Flowers in the Blood (50 page)

“Yes, thank you.”

“How might I make you more comfortable?”

“We lack nothing,” I replied nervously, for he continued to hold my fingers in a tight squeeze.

“I am certain you are being polite, for there must be some little amenity that would be a welcome addition.”

I shook my head, hoping he would move on.

“Now, Winner, your charming wife is too modest. She does not understand how much pleasure it would give a newly minted maharajah to snap his fingers and have her wishes gratified.” He gave a childish pout that again reminded me of someone else. “Give me a hint. Does she have a particular flower that is her favorite? A particular color? We could have the gardens replanted to suit her. Does she miss the foods of Calcutta? I could send for a Bengali chef. Does she find the climate too hot? I could install more punkahs. There must be something I can do to make up for my inability to welcome you properly.”

Edwin gave me an anxious glance. From Amar's behavior at our wedding party, I knew he was both flamboyant and determined. The maharajah would persist until we offered a suggestion.

“Read,” I mumbled. “I like to read . . . perhaps I could borrow some books.”

Amar pulled his hand away and thumped his chest. “Of course, the little scholar!” His lisp had returned. “I had forgotten.. Tomorrow morning you must visit my library and take whatever you want.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He stepped closer to Edwin. “She will come, won't she?” He spoke like a worried child. “If she doesn't,” he said, wagging his finger, “I will send my entire library to her.” Then he whispered something in Edwin's ear before moving on.

Edwin patted my back. “That wasn't so terrible.”

“What did he say to you?”

Edwin grinned sheepishly. “Nothing.”

“Something about me.”

“No.”

“Then tell me,” I coaxed.

Seeing my worried expression, he confessed, “What he said was: 'Now let us have some fun.' “

“Of course, your highness, but I am uncertain how to help.”

“A woman can temper his—shall we say—tendency to excess better than a man.”

“But—”

She held up that authoritative hand. The enormous diamonds set into her rings caught the light, blinding me momentarily. “Friendship is the only requirement. Everything else will come with time. Mothers, even wives, bring too many complications . . .” Her voice trailed off as she caught the eye of a man in a white uniform. “Ah, the
dewan,”
she said. The old maharajah's prime minister moved toward us, and I backed away.

Dennis Clifford waved me over. “You know how to impress the right people, Mrs. Salem.”

“She is a very lovely lady, isn't she?” I offered.

“As smooth as a tigress.”

Just then Amar's wife walked by slowly with her legs wide apart and a white drapery billowing ahead of her like a Genoa sail. I realized she was enormous with child.

“Have you been introduced to Rukmini?” Dennis asked.

“Not yet.” I looked at the girl's round face and ascertained it was also swollen due to her pregnancy. Even with those changes it was apparent she had never been an attractive girl.

“You are wondering why Amar would have chosen her,” Dennis said in an uncanny echo of my thoughts. “She is from the Kilimanoor family, which regularly infuses the royal house with their bloodlines. The point is that in Travancore, the
woman
selects her mate, even when she marries someone in line for the musnud.”

“Do you mean she was able to pick a future rajah and he had to accept her?”

“The process is more complicated than that. Family members do most of the choosing, although she decided on him many years ago, when his brothers were alive and she did not expect to become the wife of a maharajah.”

“Edwin attended their wedding only last year. By then she had to know Amar was next in line.”

“The point is that she hardly matters. She will never be maharani. Her sons will never rule. Her husband may consort with anyone he chooses. The poor girl is really a nonentity.”

“I would like to meet her. May I approach her? Or will she come up to us?”

“We can do nothing without an introduction from her husband, nor can she.”

“What if Amar does not choose to have us meet?”

“Then you shall not meet.” The sternness of his tone surprised me.

His eyes roamed the room before he continued, “May I speak frankly, Mrs. Salem?”

“Of course.”

“Nobody would have taken notice of your residence at the Orchid House if Amar had remained a prince. Now many suspicions have arisen. 'Who are these Jews from Cochin?' they ask. 'How will they influence the maharajah?' If your husband offers advice or opinions, they will affect Amar's appraisal of an issue. People who desire to predispose Amar will seek out Edwin and try to cultivate him as a way of getting to the maharajah.”

“What can we do about that?”

“Be cautious.” He gave me a penetrating stare. “When you were in Quilon, you made this seem to be a post-wedding journey of a temporary nature. Now I understand you may be settling in Trivandrum. Is that true?”

The change from pleasant advice-giving to direct interrogation put me on edge. I struggled to give a noncommittal reply. “My husband wants to extend his friendship in this difficult time.”

The resident did not press me. He slipped his right hand into his pocket and rested his weight on that foot. “The esteem the maharajah has bestowed upon Edwin impresses me. Others must have noticed as well. I have the sense that much of his generosity has been aimed in your direction.”

“I am very grateful for his favors.”

“And how will you express that gratitude?” he asked in a slippery voice that caused the skin on the back of my neck to crawl.

I glanced around, hoping someone would catch my eye and come over, but no savior appeared. “The maharajah is Edwin's friend. I shall follow my husband's lead.”

“Well said, my dear Mrs. Salem. You are a clever young woman. But remember this: cleverness is not needed if caution prevails.”

His words hit me with the force of a physical blow. My discomfort with Amar, which I had felt from the first moments of our meeting in Cochin, had been put into words by an unbiased party. More than ever I felt I had to arrange matters so that we would not dally in Travancore. How, though, could I convince Edwin to leave?

 

“My library contains over ten thousand volumes. Among them you might find something to suit your fancy,” the maharajah said. “During my reign I hope to triple the collection.”

We were standing in a rotunda lined with shelves from the floor to the top of its glass dome, which spilled a beam of light into the stone chamber. The atmosphere favored the maharajah, who seemed younger and more approachable—until he spoke again.

