Sword of Empire Read online

  ‘Don’t know if anything will come of it,’ Elphinstone observed. ‘Bartlett hasn’t two brass farthings to rub together, save for his pay. But then, neither does Partridge,’ he added sadly.

  Laura spent most of the rest of the game watching the couple in front of her. They seemed very friendly, often bringing their heads close together as they discussed the game, although as she remembered Guy Bartlett was most definitely an infantry officer; the last time she had seen him he had sat his horse on parade with a good deal of discomfort.

  She asked without thinking, ‘Will Lieutenant Bartlett be coming to the ball?’

  ‘Why, do you know, I hadn’t thought of it,’ Elphinstone said. ‘But of course he should. The Partridges will he coming. I’ll certainly have Rodgers send Bartlett an invitation.’

  *

  The ball was a much grander occasion than the one in 1825. Laura was the guest of honour, and stood in line after Elphinstone and Sitraj to receive the guests.

  I-low splendid it was to hear the Governor say, ‘And may I present to you, Your Highness...’

  Guy Bartlett arrived early.

  ‘Why, Lieutenant Bartlett,’ she said. ‘How well you look.’

  ‘As do you, Your Highness,’ he said. ‘You look perfectly splendid.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Mr Bartlett. Tell me, how is your dog? What was his name? Rufus.’

  ‘Rufus is a father, Your Highness.’

  She raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Yes,’ Guy went on, ‘I purchased him a wife. It is the thing to do. With dogs, I mean.’

  She glanced at him. How insufferably rude!

  ‘May I hope for the privilege of a dance during the evening, Your Highness?’

  ‘Why, Mr Bartlett,’ she said coldly. ‘You may hope for anything.’

  Of course, he knew she would dance with him. The filling of her card had been left to the Rajah’s aide-de-camp, Colonel Mujhabi, of which Guy would have been well aware, thus his early appearance. The colonel was under the strictest instructions to allow no guest more than one dance, reserving two for the Governor and four for the Rajah. Guy was certainly early enough to write down his name for one of the remaining dances. Well, she thought, she would dance with the wretch, and squash him like a fly.

  She found herself face to face with the Partridges.

  ‘Your Highness.’ Florence Partridge curtsied. ‘May I say how beautiful you look tonight?’

  ‘You’re so kind,’ Laura said sweetly.

  Partridge muttered something as he kissed her hand. Prudence came next.

  ‘Your Highness,’ she mumbled, giving a somewhat uncertain curtsey. Laura had to grasp her hand to stop her from falling over.

  ‘You should practise, Prudence dear,’ she said, with her most charming smile. ‘Mr Bartlett is already here, by the way.’

  Prudence flushed crimson, and hurried off.

  *

  The night turned into a long succession of men, smiling nervously, sweating profusely, treading on her toes — few of them were familiar with the waltz. To dance from time to time with Sitraj, and Elphinstone, who also waltzed well, was an enormous relief. Between dances she was invariably escorted to sit with one of the elderly matrons. This was quite enjoyable, because they were all women who would not so much have noticed her in the street two years before, but for that very reason conversation was limited.

  ‘Every man in the room wished to dance with you, Highness,’ Colonel Mujhabi laughed. ‘I am afraid the majority have been disappointed.’

  She smiled at him, and saw Guy Bartlett approaching. It was nearly midnight; he had clearly only just been in time to write his name in her card for all his early arrival.

  During the first part of the evening he had danced almost exclusively with Prudence, Laura had observed. They had moved well together, and their conversation had been quite animated.

  He led her on to the floor and bowed.

  ‘I apologise for being so tardy, Your Highness. There were two vacancies before this one on your card, but I thought a waltz would be preferable to a gavotte or a polka. We have never danced before, have we.’

  ‘How thoughtful you are, Mr Bartlett,’ she said, as his hand settled on her waist, and he swept her into the rhythm of the music.

  ‘Do you know, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘Mr Bartlett!’

  Let him not think he could charm her so easily.

  ‘I am sorry, Your Highness. It just slipped out.’

  Perhaps he had been drinking; his face was certainly flushed.

  ‘I once told you never to apologise,’ she said, and realised that also had just slipped out.

