The Orchid Hunter

by Jill Marie Landis

  “You should be thanking me for getting you out of the dressmaker’s alive.” Janelle reached over and straightened Joya’s hat and the satin bow tied beneath her chin.

  “It was horrible. First that woman tapping her foot and making that tsk, tsk sound and then all of that talk about how the sun has ruined my skin. Then, when she came at me with all those sharp pins, yelling at me to stand still, wrapping me in fabric. Can you blame me for bursting out in a Matarengi war cry?”

  “I’m certainly glad that Madame Fifi did not hit her head on anything when you began to scream and she fainted. I assure you that you will find those few moments of misery worthwhile when you see your new wardrobe. Madame Fifi is one of London’s finest seamstresses.” Janelle looked out the window and smiled. “Life with you is anything but boring, Joya. Ah, we’re here at last. Now, come along and try not to get into any trouble between the coach and the door.”

  “Where are we?”

  “You said you wanted to see where your orchids had gone. We are at Mandeville Imports.” Janelle gathered her skirt when the carriage door swung open.

  Joya wondered at her sister’s ability to move so nimbly beneath so many layers of clothing.

  “We’ve come to pay Trevor a surprise visit. Stir up his tidy schedule a bit. He is, no doubt, happily up to his neck in work,” Janelle said.

  ‘Trevor?” Joya put her hand to her breast and shrank back against the squab seat.

  “Are you coming?”

  Joya had not really seen anything of him except for a brief period at dinner the night before, during which time Adelaide demanded his full attention. She mustered the courage to step out of the carriage. As she approached the huge double doors and slowly read the Mandeville Imports sign high above them, she realized that she no longer had to be in Trevor’s immediate presence to suffer heart palpitations. The mere idea that she was about to see him again had brought them on this time.

  Inside the front office, Joya was introduced to Jamison Roth, a man with a long face who looked to be slightly older than Trevor, but not by many years. Janelle told her that Jamison was an accountant who had been in the Mandevilles’ employ for a little over a year.

  “Your sister is lovely,” he said to Janelle.

  Joya noticed he was staring at her, but speaking to her sister.

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Roth,” Janelle said. “I’ll take that as a compliment to myself as well. Ah, I see I’ve embarrassed you now.”

  He bowed to Joya and tried to offer her his chair. Too nervous to sit, she smiled, but declined.

  “Mrs. Mandeville has graciously invited me to attend the coming dinner party at your home. Will you save a dance for me, Miss Penn?”

  He was staring in a way that made Joya blush.

  “Save a dance? How does one save a dance?” she asked.

  “Just say yes, Joya. I’ll explain later.” Janelle snapped her lingers in front of the accountant’s eyes. “Oh, Mr. Roth?” She snapped again. “Will you please stop staring at Joya like that. I’m beginning to feel quite neglected. Is Trevor here, Roth?”

  “Yes, but he is with Lord Howard’s solicitor just now. Perhaps I can be of help?”

  “My sister is interested in seeing the warehouse, in particular her father’s orchid shipment from Matarenga.”

  Joya listened to their exchange and thought Mr. Roth quite well-mannered and precise. She was certain that Trevor must value him as an employee, but when she looked into Jamison Roth’s hazel eyes, which seemed intent upon roving over every inch of her, she experienced none of the symptoms that struck her when she was with Trevor.

  “Perhaps Miss Penn would permit me to show her the warehouse?” He was looking at Janelle now, which gave Joya ample time to study him.

  He was not as tall as Trevor, nor as solidly built and certainly nowhere near as handsome. He had a friendly enough smile, light brown hair, and a soothing voice, but he was no Trevor. She tried to hide her disappointment, for Janelle was considering his offer.

  “I suppose if Trevor is too busy…”

  “Too busy for what?”

  Joya turned at the sound of his voice. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Trevor framed in the doorway between the office and the great gaping warehouse behind him. An older gentleman entered the room with him, but she could not take her eyes off Trevor.

