by Deborah Hale
“It’s Dr Ellison I’ve come to see,” she explained. “Is he away as well?”
“He is here.” The servant beckoned her inside.
She gave him her name and waited while he went off to enquire if the doctor would see her. A few moments later, the servant returned and led her upstairs to a deep veranda, like the one around Simon’s villa. A short, dark-haired man put down a book and rose from his chair when she appeared.
“Doctor Ellison?” She curtsied. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“My pleasure, miss.” He motioned her toward a cane-backed chair opposite his. “I must confess I’m not accustomed to being sought out by young ladies. How may I be of service?”
Now that she was so close to the answers she’d sought for the past two years, Bethan could scarcely master her nerves to ask the question. “I—I was told you were a passenger aboard the Dauntless on her final voyage. Is that true?”
The doctor nodded.
“Could I trouble you to tell me what happened to the ship and her crew? I heard there was a mutiny and a fire. Were you the only survivor?”
“May I ask the reason for your interest in such a gruesome subject, Miss Conway?” As he said her name, a flicker of recognition crossed the doctor’s face. “I say, you aren’t any relation to the Conway who was second mate aboard the Dauntless?”
His question made Bethan’s pulse pound so loud she wondered if he could hear it. She hadn’t reckoned on him remembering Hugh by name. That made it all the more likely he would know for certain what had become of her brother.
“Please, Doctor,” she cried, “there is something I must confess. But you have to promise me you will not tell anyone else!”
“You have my word I will keep it in the strictest confidence.”
There was no use trying to keep her secret now that Dr Ellison had guessed most of it. So she took a deep breath and blurted out the truth she wished she had dared tell Simon. “Hugh Conway was…is my brother. I came to Singapore to find out what happened to him. Can you tell me, please?”
The way the doctor’s brow furrowed, she knew the news would not be good. She braced to hear it with the thought that at least it would end her uncertainty and let her get on with her life.
The doctor stared off into the distance just as a sudden rain shower began to fall. “There was trouble between the captain and crew of the Dauntless long before we sailed from Singapore. I don’t know how it all started, but I could feel the mutual hostility from our first day out. It built and built like a great storm brewing—a storm that finally broke off the coast of India.”
Bethan leaned closer, straining to catch every word above the sound of rain that had started and was cascading off the tile roof.
“The captain ordered the ship brought closer to shore than the helmsman deemed safe,” Dr Ellison continued. “The next thing we knew, he was set upon by some of his crew while the officers and passengers were herded below decks at gunpoint and locked in the hold.”
“And Hugh took part in that?” The thought horrified Bethan far more after hearing Simon’s account of the Sabine mutiny.
“Your brother seemed like a decent fellow, Miss Conway. He was good humoured and obliging and had a far more civil tongue than the rest of the crew. That is why I recall him so clearly. I never saw him take an active role in the mutiny, but I cannot swear he was out of it altogether.”
“Can you at least tell me whether he lived or died?”
The doctor shook his head. “I wish I could. I never saw his body, but then so many were lost in the fire or drowned. I feel certain he must have been among them, for I never saw him after that day.”
So Hugh was dead. How many times during the past two years had Bethan thought he might be? Still, Dr Ellison’s words struck her like a spring mudslide thundering down a Welsh hillside. She clutched her chest and let out a strangled whimper. How could she have been so wicked as to half-hope for this, so she would not be forced to make the difficult choice between Hugh and Simon?
The doctor pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her. “I am grieved to be the bearer of such distressing news, Miss Conway. You have my deepest sympathy.”
Bethan refused his handkerchief. She was too dazed for tears yet, though she knew they would come. She did not want to let them fall in front of a stranger, no matter how kind.
“Thank you, Doctor.” She lurched to her feet. “At least now I know. It’s better than wondering.”
That was a lie. In time it might get better. But for now, she would have given anything not to know.
The doctor rose from his chair. “If it is any consolation, your brother was probably more fortunate than those crewmen who did survive. They were all hanged.”
It was no consolation, but Bethan did not say so. Instead she mumbled a few more words of thanks and fled from the house while her trembling knees would carry her.
It was still raining out, though not as hard. Opening her parasol, she stumbled back down the street toward Simon’s house, muffled in a fog of misery so heavy she could not imagine anything making her feel worse.
Then, behind her, she heard the clop and splash of hoofbeats and Simon’s voice. “Bethan, what were you doing at Dr Moncrieff’s?”
On top of her grief for her brother, the prospect of explaining the situation to Simon was more than she could bear. How could she bring herself to tell him that, like so many other women he’d known, she had used and deceived him?
What had Bethan doing at the doctor’s house? The possibilities that rushed through Simon’s mind included a few he was ashamed of thinking, but he could not help himself.
Motioning for his driver to stop the gharry, he climbed out from beneath the carriage’s bonnet into the rain. Then he waved Mahmud to drive on while he walked Bethan back to the house.
With none of the pleasures he’d anticipated to keep him in bed this morning, he had risen early and gone in to work. Business was a good deal less complicated than what he was dealing with at home, yet, lately, he had a nagging suspicion it was a good deal less important as well.
