Murder On A Summer's Day Part 43

He led me to a bright room, perhaps the brightest the house had to offer. It was a music room, with chintz-covered chairs and sofas. I waited there until Indira arrived moments later.

She glided into the room, looking quite beautiful in a milky sari with barely a hint of silver. I thought of the last time I saw her, when she had been beside herself with worry and grief.

'Please sit down, Mrs Shackleton.'

'Your highness.'

'It will be just the two of us for lunch. The d.u.c.h.ess is with my mother-in-law. I wanted the opportunity to thank you for everything you did.'

'I am glad to see you looking a little better.'

'You must have thought me quite mad when I asked you to take Rajendra to safety.'

'Not at all. Your instincts were right.'

She touched her perfect hair. No doubt some hairdresser had just been at work. How must it feel, I wondered, to be waited on, hand, foot and hair. I remembered Lydia Metcalfe, insisting that she preferred to 'do' for herself, without the attendance of servants she saw as enemies.

'You were the only person I could speak to at the time, and I will remember that, and that you saved the life of my child.'

'I am glad to have been of service. What will you do now?'

'We travel to London. No one with any sense would sail for India in August, but in September we will return.'

It occurred to me that Lydia Metcalfe had deliberately set off early, to be in Gattiawan first.

'When the time is propitious.'

She smiled. 'I think you do not believe in astrology.'

'I would not dismiss it. Jaya's mother must have had high hopes after his birth when she had his horoscope cast.'

'Yes. It will be a blow to her that she will never see her son again.'

'Do you have news of him?'

'Your government is still deciding where to send him. I believe he is now on Lindisfarne.'

'Holy Island.' Someone in government had a sense of humour.

'The high tide creates a natural curfew. I do not know where he will live out his days.'

'Any other man would face the death penalty for what he did.'

'And for what he tried to do. His attempt on my child's life was treason. Mr Chana tells me there is talk of sending him to the Isle of Man, or Tasmania. Jaya hates the sea.'

'I don't understand how you can be so calm about this.'

'Having failed, Jaya would gladly have died a martyr to his cause. The worst punishment will be exile from India, from Gattiawan, constantly watched, forever cursing his failure. I understand that he has begun drinking rather heavily. I suppose his minders encourage that. It will be a living death for him, and I am glad. Yet strange as it seems, I miss him. Or, rather, I miss the person I thought he was.'

Before I had time to reply, the footman tapped on the door and announced that luncheon would be served.

We stayed where we were for another moment.

'And the woman? Is there news of her?'

'She is under surveillance, and on a ship to India.'

'Going to collect her booty no doubt. It puzzles me that Jaya can be dealt with and prevented from travelling, yet a woman like that is free to maraud where she pleases.'

When would she speak of the diamond, I wondered?

I did not have long to wait. She smoothed her sari as we rose to go to the dining room. 'I had hoped you would retrieve the diamond. Do you think she has hidden it?'

'I don't know. I did wonder whether Jaya may have acquired it, through Ijahar.'

'I believe Ijahar would have been persuaded to confess, if that were the case.' Her voice was icy. 'She has it, Mrs Shackleton. I want it back, for my state, for my son, for India. Please do not give up.'

'I am not sure what else I can do.'

'Keep the diamond in your thoughts. Eventually, she will give herself away.'

We lunched on venison. Not knowing how long a deer must be hung, and how long after that it stays 'good', I wondered whether I might be biting into the white doe. This idea did nothing for my appet.i.te, but I kept the thought to myself, and tried not to picture the doe so ingloriously trussed in Stanks's barn.

To provide light conversation, I told Indira that today civic officials from Bradford Corporation would be driven three miles through a tunnel, four hundred feet below ground, to place the last brick in a sewage system extension and declare it open.

'How extraordinary! I have never heard of anyone driving underground.'

A little voice came from under the table. 'I want to go!'

'Rajendra?' We looked under the table. There he sat, his eyes full of mischief. He would be a trickster and a practical joker, like his father.

