The Satapur Moonstone Page 28

  He passed a hand over his eyes and said, “Yes, you must look everywhere. If the maharaja is found, I will ask the maharanis if they will allow my retirement. An old teacher like me should not be living longer than his princes.”

  Perveen sensed he was hiding tears and felt a rush of sympathy. Pulling a fresh handkerchief from her pocket, she put it into his hand. “It must feel very sad to lose your maharajas. A different kind of sadness than what most feel.”

  The teacher pressed the cotton cloth to his eyes. “Yes. All the dreams I had for them to take their place in history are gone. And the shame is that with the maharaja Jiva Rao, I had not taught him enough. If he dies, he goes into his next life knowing too little.”

  “We should not expect the worst,” Perveen said softly. “By the way, I have an assistant from the circuit house waiting for me by the front entrance.”

  Mr. Basu took the handkerchief away from his eyes and blinked. “An Englishman?”

  “No. Rama-ji is an Ayurvedic doctor,” she said, because identifying him as a cook or yogi would probably not get him through the gate. “He knows the landscape very well because he gathers herbs. If Rama-ji wishes to come inside to speak with me, will you please allow him to?”

  “I will tell the staff,” Mr. Basu said with a decisive nod. “Then I will wait downstairs in my study, if you need something more.”

  “I would like to see the rajkumari,” Perveen said. “Will you please bring me to her?”

  “Eh? Why her?” He sounded irritated.

  “Princess Padmabai is missing both her mother and brother. The confusion must be so much for her. She may be very sad and frightened.” Perveen was surprised she had to spell it out for him.

  “That is not true. We hear that she has been playing all day,” said Archana casually from the other side of the jali.

  Perveen felt she was being blocked. “I would appreciate it if someone would bring me to her—”

  Archana’s voice answered her in the same maddening tone. “It is not possible. Nobody is willing to take you.”

  It was a struggle not to let her anger show. “You just heard that Basu-sahib gave me clearance to search the palace. Because the princess no longer has a living father, I am her legal guardian. I am most concerned.”

  Archana’s voice was cool. “I believe you. But nobody wishes to accompany you. They say you have put nazar on everyone.”

  Perveen was horrified. “I have no such powers. I am just an ordinary woman.”

  There was a long silence and then finally a soft voice. “I will take her.”

  There was a great murmuring among the ladies-in-waiting on the other side of the golden screen. Then the unseen Archana spoke again. “She is allowed.”

  The golden door within the wall swung open, and a middle-aged maid dressed in a modest blue-and-white sari stepped through. Perveen smiled at her encouragingly. “What is your name?”

  Pressing her hands together in a namaste, the maid murmured, “Swagata. Everything bad that could happen to my family has already occurred. It does not matter if I sacrifice.”

  As they set off, leaving the old palace’s halls and heading toward the courtyard, Perveen tried to reassure the maid, who had kept her head down and walked stiffly. “Swagata-bai, I will not cause you suffering. I only wish to be led to the princess.”

  “I will do that. But do not give me any money or papers.”

  Perveen walked along, thinking about what the maid had said. “Does this have to do with Chitra?”

  Swagata looked sideways at her. “Yes. She is my daughter. Because of what you gave her, she was put in the palace jail.”

  Perveen felt jolted. “Where is this jail?”

  “Underneath the old palace.” Swagata’s mouth twisted with worry. “It is wet and cold, and there are rats.”

  “And criminals?” Perveen could not hide her alarm.

  “Nobody else is staying there now. But in the old days, the maharajas put thieves there. It has a very bad atmosphere.”

  Perveen felt dreadful about the request she’d made to post the letter—especially since she had made it safely to the circuit house before the letter had arrived. “I am so very sorry. I can’t imagine who accused your daughter of doing something wrong.”

  “Someone was in the hallway outside your room. There are guards everywhere,” Swagata said in a heavy voice. “It is only because they are hunting for the maharaja that they are not in every corner of every hall, listening.”

