THE PLANTER'S BRIDE: A story of intrigue and passion: sequel to THE TEA PLANTER'S DAUGHTER (India Tea Series Book 2)

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Sophie bit her lip, ‘I’m just desolate at the thought of you going and leaving me behind. I hoped you had brought me here for a special purpose. I love you Tam!’

  He looked startled by her declaration. She saw conflicting emotions cross his face. She steeled herself for words of disappointment; that they would write to each other and keep in touch.

  ‘You’d really do that for me?’ he asked. ‘Risk everything to follow me out to India?’

  ‘Of course I would.’

  He stared at her with vital blue eyes. ‘I can’t pretend it hasn’t crossed my mind,’ he confessed. ‘I’ve grown very fond of you, Sophie, these past weeks.’

  Her heart jumped. ‘Tam, what are you saying?’

  He stood and pulled her up beside him. ‘Why don’t we?’ he was seized by the idea. ‘There’s nothing for you here now is there? And together we could be a wonderful partnership. You can help me in my work and be at my side; you’re plucky and fun and full of spirit – just the sort of girl to thrive out there. It’s all a bit sudden but if not now when–?’

  ‘Yes Tam, yes!’ she interrupted. ‘Of course I’ll go with you.’

  ‘Oh lassie, that’s grand!’ He grabbed her in a hug. How hadn’t he seen the happy solution right under his nose? Sophie Logan was perfect for the life he had now chosen. Her lively optimism would banish all past disappointments. He would put the older, worldly-wise Nancy from his thoughts for good.

  ‘We won’t have time to marry before I leave,’ Tam was gripped with excitement as he made plans, ‘but you can follow me out – give me time to find my feet and get us a house. Bachelors live in digs but we’ll need a bungalow. We’ll be in Lahore to start off.’

  ‘Tam,’ Sophie put her hands to his face, ‘just kiss me!’

  She thrilled to see the excitement in his handsome face as he bent to kiss her roundly on the lips.

  They broke away; Sophie was exultant at her sudden change of fortune. ‘This makes me so happy. I hated the thought of you leaving me here all alone.’

  ‘Well, that’s not going to happen,’ Tam smiled.

  Shouldering his knapsack, he took her by the hand and led her back down the steep path. They lingered by Dunsapie Loch as it lay glinting in the bowl of the hill and kissed some more under the brightening moon.

  It was dark by the time they reached Clerk Street. By then they had discussed the possibility of Sophie sailing on the same ship as Tilly in November.

  ‘A tea planter’s wife, Mrs Percy-Barratt, is going to accompany her,’ Sophie said, ‘so that she isn’t travelling alone. And James’s cousin Wesley Robson and wife Clarrie are to be on the same boat too.’

  ‘That’s perfect then,’ Tam declared with a wink, ‘I’ll have my fiancée properly chaperoned. The journey out is notorious for illicit romance and snap marriages.’

  ‘Well I hope Boz will be chaperoning you then,’ Sophie replied.

  Tam felt a moment of disquiet at the mention of his friend; he would be astonished at the snap proposal. But then Boz had had his chance with Sophie and she had shown no interest in the tall farmer’s son.

  ‘I won’t look at any lassie under eighty-five,’ Tam teased, ‘or dance with anyone under ninety.’

  ‘I wish Auntie Amy was the one who would be coming out to see me married,’ Sophie grew tearful. ‘I miss her so much.’

  ‘I know,’ Tam said, kissing her hair. ‘Do you think she would have been pleased at our engagement?’

  Sophie hesitated only a moment; ‘I’m sure she would have been. All she wanted was to see me happy – and I am, Tam, very happy.’

  ***

  Sophie insisted on Tam breaking the news to Tilly there and then. Tilly clapped her hands and threw her arms around Sophie.

  ‘I knew it! I knew something special was happening. I’m so happy for you both. Congratulations,’ she shook Tam’s hand.

  He stood grinning. ‘Thank you. It means a lot to Sophie that you give it your blessing.’

  ‘You make me sound like an old maid,’ Tilly teased. ‘But if it’s blessings you want, then you have them by the score.’

  Sophie grabbed Tilly’s hand. ‘Will you be my matron of honour? We plan to marry in Lahore as soon as I arrive in December.’

