‘Read it,’ Tilly pleaded.
She forced down the cold drink that Aslam brought, her stomach knotting with its fizziness, while James frowned in concentration over the letter. It told everything; the fateful trek, her two nights with Rafi and what she felt for him, the ensuing scandal, Tam’s fresh bout of fever, his humiliation at being passed over for promotion, the revelations about American Nancy in France and their secret correspondence, hearing that Rafi was married and the final devastating loss of her baby.
‘ ... I would have put up with almost anything to have born and raised our child – even his love letters to Nancy – but that life has gone now. Tam is being sent back to Europe to recuperate from the fever that so debilitates him out here. I don’t intend going with him. I want him to be free from me so he can go to Nancy if that’s what will give him peace of mind. We certainly don’t make each other happy.
If you would allow it, I’d like to come and stay with you in Assam for a while. When I thought I was going to be a mother, I was constantly thinking about my own one. Am I like her? What would she think of me and the mistakes I’ve made in my life? I’ve yearned for her comforting arms.
Tilly, you are my nearest and dearest relation on this earth and I can think of no one else I’d rather be with at this time. Please can I come to you and James? I won’t outstay my welcome – just long enough to find my feet again. I’ve been longing to meet my wee cousin Jamie too – and you can tell me what it is about my parents that you have found out. I treasure the photograph you sent of their gravestone in Shillong. I will welcome any scraps of information you can give me.
Please write back quickly.
Your loving friend
Cousin Sophie.’
James gave Tilly a shattered look. ‘What a mess.’
‘I want Sophie to come here,’ she said. ‘Would you agree to that?’
James nodded. ‘Of course, she can stay as long as she wants.’ He stared down at the letter and then back at Tilly, his face grim.
‘What is all this about the Logans? How did you know where they were buried?’
‘I came across their grave by accident – Ros’s mother is buried nearby. You must have known that was where they were taken, but you never thought to tell me.’
‘Why does it matter to you?’ James demanded.
‘Because it matters to Sophie. She is desperate to know anything about them.’
‘She knows all there is to know.’
‘That’s not true, is it James? I think you know a lot more but you’re keeping it from me.’
His jaw clenched. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I know where the Logans were living when the tragedy happened; White Blossom Cottage.’
‘I told you that.’
‘You never said it was the bungalow at Belgooree!’
James gaped. ‘How did you ...?’
‘I found a report about their deaths in an old copy of The Shillong Gazette. I also know that you were in the area at the time – visiting tea planters and trying to get them to leave their isolated homes and go to safety. It was the anniversary of the Mutiny and all the planters were frightened they were going to be attacked – I’ve read about it and talked to people in Shillong.’
‘My God, woman, what have you done?’
Tilly jumped up, her heart drumming as she confronted him. ‘No, what have you done, James! You didn’t just get summoned after their deaths – you were there right beforehand – perhaps you were there on the day they died? Were you?’
She saw from his shocked expression that she was right. He didn’t deny it.
‘Then why didn’t you get them help if they were sick with fever? Or was that just a story put about to cover up what really went on? Mr Logan might have been ill but I don’t think Sophie’s mother was. She was fit and healthy and playing hide and seek with her daughter on her birthday.’ Tilly trembled under his furious look but pressed on. ‘I think she died a violent death – that villagers came and attacked them in revenge for the Mutiny. Maybe the ayah was in on the plot – tipped off the local agitators and ran off leaving Sophie alone.’
‘No!’ James shouted. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’
‘I think you came back with Superintendent Burke and found them dead and–’
‘Burke?’ James said appalled. ‘How could you possibly know–?’
‘It names him in the newspaper. And he came to the Rankins’ house to warn me off – told me you’d be in danger if I tried to find out any more.’
‘Burke threatened you?’
‘Yes. That’s why I let the matter drop and came home.’ She steeled herself to accuse him. ‘But now you have to tell me the truth. They were attacked by coolies – Sophie heard the drumming and noise of them coming – and you and Burke covered it up to stop a scandal and made up a story about a fever in case there were reprisals. And the poor Logans died a horrible death and no one was brought to justice – not the ayah or anyone – so that other planters didn’t take the law into their own hands and make things worse. I can see from your face that I’m right.’
