The Fever Tree (29 page)

She stood up awkwardly, and saw William turn and lock eyes with her. She wanted Leger to be gone and for it just to be the two of them and for him to say he was glad she had come.

Leger swung himself down in the chair opposite hers, grinning at her and stuffing his pipe.

William took her hand without speaking and led her through a door on the far side of the room. He lit a candle. There was a simple double bed, and he sat her down on it.

“Are you here to stay?” he asked, looking down at her.

“If you’ll let me,” she said softly.

He grinned at her wolfishly. “I’ll let you.” Then he said, “Leger and I have some business to settle. You’d best wait here.”

She waited a few moments, sitting stiffly on the bed, listening to the murmur of their voices. When it was clear he wasn’t coming through any time soon, she unlaced her boots and lay back on the deep feather pillows at the head of the bed. She blew out the candle. Moonlight filtered through the small window. If only Leger hadn’t been here. She disliked the way he looked at her, as if he knew what she was. It made her feel cheap and worthless. There was a plaid woolen blanket at the end of the bed, and she pulled it over her knees. She woke some time later, groggy with sleep and still alone in the room. There were footsteps on the boards in the sitting room, and the low voice of a native. When he had gone, she heard Leger laughing, then shortly afterwards he left as well.

The bedroom door opened and William came in, without a lamp. She saw the dark bulk of him in the dark. He sat down on the bed. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

He watched her, nudging the hair off her forehead with the tips of his fingers. Her blood beat high and fast in her throat. When he didn’t say anything, she asked, “Are you glad?”

“Glad?” He looked at her for a moment then leant forward and kissed her. The smell of wood smoke was caught in the folds of his shirt. His tongue flickered across her upper lip. Then he pulled back. “Shouldn’t you have changed for bed?”

“I wasn’t sure if I would be staying. All my things are still in the tent.”

“Still”—he said, looking at her. She could just make out his eyes in the dark—“it’s no excuse for not undressing.” He tipped her chin up with one finger and began undoing the high collar of her black bodice, easing open the buttons from her throat down to the last one at her waist. She tried to kiss him when he had finished, but he shook his head then undid the buttons at each sleeve and drew her arms through, letting the bodice drop back onto the bed. His fingers trailed along the line of her collarbone until they found the eyes at the top of her corset. He unhooked them one by one then slipped her out of it. With each layer he took off came the residues of her old life. He stood her up, and she raised her arms like a child and let him slide her chemise over her head, shivering as the cotton brushed over her breasts. She was glad that there was little light. He wouldn’t see the graying fabric, nor—when he got to them—her torn flannel petticoats. He untied her skirts and stepped her out of them. Finally, he pulled down her drawers until she stood completely naked in front of him. Then he kissed her delicately, searchingly, and drew her down onto the bed.

•   •   •

T
HEY
LAY
TOGETHER
in a tangled knot of sheets. William lit a candle and produced a small stone from his hand. He held it up to the light. It was about the size of a large pearl, with uneven edges. He unfurled one of her hands and pressed the stone into her palm. “For you,” he said, smiling at her. “Not quite a ring, but the sentiment is the same.”

She felt uncomfortable taking it, lying there naked next to him. It was as if he was paying her for what they had just done. And then she realized that of course this was the way it was going to be: her always feeling indebted to him, doubting him, and worrying that she had to rely on him for everything. She handed it back to him, and he laughed, propping himself up on one elbow.

She shook her head. “I don’t want it.”

“What do you want then, Frances?”

She thought for a moment. “Anything?” she asked.

“Anything.”

She smiled. “Something to eat?”

He gave a roar of laughter. “You’ve not had supper?”

“Nor lunch.”

“How long were you waiting for me?”

“Most of the day.”

He stalked naked to the bedroom door, opened it, and bellowed to his boy.

“What happened with Matthews?” he asked, coming back into the room.

She shrugged. She didn’t want to have to explain about the hospital. “He let me go.”

The boy knocked on the door, and William got up and took the tray from him. There was a tureen of soup and a loaf of bread. He sat on the floor, pulling her down next to him, along with a heap of sheets, so she was propped up against the bed with her hair falling about her knees. She ate hungrily. The soup was mulligatawny, thick and hot with a deep spiciness, and the butter dripped off the bread down her fingers. She was starving and ate with intent, aware of him watching her closely. He took the tray away before she was finished.

