The Moonlit Garden

by Bomann, Corina

  Rose’s heart was thumping as she stepped around the puddles. There had been a heavy rain shower the previous night, which had done nothing to freshen the air. Mist was now clinging to the mountain slopes like cotton wadding draped over green velvet.

  She paused shortly before reaching the alleyway. Her hands were clammy with anticipation, and her cheeks felt flushed. If anything happens to us on this trip, it won’t only be Carmichael who curses me to high heaven, she thought. She shook her head, pushed these thoughts aside, and strode determinedly on. She heard horses snorting, and as she rounded the corner, she saw three of them. A brown-skinned local man was holding two of them by the reins, and Paul was stroking the mane of the third.

  “Ah, here you are!” he called out as he caught sight of Rose. “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.”

  “Why should I?” Rose replied, then greeted her fellow countryman in Malay. “You must be waiting for someone else?”

  “No, why?” Paul gave her a broad grin. “My attorney, Mijnheer Dankers, has ridden on ahead. He wanted to talk to my future business partner. Prepare the ground, if you like.”

  “Isn’t the plantation owner keen on going into business with you?”

  “Yes, of course, but the plantation I’d like to invest in isn’t doing too badly, and we can’t rule out the possibility of him finding another partner. For example, if I were to be unpleasant to the owner, the transaction certainly wouldn’t come off.”

  Rose had to accept that the world of men was still a mystery to her. She sometimes found it absurd to listen to Carmichael’s reports of how arrangements came to be made, but she told herself she was an artist, someone who had no need to understand business.

  “So you’ve got to make sure you’re nice to him,” she replied, causing Paul to laugh.

  “Your delightful company will play a part in that. Everything else will be dealt with by my attorney. All I need to do then is to smile and make a few intelligent remarks.”

  “Do you really think that I can influence the plantation owner?”

  Paul’s eyes met hers, and she was struck dumb. It was not the look of a man who saw her as a mere traveling companion he was taking along to make a good impression on a potential business partner. That look promised something completely different.

  All Mrs. Faraday’s warnings about moral behavior flooded back into her mind. It was not seemly for a young woman to ride out into the wilderness with a man. A chaperone or at the very least a servant would be essential. Yet here she was with a man whom she found incredibly attractive, accompanied only by a guide who would certainly do nothing to safeguard her virtue.

  But did she want to safeguard her virtue? She was not the spoiled daughter of an aristocratic family. And she considered herself to be clever enough to avoid a scandal. Why shouldn’t she give in to what her heart desired?

  “So, you’re not waiting for anyone else?” Rose looked around. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to leave the city, since she never knew what Carmichael might be doing.

  “No, we can get going. I hope this isn’t the first time you’ve been on horseback.”

  Rose shook her head. “My father taught me to ride. I may be a bit rusty, but once I’m in the saddle, I’m sure it’ll soon come back to me.”

  Once they had left the city behind, Rose felt a deep sense of relief. Until then she had been afraid that Carmichael would appear, realize what was happening, and drag her from the horse. But it hadn’t happened, and now she was surrounded by the magnificent greenery of the jungle with its birdsong and monkey calls.

  “It doesn’t seem to worry you, being here in the great outdoors,” Paul remarked as he steered his horse to walk beside hers. Their guide rode on a little ahead, but Rose knew full well that there was little danger lurking beside these tracks. The tigers were deeper into the jungle. Only older animals who were too frail to hunt ventured close to human settlements. Snakes and spiders were scared off by the hoofbeats, and the peaceable orang hutans posed as little danger to the travelers as the numerous types of small monkeys. A sharp-eyed observer could see any number of magnificent birds and butterflies.

  “Of course I’m not worried. This is my home,” she replied with a laugh. “Believe me, I’d be more afraid to ride through certain areas of London. Out here there’s nothing that could put us at risk.”

