It felt as if the breath had been ripped out of me. “He said from Jhansi? Jhalkari, are you sure?”
She lowered her head. “I’m sorry.”
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
The next morning, a sailor shouted, “Land ho!” the way they do in books, and everyone rushed up to the decks to see England for the first time. A heavy fog hung like loose gauze over the shore, but beyond it, rising into the mist, were the tallest cliffs I had ever seen. They were covered in green, trees so tall and thick that they looked like fistfuls of jagged emeralds. We were all silent, trying to imagine what sort of world we would find beyond them.
Arjun came and stood at my side, but I stiffened. “Beautiful,” he said.
When I turned, he was looking me. I lowered my gaze in shame. How could he stare at me like that and want another woman as his wife? It was no one’s fault but my own. I had allowed it, encouraged it even. I held my chin high, but the pain in my chest felt as if it would crush me. “Yes,” I said and walked away. I joined Major Wilkes on the other side of the ship, and tried to look as if it were wind, not tears, in my eyes.
“December in England,” he said as I joined him. Just as he had in the port of Madras, he inhaled. England had a particular smell for him, the same as Barwa Sagar had for me. I believe this is how it is for all men who serve abroad. Their lives are full of waiting to go home, and after ten, twenty, even thirty years in a foreign country, they never truly feel at peace in their souls. “I have no idea what we’re doing in Jhansi,” he said to me, opening his eyes. “Or why any Englishman would even want to live there. No one wants you to convince our queen to leave India more than I do. Though I’d deny it if anyone said as much.”
I studied the major’s face, and he seemed to be in earnest.
He inhaled again as the ship docked, and I did the same, trying to smell what he did. But my thoughts returned to Arjun. How could he share books with me and practice yoga and then say he hoped to find a bride? I gulped the air, trying to clear my head. The cold wind was heavy with the scents of brine and the sea. It carried with it the sounds of the dock, crowded with merchants, sailors, and travelers disembarking from other ships. It was impossible to know what to look at first. All the carriages with their passengers in pretty bonnets and top hats, or the sailors who hurried to arrange the gangplank?
We stepped off the pier onto solid ground and I kept close to Jhalkari. It wasn’t fair to let Arjun see how much I hurt. He’d never made any declarations of love to me; never once mentioned marriage or how things might have been different. I let the new sights and sounds overwhelm me, and the twelve of us huddled together on the busy pier until Major Wilkes joined us by announcing, “We’ll be taking four carriages to London. It’s going to be a long journey.”
We wrapped ourselves in the fur cloaks the rani had gifted us, then sat four to a carriage. Jhalkari seated herself next to me, and with the soft ermine fur brushing her cheeks, she looked like the rani. We would probably never own such luxury again even if we lived another hundred lives. Across from us, Arjun and Wilkes took their seats. They pressed their backs against the soft velvet of the carriage, and I wondered if all Englishmen traveled this way. Then I thought of Arjun with a young wife from the city and my stomach felt tight again. It was a feeling I would have to learn to live with. He had never made any promises to me. I was the one who had been foolish.
“You’re going to be quite amazed when we reach London,” the major said.
But as the carriages lurched forward, we were already amazed.
The hills of England rolled on forever, dotted by churches and pretty stone villages. The major had closed the windows, but I could still smell the rich scent of burning wood as we traveled along. We passed through several crowded cities, and the noise reminded me of Jhansi. Women walked as freely as men, some even commanding carriages. They rode horses wearing skirts and sitting sideways; they laughed with their mouths open, showing their teeth like hyenas. But most outrageous: they wore dresses that displayed more than half of their bosoms.
“Did Mrs. McEgan explain to you about the queen’s court?” the major asked as we rode.
“Yes.” Unlike the rani, the queen only allowed certain members of society to be presented. Military men, religious men, physicians, lawyers, and any of their wives, were all acceptable. But businessmen, merchants, and their families—however wealthy—were not welcome. Did the Queen of England know that Jhalkari and I had been born in a village, and that Jhalkari was a Dalit, no less?
