Danger at Dahlkari

by Jennifer Wilde

  “They did, dear, and I can’t imagine why Michael hasn’t shown up yet. It was late when they got in, of course, and I expect they were bone weary, but he knows how I wanted him to be here. Don’t you fret. I imagine he’ll show up eventually.”

  “I shan’t fret at all,” I told her.

  Dollie gave me a knowing little smile, tapped my arm and then looked extremely flattered when a nice-looking, bashful young sergeant stepped up and asked if he could have the honor of this dance. She was as enthusiastic and radiant as a schoolgirl as he led her onto the floor, definitely the belle of the ball. I hadn’t missed Lieutenant Stephens at all, I told myself. I had wondered why he wasn’t here, true, but I had been much too occupied to dwell on it. Dollie seemed determined to match the two of us, and I resented that. I had seen the man once, just once, and with women like Valerie Simpson around he was hardly likely to be interested in a young and inexperienced girl just out of school.

  “Thinking of me?” he inquired.

  “I—” I blushed, unable to continue.

  “You were,” he said. “Good.”

  I had been lost in thought as he approached, and now he stood before me tall and even more handsome than I remembered. Excessively handsome, I had remarked before, and it was true. With that dark blond hair and those deep blue eyes, that cleft chin and wide, beautifully shaped mouth, he was like a virile Adonis, dazzling in his uniform. He smiled, amused at my obvious discomfort, and I was furious with myself as I felt the blush burning on my cheeks.

  “Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” he remarked. “I wanted to write up my report first thing, get that out of the way, and then it took quite a while to get rid of the dust and grime.”

  “I—I hadn’t given it a thought.”

  “Oh, come now. Let’s not pretend. Dollie’s been after you about me ever since you arrived, singing my praises. Am I right? Right. She’s been singing your praises ever since she learned you were coming to Dahlkari. She made up her mind to match up the two of us quite some time ago, and she is a very determined woman.”

  “Really, Lieutenant Stephens—”

  “I’m an agreeable chap. It’s time I settled down. I must say, though, I was a bit taken aback when I first saw you. You looked like some pathetic urchin, dress in tatters, face streaked with dirt, hair all tangled. Not a very promising sight, I’ll have to admit.”

  “I don’t imagine I was,” I said stiffly.

  “Dollie had assured me you were a raving beauty, but I had my doubts. I still had them tonight, remembering that tattered waif, and then I came into the room and saw you standing over here and every doubt vanished. Dollie was right. She usually is.”

  I didn’t know whether to be angry or amused. I wanted to laugh, and I wanted to lash out with a barbed remark. I did neither. I summoned all my composure and looked up into those dancing blue eyes with a cool, level gaze. Lieutenant Stephens smiled, that wide chiseled mouth curving up at both corners, and I smiled, too, unable to help myself.

  “There,” he said, “that’s better. I’m really not a bad sort once you get to know me, and you shall get to know me.”

  “Indeed?”

  “It’s destined. Dollie ordained it.”

  The smile still played on his lips, and I felt myself responding to his charm. He had that in abundance, yet for all the light banter and playful gallantry there was still a certain reserve. I had no experience whatsoever with men, but I could tell that Lieutenant Stephens was at heart a serious, unemotional person, dedicated to his career. He was playing the gallant because it amused him to do so at the moment. It was not something he would care to devote a great deal of time to.

  “I suppose we’d better dance,” he said. “We’ve an awful lot of lost time to make up for.”

  “Have we, Lieutenant?”

  “You’ve been here two full weeks. If I hadn’t been gone we’d probably be engaged by this time.”

  He was teasing, and it meant absolutely nothing. It was what was expected of him. I let him lead me onto the dance floor, conscious of all the eyes upon us. People stared while pretending not to do so. The lieutenant nodded in silent greeting to various people as we moved past, as conscious as I of their curiosity, rather pleased by it. He was no doubt accustomed to being the center of attention, his personal magnetism and dazzling good looks making it almost routine.

