—43—
London
It was, paradoxically, the most exquisite and most wretched evening of the summer.
Lanterns had been set out in the garden of Nina’s town house.
Roses and jasmine filled the air, and the grass beneath our feet sent up herbal notes.
I sulked in a corner, as I’d done for weeks, and Rocky was brooding over a fight with his family.
Both of us had drunk rather a lot of gin.
On the patio, couples danced to a record on the gramophone.
“Nina’s going to marry Jon,” he said, gesturing. He was quite undone, his hair tousled, his shirt unbuttoned at the throat.
“But he’s—”
“Mmm. And so is she. They’ll give each other shelter.”
I watched them dance, laughing, spinning. “They do seem quite happy in many ways.”
“Sex isn’t the only unifier, is it?”
A ripple ran over my arms, my back, bringing a fresh wave of grief. I gripped his hand.
He gripped mine back. “You miss him terribly.”
“Don’t. I’ll fall to pieces.”
“He is magnificent, Elsie. Everything about him. I know why you adore him. And he clearly loves you in return.”
“It’s a foolish infatuation,” I said, swallowing my grief as well as I could. This was my second round with his rejection, after all. A woman might learn her lesson. I trusted the truth of his love, and only thought he was misguided. Foolish. Arrogantly paternalistic.
But this time, I would make no bid to change his mind. “We’ll grow up and get on with things.”
He eyed me steadily. “Perhaps.”
I took a breath. “Do you ever wonder why we fall in love with one person and not another? Of all the people in the world for Tanveer and me to love, we are the worst choices. If fate meant me to love him, why give me this passion for my painting, too? What’s the point of that?
What’s the point of a prince loving a commoner who will be a terrible choice politically? ”
“The world is changing. Surely there is some way? Perhaps not marriage but some other arrangement?”
“I must marry.”
He scowled. “A ridiculous institution in the modern age. My father has put his foot down and insisted I will marry by year’s end. Though perhaps war will prevent that.” He tossed his hair back, eyes glittering. “War will give me a year or two.”
“Oh, please. Not that.”
Standing abruptly, he held out his hand. “Dance with me, gloomy Elsie.”
He was an excellent dancer, athletic and charismatic.
We danced for ages, whirling and posing, playing off each other to make the others clap and cheer.
It is my fondest memory of him, his hair falling down his forehead in rakish loveliness, face clean shaven, his teeth even and white.
Later, winded and sweating, we settled on a stone bench to revive ourselves.
“Thank you,” I said. “I was quite devastated when I arrived this evening.”
He took my hand. “If I liked women, you would be the one I’d choose.”
I kissed his lips lightly. “I know. But my heart belongs to another.”
He lit a cigarette, exhaled heavily. Then: “Elsie, I’ve had the most wonderful idea.”
“Oh?”
“We should marry, like Jon and Nina. A marriage in name to save us from”—he gestured—“all the . . . mess.”
I laughed. “You would be a most dashing husband.”
“I am quite serious.” He squeezed my fingers. “It would save us both. Two artists, sheltered. You would have your lover, and I would have mine, and no one need be the wiser.”
A breath of hope whispered through the heaviness I’d been feeling. “My brother would swoon in joy.” Rocky was a far better catch than the baron. “But how would your father feel?”
“He would have no say. If I choose you, he cannot herd me into marrying some simpering female who would expect me to make love to her.” He leaned in, earnest. “Say yes, Elsie. We can protect each other.”
In that moment, I saw a future in which I painted freely, and was supported wholly, and could even keep the friendship with Tanveer as long as he didn’t marry. Which he would eventually, but at least it bought more time.
I flung my arms around his neck. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”
He hugged me back, and stood, holding our hands to the sky. “Friends, I have an announcement. Elsie has agreed to become my bride.”
In a week, it was official. His father was happy enough, and as I predicted, my brother swooned over the union. Even my mother, whom I’d imagined might sniff out the truth, appeared to be very happy with my choice. “I worried so that you’d run back to India and ruin your life, my love.”
I did not reply. I held too much fury at her shortsightedness.
October 15, 1914
London
[In Urdu]
Dear Tanveer,
When I first received your letter, I was devastated.
Again, you were protecting me from myself, giving me no say in the matter!
If I am to be an autonomous woman, the right to make my own choices, for good or ill, remains mine to make.
Even if you wish to protect me out of love, you are acting as a father, not my beloved.
But I began to think of how much time and training you have employed in pursuit of India’s freedom, and if I am to be true to my vow to put your happiness above my own, then I must be truthful with myself and recognize how poor a choice a daughter of the English gentry would be for a man wishing to release India from the shackles of that country.
It is exactly the worst of all choices. To insist we would be happy in the face of that challenge is more foolish than even my love can allow me to be.
I do love you, Tanveer.
In the meantime, I have reason to offer some hope for our dilemma. We may not marry, but perhaps we can find some other arrangement.
I am going to marry Rocky. It is, of course, a marriage in name only, since he has no taste for women and I have no taste for anyone but you, but this will appease our families.
He’s gone to recruit training, but the banns have been posted.
It’s official, and truly, it’s remarkable how happy my brother is.
This may feel a blow, but I hope you will see what a good solution it is. We can be a modern couple, creating our own sort of union.
I say to you, as you said to me, that you are the axis of the world to me, Tanveer. I invite you to meet me in our dreams, where we are free to love as we wish, where we might spend our lives, living one world in sleep, another in the day. Shall I meet you there?
In deepest love,
Elsie
[Enclosed drawing of their hands, linked]
October 20, 1914
Talwarpur
[In English]
Dear Elsie,
It does feel a blow, though it should not. I am a fool to want both things at once, to protect you and to claim you. Rocky is a good choice, which I understand logically. My heart will need more time.
I have joined the army, which I have been trained to do since boyhood. I feel it is my duty to lead the men of our state, and perhaps it will carry weight later. When I know where I shall be posted, I shall let you know.
Your friend,
Tanveer
November 13, 1914
Clystmere Hall
[In Urdu]
Dear Tanveer,
I am heartsick at the thought of you in the army. In danger, constantly, and for what? Fighting for a country you don’t believe in? Why did you do such a thing?
Write to me often, so that I know you are safe.
Elsie