“Then I assume you know that once we arrive, the queen will decide when to receive you. It may be today, it may be another day. Until then, enjoy the sights.”
How can I explain to you the excitement of seeing London for the first time? Everywhere we looked, there were women—barefaced, laughing, drinking cups of tea. Even with the bitter wind, their hats towered above them, all lace trim and feathers, like birds wanting to be seen. We passed Hyde Park where handsome couples walked children and tiny dogs. In Jhansi, such a park would be in daily use for weddings. Here, there was not a single wedding celebration to be seen.
“There goes Park Lane,” the major said as we rode. “Those are the most fashionable houses in London.”
A dozen families in Barwa Sagar could live in a house meant for a single family.
“And there is Fortnum and Mason, the grocer to the queen.”
The major had a comment about everything.
Then Arjun’s eyes grew wide and he took in his breath. I saw it at the same time: Buckingham Palace. It sprawled across our entire field of view, a majestic palace surrounded by sweeping gardens.
“I thought you might like to see this before we reached the hotel,” Major Wilkes said.
Everything I’d seen in Jhansi seemed small by comparison. We slowed briefly in front of the gates, and then the coaches took off toward Albemarle Street, where we stopped in front of a towering building with a sign that read BROWN’S HOTEL.
“This is where we’re staying?”
Wilkes smiled at me. “This is it.”
It was like a palace itself. A dozen men in black coats and white lapels appeared to take away our luggage. Outside, the air was crisp and smelled of trees. Wilkes said it was the evergreens used to decorate the outside of the hotel.
“Then these garlands aren’t normal?”
“No. They’re for Christmas. Like those holly berries over there.”
Inside, the evergreens gave the reception room a delightful smell. Everything was bright and cheerful. We were shown to our rooms, seven chambers on the same hall, and told that dinner would be served downstairs in the dining room. Everything felt new and large and strange. The British wore shoes indoors, even though our rooms—like all the other rooms—were carpeted, and even the bathroom had a working gas lamp. I desperately wished that Anu and my father could see all of this. They wouldn’t have believed it.
That evening, at a long table trimmed with fresh evergreens and flickering candles, Wilkes told us not to expect any word from the queen for several days. “Think of all the petitioners who want to see her.”
“But we’ve come from Jhansi. Who else has come all that way?” I said.
Still, there was nothing to do except wait. So over the next few days, we passed the time walking the wet streets of London, admiring the beautifully decorated shops and large Christmas wreaths on wooden doors of houses. One day we walked to the famous Hyde Park. The next day we made our way to Regent Street. We attracted attention wherever we went. Beneath our cloaks, it was impossible to tell we weren’t dressed like Englishmen, but the color of our skin stood out, and also our jewelry. Jhalkari and I were still wearing our nose rings. Arjun still had on his pair of gold hoops.
By the third day, we had all grown very anxious. What if the queen called on us in two months? Or if she didn’t care that we had come at all? But as
we sat down to dinner in the common dining room alongside Major Wilkes and several hotel guests, a very well-dressed messenger arrived.
“From Buckingham Palace,” he announced to the room, and everyone held their breath. Then he unfolded the letter he was carrying and read it aloud.
We were being summoned to court the next day and were to be there at twelve o’clock!
We all let out a cheer. Even the other hotel guests smiled. By six the next morning we were already awake and starting to prepare. Major Wilkes had warned us to adopt Western dress. “The men must put on black suits and white ties, and the women need to dress as proper ladies.” When I had questioned what he meant by “proper ladies,” his cheeks had turned red. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but your waist—I’m afraid that no one has ever seen that body part in the queen’s chambers.”
That might have been true, but we ignored his advice and dressed as we had always intended—in silk saris and kurtas. Jhalkari braided my hair, then I did the same for her, and we both decorated our braids with golden choti, a series of long flowers wrought in twenty-four-karat gold and embellished with rubies and emeralds. When we were finished, we stood in front of the mirror and admired ourselves.
