Page 35 of This Heart of Mine (O’Malley Saga #4)
“You are a princess,”
he answered, “and it is my duty to serve you. You will be used to me in a few days.”
He chuckled. “And then you will think nothing of my presence.”
Taking a hairbrush from his pantaloons, he sat down next to her and began to brush out her luxuriant hair quite expertly, gently but firmly removing the tangles. When he had finished, he replaced the brush within the voluminous folds of his pantaloons and walked to the door. Turning, he smiled and said, “I will sleep outside in the hallway. Should you need me you have but to call.”
“Where are you taking my clothes?”
she asked. “They are all I have.”
“I must give them to the laundress to wash,”
he said. “Do not worry. In the morning there will be a trunkful of beautiful garments for you, I promise. Good night.”
She was alone. Alone for the first time in many months. For some minutes she sat in the middle of the silken bed staring through the open arch that led to the terrace. Her eyes were not really focused on anything, but her mind was very active. She was hundreds of miles from a coast that separated her by thousands of miles of water from her own land. It was a sobering thought. Would her family—could her family—ever find her? And if they did, what was really left for her in England? In the months following Alex’s death she had consoled herself with the thought of caring for her aging parents, but the truth was that neither Adam nor Skye would ever be old in a conventional sense, and they had each other. She had no one. Even Pansy had Dugald, and that was something that she had to think seriously about now.
The baby that Pansy carried was certainly Dugald’s, and he had just as much right to his child as she did. Pansy was eventually going to have to be returned to England with her child to be reunited with Dugald. It was only right. Velvet was relieved, however, to realize that it would be many months before Pansy could even consider going.
Velvet sighed deeply and stretched out, flinging the silken coverlet off her. There was the tiniest of breezes coming through the arch, but it was warm and scented with a hauntingly sweet fragrance that was not familiar to her. She wondered what it was and decided to ask Adali tomorrow. What is to happen to me? she thought. The Portuguese have attempted to curry favor with the Grand Mughal by sending me to grace his bed. He is a kind man, but is he a patient one? How can I submit to him? How can I be his concubine? I am so afraid. They were disturbing thoughts that swirled around in her brain, but despite the distress they caused, Velvet, exhausted both emotionally and physically by her travails of the last month, without realizing it fell into a deep sleep.
The moon rose and silvered the landscape of Fatehpur-Sikri, preening itself vainly in the city’s artificial lake and fountains. The reddish-and-white sandstone glistened as the moonlight touched the whimsical domes, turned columns, and the carved sandstone panels on the exterior of the palaces. All was still and quiet, but for the occasional cackle of a hyena out scavenging beyond the city’s walls.
In the emperor’s zenana the female guards, nodding sleepily at their posts, straightened momentarily as Akbar moved by them. He paused before Velvet’s doorway, and instantly Adali was on his feet quietly opening the portal to him. Silently Akbar moved into the chamber and, standing before the bed, gazed down at the sleeping girl. Slowly his eyes traveled the length of her, taking in the delicacy of her fine bone structure; her lovely, smooth, round breasts; lithe waistline; long, slim legs; and slender feet. In the moonlight her creamy skin was faultless. She had spread her hair over the pillow before falling asleep in order to be cooler, and, reaching out, he fingered a silky curl. Then he sighed. She was flawless, a perfect beauty, and he longed to possess her body. Yet there was more.
The women of his land were taught meekness from the cradle, and though some were strong of character, few would go against their breeding. Those who did generally did it for their sons or husbands who were either young or weak, or both. Indian women did not converse intelligently with men, considering such behavior forward and rude. In the privacy of the bedchamber a woman spoke of love, or of her children, or worried about her lord’s health.
This young woman, however, was vastly different. It was apparent from the moment she was dragged, shrieking, into his presence. An Indian woman would have submitted meekly, but not this English rose. She was highly educated, he could see, for her French was even better than that of the Jesuit who had taught him.
Akbar, though he could neither read nor write, was a highly educated man. In his youth he had escaped his tutors for hunting and riding, pursuits he far preferred, but because he was infinitely curious, he now had scholars of all subjects surrounding him, reading to him, discoursing with him, lecturing to him. There was very little of the world’s knowledge that he did not know, and he was forever seeking to learn more.
This girl who lay here in her innocent, troubled sleep could be something more to him than simply a beautiful body to enjoy, to slake his desires upon. She could be his companion and his friend as well. It was a novel idea, and he pondered it as he turned away from Velvet and exited her chamber to return to his own. It was a thought he would never share with anyone else, for his friends would be shocked and amused and the women of his household would be horrified.
