It was evening, and after dinner everyone gathered in the sitting room. They had been to Oxford for the day to meet Delilah’s brother and wandered around the lovely city which seemed to glow in the glorious sunshine.
‘I prefer Oxford to London!’ declared Gopal. ‘Much smaller but far more beautiful.’
‘I was happy when I lived in London, but I can see why you might prefer the smaller city,’ said Rani. Before she went back to India, she had planned a visit to the abbey where she had lived for so long, keen to see Sister Monica and the other nuns, and catch up with their lives. ‘I look forward to going back there very much.’
‘I prefer Delhi,’ said George, folding his arms over his ample stomach. ‘For me, Delhi is home. Finished!’
‘For once, I must agree with my husband,’ said Leila. ‘Oxford is very special. I would like to return there one day.’
‘Well,’ said Father Ryan. ‘I’ve been to Oxford many times, London too, and of course have spent many years in Delhi. Oxford is special, but for me, Dublin is the best. Much smaller, granted, but what it lacks in size it makes up for in personality. I miss it constantly.’
At this, Rani sat up. She was used to hearing him talk about his home country, his eyes often welling up with tears as he did so. Occasionally, she had quizzed him about his intention to return there one day and leave India for good, the thought of which disconcerted her greatly. She was acutely aware of the debt she owed both him and Father Malachy for taking over much of Harish’s parental care after she went to England. She could hardly complain if he left, but would miss him so much that she could barely contemplate it. He usually refused to be drawn on the subject, committing himself to neither country.
‘Let the future look after itself, Rani,’ he would say, his accent strengthening as it always did at the mention of his homeland. ‘It usually does.’
‘I have to agree with Father Ryan. Dublin is the better city, and is where I shall return, perhaps in the not-too-distant future!’
All eyes now turned to Father Malachy. He continued to sip his coffee, averting his gaze to a particularly fine painting of a horse, one that had belonged to a family member, he presumed.
‘Really? I had no idea,’ said Harish innocently, giving no thought to his mother’s plight if the priests both left India. ‘Then you’d be a lot nearer to me. Fantastic!’
Leila and George both looked to Rani, although her face had become unreadable, which she was rather good at. Eventually she spoke, her eyes glinting.
‘Each must do as they wish,’ she said, ‘although I would miss you both greatly. You are my family.’ She took a sip of her coffee, then continued. ‘It is because of this that I must now share some news with you all.’
‘What news?’ asked Harish. ‘Is someone else arriving?’
Delilah slapped his arm. ‘Be quiet! You must let your mother speak.’
Rani inclined her head. ‘Thank you. Please, let me explain…’
Everyone shifted their position to make sure they could see her clearly.
‘It is like this,’ she continued. ‘When I returned from England, I found this in the sitting room desk. It was the one that your father used,’ she added, looking towards her son, then placing a thick yellowed envelope on the low table in front of her. ‘It is addressed to my father, the English teacher.’
‘Harish found it when he fetched Rani’s things from her parent’s house. He hid it in the desk,’ added George, wanting to help Rani explain, and lift some of the burden from her.
‘Yes, this is so,’ she continued. ‘What was written inside was a great shock.’
‘You’ve never mentioned it! What is it? Can I read it?’ asked Harish. ‘I already have the letter he wrote to me.’
Rani pushed the letter towards him. ‘Only now have I been able to face what is said. Forgive me. Gopal too. Please forgive me.’
‘Gopal? What can a letter from your father have to do with Gopal?’ Harish asked, now confused as well as intrigued.
‘Yes,’ said Gopal. ‘I have never met him.’
‘Harish, please read it to us all,’ Rani said firmly. It may be difficult to accept, but perhaps not so much as it was to me.’
Harish opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, the paper as thin and crisp as when it was first written. ‘Wow! It has a maharaja’s crest on it. Grandfather must have had powerful connections for an English teacher.’
‘Please read,’ urged Rani again, wanting to get it over with. She’d kept what was written to herself for long enough and wanted rid of it. ‘I have held this for too long.’
