Spell of the Island

by Hampson, Anne

  ‘You promised,’ persisted Emma, ‘and an honourable man would not go back on his word.’

  ‘So you believe me to be an honourable man?’ His tones were suave and low.

  ‘I’m asking you to dismiss my sister from your service!’

  ‘Come to me tomorrow sometime, and I’ll give you my answer.’

  So he was still hoping for an affair. She supposed he had every cause for optimism after what had happened less than an hour ago. His face was set, impassive; she knew it would be futile to argue with him and she turned to go.

  He said softly, ‘You do realise that your complete lack of embarrassment reveals much to me, don’t you?’

  She coloured faintly.

  ‘I have admitted, I think, that—that you—draw me physically. But I shall not stay and be your mistress—’

  ‘If your sister hadn’t come in, I’d have had the promise from you.’

  ‘A promise I’d have broken—yes—believe me,’ she went on fiercely. ‘I’d have regretted my—lapse within minutes.’

  He shrugged impatiently.

  ‘Go to bed, Emma. We’re both tired. See me in the morning, and we’ll have a long talk.’

  The following morning there was a miraculous change in Louise.

  ‘I was stupid last night,’ she owned self-deprecatingly. ‘Try to forget it, Emma. I feel much better this morning.’

  Emma looked at her with a hint of suspicion.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘You’re not putting on an act?’ Emma was a little frightened, for she could not easily forget her sister’s threat of suicide.

  ‘An act?’ Louise’s surprise was genuine, and Emma breathed a sigh of relief. ‘No, of course not. I really do feel much better.’

  ‘Then I’m glad.’ A pause and then, ‘I shall have to write Mother today. I’ve been putting it off, but I can’t do so any longer.’ There was a question in the words which Louise answered at once.

  ‘Tell her I’m much happier.’

  Emma said nothing. She felt extremely anxious about Louise’s reaction to her dismissal—presupposing Paul kept to his word, that was. Emma now had some cause for doubt, after his prevarication last night.

  She went along to his study as soon as Louise had taken Jeremy to school.

  Paul was writing at his desk and did not at first look up when, after knocking, Emma entered without waiting for an invitation. She glanced around, noticing the tapestries along one wall, while two other walls were lined with well-filled bookcases. The wide, low window opened out to a verandah, and the view was breathtaking—over the magnificent grounds of the chateau to the palm-fringed beach and the sapphire blue lagoon. A graceful white-sailed yacht was silhouetted against the azure sky—Paul’s yacht in which he took part in various regattas.

  She could picture him, dressed for the part, tall and handsome and efficient. Did he ever take women on a pleasure cruise? she wondered. Louise did not seem to know much about him at all, but then he had always kept her at a distance—or tried to.

  ‘You asked me to see you this morning,’ she said, moving from the door into the centre of the room.

  ‘About my dismissing your sister, yes.’ He was not in the best of moods; in fact, he reminded her of the stern, austere man she had first met, when he seemed so rigidly formidable that she had wondered if he ever unbent.

  Emma had certainly seen him unbend!

  ‘It’s important for everyone concerned.’ Emma’s voice was firm, decisive. ‘You did promise,’ she reminded him, and a frown appeared on his brow.

  ‘I would have all the trouble of finding someone else,’ he pointed out. ‘Nannies are not easy to get, because the girls here can find jobs that give them more freedom. It was for that reason that Jeremy’s parents advertised in the English papers.’

  She looked at him across the desk. He had not stood up immediately on her entry, but he was rising now.

  ‘You’re going back on your promise, then?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘And the real reason is because of me.’ She waited but he made no comment. The frown was still creasing his brow. ‘What good this attitude will do you I cannot fathom. I’m leaving at the end of the fortnight.’

  ‘You said you might stay longer.’

  ‘There isn’t anything to stay for.’ She moved restlessly, angry with him for breaking his promise.

  ‘Given time,’ he said with a growing frown, ‘I could persuade you to stay.’

  ‘Well, you don’t happen to have the time,’ was Emma’s rather tart rejoinder.

  His dark eyes met hers, fixed and deliberate.

