The emerald eyes of a tiger stared down at her from the mantel.
Eliza gazed back in fascination. In fact, she could hardly keep her attention on her hosts. Taral and Basanti Misra had transformed their suite at the Hotel Russell into an enchanting wonderland. The ivory enameled statue of the tiger was just one of many exotic objects decorating their rooms. Colorful rugs in dazzling patterns blanketed the floor, azure blue and purple pillows nestled atop low-lying divans and chairs, gold figurines sat on side tables, and peacock feathers graced enormous brass vases in every corner. A carved silver elephant stood guard by the bedroom door, while a garland of pink and orange flowers decorated the mantel beneath the green-eyed tiger.
The suite was also as fragrant as Covent Garden’s flower market, although she couldn’t identify the scents. Even their manservant was colorful. He wore a simpler version of the Indian clothing Taral Misra sported: a high-necked long jacket and turban. Except Taral’s jacket was made of fine green silk, and his turban was jeweled.
But Basanti was truly eye-catching. Today the lovely young woman wore a turquoise sari and veil heavily embroidered in gold. The bold colors beautifully accented her brown skin and large dark eyes, as did the intricate gold headpiece strung across her forehead. Eliza was especially fascinated by two gleaming gold bracelets in the shape of a snake which wound about her wrists and forearms. She wondered if they were cobras.
Eliza held out her teacup for a refill. Unlike those she was used to, this teacup had no handle. Even the orange teapot, painted with swirling designs, did not resemble those seen in English homes. Everything about this tea was different, including the fact that she was drinking something called chai. The spicy hot beverage was so marvelously sweet, Eliza feared she might drink the entire pot by herself.
“What is that wonderful scent? I thought I knew the fragrance of every flower.”
“But it is not a flower, Miss Doolittle. It is incense of sandalwood.” Basanti nodded toward a gold dish placed at the foot of a brass statue. Eliza noticed a tiny stream of smoke wafting above it. “Sandalwood is said to calm the mind and spirit.”
Freddy held up his cup. “I say, this is quite good. What’s in this chai?”
Taral took a sip before answering. “Masala chai is Indian black tea brewed with milk and sugar. We add spices such as ginger, cardamom, nutmeg, cloves, and cinnamon.”
“Do not forget the pepper,” his wife said. “Pepper is what makes the tea so – how do you say? – pungent.”
Taral nodded. “It is our custom to serve chai to guests. Although we also drink it many times throughout the day. I am glad you enjoy it.”
“Ripping.” Freddy took another sip. “Eliza has a sweet tooth. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have to brew another pot.”
“But you must have as much tea as you wish.” Taral clapped his hands. “More chai.”
When his manservant hurried off, Eliza didn’t protest. The Misra couple had been most gracious from the moment Eliza and Freddy arrived, ushering them to carved wooden benches that circled a low round table. Trays filled with sweets of sugar, milk, coconut, and various nuts had been brought out immediately.
“This is all quite wonderful,” Eliza said. “I don’t even feel as if I’m in England.”
Basanti smiled. “My devoted groom packed up much of our house in Bombay. It is my first trip away from India. Taral was afraid I might suffer from what you call homesickness.”
“I know how strange one can feel in a foreign land,” he added. “And I care only for her happiness. Bringing our things with us seemed the best choice. And I, too, am grateful we are surrounded with our possessions from home. I find myself missing India more every day.”
“Will you be leaving soon?” Eliza asked.
“My business is not yet completed.” Taral sighed. “That is most vexing. It is my dearest wish to be back in Mysore after the rainy season ends.”
“In October, the maharajah holds his first tiger hunt of autumn,” Basanti said.
“I say, you hunt tigers?” Freddy’s eyes grew wide with excitement. “What a thrilling sport. Have you actually killed one?”
“Oh yes. In fact, I have had the pleasure of shooting three tigers.” Taral’s voice held a hint of pride. “A most dangerous business, and not one any man should take lightly. Being a good marksmen is mandatory. Otherwise it is the tiger who takes the hunter down.”
Was Taral expert enough with a gun to have shot at Jack and the Colonel? “Are you ever frightened hunting tigers?” Eliza asked.
“Yes. But to shoot such a magnificent beast as it charges straight towards you is an experience like none other. Last year, I also bagged a panther.”
“Dash it all. I would love to go to India and hunt tigers.”
Eliza raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t even know you hunted, Freddy.”
“I don’t. Although I did go to Cubby Parkinson’s shooting party last year. Good old Cubby, he hosts the best weekends.”
“What did you shoot?” Taral regarded him with renewed interest.
Freddy seemed ashamed to answer. “Grouse.”
The Misras were too polite to show their amusement or contempt. Just then the manservant carried in a fresh pot of chai, and Eliza breathed in the heady scent.
“Are you attending the wedding of Mr. Winterbottom this Friday?” Basanti asked. “I am most looking forward to it. Lady Winifred said it will be a traditional English wedding, and I wish to observe your customs. It seems the Duchess of Carbrey’s wedding was not traditional.”
