Terror in the Sun Read online

  Because she knew that it was expected of her, Brucena said,

  “It certainly sounds most interesting.”

  “It will be, I promise you.”

  Again in a voice that he intended only for her ears, Lord Rawthorne added,

  “I shall do everything personally to make the entertainment especially delightful for you.”

  She was not surprised that, when it was time to say ‘goodbye’, Lord Rawthorne held her hand far longer than was necessary and looked into her eyes in a manner that she found particularly embarrassing because she was sure that Major Hadleigh had noticed it

  Only when Lord Rawthorne had gone to his own room, escorted by Major Hadleigh, and Brucena was alone with her cousins did she ask in a voice that was almost a whisper,

  “Why do you want to go to Gwalior, Cousin William? I thought you disapproved of the Maharajah.”

  “You took my breath away,” Amelie said, before her husband could reply. “For a moment I thought you must be joking”

  “It’s an opportunity I have wanted for some time,” Captain Sleeman replied. “Always before, when I have entered Gwalior it has been officially in my position as Superintendent for the Suppression of Thuggee. If I go there as the guest of a noble Lord, I may deceive a number of people into being off their guard,”

  “That is what your reason must be,” his wife reacted. “But, William, is it safe? Supposing – ”

  “If it is going to worry you,” William Sleeman said quickly, “then we will stay at home.”

  “No, of course not,” Amelie replied. “I am not as foolish as that. It is just that we have heard such terrible reports of the Maharajah’s behaviour, young though he is, and I believe the way that he treats his benefactor, Baza Bae, defies description.”

  “How can he be so ungrateful after she chose him?” Brucena asked.

  “He is a horrible young man. One of my friends was telling me only the other day how abominably rude he is to the poor woman and that in fact she is frightened because her very life depends on his whim.”

  William Sleeman’s lips tightened and Brucena knew he was thinking that the British Resident should take a firm hand in the matter, but, as there was no point in saying so, they said ‘goodnight’ and went to their bedrooms.

  *

  Brucena was up early. She always was.

  Almost irresistibly, because she hoped against hope that she had been mistaken about the little boy who had haunted her dreams all night, she walked to the end of the garden where she had seen him the morning before.

  She looked over the low hibiscus hedge, wondering if the travellers who had been camped there twenty-four hours earlier would be there again.

  But the place was empty and there were only the marks left on the sandy ground where the children had played.

  She turned away, sick at heart, feeling that if she told Cousin William of her fears about the child, it would be too late now to save him.

  The party of Thugs, if that was what they were, had disappeared and might be anywhere in the Province or perhaps were on their way to Gwalior where they would be safe.

  ‘I should have spoken at once,’ she told herself.

  But it had been difficult if not impossible when they had arrived home, because of Lord Rawthorne’s presence and then darkness had fallen and it would have been impossible to find any particular party of travellers when there must have been so many leaving the town after the market had closed.

  She was just about to walk back to the bungalow when she saw a tall figure coming through the flower-filled garden and knew that it was Lord Rawthorne.

  “A servant told me that I would find you here,” he started. “I was hoping I could persuade you to ride with me this morning.”

  “I thought you were leaving early,” Brucena replied.

  “I am in no hurry to do so now that I have met you.”

  Brucena turned her head aside and he exclaimed,

  “You are beautiful! I suppose many men have told you that. I find you the most beautiful girl I have seen since I left England.”

  “You cannot have looked closely at India or its people,” Brucena pointed out. I find it, although I have seen very little of it as yet – the most beautiful place I have ever seen and the Indian women are like dream-Princesses.”

  “That is exactly what you are,” Lord Rawthorne answered in a low voice, “a dream-Princess that I have seen only in my dreams. But now you are real and I have found you.”

  “You should not be speaking to me like this,” Brucena retorted, beginning to go back along the path towards the bungalow.

  “Who will prevent me?” he enquired. “You will learn, as you get to know me better, that I always say what I think.”

  “Perhaps some thoughts are best kept to one’s self.”

  He laughed.

  “Nonsense. All women like compliments and what I am saying is only the truth and therefore I am quite certain that it is very much more acceptable.”

  He was so conceited, Brucena thought, that she wished she was clever and witty enough to make him look foolish.

  But she could not find the right words and could only walk more swiftly aware that because he was so tall he towered above her and feeling inadequate to cope with a man who wasted no time on the preliminaries of courtship, if that was what this was.

  As if he knew what she was thinking, Lord Rawthorne stopped suddenly and put out his hand to take her by the wrist and prevent her from going any farther.

  “Look at me!” he demanded.

  Because she was so surprised at his behaviour, she did what he asked.

  “I have thought about you all night,” he carried on. “I think you have bewitched me! I find you entrancing and irresistible.”

  He spoke with surprising violence and Brucena would have moved away if he had not been holding on to her wrist.

  “I am afraid, Lord Rawthorne,” she said in what she hoped was an icy voice, “I am Scottish enough not to rush impetuously into friendships, but prefer to take my time to get to know people.”

