Before the Rains

by Dinah Jefferies

  ‘I …’

  ‘I have embarrassed you. Forgive me. But you will need to cover your shoulders.’

  ‘Oh! I almost forgot,’ Eliza said, and dashed to the wardrobe where the shawl was hanging. She took it out and held it up for Laxmi to see.

  The older woman ran her fingers over it. ‘This is very fine indeed. Where did you get it?’

  ‘Clifford Salter.’

  ‘He’s a good upstanding fellow. Isn’t that what the British would say?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Perhaps not the most handsome among men.’ Laxmi looked her up and down. ‘But you could do worse.’

  ‘I’m not in the market for a husband.’

  ‘Isn’t every woman in the market for a good husband?’

  Eliza smiled. ‘Is that what you really think?’

  As Laxmi sighed, Eliza could sense her melancholy. ‘I was lucky. I had a very happy marriage with a wonderful man. We were equals. That is not often the case here in the royal courts. But now, let us speak about you. What are your hopes and expectations? Even if you are not looking for a husband, there are many kinds of love. Without it your heart will be empty.’

  ‘For now I love my work.’

  The woman smiled. ‘Indeed. Now come, let me show you the best place from which to watch the procession. We few modern-thinking women must stick together, especially these days.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You will need all the friends you can get, and don’t forget what I said about Clifford Salter. A white married woman in India has more freedom than a single woman.’

  ‘I’ll remember that … I was hoping you might tell me about the bells I hear every day. I know they’re temple bells.’

  ‘They call us to our prayers, or pujas as we call them. You will find that here in Rajputana everything we do becomes a ritual or rite of some kind or other, and that in a way the gods we pray to symbolize various forces in our lives. We don’t distinguish between the sacred and our ordinary lives. To us they are one.’

  ‘I see. It’s very different.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine it is. Well, enjoy your night.’ The woman turned to leave.

  ‘Actually, Laxmi,’ Eliza said. ‘I’d like to go out to one of the villages to photograph the local people if I may.’

  ‘Think of it as already done.’

  The colonnaded archway lining the largest exterior gateway into the castle was illuminated by flaming torches fixed to marble urns, each one guarded by a single manservant wearing white. Once Laxmi had left her alone, Eliza looked down on the scene from a balcony and saw a long line of silver and gold howdahs, atop jewelled and painted elephants lumbering up the hill past a wall festooned with flowers. When they came to a standstill she gasped out loud, but not at the spangled spectacle laid out before her. In the space of one chilling moment she was ten years old again and leaning from a different balcony; the one where she had tried to wave at her father. Her eyes began to smart and she struggled to control her tears; she could not allow this to happen now. For years she had steeled herself against her weakness, taught herself discipline, made herself strong inside and out. She could not fail now.

  ‘Eliza?’

  She spun round and saw Jayant wearing a dark angharki or coat, deeply cut out in the front and threaded with gold. His teeth seemed very white against his dark lips and gleaming skin, and the fan of lines at the edges of his eyes grew deeper as he smiled. He was standing stock still and staring at her and the moment during which they held each other’s eyes went on too long. As he blinked, she realized that there was something truly genuine about this man. And that something was affecting her deeply. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came. Then the moment was suddenly over as, ashamed of him seeing her weakness, she roughly brushed her tears away and took a step back, desperately trying to think of something to say to excuse her emotional reaction.

  ‘It’s very beautiful,’ she managed to say. ‘The procession.’

  ‘As are you. Who would have thought it? I take back everything I said about your hair.’

  She blinked rapidly. Please don’t let him be kind to her.

  ‘Will you allow me to escort you down?’

  She nodded, feeling a mixture of relief that the moment of embarrassing shame was over, but also feeling uncertain about the consequences of making an entrance on the handsome Prince’s arm.

