“I am sure that I shall admire it very much,” Dominica said in a low voice.
She hoped as she spoke that she would also admire its present occupant.
Supposing Gerald Warren had a broken heart for the girl he had lost and could not bear the thought of another woman taking her place?
‘I must be very kind and understanding,’ Dominica told herself.
She was used to being gentle and compassionate.
After her mother had died her father often insisted that she went with him when he visited the families in the native quarters whom he considered his special charges.
Many of them were old, ill or dying. Some of them were deformed. A number of children were sick.
As if he read her thoughts. Lord Hawkston asked unexpectedly,
“What did you do when you accompanied your father on his visiting?”
“Papa is always trying to convert the Ceylonese to Christianity,” Dominica answered. “Mama used to say he should have been a Missionary. There are many families who have been baptised by Papa and he never allows them to become indifferent to their promises.”
She gave a little smile.
“Sometimes I think he bullies them into being Christians whether they like it or not. He is certainly very severe if they miss Church on Sunday without a really valid excuse.”
Lord Hawkston was quite certain that the Ceylonese, who were an easy-going and friendly people, were easily pressured by the Vicar into doing what he wished, but aloud he said,
“You have not told me what you did.”
“I looked after the children while Papa remonstrated with their parents or I would try to make the elderly and the sick comfortable. I think many of them just enjoyed seeing me because I was someone to talk to.”
“I can believe that,” Lord Hawkston commented.
Dominica looked out of the train.
Walking along the roadway that ran beside the railway line she could see a Buddhist Priest in the bright saffron yellow robe that proclaimed his calling.
“I can never understand,” she said speaking her thoughts aloud, “why any Buddhist should ever be willing to change his religion to Christianity. Buddhism is such a happy religion.”
“You have read about it?” Lord Hawkston enquired.
“And talked with many Buddhists,” Dominica replied and then added hastily, “Not that Papa would have approved, but I was so interested in their beliefs, in fact I have often wished that I was a Buddhist.”
“Perhaps you were in a previous incarnation,” Lord Hawkston suggested.
She smiled at him.
“Do you, like them, believe in reincarnation?”
“Shall I say I consider it a possibility,” he replied.
Dominica’s eyes were alight with interest.
“It seems the only just – the only right explanation of all the troubles and ills of the world,” she said. “The Priests are so dedicated, yet quiet and unobtrusive. They never force their convictions on anyone.”
Lord Hawkston knew that she was thinking of what a contrast they were to her father.
He had begun in the last few days to realise that Dominica was extremely intelligent and thought far more seriously than he would have expected any other girl of her age to do.
He supposed in a way it was part of her unusual upbringing and yet despite her ignorance of the social world he could not help realising that she had a mind that could not be confined and would touch heights that other people would never reach.
“I will tell you something that will please you,” he said unexpectedly.
“What is that?” Dominica enquired.
“I have already written to the bookshop in Kandy to despatch a consignment of their very latest volumes to the plantation.”
The way Dominica's face lit up told him how pleased she was even before the words came to her lips.
“You will have plenty of time for reading,” Lord Hawkston said, “when Gerald is out in the fields, but there is one thing I must say to you.”
“What is that?” Dominica asked a little nervously.
“You must not do any work in the house yourself.”
“Why not?” she queried.
“Because you will have an adequate supply of servants and to take over what is their work would be to insult them and suggest that you do not think they are competent.”
“And if they do things wrong?”
“Then, of course, you can explain exactly what you require,” Lord Hawkston replied. “But no scrubbing, no washing or dusting!”
“What about cooking?” Dominica asked faintly.
“The cook I have in my house is extremely proficient. If by any chance he has left, which I think is highly unlikely, then of course you can teach whoever takes his place, but you are not, and let me make this quite clear, Dominica, you are not to cook yourself.”
She gave a little sigh and then she said,
“I can see you are turning me into a grand lady. No wonder you have ordered a number of books for me to read. But what may I do?”
“You can ride for one thing,” Lord Hawkston answered “I have a feeling that you would look well on a horse.”
“We used to ride a pony when we were children,” Dominica said, “but when he died we could not afford another one.”
“I will teach you to ride,” Lord Hawkston said and then added as if it was an afterthought, “unless Gerald wishes to do so himself.”
The train drew up at the Station where they were to disembark at about half past three in the afternoon.
Before they reached Kandy they had eaten at midday out of a delicious luncheon basket that Lord Hawkston had brought with him from the Queen’s House.
There had been delectable and exciting dishes such as Dominica had never tasted before and there was a golden wine to drink, which she felt was bottled sunshine.
Now, as they stepped out of the Station, she felt a little sick and wondered if it was from an inner fear or whether she had eaten too much at luncheon.
There was a carriage waiting for them and, as Lord Hawkston directed the porter who was collecting the luggage from the van, a Ceylonese man came towards him.
“Ranjan!” Lord Hawkston exclaimed. “How nice of you to meet me.”