The English woman was going to ask him, he knew, to return her to her own people. It was something he could not do for many reasons but mainly because he would not offend the Portuguese. He was going to have to work very hard to make Velvet happy so that she would want to stay with him, so that she would not pine for her own people. He found it an interesting challenge.
In the morning as Velvet sat wrapped in the silk coverlet on her bed eating something cool, tart, and smooth that Adali called yogurt, sipping a pungent hot drink he told her was tea, a knock came upon the door. Opening it, Adali gave a small cry of delight and stepped back to allow entry to a line of slaves who entered the room carrying all manner of things.
“What is this?”
Velvet’s eyes widened.
“Just the beginning, my princess,”
said the eunuch. “The lord Akbar honors you with gifts. Did I not tell you that you had caught his eye?”
She watched as two men carried in and out onto the rooftop terrace a large, stuffed, silk-upholstered piece of furniture. It was shaped in a semicircle with a medium-high back and rolled arms. Upon its seat they placed many cushions. Next to it went a small table inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
“What on earth is that for?”
she asked Adali.
“For reclining,”
he answered her.
“It is very big,”
she replied.
“Big enough for two.”
He smiled broadly.
“Oh!”
“Aiyee! Look, my princess! Look!”
Adali was almost dancing with delight as two matching trunks—each painted with exquisite designs of pink, blue, and red flowers with yellow centers and green leaves upon a shiny, black-lacquered background, and bound with bright polished brass bands—were brought into the room. He did not wait for the trunks to be opened by the bearers, instead eagerly lifting the lid on the one nearest to hand himself to reveal that it was filled with clothing, a rainbow of skirts and dainty blouses that he lifted out with tiny exclamations of pleasure. They were all of the finest, softest silk: some decorated with gold or silver designs, some bejeweled, some plain. The colors were bright, but only those shades that would flatter her: blues, greens, pinks, mauves, purples, tawny oranges, and creams.
Velvet was honestly stunned by this unexpected bounty and, looking at Adali, said, “Why?”
“Foolish woman,”
he answered her in a scolding tone, “I keep telling you that you have found favor with the lord Akbar.”
“I have done nothing,”
she said, bewildered.
“He is wooing you, my princess. Have you never been wooed?”
She shook her head, realizing that she and Alex had fought and battled through their courtship, but never had he wooed her in a traditional sense. He had loved her, but he had certainly never courted her. Velvet’s female soul was touched.
“Open the other trunk,”
she commanded the eunuch, and when he had she stared in surprise at its contents. There were carved jade bottles containing lotions and scents all with the same fragrance that Adali identified as jasmine.
“Is that what is growing outside on my terrace?”
she questioned him.
He nodded. “Jasmine is a flower of love, my princess.”
Velvet said nothing, instead looking farther into the second trunk to find a lovely, pearl-studded, gold brush for her hair and a miniature of the larger trunk filled with hair ornaments made from both precious metals and jewels. There was another box carved from a solid piece of lavender jade, mounted with silver hinges and a silver-filigreed lock that, when opened, revealed a small fortune in jewels. If there was one thing Velvet knew it was precious gems, for her mother had one of the most incredible collections of jewelry in all of Europe. As a child she had delighted in playing with the sparkling gemstones and Skye had explained to her child what each stone was and where the finest examples of each came from. In the jade box were Ceylon sapphires, Burmese rubies, Indian Ocean pearls, incredible yellow diamonds, fine, deep purple amethysts, light blue aquamarines, emeralds, olive green peridots from the Red Sea, and honey-colored zircons. They were set in necklaces, chains, earbobs, and rings; and there wasn’t a flawed stone among them.
Adali was almost beside himself with joy. He doubted that his master had done more than hold the English woman’s hand so far, and yet he was already showering her with valuables. While Velvet sat stunned, gazing at the contents of the lavender jade box, the eunuch directed the parade of slaves that continued to enter the room bearing more gifts. Magnificent red and blue wool rugs were spread upon the floors; tall, brass vases filled with flowers were placed upon the floor throughout the chamber; several small tables were placed strategically, and then lamps of silver studded with colorful gemstones were brought and put on the tables. Finally twin girls of approximately ten years of age, with long, straight black hair, expressive dark eyes, and golden skin, entered and prostrated themselves before Velvet. Behind them came Ramesh, who spoke quickly to the eunuch, handed him a small, covered reed basket, and then left.
Adali’s eyes grew round with importance. “The lord high steward brings you greetings from our master, the lord Akbar. The little girls are to be your handmaidens. They are identical but for one thing. Toramalli has a birthmark by the corner of her right eye, and Rohana has the mark by the corner of her left eye.”
