THE TEA PLANTER'S DAUGHTER:A wonderfully moving story of courage and enduring love: First in the India Tea Series

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘I’ll say a prayer for Lucinda,’ she promised.

  ‘I don’t — even know where she’s — buried,’ Louisa groaned.

  Clarrie searched for words of comfort. ‘The Khassia believe that when a child dies, the soul takes the form of a bird and flies away, free from pain.’

  ‘A bird?’ Louisa repeated.

  ‘Yes. The Khassia hills are full of beautiful, colourful birds.’

  For the first and only time, Clarrie saw the trace of a smile flicker across Louisa’s pained face.

  ‘I like that,’ she murmured. ‘A beautiful bird.’ She gazed on Clarrie with haunted eyes and whispered something so softly that Clarrie had to bend close to hear it.

  ‘Thank you — for befriending — Will.’

  After that, she closed her eyes and said nothing more. Clarrie tiptoed out and left her to rest. She met Herbert and Will coming up the stairs with a tray of tea and burnt toasted currant buns. Hearing that his wife was asleep, Herbert steered her back into his study.

  ‘We’re not very good at looking after ourselves without Dolly,’ he apologised, offering her the plate of blackened teacakes.

  ‘Is it her day off?’ Clarrie asked, taking one anyway. Lily never baked sweet things, burnt or otherwise.

  Herbert nodded, glancing at Will who was kneeling by the fire studying the backgammon game. He lowered his voice. ‘Our cook had to leave unexpectedly last month to look after her sister’s family. And, as you can see, my wife is bed-bound. She is used to doing all the household arrangements — takes pride in it — would never have a housekeeper.’ He hesitated, looking uncomfortable. ‘But domestically, well, things have slipped a bit, as you can probably tell.’

  He paused to pour out the tea. It looked black as treacle. Herbert continued, giving her cautious glances.

  ‘I’ve been trying to persuade Mrs Stock to agree to hiring some help while she convalesces. She’s finally agreed that we need a housekeeper-cum-cook. Bertie’s of the opinion we should advertise, but Mrs Stock doesn’t want a stranger in the house.

  ‘She wants someone from the church.’ He cleared his throat. ‘That’s why we thought — well, Mrs Stock wanted to see you first. It’s important to her that it’s someone who can put up with Will.’

  ‘Put up with me?’ Will piped up. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m talking to Clarrie,’ Herbert said brusquely.

  ‘Are you offering me the position of housekeeper?’ Clarrie exclaimed.

  ‘Umm, well, yes, I suppose I am. You did say you were used to running a household—’

  ‘Yes,’ Clarrie said at once. ‘I’d like that very much. Of course I’ll take it.’

  Will jumped up and clapped in excitement. ‘Oh, Papa, is Clarrie going to come and live here?’

  ‘Yes.’ Herbert smiled in relief. ‘There’s just one thing that concerns me. Are you quite sure the Belhavens can spare you? We don’t wish to disrupt their business.’

  Clarrie retorted, ‘They managed fine before we came. I’m sure Mrs Belhaven will be glad to see the back of us; she makes no secret of how much she dislikes me and Olive.’

  ‘Olive?’ Herbert frowned. ‘Oh dear, I wasn’t thinking of offering a place to your sister too.’

  Clarrie’s face fell. She put down the over-strong cup of tea.

  ‘I couldn’t leave Olive in that place by herself, Mr Stock. You’ve no idea how hard it can be. She’d never manage on her own. Besides, she can bake and sew and play the violin — she could give Will lessons. She can paint too.’

  ‘Oh, yes, Papa,’ Will said eagerly, ‘I’d like to learn the violin as well as the piano. Can I?’

  Herbert scratched his chin in thought. ‘It hadn’t occurred to me. I’m sorry. I’ll have to consult Mrs Stock. And Bertie, when he gets back from staying with the Landsdownes, will no doubt have an opinion on the matter.’

  Clarrie nodded, her stomach clenching at the thought that the promise of escape might be snatched away again.

  ‘And if we say no to hiring Olive as well,’ Herbert asked, ‘what would your answer be?’

  Despite her longing to escape Cherry Terrace at any cost, Clarrie did not hesitate.

  ‘I’d have to say no, Mr Stock. I’ve promised Olive I’ll never leave her,’ she said firmly, ‘and it’s a promise I will always keep.’