“That’s true. Few weddings end with a murder.” With a contented sigh, Eliza sipped her chai. She wondered if she could figure out how to brew this herself back at Wimpole Street.
Taral cocked his head at her. “I have heard your cousin is a police inspector, Miss Doolittle. Has Scotland Yard learned anything that may lead them to the killer?”
Pleased he’d presented her with the opportunity to discuss the murders, Eliza nodded. “Professor Higgins and I were at Scotland Yard yesterday. The only connection between the murders of Mr. Farrow and Miss Palmer may be artwork stolen from a temple in India.” She put her teacup back on the table. “The Temple of Parvati.”
Startled, Basanti turned to her husband and murmured something to him in Hindi. He whispered something back.
“I am surprised to hear Scotland Yard has been apprised of the Temple of Parvati,” Taral said. “Of course, my people are aware of how it has been looted by your countrymen.”
“I hope you don’t blame me. I had nothing to do with it,” Eliza said quickly.
“Oh, we would never assign blame to someone such as yourself.” Basanti patted Eliza’s hand. “You are a fine lady, Miss Doolittle. But those who should have known better treated this temple with much irreverence. That weighs heavy upon all of us, but especially my husband.”
His face now set in a somber scowl, Taral looked like a displeased Indian king in his tall jeweled turban. “The theft of the temple is a stain upon my honor.”
Eliza was puzzled by his comment. “Colonel Pickering said the temple was discovered by an employee who works for your family’s company.”
“It is I who discovered the temple, Miss Doolittle,” Taral said.
Now it was Eliza’s turn to be surprised. “I had no idea.”
“My father is Vijay Misra, the owner and founder of Misra Iron and Steel. All of his sons are therefore his employees. And my three sisters have married men who work for the company.”
Basanti took her husband’s hand. “It is one of the most important steel companies in the world. To be a Misra is to take pride in such a legacy.”
“Even as a boy, I knew I wanted to work for my father and the company he built.” Taral straightened. “The best way to serve him was to become a scientist. I attended St. Xavier’s College in Bombay and the Indian Institute of Science in Bangalore. For years I thought of nothing but my studies, and I was proud the day I became a mineralogist. My first job for the company was to discover new iron fields, and I was successful at it. But during one of my expeditions in southern India, I came upon a hidden temple. One that had lain untouched for centuries.”
“So you called in Colonel Pickering to confirm the discovery?”
“I did no such thing, Miss Doolittle. I went to the local authorities. It was their responsibility to contact the proper people. I assumed these would be fellow Indians who were scholars and archaeologists. But I did not have time to sit around while the village elders decided who to send for in Bombay. I returned to searching for iron. Not for many months did I learn that a retired British colonel had been brought in to see the temple. And that through him, a rich family in England had taken over the temple and all its treasure.” His voice trembled with anger.
“Colonel Pickering only did what was asked of him,” Eliza said. “He meant no harm.”
“But he did a great deal of harm! It was to the British in Bombay and Calcutta that your colonel gave the news of the discovery. And then he informed his rich colleagues in Europe, to see which of them was willing to fund the looting of the temple.”
“Colonel Pickering feared thieves would find the temple and take whatever they liked.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “Instead the English did exactly that.”
The atmosphere in the hotel suite had turned tense and unpleasant. Eliza suspected it might be time to take their leave, which she regretted. She hoped to have a look at Basanti’s saris first. When she nudged Freddy with her foot, he quickly put his own teacup down on the table.
“Do you know who is more to blame than Colonel Pickering or the British?” Taral continued. “Myself. I should not have left the temple without exploring it first. All I saw were stone buildings and a few statues buried in jungle vegetation. How was I to know the goddess’s gold and jewels lay beneath my feet?” He bowed his head. “I should have protected it from the thieving hands of outsiders. Instead I abandoned it to greedy liars. I have shamed myself and my family. And I must find a way to make amends.”
Basanti turned to them. “He will have no rest until the holy treasure is returned to India.”
“Is that why you came to England?” Eliza asked.
He raised his head and gave her a mournful look. “I have spent many hours at the British Museum and with Lord Ashmore, explaining why the treasure should be returned. My efforts have not borne fruit, but I refuse to leave until honor has been served.”
Eliza felt uneasy. Was murder one way to avenge Taral Misra’s honor?
Even Freddy seemed uncomfortable. “Perhaps you’re unaware of this, but Lord Ashmore is to marry my sister. I must say, he appears to be a most decent chap.”
“Then he should act like it,” Taral snapped.
“What I think Freddy means is that you might be able to convince Lord Ashmore to give part of the treasure back,” Eliza added.
“I did not come here to only retrieve part of the treasure.” He scowled at her.
“Isn’t that better than nothing? Is there anything in the treasure more sacred to the Indian people? If so, that’s what I would ask for.”
