Veils of Silk (49 page)

Laura smiled acknowledgment, but her mind was on the ideas Kamala was giving her. "So passion that has no outlet is the most compelling. In other words, by holding myself apart from my husband, I am making the situation worse for both of us?"

"Very likely," the maharani said. "While your intentions have been honorable, even noble, if you continue on your present course you are more likely to precipitate disaster than if you do what your heart and body hunger for." She made a rueful face. "It may be a mistake to give advice, for I am an outsider who has known you only a little while, and your husband I scarcely know at all. But I think it probable that if you can overcome your fears and become a real wife, very soon passion will cease to frighten you. Karma already binds you and your beloved together, so you might as well have the pleasures as well as the pain of that connection."

For Laura, Kamala's insights were like sunlight chasing the shadows from a room that had been closed for too long. It was all too true that whenever Laura thought of passion she became a terrified, irrational child. The time had come to use what wisdom she had acquired in her twenty-four years. She must try to understand herself as well as she understood others.

For the first time, she looked at her parents and was able to separate their passion from their tragedy. The two things had been irrevocably intertwined ever since she had witnessed their violent sexual union when she was an impressionable child. Yet as Kamala had pointed out, it was not passion as such that had caused her father's death, but infidelity, jealousy, and despair. And it was not sensual yearning that had caused Laura's rage at Edward, but his despicable behavior.

Once she had established that, she reexamined the jealousy she and Ian had both felt in Cambay. His had been rooted in his impotence, Laura's in the fact that she was neither his lover nor his beloved. Their fight would never have happened if they had been truly man and wife, and had been sure of each other.

To love Ian freely, without fear—could the solution really be that simple? Laura thought of the holy man in Hirsar, who had spoken to her after healing the child. He had said that when darkness seemed invincible, she would find light by accepting a truth demonstrated by the gods of India. Such truth was exactly what the maharani had given her.

With hope, rising, she said, "You may be right, Kamala. Lord knows that what I'm doing now isn't working. Worse, it's making Ian and me both miserable. It's time to take a chance."

"Good." Smiling wickedly, the maharani dismounted from the swing in one fluid motion. "You have said that matters are strained between you and Falkirk now, for he is an honorable man and strives to do the honorable thing. But I 'm sure that you are woman enough to find a proper balance in your marriage."

The idea of becoming a real wife was terrifying. Yet it also felt powerfully right, in a way that Laura's desperate confusion never had.

Her resolve was briefly shaken when she remembered Srinivasa's reference to Ian's imminent death. She felt another shiver of the childish terror that had ruled her life. Grimly she decided that she must suppress all memory of what the priest had said. Otherwise, she would go mad.

Enough had been said about her problems, but Laura thought that it was a good time to ask about something else that had been on her mind. As they strolled through the woods in the direction of the palace, she said, "I never know what to make of the Hindu religion, Kamala. It contains much beauty and wisdom, but also things that I can only see as barbaric."

"That's because Hinduism is not a religion in the western sense, but a way of life," the maharani replied. "There is not a single belief that a person must hold to be a Hindu— the only way to be Hindu is to be born one. You could not become one of us even if you sat at the feet of a guru for the rest of your life. Unlike Muslims and Christians, we do not try to convert others to our beliefs, for there is salvation in all true belief."

She picked a golden flower and inhaled the scent. "Yet our way of life has room for everyone. For the simple people, there are primitive rituals, for the sophisticated there are noble concepts of great subtlety." She chuckled. "Me, my beliefs are somewhere in the middle. Not too high, not too low. I will not be freed of the wheel of rebirth in this lifetime, but then, I don't want to be. I would be happy to have a thousand more lifetimes like this, with Rajiv
Singh."

"Aren't you disturbed by things like suttee?" Laura asked, thinking of Meera. "Many women are burned against their will."

"That is wrong, of course," Kamala said firmly. "Anyone who forces a woman against her will is a murderer who will pay for it in the next life. But for a woman who chooses it, suttee is a rite of great holiness. If Rajiv Singh dies before me, I will certainly accompany him to the pyre."

"You, Kamala?" Laura was so surprised that she stopped walking. It seemed impossible to reconcile such a terrible death with the serene, beautiful woman beside her.

The maharani smiled gently, as if talking to a child. "When Rajiv dies, my spirit will die with him. What is the point of preserving my body when we can be together in death and also in our next lives? When the time comes, I will go without doubts."

