‘I’ve not seen enough to be able to say much. People have been kind, so far.’
‘Well, you know Clifford would do anything for you. He’s so good like that. Helped Julian and me out so much when we first arrived … finding servants, that sort of thing.’ She paused and pulled a bit of a face. ‘Have you met the Maharani yet?’
‘The Prince’s wife?’
Dottie nodded. ‘Priya.’
‘Not yet.’
‘I’ve heard gossip about her, and if the rumours are right, you’d better keep an eye out. For a man called Chatur too. From what I hear he manages the entire castle affairs.’
‘Oh?’ And Eliza remembered that Jayant had mentioned the man.
‘Clifford does such a good job and, if you ask me, has the patience of a saint, but he’s had endless trouble with this Chatur chappie. Digs his heels in. Won’t follow orders. You know the usual type. Hates the British.’
They moved across to the window, where a table had been laid with canapés and jugs of fruit-filled punch. Dottie poured two glasses and then held up a plate of canapés. ‘Shrimp all right for you?’
Eliza bent her head slightly to look at them.
‘They’re fine. Canned, of course. We’re too far from the sea for anything else. You’ll be offered mutton here and there, but of course it’s actually goat. Stick to the vegetarian food at the castle. That’s my advice. My husband has had to deal with a lot of upset British stomachs over the years, so I should know.’
‘Thanks, but if you don’t mind, I think I’ll give the shrimp a miss,’ Eliza said, and turned to survey the room, where she spotted a sturdy-looking man with a neat moustache smiling across at them.
Dottie clapped her hands. ‘Oh look, there’s Julian. You must meet him in a minute. He and Clifford are great pals and, as I get the impression Clifford thinks the world of you, I rather think we’ll be seeing lots of you here.’
Eliza frowned. ‘Really? Clifford knew me as a child but I’ve hardly seen him for years. At least, not until recently.’
Dottie smiled. ‘Well, anyway, now you know where we are, do feel you can drop by. Any time.’
‘That’s very kind.’ And Eliza really felt that it was, and, who knew, from time to time she might well need an escape into a familiar world she did, more or less, understand.
‘The men often get up a table for poker,’ Dottie said, then smiled again, almost apologetically. ‘Well, it’s awfully dull for me so you’d be most welcome. There are so few Englishwomen in these parts.’
‘I had rather intended immersing myself in the Indian world.’
‘You’ll need breaks. I’m sure of it. Now come and meet Julian. I’m sure you’ll get on like a house on fire.’
The day after the cocktail party, Eliza developed her first photographs and was delighted by the results, especially the early shot of the man with the haunted look in his eyes and the child with its black hair sticking up. There had been something eternal about the man, dignified and yet sad too. She loved the way a photograph could tell an entire story and preserve it in a single moment. She hoped she’d be able to take more pictures inspired by her heart and not just by her head, and, if she could manage to get out and about and grasp something of the mysterious quality of the ordinary people, she’d be happy.
She had received a hand-written message from Chatur, whom she still hadn’t met, informing her that the first photographs had to be of the royal family, as anything else would be most disrespectful. She had been planning to do that anyway, so she didn’t mind. It would be a clear record of who was who before she attempted shooting in the more intimate recesses of the castle. And while Clifford would probably only be concerned that she captured everything for the archives, she was determined to use her creativity.
A red-turbaned courtier wearing white directed her to a spacious courtyard surrounded on three sides by the screened balconies of thezenana. While the women of thezenanawere no longer restricted by the veil, many still remained behind the screens, and a tingle of apprehension ran through her when she realized everything she did was being watched.
A tall upright man with an impressive moustache, heavy untrimmed eyebrows and baggy shadows under his eyes walked towards her. She could have sworn this was the same tall man she’d seen laughing at the polo match after the Prince’s accident. She had wondered about mentioning it to Clifford, but, worried she was probably adding two and two and making five, hadn’t wanted to look naïve.
‘I am Chatur, thedewanor senior court official,’ he offered in a haughty tone of voice. He didn’t wait for her to reply nor hold out a hand, but carried on imperiously. ‘I have the final say on what does and what does not have a place in the castle. I organize everything. Do you understand? Everything you wish to do must go through me.’
Though a commoner, the man had the stern bearing of a king and, Eliza decided, he was clearly a man who thought a great deal of himself. She held his gaze, though it wasn’t easy, and she had to force herself not to shrink from something shady in his dark eyes. That he had a reputation she’d already heard from Dottie, and his attitude now seemed to prove it. He looked as if he was scrutinizing her, though she had no idea if there was a particular reason or not.
‘If you follow my guidelines you will find I can be very helpful, Miss Fraser. If not, well …’ He spread his hands in a shrug.
‘I understand,’ she said, deciding that to acquiesce was the best policy, at least for now.
‘We shall be seeing a lot of each other,’ he said, giving her something resembling a half smile. ‘I expect you to ensure the association is a harmonious one. We don’t appreciate strangers poking their noses into castle affairs.’
‘I can assure you I won’t be poking my nose, as you put it. I’m only here to take photographs.’
‘So you say, Miss Fraser. So you say. I shall be keeping a strict eye on you.’ And after that he spun on his heels and left.
