by Beth Elliot
Rose was still breathless. There was so much to understand. She opened her mouth but could not get a word out.
‘What?’ he asked, amusement in his voice. ‘Did you think I could not dress differently? You did it, after all, while you were in my country.’
‘Yes, yes …of course,’ she stammered. ‘If I seem astonished, it is because I had no idea you meant to come to London.’
He nodded and smiled again. He seemed very ready to smile today. ‘It is not my first visit. I must thank you for not betraying my identity yesterday.’
‘I was astonished that you had become Hungarian.’
His white teeth showed in a grin. ‘Ah, that is not untrue. There was a Hungarian in my family. Many generations ago,’ he added, ‘but we still remember her name.’
She indicated a seat. ‘Please, let us be comfortable.’
He hesitated. ‘Are you expecting any other visitors?’
For answer, Rose went to the fireplace and tugged the bellrope. The door opened. ‘Hudson, if anyone else calls, we are not at home. And please send in some tea.’ She took a seat and gestured to him to take the chair opposite. ‘We have had a lot of callers today – compliments and enquiries about the exhibition.’
He nodded. ‘Ah yes. Strange how these ancient civilisations fascinate people.’
Rose raised her brows. ‘From your tone, it seems that you do not share that interest?’
He gave a short laugh. ‘As you know, my interest is the future.’ His face sobered. ‘My energies are all taken up with that task.’ He paused as Hudson brought in the tea tray.
While Hudson lit the candles in their sconces around the room and Rose busied herself with the cups, Kerim Pasha walked over to the window. He peered out into the darkening street. He came back towards the tea table and accepted the cup she offered him. ‘Thank you. Now, tell me, if you please, is your aunt fully recovered from her fever?’
‘She is very well now. We can never be grateful enough to you and to dear Latife for your kindness.’
‘But it was our pleasure to have you as our guests. My sister sends all kinds of messages. She misses your company.’
Was it her imagination, or was there a hidden meaning in his words? His voice sounded very earnest. His keen eyes watched her closely. Rose was still thinking how to reply when the door opened. In walked her uncle, followed by Max.
Sir Philip strode forward and shook hands very heartily. ‘My dear sir, I am most honoured that you could call. We are so much obliged to you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘In fact, impossible to put into words…’
Kerim Pasha held up both hands. ‘Dear sir, please do not speak of it again. It was fortunate I could be of help.’
‘Do you make a long stay in England, Count?’ Max drew him aside and they talked together easily. Sir Philip interrupted to insist that Kerim Pasha must stay to dine. The invitation was accepted and the men withdrew to the library until it was time for dinner.
When they assembled again in the drawing room, Rose found that Tom and Sebastian had arrived, both very smart in their evening attire. Tom bowed but said nothing. Rose was conscious of him watching keenly as she greeted Sebastian. Helena, who had followed Rose into the room, checked at the sight of the extra guest. She tilted her head to one side, studying him. Rose saw a muscle quiver in his cheek as he waited.
At last Helena’s face broke into a smile. ‘Now I recognise you,’ she said, ‘You look very well in western dress.’
She held out her hand. Kerim Pasha bowed over it with exquisite grace. ‘I am honoured that you remember me. But I would be in your debt if you would think of me as Count Varoshenyi while I am in London.’
Helena looked puzzled. ‘If that is your wish, sir.’
‘Oh, most definitely.’ His face was stern. Rose thought he must be considering the consequences of discovery. She remembered the warnings of danger he had given her in Constantinople. A shiver ran down her spine. It was indeed a very sinister business if his enemies had followed him even to London. However, to look at him, nobody would guess that he felt any apprehension.
Kerim Pasha made polite conversation throughout the meal, praising the exhibition and offering suggestions about sites for future exploration, putting Max in a fever of enthusiasm to return to Egypt.
Even if he is not an antiquarian, he knows the history of all those lands, thought Rose. She directed a brief look at Tom. He was adding his comments to Kerim Pasha’s descriptions. So he had also travelled widely in the Levant. That must be where he had been for the past four years. He was describing a remote village where he had once taken refuge. Rose looked at him again and felt another pang for what might have been. As if he felt her gaze he turned and met her eyes. His smile faded. Then he raised his brows. Rose hastily bent her head over her plate.
