The Satapur Moonstone Page 33

  It had been a risk to refuse him outright, but if he was going to take his anger out on her, it might allow for the children’s escape. She watched his face sag with the comprehension that his ambition had been hopeless. And then he forced a smile.

  “You have taught me something I didn’t know, Perveen-memsahib. It is too much to think about. Let us have a cup of tea together.”

  “I will take one,” Perveen said, thinking that maybe in the ritual of serving tea, she could stage an upset.

  “I don’t want any,” Jiva Rao said, his voice shaky.

  “Yes! I want a big cup!” Padmabai declared.

  “This isn’t your home. I’m not sure if the water is clean enough for royalty. Let me taste it to see,” Perveen offered. She did not trust Aditya giving the children anything.

  Padmabai stuck out her lower lip at Perveen. “But you promised we would stop at this place to have tea and eat!”

  Aditya beckoned to Padmabai. “Listen. Do you hear the kettle singing? Princess, kindly take the kettle off its hook.”

  “What?” Padmabai asked in surprise.

  “Yes. You are big enough to do it,” said the buffoon encouragingly.

  “No, you mustn’t!” Perveen said, trying to step out to grab Padmabai and finding that the dog was blocking her. As Padmabai hurried toward the fire, Perveen called out, “Don’t touch it. You’ll be burnt!”

  The buffoon laughed, and Perveen realized what he’d done: set up a situation where she would try to forbid the princess to do something, which would make Padmabai want to do it all the more.

  Aditya stepped into Perveen’s path, preventing her from reaching the princess as her small hand darted out over the fire and closed on the kettle’s iron handle. Shocked by the heat, she screamed, and the kettle swayed on its hook. She lost her balance and pitched so she landed on the edge of the brazier ring.

  Crying out, Perveen lunged forward, but Aditya grabbed her shoulders. “Stop! She will be taken by the fire, just like her brother will be.” At Padmabai’s scream, Ganesan had begun barking. Aditya kicked at him, and the dog shied away.

  Perveen felt Aditya’s hands gripping her shoulders, and although she flailed her arms, she could not break the hold.

  “Help us!” she screamed, but she knew that Ganesan’s barking masked her voice.

  “Stop it!” Aditya sounded furious as he yanked one arm up behind her. From her shifted position, she saw that Jiva Rao was gone. Although the pain in her shoulder was excruciating, she twisted and squirmed as violently as she could to keep Aditya diverted. She made a silent prayer that the prince would not run into the forest but to the lodge, and that he would ask the men there for help.

  Aditya was holding her by both of her wrists. Slowly, he began pushing her toward the fire beside which a weeping Padmabai lay on the ground, cradling her burned hand, with the dog hovering over her. The child was in so much pain she paid no heed to the scattered embers that were burning very close to the skirt of her lacy white dress.

  Aditya whispered in Perveen’s ear, “All you need to do is kick those bits of fire toward her. It would be an accident. You could not help yourself.”

  “No! I am here to protect them. I would never—”

  “This is your last chance. You can be my partner. Make a fine document like you did for the queens. Change the dates. You can prove that I am the best choice to rule.”

  Perveen began to shake. She should agree with him, appease him, try to calm him down—she knew she should—but she felt frozen. The space was too small for her, and the fear too large. He would get the document from her, and after that, he would kill them all. So she said nothing.

  “Say goodbye to them,” Aditya said.

  Between her breaths she called out, “Go, Padmabai! Go, Jiva Rao!”

  She had forgotten their titles.

  With a roar of rage, Aditya pushed her straight into the fire.

  Perveen was enveloped in intense heat and the choking smell of the smoke. As she struggled to pull away, she saw flames were burning one side and one sleeve of her riding jacket. She did not yet feel the pain of burning but knew it would come.

  Jiva Rao was pulling Padmabai toward the tower’s door. Perveen quickly pushed against Aditya and raised her voice into a scream. It was not hard to sound frightened, and if the buffoon was focused on her destruction, he might not apprehend the royal children.

