The Monsoon (85 page)

“Don’t you dare preach to me, not after what you did to Caroline!” His voice rose to a shriek at her name, and Tom recoiled As though struck in the chest by a musket-ball.

At the same time Guy stepped back, clearly appalled by what he had allowed to slip past his tongue in anger. @ Tom was cast into confusion by the accusation, which had struck home. They stared at each other speechlessly, and in the silence a small sound made them both turn to the door that led in from the garden.

A woman stood there. She was dressed in a pale green dress of Chinese silk, with slashed sleeves and high neck.

Her full skirts covered her ankles and only the toes of her slippers showed. She was staring at Tom as though at her ghost. One hand clutched her throat, the other held

OIAM

the hand of the child who toddled beside her.

What are you doing here, Caroline?” Guy roared.

“You know well that you may not come here when I have O visitors.”

“I heard voices.” Caroline faltered. Her hair was piled high in curls upon her head and ringlets hung down on her cheeks, but Tom saw that she was sallow of countenonce, as though she had recently risen from a sickbed.

“I

heard my name called out.” She was still staring at Tom.

The child was in a smock and ribbons. His head was covered with blond curls and Tom had the impression of an angelic little face and perfect pink lips.

“Who’s that man?” said the infant, and pointed at Tom with a chuckle.

“Take Christopher out of here” Guy shouted at Caroline.

“Immediately!”

Caroline seemed not to have heard him.

“Tom?” she said, in a wondering, bemused tone.

“I never thought to see you again.” Christopher hung on her hand and tried to take an unsteady step towards him, but she pulled him back gently.

“How are you, Tom?”

“In good health,” Tom replied awkwardly, “as I trust you are.”

“I have been ill Caroline whispered, staring at him.

She moistened her lips.

“Since the birth of our-” She paused, blushing and thrown into confusion.

“The birth of Christopher.”

“I am sorry.” A shadow of regret passed over Tom’s

Your family. How are your parents and your sisters?” He had to think of their names.

“Agnes and Sarah?”

“My father was appointed Governor of Bombay. He arranged the post of consul here in Zanzibar for Guy.” She glanced nervously at her husband, who was still glaring at her.

“My mother died of the cholera a year ago.”

“I am so sorry,” Tom interjected.

“She was a delightful lady.”

“Thank you.” Caroline inclined her head sadly.

“My sister Agnes married in Bombay.” WI “But she was so young!” Tom protested, remembering those two tomboy sisters from the Seraph.

“She is no longer a child. She is seventeen,” Caroline corrected him. They were silent again, and Guy sank down into his chair, no longer trying to assert his authority over his wife.

Involuntarily, Tom looked down at the child who clung to Caroline’s skirts.

“He is a beautiful child.” He raised his eyes back to her face.

She nodded, as though to a question that had not been uttered.

“Yes,” she said.

“He is like his father.” Tom had an almost irresistible urge to go to the laughing infant and pick him up.

Instead he stepped back a pace to prevent himself doing so.

“Caroline!” Guy intervened again, even more forcibly.

“I have business to conduct. Please take Christopher away.”

Caroline seemed to droop, and a desperate look came into her eyes as she studied Tom’s face.

“It was good to see you again, Tom.

Perhaps you will be able to visit us while
YOU
are in Zanzibar. Could you come to dine with us here at the consulate one evening?” There was a wistful note in the question.

“I do not think Thomas will be here long enough to make social calls.” Guy came to his feet again, and frowned at her, as if to silence her.

“That is a great pity,” Caroline said.

“Then I will say farewell now.” She picked up the little boy.

“Goodbye, Tom.”

“Goodbye, Caroline.” Carrying Christopher, she went through the door with a swish of silken skirts. The child looked back solemnly over his mother’s shoulder at Tom.

For long after they had gone, both brothers were silent.

Then Guy said, in a controlled, cold voice, “You are to keep away from my family. I will not tolerate you speaking to my wife again. I challenged you to a duel once before. I will again, if you provoke me.”

“It would give me little pleasure to have to kill you.