  ‘What a great many memories we share,’ he said.

  ‘Do you suppose Miss Partridge would approve of your flirting like this?’ she asked coolly. ‘I know I do not.’

  The music stopped, and they stood, still gazing at each other.

  ‘I could never flirt with you, Laura,’ he said.

  Hastily she stepped away from him.

  ‘Thank you for the dance, Mr Bartlett.’

  ‘Would you like to see Rufus again?’

  ‘Rufus?’

  ‘My dog. You asked after him. Would you, Laura?’

  People were starting to leave the floor, and he was still holding her hand. Gently she disengaged it.

  ‘I still take him for a walk on the beach whenever I am able,’ he said. ‘I shall do that tomorrow. At midday.’

  ‘If I walk on the beach, Mr Bartlett,’ she said, ‘be sure I shall not be alone.’

  ‘Please be there,’ he whispered, and escorted her back to her chair.

  *

  ‘That was a splendid party, Your Excellency,’ Laura said at breakfast. ‘Do you know, I have no idea what time we got to bed.’

  ‘About four, I think,’ Elphinstone said.

  ‘Good heavens. And what have you got planned for us today?’

  ‘Well today, I’m afraid, I must attend church parade.’

  ‘Oh!’ Laura turned to Sitraj. ‘Do you think I could possibly go to church, Your Highness? It has been so long.’

  ‘Of course,’ Sitraj said. ‘You do not mind if I do not?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said.

  ‘Colonel Mujhabi will accompany you.’

  ‘That will be very nice,’ she said.

  *

  She rode with the Governor in his trap, sat beside him in his pew, and enjoyed the stares and whispers. The bishop, although clearly taken aback at seeing a sari in his church, spoke with her afterwards while Elphinstone waited patiently.

  ‘One would really like to see the Indian rulers allow more missionaries into their dominions,’ he said. ‘But now, with a Christian Queen of Sittapore, may we hope for a great advance?’

  ‘It is certainly possible,’ Laura said, trying to imagine what Bilkis would make of a Christian missionary, or what the missionary would make of the joyously erotic statues, or the nautch dancers who often entertained the royal family in the evenings, quite naked save for their jewellery.

  Guy Bartlett had not been at church. And it was now nearly noon.

  ‘I wonder,’ she said to the Governor, ‘if! might go for a walk on the beach before returning home? I feel in great need of some fresh air. All that champagne last night.’

  ‘And the late hours,’ he agreed. ‘I think that is an excellent idea, Your Highness. Would you mind if I did not accompany you? I’m afraid even on Sundays I have some work to do.’

  ‘Of course I shall not be offended. Colonel Mujhabi will escort me.’

  Elphinstone’s horse had been brought along by one of his servants, and now he mounted and rode off, while Laura got into the trap, Mujhabi obediently trotting at her side.

  ‘What part of the beach, Highness?’ asked the driver.

  ‘Just go straight across the island,’ Laura told him.

  She smiled graciously at the various ladies they passed as they drov
e past the houses and down the track through the trees. Now Mujhabi had to fall behind the trap, as there was insufficient room for him beside her.

  ‘Stop here,’ she told the driver, as the trap reached the grass before the beach, and she looked out at the Arabian Sea.

  Mujhabi immediately dismounted to assist her down. ‘You should have a parasol, Your Highness.’

  ‘I will carry it myself, Colonel,’ Laura told him. ‘It is the custom among Englishwomen. You remain here.’

  She was sure the Colonel could have no idea that the coming meeting was not entirely an accident. She wondered whether Guy Bartlett might at the last moment get cold feet and abandon the project.

  She strolled down the sand to the water’s edge, gazing at the shimmering surface. She had never stood like this, utterly exposed to the sun and the wind, in a sari before. The parasol protected her head, but the thin silk fluttered against her skin in the cool breeze. It was a curiously exciting sensation.

  She heard barking, and turned, her heart pounding. Rufus she recognised immediately, though he had grown considerably since she last saw him.

  Mujhabi gave a shout of alarm and ran from the trees, his tulwar drawn. At the sight of him, the dog stopped and growled, teeth bared.

