Zemindar

by Valerie Fitzgerald

  ‘Now don’t say any more. Lie still and try to sleep. When you wake up, you’ll find the pains have stopped. I’m sure of it.’

  Emily shut her eyes obediently and I sat down near her to wait. In ten minutes her eyes were open again. In half an hour the pains were forcing her to bite her lips, and at the end of an hour she was writhing on the bed and gasping with relief as each spasm passed.

  ‘It’s no good, Laura! I’m so sorry, but it’s the baby, it must be. It has gone on so long now and it’s only getting worse!’

  ‘I can see that, Em. I’ll … I’ll have to send Toddy out to find someone to help. Mrs Camp has had six children. She’ll know just what to do and she seemed a nice practical sort of person. And when Oliver gets back, he’ll be able to find a doctor for you.’

  ‘But the nearest doctor is in Lucknow … that’s what frightens me, Laura.’

  It was what frightened me too, but I could not let her know it.

  ‘Well, very often midwives are much better than doctors, and I’m sure Oliver will manage to get one nearer than Lucknow. Take it gently, darling, I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  Drat it, I fumed to myself as I left the room. All I knew of childbirth was that it was a protracted business, particularly with a first child, and that not much could be done until the end. But when the end came, eventually, someone with a modicum of knowledge of the procedure had to be available, and that someone, I determined, was not going to be me. I was as ignorant of the whole business as a nonagenarian monk!

  I scrawled a note to Mrs Camp, and asked her to come to us as soon as possible. Toddy-Bob was sitting on the back verandah chewing tobacco and gazing vacantly at nothing. He had an astonishing facility for relaxing in any position, born no doubt of his days as an ostler’s boy watching horses in London. He sprang up when I appeared, the blankness of his expression belied by the shrewd appraisal in his eyes. He knew what was going on upstairs and for a second I wondered whether I should mention the matter outright and ask him who in the vicinity was most likely to help. But upbringing was too much for me.

  ‘I have a note here, Toddy,’ I said. ‘It’s urgent and very important. Please deliver it yourself and wait for an answer from Mrs Camp.’

  He took the note and examined it politely.

  ‘Sorry, miss,’ he said, handing it back. ‘Couldn’t do it.’

  ‘You couldn’t do it!’ Wrath almost made me stutter. ‘Why not? Haven’t I just told you it is very important?’

  ‘Yes, miss, and that’s as may be. But I ’as my orders quite clear like.’

  ‘And what might they be?’

  ‘To stay in this ’ere ’ouse and never to leave it while the Guv’nor isn’t around like.’

  I had been right then; he was our watchdog.

  ‘But, Toddy, this is an emergency! I will take full responsibility and explain to Mr Erskine that it was I who sent you—against your own wishes. Please, Toddy, it is desperately important!’

  ‘No go, miss. First, because Toddy-Bob takes ‘is orders from no one but the Guv’nor, nor never ’as. And second because Toddy-Bob ’as never gone against them orders nor doesn’t aim to now.’

  I was defeated.

  ‘Then, well, I suppose one of the other servants will have to take it. Will you arrange it, please? Tell them how urgent it is. Mrs Camp must have the note as soon as possible!’

  ‘That wouldn’t do neither, miss,’ he said with decision, but regretfully.

  ‘Now what do you mean?’ I held in my annoyance and spoke with honeyed sweetness.

  ‘Mrs Camp aint ’ere, miss. She’s gone to the ’ills, a week ago.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ I could not hide my dismay. ‘How do you know; you could be mistaken?’

  ‘Not I, miss. She’s gone all right and all the nippers too. Seen ’em!’

  I sat down on an old cane chair to think. What else was there I could do? Mr Camp’s assistant was not married and neither were either of the McCrackens or Mr Baird. The only other women I knew were in Lucknow. Had Toddy-Bob, his equine features gravely triumphant, not been watching me, I might have wept.

  ‘It’s a dai you’ll be wanting, miss,’ he volunteered after a pause.

  ‘A dai?’

  ‘Yes, miss; like a midwife—a nurse, you know.’

  Nothing can ever be hidden in an Indian household. Here now was Toddy-Bob in full possession of the facts.

