Lady Helen Finds Her Song Read online

  The woman spoke, nodding and motioning for Helen to follow her through a passageway. When they reached a doorway, the servant scratched on the doorframe and, hearing a voice within, slid the door to the side. She bowed and indicated for Helen to precede her.

  Helen stepped over the threshold into an open, airy chamber with billowing soft curtains. Two women were in the room, and one rose and bowed a greeting. The other remained as she was, lounged on a long divan and propped up with pillows. Helen saw that her belly was swollen. This woman must be the queen.

  Helen stood in the doorway, uncertain of what to do. She knew the women would not understand her if she spoke, but she couldn’t very well just stand here looking at them all day. She stepped into the room, glancing back when she heard the door slide shut. “Hello,” she said, putting on a smile. She pressed a hand against her chest, feeling extremely foolish. “My name is Lady Helen.” She looked back and forth between the women.

  The lounging woman spoke to the other, who stepped forward. “Welcome, Lady Helen.”

  “Oh, wonderful. You speak English.” Helen smiled in relief.

  The woman inclined her head in acknowledgement and motioned toward the other. “This is Rani-Sanjana.”

  Helen dipped in a deep curtsy, bowing her head forward as she’d been taught when she was presented at King James’s Court.

  The Rani lowered her eyelids and tipped her head forward slightly. She motioned for the other woman to bring a chair closer. Helen sat, obeying another elegant gesture. It seemed the Rani was accustomed to giving orders with the slightest wave of her hand.

  Helen did not want to be rude and gape at the Shah’s wife, but she could not help herself. Rani-Sanjana was young—much younger than Helen would have imagined. She thought the queen could not have been older than sixteen. Her appearance reminded Helen of a doll. Her hair was woven into a braid thicker than Helen’s arm and so long Helen thought it must reach nearly to her knees. She wore a headpiece of gold chains from which dangled pearls and, in the center of her forehead, a red gemstone. Gold bangles adorned each arm. Large brown eyes painted in kohl and surrounded by thick lashes blinked from the heart-shaped face. Her mouth was small and smiled softly. Helen got the impression that if the Rani was angry, her face could just as quickly turn from gentle to fierce.

  The Rani spoke to the other woman, who listened closely before turning to Helen. “My name is Prema. I am ayah to Rani-Sanjana. She is very happy that you came to visit.”

  Prema’s accent was heavier than the Shah’s minister’s, and Helen had to listen closely to her words. Her voice rose and fell, making her sentences seem almost like she was singing. Her v’s she pronounced as w’s, causing the word visit to sound like wisit.

  “Pleased to meet you, Prema. How is it that you speak English so well?”

  “I was a servant in a British household for many years before I was brought to the palace.”

  She did not embellish, but Helen thought there must be more to the story. She did not press for details.

  The Rani spoke to Prema again, and Helen took the opportunity to study the ayah. Prema was not as beautiful as the Rani. Her teeth poked out beneath her upper lip, and she had harsh cheekbones, but her smile seemed genuine. Helen liked her right away.

  “Her Highness has never met a British woman, Lady Helen, and she wishes to ask you questions, if she may.”

  “Of course.” Helen smiled at both women.

  “Are you married?” the Rani asked through Prema.

  “No.”

  When she heard Helen’s answer, Rani-Sajana tipped her head, allowing her gaze to travel over Helen—much as her husband had done half an hour earlier.

  “You are not ugly. Engaged, then.”

  “No, I am afraid not.”

  The Rani’s eyes opened wide. “But you must be nearly twenty. Has your father not settled upon a bride-price?”

  Helen shook her head. “I have had no offers,” she said. “And the man I will marry will be my choice, not my father’s.”

  “How can you choose your own husband?”

  “I suppose by meeting different men and becoming acquainted with them to see if we are a good match.”

  “This cannot be so.” The Rani sat up on the divan and shook her head. “I have never heard of such a thing.”

  Helen darted a look at Prema, worried that she was being offensive, but the ayah did not look as though anything was wrong. “Rani-Sanjana has lived in purdah her entire life,” she explained.

