In the star-soaked darkness she paused. “I’d rather walk, if you don’t mind,” she said distantly.
“In those heels? I doubt it. If you’re afraid of being whisked away to the plantation, you needn’t be. I don’t want you there alone.” A pause. “That shakes you, doesn’t it?”
“Nothing you could do or say would shake me now. Very well, we’ll go in your car.”
As he got behind the wheel, he said, “You may be interested to know that I got the ring back from Astrid before she left. One of these days I’ll give it to you, and you can drop it in the river.”
After that he drove without speaking, and did not even offer a remark when they met the usual procession of dancers carrying colored lanterns who were followed by a dense crowd of laughing villagers. The car crawled through the throng, stopped while a cart loaded with sweetmeats and fruits was dragged past them, and moved on. In the square, another small dance was in progress. The performers this time were children, solemn-eyed, rhythmic in their movements, brilliant in their miniature adult dress. Europeans had come out to their verandas to watch and applaud, and among them were Bill and Vida Winchester. Perhaps it was fortunate that they had joined the residents at the next house.
Terry was able to slip from the car, murmur, “Thank you. Good night,” and run into the house almost before Pete had a chance to shift from his seat. When she came out half an hour later the small dancers were being led away, and an older group had taken their place.
Watching the snaky hand movements, the strutting and posing, the bobbing lights, the triangular brown faces in the great glow, she wasn’t sure which seemed the most unreal—those dancers out there under the palms or herself sitting alone at the back of the veranda and feeling a bit sick and cold, and certainly more lonely than she had ever felt before.
When she went to bed that night she lay sleepless in a cocoon of misery. Could she possibly go on like this, longing for the love of a man whose every glance and cadence showed his enmity?
Next day the Vinan railway made the headlines in the local newspaper. The line had been cleared and repaired and it was thought that rolling stock for re-starting the service would be available in a few weeks’ time. Several different officials were congratulated on the speed with which the task had been accomplished; in all, it might not be more than three months from the derailment till the line would operate again. A truly magnificent feat in the jungle. Ending the report came a paragraph condemning the hotheaded action of the younger element of Vinan. The total number of cholera victims had reached only twenty, “an achievement for which we must thank the venerable headman of Vinan, Kim Mali.”
To Terry, when she read it, the item was like an echo of a past life. She couldn’t even recall very clearly how she had felt that day on the jetty at Vinan and next day in the headman’s hut. Very much younger, she was sure, and very different from the person she was now.
Even a casual glance into her mirror, these days, made her feel lost and vague and frightened. What in the world had happened to the eager and intensely interested young woman who had made the trip from England and happily boarded the river steamer at Shalak? Could one change so much in such a short time? The answer was yes, one could, if events conspired to cause it. She wondered how she would feel in perhaps a year’s time, with Penghu behind her, and found she could visualize nothing beyond today.
Friday morning came. Should she go with the Winchesters to the rubber plantation tonight, or pretend a headache? She had the conviction that Pete would let her get away with any excuse she might make; that was the way he felt now: hard and watchful and totally uncaring so long as she remained quiescent in Penghu. Well, there would be time to decide later in the day.
She was drinking lime juice with Vida when a scrawny old Malay brought a letter. Vida took it from him, found a coin and sent him happily on his way. She looked at the envelope and said with a smile,
“It’s for you, Terry. A good old-fashioned hand. I should say this beau is about seventy.”
Terry ripped the envelope, read the few lines of writing it contained. “It’s from old Mr. Bretherton,” she mentioned. “You know, the lawyer.”
“I wasn’t aware you knew him.”
“I met him at ... at Pete’s house. This is just an invitation for lunch today. He asks me to be there at twelve-thirty.”
“Heavens, what a bore. Some of these old Englishmen are a bit cranky, you know. He’s a bachelor, I believe, and he’s probably gone sentimental in his old age. You must have reminded him of the daughter he hasn’t got. Will you go?”
“I think I should. He means well.”