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed, further subterfuge being pointless, ‘we do need a midwife!’ I said it as though midwives were as rare as pearls in clamshells.

  ‘I can get you one of them all right, miss.’

  ‘Can you! Oh, Toddy, how?’

  ‘Why, every village has two or three, miss. Bit rough like they may be, but they manage to bring the nippers into the world just the same as any.’

  ‘You mean a … a native woman?’

  ‘That’s right. Like I said—a dai.’

  ‘Oh, no! I’m afraid not. Mr Flood would never hear of that!’

  ‘Well, that’s the best I can do, miss, and one of ’em did all right by the Guv’nor.’

  Naturally, I thought to myself, with Yasmina in mind. A native woman would not want anything but a native midwife. Having accepted the fact of Yasmina’s parentage myself, I was hardly surprised that Toddy-Bob should blatantly mention the matter.

  ‘’Is ma was ’ere you see, miss, alone with the old people, and a dai come and pulled ’im into the world with nary a bother!’

  ‘Mr Erskine himself?’

  ‘Certainly, miss! Who else?’ He regarded me warily.

  ‘Oh! I … well, I’ll have to wait until the gentlemen come in anyway. Thank you for trying to help.’

  Slowly I went indoors and Toddy-Bob looked after me with one eyebrow cocked, his lips already pursed in his nearly silent whistle.

  The long afternoon dragged slowly into evening. Emily’s room was close and hot despite the efforts of the two ayahs and myself. While they took it in turns to fan her, I tried to cool her face and forehead with cloths wrung out in cologne and iced water. The two fat Indian women watched her intently, almost obscenely, and now and then exchanged comments in their own tongue. They knew how Emily was progressing, they knew what to expect, but when I questioned them they broke into such torrents of excited explanation that I could not understand a word. Neither my munshis nor Mr Benarsi Das had included the vocabulary of midwifery in their Urdu lessons.

  As night approached, Emily began to moan and cry out at frequent intervals, and each time she did so I clenched my teeth and swore under my breath at my own ignorant helplessness. And each time she moaned, the ayahs shook their heads and looked knowingly at each other.

  It was almost dark when the men returned.

  The chiks had been rolled up to let in the cooler night air and the lamps had been lit when, hearing the approach of horses, I left Emily and ran down the wide staircase to break the news. I might have saved myself the trouble. As they entered the house, the news I had to give them was announced by Emily herself in the form of a piercing scream, clearly audible on the floor below. Both men stood stock still, frozen into immobility by the unexpectedness of that sound in the big quiet house.

  ‘It’s Emily,’ Charles whispered.

  I nodded.

  ‘The baby? It’s coming?’

  I nodded again.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ He flung down his hat and riding crop and took the stairs three at a time.

  Oliver also removed his hat and placed it carefully on the carved chest beneath the elephant skull.

  ‘Well,’ said he deliberately, ‘that’s all we need!’

  ‘She can’t help it, Oliver,’ I said defensively. ‘It’s six weeks early, and I’m as sorry about it as you are, believe me.’

  ‘That’s a comfort! Have you got everything you need? I take it you can deal with this situation yourself, now that it is upon us?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘No what? What do you mean?’

  ‘
We must have a doctor! I know absolutely nothing about it. How could I? I’m not even married, and no one talks to unmarried women about such things. Oh, Oliver, I know I’m a fool not to know, but it’s the truth. Please help us to find someone. I wrote to Mrs Camp but Toddy says she has gone to the hills, and I don’t know of anyone else. We must find a doctor!’

  ‘Good God, woman, pull yourself together! It would take two days to get a doctor out here, and then there’s no saying one would come. You’ll have to manage on your own. The ayahs will help you. They always know everything. It’s their business to.’

  ‘But I don’t understand them well enough, don’t you see?’

  ‘Then they’ll manage without you. Just leave them alone to get on with it.’

  I shook my head helplessly, and sat down suddenly and inelegantly on the bottom stair. ‘It’s not as simple as that,’ I said. ‘They have managed to indicate that Emily is having a difficult time. She … she is too small!’ I hoped he would understand without further explanation. He did.

  His expression softened a little. He looked down at me in silence for a moment, biting his underlip in thought.