  ‘I’d be delighted,’ Tilly beamed. ‘Mr Rob– er – James and I can come for a holiday over Christmas perhaps.’

  Tam said eagerly, ‘I’m going to see if I can get Sophie on the same passage out as you and the other Robsons. You could come straight to Lahore.’

  Tilly felt herself colouring; she wanted most of all to be reunited with James as soon as possible and get on with married life.

  ‘I’ll write to my husband and see what’s best.’

  ‘Good,’ Tam said. ‘I’m sure you girls can organise it between you.’

  ‘You’ll stay for a meal?’ Sophie urged.

  Tam shook his head. ‘I must go and break the news to Mother and Flora. They will have supper ready.’

  ‘A cup of tea at least?’ Tilly offered. ‘I’m afraid we’re out of lemonade.’

  ‘Oh,’ Sophie smiled, ‘you can’t have drunk the lot already?’

  ‘We had a visitor,’ Tilly explained, looking at Tam. ‘Your friend Mr Khan.’

  ‘Really?’ Tam frowned. ‘What did Rafi want?’

  ‘He was returning a book of Scottish ballads that Auntie Amy had given him. I said to keep it. Is that all right, Sophie?’

  Sophie felt herself colouring for no reason. ‘Of course it is. I have no need of it.’

  ‘That’s what I said,’ Tilly replied. ‘We had a long chat about books. He’s very good looking, isn’t he? Auntie Amy obviously liked him too; she’d had him round to tea on several occasions.’

  ‘Did she?’ Tam gave Sophie a curious look. ‘You didn’t tell me Rafi was a regular visitor.’

  ‘I didn’t know. He certainly didn’t come to see me.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Tilly said, detecting a sudden coolness, ‘it was always when Sophie was out. He has the impression Sophie doesn’t think much of him.’

  Sophie retorted, ‘I don’t have any opinion, one way of the other. I like him as one of your friends Tam, that’s all.’ She didn’t like his sudden frosty look or the uncomfortable twist in her stomach at talk of Rafi. ‘It was just Auntie Amy being kind to someone far from home.’

  Tam seemed mollified. ‘Of course.’ He took her hand and kissed it. ‘I’m a fool to be jealous. Think nothing of it.’

  ‘I think it’s sweet the way you’re so possessive over Sophie,’ Tilly teased. ‘I hope my husband is half so attentive.’

  ‘We had better not tell Mr Robson that you’ve been entertaining an Indian with lemonade and poetry then,’ Sophie joked, glad the tension had gone.

  Tam laughed. ‘So Rafi likes Scots ballads? Who would have thought it?’

  ***

  Tam and his fellow students, Boz, Rafi, McGinty and Jimmy Scott, sat their degree exams and all passed; Tam and Rafi were awarded honours while Jimmy scraped through. By the time they returned from Oxford, there was time for only one more night out at the Palais de Dance and an evening at Roseburn for a supper of fish pie and over-cooked cabbage.

  ‘You’ll come and see us, dearie,’ Flora insisted, ‘even with our Tam away. It’ll be awfu’ quiet without him.’

  Sophie promised she would, grateful for their friendship.

  This time Sophie insisted on seeing Tam off at the train station, even though there was no opportunity for a tender farewell. The other four graduates were there too and the platform teamed with tearful relations and porters loading the men’s luggage aboard. Flora and Mrs Telfer hovered around Tam until the final moment, showering him with advice on his health and spiritual well-being; Sophie thought he would leave without a kiss. But as the first whistle blew, Tam embraced his family and then turned to Sophie and pulled her into his arms.

  ‘I can only bear this be
cause I know I’ll be joining you in three months,’ Sophie said, tears spilling down her cheeks.

  Tam’s smile was tender as he brushed the tears away. ‘Don’t be sad lassie. The time will fly and then we never need be parted again.’

  Sophie thrilled at his words. ‘I can’t wait,’ she whispered. ‘I love you so much.’

  He bent and kissed her swiftly on the mouth as the carriage doors were being slammed closed.

  ‘Hey, Telfer!’ Boz shouted from the window. ‘You’ll miss the train.’

  ‘Aye,’ Jimmy called, ‘you would think you’d had no breakfast. Leave the lassie be.’

