first time, interest flickered in the Maharaja's hooded brown eyes as he
fingered his clean-shaven chin and reflected. "You already have such a
consortium, Sir Joshua?"
"Yes.
A draft agreement is in the process of being approved."
"How
would Company Bahadur react to the idea?"
"Favourably.
They are as hungry for coal as we are."
For
another moment the Maharaja stared at his exquisitely tooled gold leather shoes
heavy with embroidery and turned up at the toes. "Very well." The
sudden decisiveness sounded characteristic. "I would like to see the draft
at your convenience, Sir Joshua. And now," he dismissed the subject and
turned to Olivia, "I must ask forgiveness for having neglected you, Miss
O'Rourke. We men have an incorrigible habit of sacrificing etiquette to mundane
business, which is inexcusable." He drained his glass and a uniformed
aide-de-camp materialised to claim the empty goblet. The Maharaja declined
politely as Sir Joshua ordered a renewal. "It is kind of you to have
indulged my weakness for Glenmorangie, Sir Joshua, but in whisky drinking—if
not in other matters—one must bow to the wisdom of one's wife. The Maharani
disapproves of excesses."
It
was said shyly and with such boyish guilelessness that they all laughed and the
atmosphere became once again convivial. The gentle dismissal contained in the
Maharaja's apology to Olivia, Sir Joshua took in his stride, too buoyant to
care. "Well, if I may now leave Your Highness in Olivia's splendidly
capable hands, there are duties to which I must attend as a host or Lady Bridget
will be extremely cross." He bowed and backed away.
Thoughtfully,
the Maharaja watched the distinguished, imposing form till it merged with the
crowd. "An admirable gentleman, Miss O'Rourke. And a determined one. I am
flattered by the honour Sir Joshua and his colleagues do me as pillars of Her
Majesty's enterprise in the colonies." Whether or not there was sarcasm in
the remark Olivia could not say, because his expression was quite serious.
Then, swiftly, he cast Sir Joshua and his colleagues aside. "Now tell me,
Miss O'Rourke, how do you consider the chances of Mr. Zachary Taylor in the
elections? Is he likely to get the better of Mr. Cass and Mr. Van Buren in this
significant contest when for the first time all your States will vote
simultaneously?"
Olivia
was amazed. "Your Highness keeps in touch with our American presidential
politics?"
"Why
not?" By tacit consent they had started to stroll along the paved path
that adjoined the embankment wall. Although no one approached, the curious eyes
watching were many. Whatever English opinion about native princes in private,
in public they aroused keen interest. Not only did the rulers wield enormous
power over their subjects, but in some cases their kingdoms were larger than
England and certainly richer. "Politics are politics no matter what their
nationality, Miss O'Rourke," Arvind Singh continued, "mainly because
everywhere people are people. Yes, through friends I do maintain an interest in
presidential power play. But you have not answered my question."
"Well,
my father believes that Mr. Taylor has the better chances. He might not be a
seasoned politician, but he is known as a good soldier and his victory at Buena
Vista has already made him a national hero. The Whigs chose him because he
appeals to the common people." She smiled. "They call him Old Rough
and Ready. I guess that is as good a selling slogan as any."
The
Maharaja, listening closely, nodded. "But is he not also a slave owner?
How will he rationalise that when admitting new States into the Union on a
free-or-slave basis?"
Olivia
made a face. "He will change his stance, Papa thinks. In politics, Papa
says, only fools keep principles lifelong. The wise stick only to
expediency." Quickly she added, "He doesn't mean that as a
compliment. Papa has not much respect for politicians."
Arvind
Singh laughed. "Your father is, of course, right. In fact, I must remember
that
fingered his clean-shaven chin and reflected. "You already have such a
consortium, Sir Joshua?"
"Yes.
A draft agreement is in the process of being approved."
"How
would Company Bahadur react to the idea?"
"Favourably.
They are as hungry for coal as we are."
For
another moment the Maharaja stared at his exquisitely tooled gold leather shoes
heavy with embroidery and turned up at the toes. "Very well." The
sudden decisiveness sounded characteristic. "I would like to see the draft
at your convenience, Sir Joshua. And now," he dismissed the subject and
turned to Olivia, "I must ask forgiveness for having neglected you, Miss
O'Rourke. We men have an incorrigible habit of sacrificing etiquette to mundane
business, which is inexcusable." He drained his glass and a uniformed
aide-de-camp materialised to claim the empty goblet. The Maharaja declined
politely as Sir Joshua ordered a renewal. "It is kind of you to have
indulged my weakness for Glenmorangie, Sir Joshua, but in whisky drinking—if
not in other matters—one must bow to the wisdom of one's wife. The Maharani
disapproves of excesses."
It
was said shyly and with such boyish guilelessness that they all laughed and the
atmosphere became once again convivial. The gentle dismissal contained in the
Maharaja's apology to Olivia, Sir Joshua took in his stride, too buoyant to
care. "Well, if I may now leave Your Highness in Olivia's splendidly
capable hands, there are duties to which I must attend as a host or Lady Bridget
will be extremely cross." He bowed and backed away.
Thoughtfully,
the Maharaja watched the distinguished, imposing form till it merged with the
crowd. "An admirable gentleman, Miss O'Rourke. And a determined one. I am
flattered by the honour Sir Joshua and his colleagues do me as pillars of Her
Majesty's enterprise in the colonies." Whether or not there was sarcasm in
the remark Olivia could not say, because his expression was quite serious.
Then, swiftly, he cast Sir Joshua and his colleagues aside. "Now tell me,
Miss O'Rourke, how do you consider the chances of Mr. Zachary Taylor in the
elections? Is he likely to get the better of Mr. Cass and Mr. Van Buren in this
significant contest when for the first time all your States will vote
simultaneously?"
Olivia
was amazed. "Your Highness keeps in touch with our American presidential
politics?"
"Why
not?" By tacit consent they had started to stroll along the paved path
that adjoined the embankment wall. Although no one approached, the curious eyes
watching were many. Whatever English opinion about native princes in private,
in public they aroused keen interest. Not only did the rulers wield enormous
power over their subjects, but in some cases their kingdoms were larger than
England and certainly richer. "Politics are politics no matter what their
nationality, Miss O'Rourke," Arvind Singh continued, "mainly because
everywhere people are people. Yes, through friends I do maintain an interest in
presidential power play. But you have not answered my question."
"Well,
my father believes that Mr. Taylor has the better chances. He might not be a
seasoned politician, but he is known as a good soldier and his victory at Buena
Vista has already made him a national hero. The Whigs chose him because he
appeals to the common people." She smiled. "They call him Old Rough
and Ready. I guess that is as good a selling slogan as any."
The
Maharaja, listening closely, nodded. "But is he not also a slave owner?
How will he rationalise that when admitting new States into the Union on a
free-or-slave basis?"
Olivia
made a face. "He will change his stance, Papa thinks. In politics, Papa
says, only fools keep principles lifelong. The wise stick only to
expediency." Quickly she added, "He doesn't mean that as a
compliment. Papa has not much respect for politicians."
Arvind
Singh laughed. "Your father is, of course, right. In fact, I must remember
that
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