You were never a swordsman, Guy,” Tom said, and he thought of William. The guilt was still a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“I have no wish to intrude on your private life. From now on, we will touch only on matters of business. Can we agree on that?”

“Distasteful as I find any contact with you, I agree, Guy replied.

“And the first matter of business is for me to repeat my question. Do you intend to indulge in any form of trade in these waters? I have reports from the harbour that your ship is heavily laden. Do you have a trading licence from the Company? Do you carry trade goods?”

“We are eight thousand miles from London. We are beyond the line, sir, and I do not recognize your authority in English law to interfere with me or question my intentions.” Tom kept his temper under control with an effort.

“My first concern is only with Dorian. Have you made enquiry with the Sultan of Zanzibar concerning him?” Guy became agitated.

“I have had no reason to approach the Sultan on the subject, and I forbid you to do so. I have managed to establish cordial relations with him.

He is now favourably inclined towards England and the Company. I do not wish to have that state of affairs disturbed by anyone making accusations against his sovereign lord, Prince alMalik.” Tom’s expression changed abruptly.

“How did you know that alMalik was the one who bought Dorian as a slave? I never mentioned that name.” Guy looked confused, and was silent for many seconds as he searched for a reply.

“AlMalik is the sovereign overlord of this coast. It was natural for me to assume-2

“By God, Guy! It was not natural for you to assume anything! You know something about what has happened to Dorian. If you don’t tell me, I will go to the Sultan myself.”

“You will not!” Guy sprang to his feet.

“I will not have you destroying all my work here.”

“You cannot stop me.”

“Listen to me.” Guy changed his tone.

“Very well, I will tell you the truth. I also heard these rumours about a white boy with red hair in the hands of the Arabs.

Naturally I thought of Dorian, so I made enquiries of the Sultan.

He promised to send a messenger to Prince alMalik to find out the truth. I am waiting to hear from the Prince.”

“Why did you lie to me?

Why did you not tell me this at once?” Tom demanded.

“Why did I have to force it out of you?”

“Because I know you well. I did not want you rushing in and antagonizing the Sultan. My dealings with him are very sensitive.”

“How long ago did you make these enquiries?” Tom demanded.

“I want you to keep out of this.” Guy sidestepped the question in spite of Tom’s insistence.

“I have the whole business in my own hands.”

“How long ago?”

“Some time ago.” Guy looked down at his desk.

“Dealings with the Arabs take time.”

“When?” Tom came to him and thrust his face to Guy’s.

“When I first arrived here on the island,” Guy admitted.

“A year a2o.”

“A year ago?” Tom shouted.

“A year ago! Well, believe me, I will not wait that long. I will go to the Sultan this very day, and demand an answer.”

“I forbid it!” Guy cried.

“I am the consul!”

“Forbid all you will, Guy,” Tom told him grimly.

“I am on my way now to the fort.”

“I will send a full report of your behaviour to Lord Childs in London,” Guy threatened desperately.

“The Company ship in the harbour now will sail within days for England. Lord Childs will bring the full wrath of the Company down upon you.”

“There is no threat you can make that will stop me searching for Dorian. Send all the reports you wish, Guy, but it will be a year and more before you receive a reply.

By then I will be a thousand miles away, with Dorian in my care.”

“Leave this house at once, sir!” Guy shouted.

“And don’t dare set foot on my threshold again.”

“That is an invitation very much to-my taste, sir. “Tom crammed his hat back onto his head.

“I wish you good morrow He strode to the door without looking back, and smiled as Guy yelled after him, “I forbid you to go near the Sultan@s palace. I shall send word to him at once that you are an interloper and do not have the protection of His Majesty, the Company, or this office.” Tom strode back along the sandy path towards the harbour, and Aboli had to step out to keep up with him. Aboli had had no reply to his initial questions so he was silent as he followed Tom.

Tom was in a black rage. He wanted to storm into the Sultan’s fort above the harbour, take the heathen swine by the throat and choke the answers out of him. But he was at least able to recognize that his emotions were out of control, that once again he was on the verge of committing some violent act that could bring disaster on his enterprise.

