Moon Over Eden (Bantam Series No. 37) Read online

  He was bare-headed, and in his riding-breeches he looked young, slim and athletic—very different indeed from his nephew.

  Dominica knew that he too must have found it impossible to sleep and so he was riding alone, perhaps to inspect his tea-plants or perhaps in search of Lakshman.

  At the thought of Seetha and her tragedy Dominica shuddered.

  It was hard to think of what she must have suffered before she had thrown herself down the raging torrent to die, on the stones which must have been hidden in the mist, even as they were now.

  Because she felt her thoughts were morbid Dominica picked up the wrapper which Madame Fernando had included in her trousseau, put it on over the nightgown and tied the sash of it round her waist.

  Made of muslin, it was inset with lace and decorated with bows of turquoise-blue ribbon.

  It was so attractive and so feminine with lace frills frothing around the hem that Dominica felt it was almost too grand to be worn in a bedroom.

  Then as she looked around her she realised that it was in fact in perfect harmony with her surroundings.

  It had been difficult last night because she was so confused and shy at meeting Gerald Warren to notice the house properly, and yet she had been aware that it was all in exquisite taste such as she had not expected a man might show in furnishings, even if he was proficient at building.

  Now she had a confused remembrance of furniture made of the dark ebony which was one of the most prized woods of the Ceylonese cabinet-makers, and there had also been furniture in satin-wood from the magnificent trees which were found all over the island.

  In her bedroom now she saw a chest of calamanda which was stronger and finer than rosewood, and another of nedun which was highly prized by craftsmen.

  The bedroom was lovely and she had learnt when she arrived that all the rooms were known by the names of flowers.

  “Where is Dominica sleeping?” Lord Hawkston had enquired of his nephew.

  “I told the servants to put her in the ‘White Lotus Room’,” Gerald replied, “and you are in the one nearby, which I believe you call the ‘Red Lotus’.”

  He spoke in a somewhat contemptuous manner as if he thought such ideas were ridiculous. But Dominica could understand.

  The giant lotus which was red or white was so supremely magnificent that it was easy to understand the reverence the people of the East had for this superlative flower.

  A Botanist had told Dominica that the Hindus believed that the lotus was there before Creation itself and that from its serene perfection all things sprang.

  He had shown her the giant lotus and Dominica had seen that the red variety was like a deep red rose reclining on a platform of green floating leaves.

  “I have seen vast lakes in the Plains,” the Botanist had said, “where no man has ever been, and they have been covered with the lotus, both red and white, which is the flower of Buddha, and on which so many of his statues rest.”

  Dominica was sure now that Lord Hawkston had known this when he designed her bedroom.

  The carpet was of deep green like the flat leaves, and the back of the bed was carved like the petals of a lotus and painted white just faintly tinged with pink.

  The walls were white tinged with pink where they met the ceiling. The curtains, of textiles blocked and hand-woven by native craftsmen, had the pattern of the lotus woven into them.

  They were very lovely, as was the one picture on a wall which depicted the Buddha surrounded by lotus-buds just bursting into flower.

  It was exquisitely painted and as Dominica looked at it she felt that its beauty vibrated within herself and aroused in her the same feelings that were evoked when she listened to music.

  Because she felt unaccountably moved she walked again to the window to look out over the garden wondering if she would see Lord Hawkston again.

  But there was only the sunshine now shimmering on the lake and on the cascade and making the brilliance of the flowers in the garden seem even more vivid.

  “It is as if one could see them actually growing in the sunshine,” Dominica said to herself.

  She looked at the flowers and then again at the valley where the mists were dispersing, for so long that she realised time was getting on and she should dress.

  There was a bathroom opening out of her bedroom and after she had washed she put on one of the attractive thin muslin gowns that Madame Fernando had called ‘her simple dresses’.

  They were not simple in Dominica’s eyes but she knew they were becoming, and because she wanted to look her best she dressed her hair in a new way, letting it wave softly round her cheeks, then sweeping it backwards in a thick plait that reached from her neck up the very centre of her head.

  It was an easy method with which to dispose of so much hair. At the same time she knew it gave her extra height and was becoming.

  She had just finished dressing when there came a knock at the door.

  “Come in!” she said.

  A servant entered, carrying a tray on which reposed a small pot of tea, a cup and a jug of milk.

  “Good-morning, Nona,” the servant said, using what Dominica knew was the Portuguese word for ‘Madam’.

  “Good-morning,” she replied.

  “You early, Nona,” the servant remarked with a smile. “I bring tea, but breakfast ready on verandah.”

  “Then I will have my tea there,” Dominica said with a smile.

  She allowed the servant to show her the way to the broad verandah outside the dining-room where breakfast was laid on a table covered with a white linen cloth.

  There was no sign of Lord Hawkston or Gerald and Dominica wondered if she should wait for them.

  But the servants had other ideas. They poured out her tea and brought her a slice of pawpaw with which to start the meal.

  Because they obviously expected it Dominica began to eat, but slowly, hoping Lord Hawkston would appear.

  She had not taken more than a few mouthfuls when round the house from the direction of the lake Gerald appeared. He had been swimming and was wearing only shorts and was bare above the waist.

