Twilight 0f Memory (Historical Regency Romance)

by Patricia Watters

  CHAPTER 12

  Two days later the gypsies arrived for the horse fair. On the fringes of the encampment, Elizabeth stood beside Damon, watching a herd of goats being driven by a retinue of ragtag children from the fields, where the animals had been grazing for the night, toward an enclave of carts and wagons in the clearing. The encampment smelled of burnt cow dung mingled with chapattis frying on griddles and curries cooking in pots hanging over coals. Near the fires, women dressed in worn bodices and faded parti-colored skirts, sat on the ground making baskets and mats of osier and bamboo, while gaudily dressed men with peacock feathers in their turbans loaded donkey carts with goods to sell at the fair.

  Elizabeth again wore the garb of a gypsy—ropes of chains around her neck, faded and worn skirt and blouse—garments she'd purchased at the bazaar. She didn't expect to be welcomed back into the kumpania, but she did want to blend in and not be pegged a gorgio. She was annoyed that Damon insisted on accompanying her, and she wished he'd leave and let her get on with what she had to do. Turning to him, she said in a hushed voice, "If they see you with me I'll never get the answers I need."

  Damon eyed her with vexation. "And if the man who killed my gateman and took the opal from you recognizes you, he'll never let you get away. It's not safe for you alone."

  "I was alone before we met and I did fine."

  "As my wife, I have an obligation to protect you. After our marriage is dissolved you'll be your father's responsibility."

  Elizabeth shook off that disturbing thought, not so much the thought of being her father's responsibility again and the ramifications of facing the ridicule of London society as a failed wife, but that Damon viewed her as nothing more than an obligation. "After I recover the opal and become mistress of Shanti Bhavan I'll no longer be any man's responsibility."

  Damon curved his hands around her arms, the first time he'd touched her since the night of the masquerade ball, and peered into her eyes. "Is that what you really want, Elizabeth, to never be any man's responsibility, to never be a wife or mother?"

  As Elizabeth held his gaze she was filled with a sense of loneliness. The fact was, she didn't know what she wanted, only what she didn't want. She didn't want to be wedded to a man who took his pleasure from a string of mistresses, and she didn't want to give birth to children, only to have a disgruntled husband take them from her, should he want out of the marriage. Her own mother had been cast out by her father, who sent their only child to England so there would be no chance of contact. But maybe once she held title to Shanti Bhavan she could think beyond the feeling of being trapped. For now, she nodded, and said, "Yes, that's what I want."

  "Then you'd better get on with it." Damon dropped his hands to his sides.

  Elizabeth clutched her arms where he'd held her, maybe to hold his warmth, she wasn't sure. She also wondered if living as an independent woman of means was what she wanted...

  But of course it was. She'd be no man's puppet, share no man's bed, have no husband wrapped around her. Nor would she feel masculine hands touching private places to incite a pleasure she'd almost come to know, brief as it was.

  Quickly dismissing those disturbing thoughts, she said, "This won't take long. I saw the tribal chief go into his wagon. I'll talk to him and see what I can learn about the opal." She made her way along the fringes of the encampment to Istvan Czinka's wagon and rapped lightly.

  Istvan opened the door, looked at her with displeasure, and said in a curt voice, "What you want posh-rat?"

  "To talk to you," Elizabeth replied.

  He eyed her, warily. "Talk about what?"

  "The Kalki-Avatar."

  Istvan took her by the arm and pulled her into the wagon, closing the door behind. Eyes dark as night peered down at her. "What about Kalki-Avatar?"

  "Three years ago I recovered it from Lord Ravencroft as I had been instructed, but when I left the house with it, Januz Kazinczy took it from me. He also killed Lord Ravencroft's gateman with my knife to make it look like I'd done it. I assume he returned the talisman to the tribe."

  Istvan shook his head. "Januz Kazinczy found on road close by, strangled by Kalla-bantrus. They take Kalki-Avatar."

  Elizabeth stared at Istvan, unblinking, while trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Januz Kazinczy had fallen prey to gypsies known for their heinous acts of thievery and murder. And the irony. She would have been the one to fall prey to those same Kalla-bantrus had Januz not relieved her of the opal, but by absconding on Januz's horse, she left him to suffer that fate. "Do you know who has the opal now?" she asked.

