After that, Tam was never mentioned. Sophie focused on looking to the future and finding her brother. Back came an excited reply from Tilly wishing her the best of luck in tackling the hard-bitten police officer.
‘His card was a bit vague,’ Tilly wrote back, ‘it just said Superintendent R Burke, The Lines, Shillong. No doubt he thinks himself so important that everyone should know where he lives.’
On the eve of her going, a message came that the landowner of the neighbouring principality of Gulgat was on a hunting trip in the Khassia Hills. The Rajah of Gulgat was asking permission to use the camping ground Um Shirpi by the river on the Belgooree estate in a few days time. Wesley sent back a chit granting permission and asking if he could join the party on his return from town.
‘He’s an amusing man,’ Wesley told Sophie, ‘with a huge menagerie of exotic pets including a white tiger. Went to Edinburgh University and studied Philosophy. You’ll have to meet him.’
The next morning, Sophie and Wesley saddled up ready to leave. Sophie put on her bracelet of elephant heads to bring luck in the search. Ayah Mimi gasped at the sight.
‘From Logan Memsahib!’
‘Yes,’ Sophie answered. ‘Do you remember it?’
Her old nurse nodded, her eyes haunted. ‘There were two. I had forgotten. The other one–’ she put a trembling hand to her mouth.
‘Tell me, Ayah Mimi,’ Sophie said gently.
‘The baby,’ she whispered. ‘Your mother wrapped the other one in the baby’s shawl.’
‘Did it stay with the baby?’ Sophie asked, her heart jolting.
Ayah nodded. ‘I put it with the little one when Burke took him away.’ Her eyes lit with hope. ‘Perhaps it might help you find the boy?’
Sophie knew the chances of the bracelet having been handed on with her brother were slim; Burke would probably have got rid of anything that might link the boy with the Logans – if he’d found it. But she saw the longing in the old woman’s face.
‘Thank you,’ she smiled in encouragement, ‘it might well help us.’
At the moment of departure, Adela burst into tears.
‘I want to go too!’
She would not believe her mother’s entreaties that her father and adored Sophie would be coming back in a few days. Only Ayah Mimi’s enticing the small girl over to the giant babul tree and mimicking the jungle birds distracted the girl long enough for the riders to trot away.
As soon as they got to town – impatient to get the confrontation over – Sophie sent a card of introduction straight round to the Lines in the cantonment. She spent a sleepless night in the boarding house and could hardly touch her breakfast the next day.
‘We could call on Tilly’s friend Major Rankin while we wait for a reply,’ Wesley suggested. ‘Or we could go to the cemetery to pay your respects ...?’
Sophie’s insides knotted. She didn’t feel like making small talk with a stranger however kind the major was, and she knew that she had to go to her parents’ grave – wanted to – and yet dreaded the moment. Her feelings for her father were so confused.
‘I’d rather wait for Burke’s reply,’ she answered.
She spent the morning pacing about the veranda scanning the steep path leading to the boarding house for signs of a chaprassi with a chit inviting her to visit Burke’s house. By dusk nothing had come. The next day, Wesley insisted on taking her out sightseeing around the lakeside. Sophie tried to enjoy the beauty of the place – Tilly had been right about it being reminiscent of the Scottish Highlands – but she hurried back for news rather than go for tea at The Pinewood Hotel.
‘I can’t believe he’s ignoring my request,’ she said in annoyance on finding no note from Burke.
‘Perhaps he’s away?’ Wesley said.
‘Tomorrow we’ll go to the cantonment and find out for ourselves,’ Sophie was insistent. ‘I’m not going to be put off another day.’
Wesley gave a snort of amusement. ‘It’s like listening to a young Clarissa. You Logans aren’t related to the Belhavens by any chance?’
It was a drizzly misty morning as they made their way downhill to the cantonment and the uniform lines of British bungalows.
‘Rather than tramp around in the rain,’ said Wesley, ‘why don’t we go straight to the club and ask. He’s bound to be well-known there.’
Sophie stood defiantly in the doorway of the men-only club so she could hear what was said.
‘Ronny Burke?’ a portly man queried, peering over his newspaper.
Wesley nodded.
