The Spring of the Tiger

by Victoria Holt

  "Did it go well. . . your business?"

  "Perfectly."

  "And so much quicker than you thought it would."

  "The fact is that I was so eager to be with you that I couldn't stay away any longer."

  I laughed disbelievingly. "You're such a good businessman," I retorted. "Don't forget. Half Ceylon belongs to you. You would never neglect business for a whim."

  "A whim! You call my raging desire to be with you a whim!"

  "Put me down," I commanded. "We may be watched."

  "On condition you go immediately and pack."

  "Something's happened, Clinton. I suppose you haven't heard."

  "What?" he demanded.

  I told him of the events of that fateful night. As he listened I saw a smile curve his lips.

  "What is there to smile about?" I demanded. "You find it amusing. It was horrible."

  "What a dilemma," he said. "The pearls ... or the boy."

  "Poor Clytie has been prostrate with worry. I can't leave her, Clinton. I have to stay here. She has nightmares. I seem to be able to comfort her."

  "You can come over and see her tomorrow."

  "I must stay until the end of the week as I arranged to originally."

  "Don't talk nonsense. It's all over, isn't it? The boy's back safely. And I'm home."

  "Yes, but I wasn't expecting you and Seth is away. Clytie needs me. I promised him I'd stay with her. She needs me, Clinton."

  "And don't I? Go on. You're coming back with me."

  "I shall come back at the end of the week."

  "You'll come back now."

  "I have promised to stay until Seth returns and I shall do so. I shall come home on Friday as I originally intended to."

  "My dear Sarah, you're coming home now."

  "Can't you understand what a shock this has been to Clytie?"

  "Whatever it was is over now."

  "She has lost the Ashington Pearls."

  "She gave them away."

  "For her son. For heaven's sake, be human."

  He laughed and said: "I am, Sarah, so human that I want my wife."

  "I shall not leave Clytie yet."

  Suddenly his face hardened. He said: "Come back before dark. I shall expect you."

  With that he turned and went away.

  I was shaken, he had looked so angry suddenly. He alarmed me. He had looked quite murderous.

  I went into the house. As I walked across the hall Sheba was behind me.

  "Missee Sarah," she said, "I worried about Missee Clytie."

  "She's asleep, isn't she?"

  "Yes. This has been big shock to her. She love that boy. . . . Oh, how she love that boy. Her life, Missee Sarah."

  "I know."

  "Master Seth ... he good husband. He nice husband . . . very kind. But that boy ... he her life. You good to her, Missee Sarah. She love you very much. She say me: 'Missee Sarah so calm ... so good for me. What I do without her?' Missee Sarah, stay . . . look after her."

  "I shall certainly stay until her husband comes back," I said.

  Sheba nodded. She seemed very pleased and it occurred to me then that she had witnessed the scene in the garden and that she was afraid I would go home since Clinton had commanded it. She wanted me to stay ... for Clytie's sake. Yet I wished I could rid myself of the feeling of being watched all the time.

  I said nothing to Clytie about Clinton's return. I knew that if I did she would say I must go back to him. I thought of him a great deal. I wanted to be back with him but I was not going to submit to his arrogance. He had decided to go; he had come back before the appointed time. Well then, he must not expect me to break up my plans because of him.

  Clytie seemed better over the next day or so. She still insisted that Ralph be watched over and it was rarely that one of us was not actually in his presence. This had to be maneuvered for it was necessary not to let him suspect that he was being watched over.

  I spent a good deal of time with him and I was always alert for the clue which would explain something of what had happened on that night.

  Once in his playroom I said: "Do you remember the lovely elephants with their golden cages and canopies?"

  He nodded. "Mine was the best," he said.

  "You didn't really ride on one."

  "I did. I did. I rode right in the jungle. Mine was the fastest."

  "What happened in the jungle?"

  "There was a httle house and there was a man."

  "What sort of man?"

  "A nice man."

  "Just a man?"

  "And a woman. She said: 'It's all right You're going to see your mama soon/ "

  My heart was beating fast. "Where was your mama then?" I asked.

  "You know."

  "I don't," I said. "Where was she?"

  "She was with the others."

  "What others?"

  'Tou and Papa and Sheba and ... my elephant and Cobbler. . . ."

  "What was the man like?"

  "He's got yellow eyes."

  "Yellow eyes?"

  "They shine. I'll show you, Sarah." He had picked up the toy cobra, that rather frightening object because it looked so real. Chuckling, he pressed the head and the tongue shot out.

  "Are you frightened, Aunt Sarah? He'd kill you. It's poison in his tongue. Never mind. I'll shoot him with my bow and arrow."

  The toy swayed for a moment and slowly fell to the ground. Ralph picked it up.

  "Yellow eyes," he said.

  "You were telling me about the man," I reminded him.

  "Mama says they're like topaz. That's a stone. It's yellow like Cobbler's eyes."

  I could see it was useless. Clytie was right, and I had promised her not to let him know I was probing. It was clear that he had no notion that anything alarming had happened on that night. He had gone off with some people who had been kind to him and after a while he had come home. It was a simple adventure . . . nothing compared with what happened with his snakes and elephants.