James sprang forward and grabbed her arms.
‘I’ll tell you what happened,’ he cried. ‘Bill Logan got up from his sick bed, loaded his revolver and shot his wife dead! Then he turned the gun on himself and ended his miserable life. If Sophie hadn’t been hiding, he would probably have killed her too.’
Tilly reeled with incomprehension. ‘Sophie’s father?’ she gasped.
‘Yes!’
‘But why would he do such a terrible thing?’
‘Bill Logan was a sick and deluded man – and intensely jealous over Jessie – he thought she was unfaithful to him.’
Tilly winced at his iron grip. ‘And was she?’
‘Not that I know of. Don’t look at me like that, girl. I meant nothing to Jessie Logan.’
‘You had feelings for her?’
James suddenly let go his hold. ‘It was a long time ago. Perhaps I did. I know that I wanted her safely away from Belgooree – not just from possible attack from bands of agitators but from Logan. My going there that day – Sophie’s birthday – just made things worse. Logan flew into one of his rages and accused me of getting his wife with child. So I left without taking her with me. I went to fetch Burke – thought he could persuade Logan to see sense – but when we came back the following day we found this terrible–’
James broke off, his jaw clamping. Tilly put a hand on his arm and pulled him onto a wicker sofa.
‘Oh, James.’
‘If only I’d insisted on Jessie leaving the day before. I will never forgive myself for not doing more. Burke was adamant we mustn’t let the truth get out. Everyone was nervous and rumours were flying. If word spread that a planter and his wife had been shot, we knew that Indians would be blamed. It would be just as people had predicted. Then there would have been tit for tat and Burke feared real unrest.’
‘And little Sophie was hiding all this time?’
James nodded. ‘We found the poor lass curled up in a linen chest, shaking and speechless. God knows what she’d seen. But I think Jessie deliberately got her to hide, knowing that her daughter’s life was in danger.’
‘Was Sophie’s father really that unhinged?’
‘I think so.’
Tilly sat stunned. ‘Why did Mrs Logan stay with him if he was a danger to her and Sophie?’
James gave her a harrowed look. ‘She thought being at Belgooree would be good for his health and stop him being so jealous over her – there would be no social life – it was a kind of self-imposed purdah.’
‘Then why would Logan accuse you of making Sophie’s mother with child?’ Tilly asked, blushing.
James swallowed hard. She thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he said in a strained voice, ‘You see, they’d cut themselves off from us other planters for months and no one knew. I didn’t realise until I went to Belgooree on Sophie’s birthday.’
‘Realise what?’
‘Jessie had given birth the week before. When I went the first time there was a newborn baby. By the following day,’ he said grimly, ‘it had gone.’
Chapter 41
‘That’s Gowhatty,’ said the amiable Sam, the steamboat captain’s son, pointing at the distant ghat. Sophie squinted into the sun. Sam’s frantic monkey ran along the deck rail screeching and pointing too.
Sophie felt her insides knot. She was back in Assam.
‘I’ll fetch your luggage if you like?’
She smiled at the youth. She had enjoyed his company on the slow voyage upriver, impatient to be with Tilly yet filled with a sense of dread that she couldn’t explain. Sam’s lively chatter and interest in their surroundings had stopped her from brooding. From one of Tilly’s early letters, she knew her cousin had travelled up the Bramhaputra on the same boat and with the same engaging Sam with his pet monkey.
Only at night in the cramped cabin was she plagued by doubts. Was she mad to have left Tam? What was the point of staying on in India without a husband and a home? She would be shunned by everyone she knew. Already the Bracknalls had sent a curt note to say she was no longer welcome in Lahore society for abandoning Tam. It would be so much easier just to retreat back to Scotland and start again. She could get her job back with Miss Gorrie and the Scottish Servants’ Charity. She would buy another motorbike and take off to Perthshire and go fishing.