‘I’m afraid you’re too late. Dropped down dead of a heart attack two weeks ago. You’ll find him in the cemetery. Are you family?’
Sophie was so full of bitter disappointment that she could not speak. Wesley steered her away from the club into the soft mizzle of rain. She bent her head and walked in silence, not caring where they went. It was only when Wesley stopped abruptly that she realised they were at the gates to the British cemetery.
‘I know where they are,’ he said quietly. ‘We were there when Tilly found the grave.’
Sophie took a deep breath and followed where he pointed.
It was a simple stone with their names and date of death, but more imposing than it had looked in Tilly’s snapshot. The only adornment – perhaps arranged by James? – was a Celtic cross engraved into the polished stone. She stooped and ran her finger along her mother’s name: Jessie Anderson, wife of the above. She thought of the woman she had last seen on the veranda at Belgooree telling her to go and hide; a hand gently pushing her away, a rustle of gauzy clothing, a distracted smile.
Sophie wondered if her mother had really longed to grab her hand and run off down the path after Ayah and the baby. She wished with all her might that her mother had had the courage to do that. But maybe the more courageous act was to let her daughter go and to turn around and try and placate her fevered irrational husband.
Crouching down, Sophie whispered, ‘Auntie Amy brought me up well. She was as loving as any mother could be. But all my growing up I tried to remember what you were like. You were my real Mama and it’s you I always wanted.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I found Ayah Mimi and I wanted with all my heart to find my wee brother – so he would know about you – and I would have someone of my own flesh and blood to love. But I don’t know how I can do that now. I’m sorry.’
She bent forward and kissed the cold damp stone with trembling lips. ‘Goodbye Mama.’ Tears coursed down her face and dropped from her chin. She stood up.
Wesley put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Your father was an ill man. It’s not making excuses for what he did, but there must have been a time when he loved you. It’s impossible for fathers not to love their daughters.’
Sophie turned and gave him a regretful smile. ‘That’s because you are a good father. I don’t remember my father being like that. Yet I’d like to believe it – so thank you.’
As they left the dank cemetery, a shaft of watery sunlight broke through the blanket of cloud. By the time they had climbed back to the boarding house, the clouds had rolled back and the hills were once more in view.
‘Your parents honeymooned in a hill station called Murree,’ Auntie Amy had once said. ‘Your mother always loved the hills.’
Sophie knew wherever she went next she would always find comfort in mountains. Auntie Amy had loved them, and it gave her solace to think that her mother had too.
Chapter 43
Adela was the first down the steps to greet them on their return to Belgooree.
‘Daddy! ‘Ophie!’
Clarrie had to grab her hand to stop her running under the horses’ hooves. She flung herself into her father’s arms and he swung her round.
‘How I’ve missed my little kitten!’ He planted a loud kiss on her cheek.
She giggled and wiped it away. Sophie’s heart squeezed at their delight in each other and the endearment that echoed her mother’s name for her baby brother.
Adela wriggled out of his hold
and sprang at Sophie.
‘There’s a prince in a tent,’ she said, wide-eyed in excitement. ‘He’s got a wolf on a gold chain. ‘Ophie come and see.’
Clarrie explained. ‘It’s the Rajah of Gulgat. He arrived yesterday. We went to watch them set up camp. The wolf is actually a hunting dog.’
‘Yes, wolf,’ Adela repeated. ‘Come on ‘Ophie.’
‘Give her time to rest and bathe,’ Clarrie said, ‘she’s had a long ride.’ She gave Sophie an expectant look. Sophie shook her head.
‘Burke died two weeks ago,’ Wesley explained. ‘We can talk of it later.’
Adela looked between them in confusion. ‘‘Ophie why are you sad?’
Sophie bent down. ‘I’m sad because I’ve spent five days away from you. Give me a hug.’
Adela giggled and put her warm arms around Sophie’s neck, threading her fingers in her hair. Sophie’s silky fair hair fascinated the little girl.
‘We can invite the Rajah and his hunting friends to tea tomorrow,’ Clarrie said, ‘now that you’re back. They’re just a small group by the looks of it.’
‘I’ll go down this evening and ask them,’ Wesley agreed.