  ‘You know in your heart that you’d like to stay; you’ve admitted to being physically attracted to me, as I am to you, so why this attitude? Life is for living, Emma. I promised you’d be richer when you left—’ For some reason he cut abruptly and Emma sent him an interrogating glance, waiting for him to continue. But he was now looking down at the leather-bound writing pad on which rested the paper he had been writing on when Emma entered the study. ‘I’m busy, Emma, and have no more time to give you. The question of Louise is closed as far as I am concerned. However, if she herself does want to break the contract there is little I can do about it. I have, nevertheless, quite categorically refused to release her, so she will not be given a testimonial if she does decide to leave.’

  Emma sighed deeply.

  ‘You’re fairly confident that she won’t leave of her own accord, aren’t you?’

  ‘Emma,’ he said with some asperity, ‘I have told you I’m busy. Please leave—and this time, kindly close the door behind you.’

  Chapter Five

  The next few days passed far more pleasantly than those that had gone before. Louise seemed to be making a determined effort to pull herself together, and in consequence she was more like her old self. Emma wrote to their mother and hoped she had eased her mind a little. Louise also attended more conscientiously to her small charge, but Paul also gave him a little of his time, and on one occasion Emma joined them in a game of hide-go-seek in the spacious grounds of the chateau.

  On another occasion Paul asked Emma if she was intending seeing a few interesting places and to her surprise said that Louise could have a couple of days off in order to show her around. One of the Creole maids, Sarogni, would look after Jeremy when he came from school.

  ‘It’s good of Paul to let me off, isn’t it?’ Louise and Emma were ready to go out, both looking lovely in bright cotton frocks and sandals. Emma had managed to acquire a honey-tan which added to her attractiveness, and Paul, coming upon them as they came from the chateau, halted for a moment; and his eyes were flickering over her from head to foot. And if Louise noticed that he gave her far less attention, she made no comment when once again she and Emma were alone, walking now towards where the small car was parked. The use of this had been Louise’s only for taking Jeremy to school and bringing him home again. But another concession made by Paul was that the two girls could have the car for sightseeing, and in fact, any time they wanted to go out in the evening.

  ‘I’m a little mystified by the change in Paul.’ Louise voiced her thoughts after starting up the car and driving it to the high, wrought-iron gates which terminated the long, wide avenue of flame trees which were an especial feature of the chateau grounds. ‘I never expected him to let us have the car.’

  ‘It was good of him,’ was all Emma returned to this. She knew that Paul was doing it for her sake, having realised that she had seen little outside the grounds of the chateau and the private beach curving to the south of it. He had not mentioned anything more about an ‘affair,’ and she wondered if he had forgotten all about it. His manner was mostly indifferent; he had not invited the girls to dinner after that one occasion.

  ‘We’ll go to Port Louis first,’ Louise had said earlier, and now she was driving towards it, having been there several times with Mrs. Winnick who, Emma gathered, was a charming woman, far more human than her brother.

/>   Soon after entering the sunlit city, Louise parked the car, and the first place she took Emma to was the palm-lined Place d’Armes, which was off the lovely main square and where Emma enjoyed sitting in a garden cafe and admiring the French colonial buildings erected in the eighteenth century.

  ‘I didn’t realise how very French Mauritius is,’ she remarked after having noticed some of the street names.

  ‘Neither did I before I came. The French claimed the island early in the eighteenth century and called it the Ile de France, and it became a prosperous French colony, so the language, customs and religion are still here, although English is the official language. It’s attractive, isn’t it—being so French, I mean?’

  Emma nodded her head.

  ‘Yes, I love it.’

  ‘Could you live here?’

  A pause. She wondered what Louise would have to say were she to tell her she could live here . . . as Paul’s mistress.

  ‘I guess it would be a very wonderful place to live—but not possible for me, so I shall have to be content with having another holiday sometime.’

  ‘I was thrilled when I first came. The Winnicks were super people, so kind to me. Mrs. Winnick used to take me with her quite often when she went shopping. They both treated me more like one of the family, and I always ate in the evenings with them.’

  ‘So it was very different when you went to the chateau of her brother.’

