THE PLANTER'S BRIDE: A story of intrigue and passion: sequel to THE TEA PLANTER'S DAUGHTER (India Tea Series Book 2)

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘Tam, I do have something important to say. Unless you’ve guessed already?’

  ‘Guessed what?’ he looked alarmed.

  ‘It’s nothing bad. We’re going to have a baby. I’m pregnant.’

  He gaped at her, speechless.

  ‘It’s true,’ she smiled. ‘Are you pleased?’

  She saw tears spring into his eyes. He swallowed hard. ‘That’s wonderful,’ he croaked. ‘How long have you been–?’

  The sudden doubt on his face made Sophie’s stomach leaden. He still did not trust himself to believe that nothing had happened with Rafi.

  ‘You should know,’ she chided. ‘Since Changa Manga.’

  ‘That’s grand.’ He seized her hands and kissed them, hardly able to speak. She had never seen him so emotional. Tam put a hand to her face. ‘I need you lassie. This proves your love for me, doesn’t it?’

  Sophie nodded, though she felt empty inside.

  Tam gave out a triumphant cry. ‘I’m going to be a father! Oh, Mrs Telfer, I’m over the moon about the baby.’

  Sophie reached out to him. ‘So am I.’

  They hugged.

  ‘This setback won’t last,’ Tam was bullish, ‘it’s just hill station gossip that will die off in the cold season. I’ll still get the promotion. I’m the best man for the job.’

  Chapter 36

  Shillong

  A month into the monsoon season, Tilly received a note at the Rankins’ house.

  ‘It’s from Burke, the old police officer,’ Tilly told Ros. ‘He wants to meet me. What should I do?’

  She felt a mix of fear and excitement.

  ‘Perhaps he’s going to give you some more information,’ Ros said. ‘Probably all of Shillong know of your interest by now.’

  ‘You think I’ve become obsessed, don’t you?’

  Ros gave her a long look. ‘I think you’re spending too much time at the library letting Porter fill your head full of lurid imaginings. You’re here to enjoy yourself with baby Jamie. Don’t waste away your time on the dead.’

  Tilly felt chastened. ‘I’m sorry; I’m being a boring friend. You and your father are being so kind. I’ll tell him not to call.’

  ‘Oh, I know that’ll half kill you,’ Ros snorted with laughter. ‘You might as well see him and see what he has to say,’ she relented. ‘Then you can put it all behind you and get on with our holiday.’

  ‘I will, I promise,’ Tilly grinned.

  ***

  Samuel Burke was as wide as he was tall; a bear of a man with wiry grey hair, trim moustache and a glass eye that glared with permanent suspicion. An old Jack Russell followed at his heels, growling and drooling. It snapped at Tilly when she tried to pet it.

  ‘Doesn’t like women,’ Burke said.

  Tilly and the Rankins took tea with him on the veranda. The Major chatted amiably about fishing, but Burke showed little interest and had no small talk. Something he had in common with James, Tilly thought.

  She watched him demolish a plate of sandwiches, some of which he fed to the bad-tempered dog. Ros caught Tilly’s look and rolled her eyes. Tilly wished she hadn’t invited the man; she must end the awkward tea party as soon possible.

  ‘So, Mr Burke, you know my husband, James?’ she ended the silence.

  Through masticating jaws, Burke nodded. ‘Sensible man. Last saw him when he was up for a wedding last year. Army Doctor.’

  ‘That was my brother Johnny’s wedding!’ Tilly exclaimed. ‘Do you know him too?’

  ‘No. Wasn’t there myself. Robson and I had a chinwag at the club. Didn’t tell me he was married.’

  ‘We weren’t then,’ Tilly blushed. ‘It all happened very quickly when he was on leave.’

  ‘Does Robson know you’re asking questions about the Logans?’

  ‘N-not as such. But he knows I want to find out as much as I can for my Cousin Sophie.’

  He fixed her with his good eye. ‘And what has your husband told you?’

  ‘That you called him to the bungalow – he didn’t say it was Belgooree – and that you found the Logans dead of fever and Sophie on her own.’

  ‘And that’s all there is to it,’ Burke said, slurping off his tea. ‘Terribly tragic.’