“Here is one place you can be Winner and I can be Lover-boy again.” Amar winked at me. “Don't you agree?”

“To be truthful, I can't imagine Edwin ever calling you that,” I said, forcing myself to underline the statement with a laugh. Instead of becoming more at ease in the maharajah's company, I was finding his mannerisms increasingly disconcerting.

“Now, why ever not?” He batted his thick lashes like a bashful boy. “Am I so ill-suited to my nickname?”

Edwin rescued me. “My wife has never seen you relaxing in your private quarters. Since our arrival we have attended more state occasions than most people do in a lifetime.”

Amar walked toward me, then halted a few inches shy of my folded arms. “I never dreamed of becoming a ruler,” he said, his words becoming more jumbled as he continued. “Yet here I am. The chosen one. I must accept my fate. I must meet every obligation.” His hands fell to his sides in a dramatic gesture. “Yet I
must
retain some of my own life—something purely personal—or I shall never be able to fulfill my duties with enthusiasm.” He gave us an imploring look, like that of an animal who wishes to be rescued from a trap. “Winner understands, don't you?”

When Edwin nodded, Amar focused on me. “And you will try to, won't you?” He tilted his head provocatively.

I could think of no reply, for I was trying to determine exactly what it was about his appearance that had been disturbing me. Something about his long, curling eyelashes that looked inappropriate on a man, and his jutting lower lip made my stomach churn.

“Ah!” Amar jerked his neck upright. “Now I understand the problem. She feels left out, and why shouldn't she? What is the first thing we would do when someone new came into school? We would give him a nickname! I admit I have never felt comfortable addressing your wife as Dinah or Mrs. Salem. So what shall it be?” He shot a glance at Edwin.

“I call her 'darling.' “ He chuckled.

“That will never do,” Amar groaned. “The point is to make her feel like one of the boys.”

“What do you suggest?” Edwin asked.

“Let’s see . . . Dinah . . . Diana . . . the huntress . . . hunter . . . hunt . . . no, I do not care for any of those. What about something to do with Sassoon? Nice sounds to that one, don't you think? Sasso, Sooner, Sassy . . . Sassy! Ah, that's not bad. Quite suitable even. A sassy person says what she thinks. A sassy woman is both spirited and smart.”

“A sassy person talks back, and that certainly suits my wife.”

“Well . . .” As Amar waited for my reaction, I tried to quell the confusion I felt. I welcomed the maharajah's effort to make me feel more at ease in his presence, but his vigorous application of his point seemed ludicrous. “Do you object?”

I found the name insulting, but dared not admit it. “I suppose not. . .”

“Then that settles it. Winner, Sassy, and—”

“Come now, Lover, have your feet turned cold?” Edwin gibed.

“We could just use the initials L. B.,” I offered hesitantly.

“Brilliant solution, Sassy.” Amar touched his turban in a salute. “A jewel, your most treasured asset, a woman fit to rule! I wish she was mine,” he said in a tinny voice, then cleared his throat. “However, so long as she is yours, that is the next best thing. Now, Sassy, have you found something to read?”

“Do you have
Lorna Doone?”
I asked in a burst of nostalgia, as well as a desire to stump him.

“I have no recollection of anything past the scientific sections. Why don't I send for Professor P.? He has a system to locate everything in the collection. Until then, allow me to show you my private chambers. I would like to ask your opinion about them.”

We followed the maharajah through several winding passages that led into courtyards filled with pools of water: some ovals, others hexagonal honeycombs. When we reached a series of three circles looped together with bridges as part of the linked circumferences, Amar gestured extravagantly. “This would be a lovely place to bathe if the water was not hotter than the air. Someday I will bring in tubs of ice to cool them. Wouldn't that be amusing?”

Edwin rolled his eyes at me.

A gate with a wrought-iron pattern of two peacocks opened before us. The maharajah's guards saluted him by lifting ceremonial silver spears. In this inner garden, we heard the soothing pulse of water trickling down stone steps. Just beyond, we entered apartments inlaid with blue-and-white tiles in so many patterns and variations the eye would never tire, and yet from a distance they formed a harmonious whole. In the center of the room, a mattress covered with a blue silk carpet was tucked under a sky-blue canopy held up by silver poles.

“This is the sitting room, but you see the difficulty, don't you?”

“It is gorgeous,” I said as I surveyed the silver tables, silver spittoons, and a giant hookah encrusted with silver and sapphires.

“Ah, but where in this sitting room does one
sit?”
Amar gestured to the bed. “Only the ruler may lounge, the others must stand.” He bounced onto the mattress and leaned back on his arm. “Would you come sit beside me, Sassy?”

I was uncertain whether this was a test or an order. “I see your point, sir.”

“What's the matter?” He sulked. “Are you angry with your friend L.B.?”

“Don't forget I know what the initials stand for!” I giggled to defuse his annoyance.

“Why am I starting to worry that your nickname was a mistake on my part?” He sighed loudly. “Anyhow, I want to do away with all this.” Sweeping his hand in dismissal, he knocked the hookah over onto the bed.

Edwin ran over and righted it. “What do you mean?”

“I want to replace this array with furnishings from the palaces of the kings and queens of Europe.”

“Do you want to remodel this room or your entire apartments?” I speculated.

“The whole palace, and perhaps some of the other dwellings. My mother is in agreement. Her home shall be one of the first to be renovated, and then the first princess and her sons will need to live in new surroundings to prepare them for their future. The Orchid House and other dependencies must be brought in line. By the time I am finished, Travancore will be the most stylish state on the subcontinent. What do you think?”

Edwin had a peculiar glazed expression, so I filled in. “There are many beautiful aspects to what is here. Surely you will not dispose of the treasures you possess.”