Ryman, Rebecca (37 page)

Despite
the staggering figures, Olivia was not surprised; the act of defiance was
certainly characteristic of Raventhorne's uncaring bravado. "Is that why
there was a price on his head in India?"

"Yes."
It didn't occur to him to question the source of her information.
"Raventhorne has always sailed under an American flag. Since it was only
British ships that were forbidden from entering the Pearl River during the
hostilities, he and others were allowed free passage by our Royal Navy through
their blockade at the mouth of the river. Many American and other captains
acted willingly as our agents to carry our opium through with impunity—for
handsome commissions, of course. Raventhorne
never did. In fact, he blatantly
attacked any ship he could that carried a cargo of opium even though America
was not involved in the War. Can you blame us for baying for his blood?"
For an instant he scowled and then, surprisingly, he broke into quiet chuckles.
"Well, we didn't get it, not a lick, not a drop. Instead, we got the wily
scoundrel as a competitor and a neighbour to continue making our lives a
misery." His chuckles blossomed into hearty laughter. "Oh, I hate his
guts just like everyone else, Miss O'Rourke, but I also have to give the devil
his due. He might be as slippery as a cobra and just as venomous, but what he
doesn't lack is gall. By heavens, he certainly doesn't lack that! And God knows
he does have reason to hate the blasted poppy considering his ..."

He
stopped so suddenly that Olivia was startled. His laughter cut off as if sliced
with a knife and his mouth snapped shut like a clam. Flushing a deep red, he
stood up abruptly.

"Considering
. . . what?" With her heartbeats thundering within her rib cage and her
blood racing, Olivia stubbornly remained seated, refusing to accept this as the
termination of their conversation. "Considering what, Mr. Ransome?"

But
the moment had passed, the revelation—whatever it might have been—aborted. With
a small, awkward laugh, Ransome shrugged and turned bland. "Considering
his knowledge of Canton's opium dens," he said smoothly, then swiftly
turned the topic around. "Josh tells me you yourself have had an encounter
with Raventhorne."

"Yes."
Inwardly Olivia sighed; she knew he would not now reveal to her what he almost
had. She added quickly, too quickly, "The encounter was quite
accidental."

"But
of course!" He looked surprised at her explanation and she blushed.
"What else could it have been? I hope there is no recurrence of the event,
Miss O'Rourke." He looked stern. "Raventhorne is a most unsavoury
character,
most
unsavoury."

It
was a judicious moment to leave and, a little reluctantly, Olivia suggested
that she do so. Outside it was dark and the street was crowded with home-going
carriages. As Ransome courteously saw her to hers and bid her good night, he
coughed and muttered, "I would be grateful if you would not repeat our
conversation to Josh, Miss O'Rourke. As you know, his attitudes to some things
vary greatly with mine."

"No,
of course I will not," Olivia hastened to reassure him, smiling inwardly
at the unlikelihood of such a dialogue with her uncle. Then, once again
emboldened by the oblique reference to
the subject of Raventhorne, she dared
to inquire, "Has there been any further information from Kirtinagar about
the coal proposal?"

"No.
It seems that Arvind Singh is tempted but his friend remains adamant. Since the
capital investment in the mine is mostly Raventhorne's, the matter appears to
have reached an impasse. Our agent informs us that there is much friction
already between the two."

"Friction?"
Olivia tried not to show her dismay.

"So
Das maintains. Now we have to wait and see which Arvind Singh values more, his
irrigation project or his friendship with Jai."

Jai!
Ransome's
use of the first name went unnoticed by him, but it surprised Olivia. Indeed,
it had risen to his lips with such naturalness that it confirmed a suspicion
now taking firm root in her mind: Arthur Ransome knew more than he had chosen
to reveal to her,
much
more! That undertone of sympathy, the lack of
anger with which he appeared to accept Raventhorne's wrongdoings and now the
slip with his first name—yes, they all added up to more than casual knowledge
of the man.

But
for the moment there was neither the time nor the opportunity to make further
inquiries. In any case, Olivia was deeply distressed by the news that
Raventhorne's friendship with Arvind Singh appeared to be in jeopardy. That the
relationship was threatened because of the wretched coal, Olivia saw as a tragedy
of even greater proportions. Love, trust, compassion, companionship—all these
had been denied Jai Raventhorne, either by whimsical fate or by consequences of
his own quirks of character. Could his stars now be so cruel as to also snatch
away the one friend he had? And all because of a business dispute she saw as
absurdly trivial?

Had
Olivia been privileged to hear a discussion taking place between her uncle and
Kashinath Das at precisely the time that she was with Ransome in his office,
she would have perhaps had even greater cause for worry.

"But
then, since the consortium is not willing to increase the offer, you wish to
take your . . . other option?" Das was saying as he stared solemnly at his
English patent-leather shoes. "It would be a simple matter to
arrange."

Sitting
on his bed propped up against a mountain of pillows that he pummelled
frequently to lessen his discomfort, Sir Joshua muttered a curse. "Simple?
Don't be an ass, Kashinath. Nothing you Indians arrange can ever be
simple!
Besides,
we have yet to
receive formal word from Arvind Singh of his refusal." Picking up the
handbell from his bedside table, he rattled it vigorously.

Kashinath
Das waited until Rehman had appeared, taken the order for two glasses of fresh
lime sherbet and withdrawn before he spoke again. "You do not take me
seriously, Sir Joshua, but I have considered all details very carefully."
He raised his eyes without lifting his face, his expression smooth. "Two
of the witnesses will be Englishmen." As Sir Joshua looked at him sharply,
he added, "They will not be known in station. They will be brought from
the mofussil. Neither Arvind Singh nor Slocum will question their credentials.
Several birds can be successfully killed with the same stone."

