Butterfly Island

by Corina Bomann

  “Have I called at an inconvenient moment?”

  “No, no, don’t worry. I’m glad you’ve called. So you got my message?”

  “Yes, and I thought you sounded in such a hurry that you must have some sensational news for me.”

  “Not exactly. I photographed everything in detail and took some samples for the age analysis. We won’t get the results for a few weeks.”

  That disappointed Diana a little, but it wasn’t as if she needed to hang around doing nothing while they waited. “But I can have it back in the meantime, can’t I? I’ve just booked a trip to Sri Lanka. I’m off next week.”

  “Well! Are you going on holiday, or do you intend to look for the library?”

  “Yes, that’s one thing. I also want to find out a bit more about my family. I think Ceylon played an important part in their history.”

  “Where exactly are you going?” Michael asked. Diana could hear him rummaging through some papers in the background.

  “To Colombo. The subject of that old travel guide I found. You remember?”

  “Ah! Here it is!”

  “Here what is?”

  “The business card I was looking for. I’ll give it to you when you call. You can come as soon as you like as far as I’m concerned. I’m sure you’ll be busy preparing for your trip.”

  “I don’t need a whole week for that! But I do have to show my face in the office. So you have a business card for me? Whose?”

  “I’ve got a friend in Colombo, Jonathan Singh. I was going to suggest you contact him anyway, but if you’re going there you absolutely must look him up. Not only will he make sure you don’t get into difficulty in Sri Lanka, but you can also make the most of his talents as a guide and source of information.”

  Diana hesitated. “I don’t know. Are you sure he won’t mind?”

  “We’re old friends, and he owes me one. If I ask him, I’m sure he’ll make time for you.”

  “Is he an academic, too? Where’s he from? Jonathan doesn’t sound like a typical Indian name.”

  “He’s half English and half Tamil. He used to work for the National Museum of Sri Lanka. He went freelance a while ago and now writes books. His works are quite well known in his home country, and I’m in the process of trying to persuade him to help me with a publication for our museum. He’s very knowledgeable about the history of Sri Lanka and the country’s customs. If anyone can help you, he can.”

  “But I don’t want you to waste the favour he owes on my account.”

  Even down the telephone, Diana could sense that Michael was smiling.

  “No problem. He’d be more likely to be angry with me if I sent a friend to his country without telling him. The Sri Lankans are very helpful, you know, and Jonathan’s a really nice guy.”

  “OK, then. Tell him and let me have his address. Oh yes, and when should I come and fetch the leaf?”

  Tremayne House, 2008

  After Mr. Green had finished his gardening, gone back into the house, and sat down at his computer, he found an email from Miss Diana.

  Dear Mr. Green,

  I hope everything is OK with you. I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be travelling to Sri Lanka in a week’s time. Over the past few days I’ve made a few discoveries that mean I have no choice but to travel there, to the country where my ancestor must have gone with his family. I’m going to be meeting an academic there who has been recommended by a friend of mine, so you don’t need to worry. If you need to get in touch with me, you can do so online at any time; I’ll have my laptop with me and I’ll check my email regularly.

  I imagine I’ll have plenty to tell you when I get back.

  Kind regards,

  Diana

  The butler smiled.

  He got up, then went over to the cupboard, opened the top drawer, and took out a little package wrapped in brown paper. It had been lying around in there for quite some time. Now, its time had come.

  The next clue, Mr. Green thought as he put on his coat and stowed the package in his pocket. He would have to send it by priority mail. He climbed into the Bentley and drove towards town.

  13

  Colombo/Vannattuppūcci, 1887

  After three more days in Colombo, Henry Tremayne received the news that the workmen had finished and the house was ready for the family.

  “At last.” Claudia sighed in relief, pressing the letter to her lace-bedecked breast. “I thought we’d have to stay in this hotel forever.”

  “It’s not so bad here, darling,” Henry said, although his face also revealed his own relief at finally being able to move to the plantation. “Our every need is catered for, and we enjoy wonderful views out to sea.”

