101. A Call of Love (11 page)

They talked on before Lord Kenington declared,

“It is getting late and I am losing the argument. I am therefore going to bed to polish up my brain. I intend to defeat you on every subject tomorrow morning simply because I am a man!”

“Do you really think I would allow you to do that?” “I doubt if you would be able to prevent me from dominating our conversation,” Lord Kenington replied.

He knew that it would stimulate her once again into fighting him, but instead she laughed.

“It’s wonderful,” she sighed, “to be here alone with you and to be able to talk as we have just been. I missed it so much after Naples. And I used to go to bed and try to pretend I was you and answer my arguments with what you would have said.”

“I hope I was successful,” Lord Kenington grinned.

“Only occasionally. Then, of course, I had to try even harder to defeat you the next time.”

“As I will try tomorrow. I still think it’s amazing that, looking like you do and being so young, you can talk to me as if you were the Viceroy, the Pope and a few distinguished philosophers all rolled into one!”

Aisha gave a little cry.

“That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me! Thank you, thank you! I feel so happy being with you that for the moment I have stopped worrying about Papa.”

“Now I am trying to read your father’s thoughts that he will come back to you safely.” “I want to believe you and therefore I
will
believe you,” Aisha answered.

She rose from the comfortable sofa and walked towards her bedroom.

“Goodnight, my Lord, and thank you for being such a wonderful man that I am almost prepared to admit you are always right!”

She closed her door as Lord Kenington did not answer.

He was laughing as he went into his bedroom that was opposite hers.

Aisha found the whole of the next day entrancing.

There was so much varied and interesting scenery to watch from the windows of their drawing room on the train.

Above all she had the whole day in which to talk to Lord Kenington, to have his undivided attention and to discuss so many of the subjects she had in mind.

When she went to bed that night, she thanked God for giving her such a happy day, so happy that she had almost forgotten to worry about her father.

Aisha had again slept peacefully in what she found was a surprisingly comfortable bed. Lord Kenington was obviously in a cheerful mood and the sun was shining and everything seemed wonderful.

A carriage was waiting for them at the station to drive them to Viceregal Lodge.

“I know nothing at all about the Viceroy’s house in Simla,” Aisha said as the horses drove off. “Tell me about it, my Lord.”

“Apparently, Lord Lytton had a bad impression of it when he first saw it. He described it to his friends as ‘a mere bivouac’. He found ‘Peterhof’, as it is nicknamed, uncomfortably small and he complained he could never be alone there.”

“What did he mean by that?” Aisha asked.

“He said the sentries outside his window were too close for one thing and that ‘three unpronounceable beings in white and red nightgowns’ rushed after him if he walked about indoors. And, if he set foot in the garden, he was ‘stealthily followed by a tail of fifteen persons’.”

“I don’t believe it,” Aisha laughed.

“Nor do I, but it made a good story.” “But I have always heard that the people of Simla are the most amusing and, of course, there are innumerable visitors from England.”

“Unfortunately, the Viceroy really prefers Paris to anywhere else and in fact he said to a friend of mine only a few weeks ago, ‘I do so miss the pleasant scamps and scampesses of glorious France’!”

“Now you are telling me things I have not thought of before,” Aisha said. “I heard that everyone in England and India thinks that he is one of the best Viceroys we have ever sent.”

“You will find him charming, as I do. At the same time I would rather agree that he would be more at home in France than he is in India.”

It did not take them long to drive from the station to Peterhof.

Aisha thought it smaller and not as attractive as she had imagined it would be, but the garden was lovely with a mass of flowers, which would have been just impossible in Calcutta at the moment owing to the heat.

When they were shown into the reception room, Lord Lytton was already there.

He held out his hands in delight when he saw Lord Kenington.

“Charles!” he exclaimed. “I have been counting the days until you arrived. There are a great number of matters I want you to help me with.”

“And I have come to India especially for your help, Robert,” Lord Kenington replied, “so we will have to take it in turns!”

“All that matters is that you are here,” Lord Lytton said, patting him on the shoulder.

Then he looked a little curiously at Aisha.

“I have brought with me,” Lord Kenington said quickly, “Miss Aisha Warde. She was due to be met by her father, Major Harold Warde, at Calcutta, but he did not turn up. So I brought her here as she had nowhere else to go.”

“But, of course, that was the only thing you could do and I am delighted to meet Miss Warde,” the Viceroy said.

After glancing round the room where there were several people at the other end, he suggested in a low voice,

“I think you should come into my study.”

Lord Kenington was immediately aware that this invitation was connected with Aisha’s father.

“That would be a good idea,” he said, “and I have some important news for you from the Prime Minister.”

“Come along,” Lord Lytton invited them.

He went ahead and Aisha thought he was certainly very good-looking, although she did not really admire a man with a beard.

But she could understand, from the way he moved and the way he talked, why he had often been described as looking like a nervous thoroughbred.

It was not that he was horse-faced. In fact he was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. He had a lofty brow and a prominent finely shaped nose.

She was to learn later, when she knew him better, that his likeness to a racehorse was not in his physical features, but in his temperament and it showed in his face and his expression as well as in his air of breeding and distinction.

His study was a very attractive room overlooking the garden.

Having shut the door, the Viceroy turned to Aisha,

“I am afraid that I have upsetting news about your father and you are naturally worried that he did not meet you at Calcutta.”

Instinctively Aisha put out her hand towards Lord Kenington, who took it in both of his.

“What has happened,” she asked in a scared voice.

“Nothing so far that is very desperate,” Lord Lytton replied, “but he has not turned up at Headquarters as he was expected to do nearly a week ago and we are rather afraid that he has run into trouble.”

“You mean the Russians have taken him prisoner?” Aisha asked.