  Tam laughed and disengaged from Sophie’s arms. Flora gently pulled her away as she told her brother to hurry. ‘Take care of yourself, Tammy. You’ll always be in our prayers.’

  Sophie’s heart squeezed in pity. How many times had Tam’s sister and mother had to wave him away during the recent war, thinking it might be the last? And here they were, losing him again. It might be three or four years before he was given home leave. What did she have to feel sad about, compared to their sense of loss? Yet they were smiling and stoical and she admired them immensely.

  They all waved until their arms ached and the southbound train shrieked and squealed with gathering momentum and vanished out of the cavernous station.

  As it was still early, Sophie walked away uphill, too restless just to go home. She made her way to the King’s Park and climbed half way up Arthur’s Seat, gazing south down the railway line, even though Tam’s train had long gone. She would have given anything to have gone with him but Tam had been sensible by insisting that he must settle into his job first.

  ‘Don’t want to cause a scandal with the new bosses by having an unchaperoned fiancée in tow,’ he had been firm. ‘We’ll do this properly. When you come to live with me, it’ll be as Mrs Thomas Telfer.’

  Sophie blew a kiss in the direction of Tam’s train. She had opened her heart to love and it felt thrilling to be loved in return. For though Tam had never actually said the words ‘I love you’ – men like him never did – Sophie knew it to be true. He had been just as hasty as she was in wanting them to be husband and wife, hadn’t he?

  Chapter 14

  Since leaving Liverpool, the sea had been rough for days. Sophie found that sitting out on deck wrapped in a coat and fixing her eye on the grey outline of Portugal and then Gibraltar, was the only way to quell seasickness. She regretted having her hair cut so short in anticipation of living in the tropics; cold air blew down her neck. Tilly sat with her, attempting to read, but rounding Cape St Vincent in a headwind, her book was torn from her cold fingers and carried over the rail.

  ‘I give up,’ Tilly cried. ‘I’m going into hibernation. Tell me when the sun comes out.’

  But then Tilly was moody and queasy a lot these days. It was a surprise to both her and the family when the cause had been diagnosed a month ago; Tilly was expecting her first baby. It had been the subject of much discussion; Mona and Mrs Watson thought Tilly should stay in Scotland to give birth.

  ‘It’s not as safe out there with all the disease and lack of doctors,’ Mona had argued.

  But fortified by an ecstatic letter from James, Tilly had stood up to them and insisted on sticking to the plan of travelling out to be with her husband and have the baby born in India.

  ‘I know what’ll happen,’ Tilly had confided tearfully to Sophie, ‘they’ll fall in love with the baby and not want it out of their sight. Mona will take over. She’ll probably send me out to James babyless and insist she brings it up in Dunbar because it’s a healthier place.’

  Sophie had tried to reassure her that Mona would never do such a thing, but Tilly showed a new stubbornness and would not be swayed. It had meant that plans to be Sophie’s maid of honour were abandoned as the extra travelling to the Punjab would be too exhausting. James wanted her to travel directly to Assam, so Tilly was to stay on the boat all the way to Calcutta. Sophie had tried to hide her disappointment, but whatever she said seemed to upset her friend.

  ‘You can visit once the baby is born,’ Sophie had suggested.

  ‘But that’s ages away and anyhow I won’t be able to travel with a baby,’ Tilly had snapped.

  ‘Then I’ll come to you.’

  ‘I bet you won’t. It’s so very far and Tam won’t want you to leave him once you’re married.’

  ‘Just for a visit he will.’

  But Tilly had burst into tears. ‘I so wanted to be your maid of honour. I don’t want this baby.’

  ‘Yes you do,’ Sophie had hugged her, ‘and you’ll make a wonderful mother.’

  ‘I’ll be hopeless,’ Tilly had sobbed. ‘Mona is the one who should be a mother. The whole idea terrifies me.’

  Sophie wondered if pregnancy turned all women so emotional and contrary, or whether Tilly was secretly frightened of going so far from her family to be with a man she hardly knew. Well, they were on their way, so it was too late for doubts now, and Sophie was philosophical as she huddled inside a thick tweed coat that had belonged to Auntie Amy.

