The return to India, a familiar environment, and a full and busy life, had worked a transformation in Fanny's husband, and placed him before her in a still more dazzling light.
On furlough, this naturally keen and busy officer found himself a nobody!—idle, bored, unrecognised, and consequently inclined to be irritable, super-critical, and dyspeptic. Once more in harness (a nice staff appointment) and surrounded by familiar scenes and old associates, he was a different person full of high spirits, buoyant energy, and bonhomie.
His bride recognised his importance in his own circle, his popularity among men, and looked with awe upon orderlies, brass-bound chuprassies, long official envelopes, and the ever-arriving telegram. A Freddy, wearing a clanking sword and gold spurs, was new to her, and indeed Major Tallboys in full-dress uniform (a pattern to his rank) presented a remarkably dignified, and soldier-like, appearance.
After a short stay in Madras, a bungalow in the Neilgherries was Fanny's first home. It was at Ooty that she engaged her Indian retinue, unpacked her glass and china, and set up her own dog. Her husband's friends, so well known by name, had unanimously offered her a hearty welcome; these were mostly military people, with easy, agreeable manners. Her garden was fragrant with roses and violets, the view from the verandah of Cranford Hall was unsurpassed, and how the sun shone! Caught into a whirl of congenial society, Frances Ann found herself in another world.
She realised that she owed this translation from suburbia and gloom to sunshine and happiness, to Freddy, and worshipped him accordingly. To behold him of a hunting morning, red-coated, admirably mounted, "witching the field with matchless horsemanship," was a sight that filled his wife with a pride and admiration, she was at no pains to conceal.
Under her husband's guidance and encouragement, Fanny cast away her shyness, and learnt to play tennis, to drive a pair of hard-mouthed ponies, and to entertain with self-confidence and grace. So adaptable was she, that by the end of a year, there was no more popular hostess than Mrs. Tallboys.
Her kind heart, the memory of her dreary youth, and gratitude for present good fortune, combined to make her tenderly sympathetic,—especially towards forlorn, friendless girls, and all sorts, and conditions, of her own sex.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Tallboys is figuratively waiting in the doorway, her long dark hair hanging in two thick plaits, her eyes fixed interrogatively upon her lord and master.
"I've had such a morning!" she began, "going through the rooms, arranging for people, sending the new-comers into dinner according to precedence, doing the flowers and menus, that I'm dead, and am taking forty winks before they all arrive. Is there anything you want altered, Freddy?"