Ryman, Rebecca

by Olivia

  "Raventhorne?" Olivia stared at him blankly. "He's back from Assam?"

  "Aye. Gossip is he's putting oot feelers for a purchase."

  For weeks now Olivia had been preparing herself for the moment of Raventhorne's return to Calcutta. She had managed to even persuade herself that she was absolutely ready for the eventuality. But now, she was aghast at the swiftness with which Donaldson's brief syllable of confirmation had reinvoked her heavy sense of dread. Somehow she hid her apprehension behind seeming unconcern and stilled her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. Donaldson's other bit of news, momentarily forgotten, now leapt to mind and she looked surprised, certain that she had misheard him.

  "For a purchase of the Daffodil, did you say?"

  "Aye. So the rumour goes."

  "But why . . .?" Olivia was bewildered. "Trident uses only clippers. As she is now, the Daffodil isn't remotely seaworthy. What would Trident want with a wreck like that?"

  Not particularly interested, Donaldson shrugged. "He could use her for firewood, I reck'n. When Ransome's price dips to a penny and a half." Reopening his ledgers, he proceeded to other matters.

  But throughout the day, Olivia's own conjectures proliferated. They all centered around the curious question, why should Jai Raventhorne, of all people, want to buy the Daffodil, of all ships! To take advantage of Ransome's state of depression, then make profits on a resale? No, that was palpably absurd. Subsequent profits, if any, would be a pittance; for all his faults, Raventhorne didn't scrounge for petty gain. That much Olivia did know as a certainty. Something about the snippet dropped so casually by Donaldson excited Olivia. Raventhorne did nothing without good reason. Instinct warned her that if the gossip was correct, behind his interest in a junk vessel belonging to a company whose very name plate was anathema to him must lie a very good reason indeed. But what?

  The answer, when it finally came, was from an expected source: Estelle. But it was not an answer Olivia would have ever deduced for herself without her cousin's unknowing help.

  It was the day before Estelle's return to Cawnpore.

  John had been generous in allowing his wife a longer stay in Calcutta than he had originally intended. But, in his levelheadedness, he hoped that for the cousins to spend time together would prove therapeutic for both. Having met and talked at length with Raventhorne in England, John now knew a great deal more than he had before. About Olivia's unhappy circumstances he had heard everything from his wife. Between them the cousins had many misunderstandings to settle, much rancor to dispel. And Estelle needed badly to unbottle her manifold guilt and smouldering anger. In his warm letter to Olivia, John tactfully said only that he hoped his wife's company had not been too much of a strain and that it had proved mutually beneficial.

  Yes, Olivia conceded to herself, the interlude with Estelle had been mutually beneficial. It had released them both from some tensions at least, and had provided occasional light-heartedness. Olivia was genuinely glad that in her spontaneous outburst Estelle had pin-pointed verbally that inner sore that was causing her the most suffering. It was disappointing, of course, that from her compulsive outpourings about Raventhorne, Olivia had not gleaned as much "wheat" as she had hoped, but every little bit helped. If not dramatically revelatory, the outpourings had given her many further insights into the cracks and crevices of the man, many little sidelights that might someday prove useful. He had talked, for instance, about Sujata to her cousin, perhaps because Estelle had bluntly asked him about her. That little fragment Olivia stored away carefully in her arsenal; discarded mistresses, especially when disgruntled, were weighty cannon-fodder, after all!

  On Estelle's last evening in Calcutta, the cousins strolled the embankment after supper, as had become their custom. The January night was bracingly chilly. It made a pleasant change from the cloying humidity of the still, warm days with their brassy sunshine. There were spectral mists on the river, enclosing them as they ambled leisurely in a cool, dark tent of privacy peppered above with stars.

  "I went to see Jai this morning." With Raventhorne back from Assam this too was inevitable; even so, Olivia felt a mild sense of shock. She received the information in silence. "He's still in a vile temper with me," Estelle continued with a sigh. "He hasn't forgiven me for that evening. We had another flaming row. He was insufferably callous about what happened to Papa." Even in the dark Olivia could sense the quiver of her lips.

