Daisy's Long Road Home Read online

  ‘I owe you my life, Daisy. Don’t you think I don’t remember that every single day? You’re brave, you’re determined, you’re loyal—up to a point. But if push comes to shove, it’s what you want that will count. And with this obsession of yours, push does come to shove fairly frequently, doesn’t it? And this time, we’re talking a matter of life and death.’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ she said desperately. ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘I never do, according to you. But what I do understand is that you’re prepared to act as selfishly as you choose. So selfishly that you’ll endanger not just your own life but others’ too.’

  She had never seen him so furious. His jaw was rigid and in the muted light his blue eyes were the darkest of navy, glinting and angry. She was forced to concede then that she had done a very stupid thing and the fight went out of her.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. I was so sure that I would find something.’

  She must have been in the grip of madness, she thought, to think she could rifle the Rajah’s sanctuary and not be discovered. Even to think she could uncover any kind of clue.

  ‘But you didn’t find anything, did you? And just suppose you had.’ His voice was quiet but brittle. ‘Is that more important than finding Javinder, than saving Javinder?’

  ‘No,’ she mumbled miserably.

  ‘That’s what it amounts to, doesn’t it? You’ve put your own concerns before a young man’s safety and, to add insult to injury, you found nothing.’

  She had found nothing and her heart ached for it.

  ‘I’m going back to bed.’ He began untying the robe he’d worn. ‘There’s little point in doing much else. Whatever plan I had is in tatters. From now on, they’ll be watching us every minute of the day and night.’

  And without as much as a glance at her, he stalked into the adjoining room, leaving her staring at the closed door. The servants wouldn’t be gossiping after all, she thought forlornly. She was filled with sorrow, her legs weak, her feet shuffling into the bedroom they’d shared just an hour ago. The outline of his body was still there in the sheets, the pillows that had nursed his head still dented. The most abject misery gripped her. It was as though the ribbon of her life had unspooled and, in that instant, been wiped blank. The quest, the obsession—and Grayson was right, the need to discover her history had become an obsession—had died an abrupt death. Why had she thought it so very important?

  At eight o’ clock the next morning, their escort was back, this time to deliver them to the top storey of the palace where it seemed they were expected to take breakfast. They were ushered into a room far less ornate than last night’s arched and bejewelled chamber, but still airy and spacious, with a wall of glass doors leading out onto the palace roof. From this height the panorama of houses and fields and distant mountains was stunning. Or would have been stunning if either of them had had the desire to look. Grayson had barely spoken to her since he’d walked into the sitting room five minutes before the servant knocked. He’d been tight-lipped and anxious to be on his way. Their lovemaking had faded from sight; it seemed to have happened in another life, a life before his plans had been destroyed. She felt sick inside. He blamed her entirely for the catastrophe and he was right. She had been utterly selfish in pursuit of her goal, infected last night by a kind of lunacy that had blotted from view every rational strand of thought. How could she have behaved that foolishly? She had let him down so badly that it was difficult to imagine they would ever find their way back to each other.

  Talin Verghese was already seated at the long, wooden table, his carved chair this morning only a little less throne-like. He did not rise to greet them.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Driscoll, Mr Harte. You find us already at breakfast.’

  His expression was impenetrable, giving no sign that he was aware of the night’s events. She knew, of course, that he must be. A young man was seated at his right hand. Dark hair and eyes were set off by a robe of pure white, the only splash of colour being the long waistcoat he wore, embroidered in blue and silver thread. He came forward to shake their hands.

  ‘You must meet my son, Adeep.’ From the table, the Rajah waved a languid hand towards the trio.

  The boy flashed a smile that encompassed them both, then offered his hand to Grayson. ‘I am most honoured to meet you, Mr Harte. I trust you slept well?’ His expression was friendly, that of a host eager for his guests’ comfort.

  ‘Very well, thank you,’ Grayson replied gravely. Neither of them would give a thing away, Daisy thought. Unlike her. Secret intelligence was a poker game and she had never been good at cards.

