The Tea Planter’s Wife (35 page)

Gwen raised her brows and shrugged. ‘In a shop in Colombo, believe it or not. I can’t prove it but I suspect Verity took it.’

‘But why?’

‘I don’t know. To cause trouble perhaps. Who knows why Verity does anything?’

‘Well, never mind. I am just so happy to have it back. Thank you. Thank you. But why didn’t you go to Savi’s exhibition?’

‘I had a headache. In the end Laurence stayed with me.’

‘Savi thinks you’ve been avoiding him. Did he do something to upset you, Gwennie?’

Gwen swallowed and walked over to lean out of the window, but didn’t reply.

The following morning, a large brown parcel arrived for Laurence and now sat on the hall table, next to the ornamental ferns, waiting for his attention. Gwen thought he might not even have seen it, so picked it up and examined what looked like English postal stamps, though they had been so heavily rubber-stamped in Colombo, and wherever else it had passed through, she couldn’t be sure. Curious, she carried it to their sitting room and handed it to Laurence.

He got up from his chair, took the parcel with a nod and turned towards the door.

‘What is it, Laurence? It’s quite heavy.’

He glanced back but carried on walking. ‘I haven’t opened it yet.’

‘But do you know who it might be from?’

‘No idea.’

‘Why not open it now?’

He coughed. ‘Gwen, I am busy. I have business to attend to in my study. It’s probably something to do with tea.’

Perhaps it was his curt tone of voice, but suddenly she could not bear it. ‘Why didn’t you tell me Christina was still in love with you?’

He frowned, one hand on the door handle. It was just a moment of silence but it felt longer.

‘Gwen, my love, I’ve told you many times. Christina and I are long over.’

She chewed her cheek as he left the room, then looked out at the lake. She had wanted more reassurance than that.

Fran had gone for a long walk and didn’t appear for lunch, so after Hugh went for his rest, Gwen decided it was time to tell Laurence about Fran’s marriage to Savi Ravasinghe. He’d spent all morning enclosed in his study and the night before he had been out, so this was her first opportunity. She was surprised when he took the news in a better spirit than she’d expected, though he seemed preoccupied and she wondered if something else was bothering him.

It didn’t matter if Savi was not a welcome guest at their home; in fact, Gwen preferred it to stay that way. Fran said that the bright airy flat he owned in Cinnamon Gardens, in Colombo, was where she had stayed during her first trip to Ceylon in 1925. Since then, their affair had been on and off, during which time both had continued to see other people. Though she would have loved Fran to be living in Ceylon, Gwen couldn’t help feeling it would be better all round if they were as far away as possible.

She was lying on her bed thinking about it, when Naveena wheeled Liyoni through. It had become a habit for Naveena to bring Liyoni to her while the household was at rest. She lifted the child from the chair and placed her beside Gwen on the bed, then left the room. It was the one precious hour a day that they had alone together, and Gwen treasured it.

She began by reading Liyoni a story. She was working her way through all the fairy tales they had in the house; though Liyoni didn’t speak much, she understood a great deal, and when Gwen picked up the book of Andersen’s tales that Verity had once suggested for Hugh, Liyoni asked her to put it down.

‘I like you speaking the story, Lady.’

‘Once upon a time,’ she said as she cast around in her mind for today’s tale, ‘there was a wicked stepmother.’

The child giggled and snuggled closer. Gwen brushed the hair from her daughter’s face and gazed at her. She swallowed hard and carried on.

Gwen usually locked the door and made sure that she didn’t fall asleep. Today she was so tired from the strain of worrying about Verity’s threat that she hadn’t remembered. She was thinking of getting up to do it when Liyoni fell asleep, and then she drifted too.

She woke to hear a knock on her door and, before she was able to answer, Fran had come in. She stopped just inside the door and stared in surprise.

Gwen stared back.

‘Gwennie, is that the ayah’s sick relative in bed with you?’

Her cousin’s voice sounded awkward, and Gwen, struggling with her feelings, felt her eyes moisten but couldn’t speak. She was unable to lie to Fran.

Fran came across and, with a puzzled expression, gazed down at the little girl. ‘She’s very beautiful.’

Gwen nodded.

Fran sat on the side of the bed and leant sideways to look in Gwen’s face. ‘What’s going on, darling? Why won’t you tell me what the matter is?’

