A Tale of Two Sisters

by Merryn Allingham

  ‘It is, but I am very glad to be here.’

  ‘And we are pleased to have you.’ So far, so polite. ‘Your sister, Miss Lydia, was well liked in the palace. We were very sorry to lose her. Particularly the princesses.’

  ‘I am glad to hear she was so well thought of. But…’ Fatma Hanim’s eyebrows rose and Alice was not brave enough to continue.

  ‘Miss Lydia left a few belongings with us, I believe, and you have come to collect them. Is that so?’

  ‘Yes. I had already planned a trip to this part of the world, and I thought it a good opportunity to visit. I wanted to thank you for your care of Lydia.’ It was a sentiment verging on the hypocritical, but gratitude, even false gratitude, might allow her to pose the questions she was desperate to ask.

  The woman allowed her mouth the hint of a smile. ‘How very kind of you, Miss Verinder. I will convey your good wishes to Sultan Rahîme. Sevda will bring you your sister’s possessions, such as they are, before you leave.’

  It was a clear hint that her stay would not be long. ‘It will be a comfort to have them,’ she said. ‘Then I will be on my way. In a day or two – as soon as I have rested.’

  She hoped this might reassure the Valide Sultan when she was told her unwanted guest could soon be forgotten. Perhaps, though, she would not need to be told. Alice had the uneasy feeling that the woman was listening to their conversation behind one of the open doors.

  ‘You must stay a little longer than a few days. My sister would wish it. Constantinople is a city of great variety. It would be a shame if you were not able to discover its beauty.’

  This was her chance and she grabbed it. ‘The Valide Sultan is most generous. I would love to see more of your wonderful city.’

  ‘That is agreed then. And where do you travel to from Turkey?’

  She was welcome, but only up to a point. Fatma Hanim no doubt had instructions to speak plainly. ‘I have friends in Syria and have arranged to visit them.’ She excused herself the lie.

  ‘That is a beautiful country, too.’ Now that she knew Alice’s visit to be of short duration, her companion appeared to relax and become more expansive. ‘I am sure you will take back to England many happy memories.’

  ‘Have you been to England yourself? And the Valide Sultan?’ Alice found the courage to ask.

  If she were to discover anything of her sister’s disappearance, she had somehow to persuade this woman to speak personally of Sultan Rahîme, though how much contact there had been between her and Lydia she could only guess. It was feasible the Valide Sultan had interested herself in the upbringing of her grandchildren, but had Lydia even met the Sultan’s mother? Or had the woman stayed shrouded in mystery, a silent hand orchestrating events, as she was doing today?

  ‘We are both often in England,’ Fatma announced. ‘We find the shopping very good. We stay at Claridge’s. Do you know it?’

  The mention of Claridge’s effectively brought the conversation to an end. ‘I know it,’ Alice tried to sound suitably casual, ‘though I have never stayed there myself.’ And never would since such luxury was unknown to her family.

  ‘It is a good hotel. And we have friends in Surrey.’ She pronounced Surrey with a violent rolling of the rrs. ‘When we are in England, we spend a weekend with them – they have an estate in the country somewhere. I cannot recall the name…’ Country estates were evidently too numerous to remember.

  ‘But you will wish to wash and change,’ she said suddenly, and Alice realised she was being dismissed.

  There had been no opportunity to ask Rahîme Perestû the questions that troubled her and now she had lost the chance of asking them of the woman’s sister. Fatma Hanim clapped her hands and in a blink of an eye a servant had whisked away the tray, and Sevda had appeared at Alice’s side ready to usher her from the apartment.

  ‘I am to escort you to your room,’ Sevda said. ‘But first I must show you where you may walk in the palace.’

  There it was again, that sense of enclosure. She was not free to wander at will but must be carefully contained. How had Lydia managed, she wondered? Her sister was not a girl for whom containment would come easily. If she had refused, if she had transgressed the palace’s rules… what would have been the consequences?