When the ladies finally withdrew, Kerim Pasha looked from Tom to Sebastian. ‘I had not been informed of your injuries,’ he said. ‘Can you explain what happened and when?’
Sebastian fortified himself with a large gulp of port and choked. Wiping his eyes, he said, ‘When we reached Portsmouth, I saw the ladies safely reunited with Sir Philip and Mr Kendal. The Ambassador had instructed me to waste no time in delivering his letters, so I set off for London by coach. We had not gone many miles when three ruffians held us up. They put a bullet through the driver’s shoulder and they hauled me out and-and...demanded the letters I was carrying. I refused.’ He stopped, his face twisted and he swallowed hard. He indicated his broken arm. ‘They insisted. In the end they found the letters for the minister…’ He shook his bent head. ‘I just hope they could not decipher the code.’
‘Enough!’ put in Sir Philip. His face was grave. He turned to Kerim Pasha. ‘I apprehend we are dealing with affairs of the highest importance?’
Kerim Pasha nodded. ‘I regret that you and your family have been drawn into this. It is always the case that such matters become intertwined with what seems to be a completely different affair.’
‘Demme, sir,’ Sir Philip banged his fist on the table, making the glasses jump, ‘This young man travelled from Constantinople with my wife and her nieces. They thought he was providing a safe escort!’
‘And so he was, sir,’ Tom reassured him.
Sir Philip stared at him very hard from under his eyebrows, his mouth working. ‘But all the time he was bearing secret letters so important that his enemies would attack him and torture him to discover them.’ Sir Philip’s face was red and angry.
‘There was no possible risk while they were all on a British frigate,’ insisted Tom. ‘Indeed, sir, they were safer there than when you left them in Cairo while you went on your expedition up the Nile.’ It was his turn to give a stern look. ‘And we are indebted to the Count, here, for getting help to you so that you were able to return without being attacked yourselves – although that was for different reasons,’ he added, when Sir Philip’s face turned an unhealthy shade of purple.
‘We were at fault to leave them,’ put in Max quietly. ‘We relied on the consular staff but we stayed away longer than intended and the Consul was called away to an emergency in Alexandria. The situation can change so rapidly out there. However,’ he gave Sir Philip a warning look, ‘let us be thankful that the ladies were so resourceful and that they escaped to the safe haven provided by our guest.’ He waited for Sir Philip to nod agreement, then turned back to look keenly from Tom to Kerim Pasha. ‘And now, it is our turn to offer what help we can for your…er… business.’ He raised his brows.
Kerim Pasha put his hand on his heart. ‘My thanks for your offer. It is much appreciated. And I agree with all my heart – your ladies are most valiant.’ He glanced at Tom and raised one eyebrow. ‘When I first saw them, I was filled with admiration. Why,’ his eyes narrowed as he looked round the table, ‘even I would not care to face the thugs of Cairo without an army at my back.’ His hand curled into a fist.
Tom looked down to hide the sudden flare in his eyes. He had already seen how Ke
rim Pasha’s face softened when he looked at Rose. The man would like to carry her off to his own land. Tom frowned into the ruby liquid in his glass. He knew she admired Kerim Pasha and, dammit, the man was handsome, charming and wealthy enough to indulge any female’s whims. If she was still serious about her projects for helping poor children, she could do far more with his backing than she could ever dream of here in England…
Tom’s hand trembled slightly as he raised his glass to his lips. How ironic that he had received the strictest orders to protect Kerim Pasha’s life with his own while the man was here to negotiate this army treaty. Then it occurred to him that Rose was less frosty now towards himself. But could that be because she was more interested in Kerim Pasha? He frowned over this, not heeding the conversation around the table.
Then the port reached him again, rousing him. He pushed the bottle on and forced himself to listen. Max was urging Kerim Pasha to maintain his pose as a wealthy antiquarian. So the fellow would be haunting the house then. And as if that was not torment enough for him, his conscience lashed him over poor Seb. The young man was calm again since they had turned the conversation into other channels. The letters given to Seb had been a blind. They had used the poor fellow shamefully but it proved what they had suspected. Their opponents were working in England as well as in Constantinople. Tom straightened up and flexed his shoulders. His instinct told him there was dire trouble ahead. Well, he could handle that kind of trouble!