  “Looking at steamers shrouding the harbour in black smoke,” Claudia said. “And hordes of traders swarming over anyone in European clothing.”

  Henry laughed. “Once we’re in Vannattuppūcci all you’ll see is tea. And palm trees.”

  “Don’t forget the mountain, to remind me of my beloved Scottish Highlands.”

  Henry came up to her, took her hands, and kissed her. “I know how much you miss your homeland. But I’ll do all I can to make sure you soon feel at home here.”

  “Couldn’t you put the plantation in the hands of a manager? This Mr. Cahill seems very capable from all you’ve told me.”

  “A place like this needs to be overseen by its owner. Mr. Cahill himself made that clear to me. Since Richard’s been gone, the place has gradually sunk into chaos. The tea pickers and other workers need someone in charge of them.”

  Claudia lowered her head with another sigh. Henry took her in his arms.

  “In any case, Vannattuppūcci is our great opportunity. You know how things were in England. If it all goes well, as I hope it will, we’ll be able to renovate our country house as well as keep your castle in the Highlands. Maybe one day we will find a suitable foreman who can take over the management of the plantation. But for now, since Richard is dead, someone has to bring order to the chaos.”

  Grace and Victoria were poring over a rough gemstone which Victoria had bought at Sylvie’s in Chatham Street. Although their mother had forbidden them from walking out alone ever since their adventure in the palm-leaf library, she had allowed her daughters to accompany her on shopping trips—on the condition, of course, that they didn’t stray more than three paces from her side.

  Unlike the traders who lay in wait for foreign visitors at the harbour, the shops were considered to be reputable. Grace hadn’t bought anything. In her eyes, these gemstones were a pure waste of money, and maybe even a swindle, but the colourful lights that reminded her of a wildflower meadow and the scent of the incense sticks had caused her to forget her annoyance for a moment.

  “I’m sure it’s a sapphire,” Victoria said as she turned the uncut, deep-blue stone in her hand. “It only needs cutting and polishing, then I’ll have a jewel unlike anything that’s ever been seen in any English lady’s jewellery case.”

  “A jewel for ten rupees? Don’t you think that’s a bit cheap?”

  Grace took the stone from Victoria’s hand and examined it herself. It was the right colour for a sapphire, but she couldn’t imagine that even these people would sell such a large, valuable stone for such a low price. Certainly not in this corner of the world. The dealers had seemed very business-minded to her, and ten rupees was probably excessive for the trinket they had palmed off on her sister.

  “As if you know anything about gemstones!” Victoria huffed, determined not to let her sister pour cold water on her pleasure at her find. “Anyway, I’ve read you the description of this place as the land of precious stones. They say they grow on trees here!”

  “That’s a long way from believing that they’re all valuable pieces. I’m sure you’ve learned from Mr. Norris that there are also such things as semiprecious stones.”

  It was no secret that Victoria’s private tutor, who would also be arriving here in a few days, had a weakness for mineralogy.
/>   “You’ll have to show him this lump of rock.” Grace laid the stone back in her sister’s hands.

  “Lump of rock?” Victoria cried. “This could be worth more than everything on Father’s plantation put together! This stone, my dearest sister, could make me into one of the best catches in the whole of England!”

  “Don’t you think that stones like this would be used to adorn the crown of our queen if they were genuine?”

  “Who says they export all the biggest stones? The gemstone miners here could well put some aside to sell to visitors from all over the world.”

  “For ten rupees?”

  The argument was stopped by the door to their room opening.

  “Miss Giles!” Grace cried in amazement, as Victoria’s governess was completely out of breath, pressing her hand to her impossibly tightly laced corset. “What’s happened?”

  “The time has come at last!” she gasped as though she had just sprinted from bottom to top of the staircase of the Grand Oriental Hotel. In reality, the governess was still overcome by the heat, seemingly unable to adjust to it. “Your mother has just informed me that we’ll be departing soon. You should prepare your hand luggage. I’ll take care of your clothes.”

