Barbara Cleverly - The Palace Tiger

Joe took a second to work this out. ‘Third Her Highness landed you right in it!’

‘I’ll say! Then she comes swanning in wearing black like all the other British, making me look like a vaudeville act!’

‘At least you had the good sense not to wear the red nose,’ said Joe consolingly.

‘Don’t worry, Madeleine,’ said Lizzie. ‘I’ll make sure that people understand.’

Madeleine smiled her thanks but remained unplacated. ‘Have you met her yet, Joe?’

‘No, not yet.’

‘I think you should put that right. She’ll think you rude if you delay any longer, particularly chatting to me. Lizzie can take you — she’s over there with the doc.’

Shubhada was standing at the other end of the room in conversation with Sir Hector, her eyes flicking restlessly round the other guests. On seeing Joe approach she took from her bag a holder and a cigarette, and, at a word, Sir Hector ambled off to find the means of lighting it. She turned to Joe with a smile of welcome and Lizzie made them known to each other. Joe produced a lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette she fixed into the black jade holder. He was amused to see that she didn’t seem to smoke with any great enthusiasm or skill and judged that this piece of sophistication was being demonstrated for his benefit.

They exchanged a few pleasantries and he confided what had been his first impressions of the palace.

‘You must get to know the surroundings also,’ advised Shubhada. ‘The grounds are quite delightful and stretch for miles.’

Her voice was low and would have been thrilling had not Joe caught an edge of condescension in her manner. Well, what else could a policeman expect from a maharanee? He’d heard much the same tone in Queen Mary’s polite conversation — ‘So, you’re going to India, young man?’

‘I should value your opinion on my husband’s polo arrangements,’ Shubhada went on. ‘I hear you are an expert horseman and assume you play? We must arrange a game for you. If you will come down to the polo ground tomorrow morning I will present you with a little problem but I fear I will embarrass you because I will ask you to take sides.’

‘Take sides?’

‘Yes. You must come out either for me or for my husband since we are in the middle of a disagreement.’ Her easy smile told him that this was not serious. ‘Udai is planning to turn the polo ground into a golf course!’ She affected a shocked tone. ‘Hard to believe, I know, but he is seriously suggesting this. Golf is all the rage in England and he became quite skilled at it when he was last there. And, of course, the polo ground is extensive and of adequate size for a wretched golf course. You must help us decide what to do, Commander.’

This was party chatter. Joe knew she was not particularly interested in hearing his reply, she was just giving him an impression of her character, her position and her special influence with the ruler in the few minutes that were allocated to each guest at such a gathering. She could have summed it up in seconds, he thought: sophisticated, powerful, spoiled. Something needled him into refusing to turn this into a pas de deux.

‘I can solve your problem and save your marriage in a word, Your Highness,’ he said with a confident smile.

‘Oh, indeed?’

‘Golo!’

‘I beg your pardon. . I don’t understand. .’

‘That was the word. As you say, the extent of the field required is the same for both sports. Both are played with a club. Run them together! Gentlemen (or ladies) must play golf on horseback. You can call the new game “golo”. Invent a pair of trousers to play it in. . let’s call them, er, “ranipurs”! Why not? And there you are — we have the new jodhpurs! The sport will be all the go on three continents in no time at all.’

Shubhada stared at him with incomprehension. She began to edge away from him, making distancing movements and finally saying, ‘I see my husband is about to leave. He is quickly fatigued. Excuse me if I go to him, Commander.’

When she was out of earshot Lizzie snorted. ‘Scored an own golo there, I’d say, Sandilands! She rather hates you because you didn’t take her seriously. Now why didn’t you play along? Anyone would think you’d taken against 3HH?’

‘I’ll tell you something, Lizzie,’ said Joe confidentially. ‘Anyone would be right! Oh, dear! I’m not sure Sir George’s training has quite taken yet. Under all this southern English slather there’s a bolshie borderer lurking still.’

‘I’m very relieved to hear it!’ said Lizzie. ‘Look around you carefully, Joe. Look at the cast of characters around the maharaja. He’s dying. . I suppose you know that. . and his death will change everything. People will find their positions, their lives even, changed overnight. And perhaps someone is taking hold of events before the event. There’s a lot at stake, Joe.’

‘And much depends on the succession. Has Udai Singh made a statement on his decision? Dropped a hint?’

‘Nothing. Not a word. And, you know, that’s very odd. . it’s almost as though he’s waiting on events himself. Waiting for something anyway.’

Their hissed conversation was interrupted by the arrival at their side of Sir Hector solemnly bearing a candle in a golden cup. ‘I say, wasn’t Her Highness waiting for a light?’ he said. ‘Had to go about her hostess’s duties, I suppose. Young girl like that shouldn’t be smoking anyway. . ruin her throat. . It’s Sandilands, isn’t it? The detective? Look. I’d rather like to talk to you. Professional matters. . sure you understand. . Tomorrow morning be all right?’

Joe smiled. ‘Sir Hector, I’ll be delighted to put you on my list!’

The moment had arrived for Claude to cough discreetly and gather the attention of the six men and four ladies who made up the dinner party. The maharaja’s retirement to the zenana had left him to play host and Third Her Highness, now returned to the company, stood by as Claude paired the guests off and asked them to follow him through to the dining room.

The party moved through into a smaller but equally brilliant room where a massive crystal table had been laid for ten in the European style. The room was of double height and lit by candles and oil lamps and, overhead, an electric chandelier from the hand of the same designer struck glints from silver cutlery and delicate glasses. In the high ceiling, fans swished rhythmically, keeping the atmosphere, if not cool, at least tolerable. The illusion of coolness was heightened by the blue and white colours of the painted walls and the pale, shining beauty of the white eggshell stucco floor. Taking in the refreshing scene, Joe thought that if only they could have devised a way of reducing the temperature dramatically, he might have fancied himself in the heart of a glacier.

Joe noticed that Claude had offered his arm to Shubhada, perfectly correctly, as she was the highest-ranking lady and would expect to take her place at the foot of the table opposite Claude who would be seated at the head. Joe did not quite like to see the way Shubhada’s eyes had slid over the equally expressionless features of Lois Vyvyan who was assigned to the arm of Sir Hector. Did Lois resent the perpetual social downgrading she inevitably suffered, or had she come to terms with her husband’s powerful position and her own supportive but shadowy role?

Joe was thankful to be asked to take in Madeleine and hurried to clamp her trembling arm under his, sensing that, after three rapidly drunk glasses of champagne, she was hardly able to steer a straight course. As he eased her into her chair (incredibly, even the chairs appeared to be made of crystal), he glanced around the table, curious to see how the Vyvyans had managed the seemingly impossible task of seating this disparate group. He found himself between Madeleine on his left and Shubhada on his right and prepared himself for an awkward evening. His worst expectations, however, were not realized. A glance at the eloquent grey eyebrows of Sir Hector sitting opposite was enough for him to receive the message ‘Watch out! Squalls ahead!’ and the two men set out to be cheerful and garrulous. Madeleine soon sank into silence, wrapped in her own thoughts, and Shubhada, feeling no obligation to rival her or cut her down to size, ignored her completely and tailored her conversation to suit the determinedly jolly and inconsequential chatter of the men on either side of her.