by Beth Elliot
Rose stroked the soft fur of the muff. Then she fluttered her eyelids and sighed like a bored debutante. ‘You’re right. I am going to take part in society life. It seems we are now famous enough to be on everybody’s guest list.’ She waggled a stern finger at Helena. ‘And you are going to accompany me to all these events, starting with Lady Benson’s dinner party this evening.’
Chapter Eighteen
Tom was in a good mood. He did not often try his luck at the gaming tables but this evening he was winning steadily. He endured some sarcastic comments from his fellow players. They were old friends he had not seen in several years. Now they remarked that they wished he had not been in such a hurry to return to England if he was going to win all their money.
Tom accepted another glass of claret and picked up his cards. He was concentrating on making his choice when a discreet voice coughed insistently at his elbow. ‘Ahem. Sir?’
Irritated, Tom looked up. ‘Dash it, man, do you not know better than to interrupt the game?’ He glared down his formidable nose.
‘Yes, sir, but if you please, this is urgent.’
Reluctantly, Tom took the note, broke the seal and frowned over the contents before stuffing it in his inside pocket. ‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ He unfolded his long legs from under the table and tossed his cards back into the pile in the middle of the cloth. ‘I am unable to continue.’ He scooped up his winnings.
‘Dash it, Hawkesleigh,’ protested a very eager card player, ‘you have broken the game, sir.’
There was a chorus of protest from the others. ‘No, let him go before we lose our shirts. Good riddance!’
Tom laughed. ‘I’ll win your shirts another evening.’ He left the overheated card room and ran lightly down the stairs to the entrance hall. The young man who had handed him the note came forward and ushered Tom out of White’s Club. There was a plain coach drawn up close by. Both men got in and at once the vehicle moved off.
‘Did it have to be this evening?’ grumbled Tom. ‘Just when the cards were in my favour for once.’
‘Sorry sir but it is Lord Bethany,’ said the messenger in hushed tones.
Tom grunted but said no more. They soon arrived at the elegant house in Ryder Street where Kerim Pasha was staying. Tom disappeared inside and shortly afterwards reappeared followed by the tall figure of Kerim Pasha, settling his top hat on his dark head.
Now the coach rumbled over cobblestones as they travelled westwards. The three men sat in silence. At length the coach swung off the road onto a gravelled drive and pulled up in front of a tall building.
‘If you could wait here for a moment, gentlemen?’ The young man jumped down. Tom discreetly felt in his pocket. His fingers closed round the familiar smooth form of his pistol. He hoped he would not have to use it.
‘Do you anticipate trouble, Mr Hawkesleigh?’ Kerim Pasha sounded amused.
Tom looked out of the window again. ‘I don’t know, sir. Considering what they did to Sebastian Welland, it’s obvious they mean to get the information they want.’
‘Ah… and who exactly are “they”?’
Tom shook his head slowly. ‘So many people have a stake in this. Our people, your people, the Hapsburgs, and the French, obviously!’ After another pause, he added gloomily, ‘It could even be the Russians. They would not want your army to be more efficient.’
‘Now that is interesting.’ Tom could hear the smile in his companion’s voice. ‘Maybe they are all in a grand alliance against the Ottoman Empire.’
‘We know they have enlisted the help of a very sinister gangmaster here in London.’ Tom continued, ‘Silas Browne is so powerful he acts as he pleases. If they sought his help, it indicates that your opponents are utterly determined to thwart your plans.’
‘They can try,’ said Kerim Pasha in a harsh tone, ‘The sooner I get these improvements started, the better. And I trust that tonight we can get the process agreed.’
Their messenger now reappeared and invited them inside. Tom followed Kerim Pasha, who walked into the house in a lithe, unhurried manner as if he was about to enjoy an agreeable evening’s entertainment. The villa was luxuriously furnished and well lit. They were shown into a large library where two older men were seated at a long table. Both surveyed their visitors keenly. At length, the older man rose to his feet and bowed.
