Page 29 of The Girl from the Tea Garden (The India Tea #3)

A dela, in camisole and knickers, was rifling through the wardrobe in the green room looking for the yellow sari she was to wear for the tableaux. Deborah was already dressed in green pyjama-trousers, a tunic and a gold-edged shawl, and was applying her make-up.

There was a knock at the door.

‘Come in, Tommy!’ Adela called. ‘Any idea where my sari is? Tommy, if you’ve hidden it, I’ll string you up by you know what—’

Deborah’s squeal cut her off. Adela emerged from the wardrobe to see a handsome young Indian in a glittering gold coat, tight white trousers, curling slippers and a magnificent blue turban studded with jewels.

Adela gaped.

‘I’m terribly sorry, ladies,’ he said in a cut-glass English accent.

‘I’m looking for MrVilliers; I’m to be in his play.

’ By the amused look on his slim moustachioed face, he didn’t look at all sorry.

Adela dived behind the wardrobe door, pulled on a silk dressing gown, and re-emerged with a smile.

‘I thought you were Tommy Villiers; he’ll be here somewhere. Do you want me to find him for you?’

‘Well, that’s most kind’ – he eyed her – ‘but shouldn’t you put something on first?’

‘Oh, Tommy’s seen it all before,’ Adela said, and then laughed, ‘hasn’t he, Deb?’

But her friend was too shocked at the appearance of an Indian in their dressing room to speak.

‘I must say,’ Adela said, padding barefoot to the door, ‘you look terrific in that outfit. Wardrobe have really pushed the boat out for this production, haven’t they? Are you with the Indian Army?’

‘No, I’m not.’ He gave her a bemused look.

‘You’re not with the forestry lot, are you? It’s just that you look familiar.’

He looked amused. ‘No, not the forestry either. But I think I know who you are. Miss Robson from Belgooree, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’ Adela smiled. ‘So you’re something to do with tea?’

He shook his head. ‘Sophie Khan told me to look out for you.’

‘You know Auntie Sophie? How lovely!’

She led the way into the corridor and stopped in astonishment.

Two liveried guards, standing either side of the door, saluted.

For a dazed moment Adela thought they must also be part of the production of The Arabian Nights.

Then realisation dawned; they were wearing the yellow-and-turquoise livery of the Raja of Gulgat.

She turned and stared at the Indian actor, blood rushing to her cheeks.

‘Oh Lord.’ She gasped. ‘You’re– are you a real prince?’

He gave a charming smile. ‘Sanjay Singh of Gulgat, the Raja’s nephew.’

Adela dropped in a curtsy, clutching her dressing gown and feeling ridiculous. ‘I’m so sorry, Your Highness. I thought you were an Indian officer or someone on leave– just dressed up for the play.’

He chuckled and swept her with a look. ‘No need for ceremony, Miss Robson, especially given the circumstances.’ He held out a hand. ‘My friends call me Jay.’

‘Call me Adela, please.’ She shook his hand. ‘What a fool I feel.’

‘Your openness is refreshing,’ he assured her. ‘I prefer it any day to the fawning of courtiers or the stuffiness of British officials. And yes, I am dressed up for the part. You’re much more likely to see me in cricket whites than all this.’ He swept a mocking hand over his appearance.

‘We must find Tommy,’ she said hastily, pointing up the corridor. He insisted she went ahead. ‘It’s very good of you to volunteer for the play,’ she said over her shoulder as she led the way. ‘Have you acted before?’

‘No, but Colonel Baxter approached me at the club– he’s an old friend of my uncle’s– and I didn’t think it would take a great deal of effort to play an Eastern prince. I gather I just stand around looking decorative and don’t speak.’

Adela laughed, liking his droll humour. ‘Colonel Baxter is a dear. How are Auntie Sophie and Uncle Rafi?’

‘A couple of junglis,’ said Sanjay. ‘I don’t know how they stand being in Gulgat all year round. Even the Raja’s wife, Rita, insists on getting away to Bombay or France once in a while. I’ve spent the last three years in Europe, so Gulgat is a bit of a shock I can tell you.’

‘I was hoping they might come to Simla this summer to see me in a play.’ Adela stopped outside Tommy’s door.

‘If I’d known there was a Belgooree rose blooming in Simla,’ he said, smiling, ‘I would have come a lot sooner too.’

They stood for a moment assessing each other.

He was stunningly handsome in his princely garments, but she remembered how his demanding behaviour had caused Sophie and Rafi to argue one Christmas.

According to Sophie, Sanjay had been sent off to university– was it Oxford?

– to keep him out of palace intrigues and give him an elite education.

He was a man used to getting his own way– a spoilt brat, Sophie had called him– but that was years ago, and no doubt he had matured.