  Istvan gave a snort of derision. "Kalla-bantrus sell it to Rashid Ali Khan. He have fighting horse that descend from horse of King Nasir ud Din Haidar. During Rathayatra, he have feast where he offer Kalki-Avatar to any with tiger that can defeat fighting horse."

  Elizabeth didn't bother to ask how Istvan knew all this. However, it troubled her that Rashid Ali Khan had the opal. Everyone knew about his cruel nature and brutal animal fights. The opulent lifestyle he led in his palatial compound above the Hugli River was common knowledge. But learning Rashid Ali Khan had the opal, and gaining access to it or even making her way into his compound, were different matters, especially with less than a week to make plans.

  Not expecting an answer, but hoping to glean information, she said, "Will the opal be on display during the feast?"

  Istvan nodded. "Rashid Ali Khan to have bearers bring it out on palanquin for all to see. He claim Kalki-Avatar hold spirit of fighting horse so no harm come to it." He eyed her dubiously. "Why you ask about tribal talisman, posh-rat?"

  Elizabeth realized she'd crossed the bounds of casual questioning. Attempting to cover her blunder, she shrugged and said, "No reason. I just wondered how greatly Rashid Ali Khan prized the Kalki-Avatar. It seems it could disappear easily in a crowd like that."

  Istvan said nothing. And Elizabeth had her answer. The opal would be there for all to see, and for the gypsies to recover, especially as the night waned and feast-goers began to feel the effects of the opium available for all.

  Somehow she'd have to find her way into the compound and retrieve the gem before Istvan's contact would. Rashid Ali Khan was certain to have entertainment preceding the animal fights, but once the fighting would begin all eyes would be riveted on the horse and tiger—one chance to take the opal—but only if she got to it before Istvan's contact did, and there was no way of knowing who that person would be.

  "You go posh-rat. Stay away from feast."

  "I have no intention of going there," Elizabeth lied. "I did my part so I thought the Kris Romani would allow me back into the tribe."

  As soon as she said the words she realized how ludicrous they were. She'd been gone three years, then out of the blue, she's back asking about the opal. Her hope now was that he wouldn't ascertain her true reason for seeking information. He was a master at doing that.

  "You bring bad luck, posh-rat. You banished." Istvan opened the wagon door for her to leave and she slipped past him and went to rejoin Damon at the fringes of the encampment.

  After she relayed to Damon what she'd learned, Damon said, "It's over then. You won't be going there. I'll find a way to get the opal back on my own."

  Elizabeth braced her hands on her hips, eyes glinting with ire. "We made a bargain. Are you going back on your word?"

  Damon looked at the beautiful, angry face of this wife he'd strapped himself with, a wife he now wanted to have and to hold until… he wasn't sure when. But he knew he couldn't let her take such a risk. "It's dangerous to even be in the vicinity of Rashid Ali Khan's compound, much less get inside. I can't let you do it."

  "Then you'll have to lock me up until our agreement runs out," Elizabeth hissed.

  "With less than a week to go that could be arranged," Damon replied, frustrated with her tenacity, determined she would not get her way this time.

  "Then the room better not have doors or windows or I'll find a way out, just as I'll find a way inside Rashid
Ali Khan's compound and get the opal."

  Resisting the urge to shake her senseless, or kiss her into compliance, Damon said, "If you think you can bare a shoulder to Rashid Ali Khan or raise your skirt to show an ankle and gain entry that way, you'll find him a much more clever and cunning man that me, and if he learns what you're about he'll take what he wants from you without mercy."

  Elizabeth lifted her chin a notch. "Then I'll take my chances."

  Damon held her unwavering gaze, wondering why this exasperating scrap of a woman had such power over him now. "Is there nothing I can say or do to stop you?"

  Elizabeth cocked her head. "Yes, give me title to Shanti Bhavan."

  "I can't do that. Without the opal I'll have to sell the place in order to get the money to clear my name and restore Westwendham to bare living conditions."

  "Then I have no choice but to go after the opal."

  Damon gave a weary sigh. "Then we'd better come up with a plan."

