Dangerous Inheritance

by Dennis Wheatley

  In consequence, when Douglas had waylaid Richard the following morning their talk had been smooth and affable. Rajapakse had expected violent opposition; but he did not resort to belligerence. He said with urbane and self-confident courtesy:

  ‘Sir, I owe you a profound apology. Before asking Fleur to become my wife I should have asked if you would be willing to accept me as a son-in-law.’

  Richard smiled. ‘Then I’ll credit you with the intention; although in these days it doesn’t even seem to occur to most young men to ask the parents’ consent before proposing to their daughter. But are you quite sure that it’s really a good idea that you and Fleur should marry? After all, you’ve known one another only about ten days.’

  ‘Those days, sir, we have spent together. The time was ample for us to realise how much we mean to one another. Perhaps you are unaware of it, but on Saturday we spent the day alone in a sailing boat. It was then we opened our hearts. I did not exactly propose to Fleur. I only told her that I felt a deeper love for her than for any woman I had ever met. And I suggested that she should come out to Ceylon to stay with my parents. But I did make it clear that if she then liked our way of life, and saw more of me in my normal surroundings, I hoped that she would decide to remain there as my wife.’

  ‘That was fair enough,’ Richard commented. ‘In fact, entirely honourable. The only thing that worries me and my wife is the question of your being, well… of such completely different races and cultures. I find it difficult to believe that such a union could turn out happily.’

  Forgive me again if I mention that the élite families of the Sinhalese, such as mine, enjoyed poetry and discussed philosophy, possessed libraries, dressed in fine raiment and took a bath daily, when yours were still painting themselves with woad. What I would like to say is that, apart from my love for Fleur, I can offer her more than most Englishmen can in these days. My firm is an old-established and prosperous one. My father is a wealthy man. I am his only son and shall come into his fortune when he dies. Fleur will live in a large house with every comfort. It contains many fine examples of Eastern art and has a pleasant garden. We should also go to a bungalow up in the highlands at Nuwara Eliya, where Fleur would live in pleasant conditions during the great heats. In Ceylon we have never had a colour-bar, and I have many European friends; so she would not be cut off from white society. She could have as many servants as she liked; which means that she would have plenty of free time to give to the work of Family Planning that she is so eager to take up. And, of course, while in Colombo there is dancing, tennis and wonderful bathing, which she would have ample time to enjoy.’

  ‘Then you are right,’ Richard nodded. ‘That sounds a much more pleasant life than most young women in England can look forward to when they marry. Well, there it is. The only thing my wife and I are concerned about is Fleur’s happiness; and if you are both set on marrying we must hope that it will work out.’

  When Richard told Marie Lou of this conversation, she said, ‘It all sounds marvellous, but for one thing. There is no getting over the fact that he is an Asiatic. They are different from us. As different as chalk from cheese. For a while, of course, they will be turtle doves and Fleur will cheerfully put up with all sorts of little things that she would otherwise resent. Then she’ll begin to kick, then there will be trouble. She will become miserable and, as the wife of an Asiatic, she’ll be no more than his chattel. Even if he sets her free, what then? The type of man we’d like her to marry is going to think twice before he takes on the cast-off of a coloured man. It’s no good my talking to her, but I’m going to stop it if I can. I’ll go and talk to Greyeyes. He’s such a shrewd old darling, he may be able to suggest some subtle means of breaking this frightful thing up.’

  She found the Duke in his room, but he did not prove very helpful. He, too, was of the opinion that such marriages rarely worked well; but, as he pointed out, Fleur having led her own life for several years it was impossible to job backwards and attempt to dictate to her. All he could suggest was that they should do their utmost to persuade her to agree to a long engagement.

  ‘I mean to do that in any case,’ said Marie Lou. ‘If only we can get her back to England and keep her there for a few months, she may meet someone else and break it off with this awful man.’