  He made a commanding figure, so broad-shouldered, outfitted in a fine black coat and trousers. His skin was bronzed, his dark eyes vibrant and alive. His hair had been trimmed and tamed and overnight he had changed from an orchid hunter into an elegant Englishman, but he still looked very fine and very fit.

  She could see now that there was no use comparing Jamison Roth to Trevor. None whatsoever.

  Janelle stood beside the corner of Roth’s desk. She answered Trevor when all Joya could do was stare. “Too busy to give Joya a tour of the warehouse. She wanted to see what has become of her orchids.”

  Before he responded, Trevor bid the solicitor goodbye. Joya heard the other man say, “If you ever change your mind, Lord Howard might still be interested.”

  When he turned around again, he looked at her first, then Janelle. “I don’t have time to give tours.” He appeared extremely uncomfortable.

  “I would consider it a pleasure to escort Miss Penn,” Roth announced. “I know exactly where the men put the crates from Matarenga.”

  Joya noticed that Trevor appeared to be worrying over something. “I asked about the orchids, but I see now that this was not a good idea. I should have remembered how very busy you are and how long you were away. You must have many very important things to do.”

  Her cheeks felt so hot that she thought she must certainly be glowing.

  Roth took another step, one that brought him very close beside her. “As I said, sir, I would be quite happy to—”

  “You have the new invoices to look over,” Trevor quickly reminded him.

  Janelle stood up. “Well, I see that I’ve created a dilemma that I must remedy. You are far too busy, Trevor. Please, stay on your schedule. We shall leave. Come, Joya.”

  Joya had not realized how desperately she had wanted to stay. She heard Trevor sigh. Then he set the papers in his hand on the corner of Roth’s desk and said, “I suppose I can spare a few minutes.”

  Janelle sat back down. “Good.”

  “Aren’t you going with us?” Joya began to panic at the idea of being alone with Trevor.

  “I’ve seen this place before. I’ll wait right here with Mr. Roth.”

  Roth’s smile faded. Trevor let Joya slip past him into the massive interior of the warehouse. It was gloomy and far colder than outside and there was a foreign, musty smell about the place. The gaslights flickered on the walls as if lighting the huge room was too great a struggle.

  Trevor seemed distracted as they walked between tall rows of crates and barrels stacked floor to ceiling. Two men came by, struggling under the weight of a huge gilt- framed mirror. Joya paused to watch. As the mirror passed, her reflection slid by. Not only did she see herself, but Trevor, who was standing behind her. Their eyes met in the mirror and held as the men carried the huge object past. His gaze, reflected back at her, was full of heat and something else she could not name.

  The mirror was gone and the moment over before she could ponder what his hungry expression might have meant. Ahead of them, she recognized the orchid crate and the barrels stacked together, huddled on the loading dock like tired immigrants. When she recognized her father’s bold writing slashed across the top and sides of the crates, she hurried over.

  A wagon pulled into the open side of the warehouse that Trevor had explained was a loading bay. Three men rode atop more crates and barrels stacked in the wagon bed. The men hopped out, acknowledged them by tugging on the brims of their caps, and then began to unload the shipment. Joya watched with one hand resting protectively atop a barrel of orchids.

  After an awkward silence, Trevor asked, “Would you like me to open it?”
>
  Suddenly, she needed to see the orchids she had climbed over Mount Kibatante to find, needed to be reminded of the vibrant colors of Matarenga, the warmth of the jungle, the golden sunshine and warm, gentle mist. Of home, and her father. Perhaps for a few moments, she could hold those treasured memories and forget the chill that never quite left the summer air and all the strange new sights and sounds of London.

  “I would love to see them,” she confessed.

  He called over one of the men wielding a crowbar and in seconds had pried off the top of a barrel. Thanking him, Joya reached inside and lifted away the dried moss and coconut fibers she had helped collect and pack around the plants. Beneath them lay the orchids, tired but alive.

  “It’s so sad, don’t you think?” She looked at Trevor, who was standing across the loading dock watching the men work.