“Not as bad as that, I hope,” the Viceroy replied. “But he might have lost his way or perhaps been unable to get to where he could travel to where he wants to go, which naturally is here.”

Aisha looked up at Lord Kenington.

“What can we do?” she asked anxiously.

“I am afraid nothing until we know more,” Lord Kenington said quietly.

He helped her to a sofa, then sat down beside her.

He turned to Lord Lytton, who had seated himself at his desk, “Now please do tell us a little more, Robert. You realise what a shock this is to Aisha, after coming out at her father’s request and expecting him to be meeting her.”

“I can understand what she is feeling and I think she is being very brave,” Lord Lytton replied. “At the same time I admit we are worried about Major Warde.”

“Where did he go and was he in disguise?” Lord Kenington enquired.

“Of course he was. No one could disguise himself more effectively than Harold Warde.”

“I suppose you know where he went and what he was trying to find out?” “I understand that he went at his own suggestion, because he had some idea of what he might find. But he did not impart the information to anyone and told no one exactly where he was going.”

“No one?” Lord Kenington said questioningly.

“He merely said he had reason to believe that there was trouble in a part of the country only a short distance from here and that he would investigate it and bring me a report before he left for Calcutta to meet his daughter.”

There was silence and then Lord Kenington said,

“Can you send people to look for him?”

“They are already out looking to the best of their ability, but, as Warde did not give them full particulars of what he was attempting to discover, they have so far not been successful.

“I am sure Miss Warde will be very brave, as one expects from her father’s daughter and will try to behave amongst my guests as if nothing is wrong. It would be a great mistake for any of them, however charming they may be, to suspect that we are facing any kind of trouble.”

“Yes, of course, I understand that,” Lord Kenington replied. “And I am sure that Aisha does too.”

“I can only pray that Papa will be found as soon as possible,” Aisha added a little shyly.

She spoke very quietly and Lord Kenington thought that no one could behave with more self-control.

He was used to women when anything went wrong, crying and sobbing and making a to-do about everything and then the nearest man felt obliged to comfort them.

Aisha had released Lord Kenington’s hand and was now sitting with her hands in her lap and only because he now knew her so well was he aware she was trembling.

“What I want you to do,” the Viceroy said, “is to enjoy yourself if it is at all possible and, if not, pretend you are having a good time.”

“I will – try,” Aisha stammered.

He smiled at her.

“I thought you would. It is essential, when things happen like this, that the trouble, whatever it may be, is not discussed by people who don’t understand what they are saying, especially in front of the servants.”

He paused before he added,

“I am sure, as your father’s daughter, you are aware of that danger.”

“Of course I am and I promise you, my Lord, I will be very careful. I just want my father returned to me as soon as possible.”

“It is what we are all hoping,” Lord Lytton said. “As you well know, your father is greatly admired for the splendid work he has done here. I will let you into a secret when I tell you he is on the Honours List for next year, when he tells me he is retiring. I am sure, when he returns to England, he will make his name in the House of Lords.”

“I am, of course,” Aisha said quietly, “delighted to hear that all he has done for England has been appreciated. But I hope now that you will make every effort to find him, my Lord.”

“I promise you we are doing so. There is always a chance in this part of the world that he may have slipped and hurt himself so that he is unable to walk or he may have gone further away from here than he intended and is taking longer to come back than he expected.”

Aisha realised that he was only trying to cheer her up by being as encouraging as possible.

When she saw the look that the Viceroy gave Lord Kenington, she realised that both men were worried.

“I would like now,” Lord Kenington said, “if your Lordship will permit, to take Miss Warde round the garden to admire the flowers. Having been shut up in that train all night, we need the air. Then later, if you agree, I would like to see you alone.”

“Yes, of course, Charles, and I think you are quite right to take Miss Warde into the garden. It will be hotter after luncheon, when I am certain you will need a siesta.”

“You are very kind and understanding, Robert.” Lord Kenington rose to his feet as he was speaking and Aisha rose to hers.

They walked out through a side door and onto the lawns.

They could feel a faint wind coming from the hills and they were certainly very beautiful in the distance.

They walked in silence until they found a wooden seat in front of a pool. It was sheltered overhead by the boughs and leaves of an olive tree.

“Let’s sit down,” Lord Kenington suggested.

“If you are going to tell me not to worry, I shall scream,” Aisha said. “I am desperately worried about my Papa and it’s no use pretending that I am not.”

“Of course you are,” he agreed, “and so am I. But a hundred things can occur unexpectedly in India and one of them could easily be the reason why he is not here yet.”

“I felt sure that something was wrong when we reached Calcutta.” “So did I, but you have been very brave, Aisha, and as your father’s daughter you cannot display your emotions publicly.”

“I have no intention of doing so, my Lord, because I know that might be dangerous too. I just wish that there was some way we could get in touch with him.”

There was silence for a moment and then she said,

“You were telling me last night how the monks could communicate with each other over long distances. How do you think they managed it?”

Again there was silence and then he answered,

“I think in some way it is the same as when you try to read my thoughts and I try to read yours. The monks, of course, prayed and their prayer reached the man for whom they were praying. In some strange way he responded.”

“You mean they could trace him even if he was miles away?” Aisha asked.

“Exactly. Perhaps one day in the future we will have an instrument with which we can talk to people who are a long distance from us. But now the only people who have managed to do it have been the monks of Tibet.”

“Why did you not ask them to teach you?” “I tried to find out everything I could from them, but something like that was beyond anyone who had been brought up to believe just what he could see with his eyes.”

Aisha sighed.

“If only we could be in touch with Papa now. I was thinking, as I walked through the garden, that I would send out my thoughts to him. If he sent his back to me, then perhaps I would know where he was.”

“We can only try, but you must not be disappointed if you fail, Aisha. After all, there are many secrets in the East, which we have not even heard about in the West.”