Veils of Silk by Mary Jo Putney

Author:Mary Jo Putney
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: ePublishing Works!
Published: 2011-07-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

The small room behind the purdah curtain was decorated with a richness that would have made Aladdin's cave seem plain, and the air was redolent of a complex, haunting perfume that implied both innocence and age-old wisdom. Yet it was the woman sitting calmly on the cushioned divan who made Laura catch her breath in wonder. She must be the maharani, and she was the quintessence of eastern loveliness, with dusky skin and huge, dark almond eyes that seemed to see and understand everything. The tiny, starlike gems that spangled her white silk bodice and sari made her look like an Oriental version of the queen of fairyland.

Laura dropped into her deepest curtsy. As she straightened, she searched her mind desperately for the correct etiquette for dealing with royalty. If she made a mistake, would she and Ian be tossed into the nearest dungeon and forgotten? Asiatic rulers could be an arbitrary lot. Deciding that basic courtesy was a good start, she joined her hands and bowed her head. "Namaste."

With a delighted smile, the woman in white returned the greeting, then said in painstaking English, "I am Maharani Kamala. I am wanting to welcome you to Manpur, Lady Falkirk."

"Thank you, Your Highness." Laura wondered if she should say more. It was royalty's right to lead the conversation.

Kamala tilted her head to one side, her torrent of ebony hair shimmering beneath her transparent veil. "You are most lovely, Lady Falkirk, but not in the usual way of Britishers. More, more..." With a twinkling of gold bangle bracelets, she waved her hand as she searched for a word.

Switching to Persian, Laura said, "In fact I am not British but of Russian blood. Your Highness, with some Tartar ancestry."

The maharani's face brightened. "Ah, you speak my language beautifully, Lady Falkirk," she said in Persian. "My husband wishes me to learn English and I have been studying it for some time, but I have much to learn."

Gracefully she indicated a cushioned footstool. "Pray take a seat. Another day we might converse in English so that I can practice, but now it is a pleasure to speak freely. Though I have longed to make the acquaintance of a lady of your nation, few of your countrywomen come to Dharjistan, and I've never met one who spoke Persian well."

"It will be my pleasure to answer your questions, Your Highness." Laura soundlessly crossed the thick carpet, then seated herself. "But pray forgive me if I make an error in court etiquette, for I am unfamiliar with the ways of royalty."

The maharani gave a delightful laugh. "I shall take that into account, but you need not worry. I am not easily offended." She was even lovelier close up, with delicate features like a Michelangelo Madonna. "What brings you to Dharjistan?"

Remembering that the exchange in the durbar room had been in English, Laura said, "My uncle, a Russian colonel called Pyotr Andreyovich Kushutkin, left his personal effects in the keeping of your husband. Since he is dead, I am here in his place.

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