  Dominica blushed.

  She had never before seen a white man half naked and she could not help thinking that Gerald looked extremely unprepossessing.

  His wet hair was falling over his forehead, his body, fat, hairy and with a decided paunch, was sunburnt in red patches.

  He carried a large white towel in his hand and Dominica wondered why he did not cover himself with it.

  “Good-morning, Dominica,” he said in a loud voice as he drew nearer. “You’re early! I expected that you would be tired this morning.”

  Dominica rose to her feet a little nervously at his approach.

  “I am used to rising early.”

  “Sit down and get on with your breakfast,” Gerald said. “I’ll put on a robe and join you in a second.”

  He walked into the house through an open window and Dominica sat down again.

  She could not help noting that his eyes were bloodshot and his face appeared even more puffy than it had the night before.

  She sipped her tea, but somehow she no longer felt hungry.

  He returned within a few minutes wearing a long white towelling gown which fastened across his chest, but his neck was bare, and although he had brushed back his hair from his forehead, he still looked unpleasant in Dominica’s eyes.

  She had a feeling that her father would be shocked at the thought of her sitting down to breakfast with a man wearing nothing but a robe, and yet she could not deny that it covered him, and she told herself it was wrong to criticise or expect those who lived in the wilds of the country to be anything but free and easy.

  “Coffee, Sinna Durai?” a servant asked at Gerald’s elbow. He hesitated, then enquired:

  “Where’s the Juggernaut?”

  Dominica looked at him in surprise.

  “That’s a good description of my Uncle,” he explained as she did not understand. “But if you prefer i
t, where is the Boss?”

  “I saw him go riding some time ago,” Dominica answered. She thought it was extremely bad taste for Gerald to refer to his Uncle in such a manner in front of the servants.

  “In which case,” Gerald said to the servant, “I’ll have a whisky—and bring it quickly!”

  Dominica could not help staring at him in surprise. She had never imagined that anyone would want to drink whisky at breakfast.

  As if he was aware of her astonishment Gerald said: “Might as well indulge myself while I can. Do you know what His Lordship proposed last night?”

  “I have no ... idea,” Dominica said faintly.

  “He told me I had to sign the pledge! Well, I can tell you that if I do, it will be with my fingers crossed and so my oath, or vow, or whatever it is I take, will mean nothing!”

  “You mean you will ... lie to him?” Dominica enquired.

  “Now don’t you start!” Gerald exclaimed. “I’ve had enough preaching for the moment.”

  The whisky was put down at his side and he drank half the tumbler off in one gulp.

  “That’s better!” he said with a sigh. “Now it’ll be easier for you and me to have a talk.”

  Dominica looked at him apprehensively.

  She felt it was hardly the moment for them to talk with two servants in attendance.

  But Gerald ignored them as if they were not there, only waving away with a disdainful hand the pawpaw when it was offered to him and looking with a jaundiced eye at a plate of bacon and eggs which was set down in its place.

  “If we have to live in this dead-and-alive hole,” he said after a moment, “you and I might as well enjoy ourselves. If my skinflint Uncle gives us enough money, it’s easy to have a bit of fun in Kandy. It’s not as good as Colombo, mind you, but they’ve opened up a decent Club this last year, and there are a few convivial people.”

  “Will you not have to ... work on the plantation?” Dominica asked tentatively.

  “Not if I can help it!” Gerald answered with one of his raucous laughs. “Of course I shall put on a good show of being interested until the Boss returns to England. I don’t suppose he’ll stay long anyway after we are married. At least, I hope not!”

  Dominica gripped her fingers together in her lap.

  It was not only what Gerald said that was so distressing, but the way he said it. There was something rough and contemptuous in his voice; something which told her that he hated his Uncle, just as he hated this beautiful house and the exquisite valley in which it was situated.

  She tried to visualise to herself what he meant by ‘a bit of fun’ and only knew instinctively that it was everything she would dislike.

  Because she felt she must say something she asked in a low voice:

  “Are there any concerts in Kandy? Is anyone interested in music?”

  “I shouldn’t think so,” Gerald replied. “Not unless you mean the type of music one has at a dance. They have one every Saturday night and although the boys get a bit rough the girls have fun! There are plenty of opportunities for a cuddle or a kiss in the garden of the Club in the moonlight. Romantic, and all that sort of thing. You’ll enjoy it.”

  Dominica drew in her breath.

  There was really nothing she could say and she felt as if her brain had gone blank.

  Gerald took another swig at his whisky, finishing the glass. He snapped his fingers and a servant replaced it with a full tumbler.

  He drank and looked at Dominica as he did so.

  “I dare say there are a lot of things I’ll have to teach you,” he said after a moment, his eyes on her face. “But you’ll learn. Women learn quickly. I’ve a feeling we are going to enjoy ourselves—you and I!”

  There was something in the way he spoke, something in the expression in his face, which made Dominica feel as if a cobra had suddenly appeared beside her.

  Every nerve in her body shrank from him. Even as she longed to run away and yet was afraid to move, she heard a step on the verandah and looked up to see Lord Hawkston approaching them.