‘We’ve met before,’ Adela said, wanting to wrong-foot him for catching her half-dressed and causing consternation.

‘We have?’ He raised an eyebrow.

‘On a hunting trip when I was six and you must have been about ten. You threatened to skin my pet tiger and made me cry.’

His dark eyes widened an instant. ‘What a little brute I must have been.’ He laughed. ‘I hope you won’t hold it against me for ever.’

‘I forgive you as from now.’ Adela smirked.

‘Good,’ said Sanjay, ‘and I will endeavour to make amends. You must come out to the villa at Mashobra– with your guardian of course– and I can tell you all about the intrigues of the Gulgat court. That is what women like to hear, isn’t it?

The latest gossip? And I’m sure Sophie Khan will have given you quite the wrong impression of me. Promise me you will come, Adela.’

She couldn’t help but be flattered. ‘Promise.’ She smiled and then knocked on Tommy’s door and walked in before he answered.

It soon became backstage gossip that Adela was being pursued by the young Prince Sanjay, who spent his days riding or playing polo at Annandale and his evenings in the clubs and card rooms of Simla, with the occasional appearance at the Gaiety for rehearsals, causing a flutter among the young actresses.

‘You should watch your step with that one,’ Deborah warned. ‘Prince Sanjay’s got a reputation for trying to get his way with European girls. I know someone who knew someone who was with him at Oxford. Word has it he was sent down for having a woman in his rooms.’

‘Stop listening to tittle-tattle,’ Adela said breezily. ‘Jay’s a perfect gentleman. Aunt Fluffy is always there chaperoning me anyway, and she thinks he’s a real charmer. They share a love of Tagore’s poetry.’

She dismissed Deborah’s disapproval as a dose of envy at Jay singling her out rather than her friend; blonde Deborah was used to basking in men’s attention during the Simla season.

Why Jay had done so, Adela wasn’t at all sure, except that she was young, unattached and popular among the theatre crowd, and he was in Simla to have some fun.

Sometimes he would send a rickshaw to bring her out to the forested spur of Mashobra– with its exclusive mansions, including the Viceroy’s country retreat– and she would join a large hunting party of his club friends and one or two rajas from the surrounding hill states.

Jay was particularly friendly with the Raja of Nerikot, who shared his love of shikar and good living.

Any trip would entail a stop for a sumptuous picnic of caviar, salmon, curry puffs, puddings and champagne, served at tables and eaten off exquisite china, all of which was brought on the backs of dozens of mules and hill porters.

Adela felt uncomfortable at the lavishness of these al fresco dinners, knowing how little the Raja’s coolies had to eat and how the hill families struggled for their daily existence.

She thought how much Sam would disapprove and then pushed him from her mind.

Weeks had gone by since the trip to Narkanda, and Sam had made no attempt to get in touch.

And there would be no chance to go back to the mission any time soon, as Fatima was too busy at the hospital and Adela was committed to the theatre season.

Adela much preferred the times when Jay appeared without ceremony to go riding, rather than the grand hunting expeditions. They would trot up Jakko Hill to see the sunrise, with just a retainer on horseback keeping a discreet distance behind.

‘Best part of the day,’ Adela said on one such ride, breathing in the sweet air of early morning while monkeys swung and screeched between the trees by the temple.

‘I normally hate early mornings,’ said Sanjay. ‘I only do it to keep Robson Memsahib happy.’

‘I’m honoured, Your Highness.’ She returned his mocking smile.

‘You should be. There is no one else I would do this for– except perhaps the Viceroy or my Uncle Kishan.’

‘You’re very fond of your uncle, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, very.’

‘Uncle Rafi is too,’ she said. ‘He’d do absolutely anything for the Raja.’

‘I wish he was as loyal to me,’ Sanjay said, his tone suddenly petulant. ‘He still insists on backing the claim of Rita’s brat, Jasmina, although it’s quite obvious that I, as a man, would make a much better ruler.’

‘I don’t think it’s anything to do with Rafi,’ Adela defended. ‘Surely it’s up to the Raja.’

‘Oh, Rafi Khan has a great deal of influence over my uncle, believe me. If he said the word, I would be Uncle Kishan’s successor.

Stourton, the British Agent in Gulgat, thinks it should be me, but Rafi won’t listen to him.

But then Sophie and Rita stick together– they’re as thick as thieves.

If Rita says jump, then Sophie and Rafi jump.

’ Sanjay turned to look at her intently with his dark, almond-shaped eyes. ‘You could speak to Rafi on my behalf.’

Adela hesitated, not wanting to get embroiled in Gulgat politics.

‘If you persuaded Sophie, then she would persuade her adoring husband.’ There was still an edge to his voice.

‘Well, if you think it would do any good.’