Love in the Clouds Read online

  There was a slight pause, and Chandra felt that Lord Frome was smiling as he said,

  “I know you have done a lot of riding in the past, Professor, and I hope you have not neglected such exercise while you have been living here in England.”

  “You are saying it will need hard riding to enter Nepal?”

  “The railway ends at Bairagnia and after that there will be two days at least, over rough mountainous country before the road, if you can give it such a pretentious name, drops down into Kathmandu.”

  “It cannot be worse than a ride I took into Tibet ten years ago,” the Professor remarked. “I often wonder why I was not frozen to death on the passes or lost in the snowstorms that made it almost impossible to find the path after they were over.”

  Lord Frome laughed.

  “One unwary step and you find yourself hurtling down a precipice! Nepal is not as bad as that, although it is called the ‘Roof of the World’.”

  “You reassure me, my Lord,” the Professor said dryly.

  “Here is your ticket for the boat,” Lord Frome went on, “and enough money for your expenses on the voyage. One of my servants will, of course, meet you at Bombay and will have all the reservations already made for you on the train. He will travel with you and look after you, I am certain, to your satisfaction.”

  “I had always heard,” the Professor said, “that you are a very proficient traveller, my Lord.”

  “I am,” Lord Frome replied with some hardness in his voice. “I make my plans well ahead and, if they are not disrupted and the unforeseeable does not happen, everything goes smoothly! Or else I want to know the reason why!”

  “I shall look forward to our collaboration in Nepal,” the Professor said. “I can only hope that as you are always so extremely successful, my Lord, you will not, on this occasion be disappointed.”

  “I very much doubt it,” Lord Frome replied.

  Chandra could hear the two men moving across the room.

  Then they were in the hall and she knew that her father was escorting Lord Frome to the front door.

  She thought of joining them and then decided against it.

  She had the feeling, although she was not quite certain why, that Lord Frome would not be interested in meeting her or in knowing any details of her father’s private life.

  He had certainly shown no awareness that he might be disrupting the Professor’s family, if he had one, by his peremptory demands that he leave almost immediately for Nepal.

  There had been, Chandra thought, something authoritative and determined about Lord Frome’s voice which she resented.

  He was obviously a man who was used to having his own way, a man who gave orders without even contemplating that they might be disregarded.

  He wanted her father and had assumed that he would be willing to do exactly what he wished.

  Of course he had known the Professor would be thrilled to hear about a unique manuscript hitherto unknown. But Chandra thought resentfully, he might have shown a little more humanity.

  He might have apologised for the inconvenience and the nervous strain he would be causing an elderly man by expecting him to leave his home in England at a few days’ notice.

  ‘He just expects Papa to be at his beck and call,’ she told herself.

  As she heard the front door close, she joined her father from the darkened drawing room.

  He was walking back into his study with what she thought was an almost dazed expression on his face.

  “Papa – ” she began only to be interrupted as the Professor said,

  “Did you overhear what was said, Chandra? I thought you might be next door.”

  “Yes, Papa. I was listening.”

  “Just think of it – the Lotus Manuscript! It is something I have heard about and dreamt about ever since I was a boy. I never thought I would see it – actually hold it in my hands!”

  “You cannot be certain you will find that particular manuscript, Papa, but please tell me about it. I don’t seem to remember hearing you speak of it before.”

  The Professor threw himself down onto a leather-covered armchair that was faded and worn, but was still the most comfortable chair in the room.

  “The Lotus Manuscript,” he said, “which is the colloquial name for it amongst those who study Oriental writings, is supposed actually to have been written by one of Buddha’s disciples when he was still alive. It records sayings of Buddha which do not appear in other books. Because it was so sacred to his followers, it was hidden soon after his death in case it should ever get into the wrong hands.”

  “Where was it hidden?” Chandra enquired.

  Her father made an expressive gesture with his hands.

  “It was, I understand, taken from one Lamasery to another, carried over mountains and across rivers, but always treated with great reverence and yet never resting anywhere for long.”

  Chandra knew from her studies of the East that this was typical of those who always suspected there might be thieves to steal what was so precious or, worse still, enemies who would wish only to destroy what they did not understand.

  “Do you really think that anything so valuable could end up in an unimportant Lamasery in Nepal?”

  “We know from the Hodgson collection how unexpectedly important the Buddhist Sanskrit works in Nepal have proved to be,” the Professor replied. “There is no reason why this Lamasery, which now may not be of very great consequence, should not have had, in the past, an Abbot who was trusted by those who were trying to save the Lotus Manuscript.”

  “No, of course, I understand,” Chandra said. “But, Papa, you do realise that this will be a very arduous trip? Do you really think you will be well enough too undertake it? And especially to ride over the mountains?”

  Her father did not answer and she went on,

  “I know you have done it in the past. You have told me so much about your travels, but, Papa, you were much – younger then.”

  “I am not yet in my dotage,” he answered sharply, “and I see no reason why you should imagine I cannot undertake the type of journey I have done a dozen times in the past.”

