Part 19 (1/2)
”I knew they would try something like this,” Macnaghten muttered to Byrne. ”I was sure they would accuse us of taking the child.”
Major Byrne gave a short honk, only partially disguised as a cough. ”Do you suppose, William,” he said behind his hand, ”that the old man is doing this deliberately, to delay the treaty signing? He knows the pa.s.ses will freeze soon. Is he trying to make us fail in our campaign?”
Macnaghten's foot, not quite hidden beneath his chair, began to twitch. ”How, if I may ask, Faqeer Sahib,” he inquired courteously, ”have you come to believe the child was brought here?”
The Faqeer bent conspiratorially forward. ”Ah,” he replied, beaming, ”this is just the place to have brought him! Whoever stole the child would have asked himself two questions. Question one is: which of the two camps is a safer hiding place for the little hostage? The answer is obvious. This is the safer camp, for here people would be less likely to recognize the child. Furthermore,” he added, waving a hand toward the red wall, ”what better hiding place could there be within this camp than the Governor-General's own compound?”
Macnaghten's fingers tightened on the arms of his chair.
”Question two,” the Faqeer went on serenely, ”is: what would happen if the child were discovered?” He lifted his shoulders, his palms raised. ”Clearly, if the child were found in this camp, he, the real real child thief, would not be blamed. No, indeed. If the baby were found in this camp, his disappearance would be blamed on the Supreme Government of India, the British Government!” child thief, would not be blamed. No, indeed. If the baby were found in this camp, his disappearance would be blamed on the Supreme Government of India, the British Government!”
Putting back his head, he smiled, his eyes closed, signaling perfect happiness. ”And so, we come at midnight to catch this child thief. After that, there will be nothing, no, nothing at all, to prevent our immediately signing the treaty.”
His speech delivered, he opened his eyes and sat back in his chair as the political secretary, smiling at last, fumbled for the appropriate compliments.
After many politenesses, Faqeer Azizuddin departed down the avenue on his elephant, surrounded by his escort. Once out of sight of Macnaghten's tent, however, he called a halt and signaled to his mounted escort until one of them, an ox of a man from Mianwali, detached himself from the group and rode up.
The Faqeer leaned from his howdah. ”You are to take a message, Mirza,” he instructed, ”to a man called Shafiuddin. I am told his tent is in that direction.” He pointed to the end of the avenue and the British horse lines. The man nodded. ”The message is this,” the Faqeer continued, ”'There is to be a rice test in the red compound tonight, at midnight.' You must say this message comes from me. Do you understand, Mirza?”
The man nodded again, kicked his horse, and rode away.
THEY had found a thorn bush half a mile from camp and dismounted behind it. While Mariana watched, Fitzgerald took off his coat and spread it on the ground. ”Mariana,” he said as she sat down, impatient to hear why he had arranged this daring rendezvous. ”There is something I must say to you.”
She felt herself fius.h.i.+ng. He was about to ask her to wait for him in Calcutta. ”And I have something to tell you, too,” she offered conspiratorially, imagining his response when she told him the Maharajah's baby hostage was at that very moment in her tent.
It was only after he sat beside her that she saw the expression on his face. ”What is it?” she breathed, as an unpleasant feeling formed in her stomach.
The square, freckled hands that had once gripped her shoulders lay on his knees. He made no move to touch her. ”I cannot see you again, Mariana.”
”But Harry,” she stammered, ”we-”
He shook his head and finally offered her his clear green gaze. ”I have thought about it ever since I walked you home from dinner. After we arrive at Lah.o.r.e, Lord Auckland will sign the treaty. I will leave immediately afterward. If I am not killed fighting in Afghanistan, I will be sent to an army post somewhere in Bengal. I doubt we will meet again.”
”But why?” She bent toward him, her heart aching, willing him to look at her, to fight for them both, to ask her to marry him. ”I can wait for you in Calcutta. You can send for me after you return. Why Why should we not meet again?” should we not meet again?”
He s.h.i.+fted his body, moving away from her. ”Please, Mariana, this is so difficult.” He sighed. ”I will never get permission to marry you, after the horrible things people have said. And if I did, I could never make you happy. You must find someone else.”
”Harry, I can't bear this. You did nothing wrong. I would do anything-”
”And you will find someone, Mariana.” Before she could touch him, he stood. ”You will find yourself a nice husband before your year is over.” He gave her his crooked smile. ”It doesn't have to be Marks, you know.”
SHADING her eyes from the setting sun, Mariana looked from face to face among the group seated in front of Miss Emily's tent.
Why must she be civil to Lieutenant Marks, when she wanted so desperately to be alone? How could she plan her campaign to win Fitzgerald back if she must attend to this simpering fool?