  As she struggled against his superior strength, a thought flashed through her head. This is what being the guardian means. She had not expected to die for the Satapur children, but that was her fate.

  Perveen screamed again, and she heard a commotion from somewhere behind her. Ganesan was barking very close by. With horror, she watched his head lower over her forearm and his teeth clamp on to it.

  But the pain of a bite did not come. Instead, her arm was almost wrenched from the socket as Ganesan jerked her away from the fire. She rolled from one side to the other, desperate to put out the flames on her clothing. She realized Aditya was no longer holding her. As her gaze shifted, she saw legs in tweed jodhpurs disappearing up the tower stairs.

  Why was Aditya going to the tower’s roof rather than running out the door?

  Because it was a hunting tower with excellent views.

  Perveen stumbled to her feet and fell forward against the stairs. The first step was hard, because her arms felt so weak, and her balance was gone. But the second step came, and then a third.

  Perveen was only three feet up when she felt strong hands on her arms. A fresh surge of panic went through her. In the fire and fear, she must have gotten everything wrong in thinking that the buffoon was up the tower.

  “Perveen! Stop!”

  Colin’s voice jolted her.

  “Perveen!”

  She fell back against him, but the sudden movement pushed both of them off-balance, and they collapsed in a heap on the tower’s earthen floor.

  “Sorry,” Colin said as he edged out from underneath her. She looked at him, feeling overjoyed at her rescue yet embarrassed to have come so physically close to him. All the things she had felt at the circuit house were still there.

  She had to stop hyperventilating to speak to him. It was a struggle. “Am I on fire?”

  “Not anymore. Good God, who did this?” Colin said, looking at the burnt sleeve and the panicked dog circling around her.

  “Aditya—the man who arrived yesterday evening. Have you seen the children? Did they get away?”

  “They are just outside this building being consoled by Prince Swaroop. Both are fine.”

  The three people Aditya most wanted to harm. Perveen whispered, “But Aditya’s up on the roof! He can shoot them.”

  Colin looked up the ladderlike stair to the point where it ended in a square space open to the sky. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “This is a hunting tower,” she whispered again. “And he’s up there with a gun.”

  As abruptly as he’d come to her aid, Colin left her. He scrambled up and pushed his way through the doorway with more speed than she’d ever seen from him. Perveen could not move as fast; she bit back her pain as she used every aching muscle to drag herself out of the tower. She was stumbling many yards behind Colin, but she could clearly see the royal family in a clearing. Both children were hanging on to Prince Swaroop; Jiva Rao had his face buried in the prince’s jacket sleeve. The young maharaja must have been crying. The three were so consumed by their reunion that they had no eyes for the man standing on top of the tower with a pistol in his hand.

  Perveen’s gaze swung from Aditya to Colin. He was ten feet ahead of her, walking slowly toward them. She knew from the fact that he was in boots that he was wearing his wooden leg. Did Aditya see him?

  Her question was answered in the next moment.

  “First one to move is the first dead.” Aditya
’s voice rang out from the top of the tower.

  Prince Swaroop raised his head from the children to look up toward Aditya standing at the tower’s top. There was no sign of recognition in the prince’s face, perhaps because Aditya’s clothes were different from usual. Sternly, Swaroop called out, “Who are you?”

  “You think I am nothing!” Aditya said. “But I am an older brother to you. You should respect me.”

  Prince Swaroop did not react to the words immediately. Squinting, he asked, “Is that—Aditya-yerda? In my riding costume?”

  “I took it from your luggage at the circuit house yesterday evening! Everything that is yours should be mine.” Aditya pointed the pistol at the two princes.

  “Don’t be silly. You don’t even know how to shoot a howdah pistol. You are not of the warrior class,” Swaroop said contemptuously.

  Perveen winced, knowing how sensitive Aditya was to issues of status. Swaroop was teasing a scorpion without realizing how fatal the sting could be.

  “You tell me this—the royal who only knows how to waste money and how to drink? You should drink to this!” Aditya cocked the pistol.