In any case, he didn’t intend to bury himself in his work, as he had for the past several years, to hide from his personal problems. He would find no escape from his feelings for Bethan there. Nor any insights into their future. He only stayed long enough to leave orders about what work needed to be done. Then he hurried home, hoping a good night’s sleep might have made Bethan readier to listen to reason.
He didn’t know what to think when he spied her emerging from Dr Moncrieff’s house. He only knew he wanted answers.
She didn’t turn when he called out to her, but kept on walking.
“Bethan, did you hear me?” He caught her by the elbow. “I asked you a question.”
Her steps slowed and she glanced toward him. There was a look in her eyes like nothing he’d seen in them before—a heartrending compound of pain and sorrow that did not belong there.
“Are you ill?” A garrotte of fear tightened around his throat. “Is that why you went to see the doctor? What is it? If Moncrieff can’t help you, I’ll take you to Penang or Calcutta. I’ll—”
“It’s nothing like that. Oh, Simon, I’m so sorry for the things I said last night! I should have known better. Can you ever forgive me?” Her lower lip trembled and her eyes flooded with tears, as swiftly as the Singapore sky with rain showers.
Overcome with relief to hear she was not ill, Simon gathered her into his arms. The easing rain pattered down upon them while she wept as if her heart would break. Their public embrace drew some curious stares from passers-by but Simon did not care.
Ever since she’d arrived in Singapore, Bethan had offered him advice and comfort. It felt good to be able to return the favour at last, striking a vital balance between them that had been missing until now.
“There’s nothing to forgive.” He rested his chin against the brim of her hat. “You aren’t the only one who said things you wish you could take back. It see
ms marriage isn’t an easy subject for either of us to talk about. I shouldn’t have sprung my proposal on you out of the blue like that.”
Another reason occurred to him why she might have paid a call on the doctor. Was she carrying his child? Her tearful outburst made him suspect so. Perhaps that explained her emotional reaction to his proposal. She hadn’t wanted him to think she would use a child of theirs the way Carlotta had, to manipulate him.
It was not a subject he wanted to quiz her about on a public street.
“Come along,” he murmured as her weeping eased. “Let’s get back to the house. We can talk better there.”
He fished out his handkerchief and press it upon her without breaking their embrace altogether. While Bethan wiped her eyes, he wrapped his arm around her waist and steered her towards the house. By the time they reached it, the sun had come out again and vapour was rising off the wet garden. Bethan had wiped her face and regained her composure.
Ah-Ming appeared when they entered, but withdrew discreetly when Simon shot her a warning glance. Leading Bethan out to the veranda, he eased her down on to the wicker settee beside him.
“It’s not your fault.” She toyed with the damp handkerchief in her lap. “Your proposal did come as a surprise, but it was lovely. I should never have taken on the way I did. It was good of you to want to do right by me, whatever your reasons.”
Did she truly believe that’s all there was to it? Thinking back over his clumsy, unromantic proposal, Simon decided he could hardly blame her.
“I don’t think I explained my reasons very well. Or perhaps I could not bring myself to recognise them for what they are.” Even talking about it like this, glimpsing the truth, sent his heart into a fast, shallow beat, as if he were about to take the deadliest risk of his life.
“I should not have spoken that way about your father.” He offered the apology as he tried to work up the nerve to say something he had not been able to admit to himself, let alone her. “I suppose I needed to find some other reason you would refuse me. Besides the most obvious one, I mean—that you don’t…care for me.”
Was it cowardly of him, hoping to solicit a declaration of her feelings before making one of his own? Perhaps, but the terrible power of love frightened him more than any physical threat.
Bethan did not leave him twisting in doubt. “I do care about you, Simon! You’re the finest man I’ve ever met.”
Her words had the pure, sweet ring of sincerity. And when she lifted her face to meet his gaze, he could not deny the glow of admiration and affection that shone in her eyes. At the same time, he sensed a lurking secret shame that troubled him.
Fearing his suspicion made him unworthy of her praise, Simon tried to make light of it. “You haven’t met many men, have you?”
“Enough to know I’d have to go a long way to find one better. You weren’t so far off the mark in what you said about my father. I think part of me still doesn’t believe I’m good enough for any man to want to spend his whole life with. The more I care for you, the harder it is for me to believe I’m half worthy to be your wife.”
Was that the secret shame he’d glimpsed, the one she hid behind blunt-spoken bravado? Yet again Simon reproached himself for suspecting something worse. He must stop making her pay for the betrayal of those other women.
“Good enough—of course you are!” Suddenly it was more important for him to defend her from the spectre of self-doubt than to protect himself from rejection or betrayal. “You’re honest and loyal and kind. You swept into my life like an Indian monsoon after the parched season, with warm rains that brought everything inside me back to life.”
As he spoke, her shoulders heaved and she lifted his handkerchief to her eyes again. Simon hoped they were happy tears. He never wanted to be the cause of her shedding any other kind.
“It means so much to me, to hear I’ve helped you.” She fumbled for his hand and gave it a fierce squeeze. “You’ve helped me, too, though I didn’t know how much until just now. You make me feel as if I’m worth protecting and giving pleasure.”