Thoughts spun in her head but always came back to Assam and her reason for staying in India; to revisit the place where she had been a child and try to lay to rest the ghosts of her elusive parents. Lying in the dark listening to Sam’s monkey running about the deck overhead, Sophie ran her fingers over the smooth dark opal she wore next to her skin, and knew she couldn’t leave India without trying to see Rafi one last time too.
Standing at the rail, she caught sight of Tilly and James on the quayside. As the steamboat edged alongside, her friend waved and her plump face broke into a smile. Sophie couldn’t get down the gangplank quick enough. They fell into each other’s arms and hugged; both bursting into tears. For several minutes Sophie couldn’t speak, while Tilly gabbled incoherently about how much she’d missed her and something to do with Cheviot Cottage and babies and a friend called Ros.
James patted his wife and pulled her away. ‘Let the girl get her breath, Tilly. You can tell her all your news on the journey to Belgooree.’
‘Belgooree?’ Sophie asked in surprise. ‘How lovely.’
James gave her a self-conscious kiss on the cheek.
‘Yes, your cousin is insisting we go there first.’
‘It’s all been arranged with Clarrie and Wesley.’
‘And you are coming too?’ Sophie scrutinised James.
He cleared his throat and nodded.
‘Clarrie and I are determined that the Robson men are going to bury the hatchet once and for all.’
‘This has got nothing to do with Wesley,’ James said crossly. ‘I’m doing this for you Tilly – and Sophie.’
‘For me?’ Sophie was baffled. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’ll explain all in good time,’ Tilly said, slipping her arm through her friend’s. Something about Tilly’s pitying expression made Sophie’s dread return. ‘Now let’s have some refreshment before we travel on. You must be ravenous. And you’re looking too thin and peaky. Clarrie and I are going to spoil you rotten, we’ve decided.’
‘Oh, Tilly, how I’ve missed you fussing over me,’ Sophie gave a tearful smile.
In a restaurant garden, Tilly beckoned to a slim Indian woman who came towards them pushing a pram.
Sophie’s stomach went taut as she realised she was staring in at Jamie. Tilly reached in and proudly held him up.
‘Say hello to your cousin Sophie,’ she crooned at the plump red-headed baby. Jamie gurgled and gave her a drooling smile.
‘Would you like to hold him?’
Sophie froze. She couldn’t do it. James swiftly intervened and took the boy in his arms. Sophie felt winded. For a moment she imagined it was Tam bouncing their longed-for baby in delight. Tears welled in her eyes and she turned away.
‘Sorry,’ she gulped.
Tilly steered her back into the restaurant. ‘No, it’s me who’s sorry; so very sorry.’
***
It was nearly sundown by the time they were bumping up the track to Belgooree in a pre-war Wolseley hired in Shillong. Sophie knew that her friends were keeping something from her – something too important to discuss en route – and her stomach felt leaden.
As they pulled up outside a neatly painted bungalow, swamped in a riot of flowering creepers, she had a frisson of déjà vu. Adela came flying down the bleached steps, arms outstretched.
‘‘Ophie!’ she squealed.
Sophie swept her up and swung her round, burying her face in the girl’s warm neck.
‘Hello my wee angel,’ she said, kissing the girl on her flushed cheek. ‘I’ve missed you.’
‘I’m here, silly,’ Adela laughed and wriggled down again, running round to Tilly for a hug. Tilly made a fuss of her too. James stood watching, looking awkward.
‘Who are you?’ Adela demanded.
‘He’s your Cousin James,’ Clarrie called out, coming down the steps, ‘say hello to him nicely.’
‘Hello,’ the girl said, already losing interest and jumping back to Sophie.
Clarrie embraced Sophie warmly and led them all up to the veranda where tea was served. Wesley returned from the tea leaf withering sheds. There was tension in the air and looks were exchanged; Sophie wondered if it was frostiness between the rival men or to do with her. Soon after they were shown to their rooms to wash and change for dinner.