  CHAPTER 11

  ‘We’re not a damned charity, Papa!’ Bertie was indignant. ‘It’s bad enough you want to employ some half-caste Indian girl — a barmaid, for God’s sake! — as housekeeper. Now we have to take in her wretched consumptive sister.’

  Herbert was taken aback by his son’s vehemence. ‘She’s not consumptive.’

  ‘How do you know? She certainly looks as if a puff of wind would blow her over.’ Bertie was contemptuous. ‘We know nothing about these girls, except that they’re related to those awful Belhavens. They run a spit and sawdust pub in the roughest part of Elswick and that pie woman stinks the church out on a Sunday.’

  Herbert got up from behind his desk and started pacing in front of the window again. He was feeling browbeaten by his eldest son — had done for the past two days, since Bertie’s return from the Landsdownes’ country lodge near Rothbury. Bertie’s criticism could be relentless, but he was an intelligent young man and far more in tune with what was socially acceptable than either of his parents. Perhaps that was the influence of Verity, whose brother Clive had been at prep school with Bertie. The Landsdownes were a step up the social ladder from the Stocks and Bertie was transparently in love with the demure daughter of the house. Pretty but vain and rather humourless was Herbert’s opinion, but that was Bertie’s affair.

  ‘Papa,’ Bertie threw up his hands, with a suddenly disarming smile that reminded Herbert of Louisa, ‘you’re a good man. I know you’re trying to be kind to these unfortunate orphans, but what matters is whether they are capable at household affairs and suitable companions for Mama. I really don’t see how the daughters of a second-rate major who made a mess of tea planting — and some Indian wife — can possibly be proper company for my dear, sick mother.’

  Herbert looked at him in astonishment. ‘How on earth do you know all that about the Misses Belhaven?’

  Bertie suppressed a smug look. ‘I’ve made it my business to find out, ever since you floated this madcap idea. The Landsdownes know something of the tea trade in India; some branch of the family are planters in Assam and tea brokers in London. Verity’s very concerned about it all.’

  Herbert felt niggled. ‘Well, that’s very good of her, but this is our decision, not the Landsdownes’, for all their connections. I, for one, think Clarrie quite presentable; she’s bright and industrious and always cheerful. Will adores her—’

  Bertie guffawed. ‘You’re going to make an appointment on the strength of what that scamp thinks? The boy’s a dreamer; he thinks they’re Indian princesses or some such nonsense. Lord above, Papa! You’ll be employing a pixie for a gardener and a tooth fairy in the laundry next!’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Herbert sighed. ‘And it’s not just Will. Your mother seems set on taking them both in too. And quite frankly, I’m so concerned about her health that I’d employ anyone she wanted. Perhaps the Belhaven girls will be able to cheer her up.’

  ‘But that’s just it,’ Bertie said angrily, sensing the battle being lost, ‘she’s in no condition to be making such decisions. We should be making them for her. And I believe we should be protecting her from these bizarre young women. They come without references, apart from Will’s childish enthusiasm. We need to advertise the position in the normal way and take on someone competent for the job. Mama should have a properly trained nurse in attendance.’

  Herbert felt stung by the implication that he was failing his wife. He had tried to bring in nursing help on several occasions, but Louisa had sent them away.

  ‘I’m not ill,’ she had said bleakly, ‘I’m just tired.’

  Herbert rubbed at his aching rheumatic leg and gazed
out at the sheltered square. The first yellow trumpets of spring daffodils were opening.

  ‘No, I’ve made up my mind,’ he said, more firmly than he felt. ‘I’m going to offer a place to both Belhaven sisters.’

  He heard Bertie let go a contemptuous oath and march from the room, slamming the door behind him. Herbert let out a long sigh. He seemed incapable of making any of his family happy. Louisa always said that he was too lenient with Bertie yet too hard on Will. Well, he had stood up to Bertie now and no doubt his forceful son would take every opportunity to point out his foolishness in the weeks to come. Bertie’s talent for being argumentative was wasted as Herbert’s articled clerk; he should have trained for the Bar. Herbert wished that his elder son would find contentment in something. Perhaps an engagement to Verity would help. He would try to encourage such a match. A happy marriage was a gift from heaven.

