Green Eyes (11 page)

To that end, about a month after their arrival, Anna sent a note to Major Dumesne asking him to please call at Srinagar as soon as possible. The Major and his wife, Margaret, were not only the undisputed social leaders of the English colony in Ceylon. Their plantation, Ramaya, was also the most prosperous on the island.

The Major came two days later. Raja Singha installed him in the front parlor, then came to find Anna. She was in the garden with Chelsea and Kirti, using pruning shears to vigorously attack the ubiquitous vines that had all but taken over her vegetable garden. Keeping good English vegetables alive and well in the heat and humidity of Ceylon required constant hard work. Between vines and rot, the battle was never ending.

“Memsahib, Major Dumesne has called.”

Anna looked around at that. Raja Singha, in the sarong and turban that, along with a long, collarless shirt, made up his customary dress, stood waiting for her impassively just beyond the garden gate. As usual he was expressionless, but something in his stance told her that he was perturbed.

“Is anything the matter, Raja Singha?” she asked, feeling faintly worried. Raja Singha was not one to allow trifles to disturb him.

He shook his head in the abrupt negative that was so characteristic of him. But he still stood waiting for her instead of taking himself off, so Anna divined that he wanted her to hurry. Pulling off her gardening gloves and hat, with a promise to Chelsea that she would be back as soon as she could to play hide-and-seek, she went inside. Raja Singha followed her.

Anna stopped only to wash her hands at the washstand near the back door—a task with which Raja Singha was clearly impatient—then continued to the front parlor. Although it had been in dreadful shape just a month before, it now looked much as it had before Paul’s death. The walls had been scrubbed and whitewashed, the furniture and floor polished, and the upholstery beaten to within an inch of its life. In fact, the tall-ceilinged parlor looked quite nice, Anna thought, entering with Raja Singha hovering behind her. Like her bedchamber, it had white muslin hangings that could be adjusted to block the worst of the afternoon sun. A portrait of Paul’s mother hung in the place of honor, its soft blues and rose picking up the colors in the carpet and upholstery. A mahogany bookshelf filled with Paul’s beloved books took up most of the space along one wall, and small mahogany tables glowed with the rich patina produced by much elbow grease. Perched on a corner of the rose brocade sofa was Ruby, resplendent in one of the bright silk dresses that not even the heat could dissuade her from wearing. Clearly Ruby had already taken the entertainment of the Major upon herself. She was leaning forward tantalizingly, offering the Major, who was smiling broadly, what Anna feared was an overabundant view of her décolletage as she handed him a cup of tea. At once Anna understood the reason for Raja Singha’s agitation. The Ceylonese were a puritanical lot, and Ruby was outside their ken.

“Thank you, Raja Singha, I’ll ring if I need you,” Anna said quietly to her shadow. With a bow Raja Singha took himself off. At that moment Major Dumesne and Ruby became aware of Anna’s presence. Major Dumesne stood up, looking a little flustered at having been caught so obviously enjoying the view. Ruby grinned unrepentantly at Anna.

“Mrs. Traverne, we’re so pleased that you were able to return to us. Life had grown very dull around here without the sunshine of your presence.”

“Thank you, Major.” As he approached her, Anna held out her hand which he shook and then carried briefly to his lips. Really, despite his clear appreciation for Ruby, the Major was a very nice man. Anna had grown fond of him and his wife, and they had helped her immeasurably in the dreadful days after Paul’s death, when she had been nearly demented with despair. “Chelsea and I are very glad to be back. I see you’ve met Mrs. Fisher, who was kind enough to accompany us on our journey.”

“Ah—yes. How delightful that you have brought with you a rose to add to our lovely garden of English blossoms.”

“A rose … now that’s what I call a pretty compliment. You certainly have a way with words, Major,” Ruby said, beaming at the Major as, following Anna’s lead, he resumed his seat.

The Major laughed, then glanced rather guiltily at Anna. She couldn’t decide if the guilt was because he had laughed in her presence—her widow’s weeds might make him feel that his merriment was somehow inappropriate—or because he was enjoying Ruby too much for a man with such a nice wife.

“And how is dear Margaret?” The inquiry was not meant to be pointed, although the Major’s smile vanished with it. The look he gave Anna was grave.