"And
one, of course, considerably fattened!" Sir Joshua said sarcastically as
he plumped up another pillow, shifted position and winced at the effort.

"Ah,
sir, you do this humble minion an injustice!" Das looked pained. "My
modest commission will be a pittance compared to the benefits your consortium
will derive from the coal." He paused, tilted his head and inquired slyly,
"That is, of course, if you still wish to acquire the coal
. . .?"

Rehman
knocked, entered and set the tray bearing the sherbet glasses by the bedside.
Adding sugar from a bowl on the tray, Sir Joshua handed a glass to Das, then
sat stirring his own thoughtfully. After Rehman had left he hardened. "Oh
yes,
I do still wish to acquire the coal! The option I mentioned to you earlier
is not to be forgotten, by no means. But I am still hopeful that Arvind Singh's
greed will prevail."

"It
will not prevail," Das said sadly. "It will not be allowed to. Funds
for the irrigation project will come from elsewhere."

Anger
suffused Sir Joshua's cheeks as he stared into his sherbet. "From an
Indian consortium? Mooljee, for instance?"

"And
others, I hear. Kala Kanta's own resources are also considerable, let us not
forget that." Inching forward, Kashinath Das boldly helped himself to
another spoonful of sugar, sipped and nodded appreciatively. "For what you
gain, Sir Joshua, should you decide on your remaining option, the risks will be
minimal. You will sever the relationship forever, and the consortium will have
the opening it seeks. Your plan will be welcom—"

"No!"
Sir Joshua reacted sharply. "The consortium will not be involved in the
details, the gutless bunch of pen pushers and clerks!" He snorted with
disgust and shifted position again. "There is still a fatal flaw in the
plan, Kashinath, as I told you. How—"

"Not
how,
Sir Joshua, but
when
—that is the very centre. It will be a
matter of
timing
that removes the flaw." Sir Joshua narrowed his
eyes in inquiry and Das smiled. With an informality few Indians would have
dared in Sir Joshua's presence, he stretched out his stumpy legs, laid his head
back and stared at the ceiling. "On the first night of the Dassera
immersions every year, he is on the river. Alone. He will have no alibi."

Sir
Joshua's heat boils, Estelle's brattish temper, Ransome's grim pronouncements
and her own malaise—the following morning Olivia forgot them all. On a distant
stretch of the river, she was once again surprised by Jai Raventhorne.

"I
did promise we would meet again soon," he grumbled churlishly, "so
why the surprise? Don't you trust me?"

"No!"
She was ecstatic. "Not here, out in the open."

"What,
cold feet already? I thought you considered me worth any fuss your uncle chose
to make! One can either have one's cake or eat it." He signalled a waiting
boatman, handed him the reins to their mounts and then propelled her towards a
small craft. "Not even indomitable American ladies who let their hearts
rule their heads can be allowed both!"

She
didn't answer, too content for retaliation in the immense serenity of the early
morning. Sitting opposite her, Raventhorne rowed in silence, his features
sliding in and out of curling mists that still layered the waters. When they
were midstream and shrouded entirely by patchy vapours, he rested his oars and
sat back.

"Would
you agree that we are satisfactorily cloistered now?"

Olivia
knew that he was still mocking her but she didn't mind. "I guess so."

He
extended his legs so that they stretched under the plank she sat on and crossed
his hands behind his head. "How are the heat boils? Painful I hope?"

"No.
As a matter of fact, getting better." She eyed him irritably. "Why do
you need to be so childish. That remark was beneath contempt."

"Didn't
Ransome enlighten you as to why? I saw your carriage on Clive Street
yesterday."

A
silly little thrill made her erupt in goose bumps. To think
that he should
have been so close without her knowing it! "Is there anything you don't
know?"

"If
there were, how would I keep you in such awe of my espionage system?" He
swung forward to pick up the oars again. "I'm a survivor, remember? Knowledge
is my weapon of survival."

They
were moving again, threading through clouds of haze that loomed above them like
transparent walls of some giant, secret palace inhabited by no one else. The
muted splash of the oars resounded hollowly through their private world,
glimpses of a salmon pink sky the only hint that they were in another world,
too. Raventhorne's knees were so close to Olivia's that if she shifted position
a little they would touch hers. She felt an urge to reach out and rest her
cheek against the pocket beneath which his heart lay; she wanted to be assured
that it was indeed keeping pace with her own, clattering like castanets with
excitement. But she remained unmoving, satisfied to have him captive in her
vision, satisfied to know that at least for the moment he was her prisoner to
do with as she liked. Even in unspeaking silence these snatched moments were
precious; rather than disturb it—and those delicate balances of his mind—Olivia
held her peace.

The
boat again came to a halt. With a sigh—which she chose to believe was one of
shared contentment—Raventhorne lay back again and closed his eyes. "Why
are you staring at me?" he asked after a moment.

With
a jerk, she sat up and looked away. "Apart from your other evil powers,
can you also see with your eyes shut?"

They
opened again. "I don't need eyes to see you, Olivia." Sitting up, he
took her hand and kissed each finger-tip in turn. "You could never hide
yourself from my vision."

The
hand that he retained in his trembled as their fingers entwined; threads of
heat coursed through her veins. In that moment she loved him so completely that
she almost cried out with the pain of it.
Who are you, what are you? Where
did you come from and where will you go...?
For an instant she was
overwhelmed again with the yearning to know him truly, but she restrained
herself. Instead, she asked casually, "Have you seen Kinjal recently? I
dispatched a letter to her last week."