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

  Sophie’s heart raced as if she had scaled the mountain; she gulped for breath, forcing back tears. Shortly afterwards, the path plateaued and they stopped for tiffin, the cooks frying up fritters and boiling tea.

  Sophie could hardly speak, she was still so shaken by how close to death she had come – how close Rafi had too.

  Bracknall put on a show of concern, forcing a whisky flask under her nose that made her retch.

  ‘Have a swig – make you feel better. You look grey as putty.’

  Tam came over. ‘What happened, lassie?’

  ‘Her pony got frisky,’ Bracknall said. ‘I think Khan fussing made it worse. Nearly took them both over.’

  ‘Rafi?’ Tam turned and glared. ‘Did you put my wife’s life in danger?’

  Rafi looked furious, but Sophie could tell he was not going to defend himself.

  She pushed Bracknall’s flask away and faced Tam. ‘That couldn’t be further from the truth,’ she said hotly. ‘Rafi saved my life back there – and risked his own to do it.’ She turned to Rafi. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’

  Abruptly, she burst into tears of relief. Tam hesitated, then awkwardly went over to pat her shoulder.

  Chapter 32

  At the end of a week, they came across two engineers surveying the mountainside for a possible road over the high pass.

  ‘It’s Miss Logan, isn’t it?’ the junior engineer exclaimed as Sophie dismounted.

  She recognised the cheerful army captain, Cecil Roberts, from the voyage to India the previous year. They had helped organise the children’s deck games together.

  ‘Captain Roberts, fancy meeting you here!’ she smiled. ‘I’m Mrs Telfer now.’

  ‘Lucky Mr Telfer,’ he grinned.

  Tam stepped forward and introduced himself and the others. He was immediately interested in their work and what they could tell him about the way ahead.

  ‘Come and take a look at our survey maps,’ the older man named Ford offered. ‘They show all the peaks and ridges and the best places to cross the river courses.’

  ‘Splendid,’ cried Tam. ‘We can use them as a basis for our forestry mapping, can’t we Sir?’ He looked to Bracknall for approval.

  His boss had already flopped onto the engineers’ most comfortable camp chair. ‘Yes, yes,’ he answered with a dismissive wave. ‘We’ll set up camp here. I’ve had quite enough of being in the saddle. Looks like you sappers have found the best spot, eh?’

  While the servants set up camp, collected firewood and water, Tam and Rafi went off to a forest village the engineers had discovered, to help buy milk, flour and a sheep for slaughter.

  ‘Listen Khan,’ Tam said bashfully, ‘I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day. I didn’t really think you’d put Sophie’s life at risk. It’s just Bracknall made the accusation and I had to challenge you. I blame myself for not being there to protect her.’

  Rafi eyed his friend, wondering if there was more troubling him than the incident on the cliff edge. He looked harrowed and emaciated, yet he still drove himself relentlessly, his enthusiasm for work undimmed.

  ‘No offence taken,’ Rafi said, putting a hand on Tam’s shoulder. ‘But you shouldn’t believe everything Bracknall says. It seems to me he is taking an unhealthy interest in Sophie.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Tam asked sharply.

  ‘Open your eyes Telfer! He never lets her alone.’

  ‘He just likes female company,’ Tam retorted.

  ‘He has a bad reputation.’

  ‘The Chief would never do anything dishonourable – it’s just your over-active mind, Khan.’ Tam gave him a hard look. ‘It’s high time you got yourself a wife and stopped fussing over mine.’

  Rafi reddened. ‘Well, you’ll be pleased to hear my parents have found me someone suitable,’ he gave a wry smile. ‘Sultana Sarfraz, a banker’s daughter.’

  Tam was immediately conciliatory, clapping Rafi on the back. ‘Congratulations, Khan! That is good news. It’ll help you get on in the Service. The Chief likes his men to be married.’

  It’s the wives Bracknall likes, Rafi thought but didn’t say.

  By evening the tents and camp beds were erected, cooking fires lit and an evening meal of curried lamb prepared. They sat around a camp fire, Tam poring over maps with the engineers in the light of lamps hung in the trees.

  ‘Have you been onto the glacier?’ Tam asked eagerly.

  ‘I have,’ said the older engineer Ford. ‘Roberts here is dying to get up there and see his first snow leopard.’