  Only because of her own inner turbulence, Olivia blurted out, "Did he by any chance mention Amos?"

  Estelle looked surprised. "No. Why should he?"

  "Did you?"

  She regretted the question instantly, but it was out. "No, of course not!" Estelle was immeasurably wounded. "Can you still not bring yourself to have at least some faith in me and the promise I have made?" Contrite, Olivia touched her arm but she pulled back. "If you only knew how sick I am of all these stupid acrimonies and animosities! My father, the cause of them, is dead, dead, dead! Can't we now think of repairing the damage instead of perpetuating it?"

  "Uncle Joshua's death, much as I mourn it, has nothing to do with my own 'acrimony,' as you call it," Olivia pointed out a trifle coldly.

  "Yes, I know." Deflated again, Estelle sat down on a boulder and stared at the river. "But all that's behind you, Olivia. If you . . . we made an effort to forget, wouldn't our lives be less complicated?"

  "By forgetting, do you think those lives would be instantly refashioned into little idylls of contentment?"

  "They could. If we wanted them to be!"

  "And how willing is your allegedly maligned brother to forget!"

  Estelle shook her head in despair. "He's as bad as ... as everyone else. Pigheaded and self-destructive! I know he too has a lot to forget, to forgive, but had he seen my poor father with his head blown away . . ." She stopped, unable to dispel the vision, and shut her eyes tight.

  There was something heart-wrenching in Estelle's simplistic, artless blueprint for universal regeneration and, impulsively, Olivia sat down beside her and laced her arm through hers. "Then why not give up and leave us to our continuing perversities to wallow in as we see fit?"

  "No! You can scoff as much as you like, dear Coz, but you will never convince me that you are perverse." Resolutely, Estelle abandoned her grief. "Nor, despite all his infuriating antics, Jai. Don't forget, now I know him better than even . . . better than anybody else. He has hidden depths, Olivia, depths in which there is such softness that you would be astonished."

  "Yes," Olivia agreed lightly, "I surely would!"

  Estelle clutched at the arm laced through hers. "No, listen, Olivia—what I was trying to tell you the other day isn't a fabrication. When I mentioned the word sister to him, it angered him, yes, but it also utterly bewildered him. The concept of any relative, apart from his mother and her people, was so alien to him that he was staggered. Initially, he rejected it with contempt. He took to glaring at me by the hour, nervous and suspicious, as if I might suddenly spring up and bite him. But then, the thought of having me as a sister intrigued him. Once and for all it cleared the air between us of all that silly romantic rubbish," she had the grace to lower her eyes and blush, "and paved the way for quite another relationship. I began to fascinate him, I could see that. He began to actually enjoy the prospect of being an older brother, solicitous and protective. And, of course, authoritarian." With another remnant from earlier days, Estelle giggled, a forgotten sparkle returning to her brilliant blue eyes. "It was then that he started to mellow, to talk with relaxed restraint, to regret his unkindness to me—although he never said so with words—and to arrive at the decision to meet John, make frank explanations and then persuade him to still marry me. But then, all at once," Estelle stopped, again uncertain as she cast an oblique glance at her impassive cousin, "Jai changed again. It was very sudden and it was after we touched some other port in Africa. He locked himself in his cabin, refused to see me. He took to pacing the decks at night, obviously in the grip of some terrible torment that
threatened his sanity."

  Remembering those nights, Estelle was again stepped in melancholy. "I longed to reach out to him, help him, comfort him, assure him of at least my love, for he had no other. But he wouldn't let me come near. I have never known any man, Olivia, so alone, so much in need of someone. In that stony citadel there are cracks, Olivia," speaking with passion, she got up to walk about restlessly, "gaping holes, soft spots easily penetrated. One I know is his mother. The other, which I did not know then but do know now, is you."

  Olivia congealed. None of this means anything to me now. I don't want to hear it! Gritting her teeth, she continued to show indifference and, in fact, raised a hand to her mouth to hide an extravagant yawn.

