She took the box, laid it on the table, slowly undid the strings and then opened the lid. She couldn’t prevent a slight gasp at the sight of a gown in the most beautiful vibrant shade of blueish-green.
‘Your mother told me it was your favourite colour.’
She frowned. ‘How did you know my size? Was that my mother too?’
‘It’s silk,’ he said, ignoring her question. ‘Do you like it?’
‘It’s beautiful.’
‘If you feel it’s a trifle too revealing, there’s a matching shawl, embroidered by hand with gold thread, no less. You can throw it around your shoulders.’
‘I really don’t know what to say.’
There was a momentary silence as he got to his feet and went to look out of the window. If it was to allow her time to think, she felt grateful; maybe she’d been wrong about him, maybe he was more sensitive than she’d thought. But she couldn’t accept this dress from someone she barely knew. What would it say about her if she did? And yet she’d never owned anything so glamorous and the temptation was strong.
‘Tell me about thisdurbar,’ she said to give herself time. ‘What’s it for?’
‘There was a time when the princely states would hold two importantdurbars, one a political event where the Maharajah and his ministers would hold court to determine the affairs of the state; the other social, a spectacle to entertain and display the wealth and magnificence of the Prince’s court.’
‘And this is the second kind?’
‘Yes. Since we manage most of the administration in co-operation with Prince Anish, there’s now only a need for a lavishdurbarto remind folk of the splendour.’ He beamed proudly. ‘We have successfully separated the administrative from the ceremonial. We can’t have these people creating chaos.’
Eliza still didn’t understand why the Princes had relinquished so much of their power by signing treaties with the British, and longed to ask, but she’d had enough of Clifford for one day. All she knew was that British India took up about three-fifths of the country, and that the rest was made up of 565 princely states under ‘indirect’ British rule.
‘I can’t accept a gift like this from you,’ she said flatly.
‘I think you will find you have to.’
Rather than argue, she changed the subject. ‘Do you know why they put dozens of cooking pots out last night?’
‘I don’t give a hoot for their weird and wonderful customs. But probably moon’s rays, that sort of tosh.’ He walked over to the door. ‘By the way, what do you make of Laxmi?’
‘She’s very kind.’
‘Be a good idea to keep eyes in the back of your head. Just report anything that makes you feel suspicious direct to me.’
‘Goodness. Like what?’
He shrugged. ‘Nothing in particular. Just a friendly suggestion.’
‘Clifford, I was thinking of using some of the better photographs to mount a small exhibition. Would that be all right? Perhaps in October, towards the end of my year here?’
‘I don’t see why not. Have you thought of where you’d mount it?’
‘Not yet. I thought you might be able to advise me on that.’
‘Well, we’ll see. Just run the ones you want to use past me first. Wouldn’t want you to give the wrong impression of the Empire. Anyway, see you on the night. Don’t let the side down.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Frankly, the way you’ll look in that, well, it’s just as well thezenanaandmardanaare kept separate.’
‘Mardana?’
‘Men’s quarters, my dear. In my eyes you are already beautiful enough but in that, well, you’ll be a sight for their sore eyes. I’ll have to keep a watch on you.’
As Clifford had given her some idea of what to expect, she took time over her appearance on the evening of thedurbarand, once she was dressed in his silky gift, the handmaiden Kiri came to brush her hair. One hundred strokes, Eliza whispered. No more. No less. She could almost hear her mother’s demanding voice in her head as Kiri threaded glittering crystals through her hair.
