The Karma of Love (Bantam Series No. 14) by Barbara Cartland Page B
Authors: Barbara Cartland
Ads: Link
forgotten, she thought, how overwhelming the crowds could be in India, and yet even in this moment of confusion her heart leaped at the colour that was everywhere.
There were Indians waiting with garlands of marigolds for their friends to disembark from the ship and the brilliance of the saris seemed to be echoed in the uniforms of the various soldiers of all ranks moving about the quayside.
There were vendors selling fruits of green, purple and orange. There were children of well-off Indians carrying coloured windmills and kites, and everywhere there were beautiful faces with huge, brown, liquid eyes.
And above all there was the sun-shine, golden and warm, which penetrated even through the covered part of the quay and enveloped the ship Orissa had just left in a kind of golden haze.
“Is anyone meeting you, Mrs. Lane?”
She had no need to turn her head to see who had asked her the question in his deep voice.
As if she had half-anticipated that Major Meredith would find her again even though she had said goodbye to him, a lie sprang to her lips.
“A carriage will be ... waiting for me ... outside.”
“Then shall I tell your porter to take you there?”
“Thank you, that would be very kind.”
Orissa managed to speak with a cold reserve.
She had the uncomfortable feeling that Major Meredith was trying to find out more about her; perhaps to meet her mythical husband, or even to make sure that she was in fact not left alone in Bombay.
She had said good-bye to the General and Lady Critchley on board and the latter had actually had a note of warmth in her voice when she thanked Orissa for all she had done for little Neil.
Neil’s mother, who had met her father and mother before they had disembarked, had been most effusive.
‘ I cannot be too grateful to you, Mrs. Lane,” she said, “Mama tells me that you have improved Neil’s health and made him behave like an angel throughout the whole voyage.”
“He is a dear little boy,” Orissa said affectionately. “Have you any children of your own?”
“No”
“I felt you must have,” Neil’s mother smiled, “to have been so clever with mine. But thank you—thank you more than I can say.”
“It has been a very great pleasure!” Orissa replied. Then a number of smart be-medalled officers appeared, to escort the General to his carriage and Orissa slipped away.
She had expected that Major Meredith also would have a welcoming party awaiting him, but he appeared to be alone.
For one uncomfortable moment she thought that he intended to come with her and her coolie in search of the carriage which she had said was outside.
Firmly she held her hand out to him.
“Good-bye, Major Meredith.”
“Perhaps we shall meet again,” he suggested. “I am often in Bombay.”
“I think it is unlikely,” Orissa replied.
She felt this was unnecessarily rude and as an afterthought added:
“My ... husband and I do not ... entertain very much.”
“Then I must not try to impose on your hospitality,” Major Meredith said.
And she knew by the twist of his lips that he realised she was trying to be rid of him.
At that moment a truck containing a great pile of baggage from the ship pushed past them amid cries from the porters to clear the way, and Orissa turned and followed her own small pile of luggage without another look at Major Meredith.
‘I really shall never see him again,’ she told herself and wondered why the thought gave her so little pleasure.
Outside a number of gharri-wallahs, the cab-drivers of hired carriages, solicited her custom for their shabby gharris.
Her coolie chose one and having piled the baggage on the seat opposite her thanked her for the tip she gave him.
“Where Mem-sahib go?” the gharri-wattah enquired.
“The Victoria Terminus,” Orissa instructed him, “but drive round by the sea.”
She had been to Bombay before, but it seemed to her that it had grown tremendously in the eight years since she had been in
There were Indians waiting with garlands of marigolds for their friends to disembark from the ship and the brilliance of the saris seemed to be echoed in the uniforms of the various soldiers of all ranks moving about the quayside.
There were vendors selling fruits of green, purple and orange. There were children of well-off Indians carrying coloured windmills and kites, and everywhere there were beautiful faces with huge, brown, liquid eyes.
And above all there was the sun-shine, golden and warm, which penetrated even through the covered part of the quay and enveloped the ship Orissa had just left in a kind of golden haze.
“Is anyone meeting you, Mrs. Lane?”
She had no need to turn her head to see who had asked her the question in his deep voice.
As if she had half-anticipated that Major Meredith would find her again even though she had said goodbye to him, a lie sprang to her lips.
“A carriage will be ... waiting for me ... outside.”
“Then shall I tell your porter to take you there?”
“Thank you, that would be very kind.”
Orissa managed to speak with a cold reserve.
She had the uncomfortable feeling that Major Meredith was trying to find out more about her; perhaps to meet her mythical husband, or even to make sure that she was in fact not left alone in Bombay.
She had said good-bye to the General and Lady Critchley on board and the latter had actually had a note of warmth in her voice when she thanked Orissa for all she had done for little Neil.
Neil’s mother, who had met her father and mother before they had disembarked, had been most effusive.
‘ I cannot be too grateful to you, Mrs. Lane,” she said, “Mama tells me that you have improved Neil’s health and made him behave like an angel throughout the whole voyage.”
“He is a dear little boy,” Orissa said affectionately. “Have you any children of your own?”
“No”
“I felt you must have,” Neil’s mother smiled, “to have been so clever with mine. But thank you—thank you more than I can say.”
“It has been a very great pleasure!” Orissa replied. Then a number of smart be-medalled officers appeared, to escort the General to his carriage and Orissa slipped away.
She had expected that Major Meredith also would have a welcoming party awaiting him, but he appeared to be alone.
For one uncomfortable moment she thought that he intended to come with her and her coolie in search of the carriage which she had said was outside.
Firmly she held her hand out to him.
“Good-bye, Major Meredith.”
“Perhaps we shall meet again,” he suggested. “I am often in Bombay.”
“I think it is unlikely,” Orissa replied.
She felt this was unnecessarily rude and as an afterthought added:
“My ... husband and I do not ... entertain very much.”
“Then I must not try to impose on your hospitality,” Major Meredith said.
And she knew by the twist of his lips that he realised she was trying to be rid of him.
At that moment a truck containing a great pile of baggage from the ship pushed past them amid cries from the porters to clear the way, and Orissa turned and followed her own small pile of luggage without another look at Major Meredith.
‘I really shall never see him again,’ she told herself and wondered why the thought gave her so little pleasure.
Outside a number of gharri-wallahs, the cab-drivers of hired carriages, solicited her custom for their shabby gharris.
Her coolie chose one and having piled the baggage on the seat opposite her thanked her for the tip she gave him.
“Where Mem-sahib go?” the gharri-wattah enquired.
“The Victoria Terminus,” Orissa instructed him, “but drive round by the sea.”
She had been to Bombay before, but it seemed to her that it had grown tremendously in the eight years since she had been in
Similar Books
