Dangerous Inheritance (10 page)

‘I'm sorry, Truss. I don't mean about your going. As things are that would be best. But about everything else. This last week must have been lousy for you. I behaved like an absolute bitch. I'm sorry, too, about last night. I said some horrid things to you; but I was all wrought up. I'm sure you would have saved Douglas if you possibly could.'

He shook his head. ‘That's generous of you, Fleur. But, to be honest, I ought to have stayed around until he came up, and pulled him out. I realised that afterwards and felt like hell about it. If it had been you I would have; and I'll be thankful that all my life I won't have his death on my conscience.'

‘Poor Truss,' she smiled. ‘Don't think too badly of yourself. In emergencies like that it's generally more by impulse than judgment that people behave like heroes. Anyway, I'm not going to give it another thought, and you mustn't either. Wish me luck and come to see me in Ceylon.'

‘Surely,' he nodded a trifle uncertainly. ‘Bless you, honey, and … er … thanks for everything.'

When Richard and Marie Lou had got back to their room the previous night they had looked at one another in consternation, then he had muttered with a frown, ‘What the hell are we going to do about this?'

‘There is nothing we can do,' replied Marie Lou miserably. ‘Fleur is no longer a schoolgirl. We can't take her home and lock her up, or even for a voyage round the world. She'd refuse to go. And after all our hopes for her! Not only about Truss I
mean. But her wanting to marry this coloured man. It's awful; just too awful!' Marie Lou then burst into tears.

She sat down on the end of her bed. Richard was across the room in two strides and had his arms round her. ‘There, there, beloved. Please don't cry. Naturally it's a ghastly shock for you; but you'll get used to the idea. We've just got to forget the colour of his skin. He's really a very decent chap; good manners, well educated and must have quite a bit of money. If only his pigmentation were a few shades lighter we'd be congratulating ourselves on Fleur having found herself a very nice husband. For her sake and our own we've just got to look at it that way and be pleasant to him.'

Marie Lou stiffened, choked back a sob and exclaimed angrily, ‘D'you mean you'll let her go through with this?'

‘If she is really set on it, what else can we do? You've said yourself that we can't stop her and, anyhow, it will be quite a relief to have her married to a decent respectable man.'

‘What do you mean by that?'

He hesitated. ‘Well, I didn't want to worry you, but after we'd let her go to London University I heard some rather shattering things about the girls she roomed with.' He refrained from adding that it was Fleur herself, in a moment of expansion when sitting up with him late one night, who had with youthful bravado made it pretty clear about the sort of fun they all indulged in. Having always enjoyed her confidence and not wishing to lose it for good, he had done no more than stress the dangers of promiscuity and add that men were worse gossips than women, so a girl who went in for wild parties soon got a label on her that she was liable to regret when she later fell in love with some decent chap and found him averse to marrying her.

‘D'you … do you mean you think that while she was there she … she began to sleep with men?' Marie Lou faltered.

‘I think she would be abnormal if she hadn't. You must know how contagious that sort of thing can be when a lot of young women in their early twenties are rooming together. And Fleur's outlook on life is so ultra-modern. For a long time I've dreaded that she'd fall for one of those clever professors who
already had a wife, and make a mess of things for herself by going off and openly living with the bloody man. I'd rather she married Rajapakse every time.'

In consequence, when Douglas had waylaid Richard the following morning their talk had been smooth and affable. Rajapakse had expected violent opposition; but he did not resort to belligerence. He said with urbane and self-confident courtesy:

‘Sir, I owe you a profound apology. Before asking Fleur to become my wife I should have asked if you would be willing to accept me as a son-in-law.'

Richard smiled. ‘Then I'll credit you with the intention; although in these days it doesn't even seem to occur to most young men to ask the parents' consent before proposing to their daughter. But are you quite sure that it's really a good idea that you and Fleur should marry? After all, you've known one another only about ten days.'