  Looking past the palace’s columns into shadowy darkness, Perveen did believe they were necessarily alone. What she said aloud could be repeated. “What happened to Chitra was unjust. I will speak to Rajmata about it.”

  “After you see the princess?” Swagata’s eyes were keen.

  “Yes. Right after that.”

  On the new palace’s first floor, the nursery door was open. Padmabai sat in the middle of a pink-and-green Agra carpet, bent over a large, fancy English doll. As she approached, Perveen saw that the child had a small pair of silver nail-scissors in her hand, and she had cut off half the doll’s black curls.

  Padmabai looked up when her ayah, a thin elderly lady, yelped at the sight of Perveen. Then the ayah spoke rapidly to Swagata in the same regional dialect that Perveen had heard among the palanquin bearers. Swagata translated for Perveen. “She was fearful at the sight of you. I explained that you did not take the maharaja. That you came back to help.”

  “I must ask Princess Padmabai some questions,” Perveen said in Marathi to Swagata. The senior maid relayed this to the ayah, who settled down on the floor, keeping a suspicious gaze on Perveen. Perveen felt uncomfortable having the women there, because she knew they understood Marathi. “It would be very kind if you waited just outside the room. I’ll call out for your help if the princess doesn’t understand something.”

  Judging from both maids’ expressions, Perveen gathered they were reluctant to leave the remaining royal child alone with someone believed to have the evil eye. However, they couldn’t blatantly disrespect a high-ranking visitor like Perveen.

  Perveen closed the heavy door behind her and approached Princess Padmabai. Settling down on the carpet next to her, Perveen asked, “What is your doll doing?”

  With a serious expression, Padmabai answered, “She is preparing. Her hair must be cut, and she will wear a white sari.”

  The young child might have remembered what her mother or grandmother had done after Prince Pratap Rao’s death. So Padmabai had assumed the worst about Prince Jiva Rao. “I understand. Please tell me about what you did with your brother yesterday.”

  Pausing with the scissors, Padmabai gave her an annoyed look. “Everyone asked me that already!”

  Perveen recalled that she was supposed to speak to any royal family member with respect. How could she do that and still elicit information? “You know that I wasn’t there with them. Please tell me.”

  Padmabai began snipping again. “We played on the roof with the kite. Then Uncle came, and you went with him to talk. Then Aditya was crying because his monkey died. I cried, too. How could he die? It’s not fair. And then my brother was crying.”

  “About the monkey?”

  The girl looked at her but didn’t answer.

  She tried again. “What was the maharaja crying about?”

  Padmabai shook her head vehemently. “I should not tell you.”

  Not wanting to frighten the child, Perveen chose her words carefully. “Princess Padmabai, I think your brother might be lost. It’s very frightening for him. I must find him.”

  “Oh no! He is not frightened. He is going to a good place.”

  Perveen had a sudden awful thought of the jail that Swagata had mentioned. What if he knew about it and had gone there—and perhaps been trapped somehow? “Is it inside the palace?” When the princess didn’t answer, Perv
een pressed on. “Please tell me the truth. You are such a smart girl that you must know the truth.”

  “I am not a girl!” Padmabai retorted. “I am a princess.”

  Perveen tried another approach. “Princess Padmabai, you play in many places—and the old palace and new one together have hundreds of rooms and even places underground. Could he be hiding in one of them?”

  She shook her head.

  “How do you know?”

  “I watched from the roof when he ran away.”

  Perveen tried to hide her excitement because she didn’t want Padmabai to realize she’d given up a major clue. “Your eyes are sharp, even when you don’t have binoculars. How did he leave the palace when it is guarded?”

  “He went through the little zenana door when all the ladies were taking their tea.”

  “That was clever of him. Where is he running?”

  Padmabai remained silent.

  “Why won’t you say?”

  “He told me not to tell anyone.”