  “I do not know what that means,” Helen said.

  “She has never left the women’s quarters. The only men she has ever spoken to are her brothers, her father, and now her husband. She cannot imagine what it must be like to ‘court,’ as British women do.”

  “Oh.” Helen glanced around the Rani’s rooms. They were beautiful, and through a door behind her, Helen could see a walled garden that must be a pleasure to walk through. But never to leave?

  “How long have you lived in the White Palace?” Helen asked, hoping to change the topic.

  “I arrived from Bihar fifteen months ago,” Rani-Sanjana said.

  Helen did not know where Bihar was but hoped it was not far. The Rani seemed so young to be away from her parents. Especially with her condition. Helen suspected she would want her mother near. “And do you miss your family?”

  Prema did not translate her question. “Her parents both died this past year.”

  “Oh, how terrible. I am sorry. And the Shah’s parents? Is his mother—”

  “They are both dead as well.” Prema darted a nervous look toward the Rani, who watched the exchange with narrowed eyes. “I am going to tell her you inquired about her health.”

  “Thank you.” Helen cringed inside at the reprimand in Prema’s voice. She felt such pity for the young queen, who was alone in the world, but gratitude that she had a woman like Prema to look after her.

  When the Rani heard Prema’s words, her face lit up.

  She placed a hand on her swollen belly and smiled as she spoke.

  “She says she will bear a son who will grow to be a great Shah,” Prema said.

  “Or perhaps a daughter?” Helen thought it was extremely naive for the Rani to believe that just because she wished for a son her child would not be a girl.

  Prema translated her words, and the Rani’s face clouded. Helen had been correct when she assumed the young woman was capable of producing an extremely fierce expression. She spoke quickly, and Helen could tell her words were angry.

  “A son,” Prema said simply. Her eyes pleaded with Helen not to argue.

  “A son will be wonderful. And I am sure you will be an excellent mother to him.” Helen was worried that she would feel the displeasure of the Rani, but the young woman’s face softened when she heard Prema’s words.

  Rani-Sanjana nodded her head and ran her hands gently over her belly.

  “Perhaps, Lady Helen, you may tell the Rani about your journey to the White Palace?” Prema said.

  “I would love to.”

  The tension left the air as Helen spoke of peacocks and rolling hills covered with flowers, Prema translated, and Rani-Sanjana listened to the descriptions of a world outside the palace walls, a world which she would only ever see through another’s eyes.

  Chapter 18

  Michael stared across the courtyard at the Shah, hardly able to disguise the enormous amount of disgust he felt for the man. They had removed from the Hall of Public Audience to a small patio spread with cushions and shaded by leafy trees. The setting was magnificent but the company repulsive.

  Believing none of his guests could understand him, the Shah had maintained a battery of insults and crude jokes at the expense of the British officers. Michael didn’t believe the Shah was paying the junior minister enough for the skillful way he manipulated his ruler’s words into polite compliments. The man was invaluable. Michael was tempted to reveal himself numerous times when the Shah or his diwan said something part
icularly insulting. Especially when he spoke crudely about Lady Helen.

  When the Shah had made a particularly offensive comment about the lady, Michael had nearly leapt onto the platform and delivered the mustached ruler a facer, though such a thing would undoubtedly lead to him losing his head or being fed to the tigers in the courtyard.

  The suggestion for Lady Helen to visit the women’s quarters had sent darts of panic through his veins, but he realized that, while he didn’t like the idea of her being where he could not reach her, it was preferable to her remaining where the Shah could ogle her.

  And how often had the Shah mentioned her eyes? Just hearing another man admire the feature that Michael himself so adored made his gut hot.

  The Shah’s mouth and teeth were red from chewing tobacco, and Michael could see the damage an opium addiction had wrought on the prince’s health. He knew the man was speeding himself toward an early death with the habit.