  Chandra was about to say, ‘because you are so much older,’ then bit back the words.

  She knew by her father’s face that he was enraptured by the idea of what to him would be a voyage of discovery and there was no use trying to persuade him not to do what he wanted. Instead the kindest part she could play would be to help him and see in every way she could to his comfort.

  She moved towards him and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

  “It is very exciting for you, Papa,” she said, “and I only wish I could go with you.”

  “I wish you could too, my dear,” the Professor replied, “and quite frankly I shall miss you.”

  Chandra knew this to be true.

  He would miss her not only because she could attend to him personally but also because he had grown to rely on her in their work together.

  “I am sure you will manage quite well without me,” she said aloud to give him confidence. “There is only one difficulty – what am I going to live on while you are away?”

  She quite expected her father to say that he could not be bothered by such trivialities, but instead he replied,

  “You obviously did not hear what Lord Frome told me after we had left the study.”

  “What was that, Papa?”

  “He said, ‘I forgot to mention, Professor, that of course I insist on paying for your services. Here is a cheque for six hundred pounds and there will be another six hundred pounds for you when you return home with the manuscript to work on’.”

  Chandra drew in her breath.

  “One thousand two hundred pounds, Papa! I can hardly believe it!”

  “It sounds a lot,” her father replied. “At the same time there will be expenses and, of course, we do not know how long it will take me to translate the manuscript.”

  For a moment Chandra was prepared to dismiss this as in
significant.

  What mattered was that she could pay the outstanding bills in the village and also that she and Ellen could exist without starving while her father was away.

  Because she was so pleased, she flung her arms around his neck, kissed him excitedly and cried,

  “This is marvellous, Papa! Really marvellous! I was just wondering how I could tell you as I came home from the village that Mr. Dart had asked for us to pay him something on his long-outstanding account.”

  “Now you can pay the lot!” the Professor said. “And all the other tradespeople to whom we may owe anything.”

  “We owe a good deal,” Chandra said with a smile, knowing how absent-minded her father was about such things. “But everything will be all right now. Oh, Papa, I must go and tell Ellen!”

  She ran off as she spoke to the small kitchen where Ellen, who had been her mother’s maid but now looked after Chandra and the Professor since her death, was preparing tea.

  She was cutting wafer-thin cucumber sandwiches that were her father’s favourite and Chandra knew by the expression on her face that she was worrying, as she always did, about their household problems.

  “Ellen, what do you think?” she exclaimed as she entered the kitchen.

  “What do I think, Miss Chandra?” Ellen replied looking up. “I think you are late for tea, that’s what I think. And there’s a visitor.”

  “The visitor has gone, Ellen,” Chandra replied, “and hold your breath because you will not believe it, but he has left behind him a cheque for six hundred pounds!”

  “Now, Miss Chandra, I want none of your jokes. Money, when you haven’t any, is no laughin’ matter.”

  “I am not joking, but I am laughing, for it is true, Ellen! Lord Frome, Papa’s visitor, has left a cheque for six hundred pounds to pay Papa to go out to Nepal with him.”

  Ellen put down the breadknife and stared at Chandra as if she had taken leave of her senses.

  Then she said,

  “Goin’ out to Nepal? That’s impossible, Miss Chandra, as well you know!”

  “No, it’s true, Ellen. Papa has agreed to go. In fact he is longing to. Do you think it will be too much for him?”

  “It’s not only too much, Miss Chandra, it’ll be the death of the Master – that’s what it’ll be!”

  Chandra did not reply and Ellen went on,

  “Your mother said to me often enough in the past, that those long journeys into outlandish places would kill him before he’s finished. And how do you think he can go gallivanting at his time of life?”

  Chandra looked stricken.

  “I did think it might prove too much for him, Ellen, but he is so thrilled by the idea and quite determined to go. And think of it, we can now pay all our debts! Mr. Dart asked me only this afternoon if we could pay something on account. I told him I would speak to Papa, but I knew there was little hope of settling his bill.”

  “Money’s not everythin’, Miss Chandra!” Ellen sniffed, cutting another piece of bread almost fiercely. “Your father’s a sick man, though he won’t admit it.”

  Chandra sat down on a chair by the table.

  “If he does not go with him, then we shall have to give this money back to Lord Frome. How then are we going to live?”

  “I don’t know, Miss Chandra, and that’s a fact,” Ellen said. “I know your father’s not well enough to go climbin’ mountains and such-like and your mother always said those fevers that left him as weak as a baby did no good to his heart.”

  “You are frightening me, Ellen.”

  “Somebody has to have a head on their shoulders in this household,” Ellen replied.

  She arranged the cucumber sandwiches neatly on a plate and took up the tray on which she had already set a lace-edged cloth and a pretty china tea set.

  The silver they had used in her mother’s day had been sold long ago.

  Ellen always made her father’s tea in exactly the same way as he had had it when her mother was alive.

  Chandra often wondered if he noticed how daintily served everything was and if he would have worried if it had been otherwise.

  Carrying the tray, Ellen walked ahead down the passage and Chandra followed her.

