Louisa nodded but intended to steer clear of this conversation. It had been repeated so many times she could foretell what would be coming next and while the spotlight wasn’t on her, so much the better.
Elliot muttered something soothing, as she’d known he would, and then a servant came in to clear the table and the family fell silent. Another servant, a young dark-eyed, dark-haired woman called Camille, brought in a pineapple milk pudding but Louisa shook her head when offered a portion.
Camille served the others and then left the room.
“I know it’s none of my business,” Irene said. “But don’t you think a milky pudding might put some meat on your bones? Why not get yourself an English cook or maybe even French? I’m sure all this Sinhalese cuisine isn’t good for you. Apart from the puddings, I mean.”
“Actually, we have a French girl called Camille working as a kitchen maid. She just served the pudding. Didn’t you notice her? Although she’s French she usually wears a sari. Perhaps that’s why you didn’t spot her.”
“How very unusual. A European working as a lowly kitchen maid.”
“It’s rather a curious story. Apparently, she fell in love with a sailor who got her a job in the galley of the liner he was working on. But then he abandoned her here in Galle with no funds.”
“So, you just stepped in and took her on. How like you to be so kind.”
Louisa could see from Irene’s disapproving look that she did not think it kind at all. “She’s all alone with no family. I felt I had to, and anyway, our previous kitchen boy had moved on.”
Irene inclined her head. “I see. Well, with your permission, naturally, I think it might be opportune if I stay on a little longer than originally planned. Somebody needs to ensure you eat properly.”
Louisa groaned inwardly.
Louisa lay beside Elliot turning things over in her head while he read. He had always been incredibly solicitous whenever she wasn’t well, and it crossed her mind that he might prefer her not to be strong, that maybe something about her incapacity made him feel needed. She curled up closer to him and stroked his stomach. Funny how easily doubt crept in, even in the strongest marriage. But when he closed his book and reached for her, she quickly dismissed the fleeting thoughts and then they made gentle love for the first time since her miscarriage.
Afterward he fell asleep.
She couldn’t rest, however, as her skin felt prickly and her legs too heavy. No matter how she lay she couldn’t get comfortable, and within moments she would be shifting around again. She waited for a while, but after an hour of fidgeting, she climbed out of bed and lit a candle to keep the light low and not wake Elliot. He hated to be woken suddenly and, if he was, it would send him into a mood for the entire following day.
In the bathroom, she turned on the light. They’d had electricity in Galle for the last seven years, and though it had transformed their lives, Louisa missed the romance of indoor oil lamps and the soft glow of candles. Sometimes the nights were hard to get through and she often found herself sitting on the edge of the bath for a while. She gazed around her, then went to open the window and lean out, closing her eyes and breathing in the scented night air. Damp. Sweet. Salty. Being on her own at night gave her such an intense feeling of timelessness, it instantly calmed her restless mind. She opened her eyes on a full moon, the garden glittering and shining in its blue light. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if, after tonight, she was pregnant again?
She splashed her face and after another half an hour went back to bed and thought of her children. In her mind, they played and scampered and shrieked as children did, but her thoughts misled her and it hurt too much that they were not really there.
At one point Elliot woke up and wrapped his arms around her.
“I do love you,” she whispered.
“As I do you,” he muttered, half asleep.
Then she managed to nod off.
* * *
—
Over the following weeks Louisa’s life went on normally. She took Tommy, Bouncer and Zip for long walks, concentrated on her sewing, and went outside to trim her shrubs. The evenings brought her added solace—when the sky turned red and purple, suddenly in the way it did, and she heard the call to prayer coming from the mosque. The huge dramatic sky hanging above a lilac ocean stretching all the way to the South Pole always struck her with a feeling of awe. But just as soon as everything was completely back on an even keel, and she felt genuinely happy, Elliot went away again, this time spending even longer than usual on business up at the cinnamon plantation.
She continued walking her dogs and taking care of her household but then, one morning in early February, after Elliot had arrived back home, her father came to sit with her on the veranda. It was a warm dusty day with flies buzzing in the heavy air, so Louisa was constantly brushing them from her eyes. They had tea brought out and before her father picked up the Ceylon Times, he grunted and held out a hand to her. She took it and he squeezed gently. “There’s my girl,” he said.
She nodded and then let go of his hand. He buried himself in his paper but she always felt comforted by having him near. As she sat gazing at the garden and listening to the birds, watching them dip in and out of the branches, she felt a stirring of pleasure. It was still early but the morning was alive and the smell of the jasmine lifted her heart. Life had to go on. The third failed pregnancy had been a blow but she had a beautiful home, a good husband and a father she loved. Many could not say the same and soon she’d start fundraising again for the children’s orphanage in Colombo. Maybe a French-themed meal would be something different, with Camille’s help, of course. She had held coffee mornings, bring-and-buy sales and extravagant lunches, all in aid of the orphanage. Elliot would joke that every time she went there, he half expected her to come home with a couple of brown babies tucked under her arms.
