Read Online The Maharajah's Monkey by Natasha Narayan - Free Book Online Page A

covered with gauze.
    Mr. Prinsep bent over her again, desperately giving her the kiss of life. But to the circle of onlookers it was quite clear that his attempts were futile. Her skin was waxy, mottled with bluish veins. Like the underbelly of a dead fish. Again the gallant man surfaced, to spit out water, and again bent over her, striving to will her to life. I knelt down at her side, urging her on. My fingersbrushed her hand, which was lying limp on the deck. It was clammy, sea-water cold.
    All was lost. The seconds were ticking on and she hadn’t stirred, hadn’t given any sign of life.
    Then, quite miraculously, Celestina Minchin opened her eyes.
    â€œThank—” I began, then fell silent, for Miss Minchin was not looking at me.
    â€œYou saved my life,” she murmured, gazing deep into Mr. Prinsep’s eyes.
    Mr. Prinsep blushed red as a beetroot. “Always wanted to do it,” he sputtered.
    â€œDo what?” I butted in, interested.
    â€œRescue a damsel in distress.”
    A blond, whom I had seen hanging on Mr. Prinsep’s arm at every dance, snorted, her nostrils flaring like a thoroughbred stallion. Then a man with a black bag pushed his way to the front, ordering everyone away. The doctor had finally arrived.
    â€œClear the decks,” he ordered.
    The drama was over. Reluctantly the crowd drifted away, while Miss Minchin was loaded on to a stretcher. Only my aunt, my friends and Mr. Prinsep, were left. Before she was taken away Miss Minchin opened her eyes. This time she
was
looking at me.
    â€œI’m so sorry,” I murmured. “I’m sorry about notsending Rachel to you, sorry about everything.” I paused a moment, unsure and went on, “You shouldn’t have done it.”
    â€œDone what, Kathleen?”
    â€œEr … jump.”
    â€œI didn’t
jump
,” she snapped. ‘I was frightened in that cabin. Frightened that evil thing would come back. So I came out to the prom deck. I leaned over the rails for a breath of air, the ship lurched and before I knew my head was under water.
    â€œAll I wanted was a breath of fresh air and suddenly I was drowning!”

Chapter Eight
    â€œWe really couldn’t accept, Mr. Prinsep,” Miss Minchin twittered. “It’s quite impossible.”
    The damsel who had lain in a soggy bundle on the deck was gone. She had transformed into this fluttering figure, gazing wide-eyed at Mr. Prinsep, as she organized the removal of our luggage. Though she was refusing something, her eyes signaled she badly wanted to accept.
    â€œWe couldn’t impose on you, Mr. Prinsep.”
    â€œOh I say,” protested her savior, “call me Charlie.”
    â€œWe just couldn’t,” she persisted.
    â€œLeast I can do. Hospitality to strangers. All good folk mucking together in the Empire and all that.”
    â€œWhat’s this?” my aunt inquired, bustling up behind us all as we stood on deck, awaiting the coolies who would unload our luggage on to the docks. For you see, we had arrived at Bombay! The gateway to India and a whole new continent of adventure.
    â€œMr. Prinsep … Charles … is so generous,” Miss Minchin replied. “He has offered to put us up. He is engaged as tutor to the young Maharajah of Baroda and he has a whole lodge in the palace grounds at his disposal.” I hadn’t seen so much pretty color in her face for the whole voyage. “Of course I’ve told him it is quite impossible for us to accept.”
    â€œProvidential. We’re heading to Baroda anyway. Save on hotel bills,” Aunt Hilda announced. “Has the Maharajah sent his carriage for you?”
    â€œEr yes, I believe I’ve a two-horse … tikka gharry,” Prinsep replied, pronouncing the words unsurely. “His Highness has also been so good as to send me the Royal Carriage on the Great Indian Peninsular Railway. The very latest word in modern colonial