The Splendor Of Silence (42 page)

"I am betrothed to Jai," she said.

"That is not enough of an answer," Sam said. He lifted her chin so that he could look into her eyes and rubbed the line of her jaw with his thumbs. His hands then traveled down her slender neck, twirled in the circle of her loop earrings, tucked under the sliver of her blouse that stretched tight across her shoulders. Then he pulled her close so that he could touch her back, his fingers sliding under the three tenuous strings that held her blouse together. His fingertips were rough against her skin and Mila shivered. She sighed and let her head fall against Sam's chest, listening to the galloping beat of his heart. Her arms lay by her side, and she felt them rise against her will to clasp together around his waist.

"Sam."

"What are your other names?"
,
"What?"

He buried his face in her hair and said, his voice reverberating near her ear, "You told me you had other names when we first met. I want to know what they are, so that I can choose what to call you."

"Ayesha Olivia Milana," she said, breathing in the clean scent of his skin.

"Why?"

"Papa," she replied briefly. And even the remembrance of her father did not make her pull out of Sam's arms. "He wanted us to have Muslim, Christian, and Hindu names."

"What does Milana mean?"

At that moment, the clean and sharp toot of a limousine's horn sounded in the front driveway. It cut through Mila and filled her with an immeasurable shame. What was it about Sam Hawthorne that made her behave like this? Sam's hold upon her had loosened when he too heard the horn and now she stood in the circle of his arms but nowhere did their skins touch.

She did not move away, not immediately, but when she spoke it was with a firmness that matched the rigidity of her body. "I love Jai," she said.

Sam stepped back.

"I love Jai," she repeated.

She turned to leave and his voice stopped her steps once with this: "I will have a daughter and call her Olivia." The second time, just as she was entering her room, he said, "I want to give her three names too."

Because Jai's limousine had called for her precisely ten minutes before the sun sank beyond the gaze of Rudrakot, it was well dark by the rime it drew up in front of one of his palaces in the fort. The drive took thirty-five minutes. The early part, when they were in the Civil Lines, then the cantonment area, and especially the outskirts of the Lal Bazaar had been slow as the car wended through the masses of traffic--cows, bicyclists, a few hens clucking on the road, an army jeep or two, and pedestrians. The Daimler had the Rudrakot arms painted on its front two doors and on the boot behind and passed quietly through the rush as the crowds recognized their prince's car and parted to give them way. Once they reached the fort, it was relatively smooth and easy even though the streets were narrow, at times barely three feet on either side of the enormous gleaming vehicle, and thronging with the tightly knit, three-story buildings of everyone and anyone who had either worked for the royal family, or known the royal family, or were in some fashion related to them. And this relationship, this care of past retainers and present ones, went back too many generations for most of the fort's lower occupants to even recall. This was part of the responsibility of kingship. When the car went by with Mila sitting in the backseat, the people waved to her from their windows, shouted with joy, or in one instance showered her with rose petals and the petals came floating in to settle on her lap through the open roof of the Daimler. She was going to be Second Her Highness, she was their king's chosen wife; in her was vested a large share of their well-being.

Mila gathered the rose petals that had fallen on her sari and spread them out on the empty seat next to her. At the very last minute, as she stood by the open door of the limousine, its driver patiently holding it ajar for her, Ashok had run down the stairs, half dressed in his shirt and his undershorts, his tie still awry, and announced, "I'm going for a drink t
o t
he Victoria with Captain Hawthorne. Papa says you are to go alone. He will see you later in the evening."

"Where is Papa?" Mila asked, suddenly feeling bereft that Ashok would not accompany her. She had not seen Raman since he had returned from Nodi, even though he had been home for two hours by the time they had come back from Chetak's tomb. But their day had been spent apart, and now, even in this chunk of the evening, she would not see him or be with Ashok. "Come with me, Ashok," she said, fiercely jealous. Why should he spend time with Sam when she could not?

"No," he shouted, and opened his mouth in a big laugh. "Papa says I can have my first drink at the Victoria, as long as I drink it with Sam. You go practice your wiles on Jai." And then he turned and bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Ashok had been drinking gimlets, pink champagnes, cocktails, and beer for the past two years now and had a finely developed palate for all of these, but this was his first public sanction from his father and so he was thrilled.

Mila got into the car slowly, both upset with Ashok and worried about him because he had lost any sense of calmness since their time at the Victoria Club mela. Every emotion had been stretched finely; at one time he was despondent, at another gleeful, at another, just before they slept at Chetak's tomb, he had clutched her hand so rightly as to leave the marks of his nails on her wrists. And it all stemmed from Vimal Kumar coming back into their lives. She had heard from many people, the maids in the house, her father, even Ashok, that Vimal was abundantly blessed with beauty and that just gazing upon him was akin to being filled with amric, the drink of the Gods. But he did not move Mila to any such devotion. He was handsome, she thought, but with the insides of a snake and, somehow, just as deadly. She looked back toward the house as they drove away and a longing beset her despite her best intentions. Her hands shook and she squeezed her palms together in her lap until the blood stanched and her fingers turned white. She closed her eyes, not seeing anything as they passed, and her first intimation that they were within the walls of the fort was the soft touch of the fragrant rose petals upon her hands. At that, Mila opened her eyes, amassed the petals, put them away, and became, in her mind and within herself, firmly, the woman who was going to marry Jai. He was waiting for her at the top of the wide flight of stairs leading to the Neel Nivas, the Blue Palace. Everything was blue here, even the marble outer stairs--which curved gently around the front with marble balustrades and marble lions on two ends--had a brush of sea teal swirled in the stone. As the car drove up, Mila watched Jai. His stance was overly casual, legs apart, arms hanging loosely by his side, only betrayed by a sudden tremor that made him knead his fingers into a fist every now and then. He waited until the very last minute, until the limousine had drawn up in front of him, and then, before the chauffeur had turned the handle of the door, Jai came bounding down the stairs to open the door for Mila. She gave him her hand, and impulsively, even before she could get out, he put it to his mouth for a kiss. "Come, my dear," he said, bending to her ear. "Or I am in danger of making a stupid exhibition of myself in front of the servants."