“You can have the rest later,” he said, burying his head in her neck, under her hair. He groaned. “I can’t bear to look at you without touching you.” She smelt the sweet sweat of him, and the salty heat of the chillies was in her mouth. The sheets felt cool and strange, and his hands were warm against her skin. His fingers began exploring her again, touching the soft, hidden places of her body, pulling at the sheet until it fell down around her waist, and she laughed, turning to get away from him, but he pinned her down, kissing her soft belly. His lips moved down between her thighs, his beard brushing against the smoothness of her skin until his tongue, like the flick of a knife, unlocked a sudden, sweet pleasure inside her.

The next morning she woke before he did and wriggled her arm out from under his chest. She wanted to get dressed before he woke up, but he snatched at her hand as she was slipping out of bed and pulled her back down again. “Wait,” he said, and the next minute the door had opened. She pulled the sheets over her head, but her hair spilled out from under them. The boy left tea, hot toast, and muffins. When he was gone, William pulled back the sheet and grinned at her. Sunlight streamed between gaps in the curtains. She smiled shyly at him.

“What do you call him, the boy?” she asked.

“Halfwit.”

She laughed, unsure. “You’re not serious?”

“Perfectly.” He smiled at her disapproval. “What? There’s too little humor in Kimberley. And besides, it’s not as if he knows what it means.”

“But still . . .” she said, frowning in distaste.

“Frances, one thing you should know about me is I don’t do disapproval. I don’t judge others, and in return I don’t expect to be judged. Now,” he said, giving her a gentle push, “I’m desperate for a cup of tea.” She tried to take the sheet with her, but he pulled at a corner of it, and she was left standing naked. He smiled at her, watching her pad across the room. She could feel her breasts swinging and her hair shifting across her back. She blushed when she bent down to place a cup beside his bed. He pushed open the sheets and took her in against the warmth of his body, curling her into him.

“Do you think this is entirely appropriate?” he asked, holding out her left hand. She was still wearing her wedding ring. He held her finger up to his mouth, flicked his tongue over the ring, then slid it over her knuckle. He dropped it into the teacup, and she laughed.

“Are there problems with the stock market?” she asked after a moment, thinking about George Fairley’s conversation with Dr. Robinson.

“Nothing we need to worry about,” he said, murmuring into the skin on her shoulder. “I’ve sold all my stock.”

“But the market isn’t doing as well as it was?”

“It’s down a little.”

“Because of fears of smallpox?” she asked.

He laughed. “No, not because of smallpox. Matthews has so far failed to sell the idea of an epidemic. The market’s a little nervous, that’s all.”

They lay in silence, his breath falling warm against her shoulder, until she asked, “When do you think we can leave?”

“Not for ten days or so. In the meantime, you should stay in the house.” His fingers tiptoed down the crease of her underarm, and along the soft fold of her waist. “Can you bear ten days as my prisoner?”

“How do I know you’ll look after me?” she gulped.

“I’m not sure I will.” His hand brushed across the top of her buttocks, and her spine tightened with pleasure. “I intend to take complete advantage of you.”

•   •   •

W
ILLIAM
LEFT
HER
£5 and kissed her good-bye. “You’ll take the diamond, Frances,” he said as he left, placing it on the small table in the sitting room. “I like people who look after themselves.”

“William?” she called after him when he was almost out of the door. “The zebra we brought from Rietfontein. He’s tethered up in the yard. If we leave him there, Edwin will sell him. Do you think we can keep him?”

He smiled at her. “Of course. I’ll tell the boy to fetch him.”

When he was gone, she wrote out a letter to George enclosing the £5 note. She wouldn’t have any chance to spend it herself in Kimberley, and Mariella would need it more than her. Then she put her wedding ring in an envelope and began writing a letter to enclose with it. She wanted to explain to Edwin everything which she had felt since she had come to South Africa, but after a few sentences she realized that her need for his understanding was inappropriate, and she tore up what she had begun. It was too late now for reconciliation, and she sealed the envelope without a note. She gave the letters to the boy to carry. In the afternoon he came back with Mangwa and her trunk with all her things. The zebra was tethered in the yard. She stood at the back door and watched him drink, his flanks hollow from dehydration and his body trembling as he drew on the water in a long draft.