  ‘Go back, Colonel, go back!’ Laura shouted.

  ‘But, Your Highness, the animal will savage you.’

  ‘No, he will not,’ Laura assured him, walking back up the beach. ‘Come along, Rufus!’ She gave a little whistle. ‘Come along!’

  Rufus cocked his ears and turned back towards her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Guy just emerging round the little headland of trees; he had the sense to stop and wait for a moment before coming on.

  ‘You go back to the trap, Colonel,’ Laura reassured him, as Rufus lay down with his paws in the air. ‘You see, he will not harm me!’

  Mujhabi did as she requested, clearly amazed at the influence she had over the huge beast.

  Laura stooped down to stroke and tickle Rufus, and listened to boots crunching on the sand. She raised her head. ‘I think Rufus remembers me.’

  ‘That fellow...’

  ‘You did not expect me to come alone, did you, Mr Bartlett?’

  She stood up.

  ‘I hardly expected to see you at all,’ he confessed.

  ‘I wished to see my old friend again,’ she told him, patting Rufus’s head.

  ‘When do you go back to Sittapore?’

  ‘Not until after Christmas, I think.’

  ‘Laura, are you happy?’

  ‘Are you not happy, Mr Bartlett?’

  ‘I am the most miserable fellow on earth.’

  ‘What, with Miss Partridge so obviously in love with you?’

  ‘That is part of my misery. I do not love her. I love you, Laura. I loved you from the moment I saw you. Did you really marry that Indian fellow just for money?’

  ‘You are being insulting, sir.’

  ‘Then you did!’

  ‘I married my husband because I fell in love with him, Mr Bartlett. I am still in love with him. If I had suspected you were going to carry on in this ridiculous fashion, I would certainly not have come. Now I must bid you good day.’

  She turned away from him, and he caught her arm.

  ‘Be careful what you do,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Colonel Mujhabi is most certainly watching.’

  ‘I love you, Laura. I shall always love you.’

  The words she had come to Bombay to hear.

  ‘That is very sweet of you, Mr Bartlett. I shall always treasure those sentiments. But I am married to another. I do not think we should, or shall, meet again.’ She held out her hand. ‘Marry your Prudence, Mr Bartlett, and be happy.’

  *

  ‘Mujhabi has told me of your adventure on the beach,’ Sitraj said that night. ‘Attacked by a savage dog, which you quieted with a word.’

  She smiled. ‘I’m no magician, my love. I knew that dog two years ago. He belongs to Mr Barlett.’

  ‘Ah! Was Bartlett the man you spoke with on the beach?’

  ‘Yes. He was exercising his dog, and as usual he got somewhat out of control. Fortunately, as I have said, Rufus remembered me.’

  ‘Mujhabi was quite upset,’ he remarked. ‘What did you and Bartlett have to say to one another? He did not, I hope, presume in any way, in view of your earlier relationship?’

  ‘By no means. He apologised for his dog, and I congratulated him on his engagement.’

  ‘His engagement?’

  ‘To Miss Partridge, the Colonel’s daughter. Did you not know of it?’

  ‘No,’ Sitraj said. ‘I’m afraid I do not pay much attention to Bombay gossip.’

  Was that a rebuke?

  She lay on his chest. ‘Sitraj, when can we go home?’

  ‘I thought you wished to stay until Christmas.’

  ‘Well, I do not think I do, any more. I would rather be in Sittapore for Christmas with Sivitraj.’

  He smiled as he kissed her. ‘But what about all your shopping?’

  ‘I have done everything I came to Bombay to do,’ she assured him.

  ‘Well then, I have promised to play polo next Saturday afternoon, for the Governor’s Team against the Army. We shall leave the next day.’

  ‘One week,’ she said. ‘That will be ideal.’

  *

  She did not leave Government House again all week, not wishing to risk encountering Guy. Instead, she buried herself in the library, starved as she was for English books in Sittapore.

  Elphinstone was delighted. He was a great connoisseur of books, and the tragedy of his adventurous life had happened during ‘that little trouble with the Peshwa’ ten years before, when the residency at Poona had been sacked by the Marathas and his carefully-collected library destroyed. But he had set to work to replace the lost volumes, and although that had proved impossible, he had none the less re-created a very fine library.