‘Those days, sir, we have spent together. The time was ample for us to realise how much we mean to one another. Perhaps you are unaware of it, but on Saturday we spent the day alone in a sailing boat. It was then we opened our hearts. I did not exactly propose to Fleur. I only told her that I felt a deeper love for her than for any woman I had ever met. And I suggested that she should come out to Ceylon to stay with my parents. But I did make it clear that if she then liked our way of life, and saw more of me in my normal surroundings, I hoped that she would decide to remain there as my wife.'

‘That was fair enough,' Richard commented. ‘In fact, entirely honourable. The only thing that worries me and my wife is the question of your being, well… of such completely different races and cultures. I find it difficult to believe that such a union could turn out happily.'

Forgive me again if I mention that the élite families of the Sinhalese, such as mine, enjoyed poetry and discussed philosophy,
possessed libraries, dressed in fine raiment and took a bath daily, when yours were still painting themselves with woad. What I would like to say is that, apart from my love for Fleur, I can offer her more than most Englishmen can in these days. My firm is an old-established and prosperous one. My father is a wealthy man. I am his only son and shall come into his fortune when he dies. Fleur will live in a large house with every comfort. It contains many fine examples of Eastern art and has a pleasant garden. We should also go to a bungalow up in the highlands at Nuwara Eliya, where Fleur would live in pleasant conditions during the great heats. In Ceylon we have never had a colour-bar, and I have many European friends; so she would not be cut off from white society. She could have as many servants as she liked; which means that she would have plenty of free time to give to the work of Family Planning that she is so eager to take up. And, of course, while in Colombo there is dancing, tennis and wonderful bathing, which she would have ample time to enjoy.'

‘Then you are right,' Richard nodded. ‘That sounds a much more pleasant life than most young women in England can look forward to when they marry. Well, there it is. The only thing
my wife and I are concerned about is Fleur's happiness; and if you are both set on marrying we must hope that it will work out.'

When Richard told Marie Lou of this conversation, she said, ‘It all sounds marvellous, but for one thing. There is no getting over the fact that he is an Asiatic. They are different from us. As different as chalk from cheese. For a while, of course, they will be turtle doves and Fleur will cheerfully put up with all sorts of little things that she would otherwise resent. Then she'll begin to kick, then there will be trouble. She will become miserable and, as the wife of an Asiatic, she'll be no more than his chattel. Even if he sets her free, what then? The type of man we'd like her to marry is going to think twice before he takes on the cast-off of a coloured man. It's no good my talking to her, but I'm going to stop it if I can. I'll go and talk to Greyeyes. He's such a shrewd old darling, he may be able to suggest some subtle means of breaking this frightful thing up.'

She found the Duke in his room, but he did not prove very helpful. He, too, was of the opinion that such marriages rarely worked well; but, as he pointed out, Fleur having led her own life for several years it was impossible to job backwards and attempt to dictate to her. All he could suggest was that they should do their utmost to persuade her to agree to a long engagement.

‘I mean to do that in any case,' said Marie Lou. ‘If only we can get her back to England and keep her there for a few months, she may meet someone else and break it off with this awful man.'

‘My dear, you must not think of him as an awful man,' de Richleau said gently. ‘He is a very charming fellow, and you cannot blame him for having fallen in love with Fleur. But I was about to say that I think your chances of getting Fleur back to England are very slender. I doubt, too, if that would serve your purpose. Much better appear quite willing that she should go to Ceylon, provided she will agree to a long engagement. When she has spent several months there with Douglas as her constant companion their passion for one another may burn itself out. Again, it will give her a chance to see how different
these people's private way of life is from ours, and when she has she may decide that an Englishman would make a more satisfactory husband after all.'

Marie Lou considered for a moment, then she said, ‘I suppose you're right. But I won't let her go alone.'

‘If you went with her it would mean your being away from Cardinal's Folly for most of the summer.'

‘That can't be helped. In young Jeffson we are lucky in having an excellent bailiff. He is perfectly capable of looking after the herd and the crops without being overseen by Richard.'

‘You would both go, then?'