  Deep in thought, she followed Sevda along the wide corridor and back into the maze of narrow passages until they once more stood outside Lydia’s bedroom. That was how Alice thought of it; the room would always be her sister’s.

  Sevda turned to her. ‘It is important you know when we pray – five times a day. This is when you will find the palace quiet.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘It is also important that you know where you may go. We will visit now the place where you arrived. Please follow me.’

  An echo of Lydia’s spirit emboldened her to ask, ‘Why must I know where to go?’

  ‘Some of the palace is not for women, some is not for men,’ the girl answered reasonably.

  ‘I see. But do the two never meet?’

  ‘For Turkish women, no. But for you it is different. I will show you.’

  Sevda’s speech had subtly changed. Her English now appeared more fluent. Had the girl deliberately hidden her facility with the language? But why on earth would she do that?

  They retraced a path to the large chamber where now even more women were gathered, then along several more corridors until they passed the guard room and reached the courtyard where Sevda had first met her.

  ‘Here you may walk. It is called the Square of Justice.’ The girl waved an arm across the immense space, dotted with the pavilions and kiosks that Alice had glimpsed earlier.

  ‘The courtyard is so large, I doubt I’d get halfway round. Tell me, did Lydia walk here?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘You don’t know? I thought you were her friend.’ Sevda looked down at her feet but said nothing.

  ‘You didn’t know her well then?’ In the face of the girl’s obvious discomfort, Alice was persistent.

  ‘I know her a little.’

  ‘So, you might know where she is?’

  ‘No, Miss Verinder,’ she said firmly, and looked away towards the archway that loomed ahead. ‘You—’

  ‘Do you know why she left the palace?’ Alice interrupted.

  The girl’s eyes flickered, but she gave a swift shake of the head. ‘No,’ she said even more firmly. ‘You may walk also beyond the Gate of Felicity.’ Sevda pointed to an opening in the adjacent wall. It was as though Alice’s questions had been rubbed from the slate. ‘The archway leads to a third courtyard. You will find the library there – it is the second building you come to. You must not enter the first building. That is the Sultan’s Audience Chamber. The Sultan hears petitions there – from Constantinople and from all over the empire. People travel far to speak to him. The empire stretches thousands of miles, you know.’ There was pride in her voice.

  Alice nodded, thinking that for now she must relinquish her probing, but later she would press Sevda again. She had read a good deal about the empire before her sister left for Turkey. It was why she had chosen to name Syria, an integral part of Ottoman lands, as a place to which she intended to travel.

  ‘I would like to see the Audience Chamber for myself,’ she said half mischievously. ‘Perhaps one day I might explore there.’

  Sevda looked horrified, but then pointed to a smaller opening at one corner of the colonnade. ‘Through there is a beautiful garden. You may walk there if you wish, although our garden in the haremlik is nicer, I think. It has also a bathing pool.’ The girl grinned, looking suddenly much younger. ‘Maybe I show you later.’

  ‘That would be kind.’

  Alice felt unaccountably cheered by the grin. It suggested that Sevda might after all be a friendly presence. Until now, she had been too confused by the immensity of the palace, the strangeness of its furnishings, the unfamiliarity of its inhabitants, to think much of how she would cope for the rest of her stay. But now she thou
ght of the days ahead and was glad to have Sevda by her side. Friendly presences had so far been thin on the ground.

  ‘Now we must return,’ her companion said. ‘Naz has unpacked your suitcase and you will wish to change.’

  They had moved a little way into the courtyard so that Alice might see the narrow opening that led to the garden, but as they turned to walk back into the harem, a man erupted through the Gate of Felicity and began to march across the open courtyard. He appeared to be making for the main gates of the palace, but was walking so fast, looking down at the ground and muttering to himself, that he almost bumped into them. Sevda clutched Alice’s arm and edged her to one side. She noticed the girl was swift to draw her veil tightly across her face.

  The man became aware of them then, pulling up sharply and beginning to apologise for his clumsiness, or so Alice imagined, since she could not understand one word of the Turkish. He was mid-sentence when he stopped speaking and stood stone-like, staring at her.