He was positively puffed up with new importance, Velvet noted with amusement.
Shooing everyone but the handmaidens from the room, he presented Velvet with the reed basket. “This is something that the lord Akbar thought you might particularly enjoy,”
Adali said.
Velvet lifted the lid of the basket, and then her mouth formed a small O of delight. “It’s a kitten!”
she said, smiling delightedly. “Oh, Adali, look! A kitten!”
She lifted from the basket a tiny, long-haired black kitten with just the teeniest bit of white at the very tip of its tail. “Is it a male or a female?”
she asked the eunuch.
“It is a gentleman cat, I am told, my princess.”
For a moment the kitten looked about, wide-eyed, at his new surroundings, then he leaped from the bed, and with his tiny tail swishing gracefully set about to explore the room.
“I shall call him Banner,”
Velvet said, “for his little tail with its white tip is just like a floating banner.”
The eunuch nodded with a smile. “Perfect,”
he agreed.
Suddenly Velvet realized that it was close to midmorning, and she had not yet been to visit poor Pansy. How frightened and confused her faithful tiring woman would be waking up in this palace and not knowing where she was. “Adali! My poor maid will wonder where I am. Give me something to wear! I must go immediately to her!”
As Adali had predicted, Velvet on this her second day in Fatehpur-Sikri was no longer concerned about his gender or rather lack of it. Her mind was on Pansy, and, leaping from the bed, she accepted the clothing he handed her, slipping her feet into the delicate sandals Toramalli and Rohana held out for her. Then with Adali bustling after her she hurried from her chamber and down the corridor to Pansy’s quarters.
As Velvet entered the room Pansy’s eyes lit up with relief, and she smiled weakly. “M’lady! Oh, thank God!”
Velvet bent to hug her maid, and then sat down on the edge of the girl’s bed. “Pansy, why didn’t you tell me that you were with child? It’s Dugald’s child, isn’t it?”
Pansy looked very shamefaced. “How did you find out, m’lady?”
“The physician who examined you to determine your illness told me. You’ll have to remain in bed for a while, for it is the babe and the heat that have caused your fever and the swelling. You’ll both be all right, however, if you’ll abide by the physician’s instructions.”
Pansy looked relieved. “That’s a mercy,”
she said, and then, “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know until we were well at sea that I was with child. At first I didn’t believe it myself, for Dugald and me was only together once, on Twelfth Night. In the beginning when me moon link was broken I thought that it was perhaps because of the great upset we suffered leaving England. By the time I realized that it wasn’t that at all, I was too ashamed to tell you, and I didn’t seem to be showing so I kept it to myself.”
“Did I not warn you about Dugald, Pansy? Your mother and father will not be very happy when they learn about this. I thought you meant to save yourself until you and Dugald were married. A man will not buy the cow if he can obtain the cream for free, as Dame Cecily has so often said,”
Velvet scolded.
“Dugald and me pledged ourselves in handfast before the earl’s men on Twelfth Night, m’lady. He said that in Scotland ’twas legal, and since you and the earl had done it, and we were going to live in Scotland, too, ’twould be all right. He promised me a church wedding when we got to Dun Broc. I was only with him that one time, for it seemed a shame to deny him his wedding night, but afterwards I told him we’d cuddle and grope no more until we had stood before a proper preacher.”
Velvet sighed. That devil, Dugald! she thought. Well, there was no help for it now, and she didn’t want to fret Pansy about it further. She patted her tiring woman’s hand. “It will be all right, and our main concern must now be your safety and the baby’s.”
The tension drained from Pansy’s face. “Where are we?” she said.
“We are in the royal city of Fatehpur-Sikri, Pansy, and I have met the Grand Mughal himself. He is a kind and good man.”
“How long have we been here, m’lady?”
“Just since yesterday,”
Velvet answered. “When Zafar Singh, the physician, says you are well enough, you must come with me to my apartment. It is only one room, but it is enormous, and there is a lovely terrace that is mine. The Mughal has given me a eunuch named Adali, who is kind and funny, and two dear little girls, Toramalli and Rohana, for maidservants.”
Pansy looked somewhat put out. “There’ll not be much for me to do then, will there, m’lady, with all your new servants.”
“Oh, Pansy, no one can take care of me like you!”
Velvet protested. “As Daisy is to my mother, so are you to me, but don’t forget that in less than two months you’ll have a child to care for, and then you’ll have little time for me.”