As the shadows were lengthening, refreshed from a hot bath and changed into a clean dress, Sophie accompanied the Robsons down to the river to meet the Rajah. She was surprised by the simplicity of the camp – eight tents the size of those Tam would use for a jungle tour – around an open fire over which two cooks were busy preparing the evening meal.
Four men were splashing about in the river, shouting.
‘Ladies,’ Wesley said in alarm, ‘you must look away – the men have nothing on.’
Laughing at his prudishness, Clarrie and Sophie went behind a large oak tree. Adela thought it was a game and squealed in delight. Wesley went down to greet the men and returned several minutes later to say it was safe to come out.
Camp chairs were hastily found for the women and the Rajah reappeared from his tent in tunic and trousers to shake their hands. He was a slim handsome man of about thirty. Sophie immediately liked his lack of airs and graces.
‘Welcome to my palace,’ he winked at Adela.
‘Where is the wolf?’ asked the girl, gazing around.
‘Gone off to find Red Riding Hood,’ he said, laughing at his own joke.
He ordered up chota pegs. As glasses of lemonade or whisky were handed round, the other swimmers appeared out of the gloom.
‘My brother Ravi and my good friend Colonel Baxter – and this is my new aide-de-camp, Khan.’
Sophie caught her breath. She stared at the muscled figure with tousled wet hair who had hastily pulled on shirt and trousers. He was bearded but as he stepped forward in the dying light, she knew it.
‘Rafi?’ she gasped.
He came forward and took her hand in his. ‘Sophie, how are you?’ He didn’t seem as shocked to see her as she was at his sudden appearance.
Her heart hammered. She could hardly reply. How could he be so casual?
‘You know each other?’ the Rajah asked with interest.
‘From Edinburgh and the Forest Service,’ Rafi explained. He let go her hand and Sophie sat down quickly on a camp chair before her legs gave way.
She caught Clarrie’s look and knew she understood. Had she known since yesterday that Rafi was here? The Rajah began to reminisce about Edinburgh and question Sophie about her life there, while Clarrie engaged Rafi in conversation about the tea gardens. Sophie had a thousand questions on her lips for Rafi, yet she was thankful when the Robsons took their leave, issued their tea invitation and retrieved Adela from hampering the cooks’ chapatti-making.
As they left, Clarrie said casually to Rafi, ‘if you come riding with us at dawn I can show you the wild walnut trees we talked about.’
Rafi nodded in acceptance.
Later, back at Belgooree, Sophie sat up late with Clarrie, quite unable to sleep.
‘Is it pure coincidence? He didn’t seem in the least surprised. But maybe that’s because he doesn’t feel the way I do. Oh, Clarrie, I don’t know what to think. It’s all hopeless anyway.’
Nothing Clarrie said could calm Sophie’s mental turmoil.
‘Try and sleep,’ she yawned, giving up and going to bed. ‘It’ll be dawn in a few hours.’
***
Riding out in the frosty December morning, Sophie felt relief that the long night was over and she was out doing something active. Her spirits lifted. Whether Rafi appeared or not, she was going to enjoy the sunrise as she did every morning. Clarrie and Wesley went with her. The darkness was filled with the scent of early morning fires from the village, as the ponies picked their way through the tea gardens.
Where the path turned into the forest, Sophie saw the outline of a horse and rider against the charcoal sky. Rafi had come.
‘You go ahead,’ Clarrie told Sophie, ‘we’ll ride behind. The path is too narrow for us all.’
Sophie greeted Rafi and their horses fell into step. Neither said a word, as if each feared what the other might have to say. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the temple clearing where Clarrie wanted to show Rafi the wild walnut trees. Only then did Sophie realise that the Robsons were no longer behind them.
As they dismounted and waited for the sunrise, Sophie found herself telling Rafi all about finding Ayah Mimi in the hermit’s hut, discovering the truth of her parents’ death and her fruitless search for her younger brother. It all came spilling out.
‘I think that’s why I was so afraid of having a baby myself – deep down I remembered my baby brother – or rather I remembered the feeling of losing him. Somehow in my childish mind, I felt responsible for not keeping him safe.’