  Sevda plucked at Alice’s sleeve. ‘We must go, Miss Verinder.’

  ‘Verinder?’ The man pounced on the name. ‘You are Miss Verinder?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said uneasily. His whole attitude was too intense and it was scaring her.

  ‘You are family to Lydia?’

  She stared back at him, for a moment too shocked to speak. How could this man know Lydia? ‘You are acquainted with my sister?’

  ‘Sister? That is right. I saw it immediately.’ He peered at her closely and nodded his head. She had long considered the resemblance between herself and her beautiful young sister to be minimal, but it was evident this young man thought differently. ‘Lydia spoke of you.’

  Sevda had given up tugging at her sleeve and when Alice turned to speak to her, she saw the girl had disappeared back into the haremlik.

  ‘I am Ismet Kaya,’ he said. ‘I am a friend of your sister’s.’

  Brown eyes held her in a warm gaze. He was a very attractive man, she decided, in his own way as beautiful as Lydia. It was unsurprising they had become friends. His appearance in the palace was another piece of luck, or maybe it was simply that this world was such a small one, she was bound to meet people her sister had known. He had spoken in the present, which surely meant he would have Lydia’s direction.

  ‘Do you know her well?’ she asked eagerly.

  ‘Once maybe.’

  It was an odd response, but Alice was too excited to question it. ‘Do you know where she is?’

  His face clouded. ‘I am sorry, no. I’ve not seen her for many months. I have not myself been to the palace for a long time. I was dismissed from my work in the library – that is where I first met your sister.’

  ‘I have been told she went away – suddenly.’

  ‘I heard this, too, from gossip in the city. I thought it strange. Do you believe the story?’

  She knew nothing of this man, other than his name, and it was possible he was a palace official ready to report her every word. ‘It is strange,’ she said cautiously. ‘It would be quite unlike Lydia to disappear, not without telling her family where she was going.’

  There was a long silence and then she decided to take a chance. ‘Did she ever mention her plans to you, Mr Kaya?’

  ‘Ismet, please. No, she said nothing. I imagined she would make her life here, at least for a while. But as I say, we have not spoken for over a year.’ He fixed her with a clear gaze. ‘When I heard she had left so suddenly, I tried to find out what had happened, but there is a very big wall, Miss Verinder.’

  ‘In what way, a wall?’

  ‘Silence. Secrets. Things not spoken of. And I am in no position to find out. Since my dismissal, I have not been welcome at the palace.’

  ‘But you are here today – why is that?’ Her question verged on the impolite and she surprised herself in asking it.

  Ismet looked around him. A servant passed by and vanished into a far doorway, but otherwise the courtyard was empty. He seemed satisfied. ‘I know I can trust you. I remember what Lydia said – that her sister was the most honourable person she knew.’

  She felt a sudden emptiness in the pit of her stomach. Did she really want to be party to this man’s secrets? She had barely met him.

  ‘I am here on behalf of a friend, but also to talk to whoever is willing, to discover the information I need. We need.’

  Who were the mysterious ‘we’? Despite her fear of being embroiled in the young man’s plans, she needed to know more. ‘What information?’ she asked aloud.

  ‘There is corruption. Everywhere. And I must help the CUP to root it out.’

  She looked at him blankly and he shook his head, as though chastising himself. ‘Of course, you will not know this group. It is the Committee of Union and Progress. Here we are known as the Young Turks.’

  ‘I see,’ she said, though she remained as much in the dark as ever.

  ‘The group I belong to is outlawed,’ he said flatly. ‘But not outwitted. There are many small cells in Constantinople, all of them active. We work to gain democracy for the empire. That is not popular.’

  ‘I imagine not. But your being in the palace – is that wise?’

  ‘Not at all wise, but if I am stopped, I have good reason to be here. I have brought clothes for my friend. Yesterday he was detained by the Sultan’s secret police, accused of holding street rallies and of being a member of the CUP.’

  ‘But you are a member, too, yet you walk freely.’