  ‘But there are too many things that don’t add up,’ Tilly said. ‘It was Sophie’s birthday and she remembers playing hide and seek with her mother – she doesn’t remember her being ill at all.’

  ‘Fever can strike and kill in hours,’ he replied. Tilly ignored the stock response.

  ‘But what was the ayah doing running away with a kitten and leaving Sophie–’

  ‘Kitten?’ Burke frowned. ‘She thought it was a kitten?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tilly answered, surprised by his reaction. ‘Wasn’t it?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ Burke blustered. ‘The ayah was gone by the time we arrived on the scene.’

  ‘So who got word to you that they were dead?’ Ros interjected.

  He trained his suspicious eye on Tilly’s friend. ‘I don’t recall.’

  ‘And was there a doctor?’ Ros asked.

  ‘Or was there foul play?’ Tilly dared to ask.

  Abruptly, he stood up, thanked them curtly for tea, shook the major by the hand and made for the door, his dog padding behind. Tilly went after him.

  ‘Mr Burke, it was you who wanted to see me,’ she reminded, ‘but you’re going without telling me anything new.’

  A servant held out his topee and walking stick at the front door. He took them without acknowledgement, facing Tilly.

  ‘Go back to your husband, Mrs Robson, and stop stirring up the past. You won’t find anything and Robson won’t thank you for trying.’ He leaned closer, his tone threatening. ‘You don’t know what you’re dabbling with. You could be putting James in a dangerous position if you continue to ignore our advice to leave well alone.’

  ‘Danger? How?’ Tilly gasped.

  He pulled on his hat. ‘Go home,’ he ordered and barrelled out of the door.

  Chapter 37

  Punjab

  Back at Changa Manga, Sophie’s relationship with Tam improved. He fussed over her with a tenderness she had not thought he possessed.

  ‘No tennis for you, lassie,’ he ordered, ‘and no riding around on horseback. I’m going to cosset you and our child. You can have anything you want. I’ll get Hafiz to bake you cake – I know you can’t bear the smell of curry just now. Shall I send for Tilly to keep you company? Or Clarrie Robson?’

  Sophie laughed, touched by his eagerness and concern. ‘No, we can’t expect them to drop everything and come half way across India just because you are keeping me in purdah and won’t let me do anything.’

  ‘Perhaps we should move to Lahore now?’ Tam worried. ‘It’s too unhealthy here in the jungle. We can go up for a couple of days and look around for a new bungalow – Golf Road or somewhere with a big enough garden for the baby and its friends to play in.’

  Sophie cupped his face in her hands. He had aged in the past year but was still wolfishly handsome.

  ‘The baby won’t need a garden for ages,’ she smiled. Silently she thought it foolish to go renting anywhere until they knew for definite where Tam’s next posting would be. But he was touchy about the subject – there was still no confirmation of promotion – and Sophie knew better than to mention it.

  ‘You’re right, we mustn’t jump the gun.’ Tam kissed her forehead.

  But all their conversations revolved around the longed-for son or daughter. Sophie wondered what they had talked about before.

  ‘Where do you want the baby to be born?’ Tam asked her one evening, stretching out his tired limbs on the veranda, enjoying the cool of evening. His ankle still gave him trouble but he always brushed away Sophie’s concern.

  ‘It depends where we are next spring,’ she answered with a cautious glance.

  ‘I thought you might like to go back to Scotland for the birth.’

  ‘Scotland?’ Sophie was taken aback.
‘I’d never thought of that.’

  ‘It’s common practice to go Home for such things,’ Tam said, ‘and I like the thought of our child being born on Scottish soil.’

  ‘But I don’t have a home there anymore.’

  ‘Yes you do,’ Tam insisted. ‘You would go to my mother’s and my sister can help with your confinement.’

  Sophie tried to absorb the idea. ‘Would you come too?’

  ‘You know I’m not due leave for another couple of years.’

  ‘Then I don’t want to go.’

  ‘That’s just being pig-headed,’ Tam said in exasperation.

  ‘That’s rich coming from you,’ Sophie snorted.

  ‘I’ll just worry about you and the baby if you stay.’

  ‘And I’ll worry about you if I go. You need a spell in Europe more than me – remember what the doctor said?’