  ‘And this is your delightful companion, I believe,’ the boy was saying. ‘Miss Driscoll, may I welcome you to Sikaner?’

  ‘Thank you.’ Her smile barely reached her lips.

  He held out his hand to her and, as he did so, she saw the ring. She stared at the small circular object, hardly believing what she was looking at. A frantic urge engulfed her, an urge to take the hand and hug it close, as though in that way she would ensure she was seeing right. She stared again and was convinced, and the knowledge almost made her heart stop. The evidence she’d sought for so long was here. Not in Verghese’s study, not at the Suris’ house. But here, on this boy’s finger. She clung to his hand for far too long, her gaze buried deep in the ring. There was a singing in her ears, a blur to her vision. Only gradually did she become aware of Adeep’s quizzical expression and dropped his hand abruptly.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She flushed a bright red. ‘But the ring. It’s truly beautiful.’

  ‘I’m glad you like it. I believe it was actually made in England, which seems quite strange to me. But I understand the British are fascinated by Indian mythology, so perhaps it is not so strange. The ring is inexpensive, of course—a trinket only—but it means a great deal to me. It was my dear father who gave it, and I wear it all the time.’

  ‘Then the ring is indeed valuable,’ she managed, recovering herself a little.

  ‘And for all kinds of reasons, Miss Driscoll. You see it belonged to my dead brother, Karan, a man I never knew.’

  ‘I understand.’

  And she did understand, quite clearly. The ring was valuable to the boy, not because he had known and liked Karan Verghese, nor because Karan was a supposed brother or half-brother, but because the humble ornament was a symbol of power. The ring had belonged to the heir to Sikaner and now Adeep wore it.

  But the ring meant more to her, so much more. Her mind tossed and turned with the advent of this amazing discovery. Amazing indeed—and then the full implication of what she’d seen broke over her. She felt her chest contract so tightly that she could hardly breathe. It can’t be true, her mind was saying, but it had to be. There was no other explanation. And it explained so much.

  ‘Grayson.’ She twitched at his shirt. Whether or not they were speaking, she had to tell him this most momentous of news. But he was not paying attention. Instead, he was looking over her head at the figure who had just entered the room.

  ‘While we are busy with introductions, it is right that you should meet Adeep’s very dear friend,’ the Rajah said smoothly. ‘May I present Dalip Suri.’

  Daisy stared incredulously at the man coming towards them. It was Dalip Suri. How could that be? She had last seen him in the village where they’d stopped to buy fruit, but there had been no further sighting of him and she’d assumed—they’d both assumed—that his appearance there had been coincidental after all, and that he must now be safely back in Jasirapur. They had been very wrong.

  ‘Dalip has been travelling with my son,’ the older Verghese drawled. ‘They are very close, almost like brothers.’ His smile was slyly satisfied. ‘And he brings us news. But you will know much of what he has told me. I believe you have met before, in somewhat difficult circumstances.’

  She felt Grayson stiffen beside her. ‘We have, Your Highness,’ he said curtly. ‘But “difficult” is not the word I would use
to describe our encounter. Murderous would be nearer the mark.’

  ‘So I understand. You must allow me to apologise for the discomfort you were caused. And apologise, too, to your fair companion. Your little contretemps with Dalip was by way of being a misunderstanding, but you above all people, Mr Harte, will know that at times—what is the saying in English?—needs must.’ He paused, looking slowly around the room, a sardonic smile lighting his face. ‘As indeed, they must this morning.’

  He nodded across their heads at the two men standing at either side of the door. It was only then that Daisy realised they were not the servants she had seen last night. They were large, very large, and the Rajah’s livery had been exchanged for rough, workmanlike clothes. At their master’s signal, they advanced into the room and grabbed Grayson and herself by the arms. In alarm, she glanced across at her companion, but his eyes were fixed straight ahead, never wavering from their host’s face. The two younger men had retreated to stand together beside the Rajah’s chair. Daisy saw them exchange a covert smirk.

