Page 56 of A Shimla Affair
‘You look very beautiful,’ he said, and I gazed down at the sari that I wore. The red sari that had felt beautiful earlier suddenly seemed to be a symbol of my deceit.
‘With some ruby red slippers, you could almost play Dorothy,’ he said, now with a smile. I had to smile back too.
‘She was always right. There is no place like home.’
His eyes lingered on me for a couple of seconds before he turned to Eliza and walked on.
I looked at Afreen, sick with worry.
She held my hand. ‘What are you afraid of?’
That Charles would not just find out about my big betrayal, but he might see it in action. That it would leave no doubt in his mind that I had used his friendship, his company and his love, for an agenda—an agenda that threatened his very existence in Shimla, in the world.
‘Courage, sister,’ Afreen said. ‘Let nothing falter you in your goal.’
I found this courage in the next moment when Lord Beeson entered the foyer, a smug look on his face. He arrived with Lord Fraser and barely glanced at us as he walked past. I had to marvel at how he conducted himself. If he ever made it to Hollywood, he would be the finest actor in the world. He held his hands behind his back, looking around, likely commenting on what could be done with the hotel once we were forced to give it up.
And finally, the Viceroy arrived. The music stopped, and a hush fell over the foyer, preparing for his entrance. His wife was next to him, a mousy, little creature looking around with distaste. And behind them, was likely Wagner. At first glance, Wagner didn’t seem as menacing as Guruji had made him out to be; he was a head shorter than the Viceroy, and not particularly muscular. But looking at him gave me the chills: he had a hard-set jaw, discerning eyes and a deceptive ease about him that made me want to create as much distance between us as possible.
When they reached us, my sisters and I bent forward in a practised curtsy.
‘Welcome to the Royal Hotel Shimla, Your Excellency,’ Noor said. ‘It is a real honour to have you with us tonight.’
‘Pleasure to be here,’ he said briskly. He was so tall it felt as if he was born to be a Viceroy, for he could literally look down on people.
Guruji arrived with a tray of champagne glasses. As the Viceroy took a glass from the tray, he didn’t even look in the direction of where Guruji stood. Could Guruji believe it himself—the man that he dreamt of killing was, against all odds, within inches of him, that he had just taken a drink from his hands? Fate was a funny thing, and all of us would see it rear its ugly head tonight.
Thankfully, Wagner didn’t seem to exhibit any suspicion about Guruji, and I breathed in relief once they had crossed us.
‘There are three guards outside,’ Noor whispered to us, ‘two inside, and Wagner. There could be a couple near his car perhaps, or three; I will ask Khushilalji to check.’
Now that the Viceroy was here, the ball could formally begin. I spotted Lady Sinclair amongst a group of guests, her back turned to the Viceroy, standing straight and stiff. While the others’ eyes all followed the Viceroy, she looked away pointedly. I went up to greet her—it was important she stayed in a good mood, and even more important she stayed in the right mood.
Noor came up behind me and whispered, ‘You have to open the ball with the Viceroy.’
‘Me? Why? I can’t—’
‘Nalini, you must. His wife doesn’t want to, and as the host we are next in line. You are the most natural choice among us, being the youngest, and you dance the best.’
There was no chance for me to give in to fear. Once the Viceroy had emptied his glass, most people backed off, leaving the space where he stood clear. I walked towards him slowly, looking a lot more comfortable than I felt.
My shoes were the only thing in the room that made any sound. He was much taller than me, and he held out his hand asI extended mine. From so close, I could count his freckles and see that his eyes were green and grey. The Viceroy smiled, and I smiled back; the dance had begun.
The opening waltz was the Blue Danube and the Viceroy kept his head high as we moved in formal tandem, performing for those around us. He cast a sweeping look at the guests who surrounded us.
He looked down on me, and said quietly, ‘Do you know, the first choral version of this waltz was written when Austria lost the war in the last century, with Prussia? They will lose again.’
And so will you, I wanted to say, but he would know it soon enough.
‘Why, Miss Mistry, you not just look like, but also dance like a proper lady,’ he said. I smiled nervously, as if flattered, and said whatever I thought would make him feel important.
I told him he looked so handsome and intimidating I could barely sleep all night, knowing I would have to be up here, dancing with him. That I had always admired the British and their ways, and how India couldn’t possibly manage on its own. There was a hopeful rush in my voice, and I could see that it was working, as his gaze grew more and more indulgent, his touch now light and smooth, instead of the stiffness it had held before.
‘Indians are not without their charm, however,’ he said, almost in a whisper, leaning forward. I caught a glimpse of Charles on the edge of the dance floor, watching us closely. ‘I have heard about some gatherings you have here, in the hotel, with some very quality … storytelling.’
‘You will have a chance to find out yourself, Sir,’ I said, glad that he was making our job tonight easier. ‘Our father indeed produced quality product, and the best opium is bound to bring out the best stories. The temptations of both are not to be missed, Sir.’
He smiled as the waltz finished, and I bent forward in a curtsy, turning around to see Charles waiting for me, his arm already extended for the next dance.