A little later Elliot turned up and his mother joined them on the veranda too. Louisa had to face the fact that she was going to have to insist Irene went back to Colombo soon. She’d long outstayed her welcome, if you could even call it that, and had been with them a month. She dreaded her mother-in-law still being there when she and Elliot hosted their traditional anniversary party toward the end of the month.
“Shall we have more tea?” Louisa said and rang the bell, ordering the tea when Ashan, their small, trim-looking butler wearing the traditional men’s sarong knotted at the front, sprang quickly to her side. His long hair was coiled up on his head and fastened with a silver-edged tortoiseshell comb.
“Thank you, Ashan,” she said. “I can always rely on you.”
He gave her a broad smile. “I should certainly hope so, Madam.”
She glanced across at her husband. It seemed from his shining face that Elliot had something to announce. For a moment or two he didn’t speak but just sat smiling with an unfathomable look in his eyes.
“Well, what is it?” her father said, picking up on it too. “Spit it out.”
Frowning, Louisa gave her husband an inquisitive look. “Elliot?”
He took out a packet of Camel cigarettes, struck a match and lit one. Then he paused before speaking. “I have bought the old Print House.” He leaned back in his chair, pursed his lips with satisfaction and nodded emphatically.
“Oh darling! How marvelous,” Irene gushed, beaming with maternal pride.
Jonathan Hardcastle looked up from his paper, looking less than happy. “You’ve what?”
“I’ve had a marvelous idea.” Despite his father-in-law’s reaction, Elliot was still looking pleased with himself.
“What’s your idea, darling?” Louisa gently said.
“It just came to me out of the blue a few weeks before Christmas. The place has been empty for ages but I thought we could turn it into the biggest jewelry and spice emporium in Ceylon. Put it right at the heart of the whole business. I just ne
ed to make the final payment.”
“What were you thinking? We are not jewelers,” Jonathan protested. “We’re gem merchants.”
Elliot’s expression did not change and, Louisa knew, from the light in his eyes, nothing was likely to deflate him. “Isn’t it time to expand, Jonathan? Take a risk?”
Her father shook his head. “While we’re so stretched? Of course not.”
“Why not hear Elliot out, Dad?”
“No. The gem trade is faltering because of the improved imitation-stone technology and you’re well aware these are flooding the bottom end of the market.”
“Even more reason to expand the business in another direction,” Elliot said.
“No. It’s madness. I’ve had to focus on high-end, high-carat jewels, and that ties up a huge amount of capital in stock.”
Ashan brought out more tea and they stopped speaking until he had gone. He had been with the family for years and was the soul of discretion but, all the same, Louisa liked to keep sensitive issues private.
“Pa, surely you can find the cash,” Louisa said. “It’s a good idea, isn’t it?”
“No. Absolutely not. The timing is all wrong.”
“But…”
Jonathan held up a hand. “I’m not for this at all, and that’s the truth. Now I have work to do. I hope not to hear any more about this idiotic idea.” He folded his paper and marched off with it under his arm.
Now, suddenly deflated, Elliot puffed out his cheeks.
Louisa felt torn. She wanted to support Elliot, but she loved her father too.
“Well.” Elliot shook his head. “That went swimmingly!”
“I’m going to go for a lie-down,” Irene said as she sniffed, and then took a few steps. “I feel one of my headaches coming on. Disagreement does not sit well with my delicate constitution.”
“I’ll bring you some mint tea, Mother.”
After Irene had gone Louisa gazed at Elliot. Wanting to find a way to support him, she sighed. “I’m sure he’ll come around.”
“He’s wrong, but you know he won’t change his mind.” Elliot drained the last of his tea. “He has never really liked me.”
“Don’t be so peevish. Of course he likes you. But maybe you should have told me first rather than announcing it so suddenly,” Louisa said.
He shrugged. “Maybe. I wanted to make a splash. I thought you’d be on my side.”
“Come on, Elliot, I am, but you know my father. He needs to be persuaded.”
“You think you can still do that?”
“I can try. Just promise me this isn’t another of your madcap schemes.”
“Are you my keeper now?”
She sighed again. “Of course not, but if you need my help…”
“Do you ever consider how it feels for me having to come cap in hand?”
“Elliot, I didn’t mean—”
“You’re referring to the racehorse, I assume?”
She smiled. “Well, he was lame.”
He got to his feet and glared at her. “Honestly, Louisa, will you never let me forget it? I know I’m a disappointment to you, but this is quite different.”
“Calm down. This is silly. You aren’t a disappointment.” She held out a hand to him.
He took it and came to sit beside her.
“As it happens, I do think the emporium might well be a good idea. Tell me how you financed it.”
“The spice business has been very much in profit. That took care of the down payment. And it was going for a good price.”
“Have you considered the actual costs of refurbishment?”
“Of course. It shouldn’t be too expensive. The place is in good condition. We need to clean it up and then redecorate and do some fitting out—but it’s all doable.”
“Would it take long?”
“Not if we get the right people on board.”