  Seth returned and I said that as Clinton was back I thought I should go home. I left in the late afternoon when the heat had subsided.

  When I returned the house was very quiet. I expected Clinton would be home by nightfall. I was looking forward to our encounter. I had shown him quite clearly that he could not command me.

  I had missed him. Was I fond of him? I did not understand this emotion that took possession of me. It was different from anything I had imagined in those dreams of romance which I suppose come to every young woman. I had been away from him for two weeks and it seemed too long. Had he felt that? Perhaps, but it was merely because his business had been completed earlier than he had expected that he had returned home.

  When he had left he had had that light of battle in his eyes. I wondered what contracts he had been arranging. They would occupy him completely and then when they were satisfactorily completed he would say: Time for my wife. And snap his fingers and expect her to come running.

  "Well, it is not going to be like that, Clinton," I said aloud.

  It seemed long before darkness fell. Silent-footed servants lighted the lamps. I waited and waited. It was nearly midnight and he had not come.

  I went to the bedroom. All the time I was listening for his arrival.

  I sat at my dressing table and loosened my hair.

  Suddenly I heard a sound outside the door. I started up. There was a gentle tap.

  "Come in," I cried and Leila entered. Her eyes were wide with assumed innocence. She was hiding some secret which she found intensely gratifying.

  "What is it, Leila?" I asked.

  "I turn down bed for you?"

  "It's not necessary." I turned back to the mirror, watching her reflection in it. She still hovered. I saw the slow smile curve her lips.

  "Master not coming home," she said. "He did not come all the time you been away."

  "Oh?" I said.

  Leila went to the bed and starting plumping up the pillows. She lingered, looking malicious and
triumphant in a way.

  I wanted to shout to her to go but I was afraid of betraying my disquiet. I didn't want her to know how disturbed and angry her words had made me. My eyes fell on the bronze Buddha, which seemed to be watching me superciliously.

  "I don't want this thing here, Leila," I said. "Would you like it?"

  She turned from the bed, her eyes wide with horror. "Oh no, missee. Bad luck." She smiled rather slyly. "Master hke it very much."

  "I don't believe in bad luck," I said. 'Tou can take it and keep it in your room."

  She took it from me, shaking her head. Then she lowered her eyes and gave a sly kind of giggle. "My sister Anula give it," she said. "When she was here . . ." She looked round the room as though when her sister Anula had been here it had been a holy place. Her eyes went to the bed and stayed there.

  I wanted to tell her to get out, but I said nothing.

  She replaced the Buddha; and I knew then what she was telhng me. I knew where he was.

  "Good night, Leila," I said.

  She went out, taking her secret smile with her.

  I stared at myself in the mirror. Color was in my cheeks and a bitter anger in my heart.

  I lay under the mosquito net thinking about him and Anula and the fact that everyone knew of their relationship, which he had not thought necessary to cut off completely even though he had brought home a wife.

  A fury seized me. I was agonizingly jealous. I tried to shut out the pictures that would keep coming into my mind.

  I did not sleep until it was nearly time to get up. Then I was late rising.

  I was determined to give no indication of the emotional stress I was feeling.

  All through the next day I was tense and waiting. Every time I heard horses' hoofs I was alert. I rehearsed what I would say to him.

  I caught Leila watching me slyly. "Missee not well?"

  "I am very well, thank you, Leila," I replied coldly.

  "Look tired. Not sleep well?"

  Almost mocking and would be if she dared. I knew she was thinking of her sister because she always wore a reverent look when she did so.

  I felt uneasy, alone in an alien house. I thought of going back to Clytie. That seemed feeble. Besides I did not want her and Seth to know that Clinton had deserted me.

  I sent a messenger over to ask how she was and to tell her that owing to my absence there was a great deal I had to attend to here. I should see her very soon.

  The messenger came back with a note from Clytie thanking me for all I had done for her and telling me that she was feeling better and had had a long sleep free of nightmares.

  I got through the day somehow; but again he did not come.

  Another day passed.

  It was midnight when he returned. I was lying in the bed we shared when he burst in. I pretended to be asleep.

  He prepared himself for bed and then came to the bedside and looked down at me for some moments before he drew back the net.

  "Well, Sarah?" he said.

  I did not answer, keeping my eyes closed.

  "You're not asleep," he said. "Stop pretending. You've been lying there in a fever of impatience awaiting my return. Admit it."

  I opened my eyes. "So it's you."

  "And you are very angry with me."

  "Why should I be?"

  "Because I was not here when you deigned to return."

  I sat up. "What you do is of no importance to me."

  "Don't add lies to your unwifely conduct."

  "It's late," I said. "I am rather tired."

  "Don't you want to know what delayed me?"

  I got out of bed. "I think I know already," I said. "Why don't you go back there? I am sure you will be more welcome there than you are here."

  "I go where I want," he retorted. "Not where I'm told."

  "And," I replied, "so do 1.1 am going to another room."

  He caught me at the door. He put his finger to his lips. "Servants," he said. "They watch. They whisper."

  "Let them."

  "Yes," he said. "Let them. But even so you are not going to leave me."