Suddenly Sophie was weeping uncontrollably. Rafi, who had hardly spoken a word, put his strong arms around her and pulled her into a comforting hold. They stood like that while dawn light seeped into the enclosure, making the frost on the trees and grass sparkle like jewels.
As the sun grew stronger, melting the thin ice on the pool, Sophie pulled away, self-conscious of their intimate hold. It was sweet agony to have found him again but to know they could not be together.
‘I’m so sorry for the trouble I caused you, Rafi,’ she said. ‘Ruining your forestry career.’
‘Don’t be,’ he said, ‘I couldn’t have worked for Bracknall any longer – knowing what he’d done to you – and I’m happier where I am now with the Rajah. We knew each other briefly in Edinburgh. He offered me the job of his chief assistant when he heard I was back in India. So when Bracknall sacked me, I took up the offer. I’m his chief forester too.’ Rafi gave a wry smile.
‘I’m glad about that,’ Sophie said, feeling an easing of her guilt. But her heart was still heavy. ‘I have things to tell you – about Tam – and – the baby ...’
Rafi said quickly, ‘you don’t have to explain.’
Sophie looked into his handsome face, her insides leaden. He didn’t want to know. He was forging a new life at Gulgat. His tenderness of moments before was mere kindness.
‘I see,’ she said, stepping back.
‘No, you don’t.’ Rafi caught her hand and held her. ‘I mean that I know all about what’s happened between you and Tam – your terrible loss – his going on leave. Boz wrote and told me everything.’
‘Boz?’
‘Yes. As soon as he heard from you and knew you were at Belgooree he tracked me down. He told me you wanted to find me.’
She flushed. ‘Well, yes, just to apologise–’
‘Sophie,’ he said, pulling her back towards him, ‘it’s not chance that the Rajah’s hunting party is in this part of the Khassia Hills – I arranged it. I wanted so much to see you again.’
‘You did?’ she swallowed, her heart racing.
‘Of course.’ He touched her cheek. It sent shivers through her. ‘But I need to know about you and Tam. Is there any chance of a reconciliation between you? If there is, then I will go with a sore heart, and not stand in your way.
’
‘Tam has gone to be with the woman he has loved all along,’ Sophie whispered. ‘I ought to feel jealous but I don’t. I’ve only ever really cared for one man, but I didn’t realise it in time.’ Her eyes stung with tears as she looked into his intense green eyes. ‘I love you Rafi, but I feel guilty at the joy I feel just being here with you. Guilty towards–’
‘Stop,’ Rafi said forcefully, gripping her hand. ‘I have things to tell you too. Boz told me about the wedding announcement in the newspaper with Sultana Sarfraz.’
‘Was that not true?’ Sophie asked, not daring to hope.
‘It’s true there was a wedding,’ Rafi answered, ‘but not to me. It was my brother Rehman who married. I refused – I couldn’t go through with it – and he was happy to step into my shoes. The Gazette couldn’t distinguish between one brother and the other – they were only interested in the connection with Ghulam and his notoriety.’
‘So you’re not married?’ Sophie’s heart leapt.
‘No,’ Rafi said, titling her chin and gazing at her with his passionate eyes. ‘I vowed to stay single all my days if I couldn’t have the woman I loved. You Sophie, you’re the only one I could be happy with. Your Auntie Amy knew it – it’s you who couldn’t see how much in love I’d fallen.’
She felt dizzy at his words. ‘Oh Rafi, kiss me.’
He bent and embraced her with firm lips that she had dreamed about kissing for so long. She felt her heart would burst with joy.
When the kissing stopped, Rafi’s voice was raw with emotion.
‘Come and live with me at Gulgat,’ he urged.
‘Will the Rajah not be shocked?’ she laughed, heady at the idea. ‘I’d be bringing further scandal to your door.’
‘Not shocked,’ Rafi grinned, ‘just envious.’
They gazed at each other, unable to believe their luck. A shadow passed over his handsome face. ‘You have more to lose. It is you who will be cast out from British society in India forever if you choose me.’
‘I care nothing for that,’ Sophie said with spirit. ‘And the people I love won’t turn their backs on us.’
THE PLANTER'S BRIDE: A story of intrigue and passion: sequel to THE TEA PLANTER'S DAUGHTER (India Tea Series Book 2) Page 37
