A memory came racing back of brushing Anna’s hair. When Eliza had asked why she looked so sad, there had been only silence and then her mother’s warm tears had dripped on to Eliza’s own hand. She hadn’t known what to do or how to comfort her mother but had tried to reach out. Anna had swept her hand away and nothing more was said. It had swollen in Eliza’s mind, that small moment, though she never understood what triggered her mother’s ongoing melancholy, except for the death of her husband, of course.
As Eliza gazed in the mirror now she hadn’t expected the way the peacock colours of the silk dress lit her eyes so they sparkled as brightly as the crystals in her hair. And indeed, waving freely beyond her shoulders, her hair shone like burnished copper against the creaminess of her complexion. The woman tied up her hair loosely, then gave her a subtle version of Indian-style make-up, outlining her eyes in grey and dabbing a touch of colour on her lips and cheeks.
Just as Eliza was set to leave the room, Laxmi entered, issued an order to Kiri, who scuttled off, and then, as she appraised Eliza, smiled.
‘But how beautiful you are. Why do you hide your light, my child?’
‘I …’
‘I have embarrassed you. Forgive me. But you will need to cover your shoulders.’
‘Oh! I almost forgot,’ Eliza said, and dashed to the wardrobe where the shawl was hanging. She took it out and held it up for Laxmi to see.
The older woman ran her fingers over it. ‘This is very fine indeed. Where did you get it?’
‘Clifford Salter.’
‘He’s a good upstanding fellow. Isn’t that what the British would say?’
‘I suppose.’
‘Perhaps not the most handsome among men.’ Laxmi looked her up and down. ‘But you could do worse.’
‘I’m not in the market for a husband.’
‘Isn’t every woman in the market for a good husband?’
Eliza smiled. ‘Is that what you really think?’
As Laxmi sighed, Eliza could sense her melancholy. ‘I was lucky. I had a very happy marriage with a wonderful man. We were equals. That is not often the case here in the royal courts. But now, let us speak about you. What are your hopes and expectations? Even if you are not looking for a husband, there are many kinds of love. Without it your heart will be empty.’
‘For now I love my work.’
The woman smiled. ‘Indeed. Now come, let me show you the best place from which to watch the procession. We few modern-thinking women must stick together, especially these days.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You will need all the friends you can get, and don’t forget what I said about Clifford Salter. A white married woman in India has more freedom than a single woman.’
‘I’ll remember that … I was hoping you might tell me about the bells I hear every day. I know they’re temple bells.’
‘They call us to our prayers, orpujasas we call them. You will find that here in Rajputana everything we do becomes a ritual or rite of some kind or other, and that in a way the gods we pray to symbolize various forces in our lives. We don’t distinguish between the sacred and our ordinary lives. To us they are one.’
‘I see. It’s very different.’
‘Yes, I imagine it is. Well, enjoy your night.’ The woman turned to leave.
‘Actually, Laxmi,’ Eliza said. ‘I’d like to go out to one of the villages to photograph the local people if I may.’
‘Think of it as already done.’
The colonnaded archway lining the largest exterior gateway into the castle was illuminated by flaming torches fixed to marble urns, each one guarded by a single manservant wearing white. Once Laxmi had left her alone, Eliza looked down on the scene from a balcony and saw a long line of silver and goldhowdahs, atop jewelled and painted elephants lumbering up the hill past a wall festooned with flowers. When they came to a standstill she gasped out loud, but not at the spangled spectacle laid out before her. In the space of one chilling moment she was ten years old again and leaning from a different balcony; the one where she had tried to wave at her father. Her eyes began to smart and she struggled to control her tears; she could not allow this to happen now. For years she had steeled herself against her weakness, taught herself discipline, made herself strong inside and out. She could not fail now.
‘Eliza?’
She spun round and saw Jayant wearing a darkangharkior coat, deeply cut out in the front and threaded with gold. His teeth seemed very white against his dark lips and gleaming skin, and the fan of lines at the edges of his eyes grew deeper as he smiled. He was standing stock still and staring at her and the moment during which they held each other’s eyes went on too long. As he blinked, she realized that there was something truly genuine about this man. And that something was affecting her deeply. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came. Then the moment was suddenly over as, ashamed of him seeing her weakness, she roughly brushed her tears away and took a step back, desperately trying to think of something to say to excuse her emotional reaction.
‘It’s very beautiful,’ she managed to say. ‘The procession.’