“I’m afraid I have sad news. Margaret passed way some six months ago. As with your husband it was a fever—in three days she was gone.”

“Oh, no! Oh, Major, I am so sorry! She was such a wonderful woman—I was so fond of her. How awful for you! Such a tragedy!”

Major Dumesne nodded. For a few moments he looked far older than his forty-some-odd years as lines of sorrow deepened in his face. “It has been hard on the children, of course, Gideon and Simon are at school in England, so they at least are removed from their sorrow. But Laura—she misses her mother very much. I would appreciate it if you would bring Chelsea to see her. Perhaps, given the similarity of their losses, they can console each other.”

Laura was the Dumesnes’ seven-year-old daughter. She and Chelsea had been fast friends since they could toddle.

“Of course I will. And you must bring her to see us. We’d be glad to have her any time. And you too, of course. I know how dreadful it is to lose one’s spouse.”

“That’s kind of you. Perhaps, like our children, we can console each other.” He smiled at Anna, and some of the lines in his face eased. “And now, let us speak of other things. I didn’t mean to put such a damper on good company.”

Anna regarded him with compassion. He and his wife had had a good marriage, and their three children had adored their mother. Life was horrible sometimes, she reflected. Horribly unfair.

“Would you want another cuppa, Major?” Ruby’s voice was soft with sympathy, although Anna recognized the glint in her eye as purely feminine interest in an attractive man. And the Major was attractive, Anna realized. With his graying fair hair and erect military posture, he was quite distinguished-looking. From long experience she knew that Ruby was nothing if not an opportunist. And with the news that the Major was a new widower, she had clearly spied a golden opportunity. It was written all over her face.

“Thank you, I believe I will have another.” The Major accepted a refill from Ruby, smiled at her warmly, then turned to Anna. “Was there a particular reason you wished me to call, Mrs. Traverne?”

“Oh yes, of course.”

Anna outlined her problem as succinctly as she could. Major Dumesne frowned.

“I’ll tell you frankly, men such as you need do not grow thick on the ground,” the Major said thoughtfully. “However, I’ll ask around. I’ve heard a rumor that the Carnegans may be going home soon—they’ve been here close to seven years, you know, and Mrs. Carnegan’s health has never been very robust. If it’s true, their overseer, Hillmore, is a sound man. He should do for you.”

“That would be lovely. Thank you.”

“Until you find someone, I’ll be happy to come around to keep an eye on things for you. Give your men some idea of how to go on.”

“Would you? That’s very kind of you. I would appreciate that very much.”

The Major shook his head, set the cup back on the tray, and stood up. “It’s the least I can do for a friend. And perhaps you and Chelsea will call on Laura.”

“Of course we will, just as soon as we may. Thank you, Major.”

“You’re very welcome, Mrs. Traverne. And now I must get on. It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Mrs. Fisher.”

“Not at all.” Ruby twinkled, standing. Along with Anna she walked the Major to the door. Though it probably wasn’t obvious to one who didn’t know her well, the expression on her face was purely predatory.

After the Major’s visit Anna began to get out more. It began with the call to Laura Dumesne that she had promised the Major. Laura, a sturdy, brown-haired child who looked absurdly like her father, was upset because her ayah was urging her to accept an invitation to Rosellen Childers’s tenth birthday party. Laura, sniffling, insisted she did not want to go. Anna, with her painfully acquired knowledge of the intricacies of grief, suspected that the prospect of enjoying herself so soon after her mother’s death was filling Laura with guilt, and guilt was the reason for the child’s refusal. But by representing how kind it would be of Laura to accompany Chelsea on her first such outing since her father’s death, Anna talked Laura into going, thus earning Major Dumesne’s undying gratitude. One of the conditions of the excursion was that Anna ride with the girls and their ayahs in the carriage as they were taken to the Childerses’ from Srinagar, where Laura would have spent the night, and then fetched back home. Of course Mary Childers, hearing that Anna was in the carriage, had invited her in, making much of a friend whom she had not seen in nearly a year. Other ladies, old friends of Anna’s, were present as well, and Anna passed a pleasant afternoon renewing acquaintances. By the time the children’s party was concluded, Anna had a dozen invitations pressed upon her.