  "I shall go where I wish."

  He caught me and held me fast. "Don't ever do that again, Sarah. I don't like it."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Refuse me."

  "What of you? Where have you been these last two nights?"

  "Teaching you a lesson."

  "I don't need to be taught."

  "Let's hope not again."

  "If you think I am a sort of slave and you have only to clap your hands . . . come here ... go there . . . you have made a mistake."

  His answer was to pick me up and carr}' me back to the bed. He threw me on it none too gently, and despite myself I felt the old excitement creeping over me. I did not want to run away. I wanted to stay and fight.

  It must have been obvious to us both what tiie outcome would be. He would have his victory but it would not be complete because I would not let him think that he had subdued me by anything but superior physical strength.

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  He was triumphant. There was a complacent air about him. I went round the plantation with him. He suggested it the following morning. I had learned enough to know that there was an orderliness about Shaw's which Ashington's lacked. The workers seemed more alert—but perhaps that was a temporary phase because he was there—but even the plants looked more glistening and a more verdant green.

  "I'm going to take you with me next time I go," he said. "I want to show you my rubber trees and of course the pearl fisheries."

  "We'll see," I said, which made him laugh.

  He pointed out to me the careful pruning which had taken place.

  "There's an art in it. I have the best men. I lured some of them from Ashington's. That was in your father's day. He used to say to me, 'I daren't let you know when I've got a good man. You'll take him from me.'"

  "I can quite believe that."

  "I've allowed you to spend so much time at Ashington's so that you could compare the two plantations. I think you know a little now and can possibly see."

  "I think mine is a very fine plantation."

  "I see that a httle knowledge is a dangerous thing indeed. There are improvements I'd like to make over there, Sarah."

  "I daresay Seth will make what he considers best."

  "Seth would do what he was told."

  I said nothing. Resentment was rising in me. I knew what he

  meant. He wanted to give Seth orders. He wanted to combine the plantations. He wanted the biggest and most profitable plantation not only in Ceylon but in the whole of India.

  No! I thought. I shall not allow it.

  I kept thinking of the previous night and I hated both myself and him.

  I was sure he had taken me past Anula's house on purpose. It was a charming place surrounded by flowers. Nankeen was working on the fence.

  I said: "Where is this?"

  "It's Nankeen's daughter's place."

  Nankeen looked up and bowed to us.

  "Busy, Nankeen?" said Clinton.

  "My daughter requested this little repair," replied Nankeen. "It is but a small matter."

  "The garden's looking well. My wife is fond of gardens, aren't you, Sarah?"

  I murmured something. My resentment was rising rapidly. He was devilish. He was showing me where he had spent those nights when I had waited for him.

  "Very nice flowers, mem-sahib," said Nankeen. "Sahib makes pretty garden here."

  Sahib! That was Clinton.

  "My wife would like to see the garden."

  I looked at my watch.

  "There's plenty of time," said Clinton with a touch of malice. He had dismounted, and short of turning around and riding back there was nothing I could do but follow.

  Nankeen took our horses and tethered them. Then he opened the gates and bowed.

  "I tell my daughter," he said, smiling in a manner which betrayed the fact that he realize
d there was a certain drama in the situation. He went into the house.

  I began: "I have no intention of paying a polite call on your mistress."

  "To be impolite is hardly what one expects from a lady so shortly out from England."

  Anula was standing in the doorway. Her beauty was breath-tak-

  ing, I had to admit—that sleek dark hair which shone like satin, those enormous dark eyes. How beautiful were these women and never more so than when they moved. Then their bodies had the grace of a jungle animal, which had the effect of making me feel incredibly clumsy. My hair was untidy under my topee, which always fell too far over my eyes. I was wearing a muslin blouse and a black riding skirt. I suffered in comparison with this beautiful elegant creature. She had the grace of the Singhalese and the dignity of her Portuguese ancestors—she had taken the best from both sides. I could really believe she was the reincarnation of that wicked queen.

  "It is a great pleasure." Her eyes were on me, amused by my discomfiture. "Please come in."

  "Anula longs to show you her house," said Clinton. "As for Sarah, she is overcome by curiosity. Sarah loves our houses, don't you, Sarah? They are so different from the ones she has known in England."

  "Come," said Anula, jingling the bracelets on her arms. "But first refreshment."

  She clapped her hands. So he provides servants, I thought.

  "Anula's specialty," observed Clinton when drinks were brought. "She will tell no one how she makes it."

  "It does not intoxicate," said Anula. "Not very much." She smiled at me. "You are settling in, Leila tells me."

  "Yes," I answered.

  "My wife is amusing herself learning about our ways."

  They laughed together. There was something significant about this.

  She was all smiles but I could see that there was an intensity behind those soft looks. She seemed a little uneasy and I wondered whether Clinton was warning her as well as me. It was a ridiculous situation and an intensely humiliating one. Was he implying "This is my wife!" to his mistresss and "This is my mistress!" to his wife? Was he telling us both that this was the situation as he wanted it and we must therefore accept it? He was arrogant enough for that. He imagined himself as some feudal lord with absolute rights over everyone.