  Only as she reached the hall did she hurry forward to open the door into the study so that Ellen could carry in the tray without having to put it down.

  Her father was sitting where she had left him in the leather-covered armchair and there was a smile on his lips which told Chandra how happy he was about everything.

  “Your tea, sir,” Ellen said, setting it down on a table beside him.

  “Thank you, Ellen. I expect Miss Chandra has told you the exciting news?”

  “It sounds excitin’, sir,” Ellen replied, “but have you thought of how much it’ll tax your strength?”

  “I have been thinking that it will be quite one of the most exciting journeys I have ever undertaken in my life,” the Professor said with satisfaction.

  “I was just calculatin’, sir,” Ellen went on, as if he had not spoken, “that it’s nearly ten years since you last went on a journey of this sort. Then, if you recall, it was to Sikkim.”

  “Ah, yes, I remember it well! It was a very interesting trip, but not quite so rewarding as I had hoped.”

  He looked up at Chandra and added,

  “You will remember I brought back some small Buddhist works which are now in the India Office Library, but they were not as old as we had hoped.”

  “When I read them a few years ago, Papa, they were not early enough to be of real value,” Chandra answered, “at least from a collector’s point of view.”

  “That be ten years ago, sir,” Ellen persisted.

  “All right, Ellen, ten years ago!” the Professor agreed. “But I am still young enough to go to Nepal.”

  “I hopes you will think so when you get there, sir,” Ellen said tartly and, as if she could not continue to speak without saying things she later might be sorry for, she flounced from the room.

  The Professor smiled.

  “Ellen has always wanted to mollycoddle me, just as your mother used to do. Now you, my dear, are far more sensible. You realise this literally is the opportunity of a lifetime and nothing would make me miss it.”

  “No, I understand,” Chandra answered, “and I admit to being very excited myself about the Lotus Manuscript.”

  “You will be able to help me translate it and perhaps this will be the one piece of Sanskrit that will really capture the mind of the modern world.”

  “That would indeed be a miracle,” Chandra said bitterly.

  She knew how little interest was shown in the works her father had already translated, which to her were full of beautiful, inspiring thoughts, which could stimulate and raise the minds of those who understood them towards the stars.

  She knew that where she was concerned, her father’s work, which was often dismissed as ‘dusty old books’, had opened new horizons and brought her an awareness of great spiritual teachings.

  Her father put out his hand and took hers, as she stood beside him.

  “You have been a good daughter to me, Chandra, since your mother died,” he said. “I miss her, I miss her more every day, but I have had you and that has helped a great deal.”

  “I am glad about that, Papa,” Chandra replied, “and whatever Ellen may say, of course you must go on this journey. You will feel like Jason looking for the Golden Fleece and, even if the manuscript is not there when you arrive, there will be the excitement of the search.”

  Her father nodded his head and she thought as she looked at him that there was a new light in his eyes and he looked younger than he had before.

  ‘It is hope that matters when one is getting old,’ she thought to herself, ‘in fact hope at any time of life. It’s a far better tonic than any doctor can provide out of a bottle.’

  She pressed her father’s hand and said,

  “I am going upstairs to the attic now, Papa, to find all the things Mama an
d I packed away when you came back from your journey to Sikkim. We put lots of mothballs with them, so there is no reason why they should not be just as good as when you last wore them. What is more, you have not put on weight, so they should fit you perfectly.”

  Her father laughed and patted his stomach.

  “No, I still have a flat tummy and it will not be hard for a horse to carry me up the mountains.”

  “I shall expect you to keep a diary of everything that happens from day to day,” Chandra said, “so that I can read it when you come home and feel, even if I have been left behind that I have travelled with you.”

  “It is not a journey fit for a woman,” her father said as if he had been half-wishing that she could accompany him.

  “You did not say that when Mama insisted on going with you to Sikkim,” Chandra replied. “And don’t forget, Papa, that I went with you to India when it was so hot that summer on the plains.”

  “You were,” the Professor replied, “a very good traveller, even at a young age.”

  Chandra paused as she opened the door.

  “I suppose Papa,” she said in a rather small voice, “there is no point in asking Lord Frome if I could come with you? After all anyone as important as you is entitled to an assistant, or if you like, I could be your valet.”

  The Professor laughed.

  “I have managed without a valet all my life, but I would certainly like to take you as my assistant! It would, however, be a waste of time to ask Frome, of all people.”

  “Why of all people?” Chandra asked curiously.

  “Because he has a reputation for being a woman-hater. I have heard all sorts of stories about it one way or another. They all say he started travelling around the world in the first place because he had a broken heart.”

  Chandra came back into the room.

  “How fascinating!” she exclaimed. “Do you know who broke it?”

  “I have not the slightest idea,” the Professor replied. “All I know is that Frome is very much a man’s man. Proud, abrupt and seldom troubles to make himself charming to anybody, least of all to women.”

  “How long have you known him, Papa?”

  “Oh, a number of years and our paths have crossed on several occasions. I remember meeting him in India when your mother was with me. She never liked him.”