The Building of Jalna. Mazo de la Roche

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      THE BUILDING OF JALNA

      THE BUILDING OF JALNA

      MAZO DE LA ROCHE

      Copyright © 2009 The Estate of Mazo de la Roche and Dundurn Press Limited

      First published in Canada by Macmillan Company of Canada in 1944.

      This 2009 edition of The Building of Jalna is published in a new trade paperback format.

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.

      Editor: Michael Carroll

       Copy Editors: Jason Karp

       Design: Courtney Horner

       Printer: Marquis

       Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

      De la Roche, Mazo, 1879-1961

       The building of Jalna / Mazo de la Roche.

      (Jalna)

       ISBN 978-1-55002-878-2

      I. Title. II. Series: De la Roche, Mazo, 1879-1961. Jalna.

      PS8507.E43B85 2009 C813’.52 C2008-906254-X

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      We acknowledge the support of The Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and The Association for the Export of Canadian Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishers Tax Credit program, and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.

      Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.

       J. Kirk Howard, President

      Printed and bound in Canada.

       Printed on recycled paper.

       www.dundurn.com

      To St. John and Leonora Ervine and Rache Lovat Dickson in friendship and remembering their inscription in my copy of Sophia

      I

       IN ENGLAND

      ADELINE THOUGHT THAT never, never in her life had she seen anything so beautiful as The Bohemian Girl. The romance of it transfigured her mind, as moonlight a stained-glass window. And the music! Words and tune possessed her, making her feel like one in a dream. As she hung on Philip’s arm on the way out of Drury Lane the ground seemed unsubstantial beneath her feet, the crowd about her to be floating like herself.

      She looked into his face to discover what was its expression. She had glimpsed her own, in one of the great gilt-framed mirrors, and had been well-pleased by its rapt expression. She half-expected to see Philip wearing the same look. But in truth he looked just as he had when they had entered the opera house. Pleased to be there, well-satisfied with himself and with her, glad to be back in London once more. She pressed his arm and his lips parted in a smile. Surely no man in all that throng had so fine, so manly a profile as Philip! Surely there was no other man with such well-set shoulders, such a flat back! He turned his head and looked at her. As he looked, his bright blue eyes widened a little in pride. He glanced about to see if others were noticing her beauty. They were, no doubt about that. Two gentlemen on her other side were noticing it more than was compatible with good taste. They were openly staring at her. She was aware of this, as was shown by her heightened colour and the daring half-glance she bestowed on them, but she continued to smile at Philip. They were now near the outer door and it took all his skill to pilot her successfully through it, billowing as she was in a flounced taffeta crinoline. Small wonder those fellows stared, thought Philip. It was not often one saw a face so arresting as Adeline’s. Was there another anywhere to equal it, he wondered. Her colouring alone made people turn their heads to look after her: the hair thick and waving, of the deepest auburn that could, in sunlight, flame to red; the skin of marble and roses, the changeful brown eyes with black lashes. But, if her colouring had been undistinguished, her proud and daring features, her arched brows, aquiline nose and mobile, laughing mouth would have warranted his fine favour.

      There was a clatter of horses’ hoofs on the cobbles. Private carriages were drawn up in a glittering row. Adeline looked longingly at these but she and Philip must wait for a cab. They pressed forward to the curb, his mind still occupied in guarding her crinoline. A street musician rose, as out of the gutter. He was gaunt and in rags but he could play. He humped his shoulder against the fiddle and his arm that wielded the bow moved violently, as though in desperation. No one but Adeline noticed him. Yet he was playing in desperation.

      “Look, Philip!” she said, eagerly. “The poor man!” He looked and, frowning a little at the waste of time, resumed his scanning of the vehicles. She stiffened herself.

      “Give him something!” she demanded.

      Philip had found a four-wheeler. Now he determinedly pushed Adeline toward it. The driver scrambled down from his perch and threw open the door. Between the pushing of the crowd and the urging of Philip’s hand she found herself forced inside. But the beggar had seen her look of compassion and now his gaunt figure appeared at the door. His eyes were imploring. Philip put his hand in his pocket and produced a shilling.

      “God bless you, sir! God bless you, my lady!” The man kept reiterating his thanks. His face was ghastly in the light of the gas lamps.

      The horses’ feet clattered on the wet cobbles. Philip and Adeline turned to look triumphantly at each other. Both thought they had had their own way.

      The crowded streets, the bright lights, were intoxicating to them after their years in India. She indeed had never known London, for County Meath had been her home and Dublin the great city of her girlhood. She had danced her way through several seasons there but, in spite of her grace and beauty, she had not made the match her parents had hoped for. Her admirers had been well-born and all too attractive, but without sufficient means to set up an establishment. She had wasted good time in flirtations with them. Then her sister Judith, married to an officer stationed at Jalna, a garrison town in India, had invited Adeline to visit her and Adeline had gladly gone. She felt cramped in Ireland and she had quarreled with her father, who was even more high-tempered and domineering than herself. The cause of their quarrel was a legacy left her by a great-aunt. Her father had always been a favourite of this aunt and he had confidently looked forward to inheriting her fortune. It was not large, but in his present circumstances seemed munificent. Now he bitterly regretted that he had named a daughter after his aunt. That had been the mischief! That, and Adeline’s blandishments!

      In Judith’s house she met Philip Whiteoak, an officer in the Hussars. He came of a family long established in Warwickshire. Indeed the Whiteoaks had lived on their estate for several centuries. They had looked up to no man, being of the opinion that they were as good as any and of more ancient lineage than most of the peers of the country. At one time they had possessed considerable fortune which had been handed down intact from father to son. They had been a family of few children but those of fine physique. Their affairs had prospered till the time of Philip’s grandfather, who had become addicted to the vice of gambling, so prevalent