“I’m wondering if we could fund it ourselves, prove to Dad it’s a good idea?”
He seemed to hesitate before speaking. “Lou, the thing is, I’m a little strapped for cash just now.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “You just said everything’s going well.”
“Yes. Yes. Of course. It is. This is just a temporary cash-flow issue while I wait for payment on a large shipment in transit.”
“And that’s all?”
“Absolutely.”
“Not a return to your old trouble?”
He looked horrified and hurt. “Of course not. Be right as rain once the payment is in. You know how these things go.”
She trusted Elliot, of course she did, but still she paused to think before carrying on. Some things were hard to forget, let alone forgive, and yet, she wanted to believe him. His smile, disarmingly gentle, convinced her.
“It might be a risk,” she said, “but on the other hand, my father might be wrong.”
“I think he is.”
“Well, let’s look into it and, if it’s solid, I’m sure I can figure out a way to make the final payment on the Print House myself. I could do with a new project.”
“I don’t want you to fall out with Jonathan.”
She shook her head. “They’re my shares and we’re a team, remember. Once I’ve seen the place, I’ll put some shares on the market as quickly as I can, so we can at least complete the deal.”
“Good girl! I knew I could count on you.”
“And, while I’m at it, I’ll see that there’s enough in your account to cover the refurbishment. Just until you’ve balanced your books.”
“Magnificent.”
“Then we can get the plans ready together. I’ll love designing it.” It was true. A project might be just the thing. “How about sparkling white walls to contrast with ebony counters? Dark against light works so well, and Ceylon ebony is such an even dark color. It’ll be fabulous.”
“I hoped you might want to take charge.”
“You did this for me?”
“Well, not exactly. But I do think a new start might help.”
“And once Dad sees how brilliant the place looks and how many jewelers are interested in displaying their wares, he’ll come around, I’m sure.”
“I’m lucky to have you.”
She smiled and reached for his hand. “We’re both lucky.”
“Now look,” he said. “If you’re feeling happier, I’m needed back at the cinnamon plantation.”
Inhaling deeply, she attempted to ward off how crushed she felt. “Again? Aren’t we going to get on with the plans for the emporium?”
“That can wait. There’s such a lot to do at the plantation right now.”
“Like what?”
“You’ve never shown an interest before.”
“Well, I’m asking now.”
He didn’t appear pleased to be questioned so closely, and seemed to be considering his answer. “Well, if you must know, I’m looking at ways to make the place more productive. Clearing more of the jungle. That sort of thing.”
“Maybe next time I’ll come with you. A trip away; just the two of us.”
He didn’t reply.
In the silence pooling around them, everything felt on hold.
When Elliot returned from the plantation two days later, he had seemed in a very positive frame of mind. Glowing, in fact. Louisa had again proposed her idea of accompanying him on his next visit, but at first he hadn’t been keen, claiming the plantation was somewhat primitive and she wouldn’t enjoy it. She had persisted, however, and now just a few days later they were on their way. He had insisted it had to be on this particular day, without explaining why, but at least they were going together. A flying visit only, there and back in one day, as Hardcastle Gems had new stones in and he was needed to oversee the records.
The road
toward Cinnamon Hills took them out of Galle Fort, bypassing the docks and wharves where rubber and other goods were stored before being loaded onto the ships, and where Louisa held her nose: when there was a rubber shipment the stink was awful. They skirted the calm waters of Galle Bay, where the larger vessels were moored, and the southern end of Rumassala Hill, commonly known as the Watering Point, the place ships once took on fresh water from a reservoir. And from there you could see two rocky reefs, where so many ships had met their dreadful fates during the southwest monsoon.
“It’s such a brilliant view from the top of Rumassala, isn’t it?” she said. “We should walk up there again soon.”
They passed the small cemetery, the last resting place of British civil servants and sailors, and after that Louisa rolled down the window, enjoying the fresh air.
“I love the legend of Rumassala.”
The ancient Sanskrit epic of the Ramayana told of a time when Hanuman, the Indian monkey warrior-god, needed herbs to treat the wounded in his army during his battle against the demonic King Ravana of Ceylon. But there were no medicinal herbs to be found here, so Hanuman went back to India and brought back a piece of the Himalayas, where the plants he needed grew, but he accidentally dropped it at Rumassala. Louisa knew local folk believed this accounted for the rare medicinal plants found in the area.
“I’m thinking of trying medicinal herbs,” she said. “See if they’d help me.”
“Doctor Russell would be horrified.”
“He doesn’t have to know and it might be worth a try. The locals swear by them and it’s up to me, isn’t it?”
When they arrived, an hour and a half later, the tough loneliness of the plantation appealed to her. Halfway up the hill was an old estate house, or walauwa, a bungalow set amidst a small overgrown lawn and surrounded by trees where orchids thick with butterflies decorated the garden. Beyond the track to the house, the low penetration of light meant the forest looked deep and dark. A place to lose yourself, she thought. Where nobody would see your movements in the shadows and anything might happen.
The Sapphire Widow Page 3
