She was about to start on the next entry when David's bearer, Bhawar, entered the sitting room and bowed. "Lady Falkirk, Mrs. Colonel Baskin is calling. Will you see her?"
"Of course. Please show her in." Laura closed the Bible. Though Ian had warned her that regimental wives would come to look her over, she hadn't expected visitors quite so soon. She supposed that it was inevitable that the first would be a colonel's lady. The status of army wives was linked to that of their husbands, so one of the highest-ranking ladies of the station would consider it her duty to inspect any new females.
As Laura rose to her feet, a handsome, chestnut-haired woman in her late thirties swept in. "Good day, Lady Falkirk. I'm Blanche Baskin. Let me be the first to welcome you to Cambay.''
Laura said to the bearer, "Please bring us tea, Bhawar."
As Mrs. Baskin sat down, she said admiringly, "You speak Urdu very well. An unusual skill for a white woman."
"Among civil service families, it's a point of pride to speak to the natives in their own language." Laura took a seat by her visitor. "Also, there were so few Britons where I lived that not speaking Urdu would have meant a very silent life."
The other woman gave an elaborate shudder. "Thank God army stations are large enough so that one can have at least the semblance of a social life. A woman needn't speak any Urdu at all, though a dozen or so phrases are useful." Her shrewd gaze ran over Laura, openly appraising. "I heard that you're Russian, but you speak like an Englishwoman."
Briefly Laura considered snubbing the woman's curiosity, but she didn't want Ian's friends to pity him for marrying a shrew. "I was born in Russia, but I lived in England from the age of ten," she explained. "My stepfather was in the Indian Civil Service. After teaching at Haileybury for some years, he took another post in India. That's where Ian and I met."
After more scrutiny, Mrs. Baskin gave a nod of satisfaction, "You'll do very nicely for Ian."
"Good of you to approve. I'll be sure to tell my husband," Laura said, unable to repress the acid in her voice. The tea arrived and she poured cups for each of them.
As she accepted her tea, the colonel's wife gave an engaging smile. "You're wishing me to the devil, aren't you, Lady Falkirk? But there is worse to come, for every woman at this station is perishing to meet you. Ian was considered quite a prize even before he inherited the title, and his returning from the dead is such a dramatic tale. Now there are wails of regret that you got him before any of the belles of Cambay had a proper crack. By the way, if you haven't heard yet, the ball will be held at the club two nights from now."
Exasperated that everyone seemed to know more than she did, Laura murmured, "You are well informed."
"Not as well informed as I'd like to be." The other woman leaned forward, head cocked to one side. "Tell me, Lady Falkirk, what is Ian like in bed? I freely admit that I did my best to get him there, but he was quite a stickler about not sleeping with the wives of other officers."
Laura gasped, shocked speechless at the question. She could feel her face turning a hot, mortified red.
Mrs. Baskin sat back in her chair. "Now I've embarrassed you," she said contritely. "You have so much the look of a sensible, worldly woman that for a moment I forgot that you're still a newlywed on your honeymoon."
"I am certainly not worldly enough to be unshocked when married women discuss their affairs," Laura said stiffly.
The other woman's elegant eyebrows rose. "You disapprove. But why should I be a model of wifely virtue when my husband keeps a dear little black mistress in a house less than half a mile from my own?" Bitterness entered her voice. "He brought me to this beastly country where three of my children died before their first birthday, and the two who survived were shipped back to English schools when they were scarcely out of the nursery. I think I'm entitled to what consolations I can find."
In a few words, Mrs. Baskin had laid bare her life, and Laura felt a stab of uncomfortable sympathy. "I'm sorry."
"Don't waste your time feeling sorry for me. Just be grateful that you're on your way home." Having revealed as much as she was going to, Mrs. Baskin got to her feet. "If you can survive me, child, you can survive the rest of the hens. I really do wish you and Ian well. He's one of the more decent men I know, and your blushes have answered my question about his amatory skills." She inclined her head. "I shall see you at the ball." Then she swept from the room, chin high.
Laura was left in a daze, if Mrs. Baskin was an example of Cambay society, no wonder Ian had been reluctant to participate. But other women called during the day, and they all seemed normal enough, though admittedly curious about Ian's wife.