He indicated the bench under the peepal tree. ‘That do you?’
She nodded and he called for the butler to bring them sweet iced lassi, and then they seated themselves.
As she settled on the bench, Eliza gazed at the garden. The recent rains had refreshed it and there was a slight breeze too. The grass was more luminous than before and the trees looked green; even the flowers had perked up. It’s amazing how much difference water makes to life here, she thought. But she wasn’t here to discuss water, what she wanted was answers, and no matter how unnerved she might feel, nothing was going to stop her.
‘So?’ Clifford said, twisting sideways so that he could look at her. ‘What do you mean by going off like that? And yes, I know who you’ve been with. I didn’t for a minute believe that little fabrication of Dottie’s.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I should think you are. And with Jayant Singh of all people!’
She didn’t speak.
‘Eliza, you must have noticed that these Indian chaps are effeminate, with all that jewellery and fancy garb.’
She stiffened and, having had enough of British arrogance and prejudice to last a lifetime, couldn’t conceal her irritation.
‘If you were ever to consider marrying an Indian you would be ostracized by both communities. Miscegenation is condemned on both sides, you know. I consider it a betrayal of Imperial principles.’
‘I’m not prepared to discuss that with you. I have made up my own mind about the British in India and I will only say that I see things very differently. This is not our country, Clifford, it is theirs and they have a right to do things their way. As for Jay, that is between me and him.’
‘So that’s how you feel. I must say I am disappointed.’
‘That’s as may be. But now I need to ask you some questions and I’d appreciate some honest answers.’
He looked taken aback. ‘I rather think I’m the one who should be asking questions. You, after all, were the one who ran off and then broke our engagement in a letter. You didn’t even have the decency to tell me to my face.’
Eliza knew he had a point and was not without shame, but she was not to be deterred either. ‘I’m truly sorry for it, but it wasn’t planned,’ she said, and met his gaze.
He sniffed. ‘And what was the plan? Have a fling with the Prince and then come crawling back to reliable old Clifford? I thought better of you.’
‘There was no plan at all,’ she said, rather sadly.
They were silent for a few moments and then he spoke again. ‘I find it hard to forgive that you persuaded Dottie to lie for you.’
She didn’t tell him it had been Dottie’s idea. ‘Please let’s not bicker,’ she said instead. ‘I have more important things on my mind. And if we’re talking of lying, why did you lie so blatantly about Jay’s arrest?’
He gave her an uncertain look but didn’t speak.
‘You knew Jay was already being released when I came to you. Chatur had been to see you and told you there had been a mistake and that the culprit was Dev. I don’t suppose Chatur admitted his own involvement, but you didn’t arrest Dev, did you? Why not, Clifford?’
When she glanced at him she saw that he seemed to be studying her face, as if looking for clues that might tell him how much she really knew. She composed herself. Let him feel the unease, she thought.
Then after a moment she nodded. ‘Yes. I know the truth. And what’s more, I think I know why you let it happen.’
‘And that was?’
‘You knew I’d come running the moment you arrested Jay, didn’t you?’
He gave a little shake of his head. ‘It wasn’t quite like that.’
‘No more lies, Clifford. You counted on the fact that I would agree to marry you to secure Jay’s release.’
‘And yet I didn’t need to persuade you. It was you who offered.’
She stared at him. ‘More fool me!’
Clifford’s jaw stiffened and he looked away.
‘You also knew that if Jay was found guilty it would forever preclude him from ruling. But I think you guessed it was never going to stick.’
‘I admit I’d smelt a rat from the start. Not only that, even before Chatur arrived to tell me it was Dev, the girl came running, telling me the truth and begging for Jay’s release …’
She frowned. ‘The girl? What girl?’
He got to his feet, took a few steps away and then twisted back and, looking at her, seemed unable to speak, as if he was turning something over in his mind.
‘What girl, Clifford?’
‘Indira, of course.’