Terry recalled, dully, that Mr. Bretherton was a stickler for his own particular brand of etiquette. No doubt he made a point of keeping socially in touch with his clients and had a list which he ticked off as he performed this duty. He had now reached the name of Teresa Fremont.
“Do you know his house?” asked Vida.
“I did notice it once; he has his name on the gate. It’s a pale green bungalow near the town council offices.”
“If you’re determined to do your best by the old codger you may borrow my car.” Vida laughed a little. “Wear something very feminine. Old men always like that; it flatters them.”
Terry didn’t go indoors to change till after twelve, but she did take Vida’s advice. The frock she wore was pink with a stiff white collar and sleeveless, and to complete the picture she put on a white hat and sandals. She looked like a cream fondant, she told herself dispassionately, though Vida thought otherwise.
“It’s a charming get-up,” she commented. “It goes awfully well with that rather sad look you’re wearing these days. You look young and touching.”
“I don’t want to break the old chap’s heart.”
“He’s been a bachelor so long I doubt if he has one. He’ll be pleasantly stirred.”
Terry got into the car, waved and drove away, down between the houses where Malay women sat drinking aromatic beverages while their children played in dusty front yards, and out on to the main street. At exactly twelve-thirty she parked the small car under the clump of pandanus palms which overhung the lawyer’s front entrance, walked along a cobbled path and up into a dark little veranda. She rapped on the door, was received by a white-clad Malay who had the withered look of his master, and led into a heavily furnished sitting room.
Mr. Bretherton got up from a Victorian winged chair and held out a surprisingly cold, bony hand. “Good morning, Miss ... er ... Good morning. Come and sit down. Sweet of you to accept an old man’s invitation.”
“It was most kind of you to ask me,” Terry replied politely. “I hope you are very well.”
“A bit gouty, as a matter of fact.” His birdlike eyes peered out from under thick white brows. “I take it as a compliment that you have made yourself pretty for me. Aren’t you afraid I may bore you to death?”
“I think that’s very unlikely. You probably have a fund of experiences. For instance, you once practised in Kuala Lumpur, didn’t you? Weren’t you there when bandits tried to take over?”
“Yes. I’ve seen all kinds of things happen in Malaya, and I’m pleased to state that the present is the best time they’ve known here. Tell me, Miss ... er ... did you mind my asking you to have lunch with me?”
“Mind? I was pleased.”
“Quite willing to sit out a luncheon with an old man who certainly thinks of nothing else while he eats and drinks?”
She smiled. “Why not? You’re a great change from the other people here.”
“Good. We shall have a drink now. I shall give you sherry.”
Terry would have preferred iced lemon, but the old man was pedantic. He poured carefully from a decanter, replaced the stopper, lifted a glass and scrutinized the golden liquid before handing the drink to Terry. He took his own glass into his hand and went through the same performance before saying gravely,
“I drink to you, young lady. You are bearing a most uncomfortab
le situation with fortitude. With almost more fortitude, I might add, than that of your ... er ... partner in this affair. The other evening he overturned my small camelia plant in his fury. I gathered he must be upset by the departure of Miss Harmsen. Very unfortunate, that. I suggested that Pete should tell the woman the truth, but he was most ungrateful for the advice. That was when he ruined the camellia; and he was entirely callous about it. You like the sherry?”
“It’s excellent,” said Terry of the untutored palate.
“You are a slow drinker. I’m sure you won’t mind if I have another.” He turned back to the decanter, looked covertly at his watch. “I have ordered lunch for one o’clock. It is now almost twelve forty-five.”
Was he so hungry that he was counting the minutes till he should start stoking? Terry wondered. She wouldn’t mind betting that he had had a man-size breakfast and a snack at eleven. Perhaps a bachelor always had to encourage a vice of some sort, but Mr. Bretherton’s must be rather an exhausting one. It was only when he again consulted his watch that a sharp suspicion entered her mind, and simultaneously there came a firm rapping at the outer door.