  Perveen saw a small, lithe figure sprint across the grass. It was Rama, headed toward the royal family. Was his plan to shield them? She felt her heart break with the shattering sound of gunfire.

  Perveen instinctively hit the grass, covering her head. When she realized she was safe, she unwound and looked toward the royal family. The children clung to Swaroop, and Rama had gone to the side of Colin, who had fallen in the grass.

  Colin had once again sacrificed himself, she realized with dread as Padmabai screamed.

  “Get down! Get down!” Swaroop was shouting. She felt hopeless and immobile. How many bullets were loaded in the pistol—could he finish them all off?

  But when she glanced fearfully behind her to identify where Aditya was aiming next, she didn’t see him. Perhaps he had fallen down on the roof, because she could see nothing more than his left hand clinging to the low wall surrounding the tower’s roof. Had he collapsed after firing the first shot, or even shot himself?

  “How . . .” she whispered to herself, but did not finish the question.

  Stepping out of the brush was a short, slender woman wearing the blue costume of a palace messenger. She was holding a long hunting rifle. Her black hair was wild and unkempt, but the angular, nut-brown face was unmistakably that of Maharani Mirabai. And for the first time since Perveen had met her, she was smiling.

  Swaroop’s eyes widened, and Perveen understood he was confused by his sister-in-law’s appearance. However, Padmabai and Jiva Rao whooped with delight.

  “Mother, you got him!” Jiva Rao called.

  “Three cheers for you!” Padmabai said, and then burst out crying.

  It was a belated reaction, Perveen realized. All of Padmabai’s cheerful banter had masked how frightened she’d been.

  The maharani nodded at the stunned group of people regarding her. Then she calmly laid the gun on the forest floor and went forward with arms outstretched to her children.

  25

  A Room with a View

  “Perveen—you are the absolute end! How could you fall into a fire and barely singe a hair but manage to ruin my favorite sari with a turmeric stain? It will not come out, I am certain,” Gulnaz teased.

  “I shall make it up to you. The British are paying me well.” Perveen smiled at Gulnaz, whose words belied her generosity. Perveen’s sister-in-law had been with her at the Poona Hotel for the last three days. Because of her physical complications, she had decided it was better to spend the extra days in Poona to attend meetings with various administrators than to travel back and forth.

  Perveen had been treated for just two days at Sassoon Hospital. Dr. Andrews had suggested she recuperate in the hotel, which was much more restful. She had a small first-degree burn, but her shoulder was sprained from being dragged from the fire by Ganesan. Her parents had come to see her and urge her return to Bombay, but she had refused. She wanted the fate of the Satapur royals settled before she left.

  And the work wasn’t so hard. At the moment she was ensconced in a comfortable velvet chaise with her notebook on her lap, working on a new recommendation. Gulnaz shook her head. “I keep thinking about that fire. So terrible. I can’t believe you don’t remember any pain.”

  “It was incredibly brief. My shoulder pains me when I lift my arm, but it should get better. I really shouldn’t have to stay around here for the next two doctor’s appointments. My government work will be finished before then.”

  “But I’m here, too, and you keep me from being out of sorts. I’m not used to town life,” said a deep English voice from the door.

  Perveen looked past Gulnaz to see Colin standing in the open doorway. Feeling her cheeks warm, Perveen said, “Oh, hello.”

  “You are here from the hospital or from the Agency?” Gulnaz looked him over with a disapproving air.

  “I am neither of those. I’m Colin Sandringham, political agent at the circuit house.” He walked toward her with his slight limp.

  “Mr. Colin Sandringham is the one who recognized the circuit house horses tied up near the lodge. He stopped to investigate and found a dangerous situation underway.”

  Gulnaz looked sympathetically at him. “Mr. Sandringham, those travels must have been hard. Did you break your foot?”

  As Colin’s skin flushed, Perveen quickly returned to introductions. “Mr. Sandringham, may I introduce my sister-in-law, Mrs. Gulnaz Rustom Mistry?”