‘Of course. Except during the war and at other times when it's been imperative, Richard and I have never been separated for more than a few nights since we married. We couldn't bear to be.'

De Richleau nodded thoughtfully. ‘In that case, I shall reconsider the decision I took when I first heard about my strange inheritance. You were right, of course, about it being too great a risk for anyone of my age to go to Ceylon on his own. But it is a lovely island. I'd like to see it again, and heat is good for my old bones. If you and Richard are going, I know you would look after me; so I think I will come with you.'

A sudden smile lit Marie Lou's lovely heart-shaped face. ‘Oh, Greyeyes, we would love you to. We'd be terribly strict in seeing that you did not do too much, and take the greatest care of you.'

Thus, after all these comings and goings, lunch on the terrace was by no means the usual gay and carefree meal.

Fleur, knowing how strongly her parents must disapprove of her engagement, was belligerently on the defensive; while Marie Lou, who had never been good at hiding her feelings, found it difficult to be polite to Douglas. He, sensing her hostility, after one or two attempts to break it down fell almost silent in spite of Richard's rather too obvious attempts to be pleasant to him. The old Duke alone seemed completely at his ease and kept the conversation going on trivialities.

It was not until they were having their coffee that Richard
took the bull by the horns, and said, ‘Well, in view of what took place last night, hadn't we better make some plans? I take it, Douglas, you've no wish to rush things, and would be agreeable to just being engaged to Fleur for the time being.'

‘Certainly, sir,' Rajapakse replied promptly. ‘The last thing I would wish is to hurry Fleur into a marriage of this kind before she has got to know my family and the sort of life we lead.'

At that Fleur's mouth dropped, for he had taken the wind out of her sails.

‘Fine,' said Richard. ‘That's very sensible. Shall we say six months?'

‘No, Daddy!' Fleur shook her head in violent protest. ‘That's absurd. Long engagements went out of fashion ages ago. Besides, I'm twenty-four and not getting any younger.'

De Richleau laughed. ‘That's a terrible age to be, my child. In no time at all you will be pulling out your grey hairs. But, seriously, you are proposing to make your home and live your life in entirely different circumstances from those in which you were brought up. In fairness to your future husband, if to no-one else, you should satisfy yourself that you can make him happy there. To do so I suggest three months would not be unreasonable.'

Fleur hesitated. ‘Well, all right Grandpa. That is provided that no objections are raised to my going with Douglas when he flies home from Rome on the 11th.'

‘I've nothing against that,' Richard declared cheerfully. ‘In fact, your mother and I felt sure you would wish to. The 11th is next Sunday, so we've got the whole week and I shouldn't think there are heavy bookings for Ceylon at this time of year. With luck, there should be places on the same aircraft for all of us. I'll telephone the B.O.A.C. office in Rome this afternoon.'

‘For all of us!' Fleur echoed. ‘But surely …'

‘Yes, dear,' Marie Lou said quickly. ‘You can't have thought we'd let you get married without a proper trousseau, and getting it ready will take several weeks.'

‘That's sweet of you, Mummy. But you say you don't want me to get married for another three months, and assembling a
trousseau won't take all that long. If you came out towards the end of July that would give you time enough.'

‘It was my idea that we should all go out now,' the Duke put in smoothly. ‘In the company of your parents I'll come to no harm. Douglas tells me that my late cousin made quite a fortune mining for precious stones. Parts of Ceylon are very rich in them, you know. We'll all go up to Olenevka and select enough jewels to deck you out like the Queen of Sheba.'

‘Oh, Grandpa!' Fleur's eyes danced with delight. ‘How terribly sweet of you.'

So matters were settled. The remainder of the week passed uneventfully, its halcyon days being all too short for Douglas and Fleur. On Friday the 9th, with the Duke's elderly valet, Max, in attendance, they left for Rome, and they should have taken off from there in the weekly Britannia service on the afternoon of the 11th for Ceylon. But they learned that the flight had been delayed; so they did not, after all, get off from Rome until the Monday morning.