  Herbert clenched his jaw to stop tears welling in his throat. His beloved Louisa was fading away in that fetid bedroom and nothing he said or did seemed to be able to stop her decline. It was as if she did not care if she lived or died. Since that terrible day …! No, he would not dwell on it. She must get better. Life without her would be unthinkable. If only she would get well, he would never insist on sharing her bed again. It made him wretched to think his love and desire for her had caused her so much pain and heartbreak.

  He strode to his desk and began to write out a letter of appointment to Clarrie and Olive. They would bring life and hope into this unhappy house. Between them, they would help his wife back to her former health.

  ***

  ‘Get yerself in here!’ Lily ordered, holding out the thick, expensive envelope as if it scorched her fingers. ‘Who’s writin’ you posh letters?’

  Clarrie exchanged glances with her sister as she came in from the washhouse, wiping down her hands. Olive stood at the kitchen table, floury from pastry making, her look feverish with excitement and alarm. They knew their fate was sealed inside that letter.

  ‘Well, open it!’ Lily barked.

  Clarrie took the letter and tore it open. She read the neatly written proposal, imagining Herbert Stock sitting at the mahogany desk as he penned it. Her heart thudded in shock. She read it again, just to make sure.

  ‘It’s from Mr Stock,’ she gulped.

  ‘What’s he want?’ Lily asked suspiciously.

  Clarrie gave Olive a look of triumph. ‘He’s offering me a job as housekeeper — and Olive as housemaid.’

  Olive clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Lily’s jaw dropped open in disbelief.

  ‘We’re to start as soon as we can,’ Clarrie said breathlessly. ‘Next week if convenient.’

  ‘Convenient?’ Lily found her voice. ‘I’ll give him convenient!’ she yelled. ‘You plotted this, didn’t you? First that daft boy and now his daft father — twisted him round yer little finger.’ She marched on Clarrie. ‘What else did you offer him, eh?’

  Clarrie retorted, ‘Nothing. He was the one offering me. Their cook’s left and Mrs Stock can’t cope. They wanted someone they knew from church.’

  ‘From church?’ Lily bawled. ‘You’re nowt but heathens, dirty little half-breeds! What they want you for?’ She seized the letter from Clarrie’s hand and grabbed at her hair, yanking it in fury.

  Clarrie cried out in pain.

  ‘Leave her alone!’ Olive shouted, dashing forward and digging her fingers into Lily’s arm. ‘You’re hateful!’

  Lily threw her off and shoved her backwards. Just at that moment, Jared rushed in and nearly fell over Olive sprawled on the floor.

  ‘What’s ganin’ on?’ He took one look at his wife gripping Clarrie’s dark hair and cried, ‘Lily, let the lass be! You can hear the carry-on halfway down Scotswood Road.’

  Lily hurled Clarrie away from her with a scream of fury.

  ‘Calm yersel’, woman,’ Jared said in alarm. ‘Whatever’s happened?’

  Lily shook the letter at him, her face purple. ‘Treachery, that’s what! That’s all the gratitude I get for takin’ in your cousin’s little savages, and after showin’ them the milk of human kindness. Thrown it back in me face. I knew they’d be nowt but trouble; didn’t I warn you? But you wouldn’t be told. Now they’ve wormed their way into the Stocks’ house — my own customers! It’s too much. I’ll not let it happen. Tell them they can’t go!’

  She sank on to a hard chair and began a noisy sobbing. Clarrie helped Olive to her feet again, aghast at the sight of Lily in hysterics. The sisters held on to each other.

  As Jared read the letter, Clarrie said firmly, ‘We are going to work for the Stocks, Cousin Jared, and no one will stop us. It’s why we came to England; to find employment and provide for ourselves so we wouldn’t be a burden to anyone. We are grateful that you took us in and gave us work, but you should also be grateful that we’ve worked our fingers to the bone for you and Mrs Belhaven.’

  Jared stared at her as his wife continued to sob. ‘We’re still responsible for you both,’ he reminded her, ‘until you come of age. That’s not until next year, lass. We should’ve been consulted.’ He gave her a stubborn look. ‘I don’t want to stand in the way of your advancement, Clarrie, but we’ll expect to be compensated.’

  ‘Compensated?’ Clarrie echoed.

  ‘Aye.’ Jared nodded. ‘You’re family and you’re wage earners. I’d expect Mr Stock to pay over half yer wages to us, yer guardians.’

  Lily abruptly stopped crying and looked between them. ‘That’s right, you’ll pay us. It’s the least you can do. You’ll not gan to the Stocks till it’s sorted out.’