“Paul’s been dead nearly a year. You can’t bury yourself with him,” Mary Childers advised her bluntly when Anna pointed out that she was still in mourning for her husband. Although Anna refused to leave off her blacks, she did agree to attend a few of the smaller supper parties. And she found that company did tend to help her forget her grief.

As her social life picked up, Anna found herself growing happier. It was not that she was forgetting Paul—she would never forget him. It was just that she was slowly becoming accustomed to his absence. Chelsea was adjusting, too, although she was still far from the happy little girl she had been before her father’s death.

One steamy afternoon some two months after their arrival, Anna decided to tackle the accumulation of junk in the attic. It was a mistake, she acknowledged as she sank back on her heels, wiping perspiration from her brow with a grimy hand. Although summer, with its cooling winds, was almost upon them, up under the eaves the air was so hot and thick as to be almost visible. She’d sorted through only two trunks of old papers, and already she was feeling as though she needed to lie down.

“Memsahib, a gentleman has called.”

Raja Singha, who always moved as silently as a ghost, stood at the top of the attic stairs, watching her impassively. Anna started a little at the sound of his voice, looked around, and then smiled.

“Major Dumesne?” The Major—whom she now called Charles—had become a frequent caller. Under the pretext of overseeing the cultivation of her fields, he took dinner with them two or three nights a week. Anna welcomed his visits. He had become a good friend, and, although he had never said anything, his actions gave her the impression that one day he might like to be a great deal more. But there was no urgency to his courting, if courting it was, and Anna was content to let things develop as they might.

“No, memsahib. Another gentleman. He did not give his name.”

“Oh?” Anna considered, then realized that her caller was likely the overseer—Hillmore, she thought his name was—that Charles had told her about. The Carnegans were leaving within the next two weeks, and Charles had mentioned that their overseer would be coming over to talk to her before they left.

“I’ll be right down.” she promised, and with a bow Raja Singha left.

Anna stopped by her room for the few minutes needed to wash her face and hands and pull the kerchief from her hair. She tidied the blond mass, repinning it so that it formed a cool roll at her neck, but didn’t take the time to change her dress. If the man was the Carnegans’ overseer, she didn’t wish to keep him waiting any longer than she must. Srinagar needed him.

When she walked into the front parlor, she was smiling. A tall man with very broad shoulders and straight, coarse hair the color of a raven’s wing stood with his back to her, looking out the window. He was poorly dressed in rusty black breeches and a bottle-green frock coat, both of which had clearly seen better days. His black boots were dusty, scuffed, and run down at the heels.

Anna blinked, coming to a halt just inside the door as she surveyed her guest from the top of his black head to his feet. Apparently the Carnegans had not paid the man very well, certainly not the simply enormous amount that Charles had informed her was necessary to secure the services of a first-class overseer. Or perhaps the man simply did not believe in spending his blunt on clothes.

In any case, she was not hiring him for his sartorial elegance. She wanted the best man for Srinagar, and Charles had assured her that Hillmore was that.

“Mr. Hillmore?” she inquired, having regained her poise enough to advance with a smile. “I’m Mrs. Traverne. It’s good of you to call.”

The man turned to face her. Anna’s breath caught on a shocked gasp. She stopped dead, and her hands flew to press against her mouth. Her eyes went huge.

“Mrs. Traverne, is it?” he asked almost affably, but she could have sworn the glint in his midnight-blue eyes was menacing. “And here I’ve been thinking of you all this time as my lady Green Eyes. Dare I hope that you remember me?”

XI

“D
ear God!” She stared at him as if at an apparition. It could not be—but it was: the housebreaker. There was no mistake.

“I see that you do.” There was grim satisfaction in his voice at her apparent horror. Anna could do nothing but stare as he folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head at her.

“Tell me something,” he continued conversationally. “Exactly how are we related? If you really are Mrs. Traverne, that is.”

“Of course I am Mrs. Traverne.” Anna still felt as if she were suffocating, but she had recovered enough presence of mind to drop her hands from her mouth and straighten her spine. He was not a ghost, not an image out of her fevered dreams, but the man himself, which was even more dreadful than the possibility that she had lost her mind. “What do you want? What are you doing here?”