Green Eyes

by Karen Robards

  “And so where is my lady Green Eyes now?” Intent on his prey, Julian pounced on the part of the information that interested him and disregarded the rest.

  “Uh …” Jim rubbed his finger down the center of his nose, a habit of his when he was distressed. “You ain’t gonna like this part of it.”

  “So tell me.”

  “Seems like the whore and the chit and the little lass sold that bracelet to get some money. The next day they was on a ship. To Ceylon.”

  “Ceylon!” For a moment Julian felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach.

  “Told you you wasn’t gonna like it.”

  “What about the emeralds? Did she sell the rest of them before she left?”

  Jim shook his head. “I couldn’t find ’ide nor ’air of the rest. And if I couldn’t find ’em, they ain’t in London.”

  “Damn it to bloody hell!” Julian slammed his fist into the side of the carriage. It hurt, which didn’t make him feel any better. For a long moment he sat there, nursing his bruised hand and thinking furiously.

  “You gotta put it outta your mind, Julie. We need to lay low for a while, get outta London, You’re supposed to be bloody dead, remember? We got enough to catch a packet to France—”

  “France, hell! We’re going after those emeralds.”

  Jim groaned and shook his head. “I just knew you was gonna say that. Can’t you let those bloody things go? They’ve caused you nothin’ but trouble already.”

  Julian flicked him a look. “You don’t have to come with me.”

  Jim snorted. “If you go, I go. But we ain’t got enough money.”

  Julian smiled grimly. “We’ll sell the bracelet. That should bring more than enough to get us to Ceylon.”

  X

  Srinagar … verdant land. Never had the name seemed so appropriate as when Anna set eyes on the estate again after an absence of three quarters of a year. Despite the humidity, which made the air almost too thick to breathe, she jumped to her feet and removed her hat to improve the view as the ox cart in which they were riding rocked into sight of the Big House.

  “Missy sit. Missy fall,” the coolie driving them scolded, but Anna paid him no heed. Ruby, with an impatient “Tch-tch,” pulled her down again, but Anna’s eyes never left the house.

  It was a large house by English standards, made to look even larger by the verandas that surrounded it on all sides. The dazzling white walls were set off by cool green shutters. When Anna and Paul had been in residence, green-striped awnings had shaded many of the windows. The awnings were missing now, and the once well-kept lawn had degenerated into a waist-high tangle of weeds. The estate had been on the market since Graham had acquired it. Anna, fearful that Graham might learn the identity of Srinagar’s purchaser, had let Ruby, using her maiden name and money from the sale of the rest of the emeralds, buy the property from the broker. Ruby had then, in a private transaction that Graham could not possibly get wind of, turned the property over to Anna. The funds that were left over from the purchase would be enough to get Srinagar back on its feet again, as well as provide a small nest egg for herself and Chelsea.

  “Mama, isn’t anyone here?” Chelsea asked in a small voice, her hand creeping into Anna’s. Anna cast a quick look down at her daughter and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “How could anyone be here, since they didn’t know we were coming?” Anna asked reasonably. “We’ll get all the servants back soon enough, don’t worry.”

  Chelsea said nothing more, but continued to look wide-eyed at the house. The ox cart jerked to a halt before the front door.

  “Come on, chicken, we’re home.” Anna’s tone was bracing as she jumped to the ground. After the nearly day-long journey from Colombo, it felt good to stretch her legs. When Chelsea continued to stare at the house without moving, Anna reached up to lift the child out of the cart and set her down.

  “It’ll be cooler inside.”

  Ruby made a face at Anna behind Chelsea’s back. “Place is spooky,” she muttered, Anna threw her a quelling look and tried not to notice how tightly Chelsea clung to her mother’s hand as they entered the house.