  She changed tactics. “Why did he leave?” When Padmabai shook her head again, Perveen said, “It’s important you tell me all that he said. I want you to be able to see your brother again.”

  Padmabai shook her head, this time so vigorously that her short braids flew out. “But you will take him away from our home to a school.”

  Perveen felt sick. Either the boy had listened outside the zenana durbar hall, or someone had told him about her conversation with the maharanis. “I won’t make him go anywhere he doesn’t want to be. I can promise you that. Do you believe me?”

  Padmabai gave her a long look, and then finally nodded.

  “Where was he going?”

  “Uncle’s palace.”

  As she’d expected, Swaroop was involved. “Did your uncle tell him to go there?”

  “No. I told you, he went walking on his own.”

  She recalled the Mercedes Cardan that Prince Swaroop had arrived in. He could easily have picked the boy up en route, driven him the rest of the way to his palace, and left him confined there before racing off with a party on horseback to the circuit house. In this scenario, Swaroop could blame the boy’s disappearance on Perveen.

  “We know the way.” Padmabai put down her doll and used her hands to point. “We can see the top of the palace from where we play kites.”

  The issue now was to understand the direction he’d headed. “I see you pointing, but I don’t understand. Let’s go up to the roof.”

  Both maids insisted on following when Perveen came out of the room and told them, “We’re going up to the roof to look around. Can you please bring me Rajmata’s binoculars?”

  “But I have them,” Padmabai said, pointing to a wicker toy box.

  Up on the roof, a warm breeze caught at Perveen’s hair. She followed Padmabai to the western side of the palace. The child pointed, and Perveen saw, after what looked like a few miles of trees, something brown poking up through them.

  Perveen took hold of the binoculars and, after focusing, realized Padmabai had pointed to a chimney. The residence was closer than Perveen had thought. “Did your uncle ever tell you or your brother you could go to visit him there?”

  “Of course he did. But our mother doesn’t want us to,” Perveen said in a sweet lilt.

  Mirabai probably feared for their safety—and she herself could not go with them, as a woman in purdah. Gazing at the distant chimney, Perveen was struck by another thought. Looking at Swagata, she said, “When Prince Swaroop arrived yesterday, I saw him come from the other side.”

  “Yes! His palace is on the east,” Swagata said, turning to point to the other side of the roof.

  But Padmabai was standing on the western side of the roof, which overlooked the hilly forest that stood between the palace and the circuit house. Perveen put her hand on Padmabai’s small shoulder. “Are you very sure he was on this side of the palace? The road is not there.”

  “I watched him leave through the garden going that way. Uncle’s palace is there.” Her voice was insistent.

  Looking down at Padmabai, Perveen asked, “Do you remember the times you went to Uncle’s palace before?”

  “Yes,” chirped the princess. “It’s splendid like Toad Hall!”

  Perveen smiled at the reference to The Wind in the Willows. “Toad Hall has a fireplace. Does your uncle’s palace have one also?”

  Padmabai looked at her blankly. “What is a fireplace?”

  “It is a place inside the main house for burning wood for warmth in wintertime.”

  Padmabai’s voice came more slowly. “I am not sure.”

  “The hunting lodge has a fireplace,” Perveen said. “I saw it when I visited there yesterday. I think the lodge is the building with the bit of chimney poking up through the trees.

  “The question is whether the maharaja could reach the lodge. It’s about an hour’s palanquin ride from here,” Perveen mused aloud. Because the maharaja was a child, it would take him longer than an hour. There was an uneven, rough earthen path to follow. There were forks along the path, but it was conceivable the maharaja would have found the hunting lodge.

  Perveen looked at the sky. It wasn’t yet noon, and the earlier clouds had given way to clear sunshine. There was time and good weather for her to safely get to the lodge. But before that, she would have to tell the dowager maharani what she’d learned.

  22

  A Poisonous Woman

  The maids surrounded Princess Padmabai as she went down the narrow stair that led from the roof to the palace’s third floor. Then the ayah took her back to the nursery while Swagata led Perveen down to the ground floor and then into the old palace.