  ‘Yes, very different indeed. I suppose I was unhappy right from the start. I felt strange in Paul’s home. . . .’ She tailed off, and watching her expression, Emma knew just where her thoughts were.

  ‘You fell for Paul’s good looks and that made things much worse.’

  Louise nodded in agreement.

  ‘And I now realise, Emma, that I—well—began to push myself—’ She broke off, colour tinting her cheeks. ‘He hated being—how can I put it?’ Again she paused but then said deprecatingly but with perfect frankness, ‘Chased is the only word to describe how it was; I fully realise it now. And a man as arrogant and superior as Paul was bound to give me the brush-off, wasn’t he?’

  Emma was at a loss to find a response, for she had not expected Louise to open up like this and admit to having annoyed Paul—for that was undoubtedly what her conduct amounted to.

  ‘You seem to be getting over it,’ submitted Emma tentatively.

  ‘I’m trying hard,’ agreed her sister, managing to produce a smile. ‘Unrequited love is fruitless, and the sooner I can forget him the more comfortable life will be.’ Her lip trembled, but she soon pulled herself together.

  Emma said gently, ‘Come home with me, Louise. Mother will be so glad to have you back.’

  Louise nodded thoughtfully, while Emma held her breath.

  ‘It would be the wisest course, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Under the circumstances, yes, Louise, it would.’

  ‘It’ll mean breaking the contract.’

  ‘So . . . what does it matter? If the Winnicks were coming back shortly, it would be different, but you say they’re not due back for almost two years?’

  ‘That’s right. I know they’ll expect me to stay on until they return.’ A sigh escaped her, and for a while the two sipped their coffee in silence. ‘They were so good to me,’ she murmured at length, almost to herself, ‘It’s not very nice of me to leave.’

  ‘In this particular case you have to think of yourself first,’ Emma pointed out practically, ‘I’m sure that if Mrs. Winnick were in possession of the facts, she would agree.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure she would. But as she doesn’t know the facts, she’s going to think it was a dirty trick on my part to leave Jeremy.’

  ‘Nevertheless, you are leaving?’ Emma held her breath again, then let it out slowly and thankfully on hearing Louise say, ‘I am leaving, yes, Emma. I realise just how stupid I’ve been.’ She looked at her sister. ‘Had it been you, you’d have been stronger, wouldn’t you? You’d never have fallen victim to Paul’s good looks and other perfections.’

  Naturally Emma had nothing to say to this! For she had come closer by far to falling victim! She had almost given herself to the man.

  ‘Shall we move on?’ Louise opened her handbag and took out sunglasses. ‘I shall miss this lovely sun,’ she sighed as she put them on.

  ‘But you’ll be happier in yourself. Oh, Louise, I’m so glad you’re coming home with me! Mother will be thrilled, too. She’s missed you, Louise.’

  ‘It troubled me,’ she admitted. ‘Yes, I shall be doing the right thing all round by coming home with you.’ She paused while Emma paid the waitress, a lovely Creole girl with the name: Vivoosee, pinned to her royal blue apron. ‘I don’t know how I am going to give Paul my notice,’ she added with a visible shudder when the girl had gone. ‘However, I’ll manage it somehow.’

  Emma was silent, thinking about Paul and knowing he would be furious at this turn of events; he’d blame her she felt sure—and, of course, he would have cause to do so since it was by her persuasion that Louise was leaving the island. What of the little boy? Emma felt sorry for him but supposed that, adaptable as he seemed to be, he would soon get used to the new nanny his uncle would procure for him.

  They went to the harbour, one of the finest in the Indian Ocean, first named Turtle Bay—Rade des Molluques—by the Dutch, but Port Louis was later created by the famous soldier and sailor, Mahe de Labourdonnais who became Governor of the island, changing it from a mere trading post to what it was today. Numerous ships and boats of all shapes and sizes lay at anchor in the magnificent bay. From there Louise took Emma to the market—a fantastic conglomeration of noisy people and multicoloured fruits and vegetables. One could hardly walk between the stacks of produce or crowds of shoppers and stall owners.

