The Orchid Hunter

by Jill Marie Landis

  Penn took a healthy sip of whiskey, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Tell me why, after all these years, I need a broker?”

  “Because I have seen some of the greatest orchid finds of the decade—your finds, Mr. Penn—undervalued by other auction houses.”

  “I make enough to keep me and the Matarengi happy.”

  “Have you planned for Joya’s future? What if something were to happen to you?”

  Penn appeared thoughtful as he stared out the open doors. Beyond the veranda, the water in the lagoon had gone from turquoise to red-gold in the light of the quickly lowering sun.

  “There is an account in London in her name,” Penn informed him. A frown marred his features. He looked as if he would rather be anywhere else, discussing anything else. “It holds a considerable sum already, one that would be a small fortune most anywhere in the world.”

  “Does Joya know?”

  “No.” The orchid hunter shook his head. “No. I have never discussed it with her.”

  Trevor wanted to ask him why he thought he was so invincible, why he had never considered that he might suddenly die and Joya would never learn the truth of her background or that her father had provided for her future most amply. Then he reminded himself Joya was not the issue now.

  “You are out of touch with current orchid prices. I am not,” Trevor said. “Did you know that one recent new find was sold for over five hundred pounds?”

  At that Dustin Penn sat up straighter, leaned forward in his chair, and dangled the empty whiskey glass in his hand.

  “Five hundred, you say?”

  Trevor felt the excitement of a firm commitment in the making. He too, scooted to the edge of his seat.

  “Since your name has become synonymous with rare finds, you could be making much, much more for every specimen. For the privilege of buying just one of your orchids, collectors would be willing to pay tremendous amounts. If you deal through Mandeville Imports exclusively, I would raise the price of your plants to six hundred pounds and even hold some back for the most wealthy collectors. I can foresee bidding wars that will put more money into both of our pockets.” Trevor paused, then added, “And, of course, more money to put away for your daughter’s future.”

  Penn said nothing. In the awkward silence, Trevor tried to think ahead, to answer any questions before Penn could pose them.

  “If you are wondering why you should trust me, let me just say that Mandeville Imports is generations old and has an impeccable reputation,” Trevor added.

  “No need to assure me of that,” Dustin Penn said. “I know of your company. I haven’t completely cut myself off from the world. I have a network of dependable bearers and shipping firms already in place, Mandeville.”

  “Not that dependable, or I wouldn’t have been able to find you.”

  “I’ve sent plants to Italy, Germany, Belgium, to all the countries where men have gone mad over orchids. I have kept up with the bulletins from the Orchid Society whenever I could get them. Mandeville Imports’ reputation is no secret. I knew of the work your father did before you, of his designing conservatories and collecting on his own. I recognized the Mandeville name the night you first told me who you were. That’s why I wanted you off the island. I knew Clara had given Joya’s twin to your father. I was afraid that somehow the truth had come out, that someone unknown to us knew of Joya’s birth and that you had come for her.”

  Trevor nodded. “I had no knowledge of her. With or without Joya and Janelle’s connection, you can rest assured that I would see to it that our contract with you is more than generous.”

  “You said you had another reason for coming here.”

  “Word is just out. Prince Albert has conceived of and is planning a Great Exhibition. He intends to bring together the nations of the world to show the very latest in industrial processes and art beneath great glass domes designed by Joseph Paxton. He was a friend of my father’s and the creator of an outstanding glass conservatory at Chatsworth.

  “The Prince has also challenged the Orchid Society, orchidologists, and hunters around the globe to find an orchid worthy of Queen Victoria’s name. The first man or company to bring in the most spectacular, the most exotic orchid discovered to date will be given a royal appointment. There is less than a year left before the exhibition opens.”

  “What do I need with a title when I’m as good as king right here on Matarenga?”

  “Forget about the title then. Think of the additional money you would make. You do have a daughter to think about, Penn. One that will not be content to live here forever.”

  “You stand to gain as well, Mandeville, or you would not have come all this way to find me.”

  “As our partner, should you discover the orchid, Mandeville Imports would receive much acclaim, which would assure our position as one of the world’s leading import companies for another generation or two. As your sponsor, I would also be eligible for a title, which is something that would mean a great deal to my grandmother.”

  “But not to you?” Penn was watching him intently. Trevor knew he could not risk denying the truth.

  “I can’t say that I would turn down such an honor.”

  “I see folks in London haven’t changed much in the twenty years I have been gone. Still hold to titles, do they? Still look down on the common man?”

  “The Mandevilles are not aristocracy, Penn. We come from a long line of traders and merchants. My grandmother, on the other hand, is the granddaughter of an impoverished earl. It has always been her secret wish that somehow a title might be bestowed upon a Mandeville. This is my chance to give her that, as well as further the company’s reputation.”

  “If I agree to become your partner, then it will be up to me to find the Victoria orchid, is that it?”

  Full of pent-up energy, Trevor stood, stretched, and walked over to the open door. He did not know Penn well enough to know for certain whether the man was about to agree to his offer, but if he was any judge of men, Penn was close.

