Chapter 23

Jay and Eliza were now staying at his palace. He had been working solidly from the moment he arrived, ensconced behind a huge desk in his office from seven in the morning until late at night. Various files and drafts of letters were spread out around him and he had been sifting through the irrigation plans. The second stage was drawn out now, along with the plans for damming the river, but still no permission had come through to be able to do it. It seemed as if the British were prevaricating. People frequently called on him: ragged petitioners from the villages, but stiff-looking Englishmen too, and also wealthy Indian merchants from other states and from British India. He treated them all with the same effortless good manners, and Eliza saw a determination in him she hadn't witnessed before. It endeared him to her. Not wanting to intrude, she was happy helping with the paperwork, and sometimes caught him gazing at her with burning eyes that said so much, even though no words were exchanged. Then he would see her looking and lower his head. When she passed him papers he would accidentally brush her hand, and a jolt ran through her every time. She longed for him to kiss her again and could have sworn he longed for it too, especially when he caught her staring and gave her one of his slow, beguiling smiles. Each day that passed was a torment, and she felt nervous that he might be regretting what had happened between them. Helpless with desire, she floundered in the near-unbearable pleasure of being near him and waited for something more. One early evening, when it was cooler, and as the temple bells began to ring, they walked out to look at the project. He put an arm around her, holding her close as they gazed at the pit, and she knew this was the moment. He turned her towards him and kissed her very gently. 'I've been wanting to do that again,' he said, as he pulled away and put a palm against his heart. 'I'm so happy that you're here. I hope to have a little more time now.' 'It's all right.' 'No, it isn't. You deserve more.' He held her close and ran his fingers through her hair. 'Sorry I've been distracted. Sometimes I feel as if all this is in the lap of the gods.' 'You don't pray though, do you?' she said, catching hold of his hand and bringing it to her lips. She kissed his fingertips and then let his hand fall. 'I leave praying to the women. The strength of our society has always been in our courage and resilience.' 'And your beliefs? Karma, for instance?' They walked on a little further, arm in arm now. 'Karma plays a central role in life for every living being. We believe we are born not just once, but have been here for eternity. Lord Krishna says in the sacred books – there was never a time when I wasn't here and there will never be a time when I will cease to be!' 'I think I understand.' 'But karma has a past and a future. We can affect what happens. And now it's time to change things in India,' he said. 'You're helping them to change.' 'I don't just mean improving the lot of the farmers and peasants. I mean with regard to the British. Even in our own palaces and havelis we are separated from the very Europeans who are our guests. They take the best chairs and the highest placements at table and we are relegated to the side-lines. It's a game of one-upmanship. But have you any idea how that feels?' He stopped walking and his penetrating stare unsettled her. And while she wanted him to kiss her again, she could feel the pent-up energy inside him and had the distinct feeling he really needed to talk. 'It must be very demeaning,' she eventually said. 'We feel like puppets in the hands of the government representatives. We're just a small part of the theatre that is the British Empire. The British accepted our demand for dominion status in 1929, but that only raised the thorny issue of giving equal rights to both Hindus and Muslims, so there's been no progress.' 'What needs to happen?' 'We need freedom untainted by religious difference. And we really need British withdrawal, irrevocable and complete, and then let us be judged by what we do.' She stood very still. 'I do understand that. Really.' He looked at her with sadness in his eyes. 'Do you? I hate having to go to people like Clifford Salter, cap in hand. I know the British are already devolving power, but it isn't enough. We want to see a day when we Indians rule our own free nation.' 'It will happen, Jay, because it must. Even I see that now.' He stroked her cheek with the palm of his hand. 'I'm glad you understand. I used to attend the Chamber of Princes, hoping to make a difference, even took a leading role for a while at the meetings in Delhi. Since 1920 we've been represented by the Chamber.' 'So why did you pull out?' 