waiting for a response, she went to the heavily carved wardrobe and selected a straw bonnet with blue ribbons that exactly matched the shade of her eyes, and a lace shawl. Her fingers shook with excitement as she put the bonnet on her head and tied the ribbons in a jaunty bow just below her left ear. She draped the shawl around her shoulders and made for the door, but then she realised that Naomi was standing like a statue in the middle of the room. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t look so scared. We’re only going to Denpasar, not the moon.’
Naomi shook her head. ‘
Tan, missy. Tan.
’
Lucetta understood enough Balinese to know that this was a point blank refusal. She could hardly drag the unwilling maid all the way to the docks and there was no one else whom she could trust to accompany her without reporting to Jackson. She would just have to go alone.
In the stables, the head groom met her request with a firm refusal. Sir John and Lady Boothby had taken both carriages and he had strict instructions that Missy should not ride out alone. Lucetta tried everything but no amount of wheedling could make him change his mind, and she was forced to retreat, temporarily beaten. Reluctantly, she returned to her room, pacing the floorand racking her brains for a solution to her problem. She took off her bonnet and tossed it onto a chair where a length of songket, a beautiful fabric used for ceremonial sarongs, had been left to await the dressmaker who was supposed to be coming later that morning in order to take her measurements. The delicate material interwoven with gold thread would make a stunning evening gown, but suddenly Lucetta had another use for it.
She fumbled with the tiny fabric-covered buttons at the back of her morning gown and stepped out of the crinoline cage, allowing it to glide to the floor. Taking a white cotton blouse from her wardrobe she put it on and then, copying the manner of dress of the Balinese women, she wrapped the length of cloth around her body to form a sarong. She studied her reflection in the cheval mirror, but to her chagrin she looked like a young English girl in fancy dress. With her pale complexion and silver-blonde hair she would never pass as a local girl. She rummaged feverishly in the cedar chest and found a long, multi-coloured silk scarf which she wound around her head. The result was far from convincing, but, she reasoned, who would give her a second glance? If she kept her head down and stuck to the shade of the pandanus and palm trees, who would notice yet another village girl hurrying to market in Denpasar?
Slipping out of the consulate grounds was easier than she anticipated. The gatekeeper was busy raking the gravel and the rest of the servants were going about their daily tasks. No one gave her a second glance asshe left the compound. She crossed the dusty road and set off in the direction of the town, but she had no idea how far it was. It had only seemed a short carriage ride from the harbour to the consulate, but she soon found that walking in the heat of the day was a very different proposition from being driven in the consul’s well-sprung landau. Within minutes she was hot and thirsty and cursing herself for not thinking of equipping herself with a water bottle. She had some coins tucked into her bodice for emergencies and with luck she might come across a wayside vendor selling coconut milk. As the sun rose in the cloudless sky the heat became even more intense; far hotter than she could have imagined when confined to the marble coolness of the consulate or the shady gardens.
A cloud of dust in the distance and the muffled sound of horses’ hooves was enough to send her stumbling for cover into the thick undergrowth at the side of the road. The riders went past at a spanking pace, throwing up miniature dust storms. Choking and covering her face with her hands, Lucetta backed further into the tangle of pandanus roots and oleander bushes. She did not hear the snap of
Naomi shook her head. ‘
Tan, missy. Tan.
’
Lucetta understood enough Balinese to know that this was a point blank refusal. She could hardly drag the unwilling maid all the way to the docks and there was no one else whom she could trust to accompany her without reporting to Jackson. She would just have to go alone.
In the stables, the head groom met her request with a firm refusal. Sir John and Lady Boothby had taken both carriages and he had strict instructions that Missy should not ride out alone. Lucetta tried everything but no amount of wheedling could make him change his mind, and she was forced to retreat, temporarily beaten. Reluctantly, she returned to her room, pacing the floorand racking her brains for a solution to her problem. She took off her bonnet and tossed it onto a chair where a length of songket, a beautiful fabric used for ceremonial sarongs, had been left to await the dressmaker who was supposed to be coming later that morning in order to take her measurements. The delicate material interwoven with gold thread would make a stunning evening gown, but suddenly Lucetta had another use for it.
She fumbled with the tiny fabric-covered buttons at the back of her morning gown and stepped out of the crinoline cage, allowing it to glide to the floor. Taking a white cotton blouse from her wardrobe she put it on and then, copying the manner of dress of the Balinese women, she wrapped the length of cloth around her body to form a sarong. She studied her reflection in the cheval mirror, but to her chagrin she looked like a young English girl in fancy dress. With her pale complexion and silver-blonde hair she would never pass as a local girl. She rummaged feverishly in the cedar chest and found a long, multi-coloured silk scarf which she wound around her head. The result was far from convincing, but, she reasoned, who would give her a second glance? If she kept her head down and stuck to the shade of the pandanus and palm trees, who would notice yet another village girl hurrying to market in Denpasar?
Slipping out of the consulate grounds was easier than she anticipated. The gatekeeper was busy raking the gravel and the rest of the servants were going about their daily tasks. No one gave her a second glance asshe left the compound. She crossed the dusty road and set off in the direction of the town, but she had no idea how far it was. It had only seemed a short carriage ride from the harbour to the consulate, but she soon found that walking in the heat of the day was a very different proposition from being driven in the consul’s well-sprung landau. Within minutes she was hot and thirsty and cursing herself for not thinking of equipping herself with a water bottle. She had some coins tucked into her bodice for emergencies and with luck she might come across a wayside vendor selling coconut milk. As the sun rose in the cloudless sky the heat became even more intense; far hotter than she could have imagined when confined to the marble coolness of the consulate or the shady gardens.
A cloud of dust in the distance and the muffled sound of horses’ hooves was enough to send her stumbling for cover into the thick undergrowth at the side of the road. The riders went past at a spanking pace, throwing up miniature dust storms. Choking and covering her face with her hands, Lucetta backed further into the tangle of pandanus roots and oleander bushes. She did not hear the snap of
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