Barbara Cleverly - The Palace Tiger

The old physician looked puzzled for a moment then replied slowly, ‘Yes, of course, I can see why you’d want to know that and perhaps it takes a fresh eye to look at the situation from that angle. I believe he had a wife but I don’t remember hearing of any offspring.’ He cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable then added, ‘Doesn’t have the reputation of being a terribly uxorious fellow, if you take my meaning. But you’d need to ask someone closer to the family than I, Sandilands. Being a medic — you know, you get out of the habit of gossiping. Sorry, old man. . I’d like to help.’ Thoughtfully he said, ‘And this means that now Udai will never see a grandchild. Pity, that. He’s quite a patriarch at heart. . they all are.’

As Joe nodded goodbye, Sir Hector, on impulse, seized him by the hand.

‘Now look here, Sandilands — you will keep in mind the fact that the ruler has a third son to lose, won’t you? It would be unbearable if anything were to happen to that bright young chap.’

Joe considered for a moment and then replied, ‘Don’t concern yourself, sir. I have a feeling that young Bahadur is safe enough. Now.’

Govind was already waiting by the door to take Joe on to his next meeting. A quick visit to his own quarters enabled him to shower and rub himself down and exchange his sweat-stained shirt and trousers for the fresh ones which had been laid out on his bed. Linen trousers, white shirt, a club tie that he could not instantly identify and a discreet blazer borrowed and adapted from Sir George’s stock, he noted. This seemed to be a formal enough occasion and in England he would have arrived on Lois’s doorstep clutching a bunch of flowers, but here? He wondered what was the custom.

‘Govind? Should I take a small gift for my hostess? What do you think?’

‘Sahib, I think Mrs Vyvyan would welcome, would even expect a small token. Not flowers perhaps as she has surrounded herself with them. .’ He thought for a moment while Joe waited expectantly for the elusive word. ‘Bounteously!’ he added, pleased with his adverb. ‘You will see! But madam does enjoy reading. And anything that comes from Home is always eagerly accepted.’ He smiled, looked calculatingly at Joe and decided to go further. ‘I believe that the sahib has amongst his luggage one or two copies of books, recent ones, by her favourite author. She would be delighted to find herself the recipient of, shall we say, Jill the Reckless by P.G. Wodehouse.’

Joe grinned. ‘Well, luckily I’ve just finished reading it. Good thought, Govind! And perhaps it should be accompanied by The Indiscretions of Archie for Mr Vyvyan?’

Privately, he wondered how many of this author’s books Govind had himself devoured.

While Joe put the finishing touches to his outfit, Govind located the books and carefully tied them up with a ribbon by which they might be carried since the dark blue dye of the covers would undoubtedly smudge if they came into contact with a hot hand, he explained. Not for the first time, Joe wondered at the courtesy and high efficiency he encountered everywhere in India and asked himself how on earth he was going to manage his affairs back home in his flat overlooking the Thames. He contrasted the stately, all-knowing Govind and his impeccable arrangements with portly Mrs Jago who twice a week rolled up her sleeves, adjusted her pinny and did battle with the smuts deposited on his rooms by the neighbouring Lots Road power station.

Catching Govind’s surreptitious glance at his watch, Joe hurried to present himself, noting that as they were a good fifteen minutes ahead of the lunch appointment, the Vyvyans’ quarters must be at some distance from his own.

‘Far to go, Govind?’ Joe asked, walking smartly down the corridor of the New Palace alongside his escort.

‘Quite far, sahib. But a pleasant walk. To the north of the Old Palace, between the palace and the lake is a house which was built many, many years ago as a retreat for the rajmata, the queen mother. It is now used as the Residency.’

They arrived at last in front of a fifteen foot high wall covered in cascades of pink and white pelargoniums, and Govind led the way through an archway into a garden which took Joe’s breath away. He grinned. ‘You said it, Govind! “Bounteous”. That’s the only word for this show! Eat your heart out, Wisley!’

A profusion of foliage and flowers, many recognizably English ones, clustered around a small but gracious Moghul-inspired dower house. A flight of marble steps led to a pillared portico and an open door at which stood Lois Vyvyan. Looking for all the world like a Staffordshire figurine, was Joe’s impression, as he took in the light afternoon dress of lilac, the trug spilling over with marguerites and dahlias that she held on her arm. Catching sight of them, she handed the trug to a servant standing by, dusted off her hands and came forward to greet Joe.

She aimed a smile at a spot a fraction over Joe’s right shoulder. ‘Welcome to the Residency, Commander.’

She dismissed Govind with a nod and indicated that Joe should install himself in one of the rattan planter’s chairs which stood on the verandah. ‘May I get you a drink? We have sherry, champagne, hock. . ‘ she said vaguely.

‘The idea of a glass of hock is suddenly appealing,’ said Joe affably and another servant was sent off to fetch the drinks tray.

‘We are well provided for, you’ll find,’ she said. ‘Anything — well, most things — one has at Home is available in Ranipur. You just have to ask. Udai is very generous. The only thing the Residency lacks, in fact,’ she smiled and arched a carefully plucked eyebrow, ‘is the Resident! Claude! He works too hard. The cry of the memsahib all over India, I know! But it’s true. Always one more document to complete, one more letter to dictate, one more petitioner to see. . He will be joining us shortly.’

‘Where does your husband do his work? Here at the Residency?’

‘No. This building is very lovely but hardly commodious. We have four reception rooms and six bedrooms and that’s quite small for India. Claude has his office in a bungalow down by the lake. A good arrangement. I would not care to have my house trampled through by all and sundry. Oh, excuse me — may I take your parcel?’ she asked, catching sight of the bundle of books.

‘You may indeed take it,’ said Joe. ‘And keep it. It’s a small gift for you and the sahib. Govind assures me that you appreciate Wodehouse.’

As he handed over the books he was struck by a sudden doubt. Had Govind got it right? Did this stiff Englishwoman have a sense of humour? But her reaction was spontaneous and certainly not a snort of disgust.

‘You are too kind! But what a treat! Oh, are you sure you can spare them?’ she said, unfastening the ribbon with eager fingers. ‘ Jill the Reckless . Oh, good! I haven’t read it.’

‘It’s very new,’ said Joe, pleased at last to feel he was living in the same world as Lois Vyvyan. And to pass the time until the arrival of the drinks, ‘I’ve just finished it. It’s the usual story of a pretty young girl who loses her fortune and has to go, penniless, across the ocean to find herself a congenial, rich man. . I think you’ll enjoy it,’ he finished hurriedly, not at all convinced by Lois’s arching eyebrows that she would.

But perhaps his doubts were a delusion as she replied in a friendly enough tone, ‘I’m sure I shall. And what have we here? For Claude? The Indiscretions of Archie ?’ For a moment he had a clear notion that if Lois were capable of a giggle she was attempting to repress one. ‘Commander, are you trying to convey a message?’

The drinks tray arrived at that moment and Lois did not wait for his answer but busied herself checking its contents.