"I hope it doesn't come anytime soon," Laura said fervently.

"Srinivasa says we have many years still." After a few more steps, she added, "There is an old tale of a Rajput princess whose husband was called to battle on their wedding day. He was killed, and the next day she went to the pyre with him, virgin, bride, and widow, her nuptial flowers fresh on her breast."

Laura shivered a little. "That is a story of great power, but I am too much of the West to truly appreciate it. I would rather live for my husband, or even die to preserve his life, than follow him into death."

"Then live fully and without fear, Laura," the maharani said gently. "For him, and for yourself."

They emerged from the woods onto the wide green lawn that surrounded a small open pavilion. Laura was admiring the structure when she saw a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye. She turned her head, expecting to see a deer or monkey, then inhaled in horror. Somehow a black panther had gotten into the park. Swift as dark lightning, it bounded across the green turf toward the two women, its lithe muscles fluid with power. Struggling to keep panic from her voice, she gasped, "Kamala, we're in danger."

Laura looked around, wondering if there was help in sight, or if there would be time to reach the pavilion, but it was too far. Besides, if they turned their backs to run, the panther could bring them down as easily as lambs.

"Do not fear, Laura," the maharani said quickly. At the same moment, the panther swerved around Laura, then gathered its feet together and leaped straight at the maharani.

Before Laura could scream for help, she saw that the panther was not biting, but butting. It drove its round head into Kamala's ribs so hard that she was almost knocked from her feet. Smiling, she reached down with both hands and began roughly scratching behind the sleek ebony ears.

Incredulously Laura said, "It's a pet?"

"I'm sorry you were frightened, Laura," Kamala said contritely. "I forgot that you had never met Tika. Black panthers are very rare, and another rajah gave her to me when she was a kitten. I kept Tika in the palace when she was small. Now that she's full-grown, she has very fine quarters in the park. Still, whenever she scents me, she leaps the fence and comes immediately. Come, rub her chin. She is very fond of that."

Her heart still pounding with her reaction, Laura obeyed and was rewarded with a very loud, very unnerving, rumble of pleasure. Not a true purr, she decided, perhaps panthers weren't equipped for that. More of a focused growl, a sound that would have terrified anyone hearing it outdoors at night.

Laura had heard that black panthers were a variation of the regular leopard, and now she saw that the leopard pattern did indeed show up as blacker spots on the glossy fur. It was all most interesting. As Laura scratched the panther's chin, it closed its eyes in ecstasy and leaned into her hand so hard that she had to brace herself. It was much like a tabby cat, only larger. Much, much larger.

Kamala glanced up from her pet. "Passion is very like this," she said seriously. "Treat it as a wild beast and it has the power to destroy you. But make it your friend and it becomes a source of great pleasure."

Laura looked down at the panther and smiled. "Perhaps Srinivasa was correct in saying that there are no accidents. Certainly Tika came at a perfect time to illustrate your advice."

The panther was more than an illustration; it was an omen. As the two women resumed their walk to the palace, the panther twining between them, Laura realized, with a heady mixture of fear, determination, and hope, that she was going to follow Kamala's advice and try to make passion her friend. Then, God willing, she and Ian would find peace together.

The maharani was making perfume. Her labors filled her private sitting room with a dizzying blend of aromas-flowers and spice, sandalwood and herbs. Not quite satisfied, Kamala blended a single drop of oil into her latest mixture, sniffed the result, then sighed rapturously. "Finally." Holding the ceramic bowl to Laura, she said, "What do you think?"

After inhaling, Laura said, "Mmm, what a wonderful fragrance! Delicate, yet sensual."

Kamala nodded with satisfaction. "A truly fine perfume must express the wearer, and this one is perfect for you. It evokes innocent dawn and sultry night, ravishing a man's senses with both lust and tenderness."

"I hope so," Laura said. "It's wonderful of you to make such an effort on my behalf."

"I enjoy making perfume. I've often thought that if I had not been born a Rajput princess, I would have done well in a caste of perfumers." Kamala summoned a servant from the far end of the room and gave orders for the scent to be bottled. "I'll write down the recipe so that you can make it in England. A woman should have a special scent for her person and garments. It will haunt her husband even when she is not there."

"I'll think of you and Dharjistan whenever I wear it." Then, for the fourth or fifth time that day, Laura said, "Do you think the men will be back today?"