Ryman, Rebecca (97 page)

"There
is something more I have to say, another small example of—"

"No,
Estelle!
Maybe tomorrow morning." Her effort at pretences had worn her out; she
could not take anymore, not tonight!

"Now,
Olivia!
Tomorrow there will be no time." In her final bid to move her unyielding
cousin, Estelle too was determined. She put a restraining hand on Olivia's arm
to stop her from leaving. "During those days of my imprisonment in the
master cabin, I discovered something. As you must know, Jai has no interest in
possessions. Like his Chitpur house, the cabin was bare save for essentials.
What I found hidden in a bottom drawer under a pile of old sea maps was a cloth
bundle. A square of red velvet with some oddments within. Jai had humiliated me
and I was livid; I unwrapped the bundle without any qualms of conscience."
Because it was her last opportunity to say all this, Estelle spoke very fast,
breathless in her eagerness. "There was a bizarre assortment inside—that
is, bizarre to me at the time. Silver bangles, nose and toe rings such as
Indian women wear, a pair of rope slippers, some wooden animals, chiselled toys
in various shapes, one—a female figure—that reminded me of a ship's mascot, a
gauze veil, two faded cotton blouses, a skirt with braid edging and," she
swallowed and hushed her voice, "a small pellet of opium."

A
silver locket.

Olivia
fought back the image. A night hawk shrieked and zigzagged across their path in
its eternal hunt for prey. They both started. Its cry was piercingly shrill and
jolted the quietness of the night.

"These
were his mother's meagre belongings, but I didn't know that then. Foolishly, I
later asked him about the curious bundle. The effect of my question was
electric. Jai first went chalky white, then absolutely
berserk
with
temper. He called me vile names, raged like a maniac, accused me of every
criminal vice he could think of, said I was a true daughter of my parents. I
was terrified; I had made a gaffe, but I didn't know what. Jai didn't relent
for days. During that time I vowed never to mention that bundle again, either
to him or to anyone else. And I haven't. I tell you now only to
prove
that,
like Papa, Jai also
pretends
to be above the human weakness of
possessing normal feelings, but he does have them."

A
captive audience, Olivia had listened to Estelle in stoic
silence. But,
as Estelle now saw, she was not touched by anything she had heard. Indeed, she
was irritated. "Save your breath and your recommendations for someone to
whom they will mean something, Estelle. Although," she camouflaged her
reaction with a smile that tried to be light but succeeded only in seeming
false, "they tempt me to also say something I have been intending to for
some time. Once, I blamed you for the wreck that is now my life. I don't
anymore. Like me, you were a victim; unlike me, you have survived. I don't
begrudge you that, Estelle, believe me. I rejoice in your marriage, rejoice
that you have formed new relationships that have brought you satisfaction. In
your crusade to regenerate lives, I admire your zeal, because it is noble.
However," she dropped her pretence of a smile, "in healing everyone's
scars you mustn't begrudge me mine. Nor my crusades, whether you consider them
noble or not. If Jai Raventhorne now exists for me at all, it is as a threat to
my son."

"Amos
is also Jai's son!"

"No,
oh
no,"
Olivia breathed softly. "Were it only biology that
made fathers and sons, why the need for noble crusades? No, I
don't
accept
him as the father of my son! Amos is a Birkhurst, as I warned you never to
forget. To secure him that name, I have on my conscience another broken life,
that of the decent man whose only fault was that he married me for love. Until
Freddie decrees otherwise, Amos will remain a Birkhurst. But when the time
comes to choose another name, that of your brother will not be a
contender."

Despairing
at a bitterness that could be so enduring, Estelle again tried to plead.
"But Jai has no inkling of the truth! Is it fair to condemn him
regardless?"

"He
has never made any effort to discover the truth."

"But
you don't
want
him to! You ask to have it both ways, Olivia, and that
isn't fair either."

"To
be contrary with impunity is a rule
he
has devised. Besides, he once
advised me never to consider him fair. And only those capable of giving justice
are fit to receive it."

It
was hopeless!

Bitter
and blinding herself to the truth, her cousin had passed beyond all rational
limits. To argue further, Estelle saw, would be futile. "Olivia,
tell
Jai
about his son," she suggested once more in weary defeat. "
I
will ensure that Amos remains in your custody. It isn't right to deprive a
child of his father."

"No.
And if
you
ever tell him," the smile was back but there
was an ominous
glint in her eye, "you will have made yourself an enemy for life."

Estelle
had neither the courage nor the energy for further confrontation.

As
for Olivia, she was suddenly relieved that her cousin's visit was at an end. A
hundred hammers resounded within her head; every bone in her body ached, her
feet were swollen, her brain clogged with useless clutter. So much talk, so
many debates, such strong emotions! What had they all achieved for either,
except less peace of mind? Yes, Estelle's company had been amusing in many
ways, but now she was glad that Estelle was going.

It
was only after Estelle had finally departed that Olivia suddenly pinned down
the microscopic speck abrading the back of her mind. Something Estelle had said
had struck a chord somewhere; in the wake of her departure, Olivia identified
it. The sudden flash of inspiration first startled, then excited her
enormously. It took her breath away and instantly dispelled all her weariness.
No, Estelle's lengthy discourses had not been entirely unproductive; they
had
achieved something! If and when Jai Raventhorne chose to open hostilities,
she would be ready. Her armoury now boasted that one possible weapon to which
he would not have an answer.