She felt better once she had her clothes, her watercolors, and the photograph of her parents. It made her feel less isolated in this new house. There was a letter from Anne, delivered with the rest of her luggage. It must have arrived that morning. Wasn’t she excited by the breakthrough? An Englishman agreeing to fund the smallpox hospital was surely good news. Sister Clara was moving a division of nurses to help set up and run the place, and she was going with them.
Frances put the letter aside. She didn’t want to think about Edwin working with Sister Clara. His world was no longer her world.

T
he days in the house alone felt long. Frances became restless and unsure of herself. She chewed her nails down to the quick, something she had never done before. When William saw them he tutted and called her a naughty girl. “We’ll have to keep your hands in gloves until you can learn better,” he said, producing a pair for her the following day and pulling them on over her hands. He told her not to take them off until he told her to. That evening, he came home and sat her on his lap, slipped them off, and kissed each fingertip in turn.

He bought her new dresses, a riding habit, hats, and petticoats. She felt like a doll, being dressed for his pleasure. It made her fretful and anxious waiting for him to come home and—when he did come home—completely enthralled to him physically. She was subsumed by him. He wanted this infatuation from her; she saw it pleased him, but she was terrified by it. At times, when she was on her own in the house, she realized that he left no room for her to breathe, that there was nothing left of her except what he had made her.

She told herself that this would change in Johannesburg. They would be on the same footing, husband and wife. She thought he had promised her this, but found she couldn’t remember his exact words. In the mornings she would set up her easel to begin a painting, but by the end of the day she wouldn’t have sketched in more than a few lines. All the calmness she had felt at Rietfontein had gone. Although she laughed about it when she was with him, she had a residual terror that he would cast her off and she would have nowhere to go. She was entirely dependent on his goodwill. This is what mistresses do, she thought, digging the coarse diamond out of her pocket. They hoard the things they are given so that, when the end comes, they can survive. He had said the diamond would take the place of a ring, but in fact it was just the opposite. A ring was a public statement. The diamond he had given her was only the guarantee of a private contract.

And there was one thing she hadn’t reckoned on. Leger. He followed William round like a dark shadow, turning everything that was good and honest about their relationship into something sordid and shameful. When he looked at her his mouth curled into an expression of mocking knowingness. He did what he could to keep William away from her, lounging around the house in the evenings, drinking whiskey, until the early hours. She consoled herself that they would soon be leaving him behind. He wouldn’t be coming with them to Johannesburg.

She thought about Edwin when she was on her own, more than she ought to have done. He had been asked to marry her, and he had obliged. But had he ever loved her? He had been attracted to her in London, she was sure of it, but was that the same thing? At the back of her mind lurked an image of Sister Clara, sitting at her desk with her plait of honey-colored hair falling over one shoulder—gentle, industrious, and beautiful. Anne’s letter had said she was supporting Edwin with the new hospital, and the idea kept catching at the back of Frances’s mind. She shouldn’t care, but it disturbed her to think of them working together.

She read the letter over and over, and wondered whether Edwin had been right about smallpox, and if he would eventually give up on his campaign to try to prove it. He would know by now that she had decided not to go to Rietfontein. She was upset by the idea that he thought badly of her, then confused that she minded what he thought.

And she kept remembering her father. She had always thought that he would have been ashamed to see her married to Edwin, living such a frugal life in South Africa, but in fact he had approved of Edwin, and had wanted them to be married, and this was a difficult readjustment.

In the evenings Frances would go to bed soon after supper, leaving William and Leger to sit up drinking. Some hours later there would be a knock on the door and the voice of a native talking quietly. There was a safe inside the bedroom, and once or twice William came in to take out cash. When she asked him what it was for, he shook his head at her and said, “Curiosity, Frances, can be a dangerous thing.”

•   •   •

W
ILLIAM
CAME
HOME
one evening keyed up and full of a restless energy. When he kissed her his breath smelt of beer and cigar smoke. Leger hovered at the door.

“I won’t be staying for supper,” William said, wolfing down a plateful of bread and cheese that the boy had brought for them.

“Where are you going?” she asked in the bedroom, as he fumbled with the safe. She had been looking forward to him coming home and didn’t want to think about the long evening ahead of her, alone in the house.

