Danger at Dahlkari by Jennifer Wilde Page A

against him, I thought Robert Gordon sounded like a rather romantic figure—unconventional, independent, going his own way against established patterns. A bit bizarre, perhaps, but his own man. Dollie was obviously rankled because Gordon had supplanted some of Reggie’s authority, and it was only natural she should resent him. I finished my lemonade and tinkled the ice idly against the side of the glass, wondering about the enigmatic Mr. Gordon. What sort of man would translate erotic Oriental classics and write studies of native tribes, disdain the attention of English ladies and disappear for long periods at a time on secret military missions? Certainly not the sort who would fit into the stuffy, ultraconventional English military establishment.
    A myna bird cried out suddenly, and a flock of tiny green parakeets scattered in the air and settled in the boughs of one of the banyan trees. It was so serene here, so peaceful with the untidy flowerbeds filled with carefully nourished English flowers, the large, sprawling house with its cool, shadowy verandah so very reassuring. Time seemed to melt away, and I saw another garden as cozy as this, another large house, this one with a screened-in porch, and I saw a little girl in black pumps and white silk stockings and a starched pink dress, her long brown curls bouncing as she played on the lawn under the supervision of her ayah, a serene native woman in blue and silver sari. A beautiful, vivacious woman in lilac stepped outside, followed by a tall, stalwart man in full uniform. The little girl raced over to them, laughing merrily, her arms raised, and the man scooped her up into his arms and held her tightly and the woman put her arms around them both, and for a moment the three of them were entwined, the child safe and secure between two beloved bodies. The image seemed to melt away, the colors blurring, and I saw the same little girl at twelve, wide-eyed, face pale and tearstained, both those beautiful, vital loved ones gone, taken from her by the dreaded cholera.
    â€œI know, dear,” Dollie said.
    â€œI—I’m sorry. I was …”
    â€œI know. You were thinking about your parents. I could tell. It still hurts, doesn’t it, dear? After all these years …”
    â€œI think of them often. Being back here like this—” I paused. “It seems to bring them closer.”
    â€œIt’s what your parents would have wanted,” Dollie said quietly. “They would have wanted you to be with your Own Kind in the country they loved so well. You’ll meet some fine upstanding English officer here in India and do your part for the empire, just as they expected.”
    â€œI don’t know about that part. I’m really not interested in—”
    â€œBut of course you are!” Dollie protested. “You’re young and you’re female and you’ve come to a veritable treasure trove of eligible men. It’s going to be ever so exciting! All those dreary years at school surrounded by books and chalk dust and ink-stained desks are behind you, and now it’s time to enjoy yourself. How I envy you! I’m ever so eager to get started . We’re going to have a dance at the mess hall, I’ve already arranged it, and the rajah is going to have a party in your honor and—”
    Dollie chattered merrily, telling me about all the plans she had made to launch me, and I listened with a half smile, trying to feel some of her enthusiasm. I knew myself, and I knew I could never be the bright, carefree social butterfly playing one man against the other as I searched for just the right husband, but, for Dollie’s sake, I would try to enjoy all the parties and fetes she had been anticipating ever since I had agreed to come to Dahlkari. She and the other army wives needed them far more than I did. I fully realized that.
    â€œAnd speaking of men ,” she continued brightly, “Michael came by to