As
it happened, Olivia did not have long to wait. Raventhorne fired his first
salvo a week after his return.

"I
did tell Your Ladyship that Kala Kanta is back, dinna I?" Willie Donaldson
asked her the moment she stepped into her office.

"Yes.
Why?" From his very tone she suspected that it was not an idle inquiry. It
wasn't.

"Trident
has cancelled our credit facilities. The letter from Moitra is on Your
Ladyship's table. What they demand now is payment in full in advance of all
consignments the clippers carry for us." His words didn't say so but the
spaces in between them were rife with accusation. "And I reck'n that's
only the start. I can give it in bloody writing." He put his head between
his hands and stared at a fly trying to settle on the rim of his teacup on the
desk.

Olivia
refrained from comment, but her spirits sank. Raventhorne
had
chosen
to declare open hostilities after all! What he had fired as an opening shot was
not a broadside, not yet. But the denial of the customary credit upon which all
large business houses operated and based their finance management would be a
drastic set-back. It would mean total reorganisation of their budget, possible
losses in their investments and, for them all, an irritating state of confusion
in the office at least for a while. Moreover, privately Olivia agreed with
Donaldson although she did not depress him further by saying so—yes, this was
only the start. More would certainly follow. Willie Donaldson knew
Raventhorne's methods well; what he did not know, of course, was the reason for
his sudden wrath. Or, indeed, his target! As with all of Raventhorne's battles,
it seemed, innocents were to be slaughtered again; and this time it was
Farrowsham's bad luck to be the ones caught in the cross-fire. It was not she
who had asked for the fight. But if Raventhorne was determined to incite one,
then so be it; he would get one worthy of whatever her capacities.

All
this Olivia pondered quietly as she watched poor Willie sit and wallow in his
self-righteous gloom. That not even this loyal, devoted, blameless man was to
be spared filled her with anger. But the face she presented to him as he
finally looked up was clean of everything she felt inside.

"Well,
if that is what they want, I suppose we have no option but to comply," she
said with an assumed air of resignation. "It's a damned nuisance, of
course, but we do have the liquidity to pay in advance."

Donaldson
swore with more colourful abandon than usual before regaining normal speech.
"It's na only a matter of bloody
liquidity;
of
course
we
have that! Who better than us?" His chest expanded with pride as a reflex.
"The point is I dinna
want
to tangle with the son of a whore! Why
should we?
We
have na god-rotting bones to pick; it's
Ransome's
pile
of dung, let
him
clean it up." He breathed noisily through flaring
nostrils as if about to spit fire.

It
hurt her to hear poor Arthur Ransome maligned with such little justification.
But, of course, Donaldson could not know how reluctant Ransome was to accept
her continuing help. Nor could Olivia enlighten Donaldson as to the real reason
for Raventhorne's fury against her. Donaldson would continue to curse Ransome,
and his interpretation would be the one universally accepted by everyone in the
business community. "Well, it would seem that it no longer is only Mr.
Ransome's pile of dung," she said lightly. "But I see no cause for
undue alarm. If we have
to pay in advance, well, we'll have to, won't we?" She paused to smile.
"That is, of course, for the time being."

He
stared, shocked by her offhandedness. "For the time b—?" Words failed
him. "And how do we restrict it to the
time being,
may I
inquire?"

Olivia
ignored his caustic tone. "Oh, don't worry, Mr. Donaldson. I guess we'll
think of some way as we go along."

The
airiness with which she had evaded Donaldson was not in evidence when Olivia
went to see Arthur Ransome in his office later in the day. Indeed, Donaldson
might have derived some satisfaction from how worried she herself looked. She
wasted no time in the usual formalities. Abruptly she asked, "Has
Raventhorne made you a bid for the
Daffodil?"

He
was not surprised that she already had the information. During the past year
and a half he had developed a healthy respect for her skill at gleaning and
gathering news around the commercial district. He made a face. "If you can
call it a bid. An insult might be a better word. Why?"

"Can
you think of any reason why he should make a bid at all?"

"Perhaps
he can think of some use for her. I cannot."

"And
do you intend to take the offer?"

Ransome
shrugged. "Why not? So much has already gone, Olivia. The
Daffodil
is
a white elephant, of no use to anyone. She'll probably never sail again,
certainly never for me. And the days of the tea wagons are over. Now everyone
dreams of sailing these clippers, which even Clydeside is building. Very soon
the tea wagons will go for scrap anyway. Yes, I'm inclined to accept Jai's
offer for whatever it is worth."

Olivia
sat back and drummed a tattoo on his desk, her face thoughtful. "Would you
say that the Burma teak, the mahogany and the brass fittings on the
Daffodil
would collectively fetch more?"

"You
mean if she were dismembered?" He looked taken aback. "Well... I
daresay they would." He sat back and, briefly, his expression turned
dreamy. "The
Daffodil
was our first ship, you know, the first to
carry our flag and to take us to Canton, the first to bring back tea chests for
Templewood and Ransome. The others came later, but none of them meant to us
what the
Daffodil
did. In any case, they've all gone too." He
sighed. "No, I don't know why Jai would want the
Daffodil.
Perhaps,
as the rumour goes, he does intend to make firewood out of her. To be frank, it
no longer matters. What he does with it will be his business."

"I
have someone in mind who might pay better for her components, Uncle
Arthur." Her eyes showed a glint. "If it's all the same to you, would
you let me approach him first?"