'I don't suppose a respectable woman will help us out much. Not unless you want a spot of polite conversation.
Lawford stared aghast at Sharpe. 'What we should do, the Lieutenant said softly, 'is find this man Ravi Shekhar. He may have a way of getting news out of the city.
'And how the hell are we supposed to find him? Sharpe asked defiantly. 'We can't wander the bloody streets asking for this fellow in English. No one will know what the heck we're doing! I'll ask Mary to find him when we see her. He grinned. 'Bugger Shekhar. How about a bibbi instead?
'Maybe I'II read.
'Your choice, Sharpe said carelessly.
Lawford hesitated, his face reddening. 'It's just that I've seen men with the pox, he explained.
'Christ! You've seen men vomit, but it don't stop you drinking. Besides, don't worry about the pox. That's why God gave us mercury. The stuff worked for bloody Hakeswill, didn't it? Though God knows why. Besides, Harry Hickson says he knows some clean girls, but of course they always say that. Still, if you want to ruin your eyes reading the Bible, go ahead, but there ain't no mercury that will give you your sight back.
Lawford said nothing for a few seconds. 'Maybe I will come with you, he finally said shyly, staring down at the table.
'Learning how the other half lives? Sharpe asked with a grin.
'Something like that, Lawford mumbled.
"Well enough, I tell you. Give us some cash and a willing couple of frows and we can live like kings. We'll make this the last drink, eh? Don't want to lower the flag, do we?
Lawford was now deep red. 'You won't, of course, tell anyone about this when we're back?
'Me? Sharpe pretended to be astonished at the very idea. 'My lips are gummed together. Not a word, promise.
Lawford worried that he was letting his dignity slide, but he did not want to lose Sharpe's approval. The Lieutenant was becoming fascinated by the younger man's confidence, and envied the way in which Sharpe so instinctively negotiated a wicked world and he wished he could find the same easy ability in himself. He thought briefly of the Bible waiting back in the barracks, and of his mother's advice to read it diligently, but then he decided to hell with them both. He drained his arrack, picked up his musket and followed Sharpe into the dusk.
Every house in the city was prepared for the siege. Storehouses were filled with food and valuables were being hastily concealed in case the enemy armies broke through the wall. Holes were dug in gardens and filled with coins and jewellery, and in some of the wealthier houses whole rooms were concealed by false walls so that the women could be hidden away when the invaders rampaged through the streets.
Mary helped General Appah Rao's household prepare for that ordeal. She felt guilty, not because she came from the army that was imposing this threatened misery on the city, but because she had unexpectedly found herself happy in Rao's sprawling home.
When General Appah Rao had first taken her away from Sharpe she had been frightened, but the General had taken her to his own house and there reassured her of her safety. 'We must clean you, the General told her, 'and let that eye heal. He treated her gently, but with a measure of reserve that sprang from her dishevelled looks and her presumed history. The General did not believe that Mary was the most suitable addition to his household, but she spoke English and Appah Rao was shrewd enough to reckon that a command of English would be a profitable accomplishment in Mysore's future and he had three sons who would have to survive in that future. 'In time, Rao told Mary, 'you can join your man, but it's best he should settle in first.
But now, after a week in the General's household, Mary did not want to leave. For a start the house was filled with women who had taken her into their care and treated her with a kindness that astonished her. The General's wife, Lakshmi, was a tall plump woman with prematurely grey hair and an infectious laugh. She had two grown unmarried daughters and, though there was a score of female servants, Mary was surprised to discover that Lakshmi and her daughters shared the work of the big house. They did not sweep it or draw water — those tasks were for the lowest of the servants — but Lakshmi loved to be in the kitchen from where her laughter rippled out into the rest of the house.
It had been Lakshmi who had scolded Mary for being so dirty, had stripped her from her western clothes, forced her into a bath and there untangled and washed her filthy hair. 'You'd be beautiful if you took some trouble, Lakshmi had said.
'I didn't want to draw attention to myself.
'When you're my age, my dear, no one pays you any attention at all, so you should take all you can get while you're young. You say you're a widow?
'He was an Englishman, Mary said nervously, explaining the lack of the marriage mark on her forehead and worried lest the older woman thought she should have thrown herself onto her husband's pyre.
'Well, you're a free woman now, so let's make you expensive. Lakshmi laughed and then, helped by her daughters, she first brushed and then combed Mary's hair, drawing it back and then gathering it into a bun at the nape of her neck. A cheerful maid brought in an armful of clothes and the women tossed cholis at her. 'Choose one, Lakshmi said. The choli was a brief blouse that covered Mary's breasts, shoulders and upper arms, but left most of her back naked and Mary instinctively selected the most modest, but Lakshmi would have none of it. 'That lovely pale skin of yours, show it off! she said, and chose a brief choli patterned in extravagant swirls of scarlet flowers and yellow leaves. Lakshmi tugged the short sleeves straight. 'So why did you run with those two men? Lakshmi asked.
'There was a man back in the army. A bad man. He wanted to. Mary stopped and shrugged. 'You know.
'Soldiers! Lakshmi said disapprovingly. 'But the two men you ran away with, did they treat you well?
'Yes, oh yes. Mary suddenly wanted Lakshmi's good opinion, and that opinion would not be good if she thought that Mary had run from the army with a lover. 'One of them' — she told the lie shyly — 'is my half-brother.
'Ah! Lakshmi said as though everything was clear now. Her husband had told her that Mary had run with her lover, but Lakshmi decided to accept Mary's story. 'And the other man? she asked.
'He's just a friend of my brother's. Mary blushed at the lie, but Lakshmi did not seem to notice. 'They were both protecting me, Mary explained.
'That's good. That's good. Now, this. She held out a white petticoat that Mary stepped into. Lakshmi laced it tight at the back, then began hunting through the pile of saris.
'Green, she said, 'that'll suit you, and she unfolded a vast bolt of green silk that was four feet wide and over twenty feet long. 'You know how to wear a sari? Lakshmi asked.
'My mother taught me.
'In Calcutta? Lakshmi hooted. 'What do they know of saris in Calcutta? Skimpy little northern things, that's all they are. Here, let me. Lakshmi wrapped the first length of sari about Mary's slender waist and tucked it firmly into the petticoat's waistband, then she wrapped a further length about the girl, but this she skilfully nicked into pleated folds that were again firmly anchored in the petticoat's waistband. Mary could easily have done the job herself, but Lakshmi took such pleasure in it that it would have been cruel to have denied her. By the time the pleats were tucked in about half of the sari had been used up, and the rest Lakshmi looped over Mary's left shoulder, then tugged at the silk so that it fell in graceful folds. Then she stepped back. 'Perfect! Now you can come and help us in the kitchens. We'll burn those old clothes.
In the mornings Mary taught the General's three small boys English. They were bright children and learned quickly and the hours passed pleasantly enough. In the afternoons she helped in the household chores, but in the early evening it was her job to light the oil lamps about the house and it was that duty that threw Mary into the company of Kunwar Singh who, at about the same time as the lamps were lit, went round the house ensuring that the shutters were barred and the outer doors and gates either locked or guarded. He was the chief of Appah Rao's bodyguard, but his duties were more concerned the the household than with the General who had enough soldiers surrounding him wherever he went in the city. Kunwar Singh, Mary learned, was a distant relation of the General, but there was something oddly sad about the tall young man whose manners were so courteous but also so distant.