  ‘My dear, you must not think of him as an awful man,’ de Richleau said gently. ‘He is a very charming fellow, and you cannot blame him for having fallen in love with Fleur. But I was about to say that I think your chances of getting Fleur back to England are very slender. I doubt, too, if that would serve your purpose. Much better appear quite willing that she should go to Ceylon, provided she will agree to a long engagement. When she has spent several months there with Douglas as her constant companion their passion for one another may burn itself out. Again, it will give her a chance to see how different these people’s private way of life is from ours, and when she has she may decide that an Englishman would make a more satisfactory husband after all.’

  Marie Lou considered for a moment, then she said, ‘I suppose you’re right. But I won’t let her go alone.’

  ‘If you went with her it would mean your being away from Cardinal’s Folly for most of the summer.’

  ‘That can’t be helped. In young Jeffson we are lucky in having an excellent bailiff. He is perfectly capable of looking after the herd and the crops without being overseen by Richard.’

  ‘You would both go, then?’

  ‘Of course. Except during the war and at other times when it’s been imperative, Richard and I have never been separated for more than a few nights since we married. We couldn’t bear to be.’

  De Richleau nodded thoughtfully. ‘In that case, I shall reconsider the decision I took when I first heard about my strange inheritance. You were right, of course, about it being too great a risk for anyone of my age to go to Ceylon on his own. But it is a lovely island. I’d like to see it again, and heat is good for my old bones. If you and Richard are going, I know you would look after me; so I think I will come with you.’

  A sudden smile lit Marie Lou’s lovely heart-shaped face. ‘Oh, Greyeyes, we would love you to. We’d be terribly strict in seeing that you did not do too much, and take the greatest care of you.’

  Thus, after all these comings and goings, lunch on the terrace was by no means the usual gay and carefree meal.

  Fleur, knowing how strongly her parents must disapprove of her engagement, was belligerently on the defensive; while Marie Lou, who had never been good at hiding her feelings, found it difficult to be polite to Douglas. He, sensing her hostility, after one or two attempts to break it down fell almost silent in spite of Richard’s rather too obvious attempts to be pleasant to him. The old Duke alone seemed completely at his ease and kept the conversation going on trivialities.

  It was not until they were having their coffee that Richard took the bull by the horns, and said, ‘Well, in view of what took place last night, hadn’t we better make some plans? I take it, Douglas, you’ve no wish to rush things, and would be agreeable to just being engaged to Fleur for the time being.’

  ‘Certainly, sir,’ Rajapakse replied promptly. ‘The last thing I would wish is to hurry Fleur into a marriage of this kind before she has got to know my family and the sort of life we lead.’

  At that Fleur’s mouth dropped, for he had taken the wind out of her sails.

  ‘Fine,’ said Richard. ‘That’s very sensible. Shall we say six months?’

  ‘No, Daddy!’ Fleur shook her head in violent protest. ‘That’s absurd. Long engagements went out of fashion ages ago. Besides, I’m twenty-four and not getting any younger.’

  De Richleau laughed. ‘That’s a terrible age to be, my child. In no time at all you will be pulling out your grey hairs. But, seriously, you are proposing to make your home and live your life in entirely different circumstances from those in which you were brought up. In fairness to your future husband, if to no-one else, you should satisfy yourself that you can mak
e him happy there. To do so I suggest three months would not be unreasonable.’

  Fleur hesitated. ‘Well, all right Grandpa. That is provided that no objections are raised to my going with Douglas when he flies home from Rome on the 11th.’

  ‘I’ve nothing against that,’ Richard declared cheerfully. ‘In fact, your mother and I felt sure you would wish to. The 11th is next Sunday, so we’ve got the whole week and I shouldn’t think there are heavy bookings for Ceylon at this time of year. With luck, there should be places on the same aircraft for all of us. I’ll telephone the B.O.A.C. office in Rome this afternoon.’

  ‘For all of us!’ Fleur echoed. ‘But surely …’

  ‘Yes, dear,’ Marie Lou said quickly. ‘You can’t have thought we’d let you get married without a proper trousseau, and getting it ready will take several weeks.’