  He stared out at the burnt orange sun flaming just above the horizon. Within moments, it would be dusk. He turned around again, crossing the room toward Penn.

  “I intend to continue my search for the orchid as well. I’ve had some great success in Venezuela and am eager to return. What I would ask is that you divulge some of your own knowledge. Teach me a little of what you have learned and refined about orchid hunting over these past years.”

  “Why aren’t you a professional orchid hunter instead of trying to run a business at the same time?”

  “I fancy myself both, but you are the best in the world, Penn. While you continue to search here on your island, I intend to make one last trip, this time to Venezuela. Armed with some of your secrets about altitude, climate, and growing mediums, I’ll search the other side of the world on my own. Hopefully one of us will come up with Queen Victoria’s orchid by next spring for the exhibition.”

  “In other words, you want it all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You want my business, my expertise, my daughter.”

  Trevor stiffened. “I want nothing of the kind.”

  “You don’t want my business, then?”

  “I want a percentage.”

  “My expertise?”

  “Yes. In exchange you will receive my brokerage expertise and what Mandeville Imports can bring you.”

  “And my daughter? Do you want her, Mandeville?”

  “No, I do not want your daughter. Not in the insulting way I think you mean.”

  Trevor knew he sounded harsh, but Penn had touched a nerve by stepping too close to the raw emotion, the need Joya threatened to awaken in him. Penn’s words conjured up unnerving images.

  The man completely surprised him when next he said, “For Joya I will go into partnership with Mandeville Imports. I will sit down and try to tell you something of what I’ve learned.”

  Trevor kept his excitement in check. His long trek had been worth
while. He would soon be privy to Penn’s secrets and have a signed contract.

  “But before I sign any agreement, Mandeville, there is something I must ask of you.”

  “What is that?”

  “Take Joya to London with you and your sister for an extended stay. Give them time to become acquainted.”

  As much as Trevor wanted to refuse, he knew that he couldn’t. Not only because Penn might renege on their deal, but because of what having Joya with her would mean to Janelle. His sister would have his head if he refused. “How can I say no?”

  “I want you to swear you will see to her safety. Promise me that you will protect Joya just as I would. I want your word that you’ll keep your hands, and those of every other swain in London, off her.”

  Chapter Nine

  While her father and Trevor discussed business, Joya led Janelle around to the back of the house, found a piece of soap in a wooden box near the back steps, and took a cloth from the hemp clothesline strung between two trees.

  Then she lit a torch and walked her twin to a natural stream with a deep pool in the volcanic rock not far from the house. Surrounded by a grove of palms and a wall of bamboo, it was a secluded, tropical oasis.

  Twilight had deepened by the time they reached the water’s edge. The torchlight shimmered on the opaque surface, creating long spears of light that wavered in the rippling water. The breeze inspired the bamboo to sing with soft, hushed sighs.

  “It is so beautiful!” Janelle spread her arms wide, taking in the scene. “Absolutely lovely.”

  Joya felt proud and happy to have so easily pleased her sister. She shoved the torch handle into the soft sand near the edge of the pool and then indicated the soap and towel.

  When Janelle finished with her face and hands, Joya led her over to a large, flat boulder beside the stream. Time and water had worn the volcanic rock smooth. She sat down and Janelle sat beside her.

  “Do you know what they were like, our true mother and father?” Joya asked, longing to know something of the man and woman who had been their parents.

  “Our father was a scientist, a botanist. A man who studies plants. Stephanie, our mother, was very young when they married. Trevor’s father once told me that she loved to read poetry and tried her hand at writing. Stephanie and Osmond were very much in love. Our mother died shortly after she heard that our father had fallen to his death. I believe she didn’t wish to live without him.”

  Joya stared at ripples on the water and wondered what it would be like to love someone so much that life itself dimmed in comparison to that love. She was very aware of her sister, seated so close. The nearness gave her a feeling of comfort and familiarity. Her fingers touched her amulet pouch. There was magic at work here. Magic of a kind she could not define.

  “Do you feel it?” she whispered.

  “I feel so peaceful inside. Is that what you mean?”

  “Yes. Even if I never see London, if I never leave Matarenga, I know now that you are real and not part of my imagination. I feel a strange sense of peace, the way I feel whenever I float in the lagoon on a warm day.”

  Janelle took hold of both of her hands.

  “I cannot wait for you to see London. You have no need to worry about anything while you are there, either. Our parents left me an inheritance as well as an old manor house in the country. The place is much in need of repair, but it belongs to both of us now. You’ll never have to worry about money, or anything else for that matter. Trevor is concerned that you will have a hard time adjusting to our way of life.” Janelle laughed at that.

  Joya smiled, not because she understood, but because the sound was an echo of her own laughter.

  “He is afraid of what I might teach you,” Janelle explained. “He thinks of me as something of a bluestocking—a woman with intellectual interests. Men in England don’t care much for women who admit to being able to think for themselves. I, on the other hand, have a perfectly capable mind and I use it. I love art. I love to read and discuss all the latest notions on politics and philosophies and I have an odd assortment of Bohemian friends.”