He shook the man by the hand then turned to Dominica,
“This is Ranjan, Dominica,” he said, “my Overseer, whom I left in charge when I went to England. It is good to see you, Ranjan.”
“You too, Durai,” Ranjan replied. “We are hoping you come back.”
“Is everything all right?” Lord Hawkston asked.
“No, Durai, Plenty trouble,” Ranjan replied.
“I heard that there were some difficulties,” Lord Hawkston said, “but it is something, I promise you, I will put right.”
“What happen now no one put right,” Ranjan said in a low voice.
Tactfully Dominica turned aside, but she could still hear what the two men were saying.
“What has happened?” Lord Hawkston asked sharply.
“Seetha, girl Sinna Durai turn away, dead. We find body bottom of torrent this morning.”
Dominica was aware that Lord Hawkston was suddenly rigid. He had stopped moving and was standing in the sunshine facing the Overseer whose sarong was a patch of colour against the wooden walls of the Station buildings.
“She killed herself,” Lord Hawkston said almost beneath his breath.
“Yes, Durai. Lakshman, Seetha’s father, swear revenge!”
“You must find him, Ranjan,” Lord Hawkston said firmly. “Find him immediately. Tell him how I will give him full compensation and more for what he has suffered.”
“I try, Durai,” Ranjan answered, “but he plenty mad. Too late for money.”
“You must try, Ranjan. Say I have just arrived. Say I am extremely upset at what has occurred and ask him to come and see me immediately.”
“I do that, Durai,” Ranjan answered, but Dominica thought that his ton
e was doubtful.
“I will see you later,” Lord Hawkston said.
Then in another tone of voice to Dominica,
“Come, Dominica, you should not stand in the sunshine without your sunshade to protect you.”
“No, of course not,” Dominica replied.
Obediently she opened her sunshade and held it over her head.
Some of the luggage was piled onto the carriage they were to travel in, the rest Ranjan took with him in a rather curiously shaped cart, made of halmila wood, which Dominica guessed was used for carrying vegetables or bamboo about the plantation.
The carriage that drew Lord Hawkston and Dominica set off at a good pace, but once they had left the station the way was uphill and they soon slowed down.
Lord Hawkston did not speak and after a moment Dominica asked a little nervously,
“Who is – Seetha?”
“You heard what my Head man said to me?”
“I could not help it.”
“He should have been more discreet,” Lord Hawkston said sharply.
“You said the girl had – killed herself. Why?”
She knew that her question was unwelcome and yet some instinct told her that what had been said was of importance to her.
After a distinct pause Lord Hawkston answered,
“You have lived in Ceylon all your life, Dominica, and you must have been aware what a lonely isolated life the average planter lives in the hills. He is alone with only his coolies. That is why I was so anxious to find a suitable wife for my nephew.”
“Seetha is Ceylonese,” Dominica said, her eyes on Lord Hawkston’s face.
“Her name makes it obvious,” he said abruptly. “She must have been mentally deranged to throw herself down the torrent. It is a drop of hundreds of feet and if she fell on the rocks she would be rendered unconscious and therefore would be easily drowned by the falling water.”
“Why did she kill herself?” Dominica persisted.
Lord Hawkston did not answer and after a moment she said in a very small voice,
“Was it – anything to do with– Mr. Warren turning her away? That is whom your Overseer meant by Sinna Durai, was it not?”
Lord Hawkston had contemplated lying and then he knew that it would be an insult to Dominica’s intelligence.
It was unfortunate that Ranjan had blurted out in front of her the news of Seetha’s death, but he was not to know that Lord Hawkston had a wife for the Sinna Durai with him.
Ranjan in fact, as Lord Hawkston was well aware, was so worried and distraught by what had occurred that it had never entered his mind to be discreet in front of a stranger.
Choosing his words carefully Lord Hawkston said slowly,
“There are always women, Dominica, who are ready to supply the female companionship that young planters find essential when they are always alone.”
Although she made no movement, he felt that Dominica winced. He had the feeling that she had half-expected it and yet it was a shock when it was put into words.
“You mean – that Mr. Warren and Seetha were in – love with each other?” she asked in a hesitating voice.
“I mean nothing of the sort,” Lord Hawkston replied. “It is not a question of love as you and I think of it, Dominica. It is just that a man has a physical need for a woman and when a woman is ready to supply that need it can become an amicable businesslike arrangement.”
Dominica was silent for some moments.
Then at length she said,
“I think this must be one of the – temptations that Papa preaches against so fervently. He tried to have the places closed in Colombo where the planters met Ceylonese women because he thought such – associations were – wicked.”
“Your father has, understandably, rather extreme views on the matter,” Lord Hawkston said coldly. “But after all, until your mother died he was a married man, and therefore not subject to loneliness or to the temptations which, may I say quite frankly, are recognised by most people in this part of the world.”