  “You know it is not friendship I am offering you,” Lord Rawthorne replied, “but if it pleases you, I will play your game for a little while. There is something about you that goes to a man’s head and, combined with this climate, I find it very intoxicating.”

  “Kindly allow me to go back to the house,” Brucena insisted as calmly as she could.

  She struggled to release her wrist, but he held her tightly and she had the frightened feeling that he was about to put his other arm round her when to her relief she saw someone coming towards them and only as she was freed was she aware that it was Major Hadleigh.

  She turned to face him and he said in a voice that she thought uncomfortably had a note of rebuke in it,

  “Your cousin is looking for you, Miss Nairn. You will find him in the breakfast room.”

  “Thank you, Major Hadleigh,” Brucena replied.

  As she spoke, she looked at him and saw an expression in his eyes that made her angry.

  He was obviously condemning and despising her and she told herself that he had absolutely no right to look at her in such a way nor to think that she was in any way to blame for the position that he had found her in.

  Because she was so angry, she ran away from the two men and hurried towards the house, hoping that they would think it was because she did not wish to keep her cousin waiting but knowing that she was really running from an awkward situation.

  It did not in any way assuage her feelings when she discovered that Cousin William was not actually in the breakfast room and had not sent for her.

  Lord Rawthorne stayed the whole of that day and, although Brucena was obliged to speak to him at meals, she managed to keep out of his way at other times.

  She knew that she had no wish to come into contact with him again and so she said to Amelie,

  “I suppose we must go to Gwalior? I am quite happy here and I feel, from all I have heard, that it will be a
horrid place.”

  “You will enjoy it,” Amelie replied, “and William’s troubles and difficulties need not worry you. If his Lordship is to be believed, there will be sports and native dancing. You will enjoy every moment of it.”

  “I suppose so,” Brucena agreed reluctantly.

  “But you will,” Amelie insisted. “The first Festival that I attended when I was at Jubbulpore was the most exciting experience I had ever imagined. It was so beautiful and everyone wore fantastic jewels, even the elephants!”

  She laughed as she added,

  “My two little rows of pearls seemed very insignificant when compared with the Maharajah’s, who has ropes and ropes of them and, of course, necklaces of every other precious stone”

  “I have read stories about the Indian jewels,” Brucena said, “but some of them are unlucky and that is what I felt last night about Lord Rawthorne’s emerald.”

  As she spoke, she wondered if that was the truth.

  Perhaps it was because she disliked him that she had felt that the emerald was evil.

  Then she told herself that jewels did possess strange powers and she was quite certain that she would never wish to own the emerald that Lord Rawthorne was wearing or any other jewels that had ever belonged to the shady Maharajah.

  “Whatever our feelings may be when we are in Gwalior, even if we are shocked by what we see or affronted by what we hear, we must hide them under a veneer of politeness,” Amelie suggested.

  She smiled as she added,

  “The only thing I want to do is to help William. You can have no idea how he has dedicated himself body and soul to this crusade of repressing Thuggee and so far he has been so successful that everyone is amazed at his achievements.”

  “I am sure they are,” Brucena smiled, “and I am certain that he will end up being Knighted for having killed the dragon and you will be ‘my Lady’ and have a fine tiara to wear when you return to England.”

  Amelie laughed and Brucena felt that deep in her shrewd and sensible little French heart was the ambition that one day her husband would be suitably rewarded for his endeavours and the resolve to work in every possible way towards his goal.

  It was with relief that Brucena learnt that Lord Rawthorne intended to leave early in the afternoon so as to start his long journey back to Gwalior.

  “There is no hurry,” he had said when William Sleeman suggested that he should leave before luncheon. “I can travel very swiftly on horseback, which is why I have refused the offer of a carriage for my tour.”

  “Even with horses you should not wish to travel after dark,” William Sleeman warned him.

  Lord Rawthorne laughed somewhat derisively.

  “Still worrying about the Thugs, William? It is so unlikely that they will slip a yellow scarf around my throat.”

  “It is always wise to be forearmed.”

  “I have been,” Lord Rawthorne laughed, “and if I listened to you I should suspect every shadow behind every tree and imagine that there is a Thug waiting to get me! Personally I only see those sort of things after a very thick night!”

  He laughed again uproariously and Brucena wished that she could throw something at him.

  But William Sleeman was apparently quite unperturbed.

  “We will look forward to joining your Lordship in three weeks’ time.”

  “I have changed my mind,” Lord Rawthorne said. “I cannot wait so long. I will get back tonight and shall spend tomorrow making all the preparations for your entertainment that have not been made already and I shall expect you in eight days. I shall be counting every hour eagerly until you appear.”

  He was speaking to William Sleeman, but he was looking at Brucena and she was angry because she felt herself begin to blush.

  He was making his feelings for her far too obvious and while Cousin William apparently did not notice it, she was sure that Major Hadleigh did.

  Because she felt angry, she walked out through the open window onto the verandah and moved along it a little way to stand gazing at the flowers in the garden.

  It was very hot but she found surprisingly that she liked the heat and did not find it oppressive as a great number of other English people did.