‘Welcome, sir,’ he said in a languid voice. He was plainly dressed yet he had a commanding presence. Tom knew that Lord Bethany, the minister who dealt with difficult secret enterprises, was an old fox. It was whispered by those who dealt with him that he always made the other side weep.
He was attended by Witherson, his private secretary. Tom grimaced. Witherson was even more ruthless than his master. Tom had met him on a previous occasion when dealing with another mission and he had not enjoyed the encounter. Witherson was a pale, balding man, with stooping shoulders and large, spiderlike hands. If he noticed any mistake or weak point in an argument, he would stop the discussion just by raising a finger. Such was his capacity for weighing up every minute detail that even Lord Bethany accepted correction from his secretary.
No doubt they intended to make a deal with Kerim Pasha which would involve a massive payment to the Treasury without committing very much to the Turk’s requirements for his training programme. However, to Tom’s secret enjoyment, this evening they were not able to organise things all their own way. His eyes crinkled with amusement at Kerim Pasha’s ability to argue them down without heat but with a steely determination.
‘If I am to train an elite corps of young officers, I require the best you have in terms of equipment, as well as engineers and officers in sufficient numbers.’ Kerim Pasha held up a warning hand. ‘The best, gentlemen. My officers will know. I will know.’
‘If we send you our best officers and engineers, we need to be certain that they will be safe,’ put in Lord Bethany. ‘I make no doubt there will be fierce opposition.’
‘Very fierce, I do not deny it. That is why I will send everyone to my country estates in Anatolia. They will be far from any threats there. Your men will remain there, I swear to you. The officers they train will gradually be placed in key posts in Constantinople.’ He indicated Tom. ‘This gentleman has already made a very detailed plan of each stage.’
All eyes turned towards Tom. He nodded. ‘It is a very thorough plan. It should work well.’
*
By four o’clock in the morning the hours of hard bargaining had taken their toll on everyone except Kerim Pasha. He sat, keen eyed and alert, his energy dominating the room. Tom lounged in his chair, a glass of brandy by his hand, his long legs stretched out under the table. He contemplated this man whose ruthless determination he admired wholeheartedly. It took a lot of courage to undertake such a task but Kerim Pasha would succeed if anyone could. In that endeavour Tom was proud to work with him and wished him every success.
But when it came to Rose…Tom’s mouth set in a grim line. He could not bear the idea of another man touching her. Each time he saw Kerim Pasha speak to her in that way he reserved just for her, Tom wanted to smash his fist into that darkly handsome face. He scowled into his glass, brooding. He was no nearer winning back her trust while it seemed to him she always had a smile for her Turkish admirer. He sipped his brandy and forced his attention back to the business in hand.
There was silence now apart from the scratching of the quill as Witherson noted down the terms of the agreement. From time to time he looked over his spectacles at one or other of the men around the table, brushing the quill against his large jaw. Then he would nod and carry on with his writing. When he had finished and sanded the paper, he passed it to Lord Bethany, who frowned over it for some time. He sighed several times but nodded. The secretary at once began to copy the text onto a second sheet of paper. At length, both copies of the agreement were ready.
Lord Bethany took up the quill and scrawled a signature on each page. ‘These will be the only two copies,’ said the minister in a low voi
ce. ‘I am authorised to sign on behalf of the Chief of Staff. And you, sir,’ he looked over his spectacles at Kerim Pasha, ‘do you have authority from the highest level?’
Kerim Pasha inclined his head. ‘His Majesty, Sultan Selim has given me full powers to act on his behalf in this matter.’ He picked up the quill and added his signature.
The minister rubbed a hand across his face. ‘Do you require a translation, Your Excellency? For the Sultan,’ he added when Kerim Pasha’s brows rose in a question.
‘God forbid! His Majesty understands enough English to read this – and the fewer people to see it the better. Until we have some results, in the form of well-trained troops with modern equipment, of course.’ His eyes met Tom’s across the table.
Tom’s eyes glowed as he returned that look. They had done it! The sense of pride surged up that his plan was about to be put in operation. He had to restrain himself, he wanted to jump up and down. Then he thought how many difficulties lay ahead. The proud soldiers of the Ottoman Empire would cling to their old ways. They would do murder rather than accept these changes. And enemies were already stalking them. So now it was a matter of honour to see that Kerim Pasha remained safe for the rest of his time in London.
