‘No, not this time. My uncle knew something bad was to happen. He told people. He told me, don’t go to work in the palace. There is evil there.’
‘But you didn’t believe him. You still came to work here.’
‘I had no choice,’ the boy said simply. ‘My parents are very poor and now that my uncle is gone, there is less money still.’
‘Then, of course, you must do your duty.’
Chintu seemed suddenly to realise where he was and started up from his seat. He collected the tray of china, but for a moment stood irresolute. ‘You will not say we have spoken, sir?’
‘I will say nothing, you have my promise. But before you go, tell me—did you have a visitor to the palace a few months ago? A young man who had travelled from Jasirapur. You would remember him, I’m sure.’
‘No, nobody, sir. I must go now. Hakim will be angry.’
The boy had clammed up. He had been unwilling enough to speak of his family but would say nothing of what was going on in the palace. Not that he would know a great deal, but Grayson would have bet his life that he knew about Javinder. Omerta ruled once more and he had no choice but to let Chintu go.
When the boy had shuffled out into the corridor, the tray tilting dangerous to one side, Grayson lay down on the divan and thought. Things were getting decidedly murky. There had been violence here—he knew that from reading Javinder’s early reports—but Chintu had suggested there was worse to come, far worse. And Daisy was sleeping in the room next door. He didn’t like the situation one little bit.
He wondered at Hakim sending the boy alone to the room. Perhaps he’d had no other option, but it was a risk. Still, Chintu was desperate for the work and had probably been drilled into silence. It was only the fact that Grayson knew Hindi that enabled them to talk, and Hakim might have been told that the visitors spoke only English. If so, the Rajah’s spy network had let him down. He would take heed of Chintu’s warning that trouble was about to engulf Sikaner, but Javinder had to be his goal and there he’d learned nothing. If the boy hadn’t suddenly remembered his vow of silence, he would have asked him about Dalip Suri too. There had been neither sound nor sight of their enemy from Megaur. Perhaps they had been wrong about him. Perhaps it had been coincidence that he was in the first village they’d stopped at.
There were too many unanswered questions. All he could do was follow his plan and slip into town early the next morning, before the household woke and discovered him missing. He would have a couple of hours, no more, to make the call to Mike and then to ask around for the answers he needed. After that, he’d be forced to make a swift return to the palace. If only he could find one reliable source in those few hours, someone who would know Javinder’s likely whereabouts or, God forbid, give him news of his death. Once he knew the score, he could act. The army was on standby and he’d have no hesitation in bringing the soldiers in.
But speed was of the essence. If Chintu was right and the trouble he talked of imminent, then Daisy needed to be got to safety. The Rajah had already attempted several times to rid the world of both of them, and failed. But he wouldn’t fail again, not on home turf. Grayson didn’t want to worry the girl he loved, but he did need to warn her. The last thing he wanted was her to blunder into matters that could be incendiary, not with a man who was already burning bright with anger. She was never going to find what she sought, not in this guarded and repressive place. He could see that, but could he make her see it? He must persuade her she would find nothing within the palace walls. Persuade her to act as naturally as possible. Above all, persuade her to stay silent. It wouldn’t allay suspicions entirely but it might keep her safe.
A hand on her shoulder woke Daisy some hours later. Grayson’s voice came to her from what seemed a long way away.
‘Time to get ready for our second audience. Before you do, though, come and look at this.’
She forced her eyes open and stumbled out of bed. Back in the sitting room, the blinds had been raised and she saw they’d been covering a wall of floor-length windows that overlooked a new stretch of land. This expanse must lie at the rear of the palace. Grayson opened one of the windows wide and the warm air of evening poured into the room, sweet and spicy. The scent of the last magnolias. It travelled around the walls, then weaved a path over carpets and between chairs and tables and divans.
Together they walked out onto the balcony. He stepped back against the balustrade and faced the building. ‘See.’ She joined him and looked to right and left, then craned her neck upwards. Every window and every crenellation of the roof was outlined by a thousand light bulbs. Their radiance dazzled the surrounding darkness.