He didn’t answer, kissing her on the forehead instead. “I won’t be back until late.”

Her eyes flickered to Leger, who was looking in at them through the open door with a slight smile on his face. She wanted William to reassure her that he wasn’t going to see the young colored girl at Mrs. Whitley’s, but she had too much pride to ask.

•   •   •

S
HE
WAS
ASLEEP
by the time he came back. He sat on the edge of the bed, unlacing his boots. “What time is it?” she asked.

“Come, sit with me,” he said, kicking off the boots and taking her by the hand. She let him lead her through to the sitting room and watched him pour some whiskey into a glass. The boy was lighting the fire.

“Why are you in such a good mood?” she asked as he pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her neck. “Because I have the most beautiful woman in Kimberley sitting on my lap and I can summon her from bed at will.” She laughed, and he put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a handful of notes. “And because I just happen to be the best card player in Kimberley. I didn’t lose a game all evening.”

“You’ve been playing cards all evening?” she asked.

“I’ve been playing cards.”

“I thought Baier had told you not to.”

“Is this disapproval I’m sensing?” He held both her arms in one hand and tickled her so suddenly that she squirmed with laughter and shouted at him to stop.

There was a knock at the door. William let go of Frances and motioned to the boy, who looked through the window. She glanced questioningly at him.

“Stay here,” he said, taking a sip of scotch and passing her the glass. He stood up. “You may as well see what I do for a living.”

The boy opened the door, and a native came in. He was what they call raw—half naked, with bare feet and no trousers. He spoke rapidly in Kaffir, then stepped forward into the light and spat a stone into his hand. William took it from him. He wiped it against his trousers and held it up to a light, then carried it to the scales on his desk and weighed it. They negotiated over the price, William’s boy acting as translator. William bargained hard, and the native, looking disgruntled, finally agreed. Money changed hands, and he left.

“Stolen diamonds?” she asked in a tight voice when they were alone in the room. He had let her in on something, shown her a new side of himself, and she didn’t like it.

“Does it bother you?” he asked.

“Isn’t it dangerous?” Illicit diamond buying was the most talked about crime on the fields. It carried as high a sentence as murder.

He shrugged. “I try to mitigate the risk.”

“But you’re encouraging the natives to steal.”

“The natives are born opportunists. They will steal whether or not I’m in the game. I need money, and this is the fastest way to get it.”

“But you have money. Baier has given you money, legitimate money. Why take this risk?”

He snorted with derision. “I don’t know about legitimate. There isn’t a diamond dealer in Kimberley who hasn’t made his money from buying illicit diamonds, and Baier must be the worst of the lot. Anyway, you may as well know that there isn’t much money. Not anymore. Baier has me on a tight leash. He expects me to have the morality of a saint when he has been the very devil himself.”

“I don’t blame Baier,” she said, standing up and walking towards him. “You’re worse than a common thief.”

The slap shocked her. Her face snapped round and exploded into fire. Tears stung her eyes, and she stood with her mouth half open, gaping at him.

“Don’t forget your position in my house,” he said in a cold, still voice. “As my wife or my mistress, I expect your submission and respect. What did you imagine, coming here, living off my money? That I would be as squeaky clean as your husband?”

He left the house then, and when the door slammed behind him she felt empty. Remorse battled with resentment. She crawled into bed. He came home just before dawn, reeking of liquor, his breath sour, his thick hair full of sweet smoke, and she let him turn her over in the dark onto her stomach, the weight of him holding her down, pressing her into the mattress, sealing himself to her as a second skin. His body burnt itself across the backs of her legs, her buttocks, the dip in her lower spine. One hand pushed under her chest and the other grasped the back of her head, driving her face into the pillow. He thrust into her and she gave a muffled cry, struggling to get free, but she couldn’t move from under the weight of him and he lunged deeper, his breath falling hoarse and damp against her cheek. She cried silently afterwards, the tears running down her face, gulping back the sobs so he wouldn’t hear.

The next morning he was conciliatory. “I need to make money if I’m ever going to break away from Baier. I have a hundred thousand pounds’ worth of diamonds which I’m going to take across the border. Do you know what that can do for us? When we get to Johannesburg I’ll buy up the gold fields and start an empire of my own.”