Chapter Nineteen
‘Is this all your party?’ Lady Benson’s eyes raced from Rose and Helena to Sir Philip and Lady Westacote and finally Max. ‘I am sure I made it plain that all your antiquarian group would be welcome.’ She looked accusingly at Rose. ‘My daughters were so looking forward to making the acquaintance of your Hungarian friend.’
Rose opened her blue eyes innocently. ‘Are you referring to the gentleman who was at the Egyptian exhibition, ma’am? I believe he was part of the group that Mr Kendal took round to explain all the latest discoveries.’
Max heard his name and turned towards them. ‘Are you talking of Count Varoshenyi?’
The older daughter whirled around from greeting Helena. ‘Did I hear you mention the Count?’ she exclaimed in a breathy voice. ‘Is he coming this evening, Mama?’
‘Apparently not,’ said Lady Benson, snapping her fan shut. ‘Such a disappointment to my dear girls.’ Her ample bosom swelled under its barely adequate covering of purple satin. After a tight-lipped moment she visibly recollected herself and gave Max a hard smile. ‘They are both so interested in everything to do with antiquities. But let me make my daughters known to you, Mr Kendal. Clarissa and Clorinda.’
The two girls curtsied and pressed in close, eager eyed. Max, known for his sangfroid in many a dangerous situation in desert and jungle, seemed to Rose to have gone pale. She watched in growing amusement as the two sisters bombarded him with seemingly artless questions about his adventures and the interesting people he met on his travels.
When they showed no sign of ending their interrogation, Helena made an attempt to join in the conversation. Clarissa pointedly turned her shoulder and Clorinda drew Max towards the painting over the fireplace, talking non-stop as she pointed something out. Before Helena could manage to break in on their remarks dinner was announced.
Rose was claimed by a pleasant looking gentleman with grey hair. When they were all seated at the long table, she was not surprised to see that Clarissa was sitting next to Max at table, while Helena was placed further down, next to an amiable youth who obviously admired her beauty but Rose doubted he had ever heard of Egypt or ancient languages.
It was the start of a long and boring dinner. Rose kept a social smile on her face and did her best to convince the gentlemen on either side of her that foreign travel was quite acceptable for young ladies in the modern world. They looked very disapproving of such ideas but smiled at her nevertheless. She supposed she had her smart new gown to thank for that.
A glance at her sister showed Rose that, as usual, Helena was attracting admiring glances from the men. Her amber silk robe shimmered and seemed to enhance the light of those glorious brown eyes and the shining coils of her dark hair. The string of turquoises round her neck set off her appearance delightfully.
On more than one occasion Rose caught Lady Benson examining Helena with narrowed eyes. She also found her hostess’s gaze on herself. She was certain that nothing could be amiss, however. Her jonquil silk dress was very stylish and she had added some lace to make the neckline more demure. Her hair was dressed in a simple topknot with a few curls falling over her ears. Perhaps Lady Benson was examining her pearl necklace. Rose gave a tiny sigh. It had been her mother’s and was her most precious possession.
In her turn, Rose looked at Lady Benson’s two daughters. They had unremarkable features and hair that was more mousy than brown. Both had round faces and looked as if they would benefit from more regular exercise. Yet both were very self-assured and their voices could be heard over everyone else’s conversation. Their white silk dresses were cut in the latest fashion. At one point she caught Max’s eye and only suppressed a smile with difficulty. He was obviously desperate for the ladies to finish their meal and withdraw.
At last Lady Benson stood up and all the ladies followed her out of the room. Helena caught up with her sister and pinched her arm. ‘I cannot endure much more of this,’ she hissed, ‘they are all so boring!’
Before Rose could reply, she found Clarissa standing in front of her.