  As they headed towards the wide marble staircase curling down to the main durbar hall, she calmed herself and tried to relax. She felt very much on show and couldn’t help feeling nervous being so close to him like this, and not only because of what other people might think. And her misgivings on that score were not in vain, because as they descended she caught Indira’s eye. The girl wore a stunning scarlet outfit, but the way her eyes narrowed with sullen envy worried Eliza. That Indira was in love with Jay was clear, and though Eliza glanced sideways to see how he would react, he hardly seemed to have noticed Indi. Had he been at fault? Led the girl on? Or had Indira’s adoration grown out of years of friendly proximity? Eliza hoped it was the latter.

  Once the elephants had been unloaded of their cargo of aristocratic nobles and their retainers, all the guests were shepherded into the durbar hall by castle guards wearing formal livery. An orchestra was already playing western music on a stage at one end and, while everyone waited for the Maharajah and his wife, Eliza swayed to the music. When Anish appeared, sporting a dazzling array of jewels worn over a kurta of deep blue satin, the room fell silent and it seemed as if the entire assembly held its breath. Priya followed him, eyes cast down, wearing a pale pink skirt, bodice and matching scarf, with jewel-encrusted bangles all the way up her arms and around her ankles too.

  The royals seated themselves on satin cushions topping thrones of ebony and silver, set on a dais at the opposite end from the orchestra. Once they were comfortable, Laxmi, Jay and the Maharajah’s daughters joined them there. A roar went up from the crowd of about two hundred nobles and important families from around the state, as well as a scattering of local citizens, and the orchestra struck up a cheering tune.

  A space was cleared and the Indian entertainment began with a dholan, a woman who played a drum and sang. Then came gypsy dancing girls, whirling and leaping with extraordinary grace. Eliza had been looking out for Dottie but she and Julian didn’t appear to have turned up. In any case, despite her earlier distress, Eliza was fully enjoying the evening; people had been friendly and she wasn’t the fish out of water she’d expected to be. At one point she spotted Indira and Jayant talking, their heads bent close together, and when Indira turned on her heels and fled the room Eliza’s heart ached for her. She decided to see if the girl might be outside.

  She had hoped to find Indi on one of the tall swings made for women. They were typical of the region and much in evidence in the courtyards of the castle, but that part of the garden was empty, so she walked to a subtly lit corner where the scent of jasmine drifted across. The air was cooler than she expected and, wrapping the shawl around her shoulders, she gazed up at the stars. The same feeling of magic she’d experienced on the rooftop of the summer palace gusted on a light breeze, and she wished for something she couldn’t define. She had closed her heart to the expectation of love and had placed all her energy into reaching outside herself and revealing the essence of a scene in just one brief moment. This was something divine when it worked.

  As she turned to go back inside, she spotted Clifford walking towards her with a slightly uneven gait.

  ‘Eliza. Eliza,’ he said. ‘My dear, dear girl. What are you up to out here?’

  ‘I might ask you the same?’

  ‘Looking for you.’ He stood still for a moment, then came up close, gave her an enquiring look and spoke in a low voice. ‘Noticed anything of interest lately?’

  She stared at the ground for a moment before raising her head. ‘Like what?’

  ‘Chatur behaving himself?’

  ‘I guess so, though he does s
eem a bit interfering.’

  He laughed. ‘That’s Chatur all right … See much of Anish and that wife of his?’

  She frowned. ‘Not really. What’s all this about?’

  ‘Just making conversation, my dear. Shall we stroll?’

  ‘Of course.’

  As they wound their way beneath oil lamps that lit a narrow path, he was largely silent, though it wasn’t an easy silence. She was just wondering what to say when he spoke, the tone of his voice deeper than before.

  ‘Eliza, I have known you since you were a child in India.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Though of course I didn’t see much of you while you were growing up in England.’

  ‘You came to the house once. I remember that.’

  ‘Do you have any idea how fond of you I am becoming?’

  ‘That’s very flattering.’ She drew in her breath and gave herself time to think. ‘You have been very kind to me, Clifford. I know that, but I don’t really know you all that well and you don’t know me, at least not who I am now anyway.’