A lump came in Gwen’s throat and she lowered her head, staring at the satin bedcover until it blurred.

‘Is it really so awful?’

There was a stretch of silence that went on too long.

‘I will tell you,’ Gwen eventually said as she looked up and brought her knees up to her chest. ‘But you must promise not to say a word, not to anyone.’

Fran nodded.

‘Liyoni is not a relative of the ayah.’

For a moment more Gwen struggled with her thoughts, until
the urge to unburden herself took over and the words came rushing out.

‘She is my daughter.’

Fran gazed at her. ‘When I saw how beautiful she was, I think I had an inkling. But, Gwen, who is the father? It can’t be Laurence.’

Gwen shook her head. ‘No, but she is Hugh’s twin.’

‘Darling?’

Gwen felt a lump come in her throat.

‘I don’t understand,’ Fran said.

‘I can’t tell you any more. I would have before, but not now that you’re …’

There was a moment’s ghastly silence.

Then, with an appalled expression on her face, Fran’s eyes widened. ‘Oh dear God. It’s not Savi? Surely that isn’t what you’re concealing?’

Gwen bit her lip and saw the colour drain from Fran’s face as she rubbed her forehead in shock.

‘I can’t believe you slept with Savi.’

They stared at each other and, when Gwen saw the judgement in Fran’s eyes, her voice shook. ‘It isn’t what you think.’

‘Does Savi know about the child?’

‘Of course not. But please, Fran, it was before you two got together.’

Fran shook her head in disbelief. ‘But what about Laurence? How could you do that to him?’

Gwen’s eyes grew hot with tears. ‘I wish I hadn’t said anything. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know how it happened. I just can’t remember.’

Fran frowned and paced around the room, rubbing her wrists. There was a long pause during which neither spoke.

‘Fran? I know you’re angry, but please say something.’

‘I just can’t believe it.’

‘I can’t remember anything about it.’ Gwen hung her head for a moment then glanced at Fran as she spoke. ‘It was at that first
ball after we danced the Charleston. I was terribly drunk. Savi helped me upstairs and I remember he stayed for a while, but what he did to me after that I don’t remember.’

Fran’s hand flew to her chest and she froze on the spot, her face rigid. ‘Jesus, Gwen! Do you realize what you’re accusing him of?’

‘I’m sorry.’

The skin bunched round Fran’s eyes and her face reddened as she headed for the door. ‘You’re wrong. Completely wrong. Savi would never do a thing like that.’

Gwen reached out a hand. ‘Don’t go. Please don’t go.’

‘How can I stay? He’s my husband. How could you?!’

‘I need you.’

Fran shook her head but remained standing by the door.

‘I don’t even know if it’s possible for there to be two fathers,’ Gwen said.

There was a long stretch of silence.

‘It is possible,’ Fran said in a small, tight voice.

‘How do you know?’

‘I read something about it.’

Gwen gazed at her.

‘It was a case where a woman had twins, by two different fathers, somewhere in the West Indies or Africa. It was in all the newspapers.’

Tears began to slide down Gwen’s cheeks.

‘Didn’t you talk to Savi?’ Fran said. ‘At the time, I mean. Didn’t you want to know exactly what had happened?’

Gwen wiped her eyes and sniffed. ‘I didn’t think anything
had
happened, at the time. It was only when the twins were born and I saw that Liyoni wasn’t white. I had to decide what to do about Liyoni immediately. How could I confront Savi about it, so long afterwards?’

‘I would have.’

‘I’m not you.’

‘And so all these years you’ve assumed such a terrible thing about a decent man, when there has to be another explanation?’

‘I had hidden the child away. What difference would it have made? In fact, it might have made things worse. If I had spoken to Savi he might have told Christina, and before long Laurence would have known too.’

‘It would have settled your mind.’

‘Anyway, even if I had confronted him, he could have lied about it.’

Fran’s face twisted in anger. ‘So now he’s a liar too?’

Gwen shivered and bowed her head for a moment. ‘I’m so sorry.’

As Fran rubbed her hands together and took a few steps towards Gwen, her eyes were moist. ‘Look, I know Savi. Sleeping with a drunk or senseless woman is not him. He may have had affairs, but he has morals.’

Gwen opened her mouth to speak.