  He was a superb dancer, of course. He moved with a lithe, confident grace, holding me securely about the waist, his hand clasping mine lightly. He smiled, enjoying himself as we swirled to the music, and I returned the smile, relaxing for the first time. I had the feeling we were going to be friends. I had the feeling that was all he wanted, and that suited me nicely. We danced several dances together, and I let myself go, savoring the movement, the music, the man who guided me about the floor with such firm, expert precision. I was aware of swirling colors around us, aware of colored streamers and balloons bobbing above, aware of the strength of that arm wrapped so securely about my waist. I felt lightheaded and rather dizzy after the fifth dance, and when the lieutenant suggested we step out into the gardens for a breath of fresh air I nodded gratefully.

  “I’d like that,” I said.

  “You look a bit flushed. I’d like to think I’ve overwhelmed you, but I suspect it’s the heat.”

  “It—it is rather warm in here.”

  Clasping my elbow lightly, Lieutenant Stephens led me through one of the French windows and out onto the back veranda. We moved slowly down the length of it, pools of light alternating with stretches of shadow, voices and music spilling out in bursts as we passed the windows. We moved down three flat wooden steps and along a flagstone path, and gradually the sound of music was replaced by that of crickets and rustling leaves. We reached the foot of the gardens and stopped near a tamarind tree. I could smell exotic blossoms, strong and fragrant in the warm night air, and in the moonlight I saw a tiny lizard scurry across the path.

  Lieutenant Stephens still clasped my elbow. He released it now with a murmured apology and stood looking toward the mess hall, half concealed by the trees and shrubbery we had passed along the way. The sky was an opaque purple-gray, gilded with moonlight, the gardens etched in black and gray and tarnished silver, romantic indeed, the music muted by distance. Michael Stephens was silent, lost in thought. In the misty silver-blue light his face was all smooth, flat planes, deeply shadowed, and he seemed remote, quite different from the teasing gallant of a short while ago. Several moments passed before he finally sighed and looked at me, lips curling in a thoughtful half smile.

  “You must be very tired,” I said.

  “Exhausted, actually. We rode most of the day. You must forgive me. I’m not doing my part. I’m supposed to sweep you into my arms and kiss you until you swoon with rapture.”

  “I shouldn’t if I were you.”

  “You wouldn’t swoon with rapture?”

  “I’d probably slap your face quite viciously.”

  “I say, that wouldn’t be cricket.”

  “Wouldn’t it?”

  He laughted softly. “Actually, I doubt if you would. Most women enjoy being kissed by me. You’ll enjoy it, too, once I get around to it. And I shall get around to it,” he added in a teasing voice.

  “But not tonight,” I said firmly.

  He grinned, and I like him immensely, feeling once again that we were going to be friends. Dollie had planned to throw us together from the beginning, and both of us were sensible enough to make light of a situation that could have been most embarrassing.

  “You know, you’re quite an unusual girl,” he said. “Not at all what I expected. I expected a naïve, simpering schoolgirl, and I find a cool, intelligent and most independent young lady who clearly knows her own mind. Not at all what I expected,” he repeated.

  “Is that supposed to be a compliment? It sounds most unflattering.”

  “I meant it as a compliment. You’re very refreshing, Miss Lauren Gray. Simpering schoolgirls bore me dreadfu
lly, and I have the feeling you couldn’t bore me if you tried. Would you really have slapped me?”

  “I certainly would have.”

  “You don’t find me completely irresistible?”

  “I’m afraid not, Lieutenant.”

  “Most women do as a matter of course. It’s rather a curse, you know, looking like a damned romantic hero and being a dull, conventional fellow at heart.”

  “I shouldn’t say you were dull,” I told him.

  “No? I say, things are beginning to look promising.”

  He took my hand, and we began to stroll slowly through the extensive gardens behind the mess hall, the music a constant, muted background. I was completely at ease now, more relaxed than I had been all evening, and, no longer playing the teasing gallant, Lieutenant Stephens proved to be a most agreeable companion, thoughtful and polite. He asked me about my life, and I found myself telling him about my parents’ death, about school life in Bath, about the books I had read. We stopped near a trellis heavily laden with honeysuckle vines. There was a long white bench, and I sat down gratefully, suddenly weary. It was the first time I had sat down all evening. Lieutenant Stephens stood with his feet legs spread, his arms folded across his chest.

