Page 35 of The Henna Artist

“What—H-how? Mysister?” With Ravi? What nonsense was this? Radha doesn’t even know the boy!

Parvati crooked a finger and Radha came out of the shadows. Her face was flushed, her mouth pinched in anger. Were those welts on her cheek? On closer inspection, they appeared to be slashes of blue paint. Her arm had the same streaks. My heart hammered in my chest. “Radha, what happened?”

“I won’t allow my family to be touched by scandal. I have my son’s future to think of.” Parvati resumed her pacing.

I waited for Radha to say something, anything. But her eyes were focused on some spot far away, not in this room, the way they had in the Sharmas’ courtyard. It was as if her mind were somewhere else.

Parvati hissed, “She was covered in Ravi’s greasepaint. What am I to believe but the obvious?”

Greasepaint? The evening flashed before me: Radha and me with the girls in the drawing room, she and I standing together at the back windows, having dinner on the roof, watching the play. I looked more closely at the blue marks on my sister. When did she have time to be with Ravi? Surely there had to be some other explanation?

“What did Ravi say about all this?”

Parvati hesitated. “He doesn’t have to say anything.”

My breath tightened. “Did you ask him?”

She pointed her forefinger at me. “You know as well as I do men can’t control themselves. It is up to women to stay out of their way. If your sister had been brought up properly, she might know that.”

Nudging my sister’s arm, I said quietly, “Go. Clean your face.”

Radha glared at me for an instant, then went out the door, slamming it behind her.

I swallowed, gave myself time to think. “Parvati-ji. Please. Sit down,” I said. “I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding. Radha is only thirteen. Much too young to...”

Parvati slowed her pacing.

“Your Ravi, such a mature boy—indeed, young man—can’t be interested in a girl like my sister. He is completely taken with Sheela. Did you see how perfect they looked together onstage? What a handsome couple they’ll make when they’re married.” I indicated the sofa. “Please,Ji.”

Abruptly, she sat down on the leather couch with a heavy sigh. “If my late father were with us today, he’d know what to do. Everyone listened to him. But I can’t get Samir to—” Her voice cracked. She looked at me with moist eyes. “What were you and Samir doing in the library earlier?”

Parvatihadbeen at the library door.

I folded my hands together. “He was telling me how generous you had been in recommending me to the palace. I’m truly in your debt. If not for your relation to the royal family...” I let the implication hang.

She looked away. I was lying and she knew I was lying, but no matter. The truth was less important than saving face. If she’d kept her end of the bargain and spoken to the palace on my behalf, I wouldn’t have had to ask Samir to intervene. She could no more admit that she hadn’t fulfilled her promise of a palace introduction than I could admit that I had asked Samir for help.

She pouted, straightening a pillow on the sofa, smoothing the tiny beads embroidered on the silk. “I’ve seen you two talking, before—on the veranda. What could you and Samir have in common?” Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet mine. I saw something I’d never seen before: trepidation. As if she wondered what secrets her husband kept from her. And possibly, what secrets I kept from her. All she knew about me was that I had come highly recommended by the wives of Samir’s business associates in Agra.

I held my palms open, showing I had nothing to hide. “He likes to ask what I painted on you and where. I always tell him that’s for him to find out.”

She allowed herself a hint of a smile, perhaps recollecting a lusty afternoon with her husband. She touched the diamonds on her earlobe. “How did I not know you had a sister?” The same question Kanta and my seamstress had asked.

I sighed. “Parvati-ji, why would I bore my clients with the petty details of my life? But since you ask. Both my parents died recently, and I’ve taken Radha into my home. She’s working with me now, but she will attend the government school this coming term.”

Parvati picked at a loose thread on the pillow. If she kept pulling it, hundreds of beads no larger than poppy seeds would scatter across the floor.

I smiled with more confidence than I felt. “I’m certain nothing untoward has happened, but I’ll talk to Radha.” By degrees, I could see Parvati’s anger cooling, reluctantly, although she still looked peeved. It was time to press my credentials. “Have I ever let you down in the past ten years? And what about your miracle? Your Govind?”

Parvati’s face brightened at her son’s name.

“It’s important that I win back your trust,Ji. You’ve done so much for me over the years. Introduced me to the best of society.”

She closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips against her lids. To save face, she needed to deliver the parting shot. “If I catch them together, ever again, it will be the last time you and I have anything to do with one another.” In her indirect way, I knew she was also warning me:stay away from my husband.

Blood pounded on my temples and my stomach felt queasy, but I tipped my chin serenely to indicate that there would never be a need for her to carry out her threat.

Regal once again, she rose, threw herpalluover her shoulder and walked out. Alone in the library, I let myself collapse onto the sofa. Perspiration had soaked my blouse. I used a corner of my sari to dab my forehead and neck. I had seen Parvati angry before, but never more so than today, and never had her anger been directed at me. I found it hard to believe that a simple village girl like Radha, not in the same league as Sheela Sharma, could have attracted Ravi’s attention. If, in fact, that was what had happened.

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