Fran held up a hand. ‘Hear me out. I know his morals may not be the same as yours, but he has them. In any case, I spent half that night talking to him, the night of the ball, Gwennie, after you’d gone to sleep. Do you really think he would have done that to you and then spent time with me? No. Believe me, it can’t have been Savi. He’s sensitive to women, that’s why we like him.’

‘So what then?’

‘So if we discount Savi – and we must, Gwen, we really must – how did this actually happen?’

Liyoni coughed and Gwen put a finger to her lips. ‘Don’t wake her.’

Fran continued speaking in a whisper. ‘There has to have been some colour in the bloodline. It’s the only answer.’

Gwen felt her heart lift and gave a shaky laugh. ‘Do you really think so? Is it possible?’

‘Yes.’

Gwen thought about it for a moment. ‘I did find an article in a magazine in New York, all about the interbreeding between black slaves and white plantation owners in America.’

‘Well, it can skip a generation or two. People don’t like to
admit it. The British try to pass it off as continental ancestry or they hide the person away.’

Gwen gave her cousin a weak smile. ‘Oh, Fran, I hope you’re right. But surely I’d have heard something about it if it was true?’

‘Maybe, maybe not … but I do wish you’d confided in me sooner, or told somebody.’

‘Everyone would have assumed an affair, just like you did at first. People would never have accepted the child.’

‘I jumped to the wrong conclusion. I’m sorry.’

‘Exactly, and so would everyone. It would destroy Laurence if he believed I’d slept with another man, especially so soon after we married.’

‘Nevertheless, something in the blood has to be the answer. We both know there is nothing in
our
family to explain this.’

Gwen sighed. ‘Do we?’

Fran put her head on one side and a thoughtful look came into her eyes. ‘When I go back to England, I’ll do all I can to find out.’

Gwen checked her cousin’s face for doubt. ‘But you still believe it has come from Laurence’s side?’

‘I don’t know. What I think is that you have to talk to him.’

‘I can’t. Not without evidence. I’ve already said that he’d believe I’d had an affair. He’d never forgive me.’

‘You don’t have much faith in his love for you, do you?’

Gwen thought about it. ‘He loves me. It’s just the way things are here. The shame. The disgrace. It would be the end of us as a family. I’d lose him, I’d lose my home and I’d lose my son.’

She swallowed hard and Fran leant over to hug her.

‘There’s something else.’

‘Take your time.’

She gulped and fought back tears. ‘Verity has guessed and is threatening to tell Laurence if I don’t persuade him to reinstate her allowance.’

‘Good God, that’s blackmail. She’ll have you where she has always wanted you. If you give in, there will be more demands. It won’t stop, Gwennie. You’ll live in fear of the wretched woman
for the rest of your life.’ Fran got up and threw open the window. ‘Lord, I need air.’

‘Has it started raining?’

‘It’s blowy. But you’ve been cooped up inside for too long. You’re terribly pale. We both need fresh air. Forget about it for now. Let’s do something. A walk. You, me, Hugh and his sister in her chair. I take it Hugh and Liyoni have no idea?’

The little girl began to cough again, this time waking up, and as Gwen murmured to her and felt her forehead, she thought about what Fran had said. Her cousin was right: the only thing she could possibly do was to talk to Laurence before Verity did. But without proof to back up the idea, the thought of doing it made her head spin.

A few days later, just as they were finishing breakfast, the first package of tea arrived. Laurence unwrapped the parcel then held it up for them to see. It looked even more stunning on the packet than it had at the design stage.

‘I think your husband’s artwork has transferred well to the packet,’ he said, looking at Fran. ‘I hope we might see him here for supper in due course.’

Gwen and Fran exchanged surprised looks.

‘Thank you, Laurence,’ Fran said. ‘I really appreciate that. I know –’

Laurence held up his hand. ‘I shall be happy to welcome Mr Ravasinghe to our home. I’m sorry we missed his exhibition in New York. We shall make every effort to attend the next, wherever it is, won’t we, Gwen?’

She managed to smile, but felt confused. Why had his attitude towards Savi changed so unexpectedly, especially as he still seemed so subdued?

After breakfast Laurence suggested a walk, while the rain held off. ‘I’ll meet you at the front of the house,’ he said to Gwen.

First Gwen prepared herself, then went to the nursery and found Liyoni sitting up in bed, drawing a waterfall.

‘She cannot draw for long,’ Naveena said. ‘But she did stand up for ten minutes to look at the lake.’