‘Indi? She wasn’t in it too?’
‘No. Dev had let slip to her what he and Chatur were up to. She’d never hurt Jay, though she might have wanted to hurt you.’ He paused. ‘Her own sister.’
The breeze dropped and everything in the garden stilled. Eliza could feel the beating of her own heart but her mouth had gone dry and she was unable to find the words she needed. What on earth was Clifford talking about?
‘Indira is your half-sister,’ he said, enunciating slowly as if he thought her a fool. ‘She is your father’s bastard.’
She stood, but her legs shook beneath her and she had to reach out to steady herself on the arm of the bench. ‘You are making it up,’ she said, ‘just trying to provoke me.’ But her voice was flat and something told her this was true. She thought of the photograph she had found in her mother’s attic and, covering her mouth with her hand, kept wishing he would tell her it was just a joke, but he shook his head.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s the truth.’
She felt like howling, but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing he had been successful. In a way she didn’t blame him, for she had hurt him and now it was his turn to hurt her. She forced herself to stand tall. Just as Jay was with her in every breath she took, she realized Indi had been too. She wondered how she could have been so blind.
‘Are you all right?’ Clifford said quite kindly, though nothing could pacify her now.
She turned on him, speaking angrily. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I didn’t want to hurt you. Truly. I genuinely cared for you.’
‘I’m not made of glass.’
‘She’s illegitimate. You could hardly have been friends, let alone sisters.’
Eliza sat down again. ‘I always wanted a sister. All my life I wanted a sister.’ And then she remembered what her mother had said about turning the dirty child away. Her mother had turned Indi away; her father had been unfaithful. It was all true. Every accusatory word her mother had spoken had been true. Eliza had been ignoring Clifford as she thought this, but now, remembering what Dev had told her, her skin prickled.
‘Indi is not the only secret you kept from me, is she, Clifford?’ she said in an icy voice.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ He replied in an offhand manner, and now he picked up some secateurs that had been lying on the grass and began trimming a nearby bush.
The burst of her own anger shook her. ‘For Christ’s sake, can’t you be honest for once! You knew Dev’s father was the one who threw the bomb that killed my father. That was why Dev agreed to help Chatur. He was frightened the truth would spread. He was frightened for his father.’
He paused for a moment and then his voice became more serious. ‘I only wanted to protect you, Eliza. What good would knowing that have done? We had never been able to find the man.’ He spoke calmly, as if the words were well rehearsed.
‘And as for Indi, it wasn’t up to you to decide.’
‘I promised your mother.’
‘And yet you arranged for me to come here, knowing Indira was here. Why did you do that?’
He didn’t reply for a moment and looked nervous. ‘I saw no reason for you to ever find out.’
‘So who else knows? Indi obviously, but what about the others? Are they all laughing at me?’
He spoke, eyes down, his brow furro
wed. ‘I would never have let that happen. Nobody knows, Eliza. I promise you that. Indi only found out recently. Just before her grandmother died she told Indi the truth.’
Eliza did not reply, but glanced up at the darkening sky and then bent forward, head in hands. It really was too much to take in. She didn’t know how to feel about Indi, and had absolutely no idea how to deal with it either. She felt locked up inside and, needing to protect herself from such unfamiliar feelings, she felt the wall around her grow even more solid. She looked up. The garden had seemed so pretty, light and breezy; now it had become a place of shifting shadows.
She saw that Clifford was watching her. His face had changed and his stiff manner had softened.
‘Was I really here to take photographs for the archive or was I an unwitting part of a conspiracy to spy on the royal family?’
‘For the archive, of course. I have all your final prints. I’ll have the ones you choose sent up for framing and then they’ll be delivered to wherever you like. Will that suit? And if you wish to complete the project then it will all be archived.’
‘Thank you.’
‘The prints will be at Dottie’s. I don’t imagine you’ll be wanting to spend time here.’