  A smile flitted across Paul’s face. “Good old London isn’t as bad as you make out, but I know what you mean. It’s paradise here. The more I see of your island, the more I come to the conclusion that this must have been the Garden of Eden.”

  “I’m sure there are others who come here and think the same. Nevertheless, I’ve seen a lot of beautiful places.”

  “But none to compare with your home island, I imagine?” Paul gave her a searching look.

  Rose realized there was no point in denying it.

  “No, hardly anywhere comes close to Sumatra.” She smiled. “Do you intend to come here often?”

  “After all I’ve seen, yes. I find the island really inspiring, and it’s good for my health to be away from the cold and damp for a while. Of course, I have to take care of my business interests in England, too, but I can imagine spending a few months a year here—perhaps spend the winter here, when England is at its most cheerless.”

  “And what does your fiancée have to say about that?” As she saw Paul’s expression darken, Rose regretted asking.

  “Ah yes, Maggie.” He paused, giving the impression he regretted his answer before he had spoken it aloud. “She has a very low opinion of this country. I feel as if I have to say that every day to people I deal with.” He shook his head. “To be honest, I’m no longer sure whether Maggie is the right woman . . . ” He hesitated, and to judge by his expression, he must have been having dark thoughts. “I mean, I don’t know whether I . . . want to marry her.”

  Rose gasped with shock. “You can’t say something like that!”

  “Yes, I’m saying it,” he replied forcefully, as if trying to convince himself of the words. “I’m saying it because that’s how I feel! If I can come to an agreement with this plantation owner, I’ll have to spend time here regularly. A lot of time, and I don’t want to spend it alone. I need a woman who’s willing to travel with me, who’s prepared to venture into the unknown. I don’t need a woman who’s afraid of monkeys or the local people, even though there’s nothing to fear.”

  Rose looked at him, deeply shaken. She had not expected him to be so open. Part of her was delighted, but mostly she was shocked. Had her secret wish for everything to turn out in her favor really been so strong? But what if it threatened to come true? Would she be prepared to marry Paul? Or at least become his lover? Would she be prepared to give up her music for him? Certainly not the latter, but Paul would be sure to understand that.

  They rode on in silence until the sun sank gradually to the horizon and the air became thick with mist. The guide finally rode up to them and reported in broken Dutch that the plantation was nearby.

  “Did you hear that?” Paul turned to Rose with a smile. “We’ll soon find out whether the plantation is a worthwhile investment or a drain on resources.”

  The plantation house looked a little weathered, but it glowed like a pearl amidst all the surrounding greenery. The owner had two dogs to keep guard over his property. Rose recognized them from a distance as bloodhounds, since some of the wealthy gentlemen in London had acquired similar animals to protect their land and property.

  The high black iron gates, each with a finely wrought rosette at its center, looked forbidding, as did the tall hedge that rose up on either side of the gateposts and screened the property from prying eyes. Why these safety precautions? Rose wondered. Out here no one would dream of robbing them, and wild animals would find their way in whatever the barriers. The dogs would not stand a chance against a tiger.

  A bell rang out over the grounds to announce their presence, and a furious barking started up as the two muscular
black dogs hurled themselves against the gates with such force that the horses jumped back in fright.

  “Well, if the man of the house hasn’t heard the bell, the dogs certainly have,” Paul remarked.

  Only a few moments later two men walked down the path toward them. One of them, a tall, strong-looking guy who reminded Rose of a game warden, carried two leashes, which he used at lightning speed to restrain the raging beasts. He snapped at them sharply and gave the leashes a couple of short, sharp tugs. The dogs yammered briefly before settling down submissively at his feet.

  “Spiked collars,” Paul whispered, correctly interpreting the question in her eyes.

  The second man then opened the gates. He was clearly not the owner of the plantation but the butler of the house.

  “Welcome, Mijnheer Havenden,” he said, turning to Rose inquisitively.

  “This is my fiancée, Maggie Warden,” Paul said, shocking Rose into silence.