Chapter Seventeen
‘Do you miss your harem clothes?’ asked Helena. She was sitting at the dressing table, pinning up her hair and twisting a red ribbon into it. Rose was sorting through the filmy garments she had brought back from Constantinople. She stopped to watch her sister’s skilful fingers at work.
‘I wish I could achieve such a result. You make it look so simple but I have to rely on Prue’s help.’
Helena grimaced. ‘Prue is a bit heavy handed. And she scolds too much. Sometimes I wonder if she remembers how long it is since I left the nursery.’
‘Yes but she looks after us well. And,’ added Rose, folding a pale turquoise robe and laying it carefully on the bed, ‘she is more comfortable with us than with George and Augusta and Papa.’ She came to peer at her own reflection over Helena’s shoulder. She adjusted a curl that was falling over her forehead and added, ‘I did write just after we reached Rivercourt, to inform Papa of our safe return from Egypt.’
‘And you have not had any reply.’ Helena jabbed the last pin into her hair. ‘Well, it is a long time since we thought of our father’s house as our home. Prue as well.’ She cast a quick glance towards her sister. ‘No doubt Augusta has decided we are beyond the pale.’
‘She is happy to know that we are overseas - but I think she will be concerned that we do not disgrace her while we are in England.’
Helena made a disgusted sound and tossed the hairbrush down with a thud.
‘Why did you ask about the harem clothes?’ said Rose hastily.
Helena picked up the hand mirror and surveyed her reflection from the back and side. ‘Oh – the Count-’ she stressed the word, ‘in his new role put me in mind of appearance. It makes me wonder if we are all able to change our identity with our dress.’
Rose took a peep down into the street. ‘He certainly looked every inch a western gentleman last night.’ She pulled on her coat and set her bonnet on her head. ‘I feel like my normal self-dressed in these clothes,’ she said at last. ‘I cannot recall that I felt any different in those gauzy trousers and silken tunics. They were just suitable in that house and for that climate. They are not much use here. Still, I like to keep them. It reminds me of our kind friends and the haven they offered us after our awful flight from Cairo – and dear Aunt Emily being so ill.’
‘So unlike her,’ nodded Helena. ‘And just look at her now.’
‘Yes, it is such a relief. That fever seems to have gone for good. Mr Hawkesleigh assures me it is not something that recurs.’ She adjusted the pots and brushes on the dressing table idly, frowning a little. ‘I wonder what the gentlemen were discussing last night. They stayed in the dining room for ages.’
‘And they were not in a very good mood when they did join us,’ agreed Helena, buttoning up her new spencer. ‘Even Max showed no interest in the exhibition or in discussing Aunt Emily’s theory about two of the hieroglyphs. Really, I think she has made a most important discovery.’
‘Yes, certainly but pray leave it for the moment,’ begged Rose hastily. ‘We really must visit Madame Lisette’s boutique and see if our other gowns are finished. And then we need to search for bonnets and shawls, gloves, shoes, oh, so many things.’
‘My practical sister, Rosalind,’ sighed Helena. ‘What a pity you did not marry some sprig of fashion. You were so excited when you first went to Town.’ She rummaged in a drawer for her gloves, ‘but then you went back home and meekly accepted Papa’s choice of husband. I would have said that Hugh Charteris was much too dull for you.’ She pushed the drawer shut and looked up. ‘Why, Rose, how white you are. What did I say?’
Dumbly, Rose shook her head. She turned away and picked up her reticule and gloves. Still without speaking, she opened the door and they set off down two flights of stairs. By the time she reached the entrance hall, Rose had overcome the stab of sorrow at the way her life had been shaped by others. She reminded herself that she was now mistress of her own destiny. And today was going to be an enjoyable shopping day, full of ribbons and perfumes and the pleasures of trying on new clothes.
