Ellis Peters - George Felse 11 - Death To The Landlords by Ellis Peters Page B
Authors: Ellis Peters
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down with their selections at a smaller table set in the window, and two servants hovered in the background, ready to offer replenishments at a nod from their master.
Afterwards the servants brought bowls of a creamy sweet made with rice, its surface covered with tissue-thin sheets of silver foil, which were also meant to be eaten; and fruit, in a bowl of water, and rich, strong coffee.
By this time they had exchanged all the courtesies, the host expressing his gratitude for their company and his pleasure in it, the guests their thanks for his kindness and their appreciation of all the thought he had given to their comfort; and still they were no nearer knowing whether his pleasure was personal or formal, his gratitude heartfelt, even desperate, or merely an acceptable phrase. He sat among them, cross-legged at one end of the long seat built into the window, talking intelligently about merely current things, such as the Indian scene, and their journey, and their intended onward journey, his large, unwavering dark eyes moving intently from face to face, and no gesture missing and nothing undone that could contribute to their well-being; but some inward part of him might as well have been, and probably was, a million miles away from them.
He was by no means a small man, being fully as tall as Dominic, though still a couple of inches short of Larry’s gangling height; but he was built in the slender South Indian style, with light bones and smooth, athletic flesh, and in repose he looked almost fragile; an impression reinforced by the refinement and tension of his face, which was clearly but suavely cut, without any of the hawk-likeness of Lakshman’s Punjabi features. The moulding of his lips was fastidious and reticent, the poise of his head very erect, even drawn a little back, as though in insurmountable reserve. And out of this austere countenance the melting southern eyes gazed doubtfully, withholding communication, even while he discoursed politely and plied them with favours.
But there was nothing indecisive about the face, and nothing to suggest that the part of him he kept private was not engaged at this very moment in furious and resolute activity of its own.
‘I must apologise,’ he said, when even the coffee had been cleared away, ‘for being such a poor host. I have been too preoccupied with this responsibility here, to which I’m not accustomed at all. Give me a few months, and when I have all this moving as I want it to move, then you must come again, and let me have more time to show you the countryside.’ Not a word of his father’s death and his own recall to take over the household; such family concerns must not be inflicted upon girl guests. ‘I realise that you have made your own plans, too, of course. But you will at least have tomorrow? You need not leave until the next day?’
‘No, Wednesday morning we’d planned on moving,’ Larry agreed.
‘And at what hour ought you to set out?’ For the first time he smiled, a little self-consciously. ‘I’m sorry, that sounds terrible. I would be happy if you need not leave at all that day, but you see, my father’s lawyer is coming that morning to help me clear up all the affairs my father left in confusion. He was ill for some time before he died, though we never realised how ill, and things were a little neglected, not to mention a law-suit he had with a cousin over a plot of land lower down in the plain. That’s why I have been locking myself in his office all day and every day, trying to get everything sorted out for when the solicitor comes. I would like to arrange my meeting with him for an hour that won’t inconvenience you at all.’
‘We ought to make an early start,’ said Larry. ‘We have to drop the girls in Nagarcoil, and then go on to Cape Comorin. I think we should say seven in the morning.’
‘Then I shall arrange for Mr Das Gupta to come at eight. I shall send my car down to Koilpatti to fetch him, after you have
Afterwards the servants brought bowls of a creamy sweet made with rice, its surface covered with tissue-thin sheets of silver foil, which were also meant to be eaten; and fruit, in a bowl of water, and rich, strong coffee.
By this time they had exchanged all the courtesies, the host expressing his gratitude for their company and his pleasure in it, the guests their thanks for his kindness and their appreciation of all the thought he had given to their comfort; and still they were no nearer knowing whether his pleasure was personal or formal, his gratitude heartfelt, even desperate, or merely an acceptable phrase. He sat among them, cross-legged at one end of the long seat built into the window, talking intelligently about merely current things, such as the Indian scene, and their journey, and their intended onward journey, his large, unwavering dark eyes moving intently from face to face, and no gesture missing and nothing undone that could contribute to their well-being; but some inward part of him might as well have been, and probably was, a million miles away from them.
He was by no means a small man, being fully as tall as Dominic, though still a couple of inches short of Larry’s gangling height; but he was built in the slender South Indian style, with light bones and smooth, athletic flesh, and in repose he looked almost fragile; an impression reinforced by the refinement and tension of his face, which was clearly but suavely cut, without any of the hawk-likeness of Lakshman’s Punjabi features. The moulding of his lips was fastidious and reticent, the poise of his head very erect, even drawn a little back, as though in insurmountable reserve. And out of this austere countenance the melting southern eyes gazed doubtfully, withholding communication, even while he discoursed politely and plied them with favours.
But there was nothing indecisive about the face, and nothing to suggest that the part of him he kept private was not engaged at this very moment in furious and resolute activity of its own.
‘I must apologise,’ he said, when even the coffee had been cleared away, ‘for being such a poor host. I have been too preoccupied with this responsibility here, to which I’m not accustomed at all. Give me a few months, and when I have all this moving as I want it to move, then you must come again, and let me have more time to show you the countryside.’ Not a word of his father’s death and his own recall to take over the household; such family concerns must not be inflicted upon girl guests. ‘I realise that you have made your own plans, too, of course. But you will at least have tomorrow? You need not leave until the next day?’
‘No, Wednesday morning we’d planned on moving,’ Larry agreed.
‘And at what hour ought you to set out?’ For the first time he smiled, a little self-consciously. ‘I’m sorry, that sounds terrible. I would be happy if you need not leave at all that day, but you see, my father’s lawyer is coming that morning to help me clear up all the affairs my father left in confusion. He was ill for some time before he died, though we never realised how ill, and things were a little neglected, not to mention a law-suit he had with a cousin over a plot of land lower down in the plain. That’s why I have been locking myself in his office all day and every day, trying to get everything sorted out for when the solicitor comes. I would like to arrange my meeting with him for an hour that won’t inconvenience you at all.’
‘We ought to make an early start,’ said Larry. ‘We have to drop the girls in Nagarcoil, and then go on to Cape Comorin. I think we should say seven in the morning.’
‘Then I shall arrange for Mr Das Gupta to come at eight. I shall send my car down to Koilpatti to fetch him, after you have
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