There was a chill to the night air as they sat around the dining table on the deep-set veranda, night birds restless in the jungle beyond. Sophie could hardly eat a thing, beset by the strange sensation that she had been here before. In such an ethereal place she could believe in reincarnation.
And then realisation began to dawn. She looked around the table at their anxious faces. Her question came out as a whisper.
‘Is – is this place White Blossom Cottage?’
Again the looks flew between the others.
Clarrie said gently, ‘it is. At least that is what your father renamed it when he brought you and your mother to live here. I don’t think he liked the native name Belgooree.’
Sophie’s heart drummed. Her thoughts plunged back to that long-ago birthday. She saw her small self in a blue dress, standing at the top of those very steps waiting for her party to begin, the sound of tom-toms beating beyond the compound.
‘Tell me what you know,’ she rasped, ‘tell me everything.’
***
Minutes later, Sophie lurched down the steps and doubled over, retching into the dark flowerbed. Her head reeled with what she had just been told; her father was a murderer and her mother had suffered a terrifying death. Had she pleaded for her life as he swung the revolver at her head? Had she begged him not to harm their daughter?
She gasped for breath as she remembered how she had hidden in the suffocating linen chest. She sobbed and struggled to breathe as she vomited again. Tilly and Clarrie quickly had their arms around her, soothing her and cajoling her back inside.
They lay her down on a lumpy sofa and sat either side, Clarrie stroking her hair away from her face and Tilly making her sip sugary water.
Sophie lay feeling utterly torn apart. James and Wesley stood watching, looking on helplessly.
Clarrie said,’When we first came back to Belgooree there was a local rumour that a planter had died here years back, but I thought it was probably about my father.’
‘We knew none of this till Tilly told us in a letter,’ Wesley said, flinging an accusing look at James.
‘I told you,’ said James, ‘it was Burke who made the decision to cover up the shootings. Once it was done, we couldn’t go back on it.’ He threw Sophie a pleading lo
ok. ‘And I wanted to protect you from the awful truth of what your father did. You were so young and upset as it was.’
Sophie stared at him. ‘It was you who found me in the chest, wasn’t it? How long had I been there?’
‘All night,’ James admitted. ‘We hoped to God you hadn’t climbed out and seen–’ He broke off.
‘I heard the bangs,’ Sophie said, no longer able to keep the memories of that fearful night at bay. ‘I thought they were fireworks. And the drums sounded as if they were in the house. I tried to make myself as small as I could. Were there people coming to harm us?’
James shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. May is a time of weddings – they were probably just celebrating. That’s why no one in the compound heard the gunshots – it was too noisy or they had slipped off to the feasting.’
Sophie closed her eyes but she couldn’t blank out the image of Ayah Mimi running away. It had still been daylight. If her nurse had suspected trouble, why did she not attempt to take her with her?
‘I can’t forgive Ayah for leaving me like that,’ she said bitterly, ‘and saving the wretched kitten.’
Tilly covered Sophie’s hand with hers. ‘James has something else to tell you that he’s never spoken of until he told me two weeks ago. I don’t know whether it will make you feel better or worse; but I think you have a right to know.’
James came forward and straddled a chair. ‘I don’t think your ayah was running away with a kitten. I think it was a baby.’
‘A baby?’ Clarrie said, startled. ‘You never said–’
‘Let him speak, Clarissa,’ Wesley cautioned.
James held Sophie’s look. ‘Your mother had just given birth shortly before your birthday. When I came to try and persuade them to leave, your father seemed agitated by the new-born – in his fevered state he made accusations that the baby wasn’t his. It’s crying just enraged him all the more.’
Tilly squeezed Sophie’s hand. ‘James thinks your mother must have sent Ayah to the village with the baby for protection. She feared her husband was so unstable he might do it harm.’
‘A baby?’ Sophie whispered in confusion. ‘How do I not remember a baby brother or sister?’
THE PLANTER'S BRIDE: A story of intrigue and passion: sequel to THE TEA PLANTER'S DAUGHTER (India Tea Series Book 2) Page 35