“I don’t even recognize us,” Jhalkari whispered.
It was true. We were a vision of gold and silk, Jhalkari in a sari of red and gold, myself in patterned yellow and purple. Strings of pearls glittered from our necks, and ruby earrings matched our ruby nose rings and thick ruby bracelets. Gold and ruby bells tinkled musically from our ankles. It was a measure of the rani’s trust that she had lent such jewels to us. Truthfully, none of it seemed real. Not our clothes, or our jewels, or the ornately carved mirror hanging from the paneled wall of our hotel.
Outside, waiting in the hall for Major Wilkes, Arjun and the other guards were all dressed as magnificently as maharajas, in gilded kurtas, heavy gold earrings, and elaborate pagris. If you have never seen a pagri, it is a turban adorned with a heavily jeweled sarpech, meant to resemble Krishna’s peacock feather. I gasped when I saw him. He was what Jane Austen would have imagined as “dashing.” None of us were dressed in our heavy cloaks, as apparently, this was not done when meeting the queen. We would have to brave the cold in our thin kurtas and silks.
“You look stunning,” Arjun said to Jhalkari and me.
“As do you,” Jhalkari complimented him.
I gave him a brief smile, but I still couldn’t forget what he’d told Jhalkari on the ship. It had hurt more than I imagined it could, and there was no reason for it. He had never made me any promises of love. We shared books. That was all. I was the one who had daydreamed about something more, something lasting.
When Major Wilkes appeared, he frowned at our attire but held his tongue, and we were taken to the carriages. Our second view of Buckingham Palace was no less impressive than the first. We rolled up to the gates, and I tried to quiet my nerves as the major spoke with the guards. Their accents were difficult to understand, but they all seemed to be laughing, which seemed to be a good sign. Then the gates were thrown open to us and suddenly, we were inside.
Servants opened our carriage doors, and faces pressed against the tall windows of the palace, their owners straining to get a better view. And as we entered the plush halls of the queen’s residence, everyone stopped to stare. The servants and the courtiers watched us as we went. We were all too busy looking at the furnishings to take much notice. We passed beneath endless chandeliers into an empty drawing room where a servant instructed us to have seats on the plush velvet chairs. Everywhere we looked were rich carpets, carved banisters, and gilded wall hangings.
“We wait here until we’re formally summoned into Her Majesty’s Presence Chamber,” Major Wilkes said.
We’d arrived more than an hour early. Finally, at twelve in the afternoon, a very tall man who looked tremendously grave announced to the room, “Her Majesty, The Queen invites you to meet with her in Her Majesty’s Presence Chamber.”
All of us rose, feeling as nervous as convicts about to be summoned before a judge. I squeezed Jhalkari’s hand and she squeezed back. I made a small prayer to Ganesh, the remover of obstacles. “Please just let this go smoothly,” I begged him.
Chapter Twenty-One
We approached the throne just as we would approach the rani’s in Jhansi, and when we reached the dais, we bowed our heads and folded our hands in respectful gestures of namaste. We were standing in pairs, Jhalkari and I first, followed by Arjun and a guard named Manoj, then the rest of the guards. And I can only imagine how we looked to Queen Victoria at that moment: barefooted and dressed in elaborate silks in the dead of winter, wearing nose rings and adorned with peacock feathers.
“I have never seen the like,” Queen Victoria said as she rose from her throne, descending three velvet steps to stand before us. She was a small woman, with round cheeks and a very plump figure. Her husband remained seated.
“You are one of the queen’s female warriors?” she asked me.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
She was staring at me, as if she found this hard to believe. “You are able to protect her as well as these men standing behind you?”
“I believe so.”
“How?”
“By using my weapons. And if necessary, my words. Today, my words are all that I have, and I am here to ask that you protect the rani’s kingdom.”