  ‘I am suspected, but nothing so far is proved. Only you and my friend in this whole building know of my allegiance.’

  It was a sudden and disturbing responsibility. ‘I will say nothing,’ she was quick to say.

  ‘That is what I believed. You are Lydia’s sister.’

  Somewhere, deep within Alice, an alarm sounded. Lydia and politics. Surely not again. Not after all the letters, the deplorable interviews, the humiliation of begging for her sister’s pardon.

  ‘Did Lydia know that you belong to such a group?’ She knew the answer already but clung to the hope that she was wrong.

  ‘But naturally. She was most enthusiastic. For a woman, she had much political knowledge.’

  What mess had her sister landed herself in now? ‘Out of the frying pan, into the fire’ was an overused proverb, but it fitted perfectly. From the corner of her eye, she became aware of two large men in palace uniforms emerging from the archway that Ismet had passed through earlier and beginning to walk towards them.

  Ismet had seen them, too. His expression changed and he sounded agitated. ‘We cannot speak now. I will contact you. We must talk more.’

  She was unsure she wanted to talk more. At this moment she felt angry and resentful. She had worked hard, abased herself, to give Lydia a new start and what had she done but fallen into the exact same trap? It was a script familiar to Alice – her sister seemed destined to repeat her mistakes. There had been a boy in Bournemouth, she remembered, a boy so unsuitable it was hard to imagine Lydia could have befriended anyone worse. The family had been holidaying in the town and Lydia had fallen madly in love and written him compromising letters, whereupon he’d demanded payment for them – or he would take them to her appalled parents. It had been Alice who had confronted him, not to pay him off but to threaten him with the police in a clear case of blackmail. And what had Lydia done? A few days later, she had sought him out again. Not only that but taken with her the few pounds she had saved from her small quarterly allowance. She had felt sorry for him, she said.

  Had she felt sorry for Ismet, too? Alice stopped herself mid-thought. She was going too fast, assuming too much. Lydia might not have met with trouble of a political kind. It might simply be that in Ismet Kaya she had recognised a kindred spirit and shared with him her interest.

  She turned her back on the two guards, who by now were standing only paces away, and walked back through the harem door. She would retrace the journey she had made with Sevda, fairly certain the men would not follow. Whether she would find h
er way back to the room, to Lydia’s room, was another matter.

  ‘Mees Werinder.’

  It was Naz, the slave girl. Naz, at her elbow. From where had she materialised? Had the girl been watching her? She must have been, and a small shiver passed along Alice’s spine. But she said nothing and allowed herself to be steered along the narrow passageways to her bedroom. When she turned to thank her guide, the slave lowered her gaze, but not before Alice had seen the greediness in her eyes. Greedy for what, though? She had no idea, but she knew she did not like her.

  Chapter Seven

  LYDIA

  Constantinople, August, 1905

  After three days in the haremlik, Lydia felt bemused. Both by the vastness of the place and by the huge number of women who lived beneath its roof. She had already met a number of them in the space that functioned as a communal living room, and they had been charming and courteous to the stranger in their midst. One, Sevda, had been especially kind. She was a young woman, around Lydia’s own age, and fabulously beautiful if you dared look long enough. But like all the harem’s female inhabitants, she was covered from head to toe in a way that made discovery difficult. But Lydia could see enough to be fascinated – a graceful bearing, beautiful skin, kohl- edged eyes and fingernails half painted with henna.

  She was very different from Naz, the girl appointed to wait on her. Lydia had disliked Naz on sight and nothing since had made her change her mind.

  ‘Do I have to have a servant?’ she had asked Sevda after her first day.

  ‘Naz is a slave. She must serve,’ Sevda had replied.

  ‘But I hate the whole idea of having a slave, particularly one who doesn’t like me.’

  ‘You are wrong, Miss Lydia. Naz does not dislike you. You are her mistress and she must do her job. Her family is very poor and have sold her so she can have a better future.’

  ‘A better future as a slave!’ Lydia could not help raising her voice. It was an extraordinary claim.