‘We look like an ocean liner,’ he joked, ‘except for the fact that we’re landlocked.’
Daisy’s eyes widened as she took in the sight. ‘Amazing. And to afford such a display. Think how much wealth there must be in this place.’
‘And that’s where the Rajah intends to keep it. Come on, we’d better do our duty. You’ve got ten minutes to throw on a frock.’
She did it in less. Her one spare dress was pulled from the hanging rail and the pair of red-heeled sandals, which matched its flower print, fished from under the bed. By some miracle, both shoes and dress were presentable. A dab of powder, a slick of lipstick and a brush pulled through curls tangled by sleep, and she was ready. Although not, she felt, for dinner. She had eaten only a few hours previously and thought it unlikely she could do justice to the meal. But when they reached the dining room, escorted by the faithful Hakim, the aroma that reached her was so enticing that she decided she might manage a few dishes after all. It was as well since the Rajah was looking even sterner tonight, and a great deal more magnificent. A bejewelled turban sat astride his head and an imposing array of decorations hung from a beaded tunic. She stole a swift glance around the table; it was so long it might almost be an ocean liner in itself. She and Grayson were sitting opposite each other, with the Rajah at the head of the table, stiff and upright in another vast gold and red chair. Several of his advisers—at least she imagined they were advisers—were arranged around the far end.
The dining room was smaller than the vast audience chamber of this afternoon, but what it lacked in size, it made up for in the splendour of its fittings. Every wall was draped in swathes of embossed silk, and crystal chandeliers, four or five tiers high, hung from a carved wooden ceiling. A sequence of jewel-encrusted arches sitting atop highly decorated pillars travelled along one complete side of the room, their architecture echoed by the row of ornately carved window arches opposite. Behind the Rajah’s imposing chair was a wall of glass cases and, from where she sat, Daisy could see that each boasted a richer display than the next. The most fabulous collection of jewellery glinted from their depths: emerald rings, diamond brooches, necklaces made from layers of rubies the size of pigeon eggs. As the precious gems caught the light, shards of colour were thrown across the room. She tried not to stare but it was a mesmerising spectacle.
A line of servants, dressed in purple and gold uniforms, brought dish after dish. She ate well, not realising that these were merely the appetisers, and when bowls and plates had been cleared, she saw with dismay that another enormous spread had found its way to the table. With every succeeding course, she had to force herself to take at least a little of the food that was offered. It was unlikely she would need to eat for a month, she thought, once they’d left Sikaner. A retainer poured wine for her and for Grayson, but she noticed that neither the Rajah nor his advisers partook. She sipped sparingly. She would need her wits about her. Grayson had his job to do, but she had set herself her own quest and she was determined to fulfil it.
The Rajah had remained silent for most of the meal. Now he stopped eating and looked across at her. ‘You enjoy Indian food I see, Miss Driscoll.’
‘I do.’
‘And is this an acquired taste?’
The question seemed odd. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand you,’ she said.
&n
bsp; ‘It is simple enough. Have you always eaten Indian food? Somehow I imagine not. English people are so very conservative. They alone could have brought the execrable Windsor soup to my homeland. So you have acquired a taste for our food it seems. You have been in India before.’
The same uncomfortable prickle started its dance up and down her spine; here was someone else who’d taken the trouble to discover her history.
CHAPTER 18
‘I have, Your Highness. There’s no secret to it.’ She sounded a little too bold, she knew, and felt Grayson’s gaze intent on her across the table.
‘No secret indeed. From what I hear, quite the opposite. But perhaps we should not talk of it. I understand your stay with us ended badly. I must apologise on behalf of my countrymen.’
She was beginning to feel flustered. ‘It’s really not necessary. Whatever happened took place years ago and quite some way away.’
‘Ah yes. In Jasirapur. Where you have returned to.’
She said nothing and he fixed her with a sardonic eye. ‘A curious decision, I feel.’