  ‘You would do well to accompany my men quietly,’ Talin Verghese warned, his gaze locked with Grayson’s. ‘But do not fear you will go hungry. You will still enjoy breakfast, but you will enjoy it elsewhere.’

  They had no alternative but to comply. Two more retainers, equally burly, were waiting for them outside the room and they were marched unceremoniously across the marble landing to the staircase she had seen earlier, a staircase that led down to the servants’ quarters and beyond. The little troupe wound its way downwards, from floor to floor, until they reached what Daisy decided must be dungeon level. If so, the Rajah was keeping few prisoners for a deathly quiet filled the air, the only sound the echo of their footsteps on the cold, hard stone. A damp haze hung a few feet above the floor and even in the dim light she could see that the granite walls leaked water. They turned the corner into a narrow passage, flanked on either side by small cells, every one of them bolted and barred. One of the men produced a large iron key and opened the door at the far end of the passage. He pushed them none too gently ahead of him into the confined space.

  She looked around aghast. Through the murk, she could make out the few pieces of furniture: two truckle beds, two hard chairs and a table, which leant drunkenly to one side. High above their heads, a narrow slit in the colossal stonework threw a fragile beam of light around the top section of the room, but had no chance of penetrating the gloom below. A liveried servant pushed past the heavyweights and dumped a tray on the earthen floor. Then the door of the cell clanged shut and the key ground in the lock. The men’s retreating footsteps sounded loud on the flagstones beyond, but steadily grew more distant until at last there was silence. Except for the steady drip of water from somewhere on the outside walls.

  They stood motionless, staring into space, paralysed by this calamitous change of fortune, and stayed there for what seemed an age. Then Grayson lifted the tray from the floor and placed it on the rickety table.

  ‘It’s a good job we ate well last night,’ he said.

  She had refused the unappetising bowl of what appeared to be grey porridge, and he couldn’t blame her. He hoped the next meal would be an improvement or she would waste away. Against the massive walls hemming them around, she looked smaller than usual and even more delicate. She was responsible for their predicament, there was no getting away from it, but seeing her so dazed and hardly able to grasp what had happened, it was difficult to keep his anger hot. And really, what was the point? The deed was done and his chance to save Javinder was over. If he knew Daisy, she would have that on her conscience for a very long time to come. It was punishment enough.

  ‘Here.’ She was still standing in the middle of the room and he dragged one of the hard wooden chairs towards her. ‘I’ve a feeling we’ll be here a considerable time, so you’d better rest.’

  She began to move towards it, then stopped in her tracks as though she felt her body folding beneath her. The shock was taking its toll. He saw her knuckles white as she reached out to grab the chair.

  ‘Better drink this.’ He fetched the jug and earthenware mugs that had been left by their jailers. ‘After that little pantomime, I could knock back a double brandy, but I fear we’ll have to make do with water.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘This is all my fault.’

  He wasn’t going to dispute it but instead said in a bracing tone, ‘Spilt milk. What we must do is to think our way out of this mess. We have to find a plan B.’

  She looked around at the high bare walls, the small grille perched way above them and the barred and locked iron gate. ‘There’s no way out of here. It’s impossible.’

  ‘Nothing is impossible,’ he insisted. ‘We must put our mind to it. We may be too late to help Javinder, but if that wicked old man gets his way, there are other people’s lives at stake. Many other people. There’s a reason why those wretches upstairs have gathered at this time, and why we’ve been incarcerated. Something is about to happen, I’m sure, and, when it does, I need you safely out of the way. Chintu—the boy I mentioned—talked to me of a big evil to come, an evil that was being plotted here. His uncle knew of it and was killed for his knowledge.’

  There was a long silence while both of them considered the terrible possibilities. When at last Daisy spoke, it was clear she had turned away from the dreadful future and retreated to the past.

  ‘Verghese must have tried to grab Anish when his father died,’ she said jerkily, her voice hardly seeming her own, ‘but he met with resistance. Parvati refused to relinquish her son. I bet the Rajah threatened her in some way—he’s quite capable of it—but she must have held fast. In the end, he erased his daughter-in-law and grandson from his life and cut them off without a penny. It was only thanks to Mr Bahndari’s generosity that the two of them survived.’