But the servants were everywhere of course--lined in a row in their sky-blue-and-silver uniforms at each pillar, the same colors the Rudrakot Lancers bore; along the corridor leading to the outdoor pool; behind the ferns and the potted plants; at doorways; and finally, arranged like toy soldiers, around the swimming pool. And all along the palace, the lights had been dimmed, so Mila sensed rather than saw the servants. They were very well trained, and betrayed their presence only by a mild cough here, covered up by a hand, or an intake of breath as she passed.

Jai was wearing white too.

Later in the night, when he sat at his gaddi, his throne, in anticipation of the offerings at the White Durbar, he would don his brocade sherwcuti, a long, fitted coat that extended below his knees. It was made of a hand-embroidered damask, diaphanous silver strands threaded into the fabric by hand, and like Mila's sari, it too had tiny glittering stones sewn onto the cloth everywhere. And while Mila's sari was sewn with crystals, Jai's she, wani was made of the purest silk and adorned with diamonds, each perfectly faceted to capture the light of the moon and Ring it back onto the audience watching so that it would seem as if he was clad in moonlight.

Now all Jai wore was a pair of riding pants, a white cotton shirt, and white calfskin boots on his feet. This was what he wore all the time, and it had almost become a uniform for him unless he dressed up for state occasions like the White Durbar or to lead a parade of his Lancers.

As they passed through the corridors, the lights around them dimmed further, until they went out completely and at Jai's nod, someone, somewhere threw a switch and millions of little blue lights came on. Mil
a s
topped to catch her breath at the sudden beauty within the palace. The lights went everywhere, strung over the ceiling, around the pillars, along the floor, festooning the plants until it looked as though they were embedded in the very air. And when she stepped out into the marble and sandstone verandah surrounding the pool, it was as though the lights had floated upward and turned themselves into the night sky. There was no moon yet, so all that draped over them was this lovely, icy blue light that cooled her skin. Mila had her arm through Jai's and now she slipped it out to grasp his hand. They stood together just beyond the cusped arches of the verandah, bathed in ultramarine from the heavens above and around.

"Do you like it?" Jai asked.

"Yes," Mila replied. "Thank you ... for everything."

"No." He began to walk toward the table set on one corner beyond the pool's edge. Mila saw that even the lights in the pool had been covered with a light blue film, so it seemed as though the water had a glowing life of its own. "I am the one blessed"--he paused and laughed self-consciously--"happy that you are here."

He pulled out a chair for Mila at the table and waved the servants away. They turned and marched out in a single file, their feet barely making a sound on the marble paving. "You are here, are you not, Mila?" Jai asked.

"Yes," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I do not want to be anywhere but by your side."

Something, some heaviness and languor, fell from him when she said those words and all of a sudden he was young and youthful again. His teeth flashed in a smile and he said, "How lovely of your Captain Hawthorne to take Ashok to the Victoria Club; I wonder if your father realizes that his youngest son is already a sot."

"I think he does," Mila said, smiling. "There is very little Papa does not know about us, well, about Ashok anyway. Which is probably why he is officially introducing him to drink; it will keep Ashok from sneaking shots of Papa's whiskey. And that sot, as you call him, is going to be your brother-in-law."

Jai groaned. "I suppose I asked for this, didn't I?"

She nodded and thought that she was in love with Jai, it was difficult not to be so with the man who sat opposite her, his gaze so adoring, his consideration enormous, his heart so generous. In that moment, Mila was happy, content. Here was her future, in Jai, with him in these palaces, a
s h
is wife and his companion. She looked around in the blue light as the servants materialized with a tray of pakoras and three chutneys to accompany it. The pakoras were light and airy, constructed of chopped red onions thinly covered with a chickpea-flour paste spiced with a dash of cumin, coriander, and amchur. The flavor exploded in her mouth.

"I'm hungry," she said to Jai.

"Eat then, my darling. All you want is yours, all that I have"--and here he flung his arms out--"is yours."

The meal was delicious, the naans flaky and crisp, the chicken falling off the bone at her touch, the potatoes firm and yet tender, simmered in a tomato gravy, covered in silver foil. There were wines and cocktails to accompany the dinner. Mila and Jai talked for a very long while in the blurred azure light. Until then, all Mila had known about Jai was what Papa had said of him, or what he had said himself, but always with listening ears around. This was their very first private conversation and Ashok's being called away was a blessing.

A shooting star streaked across the sky as Mila lay back in her chair. "Do you know when you want to marry me?" Jai asked softly. "Whenever you want," she replied.

He laughed. "If it was only my decision I want you to also have a say."

She turned to look at him. He had pulled his chair near hers and they sat side by side, their backs to the pool and the palace verandah. The moon had begun to rise now and its silver glow cut a swath through the light of the stars. They sat just beyond the parapet, their feet up on the wall. If Mila stood and glanced over the low wall surrounding the pool's verandah, she would look down upon the glittering lights of the town of Rudrakot. But here, just away from those lights, faced away from the servants in the background, they were still in the embrace of just the night. She said then, "I do not keep purdah, Jai."

He nodded. "I know. I would not expect you to. Sheela"--his first wife's name came out hesitantly--"chooses the life, she knows little else; she was in her father's fenana too, not allowed to step outside. But you must understand that perhaps your life will change." When she began to frown, he said, "Only as much as a woman's life changes when she marries. I will do everything I can to make this easy."