  The meeting was filled with false flattery and insincere compliments. Though Michael sensed that the Shah was intelligent, he was also petty and spoiled. It would not take more than a loss of his temper to send his armies over the hills into Calcutta. The thought was disturbing. While the smaller kingdom was no match for the British army, there would be losses on both sides. The meeting didn’t last long, and within twenty minutes the Shah left them, ordering refreshment be served to his guests. His religion forbade him to remain and eat with them.

  Glancing around, Michael could see he was not the only one to have lost his appetite. It was difficult to eat while every move was being scrutinized by intimidating guards.

  Finally, Jim rose and thanked the junior minister and the diwan for the excellent hospitality and delicious food. He sent for Helen, who, much to Michael’s relief, arrived a moment later.

  She smiled and held out her arm to show Jim a golden bangle that the Rani had apparently given her. Michael noticed that her coral necklace was gone, and he assumed she had given it in exchange. It seemed that she, at least, had enjoyed her time at the palace.

  Returning to their rooms, the group hastily made ready to depart. Thankfully they were escorted to a different gate than the one they’d entered on their arrival. Their horses, weapons, servants, and provisions awaited there.

  Lady Helen had changed into her riding habit, and she smiled and thanked the servant who assisted her to mount her horse. They started through the gate, but when they heard a shout behind them, they halted.

  Michael’s heart froze. What was the Shah up to? Had he changed his mind and decided to keep them prisoner? He moved his horse close to Lady Helen’s.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “I do not know.” Michael kept his eyes on the approaching figure.

  As the man drew near, they recognized him as the junior minister. He made his way directly to Lady Helen. “From the Shah.” He bowed and handed her a small silk purse then, bowing again, departed.

  Lady Helen watched him leave. She looked at Michael and then Jim with her brows pulled together; slowly she loosed the strings to open the purse. Turning it over, she gasped when she drew out a golden chain. The pendant hanging from it was a single jewel, nearly the size of an acorn. The gemstone was the vivid blue color of a peacock, or . . .

  Michael resisted the urge to snatch it away from her. The Shah had not kept his admiration for Lady Helen’s eyes a secret, and now he’d given her a costly jewel the precise vivid hue.

  She held it up, watching the sun play through the magnificent stone. “It is so beautiful. I cannot accept something like this.” Returning the stone to the pouch, she fished out the rolled bit of parchment from the small bag.

  From their position upon their horses, Michael and Jim both leaned closer to read the writing.

  This jewel appears pale when compared to the brilliant blue of your eyes.

  Jim jerked straight in his saddle. “Move out!” He pulled on the reins of Helen’s mount to get the horse walking. Helen looked confused but tucked the small purse into the reticule that hung from her wrist and tapped her riding crop on her horse’s flank to match Jim’s speed.

  They left White Palace at a trot, and Michael hoped they would never return.

  The group rode swiftly and silently through the valley and didn’t stop until they reached the far side of the pass.

  “I hope we never see that accursed place again,” Jim muttered to Michael. “And what does the man mean, sending my daughter a jewel like that?”

  “Let us hope he is simply being generous,” Michael said.

  “Did he seem at all generous to you?”

  “No.”

  “Helen is never to go near to that place again. Do you understand?” Jim said. His face was red, and his eye squinted in a scowl.

  “I could not agree more, General.”

  He fell back to ride near Lady Helen and listened with a smile as she described her time in the White Palace to Lieutenant Bancroft and Sergeant Carter. She had been enchanted by the palace and the queen, and Michael felt his worries dissipate as he listened.

  “The Rani is more beautiful than you can imagine. She lives in elegant rooms surrounded by silk and flowers, and she has her very own lovely gardens with fountains and tame doves.”

  “A gilded cage,” Sergeant Carter said.

  “Pardon me?”

  “She is a prisoner. She cannot leave,” Lieutenant Bancroft said.

  “No, I do not think she sees it that way. She is not unhappy.” She glanced up at both men and toward Michael, an anxious look on her face as if she was determined to make them understand. “Rani-Sanjana’s parents both died last year. I feel sorry for her. But she loves the White Palace and her husband and is so very excited to be a mother.”