  ‘Eliza, I’m not talking about kindness! I’d like us to get to know each other better. Do you see?’

  This was exactly what she hadn’t bargained for, but how perceptive Laxmi had been and how stupid she herself had been not to have seen it coming.

  He leant towards her and, smelling the whisky and cigars on his breath, she took a step back, fearful that he might try to kiss her.

  ‘You’re a very handsome woman. I know it’s not that long since you lost your husband but –’

  She interrupted. ‘I’m sorry, Clifford, I’m just not ready.’

  He must have seen the look in her eyes, because he reached out and held her gently by the shoulders. ‘I would never rush you. Just give yourself a chance to get to know me. That’s all I ask.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Is it because I’m older than you? Is that it? Because men can continue to father children and I’m not yet fifty and –’

  Prompted by the need to curtail this, she interrupted. ‘Clifford, I like you very much …’ She paused, thinking of his white ankle and the red hairs, but then became aware of a look of sadness in his eyes.

  ‘Wouldn’t that be a good start? Liking, I mean?’ he said.

  Eliza didn’t want to hurt or offend him but, for a moment or two, could not speak.

  ‘Well, I wanted to declare myself. It would be kind if you’d consider what I’ve said. I can give you a beautiful home and I am an honourable man, not like …’ He paused.

  ‘Not like?’

  ‘Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Just think about what I’ve said. I am absolutely genuine in my intent.’

  ‘As I said, I am very flattered.’

  ‘Please take into account that there are not so many British to choose from over here. Have you thought about afterwards? What you’ll do when the project is completed?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Maybe you should. In any case, I hope I can convince you that I have your best interests at heart.’

  As he walked away, Eliza went to where there was a square pool that had been surrounded by candles. Small three-sided muslin tents circled the pool with the open side facing the water, each one just large enough for two people. She went over to the furthest one and sank into one of its thick silk cushions. There was a loud explosion and suddenly fireworks lit up the sky. At first Eliza tensed at the sound, but then she watched the spectacle and when it was over, close to tears for the second time that night, this time with no real understanding why, she gazed at the reflections of the candlelight dancing on the water and felt overcome by loneliness.

  On the other side of the pool she saw that Jay was walking alone and seemingly deep in thought. He glanced across and caught her eye and she felt again the same connection that she’d felt just before they’d gone down the stairs to the durbar hall together. Now he walked around the pool towards her and, when he reached her, he smiled and asked if she was all right out there on her own. She nodded and he seemed to hesitate before bowing and walking away.

  7

  For a week or so everything seemed to go smoothly, and Eliza quickly dismissed the tears she had shed on the night of the durbar as fanciful. This was not the time to allow any kind of emotion to get in her way. This was a time to work. So far the staff allowed her free access to most of the castle, including the kitchens and store room, and even the women of the zenana were friendly. In fact, when she discovered Anish still kept concubines, Eliza found herself gravitating towards the women, many of whom were old and had been there since his father’s time. Some of the women told stories of being brought as babies to be taken in by the castle. Many had never left the castle since. But they laughed and sewed and sang and, when she was with them, Eliza experienced a kind of camaraderie that was entirely new to her.

  It bore no relation to the time she’d spent in a minor girls’ boarding school, courtesy of a man her mother had called an ‘uncle’. His name was James Langton and Eliza knew that he was not any kind of relation at all, though she and her mother were given a small lodge on his estate and all Anna had to do in return was check up on his staff whenever he went away.

  Up until now the ease with which other people appeared to be rooted so securely in their world had escaped Eliza. But now, even if the women of the zenana might gossip about her when she wasn’t there, Eliza didn’t mind. She found them fun to be with. The girls at the boarding school had not been fun and she hadn’t trusted any of them. But she only heard the women of the zenana being spiteful after one of those days when Priya had joined them, and Eliza could tell the women didn’t trust their Maharani.

