The Strangler Vine (19 page)

Mrs Parkes said, ‘I am not an admirer of the fashionable new piety. I see ambitious civilians I knew years ago in Calcutta who barely went to church, praying themselves into higher salaries. And all this talk of converting the natives, and how we are tainted by proximity to them and their beliefs. It was not thus when I first came to Calcutta.’

‘Nor was it for me, Mrs Parkes,’ said Blake. I was a little nonplussed by the forthrightness with which she expressed such views, but I could tell that all the time she was watching and weighing us up, and I had the strangest feeling that there was some current between Blake and herself which I did not fully understand.

‘When I came to India fifteen years ago,’ Mrs Parkes went on, ‘there was some respect and a wholesome curiosity about the customs and languages and great achievements of the natives. We visited the baboos and we learnt much from them. I learnt Hindoostanee, and a world opened to me. Ten years later Bentinck was trying to sell the Taj Mahal for marble to put a few pennies in the Company treasury. And now youngsters coming out here are encouraged to have as little as possible to do with the natives – I am sorry, Mr Avery, if I offend you, but I speak of what I see.’

‘Not at all, Mrs Parkes,’ I said, and with as much bite as I felt safe to venture, ‘and I am sure Mr Blake entirely agrees with you.’

‘Does he indeed.’

There was a pause. Mrs Parkes lifted her cup to her lips, sipped, swallowed, and said, ‘And so, my dear sirs, please satisfy a matron’s curiosity and tell me what two young Company men are doing in the city of Doora during the heir’s coming-of-age?’

I expected Blake would fob her off, but instead he said, ‘We come from Jubbulpore, Mrs Parkes, where we saw Major Sleeman.’

‘Ah yes, Major Sleeman. A remarkable man. You had the full tour, I suppose?’

There was something very dry in the way she said this, and Blake caught her eye and grinned at her as if they were sharing some joke, and said, ‘Indeed we did.’

He is flirting with her
, I thought. And the notion was so startling that I almost choked on my tea.

‘I was in Futtehpore in 1830 when they found three bodies in a well. I followed the articles about the Thugs in the
Calcutta Gazette
for several years. I even saw a Thug trial in Cawnpore. But of course, Mr Blake, you have not yet answered my question.’

‘No, Mrs Parkes,’ he said. He leant forward and rubbed his lower lip as if choosing his words carefully. ‘We’re here to see the Rao, but he’s not inclined to see us. Still, I think you know that already. There are many good reasons why he would not wish to see us. To begin, we are a somewhat eccentric, even lowly, party. I have a peculiar status – they call me a “Special Inquiry Agent” – and Avery is all but a griffin.’

Rather than looking offended, Mrs Parkes seemed amused.

‘As a mid-level civilian’s wife who travels alone, I am quite used to such attitudes.’

‘And of course the Rao might well be feeling less than warm towards the Company.’

I began to feel uneasy.

‘It may interest you to know, Mr Blake, that the Rao’s zenana is abuzz with talk of the two handsome Company officers and how they are not in good odour with the Rao. Usually they see only whiskery old Company officials.’

‘The zenana?’ I said, extremely impressed. A zenana is the Indian equivalent of the Turkish harem.

‘Don’t get yourself too excited, Avery,’ Blake said, and I scowled. ‘A zenana is the home of the women of the court. It’s true importance is as a centre of gossip and intrigue, not as a den of concubines. The Rao’s zenana is ruled over by his mother, who is the former regent and a person of great influence at court. Isn’t that right, Mrs Parkes?’

‘So I hear, Mr Blake.’

‘I think you know very well, Mrs Parkes. You went behind the
parda
yesterday and were escorted by the Rao’s European.’

Mrs Parkes smiled, ‘Monsieur Lartigue, the Rao’s master of artillery.’

‘They call you “the lady of the zenanas”.’

Mrs Parkes waved for some more tea. ‘They do?’