  “Mijnheer van den Broock and Mijnheer Dankers are expecting you. Please, will you follow me? Anders will take care of the horses; they’ll be in the best possible hands with him.”

  The servant, who had so much and yet so little in common with an English butler, turned to go. Only then did Rose dare to throw Paul an indignant glance. What did he mean by simply introducing her as his fiancée? The two men they were about to meet must know what Paul’s fiancée looked like. She would have liked to haul him over the coals then and there, but she held back. If it all blew up in his face and the men started to ask questions, it would be interesting to see how he talked his way out of it.

  Full of fear and resentment, Rose hardly noticed the wonderful garden. It was only as they reached the steps leading up to the house that she became aware of a sea of flowers. The plantation owner had little regard for the traditional English garden, allowing everything to grow rampant, similar to the methods of her mother’s ancestors. As they climbed the steps, she saw beyond the house, almost hidden by all the greenery, the planters’ and harvesters’ sheds. Behind them, terraced fields of sugarcane stretched into the distance.

  “At first sight it’s not at all bad here, is it, darling?” Paul asked with a shameless grin.

  Rose made no reply. The real Maggie probably wouldn’t have responded any differently, she thought as the servant led them through the entrance hall into a kind of reception room with timber paneling almost hidden behind an array of paintings. By now, Rose felt fit to burst, but she put on a pleasant face until the servant finally left the room.

  “What did you mean by that?” she hissed angrily at Paul. “Your attorney must know I’m not your fiancée!”

  “My attorney doesn’t care about such things, and in any case, he hasn’t seen Maggie once.”

  “Have you been planning this the whole time?”

  A mischievous smile flitted across his face.

  “No, it occurred to me on the spur of the moment. And it does save us a lot of explanation. Otherwise everyone would want to know who you are, the nature of our relationship, and so on. As my fiancée you’ll be accepted as you are and can enjoy your anonymity.”

  “But it’s the height of impertinence!”

  “Oh, come on, Rose. I’m sure you’ve got nothing against a bit of harmless fun. See it as that and enjoy it. It’s only for two days. Anyway, I’m sure our host will envy me such an enchanting woman, and it will make him a bit more kindly disposed toward me when it comes to discussing the conditions.”

  An enchanting woman? Under other circumstances she might have enjoyed hearing it, but right then his remark made her furious. Was Paul laughing at her expense? And if the whole thing was meant to be a bit of fun, why had he not included her from the start?

  Before Rose could start up with a new tirade, the door opened again, and the servant reappeared accompanied by two men. One was of medium height and somewhat stocky build with dark hair and a long beard, while the other was tall and blond and dressed in simple but stylish clothes that identified him as the plantation owner. Paul threw Rose another pleading look before offering the blond man his hand.

  “Mijnheer van den Broock, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person. This is my fiancée, Maggie Warden, who is completely delighted by your wonderful estate.”

  Suppressing her resentment, Rose managed a smile. She noticed that the man scrutinized her closely, probably noting the hint of the exotic in her appearance, but as she didn’t want to cause trouble for Paul, she said: “I’m delighted to meet you. Paul has been talking about nothing but the plantation for days.”

  Van den Broock, who did not look like a man with much of a sense of humor, laughed. “Ah well, we’ll soon see how long his enthusiasm lasts. My plantation is doing well but could be more profitable if I had a reliable partner.”

  “I believe you, and I’m sure that Paul is the right man for the business.”

  Had she gone too far? Again she noticed van den Broock staring at her skeptically.

  “You speak outstanding Dutch. May I ask where an Englishwoman learned to speak it like that?” he asked eventually.

  Rose had not even noticed that she had replied in the plantation owner’s own language. Now she realized that in playing the part of the real Maggie Warden she should have acted as if she didn’t understand him. Her pulse began to race.