  Elizabeth looked at him, baffled. "We?"

  Damon shrugged. "There's no way on God's earth I'll let you do this alone."

  ***

  Elizabeth spent the week roaming through the bazaar while dressed in various disguises—a beggar, a street urchin, a young footman, a gypsy sitting in the bazaar selling clay pots. Although the city was gearing up for Rathayatra, she managed to gather a plethora of information about Prince Rashid Ali Khan. And Damon spent his time either at the club, or questioning gem dealers, most of whom had an intimate knowledge of everything that went on, including the layout of Rashid Ali Khan's compound.

  As part of their plan, Damon paid a gem artisan a sizeable amount of money to fashion a bogus Burning of Troy to switch with the real one when the time came.

  By the end of the week, between the two of them, Elizabeth and Damon were able to put together a diagram of the layout of the prince's compound. The prince kept his fighting horse in its own iron fenced compound, where fodder was thrown over the fence from a distance. It was said the horse was so vicious it would kill any handler or animal it could get to, then trample and mutilate it until it was unrecognizable, so it was imperative that they stay clear of that area.

  The feast would begin in early afternoon with dancers, jugglers and other entertainers. Afterwards, bearers would bring the opal out on a palanquin, parade it past the bleacher for all to see, and place it on display in front of the prince until the animal fights were over, when a winner would be announced. Rashid Ali Khan did not present the opal as either the Burning of Troy or the Kalki-Avatar, so they assumed he had no knowledge of what he had, other than the largest, most brilliant opal ever to come into his possession, a stone, they were certain, he had no intention of losing. Fireworks, feasting, passing of opium pipes, and more entertainment would follow the fights and continue into the night. But well before then, Elizabeth and Damon would be gone, with the opal in their possession.

  They also learned things about the prince that made Elizabeth's flesh crawl. The man derived gratification from forcing animals to fight to their deaths, witnessing with prurient pleasure, the bloodshed from the savage combat. As during other such occasions, the prince and his guests would watch the cruel spectacle from the bleacher while passing around opium pipes and feasting on the most sumptuous of delicacies.

  The key to succeeding was patience, something she'd learned when living with the gypsies. Then she remembered that there would be at least one other gypsy attending the feast for the same reason as she, so ultimately, it would come down to which of them was the cleverest, and which had the most patience.

  Two days before Rathayatra, which was also less than a week before Elizabeth's agreement with Damon would run out, Damon picked up the bogus stone from the artisan who'd prepared it. He gave the man a bonus because he'd done such a masterful job of grinding a piece of near-transparent quartz into a stone the size of the Burning of Troy, then injecting dyes into tiny holes drilled into its core and sealing the holes with wax. Unless the stone could be viewed closely, and in bright daylight, the fake opal would not be detected. Luckily, Rashid Ali Khan's feast would take place at night, and in torchlight.

  ***

  Crouching in the shadows beside Damon, Elizabeth watched the vehicles as they pulled up to the side entrance to Rashid Ali Khan's compound. When the moment would be right, they'd slip inside. Ironically, they wore the garb of pirate king and gypsy queen they'd worn to the masquerade ball, costumes that would enable them to gain entry with the other entertainers. So far their plan was working, but Elizabeth refused to dwell on how many things could go wrong.

  Damon took her hand and said, "Let's go in with this group." Rising from their crouched positions in the shadows of the surrounding woods, they fell in step with the entourage that had exited several carts and wagons and were funneling into the compound.

  Elizabeth held Damon's hand tightly, partly because she didn't want to be separated from him during the rush of performers making their way into the enclosure, but mostly because, for the first time since she'd parroted vows that bound her legally to Damon, it felt right to hold his hand. She had no explanation for it though. Nothing had occurred to change things since their heated exchange at dinner two weeks before, and she'd also made her feelings clear about where they stood when she came out of Istvan Czinka's wagon, so perhaps their mutual accord had more to do with their common goal and the danger they'd face together to attain that goal than some kind of latent romantic feelings for each other.

  While they waited in the corridor with the other entertainers, Elizabeth moved in front of Damon so she could see what was happening. For a few minutes he stood behind her, saying nothing, but she knew he was close because she could feel his breath wafting against the top of her head. Then his arms came around her from behind, closing together over her stomach, and he said against her ear, "Whatever happens here tonight, know that I care for you."