‘Do pray come and sit with me where we can have a little quiet conversation,’ she said, drawing Rose towards a sofa in the window embrasure. She sat down and smoothed her skirts. Then she gave Rose a sideways look. ‘I must ask you about the mysterious Count, Mrs Charteris. He has made such an impression on my sister and myself that we are in a fever to know all about him.’ She adjusted the many bangles on her plump arms, darting her eyes towards Rose’s face every few seconds.
Rose shook her head. ‘But I really cannot help you. I spoke two words to him about the pictures at the exhibition. That is all. I agree that he is very handsome,’ she added as an afterthought.
‘Oh surely, Mrs Charteris. If he is interested in your antiquities, he must be attending some of those boring lectures about old languages.’ pouted Clarissa.
‘Perhaps he was only in London for a few days.’ Rose tried to keep her tone disinterested. This fever of interest was not going to please Tom. The ‘Count’ was on a secret mission, after all. A large shadow came between her and the light from the candelabra. It was Clorinda. She was grinning, her eyes alight with curiosity.
‘Have you found out all about him?’ she asked her sister.
Clarissa shook her head. Both of them turned a calculating look on Rose. She maintained a gently innocent air. What a pair of man-eaters! Then she noticed another girl, hovering behind Clorinda. She also had an eager expression, as if ready for some tasty morsels of gossip. Clorinda introduced her as Miss Julia Delamere.
‘Julia is our particular friend,’ she informed Rose. ‘She is quite the most fashionable debutante this season, do you not agree?’
“Fashionable” was the last word Rose would use to describe Julia’s dress, which had far too much trimming and knots of ribbon. In addition, the girl was almost weighed down with chains, brooches and bracelets. Rose gave a polite smile and managed to ask with only a slight tremor in her voice, ‘Are you enjoying all the events?’
Julia made a dismissive gesture. ‘Oh, it is all very well. I like to have new gowns and spend my time at parties and balls. But I did it all last year as well.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Rose looked more closely. Julia was small and reasonably pretty but her manner indicated that she considered herself superior to everyone else. She inspected Rose from head to foot, her eyes narrowing as they lingered on the lustrous pearl necklace.
‘What do you use on your hair to achieve that shade of blonde?’ she drawled.
Rose smiled sweetly. ‘It is my natural colour’. She could not resist a glance at Julia’s unremarkable light brown hair, elaborately dressed with ribbons and flowers.
Julia’s pale blue eyes flashed. ‘Is it true that you have been travelling i
n foreign lands?’ she asked with a slight titter. She peered at Rose’s face. ‘Mama would never dream of letting me damage my complexion in such a way.’ She patted her cheek and simpered, then twirled round and minced away. The effect was rather spoiled as she dropped her fan and had to stop and retrieve it.
‘Dear Julia is rather overwrought at present,’ confided Clarissa. ‘She nearly caught a Viscount last year but somehow it all came to nothing.’
‘Yes but now her mama is planning to marry her to Mr Hawkesleigh,’ put in Clorinda.
Rose nearly dropped her own fan at this pronouncement. She was desperate for the sisters to continue with their confidences but the door was opening and Clarissa beamed as the men entered the drawing room.
‘At last!’ she said, ‘now we can make the tea.’ She jumped up and walked away without another word. For once, Rose would have been glad to hear a bit more gossip. Was Tom aware of this proposed match? What did he think of Miss Julia Delamere. She found it was distressing to consider the idea of Tom with another woman. Yet only a few months ago she would have said that she never wanted to see him again. Something had changed and Rose was not sure she liked the feeling. It threatened to be painful.
Helena roused her. ‘Let us take a cup of tea,’ she murmured. ‘I do believe those two girls will serve it all to the men if we are not quick.’
Rose stood up. ‘Those girls are taking a great deal of interest in Max this evening. More converts to ancient civilisations.’
Her reply was a snort. ‘Flummery! Their interests lie quite elsewhere. But I will be astonished if they get a second chance to chase after him. If I know Max, he has decided to set off on an urgent expedition to the Greek islands, starting tomorrow.’
They laughed and went towards the tea table. Rose recollected her aunt’s instructions. ‘After this, we must circulate and discuss our exhibition as much as possible.’