When the light of your eyes shall make pallid the mean lesser lights I pursue ,
And the charm of your presence shall lure me from love of the gay “thirteen two.”

- Kipling.

More or less in unison and more or less in tune the congregation sang,

“Except the Lord build the house; their labour is but lost that build it. Except the Lord keep the city; the watchman waketh but in vain. It is but lost labour that ye rise up early, and so late take rest, and eat of the bread of carefulness: for so he giveth his beloved sleep.”

 

As he sang, Mackay glanced discreetly to his right. Standing there between the immaculate red and brass uniform of Colonel Peck and the ponderous, black, almost Byzantine form of his wife was the svelte, lissom figure of Adeline. Instinctively she glanced back at him, smiled and then immediately returned her attention to her hymnbook.

“Lo children and the fruit of the womb are an heritage and gift that cometh of the Lord. Like arrows in the hands of the mighty so are the children of thy youth.”

 

She wore a white light cotton dress with loose half sleave, these were adorned with embroidered purple flowers, writhing green leaves and tendrils. As far as Mackay could tell, she was the only person in church that Sunday morning that was not perspiring.

“Happy is the man who hath his quiver full of them; he shall not be ashamed when he speaks with his enemies at the gate.”

 

Around her neck hung an exquisite dragonfly pendant; a dragonfly that seemed to have alighted upon one of the tendrils and looked as natural as the real animal as it gently rose and fell with her breathing. After the service Adeline looked around the crowd of chatting people that had emerged from the chapel into its small courtyard, but could not see Mackay anywhere. The Pecks were talking to a tight little group at one corner so she wandered about a little looking for him. She felt a tap on her shoulder and heard a pleasant girlish voice greet her. It was Maisie de Groote, a girl slightly younger than herself, whom she had been introduced to by Esme Peck soon after she had arrived. Maisie was pleasant and chummy, but a little too fond of hunting for Adeline’s liking, reputedly having shot her first deer at the age of seven. Indeed Maisie had just returned from a tiger hunt in the Himalayan foothills to which she had invited Adeline.

Adeline had graciously and politely declined the invitation as the very idea of hunting filled her with horror. The younger woman had been genuinely disappointed so Adeline now felt that she at least owed her the courtesy of listening while Maisie recounted her recent jungle adventures.

“Well it was the funniest thing you ever saw in your life, the tiger had killed the bait, a buffalo, and dragged it away. So we followed the drag for about an hour, all in the most appalling heat mind you, we were black all over with flies and mosquitoes. Anyway, we found the buffalo eventually and set up to wait, the tiger naturally was nowhere to be seen. They usually hide the kill, leave it and return at about 6:30. That’s when you bag ‘em. Now one of the bearers noticed that the tiger had eaten a good part of this jolly old buffalo’s leg along the way, and it turns out that one of our chaps had been a little too liberal with the powdered opium. They sprinkle a bit on the bait to make the tiger a tad groggy. Well there was still no sign of it at ten so we pitched the tents, had a couple of brandies and went to bed.”

Adeline was momentarily at a loss,

“So what happened to your tiger?”

“Well I expect it’s still having a jolly good nap somewhere.”

“Oh.”

“Yes a pity really, still we came back with a good sized panther and a couple of dozen braces of grouse but sadly no tiger.”

Adeline felt her stomach heave slightly, then with a somewhat forced smile said,

“Esme tells me that you’ve recently become engaged, congratulations.”

“Oh yes, thank you. Beware the kalajuggah.”

“The….?”

“Kalajuggah, it means, ‘place of darkness.’ It’s a local custom amongst the subalterns and the all-other-ranks too I dare say. It’s a hideaway that they take you to between dances at the regimental club ball. That’s where Percy proposed.”

She ended this statement with a peal of laughter then added,

“Bride of the Kalajuggah, sounds positively sinister!”

Adeline laughed with her but couldn’t help wishing that Mackay would turn up. Maisie went on,

“We’ll be moving to Jaipur before too long. Perc’ has got himself appointed to the Maharaja’s polo team. He’s an absolute demon on a thirteen-two, that’s what we call a polo-pony. So he’ll be in for a rather sore bottom and a few bruised knees I should expect. Still we should get in a bit of good shikar”

“Hunting?”

“Yes by Jove, you’re getting the idea of the lingo old bean!”

******************************

Lieutenant Oscar Penley-Brougham frowned,

“Well, the quartermaster’s office shall simply have to place another order and we must pray that it’s the correct colour this time.”

Drawing more breath than necessary, Mackay replied,

“Right Oscar, I’ll leave it with you.”

“Yes sir.”

Penley-Brougham saluted his friend theatrically and turned. Mackay didn’t stay in the chapel a second longer lest some other minor government employee engaged him in further talk about boot polish. Though Penley-Brougham was his friend, the fellow’s lack of initiative was at times galling. Hurrying outside, his spirits immediately lifted as he saw Adeline, sans Pecks, talking to Maisie de Groote. The two women formed an incongruous pair, as Miss de Groote was a good deal shorter, stouter and more boisterous than Adeline who now had her back to him. Maisie broke into another of her characteristic chortles and must have caught a glimpse of his approach from out of the corner of her eye, for she said her adieus to Adeline and departed.