  ‘It’s incredible!’ exclaimed Emma. ‘Fascinating.’ She was thoroughly enjoying the outing, partly, she supposed, because Louise was like her old self, a good companion and friend. Partly, though, because of the uniqueness of her surroundings. It was hard to imagine that once upon a time almost the entire island had been covered with thick forests of ebony trees, mainly Dutch red ebony—tambalacoque, tatamaka and others. Most had been cut down for sugar and tea plantations such as were owned by Paul Fanchette.

  ‘Shall we drive on now to Curepipe?’ suggested Louise after they had seen more of the city and had taken lunch at a restaurant called La Flore Mauricienne where they ate squid in Creole sauce served with saffron rice. For dessert they had fresh fruit and little coconut biscuits.

  ‘Yes, whatever you say,’ answered Emma, ‘I’m really enjoying myself.’

  ‘At last,’ briefly but with meaning.

  ‘It’s such a relief—’

  ‘I’m not myself yet,’ broke in Louise warningly. ‘You have no idea the difficulty I have in not bursting into tears.’

  Emma swallowed, having been aware, of course, that Louise was by no means recovered yet. That was impossible, but at least some progress was being made.

  Curepipe was the chief residential town of the island, with interesting shops where Emma bought her mother a Chinese ivory carving and some hand-embroidered handkerchiefs. From Curepipe they drove to the Machabee Forests where a guide showed them trees a thousand years old; later they stopped at the Plaine Champagne, parking the car and taking the five minutes’ walk to get a spectacular view of the Rivière Noire gorges where all was silent, motionless—except for the roar of the waterfalls. No other sound or movement.

  ‘It’s eerie,’ said Louise, but Emma did not find it so. Finally they stopped for afternoon tea at a cafe on a glorious, palm-studded beach where the lagoon looked like blue glass, without a ripple as it touched the shore.

  ‘It’s been a lovely day out.’ Contentedly Emma leant back in her seat, while Louise drove back to the chateau, passing a sugar factory and miles of estates with many white villas for the employees. An Indian temple came as a surprise, but it was the flowers that often caught and held Emma’s attention—the flaring hibiscus,
crimson, rich pink, orange. The delicate allamandas, the lovely flame trees and numerous others, all lending flamboyant colour and shape and scent.

  It was half-past seven when they arrived back. Dinner was served to them by Kamal, a tall, Creole manservant with a broad smile and dark, happy eyes.

  ‘We are to have company,’ he said by way of casual conversation as he laid down the large tray on which was far more than the girls needed—chicken and lamb, both served with rice, and pastries to follow.

  ‘Company?’ echoed Louise. ‘You mean, someone is coming to stay here?’

  He nodded his head.

  ‘Monsieur’s mother and brother, and, I believe, a distant cousin. They are coming for a week.’ He bowed and went out.

  ‘You never mentioned any relatives.’ Emma now wondered why she should have assumed Paul to have only the one relative, his sister who was in Sri Lanka.

  ‘Oh, didn’t I? Mrs. Winnick mentioned them. He has another sister besides Mrs. Winnick, that is, and a brother. His mother lives in the Seychelles and comes over about once every six months, but she didn’t come while I was with the Winnicks.’

  ‘A week. . . .’ Emma looked at her sister, watching her serve the meats onto the plates. ‘I’m sure I shall feel in the way.’

  ‘This house is large enough.’

  ‘Yes. In any case, you and I shan’t be invited to meet these people.’

  But Emma was mistaken. Paul made a point of introducing Emma to his mother, a woman of elegance and charm, with immaculate blue-grey hair and a clear, dark skin. She seemed interested to know why Emma was here, and so it seemed that Paul hadn’t bothered to explain anything.

  ‘So you’re Louise’s sister? It’ll be nice for her to have you here. How long are you staying?’

  ‘About another week, I think.’

  ‘And how long have you already had?’ They were in the salon; it was three days since the outing, and two, since Louise had taken Emma up to spend the entire day on the most glorious beach on the island, far north, and a little south of Cap Malheureux. Louise was now back on duty, and at this moment on her way to bring Jeremy from school.