By the time Pete entered the room Terry had stiffened herself. She might have known! Mr. Bretherton just wasn’t the type to invite a lone young woman to lunch; he’d probably find such a meeting more of an ordeal than she would.
Pete looked at her keenly, taking in her fresh pink-and-whiteness; he squared his shoulders in the tropical suit.
“So we’re three to lunch,” he commented. “Your note didn’t mention that, Mr. Bretherton.”
“Didn’t it?” The old man looked innocent. “Dear, dear. I’m becoming most forgetful. Sherry, Pete?”
“No, thanks. Whisky and soda,” came the terse reply. Mr. Bretherton tut-tutted, but mixed the drink, then filled up his own glass. “Let us wish each a pleasant hour together. No tipping over the flowers on the dining table, Pete. And Miss ... er ... I would like to see you eat well and laugh often.”
Pete took down half his drink. He was standing head and shoulders above the little lawyer, and looked as if he were weighing up the situation from every angle.
“Did you suddenly crave company?” he asked abruptly. “Or are we here for a purpose?”
“Now, Pete! I’ve never known such a man for rushing everything. I like my discussions to be softened by wine and food. Let us finish our drinks and go into the dining room. My cook has prepared fish and a very fine stuffed shoulder of mutton, and I have promised myself that we shall celebrate with a bottle of champagne.”
“Celebrate what?” Pete demanded swiftly. “The mess we’re in?”
Mr. Bretherton threw out his gnarled hands. “I can see you will not permit me to do this gracefully, after we are mellowed by a good meal. Very well, I will tell you now.” Without any dramatics, he added, “You are free of each other, quite free.”
Terry went rigid, her eyes widened and darkened as she stared at the old man. “The ... annulment has already been granted?” she whispered.
“No,” he answered. “I am informed that there was no need to petition for an annulment. The powers granted to the headman at Vinan lasted three years, till the railway was completed, and after that they were rescinded. Here is the official letter.”
It was hardly out of Mr. Bretherton s pocket before Pete had taken it and whipped it open. In sharp tones he demanded, “How was it you didn’t learn this before? How could you possibly put us through all that agony when it was totally unnecessary? You call yourself a lawyer...”
“Come!” Mr. Bretherton gestured agitatedly. “I did my best for you—got in touch with a Malayan colleague. It was he who uncovered the fact that the headman at Vinan had received permission to marry people by a civil ceremony As you see, this letter has come from a government department who know all the facts. It is what you wanted, Pete—a complete negation of that marriage certificate which brought you through Vinan territory. I had you here today in order to tell you about it and finish the business in a friendly manner. It seemed fitting that Miss ... er Fremont should be here first, that I should allay her fears, if she had any, before you arrived. I assure you I gave the matter my most careful consideration...”
“When ,did you get this letter?” Pete broke in.
“This morning—at ten o’clock.”
“And you let me wait till now—when you could have sent it straight out to me!”
“I also had a duty to Miss Fremont.”
“I’d have gone straight to her with the letter. You must have known that!” Pete pulled himself up.
“I suppose in a country like this such a mix-up is possible. Thank God we now have official repudiation of that ceremony.” Terry said shakily, “How ... how dare that man pretend to marry us in the first place? It was unforgivable.”
Through his teeth, Pete said, “You know the answer to that one. He couldn’t let you through unmarried because the whole village knew about you and they’d never have trusted him after that, if he had; when he told his people that the emergency powers permitted him to marry us, they believed him. He had the book of rules right there, and some old certificates.” He gave an angry sigh. “If you remember, he did advise us to marry again, according to our own religion.”
“How could he think we would?” she said hollowly. “We were strangers.”
“They don’t have our slant on marriage.” He paused, said distinctly, “You’re free, Teresa, and there’s nothing to confess to anyone because you were never bound.”
She nodded. “I feel almost sick with the relief. I’m afraid I ... I can’t stay to lunch, Mr. Bretherton.”