‘Alright, alright. OK, here goes. It’s dated nineteen thirty-three. “Please excuse my contacting you in this way.” Well, he obviously speaks perfect English! He probably wrote it…’
‘Harish, just read the letter…’ said Father Ryan, knowing what it said, and like Rani keen to get it out into the open. He thought it likely that Harish might be angry, and the sooner it was dealt with the better.
‘Ok! Here goes! “It is my understanding that you and your wife are now the parents of a baby girl with silver eyes, by legal adoption.” Legal adoption? What?’ asked Harish, standing up. ‘What adoption?’
‘Read please, Harish,’ prompted George, as patiently as he could. ‘All will be revealed if you read.’
‘OK. “The child was the result of an affair between my son and a married woman who regularly visited the palace with her parents. Her name was Gulika Lal.”’
On hearing this Gopal leapt from his chair. ‘What is this?’ he almost yelled. ‘Gulika Lal was my mother!’
‘Hush, hush, Gopal,’ said Father Ryan. ‘Please, sit down and hear what’s written to the end. Then we can discuss it.’
Leila reached up to grasp her husband’s hand and pull him back onto the sofa. She had suspected for many years that Mati held a secret. Her odd behaviour at times when Rani was there was curious, often backing off from a story she was halfway through yet refusing to say what was bothering her. She’d done it with Harish too, although as her eyesight worsened, it had happened less. Before that, she had often grasped their hands and gazed into their silver eyes.
‘These eyes,’ she would say. ‘I have seen these eyes before…’ Losing her sight meant the reminder of the silver eyes was no longer present, and eventually the comments stopped.
‘Jesus, Mum, why didn’t you say before. You’ve had it for a few years now.’
‘I know. I was unable to. There has been so much to deal with already. I…’ She faltered,
‘Finish reading the letter, and you can discuss things with your mother later. Please Harish…’ Father Ryan could barely conceal his irritation. He too was frustrated at the length of time Rani had taken to finally come clean, although as she said, there was already enough to contend with. Even now, her past continued to both taunt and haunt her, and this was one more thing to add to the list of many that continued to present themselves. Perhaps this would be the last? He desperately hoped that would be the case.
Harish also felt deeply frustrated, although mostly with his mother. Why had she felt the need to keep this from him? Hadn’t he enough to cope with, taking over the family estate and all that entailed without more information about his lineage to throw things off course. ‘There are just a few more lines. “It was her family’s choice to give the child away, not ours. We knew nothing of it until it was already done. We make no claims on the child now. She is yours, but we wish to offer you financial support so that she may take up good education. This will enable her to achieve more than might be possible otherwise. I do hope there will be no offence taken on your part at this offer.” He goes on to leave contact details and that’s it. I’m assuming Grandfather would have refused all assistance.’
Rani nodded. ‘There is no doubt about that. He was very proud. We had little money. One cigar would last a week.’
‘I am in shock. You are my half-sister?’ asked Gopal. ‘How can this be?’
‘It answers many questions about Mati, your mother also,’ said Leila. ‘I see it like this. We are already family. Nothing has changed. Mati has photographs of the maharaja from that time. Black and white, of course. His eyes are not silver, but I believe there were family members that had them. I will get copies and send some to you.’
Harish flung the letter on the table. ‘So, everything changes again, and I’m expected to just accept it?’
Delilah got up. ‘Come with me, Harish. A short walk will help. Come.’
He looked like he was about to object, then got up and stormed from the room without saying another word. Delilah hurried after him. In the hallway, she caught a glimpse of Benson who was looking concerned. Harish was usually so even tempered and to see him almost run out of the house must have surprised him.
‘Don’t worry,’ she called behind her. ‘Everything will be fine.’
***
In the drawing room, Father Ryan had his arm firmly around Rani’s shoulders as she hastily mopped tears from the corners of her eyes. That she should cry was an added distress to the others, including Gopal, who only ever thought of her as the girl on the landing whose wisdom surpassed her years, calm, and always collected, with a cutting retort to anyone who crossed her or to protect those she cared for. The letter that Rani had found in her desk answered many questions about his past yet left him filled with both sorrow and joy. He had much to contemplate, but perhaps now was not the time to do so.
