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 ran a bath – such a luxury after months in the jungle – and tried to wash away her unhappy thoughts in the steamy water. Feeling too sick to eat anything, she crawled under the covers and fell asleep.

  Chapter 39

  Sophie woke with a start. Someone was crashing through the door. It was flung open and Tam lurched in. Electric light flooded the room. Sophie was blinded.

  ‘What time is it?’ she asked groggily.

  ‘Didn’t get it,’ Tam shouted, ‘didn’t get the bloody job!’

  ‘Tam?’ Sophie sat up; she had been dreaming of eating snow.

  Tam limped around the room, ripping off his bow tie. ‘Ruddy Jimmy Scott is Bracknall’s new assistant.’

  ‘No,’ Sophie cried. ‘I don’t believe it. He promised you.’

  ‘Gentleman’s agreement he said,’ Tam spat out the words. ‘Shook hands on it at the Lodge meeting.’

  Sophie forced herself up and out of bed. ‘Oh, Tam, I’m so sorry.’ She held out her arms.

  But he advanced on her, his face livid. She could smell sour liquor on his breath. ‘Humiliated me in front of the others – and all because of you.’

  ‘Me?’ Dread clawed at her insides. Surely the poisonous Bracknall would not have said anything about that night in Changa Manga? He had too much position to lose.

  ‘You and Khan,’ Tam accused. ‘Told me that I should keep my head down for a year or two until something else came up. Best thing was to get you in the family way – show you your place – stop you getting so friendly with the natives.’

  ‘That man disgusts me,’ Sophie said. ‘Rafi was our friend. You’ve known him for years.’

  ‘I’m not sure I did know him,’ Tam cried. ‘He was always after you, wasn’t he? Always sniffing round like a dog on heat.’

  ‘Stop it Tam. That’s Bracknall talking.’

  ‘What did you do to upset the chief? You should have shown him more respect. That’s all I asked of you, woman, to help me get on. Just a bit of loyalty and support.’ Spittle landed on her cheek. She wiped it away. Tam caught her hand. ‘Do you know what my punishment is? Instead of running things here like I should be, I’m being banished to Peshawar.’

  ‘The North West Frontier?’ Sophie gasped in dismay.

  ‘Bandit country,’ Tam railed. ‘A fine place to bring up my child, eh? My mother and sister won’t want to visit us there.’

  Sophie tried to calm him. ‘We’ll make the best of it. We’ve still got the baby to look forward to, haven’t we?’

  ‘And what colour will it be?’ Tam said venomously. ‘A half-caste?’

  ‘Don’t be so vile,’ she gasped.

  He gripped on hard. ‘Then look me in the eye and tell me you aren’t in love with Rafi Khan?’

  Sophie gulped. ‘Rafi’s married to someone else – and it’s you I chose Tam.’

  ‘That’s not an answer!’

  Her patience snapped. ‘And what about you and Nancy Bannerman? Are you still in love with her?’

  He gaped at her.

  ‘You’ve kept in touch with her right through our marriage Tam – piles of love letters I found in your office.’

  ‘You’ve been through my letters?’ he hissed. ‘You had no right.’

  ‘I’m your wife,’ Sophie blazed, ‘I have every right. I know you were in love with her – wanted to marry her but she wouldn’t have you. So why are you still writing to her?’

  ‘Because I’m still in love with her!’

  Sophie shrank back. ‘Then why did you marry me? You shouldn’t have led me on to think you loved me.’

  ‘I never told you I loved you. It was you who threw yourself at me! I thought we could make a go of it – wanted to love you – God I’ve tried hard enough. But you’re not Nancy – you’ll never be a patch on her.’

  He shoved her away from him. Sophie lost her footing, knocked against the sharp corner of a bedside table and fell to the floor.

  Tam fled the room, slamming the door. Sophie covered her face with trembling hands. She was too shocked to move; too numb to cry.

  She must have lain on the cold floor for twenty minutes before she dragged herself up. Tam had not returned. Filled with impotent rage at her situation, Sophie picked herself up, got dressed and went out into the night.