  ‘That’s sweet of you, Mummy. But you say you don’t want me to get married for another three months, and assembling a trousseau won’t take all that long. If you came out towards the end of July that would give you time enough.’

  ‘It was my idea that we should all go out now,’ the Duke put in smoothly. ‘In the company of your parents I’ll come to no harm. Douglas tells me that my late cousin made quite a fortune mining for precious stones. Parts of Ceylon are very rich in them, you know. We’ll all go up to Olenevka and select enough jewels to deck you out like the Queen of Sheba.’

  ‘Oh, Grandpa!’ Fleur’s eyes danced with delight. ‘How terribly sweet of you.’

  So matters were settled. The remainder of the week passed uneventfully, its halcyon days being all too short for Douglas and Fleur. On Friday the 9th, with the Duke’s elderly valet, Max, in attendance, they left for Rome, and they should have taken off from there in the weekly Britannia service on the afternoon of the 11th for Ceylon. But they learned that the flight had been delayed; so they did not, after all, get off from Rome until the Monday morning.

  Twenty hours later, after calling at Damascus, Bahrein and Bombay, they landed in Ceylon, thus arriving in the early morning of the 13th, a date long regarded by the superstitious as unlucky. For them it marked the beginning of a long series of anxieties and dangers, culminating in a desperate struggle to keep their freedom and their lives that they did not all survive.

  7

  A Rose with Many Thorns

  They landed early in the morning at Katunayake, the great R.A.F. Base which, together with the historic Naval Base at Trincomalee, had been handed over to Ceylon only seven months earlier, marking the final withdrawal of British power.

  It was surrounded by lines of coconut palms through which could be glimpsed the sparkling sea. Douglas’s presence ensured them a quick passage through Immigration and Customs, and his father had sent two cars to meet them. By the time they set off for Colombo the sun was well up, it was pleasantly warm and the air balmy.

  Fleur had never before been in the tropics, and during the hour’s drive she could hardly have had a more pleasing sight of them. The road ran all the way through what had once been primitive jungle but was now a highly populated area. Along some stretches, palms, bread-fruit trees and frangipani, with almost bare branches but lovely flowers, grew in riotous confusion. Along others there were coconut groves alternating with broad belts of paddy fields; and all the vegetation was a startlingly vivid green.

  Every few miles there was a village. Each had its school, either Buddhist or Catholic, and a dozen or more untidy, open-fronted shops, all of which seemed to offer the same goods—cotton garments, sweets, Coca-Cola and great heaps of tropical fruit and vegetables. The houses were small, and mostly wooden structures; but many were of brick covered with stucco and had absurdly elaborate porticos for their size. All of them had little gardens in front, gay with flowers, and even the most tumbledown shacks had a few pots of flowering plants outside their doors.

  All the way there was a lot of traffic: many cars, mostly of ancient vintage and often piled high with produce, and here and there a slow-moving cart drawn by hump-backed oxen. The people were light brown, small, slim, upright; the younger women pretty above the average, although their looks were often marred by protruding teeth. As it is an ancient custom to let the hair grow long, many of the men had theirs done up in big buns on the top of the head. The majority of both sexes were in native dress, the women in garments of several brilliant colours which never seemed to clash. Occasionally they passed an old man, nearly naked and carrying a tall staff as he made his way along the road, or a shaven-headed Buddhist priest wearing the yellow robe. There were, too, countless children of all ages, dressed in white European-style uniform, clutching a load of books, on their way to school.

  After such sights Colombo, at first, was disappointing. There were no wide straight streets or spacious squares, but seemingly endless roads lined with decayed-looking houses and squalid shops. As they penetrated the city it seemed to be one vast slum. Then, at a snail’s pace, the cars edged their way through a long narrow street jammed with traffic. On one side of it rose a high wall enclosing the docks, on the other were alleys that led to the fish market. The stench was appalling and every fifty yards or so a bedraggled old beggar lay asleep on the pavement.

  But at length they got through to a few better streets in the district known as ‘the Fort’, and to the south of it came out on to a broad esplanade. Inland across a wide stretch of grass stood the imposing House of Representatives and other fine Government buildings and at the far end lay the palatial block of the Galle Face Hotel.