  Colin had reached Gulnaz and put out his hand. “It’s just an old injury; hardly bothers me at all. Mrs. Mistry, it means all the world to Perveen that you’re keeping her company here rather than heading back to Bombay with the rest of them.”

  “I have been a hospital volunteer,” Gulnaz said proudly. “That is why I thought of the crutches. Never mind. I’m grateful that you rescued Perveen without thinking of yourself.”

  “It seems the one who bore the most injury was the little princess,” said Colin, taking the chair across from Perveen. “Her hands were scorched and there is bandaging that must be changed. I hear she screams to the high heavens, but if the care is continued, she will gain full function and have just a few scars.”

  “I’m glad to hear the prognosis is good.” Perveen looked at Colin, who had surely come to talk about more than Princess Padmabai. “Gulnaz dear, I have some things to discuss with Mr. Sandringham that are confidential government business. Could we have some time?”

  Gulnaz bit her lip. “I promised Mamma I would be with you to help—”

  “I do need your help with communication,” Perveen said. “Would you be kind enough to go up to the third floor and ask the maharani if she can join us for dinner this evening?”

  Gulnaz looked skeptical. “Do you think the rajmata would accept hotel room service?”

  That was what Mirabai was called, now that the dowager was gone; but it still made Perveen think of the old lady. Shaking herself, she said, “What is a palace but constant room service?”

  “Here’s something you could take with you.” Colin held out a small package wrapped in brown paper. “These are a few more books for the children. I was going to present them myself, but they would prefer a lady visitor, I’m sure.”

  “Yes, I would be happy to bring them on your behalf,” Gulnaz said. Perveen knew her sister-in-law was enjoying the chance to get to know the royal mother and children, who had taken the entire third floor of the hotel. Yet it was clear she was uncomfortable leaving Perveen alone in the room with Colin. Gulnaz disappeared with a crackle of starched silk, leaving the door wide open to the hall.

  Colin sat down in a cane chair near the chaise longue. “You have a very protective sister-in-law. Is she older than you?”

  “Yes. She was one class ahead at school.” Perveen gave him a halfhearted gr
in. “She sorely wanted me to take on this job because she thought being in a palace would civilize me a little bit. But now she’s the one who’s spending more time with Maharani Mirabai than me.”

  “I wish you didn’t have to do so much when you’re recovering from your burn and sprain,” Colin said, looking at the papers.

  “Just small problems. They haven’t stopped me from editing Vandana’s testimony.”

  While Perveen was in bed at Sassoon Hospital, Vandana Mehta had sent flowers and a card offering her best wishes. And when Perveen was checking into the hotel, Vandana had also arrived. Very quickly, the ordinary hotel room booked for her by the government became a deluxe suite with a view of the Poona racetrack. “You must see interesting things while you are resting,” Vandana had advised her.

  Upstairs, with the doors closed, Vandana had gotten to the point. Looking seriously at Perveen, she had said, “You must think the worst of me. But the truth is, I was very ill. Aditya poisoned me because I wouldn’t go along with his wishes that I tell everyone he was the maharaja’s heir.”

  “Did you drink tea?” Perveen had asked.

  She shook her head. “No. We both smoked cigarettes. I think he put something on the edge of my cigarette. It was inside the holder, so I couldn’t see it.”

  “Were you feeling ill when you left the tower?”

  “I was, and if my horse didn’t know the way home so well, I would not have made it home. And then, thank goodness, you told my durwan to fetch Dr. Andrews. He had no idea what the poison was, but if he hadn’t given me charcoal, I would have perished.”

  “I think they hesitated because they didn’t want to hear the bad news that you had cholera.” Perveen had reached out her hands to her. “I’m so glad you survived—and that you had nothing to do with Aditya’s scheming. Although I do wish you had told me more about the situation before I’d gone to the palace.”

  “But I was just getting to know you.” Vandana looked soberly at her. “I didn’t know if I could trust you. My mother was a dancer, and my father a minor lord who has never acknowledged his connection to her or me. His legitimate daughter is Archana, a lady-in-waiting in the Satapur palace.”