  The stormy weather dogged them through the Mediterranean; a dance and a concert organised by some of the passengers had to be cancelled as people became ill. Sophie hardly heard two words from Muriel Percy-Barratt who was sharing a cabin with her and Tilly. The older woman lay sickly and moaning, refusing to eat anything but water-biscuits. Sophie was thankful the ship, S.S. City of Baroda, was a modern one with spray baths but however much they washed themselves, the smell of vomit still permeated their cabin.

  Sophie relied on Clarrie Robson’s cheerful company and that of her engaging daughter Adela; though she remained a little in awe of the darkly handsome Wesley who smoked pungent cheroots and shaved on deck.

  ‘What a shame for you young girls about the dance,’ Clarrie said as she and Sophie clung to the rail with Adela clasped by the hands between them.

  ‘We’d fall around like skittles if we tried to dance on deck in this,’ Sophie joked.

  ‘It’ll improve soon,’ Clarrie said. ‘In a few days we’ll be crying out for cold weather. Just fill your lungs with fresh salty air while you can.’

  ‘Salty!’ Adela giggled, trying to jump while thrusting her face up to the spray.

  ‘You’re such a wee sailor,’ Sophie smiled at the girl and squeezed her hand. ‘Never been sick and no whingeing.’

  ‘‘Ophie lift me up!’

  ‘No pet,’ Clarrie kept a firm hold, ‘or you’ll be swimming to India.’

  Wesley came to find them. Sophie saw the tender look pass between him and Clarrie; they were so obviously still in love. It made her impatient to be with Tam. Wesley grabbed Adela and, ignoring Clarrie’s protests, swung his daughter into his arms and twirled around. Adela squealed with delight.

  ‘Just look at that beautiful sight,’ Wesley said. ‘The coast of Africa.’

  The land lay wreathed in a silvery mist.

  ‘It reminds me of Benderloch on the west coast of Scotland,’ Sophie gulped, feeling a sudden stab of homesickness. ‘Auntie Amy took me and Tilly on holiday there twice.’

  Her emotions see-sawed between deep loss for her Edinburgh home and excitement at going to start a new life with Tam. It was the little things that set her off; the taste of shortbread, the whistle of a Scots tune or mist hanging over the shoreline like now.

  Clarrie squeezed her arm. ‘It’s natural to feel a little blue. I missed Tyneside when I first came back to India after the war; then I missed India and Wesley as soon as I was in Newcastle again.’ She gave a rueful smile.

  Wesley said cheerily, ‘the journey will help you get in the right frame of mind. By the time the three weeks are over, you’ll be chomping at the bit to get onto Indian soil.’

  Sophie gave a weak laugh. ‘If the next two weeks are as stormy as the last eight days, I’ll never want to make the voyage home again.’

  With relief, they awoke the next day to a glimmer of sunshine as they sailed between the coast of T
unis and Gallina Island. Over the next couple of days, passengers began to emerge to chat, play deck tennis and dance before dinner. The biggest drawback to the improving weather, Sophie soon discovered, was the revival of Muriel Percy-Barratt. She was soon ordering the young women about and ticking them off for talking to men, no matter how old or married.

  ‘If anyone asks you to dance, you must decline,’ she commanded. ‘I don’t want to have to tell tales to James now do I, Tilly? And Sophie; it just isn’t seemly for a girl newly betrothed to be flirting with other men.’

  ‘If you mean talking to that retired Colonel Hogg from the Rajputs, he must be at least sixty,’ Sophie tried not to laugh, ‘and he’s chaperoned by his frightening wife. I don’t think my virtue’s in any danger.’

  ‘But his may be,’ snorted Tilly, her good humour returning.

  ‘It’s no laughing matter,’ Muriel scolded. ‘I’m here to ensure nothing improper takes place. You especially Sophie, should be aware that your carelessness could ruin your future husband’s career in the service of India before it’s even started. Gossip spreads faster than fever over there.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it,’ Sophie muttered, rolling her eyes at Tilly. She imagined Muriel was the burra memsahib of gossips. But later, Tilly asked her cousin not to antagonise their chaperone or to call her Percy-Battle-axe behind her back in case she overheard.

  ‘It’s all right for you – you’re escaping at Bombay – I’ve got the Percy-Barratts as my neighbours forever more.’

  So for the most part, Sophie sat demurely like Tilly and listened to the advice doled out by the older women like Muriel who were returning from settling their children into schools in Britain. Schooling was a constant topic of conversation.