  As Anna had predicted, it was much cooler there. The long windows were built into recesses, which made the interior surprisingly dark. Dust lay inches thick over everything, and the insidious rot that was so much an enemy of all things remotely perishable in Ceylon had gotten a good start on overtaking the house and furnishings. Curtains and carpets stank of mold, and great greenish-gray mildew stains had formed in the corners of the rooms near the ceilings. To make matters worse, an army of spiders the size of Anna’s fist had colonized the bedrooms. Ruby took one look and was all for heading back to Cap’n Rob and his ship, and thence to England. Anna had her work cut out for her to persuade Ruby that all these deficiencies could, in relatively short order, be corrected. Chelsea stayed close by her mother’s skirts. Anna was perturbed by the child’s wide-eyed silence, but she told herself that it was only natural that Chelsea be subdued under the circumstances. Once the Big House was in order and Chelsea was used to being home, the child would gradually revert to the ebullient little girl whose laughter had once echoed off these walls.

  It took much effort, but over the course of the next few weeks matters at Srinagar improved out of all recognition. The morning after their arrival, Kirti appeared out of nowhere, sensing in the uncanny fashion of the Tamils that her English family was back. Kirti and Chelsea greeted each other with loud cries. Tears rolled down Kirti’s plump brown cheeks as she cuddled her beloved nursling.

  “Missy, missy, oh my little missy!” Kirti, her arms tight around Chelsea, rolled tear-wet eyes up to Anna. “Bless you, memsahib, for bringing her back.”

  “Kirti, I’ve missed you!” Chelsea hugged the old ayah as if she would never let her go. Anna felt her own eyes grow moist as she watched the pair. In that moment, Anna realized just how very bereft Chelsea had been. Their removal to England had coincided with the loss of everything, except for her mother, the child had loved: Papa, ayah, home. Anna was suddenly desperately glad that she was able to give back to Chelsea a little of what she had lost. All at once the theft of the emeralds did not seem nearly so reprehensible. Wasn’t there a saying about the end justifying the means? Chelsea had needed to come home.

  With Kirti to take charge of Chelsea, Anna was left free to attack the worst of the neglect, with Ruby’s help. Great winged insects were swept from the house along with dust and stray leaves; bedding and window hangings were aired or replaced; floors and walls and windows were scrubbed. In the mysterious way that news always managed to spread about the island—Anna had never been sure whether it was clairvoyance or something more nearly resembling jungle drums—the rest of the household staff began to drift back by ones and twos.

  A week after their arrival, Raja Singha, the imperturbable magician whom Paul had always referred to with enormous understatement as their house-boy, appeared on his elephant with all his worldly goods strapped behind him. Anna had rarely been so glad to see anyone in her life. Raja Singha was the Ceylonese equivalent of an English major domo, with a touch of black magic thrown in. As if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to appear out of nowhere, he responded to Anna’s joyous greeting with nothing more than a solemn nod. He then proceeded to transfer his belongings back into the mud-and-thatch hut beyond the garden that had been his home from the time Paul and Anna had first arrived in Ceylon. Within an hour of his arrival he had taken over the running of the house. In his own silent and inscrutable way Raja Singha drove the rest of the staff without mercy. As a result, the work was completed in half the time Anna had guessed it might take. It was certainly pleasant, she reflected, to be able to crawl into bed at night without having to worry about what kind of creature one’s toes might encounter between the sheets.

  Sleeping alone in the bedroom she and Paul had shared proved impossible. At night Anna would fall into bed, exhausted, only to lie awake while images of Paul
flickered through her mind. Although she hated to admit it even to herself, a smidgen of guilt might have been part of the reason she was so afflicted. Because sometimes, in the dead of night, Paul’s dear face and form grew blurry to her mind’s eye. Instead she saw a darkly handsome visage with wicked midnight-blue eyes; felt the strength of a tall, muscular, overwhelmingly masculine body clamped to hers; experienced again the devastation of a bold stranger’s kiss and touch. Then, to her secret mortification, her body would burn for more of the same. She would toss and turn, fighting the shameful feelings that grew stronger as time passed, refusing to allow herself to dream of a dark, impudent stranger who had dared to treat her as a woman, not a lady.

  On more than one occasion, she rose from her bed before dawn and visited the solitary grave on the knoll behind the house, where she would keep a lonely vigil until the sun began to creep over the horizon. Then, like a thief in the night, she would creep back into the house.