George was standing behind her, and Father Malachy leaned against the fireplace, gazing around the room. He didn’t care for scenes like this, and images of the green rolling hills of Ireland and the damp fragrant air came to mind. Images of India came too; hot and noisy, with an entirely different smell, at times also pleasant, and at others, definitely not!
His attachment to Father Ryan, who he admired greatly and whose company he enjoyed, had kept him in India far longer than he ever intended. Their trip back home to Ireland after the others returned to India may well cement his dreams to stay there for good. As far as he could see, they were all at a pivotal point in their lives, and wise choices were now crucial. He might even settle in England and decided to suggest this to Father Ryan later that evening. Somewhere near Harish? Retire perhaps and find a cottage near to Wishanger? Neither of them was poor, since both had inherited family money over the years…
‘Don’t get ahead of yourself, Father Malachy,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well,’ he quoted, a favourite adage of St Julian from many hundreds of years ago.
‘I suggest that we all have a drink to calm ourselves,’ he said aloud, ‘and I shall take it upon myself to pour them.’
As George might have done back in Hope House, Benson came quickly through the door.
‘Drinks, ladies and gentlemen? Please, allow me…’
When he had gone and the drinks were being sipped, Gopal picked up the courage to ask the question that had perhaps been on everyone’s mind.
‘You wish to meet your birth father, Rani? He is still alive, I believe. My mother died many years ago, you know this already. There is no other family. All dead.’
Rani looked at him. As he might have expected, her face was impassive again, the tears gone and not even a hint of puffiness to disclose that there had been any in the first place. If he’d cried, he would have looked a mess, with a red, swollen face and dripping nose. The tears would also still be seeping from the corners of his eyes since he was always unable to stop them once they had begun. Clearly, he had no maharaja’s blood in him!
‘I am amusing you, brother?’ Rani asked, her voice sharp but laced with humour.
An almost audible sigh of relief came over the room, as shoulders dropped and the others smiled, following Gopal’s lead.
‘No, no, sister, not at all, only the situation. It is unusual. I was thinking how clear it is that there is no royal blood in me. I smile because of this.’
Leila held his hand tightly. Her husband’s modesty was one of the things she loved about him the most and had done from the moment they met. He may not have royal blood, but in her mind, far exceeded that status in innate goodness. She had thought herself lucky back then that he would agree to marry her, and even after many years, still thought the same.
‘Very well. No, I think that I do not wish to meet him.’ Then she became more serious, a frown appearing on her smooth forehead. ‘Harish may wish to do so. It will be his choice. I hope he will be alright. So many changes…’
‘He’ll be fine,’ said Father Ryan. ‘I’ll speak to him.’ He glanced up at George who hadn’t yet spoken but responded with a shrug of his broad shoulders. He looked tired, which was unusual. He also appeared to have quite a few grey hairs in his beard and moustache which the priest had never noticed before. He must be well into his sixties and had certainly earned the grey hairs given all that had gone on, yet somehow he felt reluctant to acknowledge any kind of weakness in the man. He knew that wasn’t fair and decided he would discuss this with Father Malachy later, and perhaps George too, if he would allow it.
George had known about Rani’s lineage for many years, since Harish Snr had gone to her old family home to collect her belongings a few weeks after she’d arrived at Hope House. The letter had been found there and brought back, both thinking the young girl had enough to deal with already, tucking it away for a more appropriate time. That time had never come. After Rani insisted on being one of the girls that entertained men, both he and Harish had made sure that Gopal never so much as laid a finger on her. That he, Leila, and Mati, had played a part in raising Harish Jnr was a good thing. How could it not be?