‘Fanny Parkes, the confidante of begums and bais. You taught the Bai of Scindia to ride side-saddle and persuaded her to go into exile in Benares on a Company pension. You are a friend of the old Begum of Oudh and, of course, of the Dowager-Begum of Doora. I heard she calls you the “great aunt of my granddaughter”.’

Mrs Parkes’ eyes narrowed. ‘My goodness, Mr Blake, you are well informed. You will know then that I am not so much famous as infamous. These days the Company suspects those who see beauty in the lives of the natives, and I am accused of befriending native ladies for my own enrichment. But I am useful to Residents’ wives and the Governor General’s sisters as a translator, for they will never learn Hindoostanee themselves and they have no interest in understanding local customs and courtesies.’ She spoke in a hard, matter-of-fact tone.

‘Mrs Parkes,’ said Blake, ‘I do know you. We met in Calcutta many years ago, but I don’t think you remember me.’

She stared at him now. ‘I do not, and yet I felt when I saw you that there was something familiar about you.’

‘I was a shrimp of a boy learning Hindoostanee from the same moonshee as you. I was a holy terror, the regiment’s mascot, a drummer boy with no manners. I kicked your horse and spat at your
sircar
.’

‘Bless me!’ The expression on Mrs Parkes’ face mirrored my own. She stared at him. ‘A filthy-mouthed little rascal who frightened the horses and thieved from the bazaar … Jemmy, Jemmy Blake!’

Blake nodded.

‘I would come to Writers’ Building to have my lesson,’ she continued, ‘it gave me an excuse to walk through the bazaar, and you had the lesson afterwards. You were only a boy, but already far better than me. They had you at Sanskrit and Persian before long.’

‘I was older than I looked, but yes, madam. They taught me Pashtu, Marathee and Gujuratee. I remember that you were kind to me. You gave me sweets and once a rupee.’

‘Did I? I had quite forgotten and I am sure you did not deserve it,’
she said. ‘You knew a great many words that I had never heard before, and I hope never to again. You were thrashed for it too. You were someone’s experiment. I always wondered what became of you. Bless me! And now you are the Company’s …’

‘Special Inquiry Agent. My relations with the Company are complicated. I became a captain, but it’s a long story. I lost my appetite for certain things. Lost many things.’

She sighed. ‘All our relations with the Company have become complicated. Are you married? Have you family?’

He hesitated. ‘Had. Lost that too, madam. A wife.’

‘I am so sorry.’

‘And I. But if I may test your patience, I would very much like to know what else they are saying in the zenana.’

Mrs Parkes looked at him appraisingly for a moment. ‘They say that your letter of introduction was brusque to the point of rudeness, and your – forgive me – lack of rank is an insult. They say your story of being attacked outside Doora is most ill-timed, deliberately ill-timed, perhaps. They say you came to harangue the Rao about his relations with the Company and to accuse him of confidentially protecting brigands and even Thugs. But I think you had guessed all that already. Some in the zenana are more charitable. They say how can two such personable young men be up to no good?’

He stared back at her. I might as well have not been in the room. ‘And what do you think?’

‘The Resident seems quite as exasperated by you as the Rao. As far as I am concerned that is in your favour. But then again you could simply be extremely tactless. I wonder, however, if you haven’t come to ask the Rao about Xavier Mountstuart.’

‘Mrs Parkes,’ Blake said quietly, and his eyes glittered, ‘you are a clever, clever woman.’

She gave him a frank, but slightly mocking, look. ‘I am a silly, easily flattered woman.’

‘Has he been here?’

‘I really do not know. There was the whisper of a rumour in the zenana about the
malik-al-shuara
, but that’s all. Nothing certain, but enough to pique my curiosity. He has not been seen in public,
but the Rao’s palaces are very large. I wonder why he would be in hiding?’

Blake shook his head. ‘Perhaps you have heard rumours?’