“Are people already starting to notice?” Mackay wondered.

Not expecting his approach, Adeline now smiled broadly,

“Oh Charles, wasn’t it a splendid service. I say the congregation can sing!”

Obviously she was not musical despite her other accomplishments.

“Oh yes, though there’s safety in numbers might I venture to say.”

“Oh dear Charles, do forgive me. I really haven’t the slightest idea but to these untrained ears it sounded marvellous.”

He rebuked himself for his intolerance and said,

“I’m sorry; it’s just that I come from a musical family. My mother was my first teacher and she demanded nothing but excellence.”

She smiled sweetly,

“I do so love the hundred and twenty seventh psalm, don’t you?”

“Yes certainly”, he replied diplomatically.

She added, “I heard it sung in St Mark’s in Venice a couple of years ago. It was a setting for counter tenor and orchestra by an eighteenth century native composer – now what was his name, Antonio something?”

“Vivaldi.”

“Yes, that’s right Antonio Vivaldi. I particularly love the line, Sicut sagittae in manu potentis, ita filii excussorum.”

 

He struggled to translate, “Like arrows in mighty hands, are the young children.”

Though this struck her as a very unpoetic rendering she said,

“Yes, that’s it. Later that year I heard Gregorio Allegri’s wonderful miserere sung in the Sistine Chapel. Have you been to Italy?”

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t.”

He said this with such obvious regret that Adeline felt that she should drop the subject. But then he said,

“I’ve been to Paris twice, my mother has relatives there. We saw Sarah Bernhardt perform on the second occasion. Now what was that play called…..La Dame…..”

“La Dame Aux Camellias!”

“Yes!” “Was it about June ’79?”

“Yes, you know I believe it was.”

She sprang back in delight, causing the dragonfly to sparkle in annoyance as it took a short flight and settled again.

“I was in Paris that year, from early in May until the end of August. We might have even gone to the same performance, imagine that! Oh wasn’t Sarah simply divine as Marguerite.”

Her enthusiasm as usual, was infectious.

“Yes, yes she was.”

“Cheerio Adeline, cheerio Captain.”

They turned to see Maisie waving at them as she was leaving. They smiled and waved back.

“Ah Maisie, she’s a dear girl. Did you know that she’s just become engaged Charles?”

“Oh yes, yes of course. Er, to one of our subalterns, Percy Good, awfully decent chap. Top notch polo player too.”

“She says he thinks her a perfect angel and I said that was fine as long as he didn’t treat her like one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Little food and fewer clothes,” she answered dryly.

As Mackay grinned, she added, “Maisie taught me a pair of new words.”

“Oh?”

“Shikar for hunting and kalajuggah, apparently it’s a rather gloomy place where they got engaged.”

As Adeline laughed, Mackay started to redden slightly and in order to avoid her gaze he imprudently turned his attention to her dragonfly. It was indeed an exquisite and costly jewel whose beauty was exceeded only by that of its owner. However, Mackay found himself looking more at the angle of sixty degrees at which it was perched rather than at the fiery insect itself.

“Do you like my dragonfly?”

Like everything else about you, it’s beautiful and fascinating, he wanted to say, but could only ask,

“Are those opals?”

“Yes, from Mexico I was told. I got this in Paris. It must have been in ’01. I do so adore dragonflies.”

Mackay remembered himself as a boy, catching tadpoles and watching dragonflies skim above the waters of a deep clear pond near his grandmother’s house in Surrey, where he used to spend his summer holidays. He found himself lost in that reverie but now it was a dreamy world filled with Adeline’s laughter and the aroma of almond blossoms. So wonderful was her presence that he failed to notice the ominous footsteps that signalled the approach of Esme Peck. The old woman appeared like a lone black cloud in an otherwise azure sky and, with an uneasy mixture of forced humour and barely concealed annoyance, said,

“There you are Adeline. I’ve been looking all over for you. Now please, say your goodbyes to the Captain, we are expected at the Ponsonby’s for drinks in half an hour.”

“Oh Esme, I’m so dreadfully sorry. How time seems to fly.”

“Yes, I remember when I was young; I too had all the time in the world to while away. Now do please excuse my young friend Captain, but we have a pressing need to depart.”

“Yes of course Mrs. Peck, by all means. Adeline and I were just talking about Paris.”

“Paris eh, ‘don’t care much for the place myself I regret to say. Now I’m sure you can continue your fascinating conversation on all things Gallic at another time.”

The old woman strode away with surprising vigour, seemingly towing her charge behind her by means of an invisible rope. Mackay smiled just as Adeline glanced back at him with a comically ironic look that spoke volumes. As the two women disappeared from view, he put his hand in his pocket and drew out an envelope. He next checked his watch; it was eleven, and set off hurriedly down the gravel path to the gate. Once outside, he paused for a moment to get his bearings. Already, two rickshaw drivers had spotted him and were converging. Officiously he donned his topee, jumped smartly onto the first rickshaw and gave the driver directions to a street in which there was a certain house with a blue door.

Coming Soon...Allauddin...Chapter 6