'Disillusionment mostly. There is no equality between us and the British. Whatever we do, we're banned from publicizing our meetings and threatened without impunity. The hands of the Chamber of Princes are tied.' He had only invited her to stay for just a few days and she didn't want to outstay her welcome, so a little later, just as the light was fading and the sky was still pink, she asked if perhaps it was time she left. He looked at her as if surprised. 'You want to go?' She glanced away, then shook her head, the words sticking in her throat. 'Stay. I have something else to tell you. You've seen the men coming and going?' 'Of course.' 'I have borrowed money from the merchant classes and I have extended the project.' She laughed. 'And I thought you were looking for ways to cut costs.' 'I was at first, but I am spurred on by Bikaner. He undertook to build nine irrigation projects, plus railway lines and hospitals. I will employ as many of the local people as I can. Some of these new men will start tomorrow by carrying on the digging. Some will work on building the walls and will then dig irrigation channels out to the villages.' Eliza responded to his unfailing enthusiasm with such a feeling of hope, she feared her heart might burst. 'Of course Bikaner built the Ganga canal. It carries water from the Punjab. We're too far from the Punjab for that, but there is that small river not far from my land. We just need the permission to dam it.' 'Have you fine-tuned the details with the investor Clifford told me about?' 'Indeed. I believe we will create fifty new villages within five years, and that the work they will do will not only pay back the loan but also provide a steady income.' Eliza was pleased, though she hadn't confided in Jay about the string that came oh so neatly attached. 'Well,' she said instead, 'less than four months before the rains come.' 'Yes.' 'I wonder how Indi is?' 'She's gone back to her village now.' Eliza was surprised. 'For good?' 'No. Her grandmother is very ill. Indi has gone to care for her. The Thakur will watch out for her and she will always have a place at the castle.' 'But as what? To fall prey to a man like Chatur? She needs her own life, a husband, a family.' 'You are a fine one to talk of family.' 'What do you mean?' 'You did leave your mother on her own. You said so yourself.' 'I couldn't help her. I tried. If I'd have stayed, my own life would have been wrecked too. She's an alcoholic.' He stared at his feet for a moment and then glanced at her. 'Here we believe that it is the duty of the children to look after the parents.' She stiffened. 'No matter what?' He nodded. 'Does that distress you?' She remained silently thinking and didn't reply. He had no idea what Anna Fraser was like nor how it felt to watch her mother commit slow suicide. 'I tried and I failed,' was what she eventually said. He reached out to her with both hands. 'I'm not judging you.' 'It sounds like you are.' Angry and upset, she refused to take his hands. 'Eliza, come on. I'm only saying it's different here.' She turned on her heels and walked away. A minute later he came up behind and wrapped his arms around her. 'Eliza. Eliza.' He turned her round and then his lips were on her neck. She shuddered, responding immediately to a hand on her shoulder, her breath shortening and her lips parting. When they kissed it seemed to have always been their fate. Then as they walked back to the palace, hand in hand, she banished the doubts to the back of her mind. He had given her his own rooms, and when they arrived at the dari khana , where a large rug on the floor was piled with several cushions, he ordered her to stand still while he undressed her, kissing the underside of her arms and her belly as he did. He was incredibly slow, and even though she was desperate to be lying on the cushions with him she understood what he was doing. When at last she stood naked before him, he kissed her breasts. Then he held her away from him. 'How are you feeling?' 'Crazy. Uncertain. Terrified.' 'Good,' he said. Then she lay back against the cushioned rug. The light in the room had faded and it was almost dark. Wanting to see his face, she wished the lamp had been lit. But now he was on top of her and their bodies were moving rhythmically. She forgot about the lamp. He held back for a moment and explored her face with his fingertips. 'I can still see your beautiful eyes,' he said, 'even in the dark.' When his fingers slipped inside her she gasped. And then they were making love, in a way that she had never known could be possible: the feeling of connection so strong that it took the breath from her lungs. She tried to speak but could not, and then, when it was over, they lay on the bed, both of them dripping with sweat, their legs interwoven. She had lost the power of thought. She wanted this man, that's all there was. More than she had ever wanted anything or anyone, she wanted him with every part of her and she was not going to let him go. 'My beautiful Englishwoman,' he was saying, as he traced the outline of her jaw. 