On Far Malayan Shores by Tara Haigh

Author:Tara Haigh [Haigh, Tara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542019736
Published: 2019-12-14T22:00:00+00:00

A formal visit called for thorough preparation – and not just in terms of clothing. Heather’s suggestion that they should get back as early as possible had proven wise. Ella was very glad that she had packed a suitable dress, and her blue evening gown – which she had already worn on special occasions during the crossing – was exceptionally elegant. Her curls had grown particularly unruly in the hot climate, but Heather lent her a few hairpins to tame them with. Like Heather, Ella opted to wear her hair up, leaving two strands that wound down her temples and curled playfully around her earrings – likewise borrowed from Heather’s jewellery collection.

Marjory’s hairstyle was austere compared to Ella’s and Heather’s, as was her black outfit, while Heather’s salmon-pink dress was more understated. She must have put on a corset too, judging by her perfect waist – and to think that she was wearing one in this heat! Even Raj, who had been promoted to an elegant coachman for the evening, was clad in a grey suit that looked very smart on him.

The hour-long coach ride to the north proved entertaining, albeit rather exhausting, as Ella was given a lengthy who’s who account of the invited guests. Marjory held forth, with Heather adding titbits here and there. It was impossible to remember the names of all the high-ranking officials, fellow British plantation owners, tin mine operators travelling down from the north, and influential traders. All Ella had taken away from the lesson was that the powerful people who effectively governed the country all congregated at Mary Bridgewater’s once a year to celebrate and do business. The only details she had found interesting enough to retain were those concerning Mary Bridgewater herself – though they were limited to vague conjecture, since nobody seemed to know exactly why this sixty-three-year-old woman exerted so much influence throughout Malacca. She didn’t come from a noble family, nor did she occupy a particularly high rank.

‘There are rumours that Mary is distantly related to the royal family.’ Marjory’s explanation seemed the most likely to Ella. From all these descriptions, she imagined Mary’s house to be more magnificent than it was, and certainly bigger and more impressive than the Fosters’ – yet the exact opposite proved to be the case. At first glance, it reminded Ella of the middle-class cottages she had seen in England. It had a masonry foundation and a wattle-and-daub façade with dark beams intersecting patches of white plaster, and was capped by a steep tiled roof lined with dormer windows. There was even a lawn, and if it weren’t for the palms dotted throughout the extensive garden, the European plants would have made Ella think that she really was in England. Rose bushes wound their way up the sides of the house – perhaps thanks to the altitude. It was significantly cooler up here than on the plain or by the coast.

‘Little England,’ exclaimed Ella, as Raj stopped the coach by the entrance to let them out.

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