  ‘A doctor is out of the question. The first thing to do is to find out how things are going. Come up with me and fetch out one of the ayahs.’ He started up the stairs as he spoke, and I got up and followed him.

  Emily’s ayah, who came to the door at my summons, broke into a long and involved explanation when she saw Oliver. He listened attentively, asked a few questions, then dismissed the woman with a nod.

  ‘Yes, it’s as you say. She is having difficulty and things can only get worse. The ayah says …’ He broke off in mid sentence at the sound of a sobbing cry on the other side of the door. When he spoke again, his voice was gentler.

  ‘There is one possibility; if you will accept it.’

  ‘Anything! Anything is better than this!’

  ‘The ayah says Emily and the child will die if she doesn’t have help. I’m sorry to be so blunt. There’s no other way. We have a woman here whom the ayah says is sometimes called in for this kind of thing …’

  ‘You mean a dai?’

  ‘She’s not really a dai. Where did you learn the word?’

  ‘Toddy-Bob.’

  ‘I see.’ He grinned faintly. ‘No, Moti is not a dai, but she has very thin long hands and some experience of dealing with such … such situations, I believe. The ayah tells me she can help Emily and I see no alternative.’

  ‘Then get her, for pity’s sake, get her quickly!’

  ‘Wait!’ He looked at me intently in the light of the lamp at Emily’s door. ‘You should know one thing first. You have already met Moti.’

  I tried to read in his face an explanation for his delay, and slowly I understood. Moti. I had already met her. Then she could only be the woman in the old tower.

  Somewhere in the recesses of my muddled mind I felt I should be shocked. No gentleman would ever have considered introducing his native mistress into the presence of ladies, whatever the reason. But, though I saw the necessity for outrage, I felt none.

  ‘You mean …?’

  ‘Yes.’ His tone was deliberate and unapologetic. ‘Moti, Yasmina’s mother.’

  ‘She doesn’t like me,’ I said confusedly, remembering the venomous outburst that had met me in the tower.

  ‘It won’t matter. She has no reason for disliking Emily. And in any case she would do what I asked of her.’

  ‘Then, please, get her quickly!’

  ‘Very well.’ And with a final searching look into my face, he went.

  I walked into Emily’s room. Charles stood at a window looking out into the darkness, clasping and unclasping his hands behind his back. His wife lay still and quiet for the moment, all colour gone from her face, her golden hair, black now with perspiration, stuck to her forehead and cheeks. I touched him on the arm and motioned him out of the room, following him. ‘Oliver has gone to get someone who … who can help Emily,’ I said, closing the door behind me.

  ‘A doctor?’

  ‘No, a woman. A … a sort of midwife. It’s the best he can do.’

  He nodded, but did not seem to be listening; I knew he was waiting for the next moan or cry. When none came, he turned to me, and I saw his eyes were full of tears.

  ‘Laura, don’t let her die! For God’s sake, don’t let her die!’

  ‘Oh, Charles, there’s no likelihood of her dying,’ I lied. ‘She is only having a baby, and we’ll soon have skilled help. Come now!’

  ‘You don’t understand, Laura. You can’t! Emily never wanted this baby. Any baby. I forced … it on her. If she dies, I’ll have murdered her!’

  He spoke with such intensity that for a moment I could say nothing. I remembered instead, that night in Calcutta and the sound of Emily’s sobs in the darkness; and later her unhidden terror at the knowledge that she was pregnant. Both were memories I should not have been in a position to recall, and the knowledge that I was party, however unwillingly, to his shame and her degradation brought hot colour to my cheeks. I disguised my own feeling of inadequacy with anger.

  ‘Don’t be so melodramatic!’ I said sharply after a moment. ‘This is no time to speak of such things!’

  ‘There is never a time to speak of such things,’ he admitted with bitterness. ‘But one cannot escape living with them.’

  ‘Now look, Charles, you are anxious and over-emotional on account of it, but listen to me. Many women feel as Emily does about a first baby, particularly when they are as young as she is. They see motherhood as a threat to their independence, a curtailment of their enjoyment. Oh, I know you and Emily have not been getting along too well, but that’s to be expected, too. It … it’s the sort of growing pains of marriage; but when the baby comes, things will all be different … for you both.’