  ‘And then he took this Adeep as a son and grandson combined. A practical man,’ Grayson said dourly. ‘I wonder where he found him?’

  ‘Maybe Jasirapur. Maybe the Suris suggested it, if the two families were on speaking terms after Karan died. Ramesh Suri would do anything to serve his sister a bad turn. But what are the chances of Adeep making Dalip Suri a friend?’

  ‘I doubt he is.’

  ‘The Rajah said—’

  ‘A lot of things and few of them true. I can’t think Dalip is in Sikaner out of friendship.’

  ‘He’s been travelling with Adeep,’ she reminded him.

  ‘So his father says, but my guess is that Adeep was sent to Jasirapur to summon Dalip here.’

  ‘So you think they were in that village together?’

  ‘It’s more than likely, even though you only saw one of them. No doubt they were checking with their informants to discover how far Verghese’s great secret—whatever it is—might have leaked.’

  ‘I still don’t understand why Dalip was there. If he’s not Adeep’s friend, what has he to do with any of it?’

  CHAPTER 20

  She looked confused. She was no longer a naïve young girl, he thought, but her mind was still innocent. She’d believed the Rajah’s tale of two friends. She believed in people, believed what they told her. That had always been her undoing. For a while, she’d had a total belief in Gerald Mortimer and the stories he’d spun.

  He crouched down beside her chair and took her hands in his. ‘There’s some connection between the Suris and Verghese that goes beyond family. Almost certainly, it isn’t friendship. Dalip Suri has been ordered here because of us. The Rajah will have his own communication channels, you can be sure, and my bet is that he got wind of the questions we were asking in Jasirapur and wanted to discover exactly what we knew.’

  She looked down at him with a stricken expression. ‘It’s all my fault. Not only last night but earlier—in Jasirapur. If I hadn’t gone to the Suri house none of this would have happened.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s true. It’s unlikely it has anything to do with the perfectly innocent questions you asked. The re
ason the Rajah became jittery and ordered Dalip Suri to report here was not because of you, but because of your associates. You were living with SIS officers and therefore suspect. But all you’d done was enquire about a dead woman. That might have ruffled the Suri feathers, but it shouldn’t seriously have bothered Verghese once he knew the score. Remember, he spoke of a misunderstanding? He obviously considers Dalip’s hit and run an overreaction. Particularly as there’s a far greater prize at stake.’

  He straightened up, but not before he’d given her hand a comforting squeeze. ‘I think you’d find if you had stayed in Jasirapur, they would have lost interest in you. It’s our arrival in Sikaner that’s proved a complication. No doubt it’s made the Rajah bring forward whatever horror he’s put together. That would explain the gathering of the coven upstairs. Suri probably had instructions to stop us from getting here, Adeep too no doubt, but they failed. Having us as guests is highly inconvenient—the Rajah would much rather that we’d never made it here. Particularly when we’ve just confirmed every suspicion by poking about in his private domain.’

  ‘You see, it is my fault.’

  ‘It hasn’t helped,’ he admitted. ‘But it was always going to be risky. Don’t forget, I’ve been asking as many questions as you, first in Jasirapur and then here. Yesterday, I tried out several of the servants and you can be sure that was diligently reported. I’m pretty certain that if I had managed to escape into the town this morning, they would have found me before I got within a mile of Javinder.’

  The soothing words left her unconvinced, he could see; her eyes were still wide with alarm and her face frozen. He tried again. ‘You think Dalip Suri is here because you’ve been asking after his aunt? That he’s come all this way to retrieve a postcard from the Brighton Pavilion?’

  She smiled very slightly. ‘It sounds silly, when you put it like that.’

  ‘It is silly. They didn’t appreciate your scrutiny, I’m sure, but it’s me they’re after. Think about it. I’m an SIS man come looking for my colleague, at a time when the last thing they want is the authorities to take notice of them.’