Ch 25

Ravi Patel closed the shed door and turned to his Aunt Sunila. He had searched every inch of Patel property since Anisha had gone missing. No one knew where she was or where she may have gone.

"She's not here," he said with a shake of his head.

Aunt Sunila, a tall, thin-faced woman nodded and wrung her hands. "She must have gone to Persia, she must have…"

"We both know that isn't true," Ravi mumbled. His eyes swept across the plantation where workers were lumbering off for lunch and escape from the midday sun. "I'll send a telegram before I take the ferry to Chandernagore."

"Ravi, she's not—"

"She is. All night long they watched one another. I should have watched more closely than I did."

Aunt Sunila nodded. "Her father will not be pleased. He had an agreement—"

"I know. She will still marry Girish, Aunt Sunila. I swear to you I will find her and bring her home."

"What are you going to do?"

"Find Anisha," Ravi replied. "And tell Uncle Padir he needs to find a new architect."

His aunt crossed her arms and looked away. "I've always worried about Anisha. What if…what if she gave in to desires?"

Ravi's eyes hardened. "There will be a heavy price to pay. I warned Mr. Levesque several times. To disregard a rule set forth by the house was not a wise decision on his part. He will discover that his employer is not pleased with his most recent work."

O-

Erik lingered outside Corinna and Ursula's door for a moment, his hand resting on the doorknob. He exhaled and closed his eyes. His lurid thoughts about Corinna brought back the memory of the last night he had seen the Sultana.

The recollection made him shudder.

Corinna was not like the Sultana, he told himself. She was kind and gentle, everything he had lost in himself.

She was Mr. Desai's daughter.

She was not his to touch.

With a deep breath, Erik returned to his own room and found his suitcase and leather tubes of drawings shoved into the corner. One tube bearing his initials was crushed between the wall and his toppled suitcase. The sight made him grimace. Two months of sitting hunched over a desk was contained in just three tubes.

Erik groaned and stomped toward the jumble, finding his clothes also scattered on the floor. The lock was broken and one of the corners had cracked. If the plans hadn't been destroyed before they most certainly were ruined now. Erik tossed his suitcase aside and opened the end of the crushed tube, carefully sliding the blueprints out. He took a paperweight from the desk and glanced around for other objects to hold down the corners.

There was nothing small and heavy enough to hold down the corners. Considering his shoes and pocket watch, Erik smirked. Nothing would demonstrate his European class than using shoes for paperweights.

Using his bed as a tabletop, Erik rolled out the plans, silently swearing to himself that he would never travel outside of France again. Decent work was available in Paris. Perhaps he could make amends with Joseph's father and seek recommendation into Ecole, or give up design and become an apprentice for a builder. Even if he had to start by digging up stone or cutting down trees he would do it. He would do whatever it took to make a name for himself. The prestige associated with architecture didn't concern him.

From days spent beneath the sweltering sun, Erik knew he would not be content merely working in carpentry. He enjoyed the company of the workers, but the money wasn't as impressive and there was more labor involved.

Erik thought about what Monsieur DeChantel would say: he was searching for an easy occupation. Perhaps working in an architect's office would prove to be a happy medium.

Once the plans were spread out Erik saw that the damage to them was minor The corners were crushed, but nothing paper tape couldn't repair. A few books placed atop the rolled out plans would smooth the wrinkles.

Erik stepped back and crossed his arms. He was pleased with his plans for what would be Anisha and Girish's home. The three-story Italian-Renaissance palazzo, with its marble façade and perfectly erected atrium ideal for gatherings, would be the talk of Dareesh for years to come. It would be a far cry from the mish-mash bungalow and the wood-sided servant's quarters scattered around the plantation. The palazzo was architectural perfection, which Mr. Patel had foolishly attempted with his one-hundred-year old bungalow and countless additions.

Erik was excited by his plans for the new building. He audaciously praised himself for bringing the order of Europe's Golden Age to India. Of course Calcutta had its share of
Italianate buildings, but his own design was admittedly bold for a private home. Erik was sure Mr. Patel and Mr. Baleeze would be quite pleased with his designs. What better way for such men of wealth to leave their mark on the world than with a palace?

Erik's only regret was that he would not remain to see his designs come into fruition. He had no desire to stay in India longer than need be. If Mr. Patel approved his leave, Erik planned on catching a ship out of India and heading back to France before the interior designs were finalized. Any alterations could be managed through the courier
post.

A soft knock on the door drew his eyes from his plans. Erik realized he had not locked the door as soon as it creaked open

"Ten minutes must be longer on a French watch," Anisha said from the doorway.

Her presence startled him but Erik forced a smile.

"My belongings were just brought up. I thought I had lost my designs." He gestured toward the sheet of paper that was nearly as wide as the double bed. "I'll roll it up and bring it down to the café."

"Why move it? You already have it displayed." She sauntered into his room and craned her neck.

Erik shrugged. He scratched the back of his neck, running his fingernails over the small scar left from his evening with the Sultana.

"I was hoping for a bit of air and something to drink. Corinna mentioned lassi was good, though I'm in the mood for French wine."

Anisha watched him for a moment. She crossed her arms and tapped her fingers on her elbow. "I'll be downstairs."

"Would you mind if Corinna and Ursula joined us?" Erik asked before she turned.

Anisha's mouth hardened but she shook her head. "Not at all."

O-

As the sun set hordes of people ventured out into the cool evening air. From where Corinna, Ursula and Anisha sat in the courtyard they could watch Erik and the Hughli River behind him. The ferries traveling up and down the river twinkled with lantern lights illuminating their path along the river.

"Alright, hold it out," Erik said. He drummed his fists on the table and nodded toward Corinna, who was holding a marigold in her hand.

