‘It’s one of the guests then,’ Sinclair said. ‘One of the syndicate.’
‘Perhaps,’ Tayte said, ‘although as no one had to go and open the front door for Callum Macrae when he came back from trying to help Murray with the generator, he must have left the door off the latch so he could get back in. In which case, just about anyone could have slipped in and put it there.’
‘Very true,’ Sinclair said. ‘If that’s the case, we’re dealing with someone who’s very determined, waiting around outside the house on a night like this. Why am I thinking about those Rajputs I told you about again?’ He drew Tayte’s attention back to the envelope. ‘I’ll see to it that DI Ross gets this. Maybe his forensics people can make something of it. Now, what does the letter say?’
Tayte began to read it. ‘Jane opens by telling her brother that she’s been witness to an incredible turn of events. Something wonderful has transpired, which she can scarcely believe.’
‘Does she say what it is?’
‘Not yet. She says she’ll come to it, but first she goes on to mention Captain Fraser again, and his promised tour of Jaipur.’
‘He does seem to be cropping up rather often, doesn’t he?’
‘Yes, he does,’ Tayte said, his interest in the man becoming further aroused. He quickly read on, keen to learn what else Jane Hardwick had to say about her time in Jaipur with the Christie family and Captain Donnan Fraser.
Chapter Fifteen
Jaipur, October 1822
The unusual perspective of everyday proceedings when viewed from high up on the back of an elephant was nothing new to Jane. It was, however, a welcome reminder of a happy childhood in India before her father’s untimely death from cholera, which had forced her return to England to live with her aunt. Travelling by elephant on Captain Fraser’s guided tour of Jaipur had certainly won him a degree of merit in Jane’s eyes. She saw it plainly for what it was, of course, but on this occasion she didn’t mind. The well-meant gesture was intended to impress Arabella, to bolster the profuse apologies he’d made for his surly behaviour at the stream the evening they had gone to meet Naresh Bharat Singh.
It was late morning by the time they left the city walls, the sun not far from its zenith. As the party slowly traversed the trail up into the Aravalli Hills, which rose high above Jaipur, heading towards Nahargarh Fort, Jane could see that the gesture had clearly hit its mark as far as Arabella was concerned. She had been all giggles since the excursion began, smiling and laughing with Captain Fraser atop their elephant as Jane and Elspeth followed after them on theirs, each being guided by a mahout sitting with his legs around his elephant’s neck.
‘They do seem to be getting along very well, Jane. Wouldn’t you say?’ Elspeth said as she continued to fan herself; their parasols alone offered little defence against the humidity and the direct heat of the sun.
‘Evidently so,’ Jane said, wondering what Arabella and Captain Fraser were talking about.
‘I believe my husband was correct in supposing they would make a fine couple.’
There was Jane’s proof, if any were needed, of Sir John Christie’s intentions as far as the hand of his daughter was concerned. She imagined the match had been made long before Arabella had arrived in India. ‘Captain Fraser can certainly be quite charming when he wishes.’
‘Do I detect a note of cynicism, Jane?’
‘Perhaps. I would sooner put my daughter’s happiness first, that’s all, and certainly above that of a soldier. I don’t believe Arabella is aware of Sir John’s arrangement with Captain Fraser, is she?’
‘I’d hardly call it an arrangement. My husband has high hopes for them, that’s all. The rest is down to them.’
‘Are you entirely sure about that, Elspeth?’ Jane said, wondering how Captain Fraser would react should Arabella not give him her hand when the time came to ask for it.
Elspeth gave no reply. Instead, she changed the subject. ‘I’m told that when we reach the top, the view of the city will be quite unparalleled.’
Jane smiled at her friend, thinking it naive of her to suppose that Captain Fraser had been led to expect anything less than marriage to the resident’s daughter, irrespective of Arabella’s feelings. She said no more about the matter, however, moving on as Elspeth had.
‘It should make a fine setting for our lunch,’ she said, looking back at the servants, who outnumbered them three to one, as they followed after them on foot with their provisions. ‘Look there,’ she added. ‘Your servant, Kamala, has a basket full of oranges.’
