“There’s going to be a good deal to learn,” she said, “isn’t there?”
We began with dress, and we discovered a great many things about the British we had never imagined. For one, it was extremely baffling to learn what they considered appropriate versus horribly inappropriate. Burping in public, perfectly fine in Jhansi, was considered uncouth by the British; something only drunks or small children did. Yet not bathing before going to a place of worship was perfectly fine, and in fact, some of the British didn’t bathe for weeks. Their food consisted of dead animals, which they speared with metal items called forks and knives. And almost nothing was eaten by hand. As for the women, according to Mrs. McEgan, they ate in front of whomever they pleased, laughed like she did, with their mouths wide open, and didn’t think twice about allowing a man to kiss their hands.
But the most extraordinary lessons of all featured court etiquette, and what should and should not be done before the queen. A woman’s neck and shoulders were to be bare at all times, even if there was rain or snow. Her gown’s train must be exactly three yards in length, so the queen could see it spread by the lords-in-waiting in the room. Dinner at six meant dinner at six fifteen, not a minute before and not a minute after. If we should be so fortunate as to be invited to a meal, ten courses would be served, with all of the accompanying, confusing silverware. No noise in the dining room. No singing in the halls. And children were not to laugh or speak unless spoken to.
By the end of our first lesson, the queen’s court sounded like a prison, not a palace.
“You’ll feel differently as soon as you see it,” Mrs. McEgan promised. “There’s nothing like London anywhere in the world. ‘This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.’”
I recognized Shakespeare’s Richard II and grinned.
Chapter Twenty
The setting sun gilded the walls of the palace and reflected from Arjun’s golden earrings. He looked the way I imagined Lord Krishna had when he was alive and enchanting the pretty gopis.
“I will meet your family someday. Maybe not soon, but I will. I want to see what sort of man produced a daughter like you,” he said.
The rani was allowing us a week to visit our families before we left for England. I was excited, but also sad that Arjun wouldn’t be coming with me. I had thought the rani might allow him to escort me home.
“Yes. My father would enjoy your passion for literature,” I told him. “You two have much in common.”
“Be safe,” he said with unusual tenderness.
We were standing outside of the Rani Mahal. It was September, and the monsoon had turned the courtyard to mud. In one of the rain pools, I could see our reflection, the ripples pushing our images together.
“I will.”
At home, my father was overjoyed to see his little peacock. But the house wasn’t the same with Anu living in her husband’s home next door. I took my father’s pen and wrote, “Do you see her often?”
“Nearly every week. She couldn’t be happier. But what about you?”
I wanted to answer him honestly, but didn’t know how. Was I excited for my journey? Afraid? Nervous? I struggled to choose a single emotion. Finally, I wrote, “It’s been very difficult to see the British flag in Jhansi.”
“The British have better weapons and superior training,” my father replied, and I could see from his handwriting how angry he was. “What is the rani planning to do?”
“She is sending a delegation to England to petition the queen.” I met my father’s gaze, and suddenly, he understood.
“You’re going.”
“Yes. With another Durgavasi and ten of the rani’s guards, including her captain. It will take two months to travel there. We’ll be there for a month, and then it will take another two months to return. I want to tell Anu and say good-bye. I’ll be back in the new year.”
My father reached out and covered my hand with his. Tears welled in his eyes.
We stood at the doorstep of Shivaji’s house and my father knocked, although most people usually just called through the open window.
Shivaji answered the door. I bent to touch his feet, and when I came up, he was wearing a great smile.
“Sita!” he exclaimed. “Amisha,” he called to his wife, “it’s Sita! What are you doing here? Did you just arrive? Come inside!”