  Joya nodded, fascinated, as she watched the reflected torchlight play on the lenses of Janelle’s spectacles. She had little understanding of what her sister was going on about.

  “Grandmama, that is Adelaide Mandeville, thinks I should be settled and married by now. We have always disagreed on most everything. I fear she has always loved Trevor more, for he is her flesh and blood, but she has always provided for me and let me be as independent as I have wanted to be.”

  When Janelle paused, stretched, and yawned, Joya realized her sister was tired.

  “Why don’t you go back to the house while I bathe? You can slip into my room from the side door and sleep with me.” Joya could not bear the thought of being separated from Janelle now that she had found her.

  ‘Will you be all right out here alone?”

  “This is my home. I have nothing to fear here.”

  As soon as Janelle left and walked back toward the house, Joya pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Night shadows had cooled the close, humid air. She felt a chill ripple over her exposed breasts. Her nipples tightened.

  She stood up and shucked off her trousers, stepped out of them, and dove beneath the surface of the chilly water.

  After a long hike down the mountain, she always relished a long soak in the pool. With all that had happened today, she found the kindred spirits of the water a godsend. She closed her eyes, touched her amulet pouch, and gave thanks for all of her blessings.

  She dove under again, surfaced, and shook her hair back off her face. Then with long sure strokes, she swam back. A dark shadow shifted behind the torchlight.

  Someone had come to share the pool.

  * * *

  Trevor heard a splash over the whisper of the bamboo and the sound of the waves breaking on the far reef. He paused on the narrow stone walkway leading from the house to the pool, where Dustin Penn had suggested he look for the twins.

  The glimmering torchlight reflected off Joya’s golden skin. At the sight of her rising from the water like Botticelli’s Venus, he froze, bewitched as she waded toward the edge of the pool.

  Her skin, slick with water, sparkled in the torchlight. No siren, no practiced courtesan could have been any more seductive. She was as naked as the day she was born, lithe, supple, perfectly formed. Her breasts were full, her nipples puckered into tight buds. The small leather pouch on a cord around her neck dangled between her breasts.

  Obviously she felt no shame. How could she, he wondered? She had been raised by a housekeeper and a father who had gone native, and was far from drawing room material. He had seen her in the wild blithely directing a work gang of half-naked Matarengi, hacking her way through the jungle swinging a machete. She was a combination of what her father and mother had told her of the world they had left behind and what she had learned from the Matarengi.

  He wondered if he should backtrack, uncertain that she had even seen him in the shadows, until she suddenly said, “Hello, Trevor. Did you come to bathe?” Speechless, he was mortified to be caught staring, but she was not at all bothered by his presence.

  “Do you always do that?”

  “Do what? Bathe? Yes.”

  “No. Swim. Without…clothes.”

  “Why would I get my clothes wet? Besides, I am bathing.”

  “Well, I…it’s just that…”

  “Do you bathe in your clothes?”

  “No, but I bathe in a tub.”

  “A tub?”

  He waved his hands around, trying to give her an idea of something large and low to the ground. “A tub is a container that holds water and you…you take off your clothes, in private, and climb into it to bathe.”

  Realizing he was still staring at her naked form, he looked away, scanning the dark edges of the jungle beyond the torch’s glow. “Aren’t you worried that someone might come along and see you?”

  “Everyone bath
es here. Everyone sees everyone.”

  “Indeed.”

  He heard a splash and turned around. Joya was across the pool now, up to her waist in water, scrubbing her face, her neck and shoulders. She lathered her hair before she dove in to rinse off. When she began to swim back, he faced the other way.

  She was quiet for so long that he was finally forced to ask, “Are you dressed?”

  “Yes.”

  When he turned around, she was close enough for him to feel the warmth emanating from her. Her long hair, pulled to one side, curled over her shoulder. Even with the rise of her breasts showing above the edge of a colorful woven fabric, she looked perfectly at ease.

  He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. His blood was running hot as molten lava, and it wasn’t from the humid tropic heat.

  Obviously Joya’s ignorance of the rigid standards of propriety and her complete lack of modesty was fueling his physical reaction. Why else would he be so inexplicably drawn to her? So quickly aroused?

  She stood there bare from her toes to her ivory thighs, wearing no more than a piece of bright, native woven cloth that revealed the soft curve of her hips, her narrow waist, the rise of her firm breasts.

  “You should cover yourself decently.” He realized that he had sounded a bit too harsh when the words slipped out of him almost of their own volition.

  “This is much more than the Matarengi women wear.” Joya shook out her hair. Her fingers caught in the tangles of her curls as she tried to separate them. She had no idea what she was doing to him.

  “In case you have not noticed, you are not a Matarengi woman. Did you see my sister’s gown?” he asked. “It exposes only her neck and shoulders, her wrists, the slightest glimpse of the toes of her shoes. Her skirt is shaped like a bell, to disguise the shape of the lower half of her body. In England, that is how far a lady will go to cover herself. Society’s rules dictate our dress.”