The Ragged Heiress (9 page)

‘Yes, miss?’

‘What is all that noise? It’s normally so quiet here.’

Jackson sniffed and his mouth creased into the shape of a small prune. ‘A native festival, I believe, miss. Some outlandish name – Nyepi, or something similar.’

‘Nyepi? What does that mean?’

‘I wouldn’t know, miss. But apparently at the end
of the rainy season the locals celebrate their pagan festivals with processions, feasting and the din that they call music. It’s some heathen notion of casting out devils, I believe, which goes on day and night until sunrise tomorrow, when thank the Lord everything goes back to normal.’

‘How fascinating, Jackson. Do tell me more.’

‘There’s nothing more to tell, except that tomorrow the natives won’t do a stroke of work. They believe that if they keep quiet the evil spirits will think the island is deserted and simply go away. It’s unchristian, that’s what it is.’

‘But it’s their religion, and rather beautiful, I think. Perhaps we should be more tolerant of other people’s beliefs.’

‘Undoubtedly, miss.’ Jackson inclined his head and stalked off, visibly offended.

Lucetta sighed. She had not meant to hurt his feelings, but the man was such a bigot. The sound of the gamelan orchestra floated through the open windows and she could hear bursts of laughter. She would have loved to go outside and join in with the celebrations but she did not dare flout Papa’s instructions to stay within the compound. She wandered into the drawing room and picked up a morocco-bound copy of Mrs Gaskell’s
Wives and Daughters
, which she had been attempting to read on and off for a month or more. She took the book out onto the veranda and sat down, opening the page at the bookmark, but try as she might the black print danced before her eyes and she could not concentrate on poor Molly’s problems.

The gamelan orchestra was playing a tune that was strange to her ears. The noisy, jingly percussion of the gangsa sounded something like a xylophone, and the repetitive rhythmic beat of the kendang drums was both hypnotic and thrilling. The music and the sound of people having a good time made her feel restless and she closed the book with a snap. Abandoning Molly to her fate, Lucetta jumped to her feet and ran down the steps into the searing heat of the garden. Within seconds, her thin shift was sticking to her back and she could feel the freckles popping out on her nose, but she did not care.

She closed her eyes, holding her arms outstretched as she walked along the gravel path in an attempt to see how far she could go without bumping into something. It was a game that she had played as a child when she used to hide from her governess in the shrubbery of their London garden. It had ended then, as it did now, when she missed her footing and stumbled into a tree or shrub. In Islington it had been the sooty branches of laurel or the prickly leaves of a holly bush that stopped her fall, but here in Bali it was the lush stems and opulent blossoms of the oleander that enveloped her. She opened her eyes and giggled. It was a silly, childish thing to do and without realising it she had come as far as the carriage sweep.

Over the top of the wall surrounding the compound she could see prayer flags flapping gently in the breeze, and above the general hubbub outside she heard the sound of a horse’s hooves pounding on the dirt road. Her heart was drumming to the same rhythm and for
a moment she felt quite faint. She knew who the caller was even before he drew his mount to a halt outside the gates, and she clapped her hand across her mouth to prevent herself from calling out his name. She took a step forward and then stopped. She had known that he would come, but now she felt suddenly shy. She had been in a dreadful state when he last saw her. She glanced down at her gown which was now smeared with green sap from the oleander, and the hem was covered in mud from the flowerbed where the gardener had recently watered the plants. She was hatless and her hair had come loose from the elaborate style created by Naomi’s nimble fingers. She did not want him to see her like this.

She picked up her skirts and was about to make a dash for her room, but too late. The gates creaked on their hinges and Sam rode into the compound. She froze on the spot and was transfixed by the sight of him in his white, open-neck shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. He had abandoned his peaked cap and his hair was ruffled by the breeze giving him the tousled look of a romantic poet. The sun had bleached golden glints into the dark auburn and he ran his hand carelessly through his thick locks, brushing an irritating strand from his forehead. He leapt from the saddle, handing the reins to a groom who had appeared as if by magic at his side.

Curbing a sudden impulse to rush from cover and fling her arms around his neck, Lucetta backed into the shade. She wanted to greet him like a lady, not a hoyden as Miss Milton had once called her when she
had been caught running through the school grounds barefoot and hatless. She held her breath, hoping he would head for the main entrance and walk past, giving her time to get to her room and make herself presentable. She moved back a little further but the snapping of a twig gave her presence away.