‘Please don’t talk to me about Kamala,’ Elspeth said. ‘He’s a fat oaf. I find him all but useless. Did the captain say we were taking lunch at the fort itself?’
‘No, I don’t believe so. I can see two of the servants carrying what appears to be the makings of a pergola tent.’
‘That’s a pity. I’m sure it would have been much cooler inside the fort.’
At length they came to the summit, where the elephants stopped and knelt at the commands from their mahouts, allowing their passengers to climb down. They were in a clearing at the top of the trail, a lookout of sorts. The view as Jane gazed out over Jaipur was enough to take her breath away. The city, which had appeared so large and bustling from below, now seemed tiny and insignificant amidst the land that enveloped it. Being so high up and close to the edge, there was also enough of a breeze to put a smile on Elspeth’s face. Captain Fraser and Arabella joined them as the servants went about setting things up for their lunch.
‘I was just telling Arabella about the fort you can see yonder,’ Fraser said, indicating the impressive sandstone structure to their right. ‘It was built in 1734 by the founder of Jaipur, Maharaja Sawai Jai Singh the Second, as a retreat for himself and the royal ladies. It’s almost a hundred years old, and do you know that in all that time it has never once been attacked? The defence walls run over the hills all the way to Jaigarh Fort. It’s an admirable achievement.’
Jane noted that Arabella seemed to hang on Captain Fraser’s every word, causing her to wonder what charm he’d worked on her while they had been alone together on their elephant. Whatever they had talked about, their conversation had clearly done him no harm in her eyes. Perhaps the contrary. Was it possible that Captain Donnan Fraser was for Arabella after all?
The pergola was quickly erected and Elspeth was the first to seek its shade, frantically beating her fan as she sat down on one of the four chairs that had also been carried up from the city on the back of one of the servants. Having grown up with many young natives, whom she had come to call her friends, Jane was at odds with the things they were often made to endure for the sake of their masters’ leisure, but that was the way of things in India, where a few rupees could buy a man’s untiring service and obedience.
Arabella was next to sit down, still smiling her innocent smile, which seemed to beguile every man who looked upon it. ‘I shall remember this day forever,’ she said, looking up at Fraser as he lowered himself into the chair beside her.
‘Then we must do it all again someday,’ Fraser said.
Elspeth stopped fanning herself. ‘Perhaps we could take lunch at the fort next time, captain?’
‘Aye, perhaps. I’ll have a word with the maharaja the next time I see him. Maybe I can garner an invitation.’ He smiled and winked at Arabella, who blushed in return.
Jane sat beside Elspeth, all facing the hilltop and the far-reaching views of the plains below. She had to smile to herself at hearing Fraser’s words suggesting that he, a mere captain of the East India Company Army, was so acquainted with the Maharaja of Jaipur as to curry any favour with him. If any such arrangements were to be made, it would be down to Arabella’s father, not Captain Fraser.
With the meal laid out before them, Elspeth reached for an orange. ‘My throat is quite parched,’ she said. ‘If I attempt the bread and cheese first, or heaven forbid the boiled meats, I shall be sure to choke on them.’
Fraser smiled at her exaggerat
ion. ‘I can offer you tea or sherbet to quench your thirst, Lady Christie.’
‘Sherbet!’ Arabella said. ‘You really have thought of everything.’
‘Your father, Miss Arabella, kindly placed the residency kitchen at my disposal. Among the many and varied treats you see before you, including the fruit sherbet, I had the khansamas prepare a few native dishes for you to try—although I’m quite sure you’ll find our own cuisine far more palatable.’
‘Do the herbs and spices upset your constitution, Captain Fraser?’ Jane asked.
‘If I may make so blunt,’ Fraser said, ‘I find the native food no better than peasant food. We’re not here in India, or any other parts of the world, to learn or adapt, but to civilise.’
Jane was not shocked by Fraser’s opinion. She understood that it represented that of the majority of British officers and officials in India. Nevertheless, it was not her opinion. From that moment she determined to eat only local foods in his presence, to spite him and his damned arrogance.