  Clarrie held on to her temper. Family indeed! The Belhavens had a cheek to demand so much after the way they had treated Olive and herself. But it was a price worth paying to escape depressing Cherry Terrace and its endless drudgery.

  ‘Half our wages then,’ Clarrie agreed, ‘until I turn twenty-one next year.’

  Lily pointed at Olive and sniffed indignantly. ‘Until that lass turns twenty-one.’

  Clarrie faced her. ‘No, Mrs Belhaven. Once I’m of age Olive shall be my responsibility and no one else’s.’

  She felt Olive s hand squeeze hers in support.

  ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’ Jared grunted, and retreated back to the bar.

  CHAPTER 12

  Lily did not speak to either sister again until they left the following week. She made them eat in the scullery and gave orders through Jared or Harrison. They were given heavy spring-cleaning chores, such as washing all the blankets, on top of their daily jobs.

  But nothing could dampen Clarrie and Olive’s excitement at leaving. Lexy and Ina were cock-a-hoop for their friend.

  ‘Good on yer, hinny,’ Ina cried, ‘you deserve some’at better.’

  ‘If it’s high quality they’re after,’ Lexy laughed, ‘put a word in for us, lass.’

  Only when Clarrie asked after Maggie did their good humour vanish.

  ‘Gone back to him, hasn’t she?’ Lexy sighed.

  ‘Frightened not to,’ Ina explained.

  ‘Can’t afford not to,’ Lexy added indignantly.

  Clarrie felt wretched for them all. She almost confided her idea of a tea room but thought that they might laugh at her too. Besides, she had failed to convince the Belhavens so it was never going to happen.

  Clarrie and Olive had so little to pack that they left it to the Monday morning of their going. Jared had risked the wrath of his wife by offering them a lift on the rolley. When Olive looked under the bed, she gave a cry of distress.

  ‘It’s gone!’

  ‘What has?’ Clarrie asked.

  ‘My violin — it’s not there!’

  Clarrie placed the candle on the floor and peered into the shadows. ‘When’s the last time you played it?’

  Olive frowned. ‘Weeks ago. You know how that woman hates it.’

  ‘Lily!’ Clarrie hissed. ‘She’ll have hidden it just to spite us.’

  At breakfast, Clarrie con
fronted’ her.

  ‘Tell her, Mr Belhaven,’ Lily replied via her husband, ‘that I haven’t hidden that instrument of the devil; wouldn’t want it in my house.’

  ‘Then where’s it gone?’ Clarrie persisted.

  ‘Tell her,’ Lily said with a satisfied look, ‘that it’s sold.’

  ‘You’ve never sold it?’ Olive gasped, her face crumpling.

  ‘You had no right to!’ Clarrie was furious. ‘That belonged to our father.’

  ‘Lily, dear—’ Jared looked shocked.

  ‘Don’t Lily me,’ she snapped. ‘The money it fetched goes only a little way to paying for all the extra food this pair have cost me. So don’t you gan feeling sorry for them.’

  Olive was distraught. In the scullery, Clarrie tried to comfort her.

  ‘We’ll buy it back again,’ she fumed, ‘by heck we will! She might not tell us which pawnshop she went to, but we’ll find it. I’ll get word to Ina and Lexy to keep an eye out.’

  Leaving the scullery for the last time, Clarrie got hold of the large pickle jar.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Olive gasped.

  ‘Giving Gin-Lily a taste of her own medicine,’ Clarrie said, and poured the gin down the drain.

  It was a blustery April day when they left Cherry Terrace, perched up on the rolley with their trunk and waving a farewell to Harrison.

  ‘Come and see us at Summerhill,’ Clarrie encouraged him. ‘We’ll give you a cup of tea when you call with the pies.’

  Clarrie had forced herself to say a civil goodbye to Lily, but the woman had ignored her and she had not lingered. Her spirits lifted higher with each yard that Barny pulled them further away from the pub. She sat with her arm round Olive, unable to keep a grin of delight from her face. Arriving at the back door of the Stocks’ tall town house, Jared helped Clarrie carry the trunk down the basement steps.

  Dolly came out to greet them in a billow of smoke. ‘By, I’m glad to see you, miss. Range is smoking like a chimney.’

  ‘Probably the flue,’ Jared said. ‘There’s a sweep comes in the pub — I’ll send him round if you like.’