  “I’ll wager she’s terrified her child will not be a son,” Lieutenant Bancroft said. “The Shah has no patience for women who bear daughters. Perhaps she forgot to mention what happened to the Shah’s other wives when they did not produce an heir.”

  Michael’s heart sank. “Lieutenant—”

  “It isn’t true,” Helen said.

  “These people are heathens, my lady. I have seen men and women cast themselves in front of a heavy cart that carried an idol, hoping to be crushed and reincarnated into a better life. Did the Rani tell you why it is that neither she nor her husband have mothers? The women were suttees, and it is the fate that pretty little queen has to look forward to.”

  “Lieutenant, that is enough.” Michael’s voice was rough with anger.

  She looked back, and he rode nearer, nosing his horse into the space between Lieutenant Bancroft and Lady Helen. He was furious that the lieutenant would tell her these things. “My lady, do not—”

  “I want to know, Captain.” She looked past him at Lieutenant Bancroft. “What is a suttee?”

  The lieutenant rubbed his hand over the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. Apparently the man realized, albeit too late, that this topic might be upsetting to a young lady. “A suttee . . . uh . . . it means she will burn alive on her husband’s funeral pyre.”

  Lady Helen’s face turned white. “I don’t believe you,” she whispered. Her eyes narrowed angrily. “Why would you say such a thing? Captain Rhodes, tell him it is not true.”

  Michael’s throat had constricted to the point that he did not know if he could breathe, let alone speak. “I am sorry, Lady Helen . . .”

  “No.” She looked between both men and turned her head to look at Sergeant Carter. She must have seen the apology in their faces, but it did not stop her lip from trembling. Urging her horse forward, she rode ahead alone.

  Michael watched her go, a mixture of anger and sorrow making his chest tight.

  “I am sorry, Captain.” Lieutenant Bancroft’s face was pulled in a grimace. “I did not think . . .”

  “That is the smartest thing you have said all day,” Michael spat out the words and rode ahead to see if he could repair the damage the lieutenant’s careless words had done.
r />   When Michael rode up next to Lady Helen, he saw tears on her cheeks, and the sight made his heart clench. “My lady . . .”

  “Why did you not tell me all this, Captain?” Her voice shook, and he could see she was close to breaking down completely. “Why did you try to convince me that India is wonderful and beautiful? I feel like I have been deceived.”

  “I did not mean to deceive you. I have only ever sought to protect you.”

  “Protect me from the truth?”

  “My lady, I—”

  “I deceived myself,” Helen said. “I did not see this place for what it truly is. I was distracted by bright silks and flowers and painted elephants. But all of it is artificial. A disguise to hide the horrible truth.” She pulled a scrap of lace from her reticule and dabbed it against her eyes. “I feel so foolish.”

  “You are not foolish at all.”

  She rode quietly for a moment. “Is it true what the lieutenant said about the other wives? Will the Shah have Rani-Sanjana killed if she does not have a son?” She turned to him, and his first instinct was to soothe away her fears and tell her nothing of the sort would ever happen. But he could not lie to her.

  “The Shah’s other wives—those who have had daughters—apparently died in childbirth. Nobody can prove it, but it is believed his displeasure is the reason for their deaths.” He blew out a breath.

  Lady Helen made a sniffling sound. Tears dripped from her eyes, and she hurried to wipe them away. “Why would he do such a horrible thing?”

  “By British law, if a local ruler fails to produce a legitimate heir, his lands are forfeit to the Crown. I imagine he feels a sense of desperation to keep his kingdom.”

  “Somebody should stop him. It is beyond horrible to imagine a person so cruel—and just because he wants a son. His lands should be forfeit to the Crown. A British ruler would never behave so cruelly.”

  “I can think of a British king who acted very much the same way as the Shah.” Michael knew his argument was ridiculous, but he wanted her to love India. He wanted her to see that even though a few terrible customs existed, they did not define this land. Exactly the way that a few poor rulers did not define England.