‘You must try the pickled mangoes,’ Jane told Arabella. ‘You’ll find it excites your taste buds like nothing else and goes magnificently with the mutton pie.’
While they ate, Captain Fraser regaled them all with stories of his youthful adventures in India since he’d taken his commission with the Honourable East India Company, and Jane and Elspeth bored him to tears, or so it seemed, with stories of life back home concerning both Scotland and England, the latter of which, during Jane’s account, he showed no interest in whatsoever.
With the meal over, they were left sipping tea beneath their hilltop pergola in the warmth of the afternoon sun, the shade and the gentle breeze giving no one cause to leave.
Arabella, whose cup was evidently empty, raised it and said, ‘It’s so lovely up here. Could I have another cup before we head back down?’
‘Of course, Arabella,’ Fraser said, turning at once to the servants. ‘Chai wallah!’
‘Thank you, Donnan,’ Arabella said, and the informal manner of their address did not escape Jane’s attention.
The chai wallah, a young, thin man, little more than a boy, was quickly beside Arabella with his urn of tea. Arabella offered her cup to him and he began to pour, but as he did so the urn slipped in his hands, spilling the tea on to Arabella’s dress, staining the white muslin the colour of mud. She gave a startled yelp.
‘You bloody fool!’ Fraser shouted, instantly getting to his feet.
‘Very sorry, sahib!’ the boy said, backing away.
‘I’ll bloody well make you sorry!’ Fraser said as he went after him.
Fraser grabbed the chai wallah by the neck and marched him out from beneath the pergola, causing him to drop his urn altogether with an almighty clatter. Fraser threw him to the stony ground, withdrew his pistol and proceeded to whip him violently with the butt. The boy curled into a ball and everyone looked on in horror as Fraser bent over him, not letting up. If anything, his savage blows against the defenceless boy became all the more excited.
Jane was well aware that officer brutality against the natives had been made legal by the East India Company, but she could not sit there and watch Captain Fraser beat the boy to death for something as trivial as spilling tea. She supposed the captain was incensed to such violence because in his eyes it had been his Arabella who had been affronted by the chai wallah. All the same, Jane would have none of it. As Elspeth and Arabella continued to sit with their hands to their mouths in shock, Jane stood up and ran to the captain.
‘Stop this!’ she demanded, but the captain did not seem to hear her. A moment later she took up her own teacup, which was still half-full, and threw the contents in his face.
Captain Fraser recoiled immediately, turning to Jane with wild, unseeing eyes as he raised his pistol to whip her with it, too.
‘Captain Fraser!’ Elspeth screamed. ‘Have you completely lost your senses?’
The captain froze at hearing Elspeth’s voice, his pistol held rigid in mid-air. He seemed to see Jane then as if for the first time since he’d turned to her. Their eyes met: hers full of scorn, his doleful and apologetic. He dropped instantly to his knees, clutching at the hem of Jane’s dress.
‘I’m so very sorry,’ he whined. ‘However can I expect you to forgive me?’
Jane tugged her dress free from his grasp. ‘You can’t,’ she said, and then she turned back to the pergola, noting that Arabella had now averted her eyes altogether, seemingly unable to look upon Captain Donnan Fraser again.
Chapter Sixteen
Jaipur, October 1822
A week had passed since Captain Fraser’s violent outburst in the Aravalli Hills. During that time he had been seen but once at the residency, at an awkward supper that saw him drunk by eight, profusely begging Arabella’s forgiveness and failing miserably. It seemed that no manner of encouraging words from her father could bring Arabella to forget what she had seen, and neither should she, as far as Jane Hardwick was concerned. The captain had shown his true colours and he had been found wanting.
Today was a special day at the residency, and Jane was thankful that the loathsome captain, as she now saw him, was nowhere to be seen. It was late morning. Jane had finished her correspondence, having written home to her brother with news of recent events in India, letting him know exactly how she felt about Captain Fraser. She was now with Arabella in her room, helping her to get ready, the morning sun falling softly through the latticework, illuminating a predominantly white room that was punctuated by colourful mosaics.
‘I’m glad Mother is feeling well today,’ Arabella said as Jane continued to dress her hair. ‘It’s not every day one gets to meet a maharaja.’