‘I must give you back the Leica.’
‘No. It was a gift. I have no use for it.’
‘That’s very generous. Thank you. I’ll repay you one day.’
He reached out a hand. ‘Eliza …’
She shook her head. ‘Don’t come any closer.’ If he said one more thing now she knew she would cry, so she got to her feet and very slowly and deliberately walked out of the garden.
Back at Dottie’s the cases were being loaded up to be taken to the station. Dottie had put on her hat and came running across, calling out as she did.
‘We are just leaving – did you get the address from Clifford?’
Eliza shook her head, and now that Dottie was close she seemed to realize something was up. ‘Dear God,’ she said. ‘Whatever is the matter? You look as if you have seen a ghost.’
Eliza couldn’t have spoken even if she had wanted to. She had come to India, to Rajputana, so full of expectations, but never in a million years with the thought that she might discover a sister.
‘Take these keys,’ Dottie was saying. ‘There are two bedrooms, still made up. Not our furniture, you see. Stay as long as you need to. The rent is paid until the end of next month.’
Eliza nodded. ‘Thank you. I still have to choose my final prints, so I’ll do it while I’m here.’
‘Just a sec, I’ll write down our new address.’ Dottie dashed inside and came back out with a folded piece of paper. ‘I don’t know what’s happened to make you look like that, but if you ever need a friend, write to me. Visit. Whatever …’
Eliza swallowed the lump growing in her throat and wished her friend wasn’t leaving. At the same time she realized she might never be able to speak of this.
Dottie held out her arms and they hugged, and then, after a few moments had passed, they let each other go and Dottie climbed into the waiting car and was gone. Eliza watched as the car disappeared into the distance. It had seemed terribly quiet while Dottie had been there, but now the noises of Juraipore assaulted her: children yelling, peasants selling their produce, the city folk going about their day. She covered her ears with her hands and ran indoors.
37
Eliza spent a restless night at Dottie’s, her dreams ranging from being caught in wild desert fires to searching for the boiled sweets her father used to hide in his pockets; only when she looked up it was not her father’s face she saw but that of Chatur. They say we deal with our problems in our dreams, but Eliza’s were too numerous to ever be resolved. She had, however, woken with the clear resolution that she must speak to Indi, despite the way the thought of it made her feel.
When she had picked out the photographs for framing, she called at the castle and marvelled again at the view of the huge fortifications rising from the rock face under a light lemony sky, and the battlements appearing to spread for miles. As a liveried servant led her along corridors with polished stucco walls, softly glowing like the shells of eggs, she still didn’t know if Indi would be there or back at the village. They crossed a flowering courtyard with a central fountain glittering in the sunlight and surrounded by a marble veranda, and then they went into a part of the castle she didn’t know. Here the air smelt less of jasmine and more of cardamom and spice. The man told her this was the herb and vegetable garden, and they were in the part of the castle at the back of the kitchens.
‘Through here,’ he said, when the courtyards came to an end, and led her to semi-concealed stairs. They began the climb and carried on right to the top, where they continued through a bewildering series of connected courtyards enclosed by high walls and scalloped arches on every side. When they arrived at a small turret-like building he opened a door that immediately gave on to another steep, winding staircase.
‘This way?’ Eliza asked, feeling a little uneasy. The man nodded and began to climb. At the top he rang a rope bell attached to a pale blue door. Eliza hadn’t known what to expect, but heard the tinkling of an anklet and was relieved when Indi herself appeared.
‘These are your rooms?’ Eliza said in surprise.
‘My room.’
‘Why here?’
‘Come inside and you’ll see.’
Eliza followed Indira into what would have been an octagonal chamber but for the part of it that was attached to the main building. In her overheated frame of mind, Eliza was relieved that a fresh breeze floated through the five tall narrow windows. This was nothing like the dark and gloomy corridors of the zenana, divided as they were into different apartments for Laxmi, Priya and the concubines. This was an enchanted place, light and fresh. Hypnotized, Eliza felt as if she was right up in the clouds.
