‘Have I told you that you really have the most amazing eyelashes for a man?’
He batted his eyelashes at her and then laughed.
‘And yes, I know it’s the festival of Teej. I’ll have to pray for a happy ending!’
‘You’d look amazing with henna-painted hands,’ he said, and then paused. ‘So what’s happening about your exhibition?’
‘I still haven’t got a venue.’
‘What about in the main hall at my palace? We’d need to fix the floor, of course, but the light is terrific and if we send out the invitations in good time we should get a crowd.’
‘Really? Oh, thank you. I’d love that.’
‘My pleasure.’ He paused and smiled at her. ‘So, how many children shall we have?’
‘Two perhaps, maybe three?’
‘I was thinking at least five.’
She swallowed. Should she tell him now or wait a little longer, until she was certain? She hesitated, but then began to speak in a serious voice. ‘Actually, on that point I do have something to say.’
He looked suddenly grave. ‘We don’t have to. I mean, if you want to focus on your career, and don’t want –’
‘No, you idiot. Stand still and listen. I’m late. Only a week, so it’s too soon to really know, but we may have already started on number one.’
He looked up at the sky and thumped his chest and then he began to roar with laughter. She threw back her head and laughed with him, and only out of the corner of her eye did she see the merchants opening up and hear the tinkling of anklets as the women passed by, all the locals smiling at the sight of Jay and her laughing with such wild oblivion.
The sun rose in the sky and for the first time Eliza experienced the matchless perfection of life: each moment, each fragment of joy to be savoured, and when sorrow came, as it surely must, she would face it with an open heart, and know she would survive. She looked around her at the exotic pink city and knew she had, at last, moved on. And while she would always love her father, despite his faults, and would always feel a degree of regret over her mother, the future was what mattered now: her career, her love for Jay, and nurturing the next generation. Her mother had been wrong. There was no reason a woman should not have it all, and Eliza vowed that in the days and years ahead she would prove it. Not only would she follow a career she loved, she would also have a real family of her own, including the sister she had always wanted. She raised her head to the heavens. Be happy for me, Mum, she whispered. Be happy.
Epilogue
Three months later
Shubharambh Bagh
On a cool October day, the date set for Eliza’s exhibition finally arrived. She rose early, leaving Jay still sleeping, and, wrapping her robe around her, she wandered through the corridors of his palace – now her home. Eliza loved the luminous light of the early morning and often explored on her own before anyone else had risen. She frequently had to pinch herself at the fortune that had brought her to this point. She and Jay had married quietly in Delhi and she was now growing accustomed to the idea of becoming a mother in another few months. What’s more, she had finished the project for Clifford’s archive and had been paid accordingly. And though Clifford had never actually admitted it, she had come to believe that while his personal intentions towards her had been honourable, he’d really had an ulterior motive in placing her at the castle, and that had been to keep an eye on the royals and report back while also photographing them.
When she arrived in Jay’s huge reception hall, with the high windows and newly repaired floor, she gazed at the seventy-five photographs she had hung over the last couple of weeks. Jay had rolled up his sleeves and, working together, they had presented her work in the best possible light. Every picture was framed elegantly in black and they had been placed equidistantly along the entirety of one wall. The proud faces of the royals stared out, but so did the faces of the villagers, the children, and the poor. Each moment had been captured, sometimes in a soft grainy image, sometimes in harsh sharp light, and sometimes in shadow. Each picture was a work of art in its own right and Eliza was proud of what she had done. Against the opposite wall and in complete contrast to the black and white photographs, bright red perfumed roses in ten porcelain vases now lifted their blowsy heads to the light breeze and, in between them, chairs painted white were ready for those who wanted to sit and gaze. Eliza walked along the wall checking each photograph, straightening one, touching the surface of another, ensuring each one hung exactly as it should, and then she went upstairs to wake her husband.
That afternoon Eliza slipped into a long black dress, loose over her expanding tummy, and Kiri, who had come to live with them, dressed her hair with one of the red roses. Over her shoulders she wore a white silk shawl and when Jay came in and saw her he whistled.
‘Well, my darling, you are even more beautiful than your pictures.’
She grinned with pleasure. He was wearing a traditional Rajput outfit, a dark angharki or coat, deeply cut out in the front, in black, red and white and, fresh from the bath, his hair was still damp. She went to him and stroked his cheek. ‘You look pretty impressive yourself.’
There was a knock at the door and Jay went to open it.
Indi took a few steps inside. ‘I’ve just tidied up the roses,’ she said. Indi had been responsible for arranging the flowers and organizing the canapés for the opening party, and was now dressed in a red silk dress in the European style. ‘Are you ready? I think I heard the first car pull up.’
As Eliza glanced at Jay she felt a rush of nerves. What if people didn’t come? What if nobody liked her work? What if all they came for was to gawp at the Prince’s English bride?
‘I’ll go down,’ Jay said. ‘Better if you make an entrance once the place has filled up.’
She nodded wordlessly and he came across to kiss her forehead. ‘It will be fine. I promise. Haven’t we sent out invitations to half the world?’ He turned. ‘Come on, Indi, let’s go down.’
Jay was right. Invitations had been sent to photographic studios in Delhi, Jaipore and Udaipore. The Times of India had been invited, as well as the Hindustan Times and the Statesman, along with all the nobles of Jay’s acquaintance and businessmen too. Eliza had also insisted on inviting the locals to view the photographs and join the opening party. Even Dev would be there, now that it was clear that Clifford would not be arresting him.