  ***

  Hailing a tonga, Sophie headed for the old city. The streets narrowed and closed in around her, still warm from the heat of the day. Some shops remained open; blanketed figures loomed out of the dark to stare at the passing memsahib. She knew it was reckless to try and find Rafi’s old house but she was drawn on by a need deep inside. He had stood up for her when her own husband had not; how she admired him for that! They had not even said goodbye to each other and she wanted to say how sorry she was and ask his forgiveness for her part in his sacking. She wanted to tell him about her terrible argument with Tam – and even if it was the last time she ever set eyes on him, she wanted Rafi to know how deeply she loved him. If they never found anyone else in their lives to love, they at least could be honest with each other and know that they had had a brief moment of pure joy on a Himalayan mountainside.

  As she drew near to the street with the jeweller’s, Sophie wondered if she would remember the way. Even if he was not there, perhaps someone could tell her what had become of him.

  The tonga driver, an elderly man, was finding it difficult to control his pony. The animal was skittish in the dark lanes. It suddenly struck Sophie how futile was her search. She would only embarrass Rafi if she did find him. How would he explain the eccentric Scotswoman rushing around after dark trying to find him? He was married now. He would be making a new life away from the Forest Service, cutting off the old world that had rejected him. She had to come to terms with never seeing him again, however devastating that was. She felt overwhelmingly alone.

  Sophie told the driver to turn around and take her back to Nedous Hotel. She would have to face Tam; try and salvage something from the destructive night. For the sake of the baby they would have to work out a way of living together.

  As the old man manoeuvred the nervous horse, she thought she got a glimpse of the house she had been looking for; a tall building of crumbling stucco and rusting ironwork.

  ‘Wait a minute!’ She half rose from the open carriage.

  At that moment, a boy dropped a brass tray which clattered to the ground right beside them. The pony jumped sideways knocking over a stall of hot food. It reared up and bolted, bumping the tonga over the scattering pots. Sophie was flung off the seat. She landed on her hip, hitting the hard earth with a jolt. Pain shot through her.

  At once people rushed to help her up. Further up the lane the old man was trying to control the pony with whips and curses. A local policeman was soon at the scene and pushing back the crowd that had gathered.

  ‘I will take you to hospital, Memsahib,’ he said.

  ‘No, please,’ Sophie groaned, ‘I’m all right. Just a bit shaken. I’d be very grateful if you could just take me to my hotel.’

  He helped her up. ‘You should not be out in the bazaar at this time,’ he admonished.

  ‘I know. I think we lost our way,’ Sophie mumbled.

  What an idiot she had been! By the time her rescuer delivered her to the doors of Nedous she was feeling terrible.

  ‘I will ask the hotel to call in a doctor,’ he said.

  ‘No please, I don’t want any fuss. You’ve been very kind. Thank you.’

  The chowkidar let her in.

  She took off her shoes and limped up to her room, every step jarring her right side from the hip to the ankle. Tam was still not back. She was too drained and sore to care where he might have gone. Stripping off in the bathroom, she saw with relief that there was only a slight graze on her hip. But she knew it would bruise.

  ***

  In the early hours, Sophie woke with a searing pain in her abdomen. She doubled up and cried out for Tam. He wasn’t there. Fear gripped her. What was happening? She felt wav
es of nausea rise up but worse was the red hot needles that stabbed at her side and belly. She lay trying to calm herself, breathing deeply. But the sharp pains spread down between her legs. It grew unbearable. She broke out in a sweat of panic.

  Crawling out of bed, she got as far as the bell-ring and rang for help.

  The youth who answered, turned on the light, took one look at her and dashed off shouting. Sophie looked down and saw with horror that her nightdress was stained with blood. The stench of it filled her nostrils.

  Two hotel staff helped her back onto the bed. By the time a doctor arrived, Sophie knew that something terrible was happening to her baby.

  ‘You’re miscarrying,’ the young Indian doctor told her, ‘I’m sorry. I’ll give you something to help the pain.’

  ‘No,’ Sophie sobbed, ‘I can’t be! Please don’t let me lose my baby.’