'Come out of there. How rude!'

But we smiled.

'May I? I should like to drive through a tunnel.'

Indira and I exchanged a look.

Seeing his mother's hesitation, he seized the moment. 'I have never seen a car go in a tunnel. Please let me go.'

'What time does this ceremony take place?'

'This afternoon at three o'clock.'

'Will it be safe?'

'It will be safe to watch. We would not be allowed in the tunnel. That will be for the lord mayor and dignitaries.'

For the first time, Indira's eyes lit with amus.e.m.e.nt at the thought that Bradford aldermen would take precedence over Indian royalty.

'I could not possibly go. We would be seen. It would not do.' She took her boy's hand.

The little boy's eyes shone. I felt sorry for him, cooped up here, with no one of his own age to play with.

'You could ride with me, and view the event from a distance. There'll be so many spectators that we would not be spotted.'

'Very well, you shall go, and take my little crown prince.'

Rajendra tugged at his mother's arm. 'You come too.'

She hesitated. 'All right, but it is just between us, and we shall be incognito.'

The likelihood of Indira and Rajendra arriving incognito at Esholt Sewage Works would be as likely an event as my finding the Gattiawan diamond.

Half an hour later, we left by the side door, Indira in a Paris costume and hat with veil, Rajendra looking the perfect English boy in blazer, shorts and cap.

I was right about our failure to remain incognito. Indira had confided in the d.u.c.h.ess.

When we arrived, we were met by a city official, an engineer, and Benjamin Jowett. We watched with some trepidation as the engineer led Rajendra by the hand to inspect the tunnels and take him for a ride to Esholt and back.

Mr Jowett rea.s.sured us. 'He will love it. I've done the trial run. An unforgettable experience. The exhausts make the most extraordinary noise, and the only illumination is from the head lamps. He will come out the other side singing that he wants to be an engineer.'

Indira bit her lip. 'What have I done, bringing him here?'

'He will enjoy it, your highness, and remember it forever.' Jowett produced a form from his inside pocket. 'Mrs Shackleton, I don't believe we have the pleasure of your membership in the Jowett club.'

It was December when I heard from James again. His letter lay on the hall stand. I dropped my bags of Christmas shopping and tore into it. We were hungry for news and wondered when, if ever, he planned to come home.

Dear Kate Excuse my tardiness in writing to you. During the voyage, I was fit for nothing, keeping to my bunk as the vessel rolled. As we rounded the Cape, waves threatened to smash my porthole and engulf the cabin. The ship creaked, groaned and was ready to surrender. Indeed, seawater flooded my cabin to several inches, but I was so sick I cared not. I could keep nothing down, and now my clothes hang on me in a way that would shame a scarecrow. I scarcely have memories of the voyage, only the little pieces of information imparted to me by my steward who valiantly supplied sago, broth, arrowroot and tales of flying fish.

Now, after the most extraordinary journey by train and elephant, here I am in Gattiawan, having agreed to stay until the family return. I am lodged in the most splendid of palaces. If you thought Bolton Hall a difficult place to find one's way about, then this astonishing edifice would entirely flummox you. It is constructed of marble and gold, furnished with ivory and gilt furniture, and decorated with sumptuous velvets, silks and satins. You would love the garden. One part is planted entirely with chrysanthemums and dotted with fish ponds. The sounds at night are astounding frogs and something like crickets, and jackals that howl. To say it is a land of contrasts is an understatement. I was not prepared for the squalor that exists beyond the walls of privilege and luxury.

But I must not spend pages telling you of my impressions and experiences, when I can hear you asking, 'But what of Lydia Metcalfe?'

She also travelled to Gattiawan, to the palace built for her by Narayan. How they do this in so short a time defeats me. I did not enter this palace of hers while she was in residence, although I was building up to making a call on her and enquiring after her intentions.

Before I was able to do so, one of the servants woke me early in the morning to tell me that she had set off towards the railway, riding on an elephant, with a herd of elephants following behind, one of them bearing a grand piano.