  Still the image of the housebreaker refused to be erased. At night his shade came to torment her at least as often as Paul’s, pushing aside her gentle husband’s smiling face with the memory of how his mouth had claimed hers, of how her flesh had grown hot under his hands. Where Paul’s ghost racked her heart, the housebreaker’s racked her body. Tormented and ashamed, Anna could find no surcease from the longings that plagued her. Quite disregarding her mind, her healthy young woman’s flesh hungered. Try as she might, she could not drive from her dreams the way the housebreaker had made her feel. That she could fantasize so about another man, and not just any man but a stranger, a criminal, with Paul not yet a year in his grave, appalled her.

  Sick with guilt, she took what steps she could to alleviate her nightly suffering. To that end she moved into one of the other bedrooms, a large sunny room overlooking the rear instead of the front lawn. The bed was small and narrow, almost austere, designed for one, not two. The nursery was just along the hall. Anna took comfort from the knowledge that Chelsea was nearby. In this new setting, free of memories of the days and nights she had shared with her husband, Paul’s shade haunted her less. But with Paul’s lessening grip on her dreams, the housebreaker gained strength. He came to her almost nightly, kissing her as he had kissed her that night at Gordon Hall, his hand hard on her breast. And so, ashamed, she writhed and burned.

  With Raja Singha to see to the house, Anna’s only remaining worry was to find someone to oversee the growing of the tea. More from necessity than choice, Paul had always performed that function himself. His efforts had sometimes been less than successful, although Anna felt disloyal even admitting such a thing to herself. Still, Paul had been a gentleman, not a planter. When they’d arrived in Ceylon, she an eighteen-year-old bride and he scarcely older, he’d known next to nothing about the cultivation of tea plants. Over the years he’d read a great deal and learned a little, although from one cause or another Srinagar had never turned a steady profit. But now that, thanks to the emeralds, she could afford to do so, Anna was determined to hire the best overseer she could find. She meant to make a success of Srinagar this time.

  To that end, about a month after their arrival, Anna sent a note to Major Dumesne asking him to please call at Srinagar as soon as possible. The Major and his wife, Margaret, were not only the undisputed social leaders of the English colony in Ceylon. Their plantation, Ramaya, was also the most prosperous on the island.

  The Major came two days later. Raja Singha installed him in the front parlor, then came to find Anna. She was in the garden with Chelsea and Kirti, using pruning shears to vigorously attack the ubiquitous vines that had all but taken over her vegetable garden. Keeping good English vegetables alive and well in the heat and humidity of Ceylon required constant hard work. Between vines and rot, the battle was never ending.

  “Memsahib, Major Dumesne has called.”

  Anna looked around at that. Raja Singha, in the sarong and turban that, along with a long, collarless shirt, made up his customary dress, stood waiting for her impassively just beyond the garden gate. As usual he was expressionless, but something in his stance told her that he was perturbed.

  “Is anything the matter, Raja Singha?” she asked, feeling faintly worried. Raja Singha was not one to allow trifles to disturb him.

  He shook his head in the abrupt negative that was so characteristic of him. But he still stood waiting for her instead of taking himself off, so Anna divined that he wanted her to hurry. Pulling off her gardening gloves and hat, with a promise to Chelsea that she would be back as soon as she could to play hide-and-seek, she went inside. Raja Singha followed her.

  Anna stopped only to wash her hands at the washstand near the back door—a task with which Raja Singha was clearly impatient—then continued to the front parlor. Although it had been in dreadful shape just a month before, it now looked much as it had before Paul’s death. The walls had been scrubbed and whitewashed, the furniture and floor polished, and the upholstery beaten to within an inch of its life. In fact, the tall-ceilinged parlor looked quite nice, Anna thought, entering with Raja Singha hovering behind her. Like her bedchamber, it had white muslin hangings that could be adjusted to block the worst of the afternoon sun. A portrait of Paul’s mother hung in the place of honor, its soft blues and rose picking up the colors in the carpet and upholstery. A mahogany bookshelf filled with Paul’s beloved books took up most of the space along one wall, and small mahogany tables glowed with the rich patina produced by much elbow grease. Perched on a corner of the rose brocade sofa was Ruby, resplendent in one of the bright silk dresses that not even the heat could dissuade her from wearing. Clearly Ruby had already taken the entertainment of the Major upon herself. She was leaning forward tantalizingly, offering the Major, who was smiling broadly, what Anna feared was an overabundant view of her décolletage as she handed him a cup of tea. At once Anna understood the reason for Raja Singha’s agitation. The Ceylonese were a puritanical lot, and Ruby was outside their ken.