‘I don’t know about you lot,’ said Father Malachy, ‘but I need a good strong cup of tea. I’ll go and find Benson…’
***
Harish and Delilah were sitting on the brow of the hill that sloped gently down to the house. Harish was calmer, although their conversation had become quite heated when Delilah tried to put his mother’s position to him.
‘But I’m sick of it!’ he replied. ‘I’m sick of having my life turned this way and that at the whim of others, including hers.’
‘I imagine she too is sick of these things,’ responded Delilah quietly. ‘Perhaps now will come a period of calm. I believe this will be so. A time for adjustments to be made. All is not bad, Harish. Surely you see this? Also, you have gained two uncles, not only one!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Charles and Gopal!’ she said firmly, ‘and an aunt too because he is married to Leila. There are also many more that you have yet to meet.’
‘You mean the maharaja’s lot? I’m not sure if I want to meet any of them! Where have they been all this time?’ he asked churlishly, realising how childish he must sound even as he said it.
‘Doing what the English teacher asked. They were respectful. Remember this, even if you must persist with your anger.’
Both now silent, they gazed down at the old house that undoubtedly would have witnessed far worse than the fact that one of its earls was the grandson of a maharaja. The evening was cool and there was a definite nip of autumn in the air. The smell of woodsmoke from two of the house chimneys drifted across the valley, fragrant and wistful as only woodsmoke could be.
To one side, Harish could see Charles and his two dogs coming out of the woods, heading towards the house. He and Father Malachy had struck up a friendship, and later would no doubt retire to the library, drinks in hand, to discuss a variety of topics that they both found interesting and had in common. Father Ryan would probably join them, although would say less. For the first time, a wave of affection came over him for the place; the house, land and woods, as well as for his Uncle Charles and the spaniels that were his constant companions.
He thought back to India and Hope House, his place of birth. It felt distant, and unlike Father Malachy, he found images of it hard to conjure up, except for the courtyard. He could see that in all its multi-coloured glory in an instant. He turned to Delilah.
‘A painting of the courtyard in Delhi for the drawing room,’ he said, knowing that she would understand exactly what he meant and the sentiment behind it.
‘Of course. I shall ask my father.’ She got up. ‘You are ready to face your subjects?’ she asked, eyebrows raised to gently tease her dear friend whose life, like his mother’s, appeared to swing from side to side, never still. She hoped the stillness would eventually come, and as she thought about it now, felt sure that it would. From this point on, things would be different. There would be more changes, but only for the better. They wandered down the slope towards Charles who arrived at the house at the same time.
‘Beautiful evening,’ he said, as they walked towards him. ‘Autumn is on its way. You’ll love it, the changing colour of the leaves, and the smell. In fact, you can smell it now.’ He took in a deep breath. ‘Take heart from it, Harish. There are many good times to come,’ he said, echoing Delilah’s thoughts from a few minutes earlier. ‘Many good times!’
Benson appeared by the door and opened it wide to let them in, then stood at the front of the house to take in the view. Its familiarity did nothing to lessen its beauty. He had no idea how many more autumns he would see, but what he did know was that the years to come would be good ones. A few minutes later he stepped back into the hall, pulling the large door closed behind him. He turned to see Harish coming out of the sitting room and into the hallway.
‘Benson,’ he called. ‘Come into the sitting room. We’ve got something for you that we bought in Oxford the other day.’
‘But M’Lord, I should see to shutting the windows, and…’
‘Forget all that. We want you with us. You are part of the family, after all.’
Warmed by words that he had never yet heard, Benson’s heart felt fit to burst with happiness. One cycle had completed and another had begun, and more thankful than he had words to say, he turned to follow his master into a room full of family, Harish’s family, and by proxy, his too.
On the lawn, a family of deer stood totally still, fixed to the landscape like statues, peering towards the lit-up rooms and the voices that could be heard inside. A fox barked further up the valley, and suddenly, without warning, they took off towards the woods and were gone.
A huge full moon slowly began to appear from behind Wishanger Hall, coating everything with an eerie, silver sheen. The fox barked again, it too then making for the woods and the darkness it needed to stalk his prey.
Then there was silence.