‘I don’t consider it so,’ she said, now in battle mode. ‘I was offered an opportunity to return to a beautiful country and I wanted very much to take it. Why would I not?’
‘At the moment, Miss Driscoll, I am unsure.’
‘There’s no mystery, Your Highness.’ She tried to sound casual. ‘I loved India on my first visit and when I had the chance to accompany Mr Harte, I took it.’
‘How delightfully positive. Though Jasirapur is hardly a magnet for visitors.’ A slyness had entered his voice and it reminded her very much of Ramesh Suri.
‘I agree that Jasirapur is a modest town but it was where I lived.’
‘And almost died, so I hear. Tell me why you returned.’
She could sense rather than see Grayson flash a warning, but she was feeling decidedly ruffled and very slightly angry. What right had this man to speak so dismissively to her, to interrogate, to question her integrity, for that was what he was doing. No right whatsoever. In that moment, she made a decision. Grayson might caution as much as he liked but she wouldn’t be silenced. She would abandon pretence right now and go straight for her quarry.
‘I knew happy times in Jasirapur as well as bad, Your Highness, and it’s been a pleasure to return. I made a very good friend when I lived there. A friend I still carry in my heart. Your grandson.’
Your grandson but my good companion, she thought, someone who had taught her to ride and to revel in the beauty of the Indian countryside. Who, for a short while, had helped her discover the joy of friendship.
There was no reaction. The old man’s face was an empty canvas. ‘Anish,’ she prompted, wondering if, like Suri, he would deny his relatives, deny that he had ever had a son or a grandson.
‘I know the name,’ the Rajah conceded. ‘But if you were his friend, you will know his story. You will know that his father left Sikaner many years before the boy was born. I am unlikely to have any interest in him. And unlikely ever to wish to talk of him.’
‘How very sad. I wonder - did you never once wish to see your grandson?’
The advisers moved uneasily at the end of the table. It was evidently a subject that was not to be broached.
‘Never, Miss Driscoll. Did you think I had? I’m sorry to disappoint you.’ There was a spiteful smile on his face. ‘My only son was killed fighting for the British. Did you know that too?’
She nodded.
‘Then you will also know that after his death, his wife wished to keep the boy. I really had not the energy to fight the woman. He could have come to me if he had chosen. But he did not.’
That seemed to be the end of the conversation, though his body language spoke something quite different. He was hunched forward almost leaning into the various dishes scattered on the table and fixing both Daisy and Grayson with a malignant gaze.
‘Karan Verghese fought for the British and died for them,’ he said forbiddingly. ‘Died a thousand miles from home for a country that has now abandoned us. We princes have been the British Crown’s staunchest allies. We have feasted their dignitaries and paid homage to their king. We have been loyal and lavish. And much more.’
No one spoke and the Rajah muttered, ‘Much, much more. At our own expense, we have raised forces for Britain’s wars and fought in them bravely. Our blood has watered foreign fields in their cause. And with what reward? What have we reaped? Gratitude? Honour? No, nothing like. Betrayal, that is what we have reaped.’
The advisers shifted even more uneasily and it was only the return of the battalion of servants that broke the tension. Expertly, they delivered several trays of desserts and sweetmeats alongside finger bowls of water and, by the time they had left the room, the conversation had returned to the mundane. Daisy was forced to accept defeat. Talin Verghese was implacable and she knew he would not lift a finger to help her.
But minutes before the meal came to a final end, he unexpectedly broke through the trivial chatter to fling a comment that stirred her interest. ‘I have another son, you know, Miss Driscoll. Adopted, of course, but what can one do when one is given five daughters and a single boy?’
‘Is he here in the palace?’ She wondered why they had not yet encountered him.
‘You will meet him tomorrow. Adeep is travelling with a friend, but I have every expectation of seeing him in the morning. You will like him, I’m sure. He is a good boy and he is my future. His name means “light” and that is what he is to me. A light that I thought never to have. When I am gone, he will rule Sikaner.’