  An hour later, it was all over. Sophie watched in disbelief as the messy remains of her pregnancy were bundled into a sheet and carried away.

  ***

  Tam returned with the dawn, ashen and hung-over. Word of the tragic mishap to Telfer Memsahib in the night reached him before Sophie could tell him herself.

  He stood beside her, looking down at her desolate face, her eyes dark-ringed and puffy from weeping.

  ‘Tell me it isn’t true,’ he croaked.

  Sophie closed her eyes so she didn’t have to look at his guilt-ridden face.

  ‘Oh lassie,’ he croaked. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Sophie whispered.

  ‘Yes it was,’ Tam said bitterly. He sat down on the bed and began to sob. She did not have the strength to comfort him. All she wanted right then was to go to sleep and never wake up.

  ***

  Word soon spread of the Telfers’ tragedy. Mrs Bracknall insisted that Sophie should come to Mayo Gardens to convalesce.

  ‘Not there,’ Sophie was adamant. ‘I know she means to be kind but I couldn’t bear it. Please take me back to Changa Manga.’

  Somehow the thought of being back in the jungle, looked after by the kind Hafiz was all that she could face. Her life with Tam was held in limbo in the days that followed. Neither referred to their terrible row or the loss of their baby or whether they had a future. Her feelings were shredded – her insides felt gouged out at the loss of her baby – yet a small part of her felt guilty relief that Bracknall could no longer exert a mental hold over her. At least she would not have to go through life pretending the baby was Tam’s. It was bleak consolation. She wrote to Tilly, a long outpouring of all that had happened. How she longed for the kind comforting presence of her oldest friend.

  One night, standing watching fireflies from the veranda, Tam admitted, ‘It wasn’t the scandal over you and Rafi that lost me the job. Bracknall just threw that in as a cautionary tale.’

  Tam turned to her. ‘He said I am to take leave – six to eight months – and not to come back until the fever is out of my system. Then I’m to go to Peshawar because the heat will be dry and I’m less likely to have a relapse.’ He snorted. ‘Of course that was the last thing I wanted to be told. I’d survived the trenches – I wasn’t going to have my career ruined by India’s climate.’

  ‘Oh Tam, why didn’t you tell me that?’

  ‘I’m sorry lassie. I had no right to blame you for it. I was just lashing out.’

  So she told him about her reckless ride in the tonga.

  ‘You’re right; I was in love with Rafi. After the argument – hearing how you still loved Nancy – all I wanted was to see him – just set eyes on him. Remind myself that someone did love me, even if we can never be together.’ Her feelings felt cauterised. ‘So you see, you mustn’t blame yourself for the miscarriage. It was a horrible accident.’

  Tam shook his head. ‘I drove you to it. I will always blame myself.’

  A week later, as Tam prepared to go back to Lahore and arrange a passage home, a letter came from Tilly in answer to Sophie’s outpourings on her situation. Sophie had come to a decision. She steeled herself to say it.

  ‘I’m not coming with you. I think we should separate.’

  He looked fearful. ‘But we could try again – try for another child.’

  ‘No Tam,’ she said gently. ‘We’d be doing that for the wrong reasons. A child needs to know it’s born out of love.’

  He looked about to argue so she quickly went on. ‘This way you are free to go to Nancy if that’s what you want. It sounds to me as if that’s what she wants. And I won’t stand in your way. Looking back, I see now that it was me who pushed you into marriage. I thought I was in love – perhaps I was for a bit – but it was India I really wanted.’

  Tam’s expression softened. ‘But what will you do?’

  ‘I can’t have our baby anymore,’ she said, her voice wavering, ‘but I can have India. I feel I belong here still. I’ll go and stay with Tilly and decide what to do from there. She’s been asking me to go for ages – says she has information about my parents. I’ve been putting off going – maybe I’m afraid of what she’s found out – but nothing can hurt as much as losing our baby. I’m going back to Assam.’

  She heard Tam swallow down a sob. He came to her on the cane sofa, sat down and took her hand.

  ‘I know I haven’t been an easy man to live with.’

