China Edward Rutherfurd (essential reading .txt) 📖

And then, with a second crack, it hurtled down. A great eight-foot-high screen of wood and glass, running down without even a rattle, falling free, like a castle portcullis whose ropes have been cut, catching his hands, both of them, before he knew what was happening, and smashing them onto the sill below with such a mighty bang that he did not even hear the bones of his hands breaking.

Nor was he aware that the downward force on his hands had also thrust his head forward into the crashing window, shattering the glass so that shards and splinters flew into his handsome face.

It took Charlie, his two companions, and several servants a full five minutes to lever the window up enough to pull back his broken hands and bloodied face. And John Trader had fainted long before that.

Below, in the street, the band and the Lomond women had long since passed. Agnes had heard the crash, but had seen nothing, except that a sash window in a building had fallen.

—

Aunt Harriet had been looking forward to going up to the hill station that summer. But she really couldn’t leave Trader in the bungalow. Charlie had brought him there, quite rightly of course. That’s what friends were for. And the fact was, John Trader was still in a very bad way.

The surgeon had done a good job. Just how good remained to be seen when the bandages and casts were off.

“There will be pain, of course,” the doctor said. “If it gets too much, give him a little laudanum. Above all, he must rest.”

“Will he make a full recovery?” Aunt Harriet wanted to know.

“With luck,” the doctor replied, “he’ll be able to use his hands again. His face is not as bad as we’d feared. There’ll be a few little scars. But he’s lost one of his eyes…” He shook his head.

“He’ll be blind?”

“Just in one eye. He can wear an eye patch. Like Admiral Nelson.”

“I wonder if he’ll like doing that,” Harriet said.

“He’d better,” the doctor replied bluntly. “The surgeon did his best, but I’m afraid it’s not a pretty sight. Never will be.”

More alarming, however, was his general state. “Infection’s always the greatest fear,” the doctor said. “Normally I’d recommend you get him out of the monsoon season and up into the hills as fast as you can. But for the moment, I want to keep an eye on him, and he’s not ready to make the journey. I know I can rely on you for that.”

When Aunt Harriet apologized to her husband for their delay in going to the hills, he waved it aside. “Trader once saved Charlie’s life,” he said cheerfully. “He counts as family.”

John had been installed in the bungalow for only an hour when Benjamin Odstock appeared. The merchant was more than grateful, begged them to let him know if they needed anything, returned the next day with presents for both of them, and called promptly every afternoon thereafter to check on the patient.

More surprising, however, the second morning after Trader’s arrival, was the appearance at the bungalow of a carriage containing Mrs. Lomond and her daughter.

“Charlie told us about the accident,” Mrs. Lomond explained, “so we thought we’d look in to find out how Trader was—before we go up to the hill station, you know.”

The patient was asleep when they entered the room.

“I can hardly see his face,” observed Mrs. Lomond.

“His hands are bandaged, too,” said Agnes.

“Will he be all right?” Mrs. Lomond asked.

Aunt Harriet told her what the doctor had said, though she glossed over the grimmer details about Trader’s eye.

“I think you’re wonderful,” said Mrs. Lomond warmly. “A real friend in need.” She seemed to hesitate. “I wonder,” she went on, “as long as we’re still in Calcutta, if Agnes and I couldn’t come over each day and give you a bit of time off.”

—

The colonel wasn’t very pleased. “I don’t see why it’s our business,” he grumbled. “And I’m not having Agnes left alone with that fella without a chaperone.”

“Of course not,” his wife replied. “I shall be with Agnes all the time. Harriet doesn’t really have to look after Trader, either, you know. She’s doing it because Charlie’s her nephew and Trader’s his friend. Everyone in Calcutta says she’s behaving awfully well. So I just think that since people know that you and Charlie’s father went to school together, and we like Charlie very much, if we don’t rally round and help Harriet before we go up to the hill station…” She didn’t complete the sentence. “I’d just like people to say that the Lomonds had behaved awfully well, too.”

“You’re quite right, my dear,” the colonel had to concede. “Just don’t leave Agnes alone with Trader, that’s all.”

—

It was clear, from the first afternoon, that they had done the right thing. “It’s our Christian duty, Agnes, don’t you think?” her mother had said. And indeed it was. “You must do these things even if you’re bored,” her mother continued. “It’s very good training for later life.” But Agnes was hardly bored at all.

They weren’t really there to nurse the patient, of course. Aunt Harriet had two particularly reliable servants to do the actual nursing, when she wasn’t doing it herself. The two Lomonds were there to give Trader a bit of company—and indeed, to provide some conversation and moral support for Harriet, too.

For part of the afternoon, Aunt Harriet took a little nap or walked in the garden. A couple of times she called for the carriage and went on social errands in the town. Meanwhile, the Lomonds chatted with John, if he was awake, or played a game of cards, if Aunt Harriet’s husband came in to join them.

When they played cards, Agnes was given a special role. Trader could see perfectly well with his good, uncovered eye, but he had difficulty, fumbling with his thickly bandaged fingers. Her job was therefore to hold his cards for