‘Miss Froy, is that you?’ Sam strode towards her hiding place and parted the fronds of green leaves. ‘Lucetta, thank God. I’ve been out of my mind with worry. Are you all right?’

‘I-I’m well, thanks to you.’ She met his anxious gaze and felt her heart melt like warm chocolate. ‘If you had not found me I dread to think what might have happened.’

‘I would have searched for you all night if necessary.’ He took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘I got my men together as soon as the alarm was raised. We would have scoured the whole island until we found you.’

‘I’m very grateful to you all.’ Lucetta felt herself blushing as she snatched her hand free. Her heart was thudding against her ribcage and she wished that vanity had not led her to demand such tight lacing of her stays. She was finding it almost impossible to remain calm when he was standing so close to her that she could feel his breath on her cheek. She turned away and began to stroll along the shady path, clasping her hands tightly in front of her.

His booted feet crunched on the gravel behind her. ‘Did those brutes harm you in any way? I swear to God if they did …’

She stopped, glancing over her shoulder and shaking her head. ‘No, I was not physically harmed. Stranks was going to demand a ransom from my father. He wouldn’t have been stupid enough to injure me in any way.’

Sam lifted his hand to tweak an oleander petal from her hair, and he smiled. ‘You are wonderful, Lucetta. I don’t know many young ladies who would have been so brave under similar circumstances.’

‘I wasn’t brave but I was more afraid of the snakes and wild animals than I was of Stranks and Guthrie. What will happen to them?’

‘They’re in irons on the
Caroline
and that’s where they’ll stay until we get back to London, where they’ll go straight to jail to await sentencing. They could face the hangman’s noose.’

A shiver ran down Lucetta’s spine despite the heat. ‘Did they say anything about the way they’d found me?’

Sam took both her hands in his, looking deeply into her eyes. ‘Don’t think about it, sweetheart. Put the whole sorry affair out of your mind.’ Drawing her to him, he kissed her gently but with mounting desire.

She leaned into him, sighing and closing her eyes as her lips parted. The lectures on propriety from Mama and Miss Milton flew from her head and she returned his kisses, holding nothing back. This was what she had been longing for, and for which she had risked her reputation and possibly, if things had gone differently, her life. When at last they drew apart, Lucetta
glanced nervously through the fronds of oleander to see if anyone might have seen them from the house, but the windows were shaded by blinds and there was no one in sight. She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. ‘Walk with me, Sam. There is so much I want to know about you.’

‘There’s nothing I would like more, my love, but I came on official business and I’m afraid I can’t stay long. I have a report to hand to the consul and a message for your father from Captain Sharpe.’

So he had not come expressly to see her. Disappointment threatened to choke her. ‘I see,’ she said coldly, withdrawing her hand. ‘Well they are out on business, so I’m afraid you have had a wasted journey.’

He took her by the shoulders, gazing deeply into her eyes. ‘I didn’t mean it that way, Lucetta. I had to have an excuse to come ashore or Captain Sharpe would not have allowed me to leave the ship, but I couldn’t live another hour without seeing you.’

There was no doubting the sincerity in his eyes and Lucetta smiled mistily. ‘Nor I you, Sam.’

‘You don’t know how happy that makes me, my darling,’ he whispered, taking her once again into his arms and holding her as if he would never let her go. ‘But knowing that you feel as I do is going to make our parting even harder.’

‘You’re leaving?’

‘Not from choice, sweetheart. The
Caroline
is due to sail for England the day after tomorrow.’

‘But surely Captain Sharpe won’t leave without a full cargo, and part of it is stuck at the bottom of
a gorge in the north of the island. That’s where Papa went today.’

‘I don’t know about that, Lucetta. I just obey orders.’

‘But Papa has shares in the
Caroline
. Captain Sharpe must do what he wants, surely?’

Sam shook his head. ‘That’s a matter for them to discuss. All I know is that I must speak to Mr Froy and take his response back to Captain Sharpe.’

Lucetta swallowed a lump in her throat that threatened to engulf her in a flood of tears. ‘But we can’t be parted so soon. We’ve only just found each other.’

‘I will return with the
Caroline
in September by which time I hope I will have my master’s ticket. I will then be in a position to ask your father’s permission to marry you.’