“When we talked on the
Cambrian
you said you wanted to go into politics. You were going to achieve great things for South Africa.”

“And I will. But I need money to do them. Money is power. Without it, I am nothing.” How like Baier he sounded. And yet there was an undeniable logic to his words. Edwin had no money and no power, and look what a mess he had made of everything. William put a hand to her chin. “We are none of us perfect, Frances. There is always a sacrifice to be made. And this is yours: to loosen that schoolgirl morality of yours just a little. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded, wary of him now.

“I don’t particularly like Baier,” William was saying, “and I don’t admire the way things are done in Kimberley. With the money I have made we can be independent. Start again. You do want that, don’t you?” he asked, cradling her waist with his hands.

“Yes,” she said, hoping it was true. But last night had frightened her. She didn’t trust him. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” He kissed her lightly on the mouth. “That’s better.”

He told her that they would be leaving in three days. The diamond police were jumpy, he said. They had been making searches at Baier’s offices, and they had been through his books. Men were being stopped and searched leaving town. They would have to be careful.

“How are you going to get the stones out of Kimberley?” Frances asked. “What if you’re caught?” If the police stopped them and found the diamonds, then they would send William to Breakwater, and possibly her as well. He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “Don’t worry about that. Leave it to me. I’ll take care of everything.”

•   •   •

T
HERE
WAS
A
KNOCK
on the door while they were eating supper. Frances glanced at William. They were leaving the following morning, and she was jumpy. He motioned to his boy, who opened it a crack. They heard a murmur of conversation, then the door swung open and a native boy stepped inside. Frances didn’t recognize him. He couldn’t have been more than thirteen, his lower lip was thrust out, and she thought he might cry. He shifted his weight nervously from board to board. William asked him a question, then grasped his jaw, but the boy just made a sobbing sound and failed to meet his eye. He kept holding up a stone between two fingers, as if it were burning him. She could see from the armchair five yards away that it was no ordinary diamond. It was larger than the tip of his thumb. If it was real, it would be worth a fortune.

She wanted to tell William to send the boy away, but he would be angry if she interfered. He shouldn’t be taking the risk, not when they were so close to leaving. William stepped outside. She heard him walk down the
stoep
into the street. The young boy was left standing awkwardly in the center of the room, holding his diamond. When William came back he asked Halfwit to send for the inspector. He tried to refuse, but William raised his voice and eventually he went out. The boy’s shoulders began to tremble, and his chest heaved. William plucked the stone from his still-outstretched hand, slipped it into his pocket, and took out a cigarette. Silence settled over them. There was just the gasping noise the boy was making, and the rasping of a match as William held a flame to the tobacco.

All of a sudden the boy flung himself at the door, opened it, and bounded through. William leapt after him, as if he had been expecting it, and threw out his foot. The boy tripped heavily. Frances ran to the door and saw him sprawled, with his head in the dirt of the street. William plucked him off the ground by his collar and dragged him inside. The boy slithered down the wall into a squat and stayed there until the inspector came and took him away.

Afterwards, William’s boy spoke angrily to William, but he waved him away.

“He’s annoyed,” William said to her, as if to excuse himself. “The boy was his cousin.”

“Why couldn’t you have let him go? He was almost out of the door.”

“My, how your morality changes,” William mocked. “I thought you didn’t like thieves?” She looked away from him, angry. He drew on his cigarette, then after a moment said in a more serious voice, “I thought it might have been a trap. It was the safest thing to do.”

“What will happen to the boy?”

“You know what will happen to him, Frances,” he said, turning away from her and walking into the bedroom. “Don’t always make me responsible for the things you don’t want to hear.”

•   •   •

S
HE
LAY
AWAKE
for a long while, listening to the deep rhythms of William’s breathing. She had thought that by coming to live with him she wouldn’t have to see the brutal side of Kimberley; that she could escape the feeling of injustice which had first settled over her when the man lay dying in her lap. She hadn’t wanted Edwin to be right, she realized. She had hoped there was a legitimacy to William’s business, and a strength of logic, which made sense of the mines. But the feeling of injustice had followed her here, and when she thought about the boy being dragged off to Breakwater she couldn’t justify William’s behavior. Illicit diamond buying was a cutthroat business, with every man out for himself. It undermined the civilized pretensions of the whole industry.