Sword of Empire Page 4

  ‘I shall be sorry to see you go,’ she said.

  He still held her arm. ‘You said once that you would like to see Sittapore.’

  ‘Oh, I would!’

  ‘Then, if I asked you to come with me, next week, would you say yes?’

  Now she was utterly breathless. Go to Sittapore, with the Rajah? But as what?

  He could read her expression. ‘You would come as my wife, of course.’

  His wife! ‘The wife of a rajah. She would be a rani. But...he was a Hindu, and therefore probably already had several wives. And then as a Hindu, he would wish to...she had no idea. He had always been the perfect gentleman with her, had never touched more than her hand, nor had she had the courage to flirt with him as she had done with poor Guy Bartlett. But every Englishwoman in Bombay whispered about Indian lovemaking, how unnatural it was. As if they knew anything about it!

  ‘That prospect does not please you?’ Sitraj enquired softly.

  ‘Oh, it...it...it pleases me very much, Highness. But...’

  ‘I know. There are difficulties. But difficulties are there to be overcome. Let us begin at the beginning. Have I your permission to speak with your father?’

  ‘Oh...yes. Yes, of course,’ she stammered.

  *

  ‘Mr Carmichael Dean is here to see you, Your Excellency,’ the Governor’s secretary said.

  ‘Dean! Yes. I supposed he would come to me, soon enough. Very well, Rodgers, show him in.’

  Mountstuart Elphinstone leaned back in his chair, arranging his features into a suitably severe expression. The Governor was an easy-going man, who believed in getting on with everyone, but this was too much. He could not believe that Sitraj, who was a very good sort of fellow, would ever commit the slightest impropriety, but he could well believe that a silly girl like Laura Dean might suppose he had. It was all Dean’s fault for allowing his daughter to see so much of the Rajah in the first place. If he was now seeking redress for some imagined insult from one of the Company’s most loyal supporters, he had another think coming.

  ‘Mr Carmichael Dean,’ Rodgers announced.

  Carmichael came into the Governor’s office, slightly over-awed. He had never been in here before.

  ‘Well, Dean.’ Elphinstone did not get up. ‘Take a seat.’

  ‘Thank you, Your Excellency.’ Dean sat down.

  ‘Now tell me what your problem is.’

  ‘Well, Sir...’ Dean swallowed. ‘It’s this rajah fellow, Sitraj.’

  ‘Ah. You have a complaint to make about His Highness?’

  ‘Complaint, Your Excellency, well...’ Dean took a long breath. ‘He wants to marry my daughter. Asked to see me, proper as you please.’

  ‘Good God!’

  The Governor dined with Sitraj every evening, as the Rajah was a guest at Government House, and while he was aware that the young devil had been vastly taken with Miss Dean at the ball and had seen seeing a great deal of her ever since, it had never occurred to the Governor that he would go so far.

  ‘Quite,’ Dean agreed.

  Marriage, between the Rajah of Sittapore and a white girl? Whatever would the Directors say?

  Oh the other hand, the boy’s infatuation might well be entirely to the Company’s advantage.

  But to have chosen Laura Dean...

  ‘Does the Rajah know who you are?’ he asked. ‘I mean — forgive me, my dear— does he know you are a...well...a writer?’

  ‘Oh, yes. He has been to my house several times. Of course he knows about Harrison’s death, but I don’t suppose anything I might have inherited would make much difference to him.’

  ‘Even supposing you had inherited anything,’ Elphinstone remarked drily.

  Dean flushed.

  ‘I’m afraid I do require to be kept informed of everything that happens in my Presidency,’ Elphinstone pointed out. ‘However, I entirely agree that even if your brother had left you his every penny it would not interest the Rajah. I assume he has not raised the matter of a dowry?’

  ‘Well, no. In fact, he suggested that there might be a lot coming the other way, if you follow me.’

  Then he was absolutely serious, Elphinstone thought. With the carelessness of omnipotent power and inexhaustible wealth, he had seen something he wanted, and was determined to buy it. Well, then, serve the young rascal right. He should at least enjoy himself.

