Read Online Under the Jeweled Sky by Alison McQueen - Free Book Online

carefully checking the indications of each symptom, weighing up the severity of the Second Maharani’s condition before delivering his diagnosis. This particular volume was entitled How Green Was My Valley , and the doctor had found it hard to put down since finding a signed copy tucked away on a shelf in the Maharaja’s library. He made sure to frown occasionally, pinching his chin in thoughtful manner, nodding at the page.
    â€œThere is no rash,” the lady-in-waiting relayed.
    â€œI see.” Dr. Schofield read to the end of the passage, then snapped the book shut. “Hmm,” he mumbled, then got up from the chair and paced around a little before opening his bag and taking out a bottle of plain aspirin adorned with a fussy handwritten label. “Tell Her Highness that she is suffering from vanucitis. She requires complete bed rest, and she is to take one of these every morning for five days. Then she will be as right as rain.”
    The lady scurried back to her mistress with the precious nostrum, another of the doctor’s miraculous cures, proof in itself that the Second Maharani was indeed most unwell, which was all that she wanted.

5
    The Maharaja was away with his entourage, attending the formal celebrations in the capital at the personal invitation of the Viceroy, leaving the depths of the palace deathly quiet. Sophie had been careful to check that the water garden was deserted before she dared to enter its hidden cloister. Not that anyone would be likely to object to her presence today if she were to be caught. There were far more important matters at hand. Today the world was going to change and the whole palace seemed to shudder at the sense of unknowing that pervaded every corner.
    Preparations for the evening were well under way, following the Maharaja’s instructions that the entire household should carry an indelible memory of this historic event, culminating in a grand fireworks display at midnight to mark the very moment when the shackles were broken. With any luck, the rains would break off long enough for everyone to enjoy the spectacle without getting a soaking. The odds were roughly in their favor, the monsoon across this arid tract of India tending to be relatively well-tempered, delivering frequent brief showers that gave little relief to the parched landscape rather than the endless downpours that drenched the southern tropics and the high regions of the far north. The rainy season would be over soon anyway, ushering in long, hot days, dry winds blowing in from the Thar Desert.
    Sophie sat at the edge of the lotus pool regarding her watery reflection and wondered about her appearance. She had asked her mother once, in an unguarded moment, if she thought her pretty, to which her mother had scoffed and proclaimed that vanity was sinful. Veronica Schofield had always dismissed the very idea of beauty and said that to give it any credence was shallow. There were far more important things in life. Beauty was for those people who could afford it and, in her opinion, was invariably bestowed upon those who had little else to offer. The way that her mother had spoken, Sophie had felt utterly ashamed of herself and had wished that she had kept her mouth shut. But it was hard for her to dismiss the question, especially in a place where beauty was so highly prized.
    Gray clouds began to drift across the slab of sky above the water garden, dimming the glare on the pond’s surface. They would gather thickly soon, in an hour perhaps, and the afternoon’s rain would roll in. Not yet, though, thought Sophie. She could sit for a while longer before the downpour started, and she had nothing else to do anyway. She hadn’t felt like resting as her mother had insisted. There was far too much going on. Her mother always rested in the afternoon these days, although Sophie knew this to be just a convenient excuse for her to take herself off and not speak to anyone.
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