna die anyways,” he muttered and padded away.

  Carrie felt no fear of disease herself. Had she not nursed her brothers? She had no time to attend to her own appearance, so that by the end of the week when Lloyd was due to return, her hair was ruffled and streaked with dust, her clothes stained, her face hot and her eyes red-rimmed with fatigue.

  She longed for her husband’s return, for his strength and help, as four more of her servants fell ill. Soon there would be no one left and she would be alone in the camp, alone amidst the horrors of the wild jungle! She lit the fires at night but there was little fuel left and courageous though she was, Carrie dare not venture into the thicket to seek more.

  As she stooped to light the fire, she heard the sound of a horse approaching the camp. She stood up.

  “Lloyd, oh, Lloyd, thank goodness!” she cried, greatly relieved at the thought of his return. She ran towards the man on horseback and then stopped suddenly.

  It was not her husband who had ridden into the camp, but Captain Richmond.

  Disappointment and a twinge of fear caught at her.

  “My dear Mrs Foster,” Jeremy Richmond leapt from his horse and hurried towards her. “Whatever is the matter …?”

  “I – thought you were – my husband.”

  “But – you look greatly fatigued. Are you ill?”

  “No. No, I’m not. But there is cholera in the camp. The Indians …”

  “My dear lady, you must remove yourself at once. This is no place for you. If you should contract the disease …” Instinctively, he had moved back a pace from her and she could not help a wry smile touching her lips as she noticed his action. She was not so desirable now, she thought, dishevelled and dusty and a possible carrier of disease.

  “I cannot leave until my husband returns. Besides the sick need caring for …”

  “Your husband would not forgive me if I were to leave you here in such danger,” Captain Richmond insisted. “ Not only danger of contagion but – if all your servants die – what then? You – alone in the jungle? It is unthinkable!”

  “I must admit to being a little afraid …” then she added firmly, for she guessed what he was leading up to say, “but I cannot leave. I cannot leave these people to die.”

  Captain Richmond dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand. “They are dispensable. I can obtain you more servants in Calcutta.”

  Carrie gasped. “ How can you be so heartless? They are human beings. They are suffering agonies with this terrible fever …”

  “Your husband would have no such scruples, ma’am,” the Captain’s tone was full of sarcasm. “I must insist you return with me to Calcutta. We will leave a message here for Foster on his return.”

  “I will not come with you, Captain Richmond,” Carrie said quietly and added reluctantly. “Though I am grateful to you for your thought for my welfare.”

  “Oh, Carrie, Carrie,” he stepped towards her, his eyes wild. He gripped her shoulders. Carrie grew rigid beneath his touch.

  “Captain Richmond – you forget yourself!”

  Behind them there was the sound of another horse. They both turned to see Lloyd Foster riding towards them. Captain Richmond released her at once and hurried forward to meet her husband.

  “Foster! How glad I am to see you. I have been trying to make your wife see reason. The camp has been hit by a cholera epidemic in your absence, and Carrie – Mrs Foster,” he hurried on swiftly to hide his slip of the tongue, but the look in Lloyd Foster’s eyes told Carrie that he had noticed the Captain’s use of her Chr
istian name in a familiar manner. “Mrs Foster has been nursing them. I cannot emphasise too strongly the danger to herself in this. You should get her away immediately. Leave all your belongings – everything. I pray you, come quickly back to Calcutta, back to my house – my friend’s house.” Again in his agitation, he made a slip but now concern filled Lloyd Foster’s mind so that only Carrie observed it.

  Lloyd was down from his horse in an instant and striding towards her. “Ach, me darlin’, what have you been doin’ to yourself?”

  Her head rose in defiance. “I’ve been nursing the sick, it’s my duty, Lloyd. Our duty. We cannot leave these people to die alone – out here in the jungle.”

  “If you don’t leave – and now,” Captain Richmond’s voice was insistent, “you will all be dead!”

  “I may already have the disease on me,” Carrie said calmly. “ Do you wish me to be the cause of an epidemic in Calcutta?”

  The Captain shrugged, whilst Lloyd murmured, “But I should get you away from here.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Lloyd,” Carrie snapped, impatient with all the arguing. “ Of course I shan’t get the disease now. I must have an immunity to it. Good grief, haven’t I nursed enough sickness with my own brothers?”

  But their problem was solved for them in an unexpected way. That night the Indian servants who had not fallen sick fled the camp, and by the morning Carrie and Lloyd found themselves the only two healthy people in the camp. By evening the sick had died, and so there was now no reason for them to remain in camp.

  “Leave everything,” Captain Richmond, who had again come to visit them, insisted. “ Just come home with me and we will engage more servants and workmen for you in Calcutta. No need to tell them you’ve had the disease here. They’ll come back with you in due course.”

  “Aye, maybe you’re right at that,” Lloyd Foster agreed, though there was a reluctance in his eyes.

  Back in the comfortable surroundings of the house in Garden Reach, Carrie found herself once more cosseted and waited upon. Neither she nor Lloyd contracted cholera and after a few days Captain Richmond insisted that they should use their enforced holiday to become acquainted with some of the Europeans in Calcutta.