  ‘Oh, I do, Dean. I do. Let me get this absolutely straight. The Rajah, in full knowledge that you are nothing more than a clerk, and that you have not got two pennies to rub together, and that your daughter has been brought up in these penurious circumstances, has never known any other life, and has no dowry, has asked for her hand in marriage?’

  Dean gulped. ‘If you choose to put it that way, Your Excellency, yes.’

  ‘And has even suggested that he might pay you for the privilege. How much?’

  ‘Well, he asked if twenty-five thousand pounds would be sufficient.’

  ‘Twenty-five...So what exactly did you wish to see me about, Dean?’

  ‘Well, Your Excellency, my daughter is an English lady, and this fellow is...’

  ‘A rajah, which is all that truly matters, surely. As well as being, of course, a very wealthy man.’

  ‘But we know nothing about him,’ Dean objected.

  ‘Well...’ Elphinstone enjoyed the opportunity to pontificate. ‘You will no doubt know that the Scindhia family are basically Marathas. The Marathas gained their independence from the Mughal Emperors about a hundred years ago, and for most of that hundred years were a formidable military power. However, in the course of time they split up into several principalities, of which that held by the Scindhia family, and known as Scindhia, remained the most recalcitrant. Why, thirty years ago, this boy’s grandfather, Mahadaji Scindhia, took possession of Delhi and set the then Emperor up as his puppet. He had a large army, trained and commanded by French mercenaries. We had to put out a considerable effort to defeat him. But it was done, by the Duke of Wellington and General Lake, and the Scindhia territory was split up into smallish jaghirs, each given to one of the princes of the house, on condition they became clients of the Company. Sitraj happens to be one of these princes. Sittapore was actually given to his father, but he died very soon afterwards. There was some suspicion of foul play, I believe, something to do with a jealous brother. In any event, Sitraj sorted the situation out, and although very young, only eighteen when he succeeded, has proved a most successful ruler and, I may say, a very good client of the Company. His jaghir, centred around the city of Sittapore, is not very large, but very rich in produce as well as precious stones.’

  Carmichael was showing signs of impatience; he knew as much about Indian politics as the Governor.

  ‘What I meant was, Your Excellency, I know nothing about his...personal habits. He is a Hindu...well!’

  ‘Ah. Yes. I take your point. Hm.’ Elphinstone allowed himself to imagine the luscious Laura in the arms of a Hindu lover. ‘Well...all marriages are to a certain extent a business of give and take, Dean.’

  ‘Your Excellency, are you seriously suggesting I agree to this proposal?’

  ‘Well...’ Elphinstone scratched his ear. ‘As I have mentioned, it is my business to know what goes on in this Presidency. You left England because of an undischarged debt, Dean. What was the amount?’

  ‘Two thousand pounds,’ Carmichael muttered.

  ‘Eighteen years ago. With interest at say, two per cent, that is probably close to three thousand by now. But three thousand taken away from twenty-five leaves a very tidy sum. How old are you?’

  ‘Forty-eight.’

  ‘Well, you see, in a few more years you will have to retire. What then? You could not afford to remain here. But if you return to England without the wherewithal to pay the debt you will go straight into gaol, no doubt for the rest of your life.’

  Carmichael gulped. He knew the awful situation only too well.

  ‘Whereas twenty-two thousand, invested in Consol
s, could bring you in a modestly comfortable income for the rest of your life. Besides, if you put your situation honestly to the Prince, he might increase his offer.’

  ‘But Laura...it seems so much like selling her.’

  ‘My dear fellow, when is marriage not a case of making the best bargain possible? If your daughter has allowed herself to be squired by the Rajah for the past week, she cannot actually be repelled by him.’

  ‘Well...she isn’t. She seems quite taken with him.’

  ‘Look here, Dean, why do you not put the matter to your daughter? I know it is not usual, but this is an unusual situation.’

  ‘What will people say...?’

  ‘It will not matter what people say, Dean. You and your wife, if you so choose, will be on your way home to England, and your daughter will be the wealthiest woman in India.’

  ‘But what about suttee?’

  ‘We have outlawed suttee.’

  ‘On Company land. But Sittapore is not Company land.’