  ‘Could you show us?’ Rafi joined in, excited at the thought. It might be his only chance of climbing in the Himalayas. Bracknall would probably banish him to the desert once they returned; the man did nothing to conceal his dislike of him now.

  ‘Be delighted to,’ Ford said. ‘We’re planning to push on up to the glacier in a couple of days. You won’t be able to take all this encampment with you – just what you and a porter or two can carry – it’s hard going. But it’s the best time of year to survey these parts.’

  ‘Worth taking our guns for a spot of game shooting?’ Tam asked.

  Ford nodded. ‘There’s musk deer and a particularly aggressive wild goat called Thar. But you’ll need guns to protect yourselves from bears and leopards.’

  ‘Well I shan’t be joining you,’ Bracknall grunted, helping himself to more of Ford’s whisky. ‘There’s plenty of game in these forests to keep me occupied while you scramble around on the ice. And I’ll look after Mrs Telfer, of course.’

  Rafi saw the alarm on Sophie’s face as it drained of colour.

  ‘That’s very good of you, Sir,’ Tam said, though he flashed Rafi a questioning look.

  No,’ Sophie said in panic, ‘I’m not staying here.’ She swallowed and forced a smile. ‘I mean I want to climb too. It’s such a golden opportunity.’

  ‘It’s not suitable for a woman,’ Bracknall laughed, ‘is it Ford? The girl would be a liability.’

  ‘Well,’ Ford sounded unsure, ‘it depends on your experience, Mrs Telfer.’

  ‘I’ve climbed in the Alps,’ Sophie said quickly. ‘And I’m quite capable of carrying my own pack. I won’t hold you up, I promise.’

  ‘What do you say, Telfer?’ Ford asked.

  Tam snorted. ‘My wife is like a mountain goat. If she wants to come, you’ll have the devil of a job stopping her.’

  ‘Then I’d be delighted to have you along, Mrs Telfer,’ Ford smiled.

  ‘Thank you,’ Sophie grinned. ‘Show me the route we’ll take.’ She joined the men leaning over the table to scrutinise the map.

  Only Rafi caught the thunderous look on Bracknall’s face, illuminated in the firelight. Sophie would not be forgiven for outwitting him – nor Tam for allowing Sophie to choose the climb instead of staying in camp with him.

  ***

  They took small tents just big enough for camp beds – Rafi loaded their packs onto his sure-footed Tibetan pony – and hammered nails into their shooting boots for grip. Ford hired a shikari, a local guide, to take them up to the glacier; Sophie noticed how the local man travelled simply with a blanket, kettle and grass shoes that didn’t slip on rock.

  They left at dawn as the early gleams of sun over the eastern hilltops were striking the white tents of the main camp and dew-covered spiders’ webs were glistening as the mist on the trees dissolved. Sophie was thankful that Bracknall was still snoring in his tent and hadn’t bothered to see them off. She tried to hide from Tam how sick she was feeling, forcing down a cup of sweet tea and a piece of dry chapatti to keep the nausea at bay. She didn’t want to think about the baby growing inside; it revolted her now to think it could be the hateful Bracknall’s. Nobody must ever suspect. She would lie about her due date and refuse to be seen by a doctor.

  ‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ Tam asked, giving her an anxious glance. ‘You seem a bit out of sorts, lassie.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Sophie smiled, swallowing down the bile in her th
roat.

  The guide moved noiselessly on the steep paths without dislodging stones onto those who followed; Sophie tried to imitate his steady pace. They climbed steeply all morning before stopping for a late breakfast on a narrow terrace. Cecil Roberts got out his binoculars and scanned the slopes below.

  ‘Good Lord! Look at that! A black bear.’

  He passed the glasses to Sophie. She gasped in excitement at the ambling creature, moving with surprising speed like a mechanical toy.

  ‘It’s about five thousand feet below us,’ Ford said. ‘You feel like an eagle up here, don’t you?’

  They pressed on towards the amphitheatre of snowy peaks, sweating under a fierce sun. Sophie found it increasingly difficult to breathe in the rarefied atmosphere.

  ‘The mountain tops look close enough to touch,’ she panted, as they stopped mid-afternoon for a meal of cold fowl and vegetable samosas.