'Still uncertain?' She laughed. 'You really want to know?' 'Shall I light the lamp?' 'Not yet,' she said. 'I want to feel you beside me.' He appeared to be thinking and then he spoke. 'You're brave, my girl. Not sure if I can equal you.' 'Don't be silly. Of course you can. I'm not brave at all.' Before Eliza fell asleep she lay absolutely still, listening to his breath and the silence of the desert night. When she woke she saw that he was still there. Her heart leapt with pleasure as she took that in and she watched him lying asleep. As she gazed at his immensely long eyelashes, and the beautiful burnished quality of his skin, he looked the same. Everything about him and about her looked the same, and yet everything about them both had changed. She touched his face, gently so as not to wake him, but just to feel his softness. She moved closer and kissed his earlobe. He stirred. She ran a fingernail down his neck and then to his stomach. He groaned. Her hand went further down and he hardened beneath her grasp. She had never done this with Oliver, but wanting to now, she moved her hand. He groaned some more and she liked the feeling it gave her. That she could do this to him. Maybe there was something to the sixteen arts of being a woman after all, she thought with a wry smile. Suddenly he pulled her on top of him. 'What are you doing to me?' he said. 'Isn't it obvious?' 'Who knew that behind all that English reserve lay such a wanton hussy?' 'And who knew that you are neither an officer nor a gentleman!' Their days at his palace changed after that. Day after day they worked and made love; ate and made love; walked and made love. And sometimes they spent a day just making love. While they remained at his palace, the rest of the world did not exist. There was just the project and Jay. Eliza had never known such joy. She woke happy and went to sleep with a smile on her face. Why had nobody ever hinted that anything like this was possible? And that thought made her wonder how her parents had been together. Surely if you'd experienced this, even once, you'd be in love with life for ever. When they weren't talking of water or their past lives, they read and talked about books. He said that he'd never read any of the Russians and she told him he had to read War and Peace and The Hunting Sketches by Turgenev. She said that she loved Thomas Hardy and Henry James, but couldn't get on with Dickens. His favourite poet was John Donne, whom she loved too, and hers was Emily Dickinson, whom he'd never heard of. He asked if she'd read Tagore, and when she shook her head he offered to lend her a book. They both liked the movies. They talked of food too, and their favourite places. He loved the squares of London. Had a friend who lived in Orme Square. She laughed and said she'd never had such grand friends. He said he wouldn't tell her about his teenage sexual exploits, and she said she didn't want to know anyway. He never said that he loved her and she didn't say it either. And yet Eliza knew the connection between them went far beyond sex or books or films. And for the first time in her life she actually believed there was such a thing as a soul connection; that there were definitely people you'd meet on a soul level. Some you might only know for an hour or two, some might be friends for ever. And with that thought she recognized that India was changing her. Before, she'd never have thought of souls. Relationships for her had been tricky things, best avoided: not this triumphant process of unwrapping another human being while at the same time they unwrapped you. The space between them was present but it dissolved easily, like living with no walls or boundaries, and she couldn't tell where he left off and she began. And the closer they became, the more the thought grew that without his beautiful eyes to gaze at as they made love, it would be like parting from herself. One evening, when she eventually felt safe enough to allow Jay into the deepest parts of herself, the pain of her father's death wrapped itself around her until something like panic rose from the pit of her stomach. All her attempts at controlling it failed, and now she knew the only thing left was to let the feeling swallow her. She'd either survive or drown. With each burst of emotion the pain increased, crushing her chest and squeezing the breath out. All she could feel was her mind collapsing as the long-held grief consumed her and she finally responded to her deeper needs. Then Jay held her and rocked her as she wept. It was as if she'd never truly cried for her father before and Jay's presence was the only thing that had made it possible. After he had dried her tears with his fingers he held her away from him and looked at her. 'The only thing that can heal such grief is to release the tears you can no longer hide. You have to be ravaged by love to truly know it.' 