  ‘I happen to know that Rajah Sitraj has also outlawed suttee in his jaghir. However, I am sure if you mention your misgivings to him, he will agree to insert a clause in the marriage contract to the effect that your daughter will not be subject to any Hindu laws, religious or otherwise. Come to think of it, that might be a very good idea.’

  ‘Suppose this fellow has other wives?’

  ‘The Rajah will, I am sure, be reasonable,’ Elphinstone said.

  *

  ‘Your father is a very protective man,’ Sitraj said. He was sitting beside Laura on the verandah of the Dean bungalow.

  They were quite alone, yet not alone. Mama was hovering just inside the door, Papa as well, no doubt. The Prince’s servants waited at the gate by his phaeton. And every surrounding bungalow was in darkness, suggesting that their owners were out, but in reality, as Laura well knew, to enable the windows overlooking the Dean household to be manned in force.

  But at least they could not be overheard, as long as they kept their voices down.

  ‘I am his only child,’ she said, hardly aware of what she was saying. She felt rushed off her feet, as if it were all a dream. Papa had needed several stiff drinks after the Prince had spoken with him yesterday. Sitraj had then departed, saying he would return for an answer this evening; he had almost made it sound like an ultimatum. Papa had then gone rushing off to see the Governor this morning, had this evening received the Prince again in private...and then she had been invited to sit on the verandah, in the dark, and converse with him.

  ‘Here is what I have agreed with him,’ Sitraj said. ‘I had no idea that he was in straitened circumstances. So I have agreed to make him a settlement of forty thousand pounds, which should enable him to liquidate his debts and live the life of a country gentleman in England.’

  ‘Oh, Highness,’ she gasped.

  ‘I have also agreed that you will be my principal wife. I do have others, as well as concubines. Well, it is the custom amongst my people. But you will be Rani of Sittapore.’

  ‘Rani of Sittapore,’ she whispered. It sounded incredibly romantic.

  ‘I have also agreed that we shall be married in a Christian church, here in Bombay. The Hindu ceremony can take place when we return to Sittapore. But the Christian ceremony will make us man and wife. This ceremony will take place the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘The day after...that’s not possible.’

  ‘Everything is possible, my dear Laura, when one wills it. But it will not be possible unless you accept my proposal. Your father has left the final decision to you.’

  ‘Oh!’ But was she going to refuse? She had already virtually accepted, perhaps feeling almost certain that Papa would reject the idea out of hand. But he had not. And now...Did she love him? She had no idea. He was an attractive man, and the idea of marriage to him had seemed infinitely preferable to remaining poverty-stricken Laura Dean, or even if she were to be honest, the equally poverty-stricken if respectable Mrs Guy Bartlett. Sitraj would sweep her away from all that. She would be Rani of Sittapore!

  But would she be marrying simply for money and position? Surely not. Sitraj was a man she could very well come to love, given time. And he would never hurt her.

  ‘So?’ he asked.

  ‘I would very much like to be your wife, Highness,’ she said. ‘In that case, you will now call me Sitraj in private, Highness only in public.’

  ‘Oh. Yes.’

  ‘I have a present for you.’ He felt in one of the pockets on his tunic, and held out an emerald. She gasped, for it was as big as her thumbnail and winked at her even in the gloom, catching the stray ray of light from the window. ‘I will have it made into a ring for you when we reach Sittapore,’ he said. ‘But I wish you to have the stone, now.’

  He placed it in her hand.

  ‘And now,’ he said, ‘before we go in to your parents, I believe there is an English formality.’

  She turned her face up for his kiss. It was a mere brushing of the lips, but as he kissed her, the tips of his fingers drifted forward and stroked, with the lightness of a feather, across the bodice of her gown. She had to repress a start, for the shock ran right through her. Before she could catch her breath, he was standing, and holding out his hand for her.

  He had taken possession.

  *

  For forty-eight hours, life in the Dean household was chaotic beyond belief. Every seamstress in Bombay moved into the house, seduced by the Rajah’s fortune. Marjorie Dean, who had appeared to be in a state of shock over the preceding two days, came to with a start when she discovered that her daughter’s wedding dress was to be an emerald green sari.