‘Not for the sake of a
roman-à-clef
about Calcutta, I’ll be bound. Something about things going awry in Jubbulpore? But stories like that always followed Mr Mountstuart. The thing is, as I have been thinking about what I remember of you, Jemmy Blake, I recall that you knew Mountstuart in Calcutta. You were his experiment, weren’t you?’

‘In a manner of speaking.’ He pushed himself back from the table, in retreat. ‘I had hoped that perhaps you might help us to get back in to see the Rao.’

She laughed. ‘I see. You want me to talk to the Begum. To ask her if she will persuade the Rao to reconsider your suit.’

‘Just so.’

For a moment her face fell, as if disappointed, but she recovered herself quickly.

‘It will be at the farthest reaches of my poor influence. And I am still not sure if I should help you. I like and respect the Begum more than I can say, I would do nothing to hurt or hinder her. And it is presumably the Company that has sent you to find Mountstuart?’

‘It is. But I swear to you, Mrs Parkes, my intentions are honest.’

‘Yes, well, honest intentions do not always beget honest acts. I will do what I can, though I can promise nothing. I am a fool with a bad taste for meddling. And I must leave in two days for Mirzapore to meet the Governor General’s caravan to the north. The Misses Eden want a translator to conduct them through the zenanas. I hope for both our sakes you are who you say you are, and who I would like to think you are. Neither of us will come out of this well if you are just another Company agent. I will tell them that you have a particular relationship with the
malik-al-shuara
, which explains your peculiar status and why you are here.’

‘May I ask, Mrs Parkes, if we had baulked at sitting on the floor, would we have passed the test?’

‘No, Jemmy Blake, you would not. Do close your mouth, dear Mr Avery. You have such a nice face and it does not become you.’

I could not sleep for thinking over what Blake had spilled out so freely to Mrs Parkes; descriptions that prompted more questions than they had answered. I wondered about his association with Mountstuart – how close it had been and still remained – and how a drummer boy had risen to the rank of captain, only to lose it.

The next day we received a letter from Mrs Parkes – which I transcribe here – and a small package.

My dear Mr Blake,

What an extraordinary sleight of fate has brought us together after all these years! Or is it fate, I wonder? I cannot help feeling there is something of what I recall of young Jemmy – quick, never trusting to chance and too clever for most mortals – in the older Mr Blake.

 

I have entrusted this letter to my sardar-bearer, a man I have known for many years and whom I entirely trust. I do not know quite why, but I feel inclined to advise you to make sure this letter is seen by no one other than yourself and Mr Avery. I saw the Begum yesterday. I enclose the following description because I am afraid I cannot resist an opportunity to show off my own cleverness – you will have to forgive me – and because I fancy it will entertain the boy I knew, and will interest the young almost-griffin Mr Avery, in whom I detect a taste for the romantic and the exotic. Am I right, Mr Blake?

 

I found Her Highness seated on a plain wood gaddi surrounded by her attendants, ladies and several daughters. She is small and delicate, and carries herself with that light-footed grace which we European ladies so noticeably lack. She has tiny hands and feet, and a deep, melodious voice. Her hair is the colour of gunmetal and drawn simply back from her face. Because she is a widow she has set ornament and comfort aside and wears plain cotton, and no adornment but a couple of simple gold bracelets, and sleeps on the bare ground. But have no doubt, she is still a force in the land. When the Rao was a child and sent to Calcutta, she ruled the kingdom with such sense and moderation that the local Resident never interfered and rather sang her praises to Calcutta. Now she has taken off the mantle of power – with some relief,
I fancy – but it is well known that the Rao still consults her on thorny matters. Mr Avery may be interested to learn that most of the ladies of the zenana are lively looking, rather than beautiful, and most are quite old, attendants of the Begum since youth. They all dress with the utmost decorum, in long petticoats and trousers beneath, save for their pretty
hinna
-ed feet. But one, the Rao’s newest wife, is truly ravishing. She wore a small tight shirt and a long piece of purple Benares silk with a golden border wrapped around her, and walks with tiny, graceful steps. She has velvet brown eyes, and a small mouth like a perfect piece of ripe fruit. She wore toe rings and silver ankle bracelets, and round her neck were the ubiquitous strings of pearls. The Rao’s new wife is the niece of his first minister. Between her and the Begum there is said to be little love lost – I Ieave you to draw your own conclusions – though before me they behaved to each other with the greatest courtesy. Nevertheless, this led me to think that I would have to be careful in how I broached the matter of your suit.