On her own in the bedroom she shared with Jay, Eliza glanced in the full-length mirror. Though her skin glowed with health and her eyes sparkled, she couldn’t calm the butterflies in her stomach, but at least she could hear that more vehicles were arriving now. After half an hour of pacing the room, Eliza glanced up when Kiri appeared at the door to give her the message from Jay that it was time. She took a few deep breaths.
‘Madam?’ Kiri said. ‘You are ready?’
Eliza nodded and swallowed her nerves, then, walking like an Indian queen, she made her way to the top of the grand staircase that led to the hall. She stood gazing at her feet for a few moments, feeling hot, her heart pounding. When she felt brave enough to glance down at the gathered crowd she was astonished to see that the hall was full of smiling people with upturned faces and all eyes were on her. As she took her first steps, a loud cheer broke out. She blinked back the tears and felt as if her heart might burst, as the cheering carried on until she reached the bottom, where Jay stood waiting.
‘Let me introduce you to Giles Wallbank,’ he said, as she went up to him.
‘How do you do,’ a smiling blond man said, and held out his hand. ‘I must say these photographs are really quite extraordinary. We’d love to publish a selection in the Photographic Times. Would that suit?’
She gave him a broad smile. ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure.’
‘We’ll talk later, and I’ll have a contract drawn up as soon as possible. Now I must leave you to enjoy your success.’
After the man had wandered off, Jay held out a hand to her and then whispere
d. ‘Look at the reaction,’ he said, and indicated the people nodding their heads as they gazed at the photos and the queue waiting to talk to her.
Eliza would never forget this day as long as she might live. She had come to India uncertain about herself and nervous of her abilities as a photographer. She had come not really knowing who she was. All that had changed. She did not know what might lie ahead, but for now there was nothing more that could make her life more perfect – apart from one thing. And that was the safe arrival of their child. She looked into Jay’s eyes, the reflection of her soul, and she had to blink even harder than before.
‘You did it, my love,’ he said. ‘You really did it. And I couldn’t be prouder.’
Author’s Note
The books that I found particularly useful while researching this novel include the following titles:
Ahmed Ali, Twilight in Delhi, Rupa Publications Pvt Ltd, 2007
Rustom Bharucha, Rajasthan: an oral history, Penguin Books India, 2003
Diwan Jarmani Dass, Maharani, Hind Pocket Books Pvt Ltd, 2007
Sharada Dwivedi and Shalini Devi Holkar, Almond Eyes, Lotus Feet, HarperCollins, 2007
Henri Cartier-Bresson in India, Thames & Hudson, 1993
Caroline Keen, Princely India and the British, I. B. Tauris & Co. Ltd, 2012
Amrita Kumar (ed.), Journeys through Rajasthan, Rupa & Co., 2011
Antonio Martinelli and George Michell, Palaces of Rajasthan, India Book House Pvt Ltd, 2004
Gita Mehta, Raj, Minerva, 1997
Lucy Moore, Maharanis, Penguin Books, 2005
Hugh Purcell, The Maharaja of Bikaner, Rupa Publications Pvt Ltd, 2013
Sweta Srivastava Vikram, Wet Silence: poems about Hindu widows, Modern History Press, 1975
Thank you
Words can never convey how grateful I am to everyone at Penguin/Viking for the level of support I continue to receive. Thank you so much, Venetia, Anna, Rose and Isabel. Huge thanks to Lee Motley for this gorgeous cover and to all the sales and rights teams who work so hard and achieve so much. Thanks also to my superstar agent, Caroline.
I wouldn’t have been able to write this book without the help of everyone I met in India, so a massive thank you to Nikhil Pandit, Director, TGS Tours & Travels Pvt Ltd, Jaipur, Rajasthan, for organizing the trip so brilliantly. I am hugely grateful to Thakur Shatrujeet Singh Rathore, Thakurani Maya Singh, Thakur Jai Singh Rathore and Thakurani Mandvi Kumari at Shahpura Bagh for their generous hearts and the time and attention they gave me. It was not only a truly wonderful place to stay but it was also the history of Shahpura that inspired this book. Thank you also to Thakur Praduman Singh Rathore at Chandeleo Garh, a magical and peaceful retreat. I’ll never forget the dinners on the roof beneath the stars. Thank you to everyone at the Pal Haveli in Jodhpur, and also to Thakur Man Singh and Thakur Prithvi Singh, the owners of the Narain Niwas and Kanota Castle in Jaipur. Thanks also to our wonderful and endlessly patient drivers and guides.
I can’t end without thanking all my lovely family for putting up with me, and in particular my husband and ‘super-chef’, Richard, who has been inspired to cook amazing Indian food.
Rajasthan is a magical land and writing this book has been a wonderful experience. More than anywhere I have ever been I hope one day to return. So perhaps, above all, my thanks go to India itself and in particular Rajasthan. And, in case anyone is wondering about the spellings in the book, I have used Jaipore, Udaipore and Rajputana as they would have been spelt at the time the book is set. Juraipore is, of course, entirely fictional.
THE BEGINNING
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First published 2017
Copyright © Dinah Jefferies, 2017
Grateful acknowledgement is made for permission to quote here from André Malraux, Anti-Memoirs, © Editions Gallimard, Paris, 1967 and here from Rumi, selected and translated by Raficq Abdulla, published by Frances Lincoln Ltd © 2015. Reproduced by permission of Frances Lincoln Ltd.
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Cover photos © Jeff Cottenden, © Arcangel Images, © Getty Images
ISBN: 978-0-241-97882-5
Before the Rains Page 33