Ryman, Rebecca (98 page)

He
searched her face with a frown, then smiled a little uncertainly. "Ah, I
can almost hear those tireless little wheels spinning away inside that
indefatigable brain! What are you thinking of this time, my dear—pulling
another wee rabbit out of that magic hat of yours?"

"No,"
Olivia answered with perfect truth, "what I am thinking of this time is
Captain Mathieson Z. Tucker. And something he once told me."

If
there was much about Hiram Arrowsmith Lubbock that bewildered Calcutta's
well-ordered, neatly defined society, the feisty southerner returned the
compliment with hearty feeling. A prime exporter of best quality long-staple
American cotton from Mississippi to Europe and England, Lubbock had arrived in
station at the invitation of some conscientious officers of John Company.
Bengal's cotton industry, which produced only short-staple cotton unsuitable
for Lancashire's textile mills, was flagging; it was believed that an American
expert might well help to revive it. Lubbock, on his part, had come to the
Orient—as he had no qualms about informing all and sundry with what was
considered vulgar openness—to make his second fortune in life. He had heard, he
told anyone who cared to listen, that the streets of Calcutta were paved with
gold. But from what he had observed so far (as he also informed all and
sundry), if the streets
were
paved with anything, it was "what oxen
perdoos jes' as waal in Calhoun as in Calcutta." And he was fed up to the
teeth with his woeful lack of business activity. All he had done since he had
arrived was to distribute a few ploughs, some hundred or so bushels of cotton
seed and a negligible number of cotton gins. The men he dealt with in Writers'
Building, Lubbock maintained, were indolent, ignorant and pompous, and couldn't
tell cotton from candy-floss anyway. Now he was rapidly coming to the
conclusion that the Orient was strictly for the birds. It was bad enough having
to speak a foreign language (since he couldn't understand a word anyone said
and vice versa), but from the time he had left the American ship that had
brought him to India, he
had not even had a decent drink of bourbon. And that, to Hal Lubbock, was the
bottom line.

Which
was why it was only after he had consumed several glasses of his favourite
brand that Olivia eventually decided to get down to business with him. The
mandatory small talk had been dispensed with, a mutual sizing up concluded; now
it was time for brass tacks. "I have a deal to suggest to you, Mr.
Lubbock," Olivia began. "From what you have told me about yourself, I
feel you will be interested."

"A
deal?" He looked somewhat taken aback. "What kinda deal, my'am?"

"One
that will, if tackled with imagination, fetch you top dollar, Mr. Lubbock. What
I am about to suggest, however, might be a little out of your line."

He
stared into his drink with a frown, then inched forward in his chair. "For
top dollah, my'am," he said simply, "there ain't nothin' that's outta
mah lahn."

Whatever
his battles with the Queen's English, "top dollar" and "a
deal" were part of a vocabulary Lubbock understood perfectly. Deals and
top dollar were what he had been making all his life. Indeed, to him they
were
what life was all about. For the first time since he had arrived in this
goddamn country, he was being served a man's drink, talked to in a language
that restored his faith in the human condition and entertained charmingly by a
true-blue American gal from Sacramento. For the moment Hal Lubbock asked for
nothing more. He listened entranced. When Olivia had concluded her detailed
explanations, he sat back and mulled over what he had heard.

"Furniture?"
he asked, more than a little puzzled. "Yuh mean,
chairs
and
things?"

"Yes,
precisely, Mr. Lubbock. Chairs and things. Lots of things."

He
scratched his abundantly brilliantined head for a moment, then laughed.
"Waal, ah'll be god
damned!"

Olivia
decided in that instant that she liked Hiram Arrow-smith Lubbock. He was a
huge, bull-necked man with a quick smile full of gold teeth, and his clothes
were shockingly loud. But like all self-made men he was tough, shrewd, blunt
and practical. It was a combination Olivia knew and trusted. The fact that he
stood out in India like a mocking-bird among peacocks didn't bother her.
Whatever his social inadequacies, for her immediate purpose she needed Lubbock
badly.

"Come,
Mr. Lubbock." She turned brisk as soon as he had finished his fourth
drink. "Let me show you exactly what I have in mind."

The
next hour was spent with obvious profit for, at the end of it, Hal Lubbock's
expression of puzzlement had translated into positive interest. "Top
dollah, eh?" He stroked his chin and reflected.

"So
I have been assured, Mr. Lubbock. Naturally you will wish to conduct your own
investigations through your agents abroad."

"Uh-huh."
He was already busy scribbling rough calculations. "And yuh think this
could be stahted raht away?"

"Yes.
Right away." He nodded, his eyes crinkled and shrewd. Olivia explained
further. "So far, Mr. Lubbock, it seems no one has attempted such an
export from here on any sizable scale. My informant has made a few sales
himself and he sees an enormous potential in Europe and America. The markets
might be restricted but I'm told the profits are not. Those who can afford it
will pay generous money."