‘Marry me?’ Lucetta could hardly believe her ears. She felt the blood drain from her face and for a moment she thought she was going to faint. She took a deep breath. ‘Did you just propose to me, Sam?’

He smiled gently. ‘Isn’t that what a man does when he meets the love of his life?’

‘But we hardly know each other.’

‘I knew from the first moment I saw you that you were the girl for me,’ Sam whispered, raising his hand to stroke her cheek. ‘I couldn’t believe my luck, and I thought you felt the same.’

‘I do. You know I do, but my parents would never agree to it.’ Lucetta hesitated, biting her lip. She could not bring herself to tell him that her mother, and probably Papa also, had plans for her to marry a much wealthier man than a young seafarer.

Sam gripped her hands in his. ‘I know that you are very young, my love. But I’m prepared to wait, and during that time I’ll work hard. When I am captain of my own ship I will be in a position to keep a wife in comfort, although maybe not as much style as this.’

The pressure of his strong fingers was reassuring and his voice was so full of confidence that Lucetta almost believed him. ‘But that will take years,’ she murmured. ‘I want to be with you now and forever.’

Sweeping her in a close embrace, his passionate kisses robbed her of breath and also of reason. In his arms she felt that the world was theirs. Anything was possible. He released her slowly, laying a gentle finger on her trembling lips. ‘You have my heart and my life in your hands. I will always be true to you, Lucetta, and I will win your father round somehow. We will spend the rest of our lives together, you and I, you have my solemn promise on that.’

Tear spilled unchecked from her eyes, but they were tears of happiness. ‘I will be true to you too, Sam. I’ll never look at another man as long as I live. I’ll wait for you, even if it’s a hundred years or more.’

He chuckled deep in his throat although his eyes were moist. ‘I hope we don’t have to wait that long, my love.’ He leaned over to kiss her on the tip of her nose. ‘Now I must find Sir John and your father, or I will be in trouble with Captain Sharpe.’

Lucetta clasped his hand and raised it to her cheek. ‘I understand, but I can’t bear to part with you like this. If the
Caroline
sails without waiting for Papa’s last
consignment we may not get a chance to see each other for months.’

‘That won’t happen if I have anything to do with it, but I will come back this evening when the whole island will be feasting and dancing. Will you come with me to watch the procession and the bonfires?’

‘Papa would forbid it,’ Lucetta said, staring down at their entwined fingers. Sam’s were so slim, tanned and strong and her hand was pale and tiny by comparison, but together they made an entrancing whole. She looked him in the eyes and smiled. ‘But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Come to my window after dark. I’ll leave a lantern on the table outside my room, and I’ll be waiting for you.’

That evening at dinner Lucetta’s lack of appetite was commented upon and became the main topic of conversation. Eveline urged her husband to send immediately for the doctor, who must be persuaded to prescribe a tonic for their daughter, but Lady Boothby declared this to be quite unnecessary. A spoonful of castor oil would be more efficacious, she said firmly, or perhaps a dose of the new medicine from America,
Cascara sagrada
, which was used in the hospital to great effect. The girl was in need of a purgative, which would soon restore her to good health. Treating her in a namby-pamby fashion would do her no good at all.

Lucetta said nothing to all this. She kept her eyes meekly cast down and when the meal was over she followed her mother and Lady Boothby into the drawing room. They subsided onto the damask-covered
sofas, stuffed to bursting point with prickly horsehair, and their wide crinolines spread out around them in pools of delicately coloured silk. A maid served coffee which the ladies sipped decorously while they waited for the gentlemen to join them. Lucetta glanced anxiously at her mother, who was visibly wilting in the oppressive heat and humidity, but Lady Boothby seemed oblivious to physical discomfort. Beads of perspiration stood out on her brow and damp patches stained the purple silk of her tight bodice, but she sat bolt upright like the image of Britannia on a coin of the realm. Lucetta would not have been surprised if the silver teaspoon clasped between Lady Boothby’s thumb and forefinger had suddenly turned into a trident, and her lace fan into a shield. She bit her lip to suppress a giggle but her vision of Britannia dissolved into a disapproving Lady Boothby, who was glaring through narrowed eyes. She seemed about to demand an explanation for Lucetta’s apparent amusement when the door opened and Sir John strolled into the drawing room.