The same implacable note had returned and it made Daisy feel very tired. The difficult journey, the sleepless night, the strain of maintaining a facade against a formidable adversary were taking their toll. She wanted to escape this laden table, this opulent room, and escape quickly. Grayson helped her out.
‘It is has been a delightful dinner, Your Highness. May I thank you on behalf of myself and Miss Driscoll for your generous hospitality.’
Daisy had never heard him sound so formal. The old man simply bent his head, but she thought she could discern a guileful smile on his face when he murmured, ‘Our former rulers are always welcome, Mr Harte.’
He clapped his hands and one of the servants lingering in the doorway came forward and bowed to them. Hakim had disappeared it seemed, and this man was to escort them to their suite. They might have been hard put to find their way, but there was something oppressive in not being allowed to walk alone.
They were halfway back to the apartment, when a large dog, hair flying, came racing at full stretch along the corridor and cannoned into them. Grayson had to grab her arm to prevent her being knocked to the floor. Brought up sharply by several unexpected legs, the dog promptly turned tail and rushed frantically back the way he’d come, only to crash heavily into a servant coming from the opposite direction, a loaded tray in his hands. The tray flew outwards and with it the contents. Dishes of sticky sweetmeats tumbled to the floor. Their escort grabbed the dog and, signalling to them to stay where they were, dashed off towards the small staircase she’d noticed earlier. It ran down one side of the building, down to the servants’ quarters, she imagined, where the hound would no doubt face imprisonment. The servant who had been carrying the tray began hastily to clear the carpet of its unwanted covering.
‘We’re to stay here?’
‘Presumably,’ Grayson replied. ‘I don’t want to upset the apple cart just yet by stepping out of line. You’ve done enough of that for one evening. And it’s odds on we’d lose our way if we tried to get back ourselves.’
She looked along the passage. There were rooms aplenty, but every door was closed except the one nearest her, and this showed only the smallest chink of light. While the servant had his head down sweeping the floor clean, she pushed the door gently ajar and glanced in. It was a study or office and immediately she felt herself grow tight with expectation.
At the far end of the room, beneath the slatted wi
ndow, was an enormous desk with a tantalising array of drawers and, across its top, a scatter of papers which looked as though they had been abandoned in a hurry. On every wall, bookcases reached for the ceiling, for the most part filled with old and decaying books but here and there they housed the odd dusty photograph, the odd sheaf of paper filed horizontally. The room gave her food for thought, food for exploration. She felt Grayson watching her and affected indifference, bringing her gaze back to the servant who had finished his cleaning and was now bowing his way past. Their escort appeared around the corner at that moment and motioned them to follow. The servants in this palace seemed to appear and disappear like wraiths, she thought. Within five minutes they were back in their suite.
‘What was that about?’ Grayson asked. He shut the door smartly behind them.
‘What?’ She tried to sound innocent.
‘Your interest in the room back there.’
‘It was just another door,’ she answered airily. ‘There are so many in this place and most of them closed. I thought I’d like for once to see what was lurking on the other side. As it turned out, not a lot.’
He strode over to her and took hold of both her forearms. ‘We need to tread softly, Daisy. No more confrontations.’ His grip and his voice were firm.
‘Which means …?’
‘What I say. We’ll only ever find out what we need to by stealth. No more confronting the Rajah or his minions directly. Not the way you did at dinner. The lower the key, the more we’ll discover.’
‘The more you’ll discover,’ she retorted.
She wandered out on to the balcony for a last look at the town. Here and there a few lights still glimmered, a few fires still burned.
Grayson soon joined her. ‘I’m serious about keeping a low profile. If you haven’t realised it yet, we’re surrounded in this place by danger.’
She had realised it, but she couldn’t let go. She’d set out for Sikaner without any real idea of what she would face. It was clear now that there would be no gentle conversation with the Rajah, clear that she would have to dig for the information she wanted. But she did still want it. Yet Grayson was warning her off as strongly as he could, and she felt herself bridling at what she thought an ambush.
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