'Are we ravaged?' she said. He smiled. 'Not yet.' 'You know something about being ravaged?' He shook his head. 'Maybe we'll learn together.' When Jay needed to convince villagers that the scheme would benefit the ordinary people, they rode out to the villages on horseback, and though, at first, the people hung back, after a few visits they smiled broadly whenever they saw him arrive. The severe drought had meant they had been unable to grow crops for two years and their livestock had died. How some survived Eliza didn't know, but then she overheard Jay giving the farmers small loans. She couldn't help thinking what a wonderful ruler he would make. No sitting at home stuffing Turkish delight for him. He was fit and strong, and the more she got to know him the more she realized she had truly fallen in love with him. She put Laxmi's warning to the back of her mind. So long as Anish remained alive, she would not think of the future. They went alone on these trips but for one of Jay's faithful servants, and they camped in small tents, usually set beside a small fire. On one of the return trips they had dismounted and Jay had gone off to collect wood to make a fire. Beyond their tents were some stumpy trees where small green birds fluttered and shifted in the branches and, in the distance, the sands of the desert could just be seen. After Jay came back with a bundle under his arm she watched the concentration on his face as he built the fire and then lit it, and she couldn't help smiling. By the time the fire was fully alight, it was evening but not completely dark, and as the flames of the fire flickered on his face, she sat gazing at him. 'What is it?' 'I was wondering about your father. I know so little about him.' 'He was a giant of a man. A reformer, unlike his father before him who almost lost us the state. I would like to be like my father and, with your help, I think I can do it.' 'With my help?' 'We make a good team, don't you think?' She smiled. 'I hope so.' 'Whereas my paternal grandfather! The British accused him of misrule and he acquired a reputation for corruption and cruelty.' 'What did he do?' 'One of his wives committed suicide in the most horrible way but the story was that really he had killed her. Had he not died suddenly he would have been deposed by the British and we could have lost the kingdom. Luckily my father was an honourable man and became a reforming ruler. He served with the British Army and was able to cross the divide between our two cultures with ease and grace. I remember him, when I was very young, dressed in brocaded silk with a long plume in his turban.' 'Do you look like him?' 'A little. He had magnificent-looking escorts wherever he went, and when we had noble visitors they arrived in silver bullock carts.' 'Not as free in his ways as you are?' 'Times have changed, and he wasn't educated in England.' 'I like you best out in the wilds.' 'But, like me, he loved sport and he raised our state to greater heights by marrying my mother. She came from a very grand royal family. That's how it's always been done, you see. Marriage here is about the marriage of families, not just two individuals. And the entire reputation of the family is at stake.' He stopped speaking and stared into the fire, seeming lost in thought. Although he had dismissed the question of an engagement having already happened, it didn't mean it would not, and the thought played on Eliza's mind. 'Can I ask you something?' she said. 'I'm listening.' 'What about your arranged marriage?' she finally said. He turned to look at her and she saw such sadness in his eyes that it hurt her too. 'This is so new between us. Let's not think about that now.' And although Eliza was happy not to talk about it, she couldn't help thinking. 'Tell me more about your mother,' he said. She sighed. 'My mother has had problems with drink for years. I think my father's death broke her. She was proud but never a strong woman, and there was no money, you see. She had to rely on the charity of James Langton. Although she called him my uncle we were not related. She had known him before she married my father, and then when we returned to England he became my mother's lover.' 'That must have been hard on you too?' 'I only had her. No relatives, or at least no relatives who would see us. I loved my father, but my relationship with my mother has always been difficult. She sent a letter while I was here saying such terrible things about my father, accusing him of ruining us with his gambling and of having had a mistress for years.' 'Perhaps there's some advantage to having more than one wife.' He paused to gauge her expression. 'No mistresses necessary.' She knew he was joking or at least half joking, but couldn't help her angry retort. 'Except that it doesn't work the other way round. Nobody stops to think that we might rather like to have more than one husband.'