  “I learned it from my mother,” she replied, which was not actually a lie. She lowered her gaze, feigning shyness but in reality in an attempt to conceal her anger with Paul. “She learned the language as a child.”

  “Remarkable. I’m glad that I’m in company where I don’t have to inflict my poor English on anyone. Now, shall we move to the dining room? My cook is a real miracle worker, though I fear I don’t value his wonderful creations as much as they deserve. But I make it up to him by regularly inviting guests to dine with me, thus allowing him to show off his talents to the full.”

  The meal the cook conjured up for them consisted mainly of local specialties, some of which were sharply spiced. Van den Broock seemed to be as used to this cuisine as Rose was, but Paul was clearly having problems with the hotness. The sight of him reaching for his water glass, his eyes streaming, too proud to admit that it was too much for him, made up a little for the game in which she was an unwilling accomplice. The food brought heat to her own cheeks, but her mother’s cooking was sometimes even hotter than that of the plantation owner’s cook.

  After dinner, van den Broock drew them into a seemingly endless conversation about sugar production. He was extremely knowledgeable about the climate, animals, and species of Sumatra as well as being thoroughly versed in the region’s political circumstances. Paul responded with anecdotes about his estate back home, about horse breeding and arable farming, which appeared to be a favorite topic of both men.

  Rose was pleased that the plantation owner only rarely spoke to her. The questions he did ask revolved mostly around London, which van den Broock had never seen. This meant that Rose could answer effortlessly, although she had to take great care not to lapse into anecdotes about Mrs. Faraday’s conservatory. Once, when the talk turned to her interests, she almost gave herself away by enthusing about Vivaldi’s works. Paul immediately made light of it, remarking that she was a more than competent violinist, whereupon the plantation owner naturally asked for a sample. Fortunately his violin was a really basic instrument, and she ensured her playing was deliberately lackluster so that no one noticed this woman was actually one of the best violinists in the world.

  Paul found this highly amusing, and after she finished, gave her a conspiratorial wink so that Rose found it impossible to stay angry with him. Yes, it really was amusing to mislead the plantation owner like that. Rose played along, and the rest of the evening was enjoyed by them all.

  When she finally lay in her bed, she looked pensively out the window, watching the bats and night birds that flitted past every now and then.

  That evening she’d had a small taste of what it would be like to be Paul’s fiancée. She had en
joyed being acknowledged by the men without once having to show what she was capable of. Yet she had also noticed that in their eyes she was nothing more than an appendage of Paul’s. Onstage and afterward all eyes were on her, and no one who heard her play ever doubted her talents. By Paul’s side she had felt downright worthless—or was that merely because of the new identity he had imposed on her? She still felt a little resentful toward him because of it. Where would the harm have been in introducing her as an acquaintance? Van den Broock did not give the impression of being a great music lover, but she could have contributed a lot more to the conversation than she was able to under the circumstances.

  Yet, however annoyed she felt with Paul, she enjoyed being close to him. Even if he was a dreadful rogue, she nevertheless wanted to make sure he got his share in the plantation. On the way back—provided the attorney, who had been very reserved the whole time, did not ride with them—she would tell him exactly what she thought.

  The next morning she was woken by Paul at the crack of dawn, since van den Broock had promised to show them around the sugar plantation. At first she had no idea where she was, but when she saw Paul, who had simply let himself into her room after knocking, she jumped up.

  “What are you doing here?” she cried out in alarm, pulling the sheet up to her chin.

  “Good morning, Rose. Please excuse my coming in unannounced like this. Yesterday I . . . I had a flash of inspiration. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I think I should make the most of my opportunity.”

  He paused briefly and took a deep breath to calm himself.

  “Couldn’t it have waited till later?” Rose asked in amazement, feeling a little nervous as Paul seemed completely out of sorts.

  To her huge astonishment he suddenly knelt down by the bed.

  “Rose, will you be my wife?”

  Rose’s eyes widened in shock, and she flinched back as if he had handed her a hideous bug.