  "Oh, I know you're bored, I know you find this tedious—but tell you I must!" However much she wanted to earn Olivia's total forgiveness, Estelle was not prepared to abandon her defence of her brother. "I didn't notice it then, but Jai talked—railed, rather!—about Papa, about Mama, about Grandmama. On occasion, when he couldn't avoid it, he even talked about his mother, although never in any detail. The one person he never mentioned, never even referred to in passing, Olivia, was you. But when I spoke about you, which was constantly, Jai would listen with the attention of one in a trance, his eyes fixed, unwavering. Hindsight tells me that he was memorising every word about you, every syllable, hoarding it away like a squirrel gathering nuts for winter."

  Frantic to halt the flow, Olivia opened her mouth to lodge an indignant protest, but Estelle would not have any of it. She silenced her with an aggressive gesture.

  "All this I have to tell you before I leave, Olivia!" Fearful of being blocked, her gushing cataract of words gathered momentum. "But that transformation in him, that sudden agony—it was only when I returned here and saw Amos that the cause of it became clear. In that African port there were other ships from Calcutta. The captains of the vessels were known to Jai; he spent time with them. And it must have been then that he learned of your marriage to Freddie Birkhurst. I can't see any other reason for his physical and mental collapse." She paused to let that sink in, then leashed her belligerence, content that she had made the point she sought to. "Anyway, we proceeded to England. Embittered as Jai was, he made tremendous efforts to win John's confidence, and eventually did. It was Jai who made arrangements for the wedding, paid for it, bought me an elaborate trousseau, lavished gifts on us and then, as a 'family friend,' gave me away. John's parents were not told the entire story. They are simple people; they would not have been able to understand or accept the whole truth. But, won over by Jai's silver tongue, his inimitable courtesy and generosity, they asked no questions." In the argentine dark, her eyes shone with tears. "If Jai once sought to break my life, then it is he who also made it, Olivia. He is capable of reparation, he does have a conscience. Mama's rejection of me, Papa's too, has made him angry again, frustrated him, for he knows it was he who instigated it. He will not forgive them ever, for that and for everything else, but he knows now that I at least am on his side. With you also gone, Olivia, as you will be one day, I have only Jai left whose veins share my blood." Having said so much, she could not leave the vital rest unsaid. "If I can forgive Jai, Olivia, then can you also not bring yourself to?"

  Estelle's bold question, the question to which she had been building right from the beginning of her visit, wafted away on the wind. She waited with trepidation for an answer. It came and it was what she had, unhappily, expected. "No." Just that one syllable of finality, nothing more. Saddened by her failure, Estelle fell silent. And in her disappointment she saw that whatever had been between Jai and her cousin was not available to her, perhaps never would be. Nor was it, sadly, any of her business. Olivia yawned, this time with genuine fatigue. "If you have nothing more to say, then can we think of returning so that we can both go to sleep? You have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow."

  "There is something more I have to say, another small example of—"

  "No, Estelle! Maybe tomorrow morning." Her effort at pretences had worn her out; she could not take anymore, not tonight!

  "Now, Olivia! Tomorrow there will be no time." In her final bid to move her unyielding cousin, Estelle too was determined. She put a restraining hand on Olivia's arm to stop her from leaving. "During those days of my imprisonment in the master cabin, I discovered something. As you must know, Jai has no interest in possessions. Like his Chitpur house, the cabin was bare save for essentials. What I found hidden in a bottom drawer under a pile of old sea maps was a cloth bundle. A square of red velvet with some oddments within. Jai had humiliated me and I was livid; I unwrapped the bundle without any qualms of conscience." Because it was her last opportunity to say all this, Estelle spoke very fast, breathless in her eagerness. "There was a bizarre assortment inside—that is, bizarre to me at the time. Silver bangles, nose and toe rings such as Indian women wear, a pair of rope slippers, some wooden animals, chiselled toys in various shapes, one—a female figure—that reminded me of a ship's mascot, a gauze veil, two faded cotton blouses, a skirt with braid edging and," she swallowed and hushed her voice, "a small pellet of opium."

  A silver locket.

  Olivia fought back the image. A night hawk shrieked and zigzagged across their path in its eternal hunt for prey. They both started. Its cry was piercingly shrill and jolted the quietness of the night.