  When Ceylon had been under British rule this had been considered one of the finest hotels in Asia, and Douglas said that although it was not quite what it had been he was sure they would find it comfortable. For the Duke he had secured a suite on the first floor, usually reserved for V.I.P.s. The rooms were vast, air-conditioned and looked out on the esplanade; but for the others he had been able to get rooms only in the further block, to which they had to walk through a quarter of a mile of passages. Having seen to it that they had everything they wanted, it was agreed that he should bring his parents to meet them at cocktail time, then he went off to his home. Tired after their long journey, they all had baths and went to bed.

  When evening came they gathered in the long cocktail lounge at the front of the hotel. Soon afterwards Douglas arrived with his father and mother. Mr. Anton Rajapakse proved to be a small bald man, wearing enormous tortoiseshell glasses; his wife was much larger and a formidable looking woman with a big hooked nose, from whom Douglas had obviously acquired his slightly aquiline features.

  When the Duke offered drinks, Mrs. Rajapakse asked for a gin-sling; her husband said he was a teetotaller and would like tea. When it was brought Fleur was surprised to see the waiter set down a glass pint tankard that tinkled with ice and had slices of lime and sprigs of mint in it; but she was soon to learn that iced tea served in this way was a favourite drink in Ceylon.

  After the first few rather awkward minutes Mr. Rajapakse laid himself out to be pleasant. He said that he had always been on excellent terms with the British, and greatly admired them; so he was very happy that his son should have brought home an English bride, and particularly such a lovely one as Fleur. Mrs. Rajapakse nodded agreement and showed her obviously false teeth in a smile; but Marie Lou formed the impression that Douglas’s mother was by no means so enthusiastic about her son’s choice.

  For about half an hour they talked mainly of sights that the visitors must be taken to see while on the island, and it was arranged that they should dine with the Rajapakses the following night; then with handshakes and bows Douglas’s parents departed.

  Next morning Douglas came to the hotel and, leaving the old Duke in bed, they drove along to the Fort. As a shopping centre Fleur found its few streets disappointing. There was one big store called Cargills, but no little boutiques of the sort she had hoped to find. However, she was cheered up by Douglas taking her to a jeweller named Gunasena. It was a tiny shop but stocked with thousands of set and unset
stones, mostly mined in Ceylon—sapphires of many shades, topazes, zircons, moonstones, garnets and catseyes. He also had diamonds but Fleur felt that for her engagement ring she ought to have a stone of the country, so she chose a beautiful square sapphire. Then Douglas insisted on also buying her a bracelet made up of a dozen fine semi-precious stones, each a different colour.

  That afternoon they took their bathing things and drove out the five miles to Mount Lavinia. A big hotel was delightfully situated there on the far point overlooking a charming little bay with both sand and smooth rocks, and the water was so clear that they could see the bottom many feet down.

  When they were having tea on the terrace afterwards, Douglas had to drive off several large crows that were attempting to snatch the cake from Fleur’s plate. Laughing, he told her that the crows in Ceylon were a positive curse, for they were as bold as brass and inveterate thieves; and, if she were not sleeping in an air-conditioned room, would come in at the open window and make off with any jewellery she had left on her dressing table.

  De Richleau, still feeling the strain of the long flight, had asked to be excused from dining with the Rajapakses that evening; but the others accompanied Douglas to his parents’ house. It was a large airy building with wide verandahs and a well-kept garden, out in the best residential suburb. The evening passed off pleasantly enough, although Fleur got no closer to Douglas’s mother, and was somewhat disconcerted when she was asked if she knew the Queen, whom she did not. It then emerged that Mrs. Rajapakse and her sister—another bulky and formidable lady—who was present, had both been presented when Her Majesty had visited Ceylon in 1954, and had escorted her round the home for invalid children. There was, too, another awkward moment when Douglas’s aunt expressed the fervent hope that Fleur would have at least six children, as she had definitely made up her mind that three was to be the limit.