The Glass Palace (26 page)

‘Madame? Mrs Dey?' He was peering at her, frowning in concern. ‘Mrs Dey, are you all right?'

‘Yes, yes.' She snatched her hand away. ‘Just a little dizzy. I don't know what the matter is.'

‘Shall we go back inside?'

‘Yes.' She rose to her feet. ‘Mr Raha, you still haven't told me. What is it that you expect of me?'

‘Perhaps you could speak to her.'

‘You must speak to her yourself, Mr Raha. Things never turn out well when there are go-betweens.'

He looked at her closely and then, suddenly, taking her by surprise, he said: ‘The Collector is a fine man, Mrs Dey, a good man. Men like him are worth many—'

‘Yes, of course,' she interrupted him quickly. ‘Yes. Come let us go in.'

The ayah led Dolly to the drawing room and showed her the open window. ‘Madame went into the garden—just a few minutes ago.' Dolly nodded: of course, at this time of the day Uma was always to be found under the peepul tree. She went hurrying down the lawn, past the salaaming malis, to the wicket gate. Just as she was fumbling with the latch, she heard voices. Before she could turn back, Uma and Rajkumar appeared before her, stepping suddenly out of the peepul's gnarled grey beard. They stood staring at each other, all three of them.

Uma was the first to speak. ‘Mr Raha,' she said quietly, ‘I hope you will not take it amiss if I ask you to leave us for a minute? I would like to talk to Dolly—just a few words. Perhaps you could wait for us here by the garden gate?'

‘Of course.'

Uma took Dolly's arm. ‘Come, let's go and sit under the tree for a bit.'

As they were picking their way through the labyrinth of roots beneath the peepul tree, Dolly whispered: ‘What was he doing here, Uma? What does he want?'

‘He was talking. About you.'

‘What did he say?'

‘I think he was trying to tell me that he's in love with you.' Uma seated herself under the tree and pulled Dolly down beside her.

‘Oh, Uma.' Dolly buried her face in her hands. ‘Last night, in your garden, he said so many things to me. It was so strange, so upsetting. I couldn't sleep, I kept thinking of home—Mandalay, the palace, the walls of glass.'

‘He said you had no memory of him.'

‘I thought not.'

‘Do you then?'

‘I'm not sure Uma. I remember someone, a boy, very dark; I remember being given a little packet of food; I remember Evelyn saying, take it, take it. But nothing is clear. It was so long ago, and whenever I think of it, I am frightened.'

‘I think he really is in love with you, Dolly.'

‘He's in love with what he remembers. That isn't me.'

‘What about you, Dolly? What do you feel?'

‘I'm frightened, Uma. I've made such terrible mistakes in the past. I promised myself I would never allow myself to make another.'

‘What mistakes?'

‘I've never told you this Uma, but many years ago, I thought I was in love with Mohanbhai—our coachman. Then the Princess found out. She threatened us. I suppose she was already in love with him herself.'

‘Did you want to marry him?'

‘I don't know, Uma. I was very young, and I didn't really understand what was happening. During the day I would keep him out of my mind. But at night I would dream of him and then I would wake up and think: Why can't we run away? Why can't I just wrap my things in a bundle right now, and go down to him and wake him up and say: “Mohanbhai, let's go, there's nothing for us here at Outram House”? But where could we have gone? And what would we have done? His family is very poor and they depend on him. In my heart I knew that even if I had begged him he would not have left.

And this was the worst part of it, the humiliation. I would think, to myself, have I too become a servant, in my heart, as he has?'

‘Did you ever tell him?'

‘No. We never spoke, except of everyday matters. And after a while the dreams stopped and I thought, I am free of him now, it's all right at last. But last night, when I was sleeping in that room of yours, I began to dream again. I was at Outram House, in my bed. There was a mango tree beside my window. I got out of my bed and tied my things together, in a bundle, and slung it over my back. I climbed down and went running through the compound to the gatehouse. The door was open and I went in. It was dark and all I could see of him was his white langot, knotted tightly between his legs, rising and falling with his breath. I put my hand on his body. My knuckle fitted perfectly into the hollow at the base of his throat. He woke up and he looked at me and touched my face. And then he said: Shall we go? We went outside, and when we were in the moonlight I saw that it was not Mohanbhai.'

‘Who was it?'

‘It was him.' She inclined her head in the direction of the gate, where they had left Rajkumar.

‘And then?'

‘I woke up. I was terrified. I was in your house, in that bedroom. I couldn't bear to stay another moment. I went and woke Kanhoji.'

‘Dolly. I think you have to tell him.'

‘Whom?'

‘Mr Raha.'

‘No.' Dolly began to sob with her head on Uma's shoulder. ‘No. Uma, all I can think of now is the birth of my child. There is no space in my head for anything else.'

Gently, Uma ran her hand over Dolly's head. ‘The child is not yours, Dolly.'