“The girl killed – herself,” Dominica said. “Why did your nephew – send her away?”
“Let me tell you at once,” Lord Hawkston answered, “that this is nothing to do with your coming here and the letter I sent to my nephew announcing our arrival. It actually happened before I had even arrived back in Colombo.”
He felt that his explanation might make things better. But he saw that Dominica was very pale and there was an expression in her grey eyes that he could not fathom.
That she was shocked at what had occurred was predictable, but he could only hope that, if she understood that the situation had nothing to do with her personally, it would not disturb her unduly.
They drove in silence for a little while and then Lord Hawkston said,
“I want you to promise me something, Dominica,”
“What is it?” she asked in a low voice.
“You and I have become friends these last few days and I like to think that you trust my judgement, Will you trust me a little further when I tell you to forget what you overheard just now and put the whole incident out of your mind? Leave me to arrange matters as I think best.”
There was a little pause before Dominica said,
“I will – try.”
“You must remember that we have only heard one side of the story,” Lord Hawkston added. “I was told when I first arrived in Colombo that there was some difficulty over this woman, but I have not yet heard what Gerald has to say about it. I know you will agree that we must be fair and hear his explanation before we blame him in any way for what may just have been an unfortunate accident.”
Dominica could not answer and Lord Hawkston went on,
“As you can imagine, the coolies on the plantation who have little to think about exaggerate everything dramatically. They make a drama out of every small occurrence. I am confident that when I get to the bottom of things I will find it quite different from what we at present suspect.”
As he spoke, Lord Hawkston only wished that he could feel as optimistic as he sounded.
James Taylor had told him that Gerald was making a mess of things, but it was now very much worse than when James had come to see him in Colombo and warn him of what he might expect.
‘Damn the young fool,’ Lord Hawkston thought to himself and he was well aware that what had happened would travel like lightning round the neighbourhood.
What was more it would unsettle the work-people and do harm to the plantation. That, he thought, he could never forgive.
He himself had the reputation of being a hard taskmaster, but a completely just one.
He had also paid his workers generously. Despite the fact that he worked them hard, his coolies had all respected and had been loyal to him.
He could never remember a man leaving because he thought that he would find a better job elsewhere or being disgruntled at the treatment he received.
What could Gerald have been doing during the past two years? And how could he have destroyed the goodwill and confidence of an estimable man like Ranjan?
The only redeeming feature, Lord Hawkston told himself, was that neither Seetha nor her father was employed on the plantation.
That would have been the worst mistake of all and he could only be thankful that Gerald had not committed the unforgivable mistake of tampering with one of his own employees.
If Lakshman, Seetha's father, would not come to see him, Lord Hawkston decided that he must seek him out.
He had an idea that he belonged to a small village in the hills that was not far from the house.
‘It will be a question of money,’ he said to himself and hoped that it would prove to be so.
The Ceylonese were a quiet gentle people, but what worried Lord Hawkston was that Lakshman might in his grief and anger have gone mad. He had known it happen before and the consequences could be very unpleasant.
In the meantime he had two problems, to find Lakshman and to allay Dominica’s anxiety.
Lord Hawkston was not insensitive.
He knew that to any girl, especially one with as much character and personality as Dominica, it would be a shock to learn that the man she was about to marry had not only had a mistress but had also driven her to her death.
Too late he realised that the moment Ranjan began to speak of trouble he should have guessed it concerned Gerald and should have taken him out of earshot.
But he had supposed that the man was referring to something that had happened to the crops. It was always prevalent in his mind because of the coffee disaster.
Even now he would sometimes wake in the night to find himself sweating with horror as he recalled how he had put out his hands to pluck the leaves and rubbing the diseased patches, trying to tell himself that it was not the fungoid that he suspected, and yet even as he did so knowing that there was no hope.
It was with a tremendous effort that Lord Hawkston managed to speak lightly and, he hoped, normally as he said aloud,
“When we round the next turn of the road, you will see my house,”
They had been climbing all the time and the air, though still warm, had a freshness about it that Dominica had not known in Kandy.
As they reached the corner, Lord Hawkston said,
“Close your eyes!”
Dominica obeyed him and then heard him order the carriage to draw to a standstill. There was a moment's pause before he said,
“Look now!”
Below them was a deep valley surrounded by hills and behind them again there was a range of high-peaking green mountains. Directly ahead of them there was a cascade pouring downwards into a lake and descending again hundreds of feet in a torrent of silver.
Almost blinding in the sunshine Dominica could see beside it a long, low white house with wide verandahs on two floors.
The gardens surrounding it were a mosaic of colour, a blaze of jungle flame, yellow, gold, white-pink, purple and even blue, which she knew belonged to the nelu, which could carpet the ground with its rare blooms.
Below the house, rising from the depths of the valley to the edge of the garden, were the dark green tea plants luxuriantly filling their terraces, which were like steps rising towards a Temple.
Dominica drew in her breath.
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