  "These were his mother's meagre belongings, but I didn't know that then. Foolishly, I later asked him about the curious bundle. The effect of my question was electric. Jai first went chalky white, then absolutely berserk with temper. He called me vile names, raged like a maniac, accused me of every criminal vice he could think of, said I was a true daughter of my parents. I was terrified; I had made a gaffe, but I didn't know what. Jai didn't relent for days. During that time I vowed never to mention that bundle again, either to him or to anyone else. And I haven't. I tell you now only to prove that, like Papa, Jai also pretends to be above the human weakness of possessing normal feelings, but he does have them."

  A captive audience, Olivia had listened to Estelle in stoic silence. But, as Estelle now saw, she was not touched by anything she had heard. Indeed, she was irritated. "Save your breath and your recommendations for someone to whom they will mean something, Estelle. Although," she camouflaged her reaction with a smile that tried to be light but succeeded only in seeming false, "they tempt me to also say something I have been intending to for some time. Once, I blamed you for the wreck that is now my life. I don't anymore. Like me, you were a victim; unlike me, you have survived. I don't begrudge you that, Estelle, believe me. I rejoice in your marriage, rejoice that you have formed new relationships that have brought you satisfaction. In your crusade to regenerate lives, I admire your zeal, because it is noble. However," she dropped her pretence of a smile, "in healing everyone's scars you mustn't begrudge me mine. Nor my crusades, whether you consider them noble or not. If Jai Raventhorne now exists for me at all, it is as a threat to my son."

  "Amos is also Jai's son!"

  "No, oh no," Olivia breathed softly. "Were it only biology that made fathers and sons, why the need for noble crusades? No, I don't accept him as the father of my son! Amos is a Birkhurst, as I warned you never to forget. To secure him that name, I have on my conscience another broken life, that of the decent man whose only fault was that he married me for love. Until Freddie decrees otherwise, Amos will remain a Birkhurst. But when the time comes to choose another name, that of your brother will not be a contender."

  Despairing at a bitterness that could be so enduring, Estelle again tried to plead. "But Jai has no inkling of the truth! Is it fair to condemn him regardless?"

  "He has never made any effort to discover the truth."

  "But you don't want him to! You ask to have it both ways, Olivia, and that isn't fair either."

  "To be contrary with impunity is a rule he has devised. Besides, he once advised me never to consider him fair. And only those capable of giving justice are fit to receive it."

&nb
sp; It was hopeless!

  Bitter and blinding herself to the truth, her cousin had passed beyond all rational limits. To argue further, Estelle saw, would be futile. "Olivia, tell Jai about his son," she suggested once more in weary defeat. "I will ensure that Amos remains in your custody. It isn't right to deprive a child of his father."

  "No. And if you ever tell him," the smile was back but there was an ominous glint in her eye, "you will have made yourself an enemy for life."

  Estelle had neither the courage nor the energy for further confrontation.

  As for Olivia, she was suddenly relieved that her cousin's visit was at an end. A hundred hammers resounded within her head; every bone in her body ached, her feet were swollen, her brain clogged with useless clutter. So much talk, so many debates, such strong emotions! What had they all achieved for either, except less peace of mind? Yes, Estelle's company had been amusing in many ways, but now she was glad that Estelle was going.

  It was only after Estelle had finally departed that Olivia suddenly pinned down the microscopic speck abrading the back of her mind. Something Estelle had said had struck a chord somewhere; in the wake of her departure, Olivia identified it. The sudden flash of inspiration first startled, then excited her enormously. It took her breath away and instantly dispelled all her weariness. No, Estelle's lengthy discourses had not been entirely unproductive; they had achieved something! If and when Jai Raventhorne chose to open hostilities, she would be ready. Her armoury now boasted that one possible weapon to which he would not have an answer.

  As it happened, Olivia did not have long to wait. Raventhorne fired his first salvo a week after his return.

  "I did tell Your Ladyship that Kala Kanta is back, dinna I?" Willie Donaldson asked her the moment she stepped into her office.

  "Yes. Why?" From his very tone she suspected that it was not an idle inquiry. It wasn't.