  Uncertain how to respond to his unexpected words, she replied with humor. "To make sure nothing does happen, we'd better find the palanquin bearers so I can get out of this costume or I might start behaving like a gypsy queen again."

  Damon tightened his arms around her. "At least I don't have to compete with any other pirate kings tonight."

  It came to Elizabeth that their verbal sparring no longer had the caustic edge as before. Placing her hands over his, she tipped her head back, and said, "Does that mean you're giving me permission to behave like a gypsy queen?"

  Damon kissed the side of her face. "No, it means I'm giving you permission to behave like a wife, someone to cherish."

  Elizabeth said nothing. The change in the dynamics of their liaison was foreign to her, and she wasn't sure she was ready to assume the role of wife, if that's truly what Damon was implying. It could just be a ploy to help get her through a stressful night. And in the end, it was the opal Damon was after, not a wife. It had been less than two weeks since he'd reminded her that mistresses didn't make demands on a man, and if they did, they could be replaced.

  She also knew if Damon ever did take a wife to have and to hold she'd be a woman whose lineage would make her suitable for bearing the heir and offspring of Lord Edmund Carlisle, Earl of Westwendham, a title Damon would, in time, acquire.

  Damon gave her a nudge and they moved with the entertainers out of the long corridor and into a large room where it appeared they were to wait. Some lowered themselves to the floor, while others practiced their acts.

  Taking Elizabeth's arm, Damon ushered her to a dusky corner, and said, "Some of the entertainers are going into the enclosure now, so it won't be long before the prince will be ready for the palanquin bearers. They should be waiting close to where the animals will be released, so we'd better make our way there."

  "We also need to get there before Istvan Czinka's contact does, although I have no idea who in this crowd that is." Elizabeth scanned the faces and costumes for someone with swarthy skin and gold glittering from an ear, but what caught her notice was a small, hideo
us man with a gaunt body draped in a dhoti, a head wrapped in a red turban, and owlish eyes with a gaze that kept returning to her. A Bengal monkey wearing a small red hat sat at the man's feet while studying an object held between his tiny palms. When his master raised a hand and snapped his fingers, the monkey dutifully passed the object up to him.

  Elizabeth also noted a snake charmer with a caged mongoose and a covered basket that would contain a cobra. The man had a certain look, a determined set to his mouth, intense eyes that appeared to be taking in everything around him. Istvan might have sent both men, but she recognized neither.

  Damon looked at her with concern. "Is something wrong?"

  Elizabeth told him about the two men, but when she turned to point them out, the red-turbaned man with the monkey was gone, but the snake charmer was in plain view, sitting cross-legged on the floor, prepared to lift the lid on his basket. "If the cobra gets out, I'm carrying a vial of serpentina," she said. "I knew we'd be going through heavy undergrowth to get down to the river afterwards, and since snakes are always on the roam looking for water during the dry season, they're likely to be in the brush near the river. But the man with the snake could also be working for Istvan Czinka, with the snake intended to be a distraction later."

  "I hope it doesn't come to taking serpentina," Damon said. "The effects of that are almost as bad as the snakebite. Where are you carrying the vial?"

  Elizabeth patted her chest. "It's tied to the lacings on my chemise."

  Damon looked across the crowd. "We'd better find the bearers and get on with things, but we need to figure out where we are first." He opened a folded paper he'd taken from the pocket of his breeches and pointed to a large room. "We're here, so if we go down this corridor we should come to several rooms opening onto the area that runs in front of the bleacher. The bearers should be in one of these rooms."

  Watching until the time was right, they made their way toward what was obviously the corridor, as indicated on the diagram. As was their luck, the long dark passageway was unlit, and they were able to negotiate the shadowy passageway silently, and unnoticed. When they came to the end, they found one room cast in dim light. Just inside, the palanquin bearers sat at a small table, passing an opium pipe back and forth. On the floor off to the side, a palanquin padded in dark red velvet held an ornate glass box encrusted in jewels, which undoubtedly contained the opal. The men were unaware of being watched.