“You’re me mistress,”
said Pansy in an aggrieved tone. “I’ll nurse my babe, but I’ll let one of the others care for it so that I may care for you. ’Tis my duty, and me ma would have my head if I acted otherwise!”
“We’ll all take turns with the baby, Pansy,”
soothed Velvet.
“What’s to become of us, m’lady?”
Pansy suddenly asked. “Will we ever go home? This place is so very, very hot. Does it never get cool?”
“I don’t know if it ever does,”
was Velvet’s answer. “I am trying not to think about it. I’ll ask Adali about the weather. Surely it won’t be this stifling all the year round.”
She smiled encouragingly at Pansy.
“But when are we going home?”
Pansy repeated.
“I don’t know,”
said Velvet. “I have not had the opportunity to speak with the lord Akbar about it, but I will. You can’t leave now, Pansy. You must first finish your confinement, and then we must be certain that the baby is strong enough to make such a long trip. I am afraid that it will be several months before we can even consider leaving India.”
Pansy nodded, beginning to look tired again.
Velvet arose from her sitting position. “I will return later, Pansy,”
she said. “Rest, and do not fear. We are safe here, I promise you.”
Bending, she kissed Pansy’s brow. The tiring woman’s eyes were already shut.
“Your servant is better?”
inquired Adali as she exited the little room.
“Yes, I believe so,”
said Velvet. “I will want to see her again later.”
“Of course, my princess. You are free to see her at any time.”
As they reentered Velvet’s chamber, he continued, “Now, however, our schedule calls for a trip to the baths.”
There was no protest from Velvet. She had to admit that she enjoyed all the pampering that seemed to go on here. With Adali walking ahead, and flanked by Toramalli and Rohana, she made her way through the zenana to the baths. The little maids carried fresh clothing for her and a basket of lotions and perfumes. As they entered the baths a party of women was exiting. One, a tiny elegant woman with the most beautiful, long dark hair Velvet had ever seen and wonderfully expressive golden-brown eyes, stopped a fraction of a second to stare quite openly at her. The woman’s glance was without malice. It was simply curious. Some deep instinct told Velvet that this dignified lady was of great importance, and she bowed her head politely. A small smile touched the woman’s lips, and she gave a little nod in return before passing on out of the baths.
“Who was that?”
Velvet demanded of Adali.
“That was the Princess Jodh Bai, mother of the heir and a favorite of our lord Akbar. You did well to make your obeisance, my princess. She was, I could tell, well pleased by your good manners.”
The bath mistress greeted Velvet effusively. Zenana gossip had already informed her of the train of gifts that had arrived at the foreign woman’s chambers this morning. Gifts! And the lord Akbar had not even slept with her yet! The bath mistress had also seen Velvet’s modest and correct behavior toward Jodh Bai, who was a great favorite within the zenana. She hummed with approval as she supervised Velvet’s morning ablutions.
“She has pretty manners, the foreign woman. You have fallen into a pot of honey, Adali.”
She chuckled.
“Of course she has fine manners, Raokhshna. She is a princess in her own land.”
The eunuch lowered his voice and confided in the bath mistress, “Our lord Akbar calls her his ‘Rose.’ Have you ever seen such rare beauty before?”
Roakhshna nodded in agreement. “She is wonderfully fair, and her temper seems pleasant enough. If she becomes his favorite, your fortune will be made. If she bears him a child, you will be a rich man, Adali. I hope you will remember old Roakhshna then, eh?”
She poked him playfully.
“Help me to make her the most beautiful woman he has ever possessed, and I promise not to forget you in my good fortune,”
he assured her.
Velvet listened to them chattering back and forth and suspected that she was their topic of conversation. She wished she knew what it was they spoke of, but she would not ask in this instance. After she had been scrubbed, pumiced, bathed, and lotioned she was led to a padded bench and placed facedown. For the next hour Adali’s skillful fingers massaged every inch of her body until she was so relaxed that it was an effort to stay awake. Then dressed in fresh garments she was led back to her chamber where she did indeed fall asleep, her soothed body and spirit unable to resist in the heat of the day.
Toward late afternoon she awakened and was brought more yogurt, fruit, and tea that had been minted. She was wet with the heat, and it all tasted very good to her. She had just finished her meal when her chamber door opened, and Akbar entered the room.
“You are feeling more rested?” he asked.
She rose from her table to face him, realizing as she did that he was no more than an inch taller than she. She could look directly into his dark eyes. “I am much better,”
she answered, “and if you have the time I should like to speak with you on a serious matter.”
He held up his hand, and she fell silent. “Before you do let me ask you, is it true that the noblewomen of Europe ride horses?”