‘But it could have been.'

‘Dolly, listen to me.' Putting her hands on Dolly's shoulders,
Uma propped her up so she could look into her face. ‘Dolly, will you believe me if I tell you that I love you like I've never loved anyone before? I was just a girl before I met you. You've shown me what courage is, what human beings can endure. I can't bear to think of being without you. I don't think I could remain here a single day if you weren't here. But I know this too, Dolly: you must go if you can. You must go now. The birth of this child will drive you out of your mind if you stay on at Outram House.'

‘Don't say that, Uma.'

‘Dolly, listen to me. This man loves you. I am convinced of it. You must at least allow yourself to listen to him.'

‘Uma, I can't. Not now. Not with the child coming. If it was last year . . .'

‘Then you must tell him that yourself. You owe him that.'

‘No. Uma, no.'

Uma rose to her feet. ‘I'm going to send him here. It'll only take a minute.'

‘Don't leave, Uma. Please.' She clutched at Uma's hands. ‘Please don't.'

‘This is something that has to be done, Dolly. There is no way round it. I'll send him here. Then I'll go to the house. I'll be waiting. Come and tell me what happens.'

Rajkumar spotted her as he was picking his way round the tree: Dolly was sitting erect on the earthen bench, her hands folded neatly in her lap. He threw away his dying cheroot and put another to his lips. His hand was shaking so hard that it took him several tries to light a match.

‘Miss Dolly.'

‘Mr Raha.'

‘My name is Rajkumar. I would be glad if you would call me that.'

She mouthed the syllables hesitantly. ‘Rajkumar . . .' ‘Thank you.'

‘Uma wanted me to speak to you.'

‘Yes?'

‘But the truth is I have nothing to say.'

‘Then let me—'

She held up a hand to stop him. ‘Please. Let me finish. You must understand. It's impossible.'

‘Why is it impossible? I would like to know. I am a practical man. Tell me and I will try to do something about it.'

‘There is a child.'

‘A child?' Rajkumar removed the cheroot from his mouth. ‘Whose child? Yours?'

‘The First Princess is with child. The father works in Outram House. I too was once in love with him—the father of the Princess's child. You should know this. I am not the nine-year-old girl I was in Mandalay.'

‘Are you in love with him now?'

‘No.'

‘Then the rest is immaterial to me.'

‘Mr Raha, you must understand. There are things you cannot change no matter how much money you have. Things might have been different for us in another time, another place. But it's too late now. This is my home. I have lived all my life here. My place is here at Outram House.'

Now, at last, the hopes that had sustained him this far began slowly to leak away. He had said all he could. He could think of no other way to plead with her, and she silenced him before he could begin.

‘Please. I beg you, do not say anything more. You will merely cause unnecessary pain. There are things in this world that cannot be, no matter how much we may want them.'

‘But this can be . . . could be, if only you would allow yourself to think of it.'

‘No. Please say no more. I've made up my mind. There is only one thing I want to ask of you now.'

‘What is that?'

‘I ask that you leave Ratnagiri as soon as you can.' He flinched, then bowed his head.

‘I can see no reason to refuse.' Without another word, he turned and walked away, into the shadows of the bearded peepul.

fourteen

S
awant.'

Removing his binoculars from his eyes, the King pointed in the direction of the bay. A boat stood moored at the jetty, a large country craft of a type known locally as a hori: a deep-hulled catamaran with a single outrigger.

‘Sawant, he is leaving.'

‘Min?' It was very early and Sawant had brought the King the cup of tea he liked to drink at daybreak.

‘The man who arrived the other day on the Bombay steamer. He is leaving. They are loading his luggage at the jetty.'

‘Min, there is no steamer today.'

‘He's hired a boat.' At this time of year, soon after the departure of the monsoons, there was a change in the prevailing currents and the waters round the mouth of the bay became, for a short while, exceptionally hazardous. During these weeks horis were the only sailing craft that would brave the swirling undertow that swept the coast.

‘Min.' Sawant placed the pot of tea beside the King's chair and backed quickly out of the room.

Apart from the King and Sawant himself, the house was still asleep. The anteroom where Dolly slept was just a couple of doors down the corridor. Dolly had the suite to herself now, for the First Princess rarely came upstairs any more, preferring mainly to stay in the gatehouse, with Sawant.

Pushing Dolly's door open, Sawant slipped inside. She was asleep, lying on the same narrow cot that she had used for the last twenty years. Her hair had come loose during the night and lay fanned across her pillow. In repose her skin looked almost translucent, and her face had the serene beauty of a temple carving. Standing over her bed, watching the slow rhythms of her breath, Sawant hesitated.

Yesterday, on his way to his village on the estuary, Sawant had met a goatherd who was returning from the direction of the Residency. They had talked for a while, about the peepul tree, about the Collector's memsahib, about the rich prince from Burma and how he was besotted with Dolly.