I must get back on board the Swallow where I can do no more harm to myself, and talk to Aboli and Ned before I act, he told himself, but his hand strayed to the hilt of the blue Neptune sword, and his anger flew off on another tack. By God! If, to save Dorian, I have to take the little Swallow in against the whole Mussulman fleet, I will not flinch.

There was a shout behind him, so faint that at first it did not penetrate his rage. Then there was the sound of galloping hoofs and the shout came again.

“Tom! Wait!

Wait for me! I must talk to you.” Tom swung round and glared back down the track.

The horse came racing towards him, the rider leaning low on its neck, white sand spurting from under the hoofs.

“Tom!” This time he realized that it was a woman’s voice. As the horse came closer he saw skirts billowing out behind and long hair blowing on the wind. His rage was forgotten in an instant, and he stared at her in astonishment.

She was riding astride and bareback, and he saw the flash of pale legs gripping the horse’s flanks, naked to well above the knees where her skirts had tucked up. She lifted one slim arm and waved at him.

“Tom!” Despite her use of his Christian name, he did not recognize her. She brought the bay mare to a plunging halt beside where he stood, and in a rustle of skirts swung down to the ground. She tossed the reins to Aboli.

“Hold her, please, Aboli,” she said. The big man roused himself from his shock, and grabbed the reins.

“Tom! Oh, Tom!” The strange girl ran to him, and threw her arms around his neck. I thought I would never see you again.” She hugged him tightly, then stepped back and seized both his hands.

“Let me look at you.” She stared into his face, and he stared back.

Her long hair was a soft brown, but her face was not beautiful the jaw too strong, her mouth too wide, especially when she smiled, as she was now. Her eyes were bright English blue, sparkling at him through long lashes.

He saw at once that her skin was her main ornament. It was without blemish, but lightly touched by the tropical sun to an unfashionable golden brown. She was almost as tall as he was, her eyes looking straight into his, and she held herself easily and confidently with a boyish thrust of the hips and set of the shoulders.

“You don’t recognize me, do you, Tom?” She laughed at him.

He shook his head dumbly. He found her face riveting, her eyes full of fun and alive with intelligence.

“Forgive me, madam,” he faltered.

“You have me at a disadvantage.”

“Madam indeed!” she chided him.

“I am Sarah.” She shook his hands.

“Sarah Beatty, Caroline’s little sister. You used to call me the gadfly.

“Why are you always buzzing around my head like a gadfly, Sarah?”” she mimicked.

“Now do you remember?”

“Sweet heavens, how you have changed!” he exclaimed in astonishment and, despite himself, looked down at the shapely swell of full breasts under her bodice.

“As you have, Tom. What happened to your nose?” He touched the end in embarrassment.

“It was broken.”

“Poor Tom.” She made a face of mock sympathy.

“But it suits you well enough. Oh, Tom, it’s so good to see you.” She linked her arm through his and led him down the track towards the town. Aboli fell in behind them at a respectful distance.

“I heard your voice when you were shouting at Guy. I could not believe it was yours, although I recognized it immediately.” She gave him a roguish sideways glance.

“So I listened outside the door. Guy would have beaten me if he had caught me at it.”

“Does he beat you?”

Tom bristled protectively.

“We will see to that.”

“Oh, shush, don’t be a booby. I can look after myself But let’s not waste time talking of Guy. I can only stay a moment. They will miss me, and send the servants to look for me.”

“Sarah, there is so much we have to discuss.”

Tom felt strangely bereft at the thought of parting from her so soon.

Her arm through his was strong and warm. There was a light fragrance around her, like an aura, that stirred something deep inside him.

“I know. I heard you talking to Guy about little Dorian.

We all loved Dorian. I want to help you.” She thought quickly.

“There is an old ruined Jesuit monastery near the south point of the island. I will meet you there tomorrow, at two bells in the afternoon watch.” She laughed at him”

“You see? I remember all the sailor’s things you taught me Will you be there?”

“Of course.” She released his arm, turned back to Aboli and embraced him.

“Do you remember how we used to play horsey, Aboli? You carried me on your back.” A smile lit Aboli’s face, transforming it.