The queen turned to her husband, then back to me. “You speak English quite well.”
“I learned from my father, who was a soldier in Burma with the Company.”
She looked at Jhalkari, then back at the men who stood behind us. I knew they were averting their gazes, on account of her very low dress. “I want to speak with you and this other woman alone,” she said.
“I’m afraid she does not speak English, Your Majesty. The man behind me is the captain of the rani’s guards, and he speaks English as well as I do.”
“Everyone else, then, is dismissed,” she announced.
I explained her command to Jhalkari, who led the guards back out the way they’d come.
The queen called for two chairs, and Arjun and I waited side by side while they were fetched. He looked at me, and there was a deep respect in his eyes. When the chairs arrived, we were seated beneath Their Majesties. They both took several moments to look us over. Then the queen shook her head again and said, “Extraordinary. Do all the women in India dress as you are?”
“Yes. But with fewer jewels,” I said.
“And the men?” Prince Albert wanted to know. His voice was thickly accented; I knew his first language was German.
“I am wearing a traditional kurta,” Arjun said. “This is what we wear on great occasions.”
“You are also well spoken. I’m exceptionally pleased that the rani has sent you. How did you like the journey to London?”
I glanced at Arjun to see which one of us should speak first. He nodded toward me, and I said, “Your Majesty has a beautiful country, particularly the churches.”
“And what did you like best?” she asked Arjun.
“The rolling hills spotted with sheep.”
The queen smiled. “And now you have come to see me.”
“Yes. We have come on behalf of Rani Lakshmibai,” I said, “who is looking to have the throne of Jhansi restored.”
The queen nodded heavily. “Tell me about her. What does she look like? How many children does she have?”
I found it difficult to believe that the Queen of all of England didn’t know these things, since we had learned nearly all there was to learn about her, from her birthday in May to her third child’s name.
But Arjun began, “The rani is extremely beautiful. She had one child, who died before his first birthday, and has adopted another.”
This interested the queen. “Why? Was her husband incapable of more children?”
&n
bsp; I glanced at Arjun, and we were both struck dumb.
“I’ve heard rumors he dressed in women’s clothes.”
So she had heard about Jhansi. “Yes,” I admitted.
She gave a triumphant look to the prince.
“The people of Jhansi fear living under Company rule,” I said, guiding the conversation back to the rani. “They wish to keep their customs and way of life. If Her Majesty would agree to help another queen in need, it would mean a great deal to our people.”
The queen said, “Come to dinner tonight. All of you. And after, you will have an answer.”
We bowed and prepared ourselves to leave, when suddenly she said, “Wait! I have something I want to show you.” She was smiling like a child. Next to her, the prince frowned. “Bout,” she said.
Then he smiled, too, and a servant was summoned and instructed to bring Bout.
Arjun and I exchanged a quick glance. Was it a type of food? But when the man returned, he was leading a massive canine by a leash.
“Bout!” the prince called, and the enormous dog went bounding toward him. The queen laughed as the canine made its way up the dais. I believed this was a very good sign.
“A Tibetan mastiff. A gift from Lord Harding, my governor-general of India,” the queen said. “Are all dogs this giant in India?” she asked. “Lord Harding tells me tales that are difficult to believe; that everything in India is abundant—the spices, the palaces, the gods.”
“I’m afraid he is exaggerating, Your Majesty.”
Prince Albert buried his face in the dog’s coat and patted its back.
“Well then, we look forward to seeing you tonight,” the queen said, and it was clear we were dismissed. She was cooing the mastiff’s name as we left.
We left the Presence Chamber and each hall we passed through was more lavish than the last. Great stone fireplaces burned rich cedar wood that perfumed the halls, but no smoke was filling the rooms, as would have happened back home. Somehow, it was sucked up into the air. The mirrors we passed were hung with garlands of fresh evergreen, and everywhere, there were bright sprigs of holly, part of their Christmas traditions.
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