  They came to no conclusion. Sophie knew Tam would not give up on the idea, so instead she suggested, ‘Why don’t you invite your mother and sister out for a visit? They could come before the end of the cold season and stay for the birth. I know you miss them.’

  Tam’s face lit up. ‘I’d like that very much. But you’re the one who would have to entertain them. Would you want them here when the baby’s born?’

  Sophie nodded. ‘Carrying this child just brings home to me how important family are. I want him or her to know their granny and aunt in the same way that I knew my own special Aunt Amy.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Tam smiled in gratitude.

  ‘And I want Cousins Johnny and Tilly to come to the christening,’ she added, her eyes glittering with emotion.

  ***

  Their spell of contentment was short-lived. Tam’s fever returned. He could not crawl from bed, complaining that his limbs and head were being crushed in a vice. His temperature soared and he could keep down no food. He babbled incoherently. In lucid moments he gave Sophie despairing looks, his eyes set in hollows.

  ‘I’m going to die, aren’t I?’

  Sophie clung to his burning hand. ‘I’m not going to let you! You’re going to be a good father to our baby.’

  A doctor from the Remount rode over daily and administered large doses of quinine. ‘Should be in hospital but he’s too weak to move.’

  ‘What else can I do?’ Sophie agonised.

  ‘Keep him cool and pray hard.’

  After five days, the fever broke, leaving Tam weak and depressed. He was a sallow ghost of his former self. Sophie had seen him debilitated before, but not so listless and downhearted.

  ‘Let’s go up to Lahore for a few days – see some friends,’ Sophie suggested.

  But he just gave her a bleak look and shook his head. ‘I’ve too much work to catch up on. They’re badgering me from Lahore for reports.’

  Day after day he forced himself out of bed early to ride the plantations, overseeing the new growth that had sprung up since the rains. Sophie knew it was pointless to try and hold him back; Tam lived for work. Only the prospect that he should soon be posted to Lahore, kept her hopeful. At least there, they would be near a good hospital and his job would be more office based.

  To pass the time, Sophie took up woodwork and carving again, brushing up the skills that Auntie Amy had taught her. She made a toy box for the baby out of offcuts from the timber yard and then embarked on a tiny stool.

  Tam came limping across from the forest office one October afternoon waving a letter. His face was lit with excitement for the first time since his illness.

  ‘It’s come – Bracknall’s promotion!’

  Sophie was out on the veranda carving. Her heart jumped. Bracknall had kept his promise. She could hardly believe it.

  ‘That’s wonderful! Let me see.’

  Tam thrust it at her, babbling about the things he would do once they were back in Lahore. Sophie read the letter. She looked up in confusion.

  ‘But it doesn’t actually say you’ve got Martins’s job.’

  ‘Not in so many words,’ Tam blustered. ‘But it’s calling me to Lahore to be given my next post. What else could it mean? Bracknall will be wanting to do things properly – welcome me as his assistant – not just send a note.’

  ‘Yes, I see.’ Sophie tried to hide her disquiet.

  ‘And the date,’ Tam continued, ‘ties in with our Lodge dinner next week. No doubt I’ll be made a fuss of on the night.’

  ‘That’s good,’ she smiled.

  ‘I’ll book us into a room at Nedous Hotel,’ said Tam, ‘something grander than the old Cecil.’

  ‘Will some of the other foresters be coming to town too?’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Well Boz and McGinty.’ She felt herself redden under Tam’s sharp look. She dared not ask about Rafi, though not a day went by when she didn’t think of him. She assumed that he had been sacked from the Forest Service but Tam had told her nothing. He never spoke of his old friend.

  ‘Yes, I imagine they will. The forest Staff is back from the hills and everyone will be wanting to know where they go next.’

  ‘It’ll be good to see them,’ Sophie said, ‘and see a bit of city life again.’ With Tam insisting she mustn’t ride, she was finding life dull and restricted.

  Tam bent and squeezed her cheek. ‘Perhaps I’ll take you dancing, Mrs Telfer. Nothing too energetic, just a sedate waltz or two.’

  Sophie had a sudden image of waltzing with Rafi in the snow high up the mountain. The memory winded her.

  ‘So better start packing up this house, lassie,’ Tam grinned, ‘we’re on the move.’