I immediately despatched messages to Delhi. Having done so, I finally visited her palace. It is a most splendid affair, with many bedrooms and bathrooms, and its own wells. I walked about, guided by one of the Halkwaer servants. She had stripped the place bare. Not a cushion or a teaspoon remained.

Thanks to my timely message, her entourage was stopped and searched. Unsurprisingly, the Gattiawan diamond was not discovered.

She is now setting sail for who knows where with everything that the late maharajah had bestowed upon her sailing with her.

Kate, India is the most extraordinary place. I never understood those old India hands who spoke of it with such longing, often without knowing they betrayed their fascination and nostalgia. Until you have seen an Indian sunset, you have missed a marvel of the world.

With kind regards to all from your affectionate cousin, James

Forty-Five.

To be invited by the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Devonshire to luncheon on Christmas Eve came as an unexpected surprise. Having been paid by the India Office for my investigations, and rewarded by Princess Indira, this seemed like an added bonus, a special thank you for the miniscule part I had played in ensuring the smooth continuation of our rule in India.

The sky was full of snow. I felt some misgivings as I set off, taking the precaution of including an extra blanket and a change of clothing, as well as my trusty boots. One never knows at this time of year what the weather will bring and whether even a motor as trusty as mine will need to be abandoned by the roadside.

There were twenty for luncheon, including Dr Simonson, who reminded me that I had not yet taken up his offer of a ride in the Bugatti. We exchanged addresses and telephone numbers over a gla.s.s of sherry. He seemed inordinately pleased to be sitting beside me at lunch. I was not too displeased myself.

Given the state of the weather, staying too long was not a good idea. Dr Simonson and I were leaving at the same time, when the butler made a discreet beeline for me.

Dr Simonson hovered by the door.

The butler glanced about him before whispering, 'Her ladyship thought you might care to know that Miss Metcalfe is visiting her family.'

'Oh? How long has she been here?'

He hesitated. My guess was that the arrival of Miss Metcalfe and the despatch of my invitation to lunch would be suspiciously close to each other. So that was why I was here. Once more, I was expected to interrogate 'that woman'. Did someone really expect that I might burst in at the farmhouse and discover her at the kitchen table, eating mutton stew and polishing the Gattiawan diamond?

Dr Simonson took my hand as we reached our motors, mine parked neat as a spirit level, his c.o.c.k-eyed. 'I know this is short notice, but I had not intended to go to Skipton Hospital New Year's Eve dance, Mrs Shackleton. If you were free to come with me, I should change my mind and accept the invitation with alacrity.'

I smiled. 'It seems a pity that you should miss the dance.'

'Then you'll say yes?'

'I should be glad to.'

'You may not say that when I dance with you.'

We parted with a smile, and on first name terms. And I should have driven straight home, before the blizzard, but I could not resist. After all, Lydia Metcalfe may not stay here for long. Who knew what country might next call her to ravish its ruler or dip her hand into its treasure trove?

As I drove from Bolton Abbey, the snow came in swirls, making it difficult to see, transforming the once familiar route into a mysterious journey. The rattle of the cattle grid alerted me to watch for the turning to the Metcalfe farm. Greyish white sheep stood disconsolately near the drystone wall, doing their best to find shelter. Perhaps someone would bring them in soon.

By the turn off I left the car and put on my boots, not wanting to risk driving up the lane. The snow fell faster now and if the weather turned I may not be able to drive back along the narrow track.

Halfway up the path, I caught sight of a figure on the edge of a copse. Something in the way she moved told me it was Lydia. I had not expected to see her out in the snow. There were footprints, where she had crossed a stile.

I crossed also and followed her steps into the copse. She was holding a basket.

'Lydia!'

She turned, and blinked in surprise. 'I didn't hear you.' She wore a man's army greatcoat, sleeves rolled up, a navy check scarf, and boots. 'It's the snow. Everything becomes so m.u.f.fled.' She placed a branch of holly in the basket, next to a sprig of mistletoe.