  ‘I’ll have no such thing,’ she declared. ‘Laura is pure. She will wear white.’

  ‘But white is the colour of mourning, memsahib,’ explained the head seamstress. ‘No bride can be married in mourning.’

  Laura opted for the green. She was leaving European custom behind.

  Marjorie subsided again. But on the morning of the wedding she summoned Laura for a little chat.

  ‘We have never spoken of marriage,’ she remarked.

  ‘No,’ Laura agreed.

  ‘It is, I suppose, a very proper business, ordained by God. And you will be married in a Christian church, which is something to be thankful for. Afterwards...Oh, Laura!’ She burst into tears.

  Laura held her close. ‘I shall be well cared for, Mama. Sitraj is a gentleman.’

  ‘Laura, whatever he demands of you, whatever he inflicts upon you, remember always that you are a Christian lady.’

  *

  Carmichael was in a far better humour. The tailors had been busy about him as well, and he was resplendent in a new suit of best grey broadcloth. He had bought himself a watch and chain, and a gold-headed cane, and was very much the gentleman of means. He had already sent in his resignation to the Company.

  This was something else that had upset Marjorie. ‘You cannot mean to sail away and leave Laura all alone,’ she complained.

  ‘She will not be alone,’ Carmichael pointed out. ‘She will be with her husband. In Sittapore. That is more than a hundred miles from Bombay.’

  ‘England is ten thousand,’ Marjorie moaned. But she was again reassured by Laura, who was very happy at the thought of her parents departing. Much as she loved them, she knew they could only ever be an embarrassment to the Rajah, and to herself as Rani. Rani of Sittapore! How she loved the sound of that.

  *

  The church was crowded because, overnight, Sitraj had had sufficient invitations handwritten to be sent to every member of the Bombay community who was anyone at all, and there were very few who did not attend, even at such short notice.

  The streets were crowded as well, as news got around that the Rajah of Sittapore was marrying an Englishwoman, and as Laura and Carmichael were driven to the church in their hired coach there were cheers and shouts.

  Governor Elphinstone had turned out the military to keep order. No doubt Guy Bartlett was amongst t
hem, but Laura did not see him. She did not wish to. He remained a stain on her conscience, partly because of any hurt she might have caused him, but more importantly because the future Rani of Sittapore had lain in his arms. Thank God her commonsense had saved her from making an irretrievable error.

  The aide-de-camp, Colonel Mujhabi, acted as best man, obviously in a state of total confusion as to what was going on. Sitraj himself had to be led through the service by the bishop, but he responded well, smiling at Laura as he did so. And again his kiss was the gentlest touch imaginable. Yet she could see his desire for her in his eyes. She wondered what he could see in hers?

  Elphinstone had decided that, as even with the Deans’ sudden enormous wealth their bungalow remained quite unsuitable, and as Sitraj was in any event his guest, the reception would be held at Government House, and thence the Rajah of Sittapore and his wife drove in an open carriage, shaded from the afternoon sun by huge umbrellas, through cheering crowds. Every woman in Bombay who had ever sniffed and turned her head away as Laura Dean had passed by, every man who had ever ogled her, now had to curtsey to or kiss the hand of the Rani of Sittapore. She felt a glow of triumph.

  Suddenly she found herself gazing at Guy Bartlett.

  He had clearly been on duty, and was just about the last of the guests to come in. Now he bowed over her hand. ‘My congratulations, Your Highness,’ he said. ‘May I wish you great joy...and prosperity.’

  Laura caught the deliberate hesitation. No doubt he assumed she had married for money. No doubt a great many people assumed that.

  She looked him in the eye. ‘Why, thank you, Mr Bartlett. May I in turn wish you all the good fortune in the world.’

  He then shook hands with the Rajah, but Sitraj had heard the exchange. ‘A friend of yours?’ he asked softly.

  Laura knew it would never do to lie to her husband. No doubt he was kept well informed of Bombay gossip, and she could not tell to how many of his fellow officers Guy had spoken of his proposal.

  ‘Mr Bartlett asked me to marry him, only a few days before you did.’

  ‘You did not tell me of this.’

  ‘Because I refused him.’