  She bustled over to the chaise longue, where the sisters’ dressing gowns and afternoon dresses were draped. As ever when she was in a hurry, she forgot herself, humming a song under her breath to goad herself into action.

  “If she keeps lacing herself in so tightly, she’ll keel over before long,” Victoria took the opportunity to whisper disrespectfully to Grace. The older girl put her hand to her mouth to conceal a broad grin. She always thought the same thing when she looked at Miss Giles. In England she managed fine with the corset, but the climate here was completely different, making breathing more difficult even without tight lacing.

  “We all know why she does it,” she whispered back. “She wants to look her best for Mr. Norris.”

  “But if she carries on like that she’s likely to die of lung failure before he’s set foot on the island.”

  The two girls snorted with laughter, and Miss Giles turned to them with a disapproving look.

  “I don’t need to tell you that your mother will be very annoyed if you’re not ready in time.”

  “Yes, Miss Giles,” the sisters chorused, and after Victoria nudged Grace with her elbow, they set to work.

  An hour later all the cases were stowed in the carriage. The heavy pieces of furniture had already been delivered to Vannattuppūcci. The private tutor and a few servants, whom Mrs. Tremayne felt she couldn’t live without, would be following in a few days.

  “If you ask me, I’m not too thrilled by the idea of starting my lessons again,” Victoria whispered to Grace once they had taken their places in the open carriage, with parasols for their only shade. “Maybe Mr. Norris has been swallowed up by a sea monster during the voyage.”

  “Just be glad that Father isn’t of the opinion that education is damaging for a young lady. Otherwise you wouldn’t know half as much about the scandalous painters of the Middle Ages or be able to read your precious adventure stories that Miss Giles is so keen to confiscate.”

  Grace glanced at the governess, who was hovering in the background as if waiting for instructions from her mistress.

  “Anyway our dear governess would be devastated if Mr. Norris didn’t arrive. Just look how she keeps craning her neck towards the harbour.”

  “She’s hardly likely to see him from here,” Victoria said cheerfully. “But even if he doesn’t come, surely there are enough men here. Have you seen those harbour workers with their golden-brown skin? I’m telling you, some of them could even be the talk of the ladies in London.”

  “You shouldn’t be interested in things like that!” Grace replied, feigning indignation.

  “Why ever not? In earlier times I’d be of marriageable age already. Some families still marry off their daughters young.”

  These words brought Grace back to her wistful thoughts of the season in London. I’ll probably end my days as an old maid out here, she thought. All the interesting young men in England will be spoken for by the time I set foot there again.

  Victoria seemed to notice her gloomy mood, as she laid a hand gently on her arm. “Don’t worry, I certainly won’t marry before you. Cheer up—we’ve got our adventure to look forward to. I can’t wait to see the animals in the jungle. Maybe I’ll be able to persuade Mr. Norris to forget about his dead old stones for a while and take an interest in living things.”

  No sooner had she spoken the words than Miss Giles came to join them. She was lost in reverie and looked a little worried.

  “Grace, did you know that mail ships usually dock at night?” Victoria had brought out her little guidebook and gave Grace a conspiratorial wink as she spoke.

  “No. Where did you get that from?”

  “It says so in the travel guide. I’m sure Mr. Norris will be arriving on one of those ships.”

  Victoria peered at Miss Giles out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t react. Grace, looking more openly, perceived a wistful air about the governess, who usually displayed such outward self-control.

  Would I be gazing so longingly out to sea, too, if my beloved was on the other side of the ocean and I didn’t know whether he’d arrive safely? she wondered as the carriage began to move.

  They reached the plantation the following afternoon, after breaking their journey overnight at a small village inn recommended to them by Mr. Cahill. The mountain against the clear blue sky formed a magnificent setting, blanketed in green and scattered with dark and light patches. The lower slopes were covered with the rich green tea plantations, punctuated by lone palm trees and unidentified shrubs.

  The rattling of the carriage and clattering of the horses’ hooves seemed foreign in this landscape. Grace looked up at the palm trees moving above their heads and thought she could see a flash of coloured feathers.

