Love In The Clouds

CHAPTER ONE 1895-2

“A different way?” her father asked in a puzzled tone.

“In the past,” Lord Frome said, “I have brought to you manuscripts I have discovered in Tibet and the Himalayas, and you have translated them for me with an expertise which, if I may say so, is unrivalled anywhere in the Western world.”

“That is very kind of you,” Chandra heard her father say and knew how much he enjoyed the compliment.

“But, as this manuscript is so precious, so different from anything I have found before,” Lord Frome went on, “I not only want you to translate it for me but first to help me find it.”

“Find it?” the Professor echoed.

“To be quite frank,” Lord Frome said, “I am not certain that I would recognise it if I saw it.”

There was silence for a moment and Chandra was sure that her father was looking at Lord Frome with a perplexed expression on his face.

“What I mean, Professor,” Lord Frome said, as if in answer to an unvoiced question, “is that you should come with me to Nepal.”

“Do you think that is where the manuscript is to be found?” Professor Wardell asked.

“My informant tells me that it is in a Lamasery in the mountains beyond Kathmandu. He is almost certain that the Abbot and the monks have no idea of the value of what they have in their possession. In fact he thinks they are not men of great learning but of a deep piety.”

“That, of course, should make the acquisition of it easier,” the Professor said in a practical manner.

“That is what I thought,” Lord Frome agreed. “At the same time I am told that there are hundreds, if not thousands of manuscripts in this Lamasery and unless I intend to spend a number of years there searching through them, I must have your help.”

“You are really asking me to go with you to Nepal? I have heard that it’s very difficult to enter that country.”

“It is,” Lord Frome agreed. “In fact few Europeans have been permitted access with the exception of the British Resident.”

“Of course,” the Professor said. “Sir Brian Hodgson was the British Resident until, I think, 1843.”

“Correct!” Lord Frome said, “but then unfortunately, owing to the bungling of Lord Ellenborough, he resigned and afterwards, as you know, became something of a recluse in Darjeeling where he did the most amazing work on Sanskrit manuscripts.”

“Of course, of course! I have seen most of those that he presented to the Royal Asiatic Society and the Indian Office Library.”

“So have I,” Lord Frome agreed, “both fantastic collections and for which posterity should be extremely grateful.”

“I doubt that!” the Professor murmured, but Lord Frome went on,

“There is a British Resident in Nepal at the moment. Fortunately he has persuaded the Prime Minister to give permission for me and an assistant to enter the country. We are not supposed to stay long, but I understand that once we are there it may be possible to extend our time limit.”

“You make it sound easier than I expected,” the Professor remarked.

“Nothing is easy when you are dealing with the Orient,” Lord Frome replied. “We shall just have to take things step by step. The first stage is that we have permission to visit Nepal for a limited time.”

“The Nepalese will not make difficulties about removing one of their treasures?” the Professor questioned.

“I doubt if they know the value of them, not of course in terms of money, but in intellectual importance,” Lord Frome answered. “I don’t need to tell you, Professor, that if we find, as I hope we shall, the Lotus Manuscript as you and I call it, the whole thinking world will ultimately benefit.”

“We can but pray,” the Professor said, “that your informant has not been beguiled by false information.”

“I have a hunch, and I follow my hunches, that we will find what we seek and somehow we will bring it back here so that you can work on it.”

Her father’s visitor must have risen as he spoke, for Chandra heard a chair scraped back.

Then Lord Frome said,

“I am leaving tonight, but I hope you will be able to join me as quickly as possible at Bairagnia.”

“How shall I do that?” Professor Wardell enquired.

“I took the liberty,” Lord Frome replied, “because of the urgency of my quest, of booking a cabin for you on the P & O liner Bezwada, which will be leaving Southampton next Wednesday. By the time you reach Bombay, I shall have already set off for the North, but I will wait for you at Bairagnia.”

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 insignificant.