 

I had arranged to bring a remarkably beautiful Arab which belongs to my cousin to the zenana, as the Begum is a good judge of horse-flesh, and has always been curious about the side-saddle. It gave me a chance to lead the Begum into her courtyard, away from the new wife, who takes no interest in such things. The courtyard, incidentally, is a vast space, handsomely laid out with fountains and paths, and walls high enough so that even a man standing upon an elephant could not see over them. The Begum keeps two rhinoceroses within it, and feeds them oranges and sweetmeats – though today they were locked away. She liked my horse and examined it with the help of several rather fearsome female attendants who carry tulwars. I had promised to demonstrate the side-saddle, and so wore a black riding-habit, which caused great amusement among the ladies. They said I look like a European doctor and frightfully ugly! Nevertheless, I put the Arab through his paces and showed them how English ladies ride.

 

The Begum was vastly amused by my exhibition and insisted I try a native saddle with great iron stirrups on either side. I was persuaded to change into Rajput costume, and mounted one of the Begum’s horses, feeling a little like Queen Elizabeth giving that speech before the Armada.
The scene appeared to have pleased the Begum, and so I requested that I might speak to her on a difficult matter, making it clear that I would desist if the subject displeased her.

 

I reminded her of the two Company officers in bad odour with the Rao. Naturally she knew all about you, as she had seen you through the curtain at the banquet. I told her, as succinctly as possible, that I had known you as a child; that you had known Mountstuart for many years; and that I suspected that your quest was not quite what the Rao assumed it must be. I told her, knowing that it might be a mistake, that you had fallen as foul of the Resident as of the Rao – which interested her mightily. She was nevertheless hesitant. She said she would think upon the matter, and determine if she could raise it with her son. She intimated that the matter was not at all straightforward. As we spoke, the newest wife appeared in the courtyard saying that the attendants had told her that my riding had been most entertaining and she wished to see the horse. The Begum changed the subject instantly. I am sure that she believes the new wife to be the First Minister’s spy, sent to report on the extent of her influence over the Rao and to limit it.

 

When I left, my hands were powdered with attr, I was presented with pan, and an attendant sprinkled me copiously with rose-water – as you will know, the more lavishly one is doused in rose-water the greater the compliment, so I concluded with some relief that I had intrigued rather than insulted my hostess.

 

This morning one of the Begum’s male servants came to tell me that an audience with the Rao was not possible, but that you and Mr Avery are to be invited on the Rao’s shikar, which takes place tomorrow at Vishnagarh as part of the celebrations. It will be a tiger hunt, most unusually for the season, but apparently the Major General has asked especially. I do not know if the invitation is on the part of the Begum or the Rao, but it is at least a start. An invitation under normal circumstances is regarded as an honour. If you conduct yourselves well, it is possible it may lead to something. I am sorry I cannot conjure more. Clearly there is more to this whole matter than a simple audience. But you know that better than I.

 

I am making my final preparations for quitting Doora, and so I shall not have the chance to tell you this myself, nor the pleasure of satisfying my curiosity as to the consequences of my endeavours, and yours.
Whatever the outcome, I hope our paths may cross again and I sign myself, your friend,

 

Mrs Fanny Parkes

 

P.S. I also send a pot of the ointment I told you of, for Lieutenant Avery’s arm.