  ‘They’re actually about twelve miles away – all over twenty thousand feet,’ said Ford. ‘But we’re aiming for the glacier at fifteen thousand.’

  ‘What’s that roaring noise?’ Sophie asked in concern. ‘It’s not a thunderstorm on its way, is it?’

  Rafi had a quick exchange with the guide. ‘He says it’s an avalanche echoing across the mountain,’ he said in excitement. ‘Must be getting near the glacier.’

  ‘You sound like you’re enjoying the thought of danger ahead,’ Sophie snorted.

  ‘I’m enjoying it all,’ he grinned. ‘And the shikari says we must watch out for falls of rock on the way up too.’

  That night they camped in the shelter of juniper trees on a grassy slope on the edge of the snowline. Sophie shivered on her narrow canvas bed unable to get warm.

  ‘Tam, can I climb in with you?’ she whispered.

  ‘No room,’ he answered drowsily and was soon asleep.

  She lay awake agonising about her situation. The idea of carrying Bracknall’s child made her physically sick. How could she get rid of it? Perhaps if she had a fall on the rock that would do it? She really had no idea. There had been a nurse at the Red Cross depot during the War who had got rid of an unwanted baby before her fiancé returned from the Navy. She had gone to see someone. But that was in Edinburgh. Here, Sophie had no one to turn to. She was utterly alone with her problem. Better to throw herself off a high ledge than to go through months of mental torture and a lifetime of being shackled to Bracknall’s baby having to pretend it was Tam’s. She would never be able to love it for she would always remember the hateful night of its conception and the burning shame of what she had done.

  The servants put the kettle on with the morning star. Sophie was exhausted from lack of sleep but thankful to see the dawn. Sunlight pushed away the dark thoughts of the night. Warming her hands on a bowl of tea, she took a sip which made her want to retch. She dashed behind a stunted fir tree and vomited.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t feel more wretched, a swift movement caught her eye. She looked up to see a snow fox padding by. It paused briefly to sniff the air and stare at her, tail stiff, ears alert.

  ‘Good morning,’ Sophie smiled and pressed her hands together in greeting.

  The fox flicked its tail as if in response and then darted away down a rocky ravine.

  ‘Who are you talking to?’

  Sophie swung round. A figure stepped out of the shadows, pulling on a cigarette. Rafi. Her heart squeezed. It was almost unbearable to be with him at such close quarters and yet not to be able to touch him and tell him how she felt. Yet the thought of the trip finishing and not being able to see him every day was even worse.

  ‘I was saying hello to a fox,’ she smiled.

  ‘Lucky fox,’ Rafi murmured, blowing smoke. He walked up to her and bent to pick up the discarded tea bowl. ‘Are you okay?’

  Sophie grimaced. ‘I’ve felt better. Last night’s meal disagreed with me. I’ll be fine once we get going again.’

  She was unnerved by his scrutinising look. She couldn’t bear him to guess her predicament. Grabbing the bowl from him, she muttered about getting ready and hurried away.

  That day, they left the belt of juniper and birch where a base camp of tents and Rafi’s pony were left with the cook and two other servants to prepare the evening meal. With rifles for a day of hunting, they followed the tracks of the stocky shaggy black goats, that the locals called Thar, up the grassy slopes. Soon they were scrambling across slippery rock polished by the elements, with huge precipices dropping away into the void. Ford used two walking sticks made out of bamboo to take the strain and Roberts took off his boots and edged across in stocking feet. To Sophie’s amusement, the local hillsmen hired to carry their packs, walked nimbly in bare feet behind the guide who was following the droppings of the elusive Thar.

  ‘They must be hiding in caves or behind the larger rocks,’ Ford panted, as the guide led them onto the glacier. They soon picked up tracks in freshly fallen snow which disappeared up a chimney-like ravine that seemed to lead straight into a wall of rock.

  The guide began to pull himself up from boulder to boulder and beckoned the others to follow. Sophie looked aghast at where they were heading; it didn’t seem humanly possible to scale such a vertical face of rock.

  ‘If you want to go back, I’ll take you,’ Cecil Roberts said. He looked sweaty and anxious.

  Heart pumping, she took a deep breath and shook her head. ‘I want to go on, thanks.’