  “And so you graduated,” he said. “What did you plan to do with yourself before you decided to come to India?”

  “I—I rather thought I would become a governess. It was about the only thing I was suited for. I was relieved when Dollie’s letter arrived. I wasn’t really looking forward to going into service. I probably shall eventually.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” he told me. He did not elaborate. Instead, he asked me what I had been doing with myself since arriving on post.

  “I’ve made ever so many calls, drunk ever so much tea, listened to an inordinate amount of gossip. I’ve watched the men drilling on the parade grounds and I’ve seen a polo match and, let me see—oh yes, I’ve arranged an awful lot of flowers for Dollie. She’s not very good at it, you see, and she does love cut flowers in the house.”

  “In short, you’ve been wretchedly bored.”

  “Wretchedly,” I admitted.

  “We’ll have to do something about that. Lieutenant Michael Stephens, at your service. Do you like to ride?”

  “I adore it.”

  “I have quite a lot of free time in the mornings. We’ll go out riding, let you see something of the countryside. You’ll have to fend for yourself during the afternoons, but I rather imagine we can find a way to keep your evenings from being so boring, too.”

  “It’s very kind of you to offer your—services, Lieutenant, but you really needn’t, you know. Just because Dollie—”

  “Dollie has nothing to do with it,” he said in a stern voice. “Oh, I planned to be polite and attentive, just to humor her, but now—” He hesitated, and then he smiled that beautiful smile. “Now, Miss Gray, I’ve decided to sweep you off your feet.”

  I felt a warm glow, a curious swell of elation, not at all sure that he was teasing. Teasing or not, it was going to be nice to have an attentive companion, someone to take me for rides and help alleviate the tedium of life on post. The fact that he was over six feet tall and had the face and form of a blond Greek god made it all the nicer. Lieutenant Stephens took my hand, helping me to my feet, and we strolled slowly back toward the veranda. He still held my hand in a firm grip, and I still felt that subtle elation, something akin to contentment but much more exhilarating. It was enchanting to have a new friend. I was naïve and inexperienced enough to believe that’s all he would be.

  I was startled to discover that the music was no longer playing. When had it stopped? Although there were still voices and laughter drifting out into the night through the opened French windows, that noisy festivity was missing. When we entered the mess hall it was to find that at least two thirds of the guests had already departed, those that remained standing about in intimate little groups, talking. The dance floor was empty now, its highly polished surface deplorably scuffed, and the colored streamers and balloons drooped sadly, tattered looking. The bar was littered with empty bottles, the buffet tables desecrated. The Indian servants were stacking empty plates and gathering up glasses. I found it hard to believe we had been out in the gardens so long. It had seemed such a short time.

  “Here you are!” Dollie exclaimed, scurrying over to greet us. “I was beginning to worry! Michael, you rascal, I didn’t get to dance with you a single time. I’m terribly disappointed. Hurt, too. You’ll have to be extra nice to smooth my ruffled feelings. The dance was a splendid success, I must say!”

  “It was lovely, Dollie,” I assured her.

  “It began to break up a little while ago. Those poor, dear boys had been playing all evening without a break, and they were exhausted. Each one of them shall have the day off tomorrow—I’ve already informed Reggie of that fact—and I gave each one a bottle of port as well.”

  “Have you seen Sally?” I asked.

  “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her since she first came in from the gardens with Sergeant Norman, and that was hours ago. I imagine they went off together. Lauren, dear, you look exhausted, and there’s still so much to do. I must stay and supervise the clearing up, naturally, and Reggie’s having a very important conversation with some of the men. I hate to tear him away. Michael, I wonder if you’d escort her back to the house?”

  “With great pleasure,” he said.