  Laura came across several of the novels of Miss Jane Austen, and these she thoroughly enjoyed. She thought she would start building up an English library of her own in Sittapore, ordering the books through the Company.

  When she broached the idea to Sitraj, he was pleased.

  ‘It is certainly my intention to have you teach Sivitraj English, and to understand the ways of the world beyond our narrow boundaries,’ he told her. ‘That is the way to continuing prosperity.’

  She made a list of books she would like and gave it to the Governor. She included not only the novels of Jane Austen, of Richardson, Smollett and Defoe, but also translations of the classic Greek histories of Herodotus and Thucydides and Xenophon. The Governor was delighted and promised to give the list to the factor and have the books sent out at the earliest opportunity.

  Then it was simply a matter of getting back to Sittapore as soon as possible. She made Miljah pack on Saturday morning, so that she would have nothing to do that night but enjoy herself, and that afternoon she rode with the Governor to the polo ground. Sitraj had gone on earlier for his usual pre-match practice.

  The scene was as crowded and colourful as ever, and Sitraj was soon in the thick of the action, the ferocious sweep of his mallet sending the ball racing towards his team’s goal.

  Laura spotted Guy in the crowd, with Prudence at his side. They seemed as intimate as the first time she had seen them. But he loves me, she thought triumphantly.

  She was recalled to the game by a surge of excitement from the crowd, raised her head to see Sitraj and one of the Army officers both racing for the ball, which had flown loose. So concentrated were they both that neither noticed the other until they were within a few feet of the other, then both attempted to swerve.

  It was too late, and the horses careered into each other. The shock of the impact could he heard all over the ground, even above the hubbub. Horses and riders went down, Sitraj being hurled from his saddle for a considerable distance.

  Laura found herself on her feet, both hands clasped to her throat.r />
  Elphinstone was also on his feet, but there was nothing he could do. Already stretcher bearers were hurrying forward, as it was obvious to everyone that both men were badly hurt.

  For several moments there was total silence round the enclosure, then a babble of excited sound filled the air.

  ‘I had better go down,’ Elphinstone said, and made for the gangway.

  Laura hardly heard him. She remained staring down at the knot of men and horses, for both sides had of course ceased playing and were gathered round the casualties. She watched the stretchers being lifted, and suddenly came to life, hurrying behind the Governor.

  Several people spoke to her, but she did not hear them as she stumbled down the steps and into the paddock, arriving at the same time as the stretchers. The bearers stopped when they saw her, and she gasped in horror. Elphinstone had been walking beside the stretcher, his face contorted with misery. Now he looked up, and then came forward to stand next to her, and put his arm round her shoulders.

  ‘My dear,’ he said. ‘My dear, dear girl. I am so terribly sorry.’

  No one had thought to cover Sitraj’s face. Laura gazed at the stiff features, distorted with the effort of avoiding the collision.

  ‘His neck was broken,’ Elphinstone explained. ‘I’m afraid he must have died instantly.’

  Bombay, 17 December 1827

  I am the most caddish of men, for I am feeling the utmost exhilaration and satisfaction at what is, I truly own, a most dreadful tragedy.

  Yesterday on the polo field Rajah Sitraj of Sittapore was in collision with Major Levenson of the Dragoons, and broke his neck. Levenson got off with a broken collarbone.

  Accidents are not uncommon, as one might expect, but fatalities are not frequent. The death of the rajah has set the entire Presidency by the ears.

  And this Sitraj is the scoundrel who two years ago carried off Laura Dean from under my very nose!

  I then swore never to have anything further to do with women, and if for this past year I have been dancing attendance on Prudence Partridge, this is because it has been expected of me by my colonel. Certainly I had given no thought to marriage; I am in no position to, in any event.

  Thus I was mightily bedevilled to see Miss Dean return to Bombay some three weeks ago. I once described her as beautiful; now I am at a loss for words. She returned not merely enhanced by motherhood and maturity, but as Rani of Sittapore. That is virtually the same thing as queen, even if the kingdom in question is somewhat small. But here in India even small kingdoms are likely to be as large as England!