‘It was a lookout tower,’ Indira said. ‘Come and see the view.’
Eliza went across to one of the windows and could see a magnificent panorama of the entire town laid out below her and far into the plains beyond.
‘It’s small, but I love it up here. Once they put glass in the windows it became the only place I really wanted to be.’
There was no furniture other than a coloured charpoy loaded with cushions, a rug on the floor, a trunk and several square floor cushions.
Indira indicated they should sit but, unwilling to leave the window, Eliza remained where she could see the view. While she stayed there she could listen to the sound of goat bells carried on the wind, and hear the murmur of the trees, with the intoxicating fragrance of rose and jasmine rising from below. She saw distant splashes of bright colour and realized they were the women’s scarves, flapping on the washing lines as they dried.
When she reluctantly moved away from the view she turned to face Indira and gazed at her for a few moments before lowering herself on to a cushion. ‘I can see why you love it up here,’ she said.
But what she wanted to say was, how dare you be my father’s child? She knew such petulance wasn’t going to help, and yet she still could not begin to unravel her mixed emotions.
Indira wasn’t speaking either but sat folding and unfolding the long scarf she frequently draped over her head. Today she wore a simple skirt and blouse, sandals, and her hair was left loose. She looked as if she belonged in a turret, Eliza thought, a damsel waiting for rescue, and in many ways that’s what she was. A feeling of pity washed over Eliza. This slight girl, with such tiny hands and feet, had not had the best start in life. Her grandmother had done all she could to make up for the absence of her mother and father, but could it ever have been enough?
At that moment Indi spoke. ‘You know, then? I can see it in your eyes.’
Perhaps Indi had sensed a softening, Eliza thought, perhaps she had spotted an opening that Eliza herself had been unwilling, or unable, to find. She dug a nail into the fleshy part of her palm. ‘I can’t talk about it.’
They were both silent for
several minutes, Eliza still listening to the sounds of the outer world occasionally drifting through.
‘Tell me about your childhood,’ Eliza eventually said.
‘If you mean our father –’
Eliza flinched visibly.
‘Sorry.’
‘No. Go on.’
‘I don’t remember him.’
‘And your mother?’
‘I last saw her when I was not even three years old. I think she was a dancer but my grandmother would never speak of her. Said she had disgraced the family. I was fortunate my grandmother accepted me.’
Another awkward silence. It seemed that neither woman was finding this an easy conversation, and though Eliza needed to be here, at the same time she wished herself miles away. Anywhere would do, anywhere she didn’t have to face the truth.
‘So,’ Eliza said, ‘will you stay on here?’
‘I won’t go back to the village.’
‘Jay will allow you to stay on?’ There, she had spoken his name, without a trace of emotion. Neutral.
‘Well, I suppose the answer is yes.’
Eliza shrugged, the pity she had fleetingly felt giving way to resentment again. ‘There’s something I wanted to ask,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘That stolen bottle of pyro. You didn’t … well, what I mean is, you didn’t have anything to do with Anish’s death?’
Indi’s eyes widened for a few seconds and then she burst out laughing. ‘You mean did I kill Anish so that Jay would become Maharajah and you and Jay would be over?’
Indi’s forthright reaction made Eliza feel a little ashamed at even having had such a thought.
Indi shook her head, the tears of laughter filling her eyes. ‘I am not a murderer, Eliza. I may be many things but I am not that. I do have to admit I broke your camera.’
Eliza gasped. ‘You really hurt me.’
‘I’m very sorry for it. I thought it might encourage you to leave.’
‘I thought we were friends.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She glanced down for a second. ‘I didn’t know who you were then.’
‘So it was all right to hurt someone who wasn’t your –’ She stopped, couldn’t say the word. ‘But you did steal the pyro?’
Before the Rains Page 31