Eliza sighed. Would she ever understand India? ‘What about love?’ she asked.
‘People grow to love one another. That way it lasts.’
‘But who can arrange a marriage for you?’
Indi shook her head. ‘I am fond of Dev but I have no dowry, just my grandmother’s house. You have seen it. A mud hut and worthless. I am completely alone in this world and I expect I always will be.’
Eliza nodded and suddenly realized how important it must have been for Indi to try to create an ally of Chatur. With no status or power of her own, she really had little choice. But Eliza decided she had to say something about her own relationship with Jay. It had been more than mere romantic love. She knew it, Jay knew it, and she wanted Indi to know it too.
‘I love Jay,’ she said. ‘I always will.’
‘And he, you, I am sure.’
‘But Priya? That thought makes me feel quite sick.’
‘All I can say is that Jay has always surprised us. He has his own views on life and he will only do what he believes to be right.’
‘Whatever that might be?’
Indira nodded, and Eliza wondered how to progress the conversation and how she might be able to help the girl. Then she had an idea. ‘Would you ever become involved in the independence movement?’ she asked. ‘Everything will change for ordinary people. I see now that self-governance is the only way ahead. I just hope it can be achieved peacefully.’
‘Well, on that score Dev is very convincing. He has persuaded me that the world we all know is about to come to an end. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But it will.’
Eliza smiled. ‘I assume you don’t mean the end of the world. You mean British India?’
‘Yes, that, but Dev believes the princely states will go too. Of course most of the Princes are fighting to preserve their seats of power. And who can blame them?’
‘Jay will be a fair ruler while the kingdom lasts.’
There was a short pause, and in it Eliza guessed what was coming next.
‘Tell me about him … tell me about your father, please, Eliza.’
Eliza took a breath, then sighed. She had always loved to remember her father, but now her feelings of love were so mixed up with anger and resentment she hardly knew where to begin. She recalled him taking her to watch pig-sticking and that she had hated it. There had been so much blood. Better, she had at first thought, was the time he had taken her on a shoot. They had waited on a high platform, but when the Viceroy had shot a beautiful elephant she had wept, much to her father’s embarrassment.
‘I loved my father,’ was all she could say.
‘And your mother?’
‘His infidelity ruined her life.’
‘You must resent me.’
Eliza looked at Indi, so alone. ‘When Clifford told me, I was genuinely beside myself.’
Checked by a faint memory of her father, she paused, wondering if it was real. Or had she been too young to understand the significance of seeing her father holding the hand of an Indian woman.
‘Angry at me?’ Indi asked.
But Eliza was following her own train of thought and didn’t reply.
‘Angry at me?’ Indi repeated.
Eliza sighed. ‘At you, at my father, at Clifford for telling me. Worst of all was the anger I directed at my mother for allowing what my father had done to destroy her.’ She paused. ‘My mother had a drink problem.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘And I blamed her for everything. I thought my father was perfect. Fool that I was.’ She got to her feet; this was beginning to hurt too much. ‘I think I maybe should go now.’
