reckoning.
“I did not mean to offend, Lady Bromley,” Ranjit said after his mother had excused herself to go to her husband’s side. “Emily would brighten the stone more than the reverse. It would look quite lovely with her eyes.”
This comment left my mother speechless, but only for a moment. “Cursed, you say?”
“Yes, a dreadful matter, really,” Ranjit said. “Apparently, the diamond was originally set into the tika for the wedding of a princess in the sixteenth century—someone who, according to legend, was nearly as beautiful as my own sister. It was part of her dowry. She resisted the marriage, having fallen in love with some unsuitable person, and tried to persuade her parents not to force the match.”
“She sounds like a great deal of trouble,” my mother said.
“Oh, she was, Lady Bromley, I assure you,” Ranjit continued, his eyes dancing. “Her parents would not cave to her pleas, and the wedding occurred as scheduled, at the appointed auspicious hour. The bride wept through the entire ceremony and the next morning, when her servants came to bring her breakfast, she was dead, clutching the diamond tika in her cold hand.”
“Dear me,” my mother said.
“No one could explain why she had died,” Ranjit said, the tone of his voice rich. We hung on his every word, and I realized I was leaning in to better hear him. “There was no sign of illness or poison or foul play of any sort. The prince, her husband, agreed soon thereafter to marry his dead wife’s sister.” My mother shifted uncomfortably and Ranjit nodded at her. “I agree, Lady Bromley, it was not a desirable course of action. The second wedding took place after a suitable period of mourning, but within a year, the poor prince had lost a second wife, again with no obvious explanation as to the cause of her death. Like her sister, she was found clutching the Star of the East.”
My mother shuddered.
“This time, the prince sought the advice of a wise man, who told him, after consulting or praying or whatever it is that wise men do, that his first wife had cursed the stone, and anyone who wore it would fall dead within a year.”
“How terrible,” my mother said. “Yet your sister wears it.”
“As did my mother before her,” Ranjit said. “The sage old man gave the prince a golden bangle. Engraved on it were the words of a spell of protection. If one were to wear the bangle on her left arm at the same time as she wore the diamond, no harm would come to her.”
“Would any bangle with the correct spell on it serve?” I asked.
“No,” Ranjit said. “This particular bangle was fashioned from gold said to have been worked by the gods themselves. No other bangle could offer the slightest protection.”
“And the prince believed this?” I asked. “Gullible man.”
“Don’t be rude, Emily,” my mother said.
“I would agree with your daughter if I did not know the rest of the story,” Ranjit said. “The wise man’s words proved true. When the prince’s daughter—born before the death of his second wife—grew up and was a bride, she wore the diamond with the bangle, and lived to see her grandchildren’s children. From that time on, our brides have always worn the combination when they are married, and sometimes, as you see tonight, before then.”
“What a lovely story,” my mother said.
“Lovely?” I asked.
“Quite,” she said. “The end is perfectly agreeable.” She gave Ranjit a little pat on the arm. “You are good to keep us so well entertained. And I suppose your sister is wearing the bangle tonight?”
“She is indeed, Lady Bromley. If you ask her, I am certain she will point it out to you.”
“I would not want to ask her to—”
“Nothing would give her greater pleasure than to show it off,” Ranjit said. Almost before the words were out of his mouth, she had crossed the room to where Sunita was standing with Colin, my father, Mr. Benton, and the maharaja. My mother gestured
“I did not mean to offend, Lady Bromley,” Ranjit said after his mother had excused herself to go to her husband’s side. “Emily would brighten the stone more than the reverse. It would look quite lovely with her eyes.”
This comment left my mother speechless, but only for a moment. “Cursed, you say?”
“Yes, a dreadful matter, really,” Ranjit said. “Apparently, the diamond was originally set into the tika for the wedding of a princess in the sixteenth century—someone who, according to legend, was nearly as beautiful as my own sister. It was part of her dowry. She resisted the marriage, having fallen in love with some unsuitable person, and tried to persuade her parents not to force the match.”
“She sounds like a great deal of trouble,” my mother said.
“Oh, she was, Lady Bromley, I assure you,” Ranjit continued, his eyes dancing. “Her parents would not cave to her pleas, and the wedding occurred as scheduled, at the appointed auspicious hour. The bride wept through the entire ceremony and the next morning, when her servants came to bring her breakfast, she was dead, clutching the diamond tika in her cold hand.”
“Dear me,” my mother said.
“No one could explain why she had died,” Ranjit said, the tone of his voice rich. We hung on his every word, and I realized I was leaning in to better hear him. “There was no sign of illness or poison or foul play of any sort. The prince, her husband, agreed soon thereafter to marry his dead wife’s sister.” My mother shifted uncomfortably and Ranjit nodded at her. “I agree, Lady Bromley, it was not a desirable course of action. The second wedding took place after a suitable period of mourning, but within a year, the poor prince had lost a second wife, again with no obvious explanation as to the cause of her death. Like her sister, she was found clutching the Star of the East.”
My mother shuddered.
“This time, the prince sought the advice of a wise man, who told him, after consulting or praying or whatever it is that wise men do, that his first wife had cursed the stone, and anyone who wore it would fall dead within a year.”
“How terrible,” my mother said. “Yet your sister wears it.”
“As did my mother before her,” Ranjit said. “The sage old man gave the prince a golden bangle. Engraved on it were the words of a spell of protection. If one were to wear the bangle on her left arm at the same time as she wore the diamond, no harm would come to her.”
“Would any bangle with the correct spell on it serve?” I asked.
“No,” Ranjit said. “This particular bangle was fashioned from gold said to have been worked by the gods themselves. No other bangle could offer the slightest protection.”
“And the prince believed this?” I asked. “Gullible man.”
“Don’t be rude, Emily,” my mother said.
“I would agree with your daughter if I did not know the rest of the story,” Ranjit said. “The wise man’s words proved true. When the prince’s daughter—born before the death of his second wife—grew up and was a bride, she wore the diamond with the bangle, and lived to see her grandchildren’s children. From that time on, our brides have always worn the combination when they are married, and sometimes, as you see tonight, before then.”
“What a lovely story,” my mother said.
“Lovely?” I asked.
“Quite,” she said. “The end is perfectly agreeable.” She gave Ranjit a little pat on the arm. “You are good to keep us so well entertained. And I suppose your sister is wearing the bangle tonight?”
“She is indeed, Lady Bromley. If you ask her, I am certain she will point it out to you.”
“I would not want to ask her to—”
“Nothing would give her greater pleasure than to show it off,” Ranjit said. Almost before the words were out of his mouth, she had crossed the room to where Sunita was standing with Colin, my father, Mr. Benton, and the maharaja. My mother gestured
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