"Like this?" she asked. She held the flower several inches off the table.

"Perfect." He glanced at the three young women and adjusted his chair. "It will sing to you."

Several couples sitting behind the three ladies had stopped eating to see what sort of tricks the European was performing for his crowd of tittering onlookers. Like the perfect showman, he moved his chair at an angle so the rest of the tables could see his magic tricks. He grinned and spoke louder so everyone could appreciate what he was doing.

Corinna leaned into Ursula and explained to her what was about to happen. Ursula shook her head and swatted her hand at the table.

"What?" Erik asked.

"She said you're teasing us."

"She called you a filthy pig," Anisha added as she leaned back in her chair.

Erik raised a brow. "A pig? Hand her the flower."

Corinna passed the flower to Ursula. For a moment the two argued over who was supposed to hold it. Anisha groaned and threw her head back. She said something in Hindi, to which Ursula snapped back. Corinna put both of her hands out to silence the two of them.

"What's going on?" Erik asked.

"She doesn't want to hold it," Corinna sighed.

Anisha yawned and looked away. "She thinks you're being foolish."

Corinna glared at her cousin. She turned back to Erik. "She thinks you're trying to trick her. I'll hold the flower."

Erik shrugged. He hadn't expected such a struggle between the three of them to do something so simple.

"Hold it close to your ear so you can hear it."

Corinna rolled her eyes.

"What? You don't believe me?"

"Flowers don't talk."

"No," he grinned. "But they sing."

With a closed-lip smile, Corinna put the flower up to her ear and bit her lip.

"Close your eyes."

"No!"

"We are in an open courtyard. What would happen to you?" Erik asked. He gave an aggravated sigh and turned his head to the side.

"Fine." Corinna closed her eyes and drew her shoulders up to her ears as though she expected he would do something to her.

0-

It started out in a faint whisper, a soft little chant that took Corinna by surprise.

La donna è mobile Woman is as wayward
qual piuma al vento, As a feather in the breeze
muta d'accento she changes her tune
e di pensiero.And her mind.
Sempre un amabile A lovable,
leggiadro viso, pretty face
in pianto o in riso, is always deceitful
è mensognero.Whether weeping or smiling

Corinna opened her eyes and the song stopped. She saw Erik smirking, waiting for her to put the flower back to her ear.

"Don't crush me, signora!" the flower exclaimed when she pressed the petals against the side of her face.

"I apologize, sweet flower," she whispered. "What are you singing?"

"Verdi's Rigoletto."

La donna è mobileWoman is as wayward
qual piuma al vento, as a flower in the breeze
muta d'accentoshe changes her tune e di pensier. And her mind
E di pensier, e di pensier! And her mind, and her mind!

Corinna passed the flower to Anisha. "Here, listen."

"It's not really singing," Anisha snapped in Hindi. "You realize that, don't you?"

"There's a voice inside of it," Corinna replied.

Anisha scoffed. "No, there isn't. You're a foolish child."

"Fine, don't listen. Perhaps it will only sing to me."

Anisha rolled her eyes. "Your father spoils you."

"You're just jealous," Corinna muttered. She turned toward Ursula.

Anisha laughed and sat back from her cousin. "Jealous? Of what? A mixed breed whelp?"

"Both of you cease this foolishness. He is only a man," Ursula replied. "And not a very good one. Look at him, the pig singing for a crowd of girls with stars in their eyes."

"Could you hear it?" Erik asked. He sat across the table holding his glass of wine several inches from his lips. "Do you know Rigoletto?"

"He shouldn't waste his time on you," Anisha said under her breath.

Corinna ignored Anisha and spoke in French again. "Will the flower sing more?"

"If you ask nicely," Erik smiled.

"It can hear me?"

"This is ridiculous," Anisha groaned.

"Go to your room if you don't like it," Corinna hissed.

"Do you want to listen too?" Erik asked Anisha.

"No, entertain the little ones," Anisha replied.

Erik stared at her for a moment before he turned his eyes back to Corinna and nodded. "Ready?"

"Don't look," Corinna said. "I want to ask the flower a question."

"A question? About what?"

"That's only for the flower to know."

Corinna turned to her side and cupped her hand around the flower so that Erik couldn't hear her voice. "Little flower, you have a beautiful voice. Would you sing to me forever?" She kissed the petals and turned back to Erik. "I'm ready."

E'sempre misero Anyone who trusts her
chi a lei s'affida, is always wretched
chi le confida, he who confides in her,
mal cauto il core! His heart is broken
Pur mai non sentesi But no one can ever be
felice appieno Completely happy
chi su quel seno, if he does not sip love
non liba amore! On that breast.

La donna è mobile Woman is as wayward
qual piuma al vento, as a feather in the breeze
muta d'accento she changes her tune
e di pensier. And her mind,
E di pensier, e di pensier! And her mind, and her mind!

Corinna pulled the flower back and opened her eyes, turning first to Ursula to tell her what she had heard and then Anisha who was staring at the people passing by. When she turned back to Erik he was attempting not to laugh.

"How did you do that?" Corinna asked.

"A magician never reveals his tricks," Erik replied. He leaned forward and took the flower from her. "If I told you I would have to kill you."

"He entertains you because he feels sorry for you," Anisha said under her breath.

"He ignores you," Corinna pointed out. "You're upset because you aren't the center of attention."

Anisha looked at her sharply before turning away. "If I wanted him all I would have to do is look him in the eye. He would forget you were sitting here."

"Have you forgotten Girish?" Corinna snapped.

"What are you three talking about?" Erik asked. "You worry me when I hear you speaking in a tongue I can't understand."

Anisha turned her attention to Erik and sat forward in her chair. She sipped a glass of water and stared him in the eye. "We were discussing your days in Persia."