“But I made you doubt your worth in other ways, didn’t I?” Simon pulled her close until her head rested against his chest. “By wanting you as my mistress instead of my wife. By pretending I felt only desire for you when it was so much more than that.”
He heaved a sigh from the murkiest depths of his soul. “You must believe none of that was any reflection on you. I was only trying to protect myself from being betrayed again. If you must measure your value by my actions, consider how you won my trust. After the life I’ve had, you must see what a special woman it took to make me risk my heart again.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Bethan whispered. She sounded as frightened of the risk as he was.
“Why don’t you say ‘yes’ to my proposal? I promise you I am making it for the only reason that truly matters.” He strove to keep even the slightest hint of hesitation from his voice. “Because I love you.”
In the silence that followed, his words hung naked and vulnerable.
“I want to say yes,” Bethan murmured at last. “You have no idea how much. But there’s something I need to work out for myself first.”
What did she need to work out? Was it something he already knew about or something she’d kept secret? Whatever it was, Simon hoped she would confide in him.
Did Simon realise she hadn’t told him what she was doing at Dr Moncrieff’s house? Perhaps he’d forgotten about it or thought he knew. Perhaps he didn’t care.
Over the next several days, Bethan tried to sort out her feelings and decide what to do next. One of the hardest parts to wrestle with was her grief and guilt over Hugh’s death. She knew his fate had been decided many months ago, before she’d ever dreamed of coming to Singapore. Yet she could not escape the haunting sense that her brother was dead because her faith had wavered, because she had stopped wanting so desperately for him to be alive.
It helped her understand Simon’s guilt about the fate of those female passengers on the Sabine. Such feelings might defy reason, but that did not lessen the heavy burden they placed upon the heart. The last thing she wanted was to add to the burden Simon already carried.
The only thing that made her hesitate to accept his proposal was the fear she might do something to turn him against her and lose his love. He’d placed her on such a high pedestal it would be far too easy to fall, damaging their marriage beyond repair. The only worse thing she could imagine than being abandoned by a husband was continuing to remain in a marriage after love and respect had gone. Was that why Carlotta had fled into the night to meet her death?
How would Simon react if he discovered she had already fallen off his dangerously high pedestal? If he found out that the woman he’d praised for her honesty and loyalty had been deceiving him from the moment they met, could he ever forgive her betrayal of his hard-won trust? Especially when her deception had all been to protect a mutineer, the kind of man he hated above all others.
Her anxious heart argued that Simon need never know what she’d done. The Dauntless mutiny was long past and forgotten by most people. Doctor Ellison had promised to keep her secret. Finding out how she’d lied to him would only hurt Simon, who had been hurt too much already.
Against all those sound, self-serving reasons stood the troublesome conviction that if she continued to keep her secret from him, their marriage would be built upon a lie. How could anything with such a flawed foundation hope to stand the test of time? She must find the courage to tell him and hope he could find the compassion to forgive her.
Then, one evening, she overheard Simon telling Rosalia a bedtime story. “This ivory fan belonged to your mama. She brought it from Macau when she came to Penang. That is where we met and got married. It’s where you were born. The fan was given to your mama when she was a little girl by her grandmother, Rosalia Alvares.”
“Rosalia—just like me!”
“That’s right. You were named after her. I think your m
ama would want you to have this.”
Bethan could scarcely believe her ears. Simon was talking about his late wife, a subject he’d spent the past few years trying to avoid at all costs. For Rosalia’s sake she was delighted, aware how much the child longed for any connection to the mother she’d never known.
“Thank you, Papa. But why did Mama go to Penang? And how did we come to Singapore?”
From where she was listening, Bethan sensed Simon’s hesitation. Somehow, he managed to overcome it. “That is a rather long story, but if you would like to hear it, I suppose we could begin it tonight…”
“Oh, yes, please, Papa! You tell even better stories that Bethan and Ah-Sam.”
“High praise, indeed.” Simon gave a warm chuckle. “Very well, then. Your mama left Macau with her uncle, who was her guardian. He was taking her back to Lisbon to marry a man she had never met. Your mama was afraid she would not like this man and she did not want to leave the Orient, where she had lived all her life…”
Bethan marvelled at the way Simon told the story to his daughter, leeched of the poisonous bitterness she’d heard when he confided in her. This version sounded as if it might have happened long ago to someone he barely knew. For Rosalia’s sake and perhaps his own, Simon was trying to make peace with the painful events of his past.
Seizing upon that fragile wisp of hope, Bethan crept back down the hallway and wandered out into the garden, which was shrouded in the long shadows of nightfall. If Simon could begin to break free of the blight cast upon him by past betrayals, perhaps there was a chance he could understand and forgive her deception. Unlike Carlotta, she had never meant to hurt him—she’d only been trying to protect her beloved brother.
Pacing up and down the garden path, Bethan muttered under her breath, practising the words she would use to tell Simon the truth at last. Now and then she glanced towards the veranda, hoping he would appear soon, before her nerve failed her.
As she passed the rhododendron bush, Bethan thought she heard footsteps behind her. Thinking it must be Simon, she turned to greet him.