  With Tam giving her a helping hand, Sophie made it quickly up the narrow gorge. They emerged breathless onto a grassy plateau surrounded by a jagged ridge. A flock of stone coloured ewes and their kids were grazing peacefully. In a nervous rush, Cecil raised his rifle and fired at a fat young buck. The report rang around like a thunderclap. The Thar moved as one, fleeing across the plateau and up the crag, defying the law of gravity in their escape.

  ‘Idiot!’ Tam barked.

  ‘Sorry,’ Cecil flushed.

  ‘At least we know where they’ve gone,’ Sophie gave a reassuring look and pointed upwards. ‘There’s obviously a cave up there.’

  Cecil gave her a grateful glance and pushed his binoculars at Tam. ‘She’s right. Here, have a look.’

  ‘We can track them later after we’ve had something to eat,’ Ford suggested.

  As they ate a picnic of egg sandwiches and boiled up water for tea, Ford plunged a thermometer into the boiling water.

  ‘Look; water’s boiling at 182 degrees instead of the usual 212 degrees; that’s thirty degrees difference. If you estimate about five hundred feet to each of those thirty degrees, it means we’ve reached about fifteen thousand feet in altitude.’

  ‘That’s clever,’ Sophie said.

  ‘Saves carrying bulky measuring equipment which could cause injury on these crags,’ Ford smiled. ‘Old surveying trick.’

  The sun edged round and their grassy shelf grew hot. Rafi, taking his pack and rifle with him, went off to explore with the guide. The other men were keen to stalk the wild Thar.

  ‘I’ll stay here,’ Sophie said, tired now from lack of sleep and the strenuous climb.

  ‘Do you want me to stay behind?’ Tam asked. She was grateful that he offered but knew he was desperate to follow the chase.

  ‘I’ll be fine with the servants,’ she assured.

  They scrambled off in the direction of the Thar caves and were soon out of sight. Sophie was just dozing off when Rafi returned.

  ‘The shikari has found the spoor of a snow leopard,’ he cried, ‘come and see.’

  He grinned like an excitable boy and waved her over. Sophie quickly pulled on her walking boots and got to her feet, her weariness evaporating. She followed Rafi onto the narrow footpath chiselled out of the rock by years of passing Thar, but ten minutes out on the rockface, she was suddenly overwhelmed by the precipitous view. Fifteen thousand feet up in the sky. The river and its streams looked like shiny threads on a map. Her head began to spin. Her lungs tried to suck in air but she couldn’t breathe. It was then that she
heard an ominous rumble shake the stillness. Sophie knew now that the sound was that of melting snow on the move. They were half way across to the next overhang of rock and grassy slope – a few hundred yards – but it might just as well have been a hundred miles as she knew she could not reach it. Neither could she move backwards.

  ‘Where’s the guide?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘He’s climbed up to tell the others about the leopard.’ Rafi cast a glance over his shoulder and stopped short at the sight of her face tight with fear. ‘It’s not far.’

  Sophie felt sweat breaking out on her face; she clawed at the rock and screwed her eyes shut. If she looked at the drop, she knew she would not be able to resist stepping off the ledge. It pulled at her like a magnet.

  ‘I-I can’t move,’ she hissed.

  Rafi, slung his rifle over his shoulder and backtracked till he was beside her. He held out his hand.

  ‘Here, hold onto me.’ His broad smile of encouragement made her feel brave. She grabbed at his hand and held on tight.

  Together they edged along the cliff face until it broadened out into a deep gulley. They crossed over a stream that bubbled out of the rock. To Sophie’s dismay, Rafi pulled his hand away and crouched down to drink.

  ‘It’s safe to drink this,’ he said, scooping handfuls and slurping it thirstily then splashing it over his face and hair. ‘It’s the melted ice that you have to avoid – too full of impurities.’

  He flicked water playfully at Sophie. She gasped in shock.

  ‘That’s freezing!’ she squealed. She lunged forward and splashed him back. Rafi laughed and held up his hands in surrender. In those few moments, Sophie lost her fear of the mountain and shuddered to think how close she had come to hurling herself off it.

  Rafi led the way under the rocky overhang, past a clump of junipers and dwarf pines springing out of thin soil. The afternoon sun shone in their faces, making them squint and shade their eyes in the glare. Around them the sound of ice cracking and water trickling, filled the silence.