  ***

  Tam left to check on the plantations at Chickawatin and beyond. ‘Want to leave things in good shape for my successor. I’ll be back in a couple of days.’

  Sophie was left to organise the packing of their china, glass and pictures into tea chests. Her enthusiasm soon waned. She returned to her carving which she found absorbing and thought often of her dear aunt who had taught her to chisel.

  The child’s stool was finished, now the toy box needed some toys to go in it. What she wanted was a light piece of pine to fashion into a boat. There was nothing suitable in the garden or the forests around. She asked Hafiz if he had anything to hand.

  ‘In the daftar,’ he suggested, pointing at the forest office across the compound. ‘Telfer Sahib keeps bits and pieces in many boxes.’

  Sophie had never been into Tam’s office; he did not like to be disturbed when working and had made it clear early on that it was his domain. After the terrible confrontation at the timber depot, she had steered clear of Tam’s working life. But it would be locked and she didn’t have a key.

  ‘Can you let me in?’

  Hafiz nodded. ‘I will fetch the key.’

  ‘There’s no need to tell Telfer Sahib about this,’ Sophie said.

  Hafiz smiled. ‘My lips are sealed, Memsahib.’

  The office was dark, the shutters closed and a musty smell greeted her. There were folders and ledger books piled on a large wooden desk. Stacked beside it were small metal trunks, presumably full of dak – the endless post and papers that came in daily – which Tam wrestled with and resented for keeping him indoors.

  There were boxes of timber samples and offcuts lining the far wall. Sophie rummaged quickly; she didn’t want to stay there long. She found a few pieces that would do for a boat and a train with carriages. Wondering if she might try a motorcycle too, she was startled by a cry and the sound of a bell at the door.

  The chaprassi was standing there with a bundle of post. Sophie hesitated then held out her hands.

  ‘I’ll take the dak, thank you.’ She wondered if Tam usually gave him some refreshment. In her rudimentary Urdu she said, ‘Go to the kitchen. Hafiz give you chapatti.’

  He saluted and disappeared. Sophie put the bundle of papers on the desk; reports that Tam would be passing on to someone else. It occurred to her that there might be further instructions about the summons to Lahore; maybe even confirmation of the new position. Sh
e could not help a nagging anxiety that Bracknall would renege on his promise. He had been frosty towards them at Dalhousie and swiftly left for Simla. There had been no social invitations to visit Mayo Gardens from Mrs Bracknall.

  Sophie went back to the desk and searched through the post. There was nothing official-looking from the Lahore Forest Headquarters. A slim letter slipped out. It was different from the others, sealed in a thin envelope for sending airmail. It must be from the senior Mrs Telfer or Flora. In excitement, Sophie wondered if it would have the reply to their invitation to visit India in the New Year.

  In the gloom, Sophie peered closer. It was addressed only to Tam. Usually Flora wrote to them both. And bafflingly it was sent care of the Forest Office and not to their home address. She walked to the open door to scrutinise it in the light. It was then that she noticed the foreign stamp and postmark: France.

  Turning it over, she saw it was from an N. Bannerman. She was curious. Who was this Bannerman writing to Tam? Perhaps someone from the War or his forestry course? But the name wasn’t French and Tam had never mentioned a comrade of that name. What did the N stand for? Her heart began to thud. She hated herself for her suspicion but something about the writing looked feminine.

  Sophie replaced the letter in the pile and gathered up her bits of wood. She hesitated. Why would this Bannerman write to Tam at the office address? Was it so that Sophie would never know? She put the wood back down. Quickly she began to rummage across the desk and through its drawers for any other sign of previous Bannerman letters. Nothing. Despising her own suspiciousness, she looked in a trunk; it was full of buff folders, all work related. Searching the other trunks and shelves produced nothing. She felt guilty relief.

  As she closed the blinds again, she saw a cash box pushed down the back of the desk. Pulling the heavy desk away from the wall she retrieved it and lifted the metal catch.

  Her throat went dry. The box was full of letters with the same blue envelopes, same handwriting. Sophie’s heart drummed. She knew she had a choice; to close the lid and dismiss the letters as those between old war friends, or read them and perhaps discover things about Tam she never wanted to know.