Lubbock
nodded again. "Wall, why not?" His golden smile twinkled in the
lights of the chandeliers. "Ah'm as game for a good deal as the next man,
my'am, and ah've nevah knocked a challenge. Besides, this sure tickles mah
fancy, my'am, by God it does!"

"Excellent."
Olivia dazzled him with one of her own smiles. "But now I must mention a
condition, one that goes with the deal. I hope you can consider it favourably."

Confronted
with a fresh bottle of bourbon, bought off an American ship at absurd cost
purely for Lubbock's benefit, he beamed and turned expansive. "For top
dollah, my'am, there ain't nothin' I cahn't consider favourably. Jes' lay it on
the lahn, Yer Ladyship, jes' lay it on the lahn."

"Furniture?"
Arthur
Ransome looked even more blank than Lubbock initially had. "Good grief,
girl, what do I know about
furniture . . .?"

"You
don't need to know anything, Uncle Arthur," Olivia assured him.
"Lubbock will manage everything. You will merely be a sleeping
partner—and, of course, an equal sharer of the profits."

"But
Lubbock is a cotton man! Why on earth should he want to start exporting Chinese
furniture?"

"Well,
for two reasons. Primarily, he's a businessman. He'll put his hand to anything
that promises good returns, and this does. And, the prospect of doing something
nobody else has yet appeals to his sense of adventure. Captain Tucker told me
that abroad elaborately carved Chinese furniture is considered exotic and a
status symbol. All we have to do is supply the wood."

"You
mean, he plans to make the furniture here? In Calcutta?"

"Yes.
Mary Ling's father and brothers are professional carpenters. They trained in
Shanghai and they're confident they can copy exactly the pieces that I have at
home as well as those at the Templewood house. They even have the original
Chinese lacquers and a source for future supplies."

"By
George!" Ransome gasped weakly. "You
have
been busy, haven't
you! I hardly know what to say."

"Just
say yes. Lubbock will do the rest."

Ransome
relapsed into thought. With his shoulders increasingly stooped, his cherubic
face now pinched and sallow, his eyes tired, he looked as desolate as the once
bustling offices in which they sat. Most of the staff had been disbanded. Only
Hugh Yarrow, Munshi Babu and one or two peons remained. The Canton
establishment had already been closed. With no incomings, the heavy
compensations being paid for the mine disaster had sucked their savings dry.
Their only daily visitors were now incensed and impatient creditors. Even the
Parsi landlord who owned the premises had given them notice to vacate. Very
soon, Raventhorne's last wish would also be fulfilled; there would be no
Templewood and Ransome name plate on the door.

But,
as he introspected, it was not on these familiar problems that Ransome's
thoughts dwelt. Olivia's project, although for his benefit, worried him for
reasons he could not pin-point. "This wood you want me to supply, I
presume it is from the
Daffodil?"

"No,
Uncle Arthur. It will be from the timber market. The
Daffodil
will be
sold to Jai Raventhorne as she is, but only after he has doubled his
offer." He sat up with a jolt and Olivia's eyes twinkled. "Or,
possibly trebled it. We only have to maintain the myth of the ship's
dismemberment for a while. In the meantime, Lubbock plans to make contact with
you presently." As she got up, something kicked hard inside her stomach
and she winced, but then the pang passed. Olivia smiled. It was an internal
activity that never failed to give her encouragement. "Oh, by the
way, Lubbock is
willing to purchase your property. He feels the servants' compound and quarters
would be ideal for a workshop. The house, of course, he plans to live in."

Ransome
gave a sharp intake of breath. "You used that as a condition for helping
him set up this project?"

"No."

Ransome
received her lie in silence but he did not challenge it. The bright gleam of
triumph in her beautiful amber eyes, the small smile of complacency, the grooves
of determination on either side of her mouth—all these again filled him with
unease. He loved the girl dearly; he knew he could trust her with his life. In
all their travails she had remained steadfast by their side, loyal and loving.
But now he was worried, truly worried. Something other than what he had been
told was brewing in that unusually sharp brain of hers. And right at that
moment Ransome would have given a great deal to know what it was.

Had
he been in a position to know, he would have been even more disturbed. What was
brewing in Olivia's brain at that moment was that it was now time to pay a
visit to Jai Raventhorne.

Willie
Donaldson was aghast. "You canna go visiting a scoundrel such as Jai
Raventhorne, Your Ladyship! Why, it's . . . it's na
decent!"

"Why
not?" Olivia inquired, wide eyed with innocence. "Mr. Raventhorne is
a business associate. He has been to my house socially and very formally
introduced to me by my cousin. I shall be calling on him at his office during
business hours, Mr. Donaldson. I can't imagine anything more decent than
that!"