‘No,’ Jane agreed. ‘And I’m sure your father is eager to introduce you. We must hurry.’
‘Tell me what you know about him.’
Jane pushed a silver hairpin through Arabella’s hair to keep it in place. ‘His name is Kalyan Singh,’ she said. ‘He’s the Rajput ruler of Kishangarh, which borders Jaipur to the west.’
‘He is friendly, isn’t he?’
Jane smiled. ‘He would hardly be here otherwise. Along with Jaipur, Kishangarh has been under British protection since the Marathas were defeated four years ago.’
‘You know a lot about India, don’t you?’
Jane laughed this time. ‘I assure you there’s plenty I don’t know about India. Now come along. Stand up and let me have a good look at you.’
Arabella rose from her chair and straightened her dress—the whitest batiste dress she owned, adorned with fine yellow embroidery where it drew in beneath her bust and at the shoulders. At her neck was a dainty citrine choker.
‘Wonderful,’ Jane said through her smile, feeling as proud of her charge as her own mother surely would. Not for the first time, Jane wondered what it would have been like to have a child of her own. It had never happened for her, but at least she had Arabella, whom she had watched grow from infancy and had often cared for in her mother’s frequent periods of absence, both in body and mind, over the years.
Jane led Arabella out of the room, heading for the courtyard garden where they had been told Sir John and Lady Elspeth would be entertaining the maharaja. As they approached, Arabella’s brow began to knot, and in a low voice she asked, ‘Who are all these people?’
‘The maharaja’s retinue,’ Jane said. ‘His personal servants and advisors.’
They passed around twenty people in all, recognising a few of the household servants among them, smiling and nodding politely as they entered the courtyard, which had been arranged with plentiful fruits and fresh flowers for the maharaja’s visit. Though a little cooler than it had been in recent months now that autumn had begun, it was still hot enough to warrant the shade of the magnificent pergola tent that had been erected in the middle of the garden.
As they made their way towards it, Jane saw Sir John sitting in his finest white suit beside Lady Elspeth, who looked similarly distinguished in her white gown and pale-blue mam
eluke turban trimmed with an ostrich feather. There were two men with them, both in golden achkan sherwanis, a garment of trend among Indian royalty since its first appearance at Lucknow in recent years.
It was easy to see which of the two men was Maharaja Kalyan Singh by the sheer number and size of the jewels he wore. His headdress was of shimmering red-and-gold cloth, adorned with strings of pearls, with a diamond aigrette of three feathers rising from the centre, inset with a single ruby. Around his neck, layer upon layer of pearls covered his chest. As their seats had been arranged in a semicircle, the figure beside him was obscured for now, his face turned away.
‘Arabella!’ Sir John said, standing as soon as he saw them approach. ‘Allow me to introduce you to His Highness, the Maharaja of Kishangarh.’ He was full of smiles as the maharaja rose from his seat to greet them. ‘Your Highness, this is my daughter, Arabella, and our good friend, Jane Hardwick. Arabella, Mrs Hardwick, this is Maharaja Kalyan Singh, and his brother, the crown prince.’
‘Namaste,’ Arabella said, pressing her palms to her chest and bowing her head as Jane had instructed her.
When Arabella looked up again, it seemed to Jane as if she were about to faint. Standing beside the maharaja, looking equally regal, though somewhat understated by comparison, was the young sowar, Naresh Bharat Singh.
Jane quickly ushered Arabella to the chairs that had been set out for them beside her mother, facing the maharaja and the young prince. As Arabella lowered herself into her seat, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off Bharat Singh, whose face held a puckish smile.
‘His Highness has bestowed a fine gift upon me,’ her father said. He clicked his fingers and one of the guards standing at the perimeter of the pergola came closer. He was carrying an embroidered silk pillow, which he lowered before the resident. ‘This beautiful jewelled dagger,’ he said, lifting it gently in both hands as if afraid to mark it.
‘It is but a letter opener,’ the maharaja said with a smile. ‘Something with which to open your many correspondences.’
Letters from the Dead (Jefferson Tayte Genealogical Mystery Book 7) Page 12