  She knew, because it was getting so late in the year, that it was now possible to move about even at midday and in the early afternoon, but otherwise the British usually rose very early and slept after luncheon like all the Indians.

  From where she stood she could see what appeared to be rolled up bundles in the shelter of the shrubs and at the foot of the trees, but it was the gardeners having their siesta.

  This would last for at least two hours and she knew that the rest of the servants in other parts of the bungalow were doing the same.

  She heard footsteps and turned to find Lord Rawthorne advancing towards her.

  “I came to say ‘goodbye’,” he said, “but it is in fact au revoir.”

  “Goodbye, my Lord.”

  “You know how much I want to see you again,” Lord Rawthorne said, covering her right hand with both of his. I have a great deal to say to you and a great deal I want you to say to me. It will be easier in Gwalior, I will see to that.”

  Brucena hoped that he would do nothing of the sort, but she could not say so.

  He looked at her for a long moment and then before she could prevent it he raised her hand to his lips.

  She felt his mouth on her skin and knew that for some reason that she could not explain to herself it made her shiver.

  Then with relief she heard her cousin come out onto the verandah and she was free.

  As Lord Rawthorne rode off with the soldiers of the Gwalior Cavalry behind him, she felt an inexpressible relief that he had gone.

  “Can his Lordship really like the Maharajah and what he has found in Gwalior?” she heard Major Hadleigh ask.

  “He has reasons for his preferences,” William Sleeman answered, “and, as far as I am concerned, he has given me an opportunity I have waited for for some time and I am not prepared to quarrel with him.”

  “No, of course not,” Ian Hadleigh agreed. “At the same time I find him insupportable.”

  ‘So do I,’ Brucena wanted to add.

  Then she remembered the suspicion that she had seen in Major Hadleigh’s eyes and felt angrily that she would not stoop to explain herself.

  ‘Let him think what he likes,’ she thought. ‘He is in his own way almost as unpleasant as Lord Rawthorne.’

  She started to walk along the verandah towards the open window.

  “Where are you going?” William Sleeman asked.

  “To pack my prettiest gowns to dazzle Gwalior,” Brucena answered, “and, of course, the charming Lord Rawthorne!”

  She was speaking sarcastically, but it pleased her to see the sudden anger flash in Major Hadleigh’s eyes and to notice the definite scowl on his face.

  ‘Does he really think that she is infatuated with that conceited popinjay?’ she asked herself. ‘And if he does, how could he be so stupid?’

  There really was quite a lot of packing to do and the maidservants in the bungalow were kept busy pressing Amelie’s and Brucena’s gowns.

  Not for one moment had Brucena regretted the money from her precious store that she had expended on new gowns

  She had read enough about India before she had left England to realise that because of the heat one had to change frequently and she was glad that she had enough gowns at least for the next few months.

  Nevertheless, she was very touched and extremely grateful when Amelie gave her some of her own clothes that she could no longer wear.

  “You will want them again,” Brucena protested. “I cannot take them.”

  Amelie smiled.

  “I will let you in on a secret. My father spoils me and through me he has made a great deal of money while William has received a great deal of credit.”

  Brucena looked curious and she explained,

  “The reason I came to India was that my father
wanted me to spy out the land for him and report to him what I thought of the sugar cane that a certain Captain William Sleeman had imported from Tahiti.”

  She gave a little laugh.

  “Poor William did not know then that the best sugar canes come from Mauritius.”

  She smiled as she went on,

  “I had quite a job convincing him that our canes were far superior to his, but he asked me to bring him some and my father sent him the seeds.”

  She saw Brucena’s interest and went on,

  “I don’t have to tell you the end of the story. The Mauritius sugar cane flourished, William was complimented by the Government for all he has done for agriculture and Papa made a pile of money in the process!”

  Brucena clapped her hands together.

  “What a lovely story and all the more exciting because it’s true.”

  “It was not only the sugar cane that interested him,” Amelie said with a soft note in her voice “From the moment I saw him with his blue eyes and his clever forehead, I felt at once that he was the man I had been looking for all my life.”

  “Did you really fall in love the moment you saw him?” Brucena asked.

  “Not at the first moment,” Amelie admitted truthfully, “but after we had talked together and I realised how different he was from all the young men who had paid me compliments and only wanted to dance, I knew that he was the only man I had ever wanted to marry.”

  “He was very much older than you,” Brucena enquired.

  “Yes,” Amelie agreed. “I was nineteen while he was forty and a confirmed bachelor. But love has nothing to do with age. Love is irresistible and when you find it, my dear, you will understand what I mean.”

  Brucena gave a little sigh.

  “I do hope so, but sometimes I feel I shall never fall in love.”

  Amelie gave a wise little laugh.

  “You will. Suddenly your heart turns upside down, the air is full of music and indeed, once you have found the man who previously was only part of your dreams, the world is never the same again.”

  “I hope I will be as lucky as you,” Brucena sighed.

  She did not sound very optimistic.

  She had the feeling as she spoke that her heart was rather different from Cousin Amelie’s, much more practical and down to earth and, where the French would find romance wherever they looked, she was made of sterner stuff.