  “Thank you, Raja Singha, I’ll ring if I need you,” Anna said quietly to her shadow. With a bow Raja Singha took himself off. At that moment Major Dumesne and Ruby became aware of Anna’s presence. Major Dumesne stood up, looking a little flustered at having been caught so obviously enjoying the view. Ruby grinned unrepentantly at Anna.

  “Mrs. Traverne, we’re so pleased that you were able to return to us. Life had grown very dull around here without the sunshine of your presence.”

  “Thank you, Major.” As he approached her, Anna held out her hand which he shook and then carried briefly to his lips. Really, despite his clear appreciation for Ruby, the Major was a very nice man. Anna had grown fond of him and his wife, and they had helped her immeasurably in the dreadful days after Paul’s death, when she had been nearly demented with despair. “Chelsea and I are very glad to be back. I see you’ve met Mrs. Fisher, who was kind enough to accompany us on our journey.”

  “Ah—yes. How delightful that you have brought with you a rose to add to our lovely garden of English blossoms.”

  “A rose … now that’s what I call a pretty compliment. You certainly have a way with words, Major,” Ruby said, beaming at the Major as, following Anna’s lead, he resumed his seat.

  The Major laughed, then glanced rather guiltily at Anna. She couldn’t decide if the guilt was because he had laughed in her presence—her widow’s weeds might make him feel that his merriment was somehow inappropriate—or because he was enjoying Ruby too much for a man with such a nice wife.

  “And how is dear Margaret?” The inquiry was not meant to be pointed, although the Major’s smile vanished with it. The look he gave Anna was grave.

  “I’m afraid I have sad news. Margaret passed way some six months ago. As with your husband it was a fever—in three days she was gone.”

  “Oh, no! Oh, Major, I am so sorry! She was such a wonderful woman—I was so fond of her. How awful for you! Such a tragedy!”

  Major Dumesne nodded. For a few moments he looked far older than his forty-some-odd yea
rs as lines of sorrow deepened in his face. “It has been hard on the children, of course, Gideon and Simon are at school in England, so they at least are removed from their sorrow. But Laura—she misses her mother very much. I would appreciate it if you would bring Chelsea to see her. Perhaps, given the similarity of their losses, they can console each other.”

  Laura was the Dumesnes’ seven-year-old daughter. She and Chelsea had been fast friends since they could toddle.

  “Of course I will. And you must bring her to see us. We’d be glad to have her any time. And you too, of course. I know how dreadful it is to lose one’s spouse.”

  “That’s kind of you. Perhaps, like our children, we can console each other.” He smiled at Anna, and some of the lines in his face eased. “And now, let us speak of other things. I didn’t mean to put such a damper on good company.”

  Anna regarded him with compassion. He and his wife had had a good marriage, and their three children had adored their mother. Life was horrible sometimes, she reflected. Horribly unfair.

  “Would you want another cuppa, Major?” Ruby’s voice was soft with sympathy, although Anna recognized the glint in her eye as purely feminine interest in an attractive man. And the Major was attractive, Anna realized. With his graying fair hair and erect military posture, he was quite distinguished-looking. From long experience she knew that Ruby was nothing if not an opportunist. And with the news that the Major was a new widower, she had clearly spied a golden opportunity. It was written all over her face.

  “Thank you, I believe I will have another.” The Major accepted a refill from Ruby, smiled at her warmly, then turned to Anna. “Was there a particular reason you wished me to call, Mrs. Traverne?”