China by Edward Rutherfurd (historical books to read TXT) 📕

up in the hills, when she and her mother were alone, that she told her about the strange way that Trader had cried out in his sleep. “Could he really have murdered someone, do you think?” she asked.

“Oh, I doubt it very much,” Mrs. Lomond said. “He was just having a nightmare, that’s all. When people have nightmares, it’s hardly ever about something that actually happened, you know. I should put it out of your mind, if I were you.” She gave her daughter a curious look. “Does it matter to you, Agnes?”

Agnes didn’t answer. She didn’t tell her mother about the way Trader had called out her name. For some reason she didn’t want to. After all, he had as good as told her that he was in love with her. She was pretty sure that was the truth, not a fantasy like the nightmare. And she wasn’t sure what she felt about it.

No man had ever told her he loved her before.

◦

It was the start of July. Colonel Lomond was looking forward to a quiet afternoon, undisturbed. He’d arrived up at the hill station to join his wife and daughter a week ago, so he’d had several days to unwind. The weather was cooler, the air was clean, and a mix of sweet and tangy scents wafted in the breeze.

Lomond loved the cottage—for so the English called their country retreats in the hills. Its architecture was a plain and simple colonial Georgian. Had the walls been clapboard instead of cream-painted stucco, it might have come from any village in New England—with the exception of the roof, of which the colonel was very proud. For this was constructed of the corrugated iron—the colonel called it tin—already in use in Australia and New Zealand, and just now making its appearance in British India. Lomond had supervised the work personally and had ordered the tin roof painted green. It blended pleasantly with the grass lawn and the rhododendrons, which gave structure to the cottage’s hillside garden.

His wife and Agnes were out in the garden now. Colonel Lomond had retired to the small room he called the library, but which was really his private den. He had sat himself in a big chair, stretched out his long legs, and lit a pipe when to his irritation the head house servant appeared to announce that a visitor had arrived. His frown relaxed into a smile, however, when he heard, “It is Mr. Farley.” And a few moments later, still holding his pipe in his left hand, he strode outside with his hand outstretched to welcome the young man.

“I hope you don’t mind my calling on you without warning, sir,” Charlie said.

“Of course not, my dear boy. Delighted to see you.”

“I just arrived two days ago at my aunt Harriet’s cottage, and as you’re only a couple of hours away, I thought I’d come over. She sends you her best wishes.”

“Very kind of her. I hope she’s well?”

“Absolutely.” Charlie gazed down the slope. “You really have a splendid view up here, with those waters in the valley.”

“My wife says it reminds her of the English Lake District.”

Charlie nodded, then glanced towards the distant Himalayas. “Bigger mountains, though.”

“This is true.” Lomond smiled contentedly.

It was just then that Mrs. Lomond and Agnes emerged from the lower lawn. But they were not alone. And now Lomond’s face fell.

“I brought Trader with me,” Charlie explained. “He’s been convalescing with Aunt Harriet after his accident. I hope it’s all right.”

Colonel Lomond did not reply. He stared at Trader.

John was dressed in a short tweed coat. His right hand had evidently recovered, for he held a walking stick. But his left hand was still bandaged and he wore it in a sling. Over his missing eye he wore a large black patch. The effect was rather romantic.

If Trader had been an officer, Lomond would have confessed that he looked rather dashing. But he wasn’t an officer, so Lomond was damned if he had to confess any such thing at all. The ladies appeared to find him handsome, though. The colonel closed his eyes, as though this would make the young merchant disappear, and wondered if he could retreat to his lair with Charlie for a smoke. When he opened his eyes, he was horrified to see that Trader had detached himself from the ladies and was advancing straight towards him in a purposeful manner.

“Colonel Lomond,” he began, “I wonder, sir, if I might speak to you in private.”

—

Five minutes later, Colonel Lomond stared at Trader bleakly. His great desire, if not to reach for the nearest weapon and shoot him, was to throw Trader out of his house. But the damnable fact was, he really couldn’t. Worst of all, the loathsome young man knew it.

Assuming Trader was telling the truth—and Colonel Lomond would most assuredly satisfy himself as to that—the young man actually possessed, at this moment, more money than he had himself. A circumstance the colonel had no intention of letting Trader discover.

The offer therefore was not a bad one. Still more to the point, there hadn’t been any others.

“Have you spoken to my daughter about this?” he finally forced himself to inquire.

“Certainly not, sir. I came to ask you first whether I might pay my addresses.”

“I see.” That was proper, at least. If true. “And have you any reason to think she would welcome your advances?”

“I cannot say. You must understand, sir, that until my circumstances recently changed, as I have explained, I did not feel in any position to marry, and I was most careful not to behave towards your daughter or anyone else in a manner that might suggest such a prospect. In general converse, however, we found so many things in common that I believe she might consider me.”

“I shall speak to her myself. So will her mother. You understand that detailed inquiries will have to be made into your circumstances. And your character,” he added firmly.

“Of course. I believe you will be