“The temple was built centuries ago by the king in honor of his beloved wife and queen, Maharani Lakshmi,” Basanti said. “The goddess Parvati was her protectress and six statues of Parvati were taken from the temple. Two were made of gold, two of ivory, and two of stone. It is a great sacrilege to steal statues of the goddess. They should be returned.”
Eliza smiled. An idea was beginning to form. “Anything else?”
“A life-size gold statue of the queen which Taral says is most glorious. A large ruby is set in her forehead, while the eyes are blue diamonds.”
“Like the Hope Diamond?”
Taral appeared startled that she’d heard of it. “Yes, but not as large.”
“The Hope Diamond is said to be cursed. Colonel Pickering mentioned a curse connected to the temple as well.”
“Sacred temples and tombs are protected by such things, Miss Doolittle,” he said. “Many ancient writings warn that to steal from the gods will bring down the sufferings of a curse. But the temple has been untouched for six centuries. It is too soon to know if there is a curse attached to its desecration.”
“Some people might disagree. The Colonel says the Temple of Parvati was protected by the Curse of the Cobra.” Eliza pointed at Basanti’s gold bracelets. “I see you’re wearing snake jewelry. I was wondering if those are supposed to be cobras.”
Basanti crossed her arms, hiding the bracelets from view. “Images of serpents are held in high esteem in my country.”
“Hindu temples are the palaces of our gods and goddesses, Miss Doolittle.” Taral’s expression grew more severe. “They are protected by numerous images of animals. The cobra is one of many. But I will concede the five-headed Sheshnag is a powerful ally of Vishnu and should not be taken lightly.”
A long silence followed as the Misras stared at Eliza and Freddy.
The friendly atmosphere had turned chilly. “I don’t hold with curses myself,” Eliza said, “but I wouldn’t blame people for thinking a curse was connected to the Temple of Parvati. Look at what happened to Ambrose Farrow. And we learned he was involved in stealing part of the temple treasure when it was being delivered to England.”
Basanti said something in Hindi, but Taral hushed her.
“The Duchess of Carbrey’s driver served on that ship. He helped smuggle the stolen treasure to England,” Eliza continued. “He swears it’s hidden away somewhere in London.”
Taral and Basanti exchanged glances. “This is troubling,” he said.
“So are the murders of Ambrose Farrow and his mistress.” Eliza took a deep breath. “And it’s possible the shooting at my cousin Jack’s wedding had nothing to do with him. The person may have been aiming at Colonel Pickering. After all, the Colonel is involved with the temple, too. The killer could be taking revenge on anyone responsible for the treasure leaving India.”
“I hope you are not implying I had anything to do with these acts of violence.” Taral’s anger had returned.
Eliza wasn’t certain what Taral Misra’s role was in the deaths and shootings, but she wasn’t foolish enough to say such a thing right now. “People might look at these deaths and suspect the Temple of Parvati is the reason behind it. Others may believe the temple treasure is cursed.”
Freddy exchanged a knowing glance with Eliza before saying, “My sister would gladly get rid of anything connected to the temple.”
“Exactly,” Eliza added. “Why don’t you make a list of what you want returned from the Ashmore Collection? And mention there is a curse attached to the stolen treasure.”
Taral sighed. “Lord Ashmore does not believe in curses.”
“It’s not Lord Ashmore who needs convincing,” Eliza replied. “But if his bride Clara thinks the temple treasure is cursed, she’ll be throwing it out the day after the wedding.”
Basanti leaned close to Taral. “My dear husband, we may be able to retrieve the most sacred pieces.”
“But there is still the British Museum,” he said grimly. “And now I learn about this additional treasure smuggled off the ship.”
“One step at a time, Mr. Misra. Work on Lord Ashmore first. Perhaps Colonel Pickering or Lady Winifred can use their connections to influence the British Museum. As for the smuggled treasure. . .” Eliza shrugged. “That’s best left in Scotland Yard’s hands.”
“Perhaps you are right, Miss Doolittle,” Taral said with a sigh. “If I must resort to a deceptive tale of temple curses, then I shall do so.”
“You’re a brilliant girl,” Freddy whispered in her ear.
Basanti seemed as relieved as Eliza. “Would you like more chai, Miss Doolittle? Or perhaps another tray of sweets?”
“Even I have had enough sugar for the moment. What I would like is to see your wardrobe of saris.”
“Of course.” The young woman gracefully rose to her feet. Eliza gazed in admiration once more at her flowing skirt of turquoise and gold, cropped blouse, and long sash draped over one shoulder. Eliza’s purple outfit and white feathered straw hat seemed dull by comparison.
“And you must choose your favorite. It will be my gift to you for helping my husband.”
This prospect so excited Eliza, she nearly ran ahead of Basanti on the way to her bedroom. All this talk of temple treasure, tigers, and blue diamonds held little meaning to Eliza. The prospect of having her own sari seemed far more wondrous. And if anyone tried to steal that sari, she’d blooming well put a curse on them.