  “They’re parrots,” said Victoria. “Maybe I should catch one for Mama’s drawing room.”

  “How do you intend to do that?” Grace asked, craning her neck in the hope that one of the birds would come nearer. She had seen a parrot before in Mrs. Roswell’s drawing room in London. But that one had been an ancient, mangy creature with a habit of rubbing its head against the bars of the cage and constantly emitting strange noises which, according to Mrs. Roswell, proved it could talk.

  The birds above her communicated in their natural language, which sounded so different from the noises that Polly, Mrs. Roswell’s parrot, had made.

  “Oh, look!” Victoria suddenly cried out, tugging at Grace’s sleeve. She was pointing to a bush, where a little monkey was sitting, closely watching the procession of coaches. It was grasping a branch with one hand, sucking the thumb of the other like a baby.

  “Do you think Mama would allow me to have one of those?”

  “I thought you were going to catch a parrot.”

  “I’ll do that first, just you wait. I’m sure they must like sugar cubes. I’ll leave some on my windowsill, and when they come to get them I’ll catch one with my butterfly net.”

  “You don’t have one.”

  “But I know how to make one!” Victoria argued. “Last year I saw the gardener’s son make one from a metal hoop, some netting, and a stick. I’m sure I can get hold of those things. And if not, I’ll ask one of the workers. There must be such a thing as a gardener here—just look at the estate!”

  Grace had to admit that the garden was really beautiful. As well as the frangipani bushes that were ubiquitous at these latitudes, there were also large numbers of rhododendrons that would have been the envy of any estate in Europe. The lawns were neatly cut like those of an English garden, and although she was no expert in botanical matters, Grace was dying to find out the name of the flaming-red flowers that adorned the beautifully laid out flower beds.

  The mansion, in the colonial style, looked like a pearl among all the greenery. It reminded Gra
ce a little of Tremayne House, except that the latter’s walls were darker and overgrown with ivy and there was no fountain in the middle of the drive. However, there were a number of outbuildings of various shapes and sizes.

  As well as the magnificent gardens, Grace’s eye was also caught by the people bustling about the grounds. Women carrying fully loaded baskets of tea on their heads vanished into sheds where they were relieved of their burdens. Their garments were very simple, but glowed with magnificent colours the like of which Grace had never seen before.

  The scent of tea and sweet flowers permeated the air—something London could not offer at this time of year except in the stuffy salons whose owners had a weakness for the exotic.

  The carriage came to a halt, and the family was reunited. Victoria got distracted by a beautiful tree with orange-red flowers, until Grace led her over to their parents, who were being lectured at by Mr. Cahill.

  “Before your brother came, someone had tried to cultivate coffee here.” The lawyer gave a self-satisfied smile. “With catastrophic results. The plants were struck by coffee leaf rust, leaving the previous owner with no choice but to sell up. Your brother decided to cultivate tea here, since the soil and climate are ideal for it.”

  “My brother really seems to have had his finger on the pulse of the times.” Henry Tremayne looked around in wonder. If the chaos Cahill described really had reigned, the workers and servants had done marvellous work.

  “Oh yes, your brother was admired by everyone here. Believe me, he will be sadly missed. But I’m sure you’re the best man to fill the gap he left behind.”

  When she was sure that Cahill couldn’t see her, Grace shook her head. She had never heard such pathetic prattle! Of course the man was talking for his life, or at least his livelihood, since now that her father was the master of Vannattuppūcci, he was free to appoint a new adviser if he chose to do so. But Grace knew her father well enough to be certain that he would keep Cahill in his service, provided he didn’t step out of line.

  Glancing towards the wonderful flowers of the bush that had caught her sister’s attention, Grace saw a tall, handsome man, who was shyly keeping himself apart as if waiting for someone to notice him. Although he was wearing English clothing, he had a foreign air. His dark-brown, almost black hair was a little longer than was usual, and his long, narrow face had a golden shimmer. His thick brows arched gracefully above a pair of amber eyes, and his neatly trimmed beard framed a pair of full lips.