  ‘No, they won’t. They can’t be, Laura. I … I have been such a clumsy, selfish fool! She was only a child, but I couldn’t have patience. I wouldn’t wait. I know she will never really forgive me. She has said more than once that she hates me, and she means it. I know she means it.’

  ‘But she will grow up. In time she’ll see things as you saw them.’

  ‘No. And it will do no good if she does, because I have grown up too. That’s the hell of it!’ He walked a few reflective paces down the corridor and then came back to me, head bowed, hands in his pockets. When he spoke, he kept his eyes on the floor.

  ‘I swear that when I married her, I loved Emily, Laura—not you!’ I drew in my breath ready to protest, but he went on: ‘I could never have married her without loving her. Or at least thinking I did. She was so pretty, so gay and … bright! I couldn’t keep my eyes off her face—and she’s so graceful and light in all her movements, so deft with her pretty hands. I loved her voice and her laughter; all her ways. I’d never seen a girl like her. I was her slave, Laura. I gave her everything I could; everything she wanted. But I wanted … I wanted something in return as well. She never gave it to me. Not willingly. I tried to be patient, but once we were married she continued to treat me as her … her cavalier. Not even her favourite one. Just the most constant! And then I … well, then I lost patience. I took what I wanted. And that was really the end—for us both. When I realized that, I turned to you. You know I did, don’t you, Laura? You always had time to listen to me, the kindness to … to sympathize, to understand, so that gradually I came to believe I never had loved Emily. God knows, perhaps I never did. But when I married her, I thought I did!’

  ‘Please, Charles,’ I said gently, ‘you don’t need to tell me all this, indeed you don’t. You are overwrought. In the morning you will be ashamed of ever having mentioned these things. Please don’t go on. In fairness to Emily, if not to myself.’

  ‘Yes, I must do the right thing, must I not? But tell me, where can “fairness” be found in an unhappy, unfulfilled marriage like ours? Oh, I know; between us, Emily and I are producing a new human being, but believe me we have no chance of any real marriage
for all that. And it’s my fault. That is what I have to live with. Can you understand, Laura?’

  I understood too well. Once, and not so long ago, I would have known a degree of guilty joy at his admitting that he loved me. But now—well, I suppose I too had ‘grown up’. I felt compassion for him, but also found in my mind a marked distaste that he should have spoken as he had at such a time.

  ‘Perhaps I can understand, Charles,’ I admitted, ‘but none of this is my business, least of all now. You shouldn’t be telling me your inner recriminations and hidden guilts. We all have them, after all, and you made your own choice. It’s only right—only manly, Charles—that you should stand by it now. And in silence. Emily has had her share of suffering too.’

  ‘God, do you think I don’t know that? That’s why, Laura, you must not let her die. If only she will live, I swear, I swear on everything that’s most holy to me, that I will make it up to her. Don’t you see … if she dies … I could not live with myself?’

  ‘She will not die,’ I answered brusquely. ‘And we all, sometime or other, have to learn that we are less than we think ourselves.’

  He looked at me for a moment almost with wonder, almost as if he had never seen me before.

  ‘How hard you can be,’ he said slowly. ‘How hard you have become!’

  He moved away from me up the dark corridor lit by little pools of yellow light where the lamps hung. I think he intended to come back to me, looking for more sympathy or understanding, support perhaps most of all. But I was unwilling to give it. I watched him for a moment, his comely head bowed, his hands clenched by his side, then turned and went in to Emily again.

  Sitting in the hot, dim room by Emily’s bed, I wondered what my Aunt Hewitt would have said to the way in which her first grandchild was entering the world, unwanted by its mother and with only the help of a native woman to usher it into life. But Mount Bellew was too far away, too unreal; and, hard as I tried to conjure up a memory of my aunt’s face and tone of voice, to remember her views on propriety and expediency, I could confront myself with nothing more than a vague recollection of warmth and kindness. Perhaps, after all, she would have understood; would have done the same as I was doing on behalf of her daughter. I had to hope so. Here, in this foreign room that smelt of limewash and the coconut oil the ayahs used on their hair and the betel-nut they were fond of chewing, it was easy to believe that I had no alternative.