  It was an outrageous ploy on Dollie’s part, and I wanted to scold her. Lieutenant Stephens merely grinned, his deep blue eyes amused. He complimented Dollie on her success, bade her good night and led me out into the foyer, pausing to fetch his hat. I thought he looked rather weary himself. There was a tautness about his cheekbones, as though the skin was stretched too tightly, and faint grayish-mauve shadows were etched beneath his eyes. He brushed a thick wave of blond hair from his forehead, his mouth a tight line as he put his hat on and adjusted it. We left the mess hall and walked slowly toward the rows of barracks, all dark now, not a single light showing, the white walls gilded with moonlight and awash with shadows. Michael was silent, lost in thought again, and there was no sound but our footsteps and the silken rustle of my gown.

  “It—it was quite presumptuous of Dollie to impose on you like this,” I remarked. “I apologize for her.”

  “I’m grateful to her,” he replied.

  He lapsed into silence again. Michael Stephens was something of an enigma, I decided, certainly far more complex than he would seem to be at the first impression. He was undeniably self-possessed, calm, levelheaded, an efficient soldier. He had great charm, of course, when he cared to employ it, but I suspected he kept tight rein on his emotions and rarely did anything on impulse. He was ambitious, and perhaps he was a bit ruthless, but that wasn’t at all unusual in the military personality. A good soldier had to be ruthless at times, had to maintain that steely control I sensed in him. I found him utterly intriguing already, and already I sensed he was going to become very important to me.

  “You—you seem very preoccupied,” I said quietly.

  “Sorry. You’ll have to forgive me.”

  “You were thinking about the expedition, weren’t you?”

  “I was, actually.”

  “Do—do you mind talking about it?”

  “Not at all. It was a total failure. We visited over a hundred villages, interviewed hundreds of natives, and not a one of them knew a thing about the Thugs, not a one of them gave a satisfactory answer to our questions. They know, of course, but those not actually in league with the villains are too terrified to talk. We weren’t given a single lead. Their cover is damn near perfect. It seems we’ll never be able to break it.”

  “Perhaps this man Gordon—”

  “Gordon’s a fool,” he interrupted, his voice severe. “He’s a flamboyant, self-advertising opportunist who’s managed to worm his way into the confidence of the military leaders. He hasn’t accomplished a thing since he was sent out here. All he’s mana
ged to do is antagonize everyone on post. The man should be thrown out of the country.”

  “You seem to feel quite strongly about him.”

  “Everyone feels strongly about Gordon. He’s a rogue, a disgrace to England with those filthy books he’s written, those vile translations. He acts so damned superior—the man makes me livid.”

  We had passed the barracks and were nearing the green. It was extremely late, but still a few lamps burned in the houses. The flagpole stood like a tall silver wand, casting a long black line of shadow across the ground. Michael had grown silent again after his outburst about Gordon. I could easily understand why the military personnel here at Dahlkari would resent the man, an outsider sent in to take over a job they had been unable to accomplish themselves. Michael felt very strongly about his failure to discover anything about the Thugs during the expedition, and that was probably the reason for this rather moody silence. He wouldn’t take failure lightly. I felt certain he was accustomed to great success in everything he set out to accomplish.

  As we walked across the green toward the house, I thought about the strange native with the harsh face who had come to our rescue, who had murdered to protect us. I had thought about him frequently during these past two weeks, wondering who he was, what had become of him. I kept seeing those dark, smoldering eyes, that cruel mouth unable to forget what he had done for us, unable to understand why he had gone off like that without collecting a reward. I wondered if Michael and his men had discovered any trace of him. I rather doubted it. Considering his present mood, I thought it unwise to ask any more questions.

  We climbed the steps to the veranda and stopped in front of the heavy oak door with the fan of glass panes above it. A light was burning in the front hall, softly diffused golden rays streaming out through the panes. Michael had maintained his silence, and he stood quietly now, looking down at me with a thoughtful, bemused expression in his eyes. I had a wild impulse to reach up and stroke that lean cheek, and I was alarmed at myself for even entertaining such a thought. I considered myself intelligent and self-possessed and quite above the shallow, romantic foolishness that had occupied the other girls back at school, yet at the moment I wasn’t so sure of myself. I felt extremely vulnerable.