  She was aware, as a wave of relief swept through her, that Gerald, finishing his whisky in one gulp, had handed the empty glass to a servant who whisked it out of sight in a surreptitious manner.

  To Dominica it was degrading that they should contrive together to deceive the owner of the house.

  If he noticed what occurred Lord Hawkston showed no sign of it.

  He had, Dominica saw, changed his shirt since coming in from riding and wore a tie. He was without a coat but his cuffs were fastened at the wrist with gold links.

  “Good-morning, Dominica!” he said in his quiet deep voice which made her sense of panic subside just because he was there. “Good-morning, Gerald! I see you have been swimming.”

  “Of course,” Gerald replied. “It’s good for the figure!”

  “I think you would find it even better exercise if you rode some of the horses in the stable,” Lord Hawkston said. “They are under-exercised.”

  Gerald did not reply. He merely looked sulky.

  A servant brought Lord Hawkston tea. As he sipped it he said to Dominica:

  “It always gives me a sense of satisfaction which is hard to explain in words when I drink my own tea, seated on my own verandah, overlooking my own valley.”

  “I can understand that,” Dominica said with a smile. “And the fact that you are drinking your own tea is more important than anything else.”

  “It was certainly the foundation-stone,” Lord Hawkston said. “Did you sleep well?”

  Dominica had no wish to tell the truth, but the habit of a life-time made it impossible to lie.

  “I had ... a lot to think about,” she said apologetically, “and of course I found it... exciting being here.”

  She felt this sounded rather inadequate and added: “The garden is lovely! I have never seen such beautiful flowers!”

  “It was lovely,” Lord Hawkston said in a low voice, then looking at Gerald he went on: “Need I ask what happened to the gardeners whom I trained with such care?”

  “I couldn’t afford them!” Gerald replied. “And really, who wants a garden?”

  “I do, for one,” Lord Hawkston said firmly.

  “I can see how many flowers you must have brought here from other countries,” Dominica interposed quickly. “But perhaps because I have always lived in Ceylon, I like our own flowers the best.”

  “The orchids and magnolias,” Lord Hawkston smiled. “And of course the lotus.”

  “They are growing—or they were,” Lord Hawkston said, “on a pool that I made on the other side of the house, I will show it to you, but it will be disappointing if the lotuses are no longer there.”

  “It will indeed,” Dominica agreed. “And my bedroom is beautiful!”

  “The ‘White Lotus Room’,” Lord Hawkston said as if to himself. “I was fortunate in finding craftsmen who could really carve. I must show you the bedrooms on the next floor. The ‘Palm Room’, where they copied the Areca Palms, is, in my opinion, unique.”

  “I would love to see it,” Dominica exclaimed.

  “I think before we do anything else,” Lord Hawkston said, looking at his nephew, “we should pay a visit to the plantation. I want you to show me, Gerald, the work that has been done and any innovations that have been put in hand these last two years.”

  “I expect you’ll find it’s just as you left it,” Gerald answered.

  “I hope so,” Lord Hawkston replied. “If you will get dressed I will order the horses. Dominica can come with us. She has ridden in the past and will find the horse I rode this morning not too obstreperous now that I have exercised him.”

  Dominica looked at him anxiously.

  “I do not want to be in the way.”

  “You will not be,” Lord Hawkston replied. “Put on your habit. We ordered a light one from Madame Fernando and now is the right moment to try it out.”

  Dominica flashed him a smile and ran to her bedroom.

&nb
sp; She had been afraid when she heard Lord Hawkston making his plans that she would be left behind, but now he was taking her with them and her heart was singing with excitement at the thought of seeing the plantation that meant so much to him.

  It only took her a few minutes to take off her muslin gown and put on an attractive habit which Madame Fernando had made her in pink cotton decorated with white braid.

  There was a straw hat to wear with it and Dominica was glad to find she was ready quicker than Gerald and that Lord Hawkston was waiting alone in the Hall when she joined him.

  “You will not be afraid to ride?” he asked as she appeared. “I promise you that the horse I rode this morning is really quite a peaceful animal.”

  “I do not think I have forgotten how to ride, even though it was five years ago since I last did so,” Dominica answered.

  “I think it is something one never forgets,” Lord Hawkston said reassuringly.

  They walked outside the house as they were speaking to find the horses waiting for them.

  Lord Hawkston lifted Dominica into the saddle.

  She had a strange feeling as he put his hands on her waist that she could not explain to herself.

  She only knew that it was there and that she wanted to ride well so that he would be proud of her.

  She picked up the reins and he smiled encouragingly.

  “I see you have not forgotten.”

  “I hope I shall not disgrace myself.”

  “You could never do that.”

  She was looking down at him because she was seated on the horse and he was standing beside her.

  She realised perhaps for the first time that his eyes were very deep blue. It seemed to her they were even more vivid because already his skin seemed to have tanned a little.

  Her eyes looked into his. Then Lord Hawkston looked away.

  “Are you sure the stirrup is the right length?” he asked, and Dominica had difficulty in understanding what he said.