Pete moved quickly, placed himself between Terry and the door. “I’m not staying, either. You and I have things to talk over.”
She looked away. “We haven’t a single thing to discuss. Let me go.”
“Pete,” said Mr. Bretherton testily, “you will not endear yourself to the young woman by...”
“From now on,” said Pete in clipped tones, “you stick to company law. I know this wasn’t your fault, but I don’t want any more of your private advice. I’ve been through enough legal bungling during the past few weeks to last me for ever!” He opened the door. “Come along, Teresa!”
Her chin went up. Pale but bright-eyed she said, “This is the end of your dictating to me. I want nothing more to do with you.
She fled past him, out of the house and down the path, slipped into the small car and turned on the ignition. But she had no sooner left the shade of the palms than the big car was following, right on her tail. Well, let him follow. Bill and Vida would be having a drink in the veranda; they’d take care of Pete Sternham!
Her whole body trembled as she drove back to the Winchesters’. Free, her blood sang; free, free! Yet there was bitterness in the knowledge, and a sudden vast emptiness. Where the hateful bond had been there was nothing, And the bond had only been hateful because...
She swerved to avoid a boy carrying chickens in a reed cage, accelerated to take the hill. She came to a halt beside the house, had hardly reached the veranda before Pete was there, ignoring the Winchesters and grabbing her arm.
Terry turned on him. “I can’t stand any more! You’re hurting.”
Bill’s slow astonishment found voice. “What’s going on? I thought Terry had gone out to lunch with old Bretherton.”
“I’m taking her home to lunch with me,” said Pete bluntly.
Terry wrenched her arm from his grasp, and flared at him, “You’ve no right to pester me now, and we’ve nothing to say to each other.”
His jaw taut, he said, “Afraid of being alone with me? All right, I’ll ask you in front of the others. Will you marry me?”
Her blue eyes dilated, she took a long shivering breath, turned away and went straight to her bedroom. Vida Winchester’s smiling amazement was palpable.
“Pete, did you mean that—or is it some joke between you?”
“I’m not in a humorous mood,” he answered. “Whic
h is her bedroom?”
“The second on the right in the corridor.”
Terry was sitting sideways on the bed with her face in the pillow when he came in, and she did not look up.. He came beside her, lowered himself to sit, but did not touch her.
Quietly he said, “I know how you’re feeling and I ought to leave you alone for a bit, to get used to it all. But I can’t postpone a thing that means so much. We’re free, Teresa.”
She swallowed, and spoke wearily, without lifting her head. “And we’re free in the best possible way; we’ve discovered we were never tied. We don’t have to wait for an annulment, and then try to forget the whole thing. It was just a bad dream.”
“That’s right.” His voice was trying hard to keep itself level and soothing. “Cast your mind back a bit. We didn’t for a moment believe the marriage was real when we came along the river, did we? And in spite of being a little too conscious of each other, we enjoyed it. You did too, Teresa, so don’t shake your head. Have you ever thought of what might have happened if, the first time I met Bretherton, he’d told me flatly that the certificate was worthless, and destroyed it? You and I would probably have celebrated, I might have kissed you gently, simply because I wanted to, and we’d have gone on from there. Only we’d have been different from other couples because we’d come close right at the start, through being alone together and sharing dangers.”
“But it wasn’t like that,” she said, muffled. “It was ... unbearable.”
“And do you know why? Because, really, we wanted each other. You didn’t want to have to pretend to be attracted by Roger Payn, and I certainly didn’t enjoy having Astrid Harmsen rammed at me from every side. In a way, we did that for each other. Even if the certificate had been legal we couldn’t possibly have accepted marriage on those terms. We had to choose freely, and I don’t mind admitting I was on the point of going to the authorities in Kuala Lumpur myself! I wanted you so badly—but not on terms dictated by the headman of Vinan. The very idea of being forced into a marriage and calmly accepting it was out of the question. You must see that, Teresa.”
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