”I quite agree, Lieutenant Marks,” Miss Emily was saying. ”One must never forget the chasm that lies between our two races.”
Miss f.a.n.n.y reached for her winegla.s.s. ”But why should an Englishwoman ever ever spend more than a few moments with a native? The only ones we see, after all, are the servants.” spend more than a few moments with a native? The only ones we see, after all, are the servants.”
”But Miss f.a.n.n.y,” Mariana offered, scarcely covering her impatience, ”surely you have met the wives of Maharajahs. Did you not like them?” She kept her gaze on Miss f.a.n.n.y, aware that Marks was trying to catch her eye.
Miss Emily opened her fan with a snap. ”f.a.n.n.y and I,” she countered, ”have seen a dozen Maharanis, and have found them hopelessly ignorant. Of course they are shut away all the time, poor creatures, with no one to talk to, but still, I cannot imagine spending more than a few moments together with such people.”
”I agree entirely,” purred Lieutenant Marks from his folding chair. A recent haircut made his ears stand out even more than usual. ”In my opinion an Englishwoman should not show interest in any any native, not even a native queen.” native, not even a native queen.”
”But if we take no interest in them,” Mariana asked tightly, ”how will we learn anything about India anything about India?”
Miss f.a.n.n.y made a small disapproving sound.
Marks's face creased into a lofty smile. ”Ah, but Miss Givens, one cannot take an interest in the natives without becoming entangled in their affairs. It is uncanny,” he added, nodding to Miss Emily. ”Each time someone I know has shown the slightest concern for a native, the native in question has instantly overstepped the bounds of propriety and become unpleasantly familiar, even intimate.” He fiuttered a damp-looking hand. ”One feels quite disgusted.”
”And do you know of many many such stories?” such stories?”
Loathing had crept into Mariana's voice. Miss Emily glared across at her and closed her fan with another snap. ”Of course, Lieutenant,” she interposed, ”no one in his right mind would-”
”Look!”
Stooped with apparent pain, Mr. Macnaghten approached from the direction of the dining tent, one hand pressed to his midriff. His face was ghastly.
”Lieutenant,” breathed Miss Emily.
Marks sprang to his feet, took the secretary's arm, and guided him to a chair.
”My dear Mr. Macnaghten,” said Miss Emily, leaning from her seat, a hand outstretched, ”may I call Dr. Drummond?”
Macnaghten took a ragged breath. ”No, thank you very much, Miss Emily. It is only dyspepsia. I shall be perfectly well by the evening. Meeting with Faqeer Azizuddin often has this effect on me.”
Lieutenant Marks bowed to the Eden sisters, then to Macnaghten. ”I beg your pardon for a hasty departure, but I must return to my men.” He bowed to Mariana. ”May I see you to your tent, Miss Givens?”
”No, thank you very much, Lieutenant,” she replied stiffiy. ”I shall stay here for now.”
AN hour later, not wis.h.i.+ng to argue with her teacher, she spoke firmly. ”I have asked you to see me at this unusual time, Muns.h.i.+ Sahib, because I have decided not to take Saboor to Lah.o.r.e tonight.”
Her teacher stood before her, the sunlight casting his shadow past the chair where she sat. In her lap, the baby fiapped his arms as if trying to fiy.
”I see no reason,” Mariana continued, ”why Saboor cannot remain with me until we reach Lah.o.r.e. After all, we will be there tomorrow. Once the camp is settled, I can return him easily to his family, since they live in the walled city.” She nodded decisively to indicate that the subject was closed. How could she give Saboor up today, of all days, when everything was going so wretchedly?
But her muns.h.i.+ did not let the subject drop. ”Yesterday afternoon, Bibi,” he said evenly, ”you seemed delighted to learn that Yar Mohammad had arranged for you to take Saboor to his grandfather tonight. As I remember, you were very much afraid of his being discovered in your tent.”
”I may have been frightened then,” she countered firmly, while Saboor bounced up and down on her knees, ”but I now see that I cannot travel all that distance alone at night without an escort.”
Saboor clambered down from her lap, smartly dressed in a new regimental uniform of white pajamas and a tiny red coat with cross-belts. He tottered on his feet, smiling broadly at the muns.h.i.+, then sat down on the fioor with a thump.
”And how can I take instructions from Yar Mohammad?” Mariana added. ”I am an Englishwoman. He is a native groom He is a native groom.”
”A native groom,” her teacher reminded her gently, ”who is willing to risk his life to escort you and Saboor to safety.”
”Besides, Muns.h.i.+ Sahib,” she said, a little too loudly, as Saboor got up and hurried unsteadily toward Dittoo, ”no one will recognize Saboor now that Dittoo's friend has made him new clothes.”