  When he realized she had spoken to him, he turned. Suddenly she found it hard to see him surrounded by blossoms gathered from all over the world. He should be out collecting, free of his black coat and trousers, dressed in khaki. He needed to be living life the way she had first seen him, not shut away in this dark warehouse, buried beneath crates and paper invoices.

  “Pardon me? What did you say?” he asked.

  “It’s so sad, to see them all packed together in there, away from the air and the sunlight.”

  “They are only plants, Joya.”

  “But they are every bit as alive as you and I.” She bent over and inspected a few specimens, lifting away a bit more packing material. “At least most of them are. What will happen to them now?”

  “Tomorrow there will be an auction. I’ve already put the word out to the Orchid Society members that Dustin Penn’s latest, long-awaited shipment has arrived. The orchids will be sold and taken to conservatories like the one my father built at Mandeville House.”

  “I have not seen your conservatory yet. Will you show it to me tonight?”

  “When I have some free time. Have you seen enough here?” He sounded so formal, so vexed, that Joya quickly turned away so that he would not see how he had wounded her.

  “I’m sorry I bothered you, Trevor.”

  Practically at a run, she started back without him, weaving her way through the aisles of boxes and crates and barrels stacked to the ceiling, through the dark gloom of the warehouse interior. She hurried on without looking back.

  The aisles became a maze of twists and turns. She went around one corner and then another. The hollow sound of Trevor’s footsteps echoed behind her.

  This is hopeless, she thought, after making another turn. She had somehow lost her way. Trying to catch her breath, she stopped and pressed a hand against a stitch in her side.

  Suddenly, she felt his hand upon her arm, just above the elbow. She spun around and found herself looking into Trevor’s dark eyes and saw the same expression in them, the same need she had seen in the mirror.

  “Why did you run away like that?” His eyes were dark, piercing.

  “I knew I was bothering you. I became lost,” she offered lamely.

  “Now you are found.” Without any warning, he pulled her into his arms. She slammed against his chest, felt his strong arms close around her and was suffused with his warmth and solid maleness.

  Before she realized what was happening, he lowered his face to hers. She went perfectly still. The only sound she heard was the sound of their breathing, the rush of her heartbeat echoing in her ears. His mouth covered hers. His lips, surprisingly soft, began to move. His tongue slashed across the seam of her lips. She gasped against his mouth, inadvertently giving him access. His tongue slipped in, explored, tasted.

  His arms pressed her closer. She moaned, not in fear, not in protest, but from the sheer delight of the intimacy, the taste and scent of him.

  Then just as quickly as he had grabbed her, he let her go. Unbalanced by the power of his kiss, shaken by its stunning arousal, she stumbled back. He reached for her again, caught and held her arm until she was steady on her feet before he let her go.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t…I can’t imagine what came over me.” He looked fierce and began to rub his forehead.

  “You kissed me!” She was stunned. All she could do was stare at his mouth and wonder at the magnificence of his kiss.

  “I’ve never done anything like that before.” He shook his head and appeared to be talking to himself more than her.

  “You’ve never kissed anyone?”

  “I’ve never been so impulsive. I’ve never in my life grabbed a woman.”

  As she watched, he seemed to shake himself and then draw himself up. His expression went from stunned confusion to one of cool, solid assurance. Tugging on the edges of his jacket, he cleared his throat.

  “I’ll take you back to the office,” he said stiffly.

  She was baffled. Was that all? Was he not going to say anything about the wonderful, incredible thing that had just happened to them? Was this the way of it? After kissing, was one expected to go on exactly as if nothing extraordinary had happened at all?

  “Fix your hat,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Your hat. It has drifted over to the side of your head.”

  “Oh, no.” Instead of making the repair easily, she tangled the ribbons in her hair and winced when she tried to unsnarl the whole mess.

  Trevor sighed. “Let me.”

