A Beggar at the Gate

A Beggar at the Gate

Thalassa Ali

Language: English

Pages: 416

ISBN: 0553584170

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Set in nineteenth-century British India, Thalassa Ali’s dazzling debut, A Singular Hostage, introduced us to Mariana Givens, the Englishwoman who risked everything to save a young Indian orphan from certain death. Now Ali returns to that exotic kingdom beyond the northwestern frontier, where Mariana will come face-to-face with a different destiny.

Two years have passed since Mariana left the walled city of Lahore. But she’s unable to forget its haunting scent of roses or her ill-fated marriage to a native-born husband that has scandalized Calcutta society and made her an outcast among the English. Worse still, she bears the knowledge that she will be forced to give up Saboor—the boy believed to be endowed with magical gifts whose life she risked her own to save.

Now Mariana must revisit Lahore to return Saboor to his family and request a divorce from Hassan Ali Khan. But how can she say good-bye to the enigmatic man whose love defied two cultures—or the child she’s loved as her own? As political and civil strife threaten to erupt in violence, she seeks answers in a world no Englishwoman has ever seen. And she’s driven ever closer to a secret so powerful that it will change her life—and the lives of those she loves—forever.

From the Trade Paperback edition.

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Turned to Mariana. “The bed must be turned sideways to get through the doorway. Your husband must be carried into the courtyard by two men. Will you excuse us?” “Yes, but you must give me a moment.” As soon as the men had gone, Mariana reached inside her clothes to where Safiya Sultana's silvertaweez lay against her bare skin. She tugged the black cord over her head, then bent toward the string bed. Still shuddering as his blood pooled beneath the oldchowkidafs bed, Hassan did not seem to.

Among the rocks Understanding took a moment, but then Mariana cleared her throat. “There is something I can do to help,” she announced. “As soon as it is safe, I will leave here and go to Afghanistan with my uncle and aunt. “Imust, Bhaji,” she added, looking steadily into Safiya's stiffening face. “It is the best hope we have of saving Hassan's life.” “Certainly not,” Safiya replied flatly. “Your wandering like a gypsy over the Punjab during your waiting period will do nothing to protect.

Fat memsahib was not stupid. But if she were not, why had she taken the attack so lightly? Why had she not emerged from the lady's tent shouting with rage, bent upon punishing the man? Ghulam Ali stared down at his knife, remembering what Dittoo had told him: that the English people seemed to abhor the young memsahib's marriage to Hassan Ali Khan, and that as a consequence she had been suffering at their hands. Believing that anyone would be proud to boast a family connection to the Waliullahs,.

Grip of his fingers. But Hassan had been different. He had murmured poetry when he bent forward, his hands on her knees, his eyes on hers. “Oh, Rose, what art thou in the presence of her lovely face? Sweet as musk she is… “Forgive me,” he had breathed into her ear when, at last, he had hurt her. Later, speechless at what she had done, Mariana had fingered the oblong medallion Hassan wore on a gold chain, trying to read its tiny letters by the lamp's flame. “That is Arabic, from the.

Father had been equally brave, his wobbling chin the only indication of his pain as his child's coffin was lowered into its grave. But here, pained voices filled the haveli to bursting, leaving little room for Mariana to think, or to express her own despair. Helpless to offer solace to anyone, even Saboor, who lay open-eyed across her lap, she sat, tearless and paralyzed, waiting for the nightmare to end. “Abba is hurt,” Saboor repeated mournfully. “Oh, darling, I am so sorry” was all she.

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