  ‘You’ve been ill a lot of the time,’ Sophie sympathised, ‘but it’s partly because I don’t make you happy either. When I first met you, you were full of fun and enthusiasm for life. If Nancy makes you happy like that then that’s what I want you to be.’

  ‘Thank you lassie.’ He gave her a sad smile. ‘It’s just that Nancy knew me before the gas attack. She knows the old Tam – and that’s what I’m trying to hang onto.’

  For a long time they sat in silence, listening to the screech of parakeets as the sun dipped behind the trees.

  Chapter 40

  Assam

  After Tilly had returned to Cheviot View at the end of August, she had settled better than before into the life of a tea planter’s wife. She had been away two months; Jamie was sitting up, had grown a tuft of dark red hair and two teeth had appeared in his lower gums that gleamed when he grinned and giggled, which was often. James had been overjoyed to have them back.

  ‘I’d almost forgotten what you looked like,’ he had teased, hugging his wife and tickling his son under his plump milky chin, making him squeal.

  ‘We’ve missed you too,’ Tilly had smiled, glad to feel his broad arms around her and to see the delight in his weathered face.

  Meera was happy to be with her family again too and Tilly had felt guilt at keeping her from her little boy just so that she could pursue her obsession with Sophie’s parents in Shillong. She had decided to put it all behind her. She didn’t really want to know what James’s involvement had been; it was sixteen years ago and she didn’t want to judge his younger self. She knew James did not want to talk about it again, so she would not spoil their happy reunion with fruitless questions. She had never known him more loving or demonstrative – reluctant to leave her bed in the morning and quick to return from the tea gardens at dusk rather than linger with the men – and he was becoming more interested in baby Jamie.

  ‘Come here you little fat pup,’ he would cry as he bound up the veranda steps, seized his son and swung him into the air.

  Jamie’s startled face would either crumple into a howl of alarm or light up in a huge gummy grin. His father laughed and kissed him whatever the reaction. Jamie would jam his fingers into James’s mouth and giggle while his father made nonsense noises to entertain him.

  Tilly felt more settled than she had ever been before, inviting round Ros, Muriel and Jean Bradley for tea, games of cards, lending books and swapping plant cuttings from each other’s gardens. In Shillong she had discovered that Ros and her father were keen stamp collectors. Now Tilly and Ros spent happy hours helping each other add to their albums.

  Tilly even welcomed the sound of Sinbad sing
ing and shrieking at her when she got up for breakfast. As September gave way to October, the humidity dropped and the days became pleasant. Sometimes James would take them out in his car and they would picnic above the river, watching the local boatmen toing and froing with their passengers and cargo, while elephants wallowed at the edges and cooled themselves with trunkfuls of water.

  Then a letter came from Sophie.

  James returned to find his wife distraught and red-eyed from crying. She rushed at him, burying her face in his chest. ‘It’s awful! Poor Sophie. The baby. And Tam!’

  James tried to calm her, steering her into the house and sitting her down in a chair.

  ‘Fetch a lime and soda,’ he bade an anxious Aslam. ‘Now, take a deep breath and tell me: what’s happened to Sophie?’

  ‘I thought it strange I hadn’t heard from her for weeks,’ Tilly sniffed, ‘not since she told me she was expecting and Tam was hoping for promotion. She was all excited about going on a trek into the Himalayas. I just thought everything must be fine and she was too busy to write. I kept writing to her from Shillong ...’

  ‘You’re not to blame for her lapse in letter writing,’ James grunted. ‘But she’s written now?’

  Tilly straightened out the crumpled letter she had been clutching since opening it two hours ago. She gulped back tears. ‘She’s miscarried.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ James said, looking embarrassed. ‘But it’s not uncommon is it? Hardly the end of the world. They can try again.’

  Tilly winced at his lack of understanding.

  ‘She’s planning to leave Tam,’ Tilly’s voice wavered.

  ‘What! Leave him? Why, in God’s name would she do that?’

  She handing the letter over. James looked warily at the screeds of large looping writing.

  ‘I’m not sure I should be prying into your private correspondence.’