  He stepped close until they were toe to toe. Joya closed her eyes. Gently he tugged and lifted and pulled until her hair ribbon was free and the hat mounted correctly. Then, with the utmost care, he tied the satin ribbon beneath her chin.

  Had his hands lingered after the bow was tied? Lost in a haze of confusing sensations, she could not say.

  She whispered, “Thank you.” Then, without a word, she followed him back to the office door. Trevor opened it and let her pass.

  She stood in the center of the small office with her cheeks afire, feeling as if she had stepped out of a dream from which she never wanted to awaken.

  There was no sign of Jamison Roth, only Janelle, who had found paper and pen and was sketching. She looked up, seeming to be inspecting them both closely. Then she slowly smiled.

  “How was the tour?”

  Before his kiss, Joya knew she would most likely have blurted, “Trevor kissed me!”

  But now, having been kissed, having been in Trevor’s arms and kissed so very well, she did not want to share the secret just yet. Perhaps if she held her silence, she might be able to hold on to the strange yet wonderful feelings gamboling around inside her.

  “You two look as if you have had a shock. Was there something wrong with the orchids?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Joya glanced up at Trevor. He was still frowning, his dark brows drawn together. He reached around her to pick up the papers he had left on the desk.

  “I saw my father’s orchids.” She found it hard to get the words out, to form a comprehensible thought.

  Janelle suddenly went very still and appeared thoughtful. After a slight pause she said, “Well, then. It’s time we went home.” She came around the side of the desk and took Joya’s arm. “Trevor, will we see you at dinner this evening?”

  He shook his head, almost as if coming back from somewhere far away. “Not tonight. Please, remind Grandmother that I have a meeting.”

  “Joya?” Janelle hesitated, as if waiting for her to say something.

  Adrift in the heady, intoxicating memories, Joya realized she was staring down at the raspberry slippers Janelle had loaned her. She mumbled good-bye and thank you to Trevor.

  Janelle told her brother good-bye and led her out the wide double doors. When Joya finally worked up the courage to look back over her shoulder, Trevor still had not moved. Through the open doors, she saw him standing near the desk, frowning down at the papers clutched in his hand.

  * * *

  Janelle climbed into the carriage behind Joya and sat across from her. Some
thing had happened between Trevor and Joya in the warehouse, something that had inexplicably changed them both. Her sister had walked back into the office stunned and disoriented, while Trevor’s expression had alternated between puzzlement and distraction.

  Now Joya, the same young woman who could not sit still before, sat in silence with her hands folded in her lap and a faraway look in her eyes. Janelle somehow sensed the turmoil bubbling inside her sister so greatly that it even left her feeling unsettled and jumpy.

  “Are you feeling all right?” she finally asked Joya.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “You are so quiet.”

  “Perhaps I’m tired.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Janelle wanted to add that perhaps she was hiding something, but she let Joya keep her secrets.

  “I was wondering if you might be suffering from that strange affliction that comes over you whenever you are near Trevor.”

  Joya shook her head. “Not that one.”

  “No?”

  “It’s…it’s something I don’t know how to put into words just yet.”

  “As long as you are all right,” Janelle said.

  Joya attempted a feeble smile and then she sighed. “I don’t think this is anything that one dies of, but just to be certain, I am going to swallow a pinch of dried goat’s udder with salt water when we get back to Mandeville House.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Joya found it easy to compare Mandeville House to a cavern, for it was a dark, hollow-sounding place with too many rooms where servants appeared and disappeared like jimbwa through long narrow passages and back stairs hidden away in the bowels of the house. At night the place grew still and seemed to fill itself with shadows, silent sighs, and loneliness.

  After sharing dinner alone with her sister, Joya had followed Janelle up to her studio where she viewed the many wonderful paintings her sister had begun over the past few months.

  Scenes of the African jungle brought to life on canvas, the deep forest greens, emerald leaves shimmering with jewels of dewdrops, stark white and crimson splashes of blossoms tucked between the leaves—all of her sister’s paintings brought the sting of unexpected tears of homesickness to Joya’s eyes.