  As the two of them walked, Perveen said, “You are the rajmata’s princess maid. You know her mood very well.”

  Swagata’s lips were set in a hard line. “Yes.”

  Perveen guessed that whatever loyalty the maid might have felt toward the old maharani was overshadowed by the maid’s resentment at how the dowager had jailed her daughter. “I will speak to Rajmata about Chitra, but I am trying to understand what her mood has been like since Jiva Rao’s disappearance. Is she very angry? Is she sad?”

  “She has not said very much. She asked for the servants to find clean formal clothing for everyone. That must be why the little princess was preparing her doll for mourning.”

  “Both of their lives have been marked by so much death,” Perveen said. What she couldn’t express yet was the question in her mind: Was the dowager maharani preparing merely because she was fatalistic, or because she knew something?

  They went through the gold door again into the zenana. After passing the durbar hall, Swagata showed her to a steep stairway patterned with inset stone designs of lotus flowers and vines. Gesturing to it, she told Perveen, “The dowager’s room is up this way.”

  “She can walk up such steep steps?” Perveen had only seen the elderly woman sitting down.

  “No. She is carried,” said Archana, who looked down at them from the floor above.

  “By women?” Perveen asked.

  “Oh yes!” Archana delivered an overly sweet smile. “We would do anything for her.”

  Perveen thought about what Archana might be capable of as she followed the lady-in-waiting to the rajmata’s chambers. Following in their wake was a phalanx of more gentlewomen, whispering among themselves, and Swagata, who kept several paces behind, as if mindful of her lowly status, yet determined to guard Perveen. The rajmata’s bedroom was round, revealing that it had been carved out of one of the castle’s towers. But it did not have the bird’s-eye view that Perveen had expected. Instead, its small windows were shielded by jali screens that threw dappled light across the floor and bed. The royal bed was a simple charpoy made of ropes and canvas, although the covers were lush silk embroidered in gold. The rajmata lay on her back with
her head and shoulders propped up on a bolster. Her eyes were closed, but when Perveen spoke to her, they fluttered open.

  “Namaste, Rajmata.” Perveen folded her hands together in the gesture of respect. “I came to help find the maharaja.”

  Swagata had taken a spot crouching by the room’s door. Her eyes were fixed on the rajmata, as if she was afraid what might happen next.

  A gnarled finger emerged from under the silk and pointed toward Perveen. “How can you find him when my men could not?”

  “Because I’ve learned something from the princess that could help us know where to look,” Perveen said.

  “Impossible!” the queen shot back. “The princess already was questioned. She did not see anyone take the prince, but it probably happened when she was playing with her dolls.”

  Perveen was not encountering the quiet, mournful rajmata whom Swagata had described. The queen must have distrusted Perveen so much that her behavior shifted in her presence. And she didn’t trust the rajmata either.

  “The good news is the maharaja might not have been kidnapped,” she said, settling down on a velvet stool near the bed so the dowager could see her. As Perveen looked at Putlabai, she waited for the wrinkled-walnut expression on the lady’s face to relax. It did not.

  Maharani Putlabai heard Perveen’s account of what she’d learned without interruption. At the end, the maharani reached out a frail hand toward her bedside. Swagata placed the cup of tea that was waiting there against the queen’s lips. After she drank, she spoke. “There are two dozen men searching already. If the princess is speaking the truth, why haven’t they found him?”

  “It could be that he hid from them—or that he’s reached the lodge, or that he’s been helped by someone to reach your son’s palace. Actually, it is possible that Prince Swaroop is involved in this disappearance.” Perveen paused, letting the words sink in. “Just as he was involved when Prince Pratap Rao was lost.”

  “My son was innocent then and is innocent now. He would never tell the maharaja to make such a journey on foot.” The rajmata shifted in her bed, and Perveen saw that although the woman wore a silk nightdress, the moonstone pendant was shining at the base of her throat.