  Just as Eliza was taking a photograph of one of the younger concubines, Indira entered the room carrying a bag and speaking in English so that none of the other women could understand.

  ‘You want to see something?’ she said, with a wide grin on her face, and, looking pleased with herself, she pulled up a chair and threw herself down.

  ‘Depends.’

  ‘A kind of funeral.’

  As the words sank in, Eliza frowned. She’d had more than enough of funerals.

  ‘You’ll like it. I promise.’

  Eliza hesitated. She hadn’t seen much of Indi since the night of the ball, when the girl had so clearly revealed her jealousy.

  ‘Kiri is coming.’

  ‘Really? The handmaid?’

  Indi nodded. ‘We’re meeting her in town.’

  Eliza made a decision and began packing up. ‘I’ve finished here, so why not. Can’t be too long though, as I want to develop the plates as soon as I get back. Is it all right if I take my Rolleiflex?’

  ‘If you carry it in a bag over your shoulder.’

  She then jumped up and held something out. ‘We won’t be long but you will need to change. I’ve brought Indian clothes.’

  ‘Where from?’

  Indi tilted her head to one side and smiled mysteriously. ‘I can get anything. Now change.’

  ‘In front of these women?’

  Indi laughed. ‘Of course. We are all women together here. They have seen it all before. You can pick your own clothes up later.’

  Eliza was not a prude but, as she changed, her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she attempted to cover different parts of herself. The women laughed and chattered, speaking so fast that Eliza couldn’t follow. It seemed good-natured enough, though the excitement of seeing a semi-naked white woman turning raspberry pink was probably rivetingly new for them. By the time it was finished, Eliza, wearing the typical full skirt and figure-hugging blouse, felt quite different.

  As they left the zenana Indi suddenly pushed Eliza into a recess in the corridor. Eliza frowned, but Indi had a finger to her lips. After a moment she spoke.

  ‘Chatur! The dewan – the senior court official.’

  Eliza remembered the man’s shadowy dark eyes and bushy brows. ‘So?’

  ‘He has eyes in the back of his head. He’
s used to me, but the less he knows about you the better. He’ll want to poke his nose into everything you do if you’re not careful. Come on. He’s gone.’

  ‘Why do I have to be careful?’

  ‘He hates change and is no friend of the British. I doubt he approves of you being here at all. He is very old-fashioned. He and Priya are close. Both best avoided.’

  After that Indira chatted about this and that. Whatever the upset at the ball had been about, it seemed to have passed. Maybe Indi and Jay had managed to talk? Either way Eliza felt relieved that no more trouble beckoned. Enthralled by glimpses of castle life, she had been worrying that bad feeling might spoil things. As for Clifford, she put him to the back of her mind.

  This was Eliza’s first real visit to the heart of the medieval town and it was where they met up with Kiri, who would be accompanying them. Excited by the vibrant colours inside the tangle of winding streets, Eliza’s heart began to beat a little faster. The bazaars of the old city seemed to radiate in narrow ribbons from the main clock tower and, as Eliza followed Indi and Kiri, they passed everything from tie-dyers to puppet-makers; it crossed her mind that if she got lost here she’d never get out again. Would these bustling people help her, all with their own little lives, their own joys, their own fears, seeming so close yet possibly so far apart from one another?

  In the spice markets the scents of incense drifted around them, as did the tangy aroma of charcoal-cooked goat. Then, as they went further and further through bazaars selling everything from sweets to sarees, the drone of a drum seemed to grow louder, just as the whiff of drains grew stronger.

  ‘Is it a festival?’ she asked, knowing that India’s love of festivity ranged from celebrating the birth of a god, or a satisfactory harvest, to the many music festivals.

  ‘Not quite.’

  Eliza paused in the middle of the street. ‘So?’

  Indi beamed back at her as she walked on. ‘Kiri’s family are puppeteers. Today is a special day for them. Come on, or you’ll be run over by a rickshaw.’

  ‘But you said …’

  ‘It was a funeral. And it is. In a way.’