Lady Emily was ready but her attitude was that of a lamb being led to the slaughter. The girls spent the short carriage drive in coaxing her into a better mood. At length she accepted that she had to have new clothes in order to impress on society that she was not some fusty recluse with no idea of life in the modern world.
‘And if you just let Madame Lisette advise you, dear ma’am, she will turn you out in bang-up style,’ urged Helena.
Aunt Emily sat up at that. ‘Really, Helena. You must not talk like Max. That young man must guard his tongue in front of you.’
Helena giggled. ‘Perhaps I heard it from Sebastian, ma’am. And he can do no wrong where you are concerned.’
‘Impertinent girl!’ But Lady Westacote was smiling as she descended from the carriage and entered the boutique.
When they finally emerged, the shop boy was staggering under a pile of bandboxes that were tenderly loaded into the carriage. Rose persuaded the others to walk round the corner into Bond Street in search of new bonnets and shoes. They had not been in more than two milliners’ however, when they found a number of ladies coming up and greeting them very warmly.
It became a struggle to excuse themselves in order to complete their shopping. So many matrons insisted on issuing invitations to musical evenings, dancing parties and impromptu suppers.
‘Bring all your party, dear Lady Westacote,’ beamed Lady Benson, ‘we shall be charmed to meet them all.’ She gave Rose a rather calculating stare as she turned away. Rose stifled a fit of giggles. Lady Benson had set her sights on Count Varoshenyi. Well, if she had judged him by the quality of his tailoring, no doubt she assumed that he was a wealthy landowner. That was indeed true but when Rose thought of Lady Benson’s plump daughters in harem clothes, she could not help a choke of laughter.
Her aunt frowned. ‘Really, whatever has got into you girls this morning? What a sad lack of conduct.’ She darted into the next milliner’s shop, adding, ‘This time I shall take any hat that fits so we can get back home quickly. I cannot wait any longer to test my theory about the Pharaoh’s cartouche.’
Finally, they all found bonnets to match their new coats. Rose was very tempted by an enormous sable muff and decided she could afford it. It was just the thing to set off her green coat. As Lady Westacote had now lost patience with shopping, it was agreed that the two girls would return another day with Prue to buy such items as linen, silk stockings and shawls.
‘How I like this n
ew dress,’ said Rose, when they were back in their bedroom. She held up a powder blue muslin dress with white trimming on the neckline and sleeves. ‘But I need a stole to go with it.’ Her eyes brightened. ‘I wonder…’ She bent over the pile of harem clothes again. A few minutes later she gave an exclamation of triumph and draped a beaded and tasselled white silk scarf over the gown. ‘What do you think, Helena? It is a harem item,’ she added, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.
‘So, are you setting out to entice the Count?’ Helena dodged away with a peal of laughter as Rose flicked the scarf at her. ‘You think I am lost in my lexicons – but I can see what is under my nose.’ She came and put an arm round her surprised sister. ‘I saw how he looked at you last night. And it is time you had a bit of enjoyment in life. Poor Rose.’
‘What do you mean by “enjoyment”?’ asked Rose suspiciously.
Helena smiled and opened her hands. ‘Why, the things that give you pleasure… or do I mean the people…?’ She tilted her head and fixed a keen gaze on Rose.
Rose’s eyes flashed. ‘You surely do not think I am encouraging him – or any gentleman-’
‘No, no, but you have been too busy looking after us. It’s time to enjoy your passions now, while you can. I know you like being part of society life in London.’
‘Well, so I do, poor feather-headed female that I am. And pretty dresses and smart accessories do fascinate me. But you are already finding me admirers. And what about yourself?’ Rose looked meaningfully at her sister and saw the colour creep into her cheeks.
Helena forced a little laugh. ‘Oh, I have my passions as you well know. I mean hieroglyphs of course.’ She gestured at the new muff. ‘That could be useful to me. It is large enough to keep a couple of lexicons in...Or even the Rosetta Stone.’ She kept a straight face as she watched Rose’s look of horror at the idea. Then she gave an exaggerated sigh and shook her head, ‘But my fashion-mad sister merely wants to parade in Bond Street and Hyde Park and send the gentlemen wild.’ Her eyes were twinkling wickedly.