Whispers in the Sand

by Barbara Erskine

  ‘Louisa, I find this hard to believe. My dear, he is a respected man. A gentleman in every way.’

  ‘No, not a gentleman.’ Louisa clenched her fists. ‘Had Jane Treece not interrupted, he would have ravished me! He has some strange power, some ability to use mesmerism on me, which rendered me incapable of fighting him off. And he is trying to persuade me by underhand means and by threats to part with my little scent bottle. No, I cannot allow you to let him come back! I didn’t want to mention it in front of Augusta. I know she likes him, but this is outrageous behaviour, you must agree!’ She fell silent as she reached with a shaking hand for her glass once more.

  Sir John was staring at her. ‘You say he tried to ravish you?’

  She nodded.

  He licked his lips. ‘He forced his way into your cabin?’

  She nodded again.

  ‘And touched you improperly?’ His eyes left her face and dropped to the neckline of her gown. Suddenly he was breathing very heavily. ‘My dear Louisa, you must remember that you are a very attractive woman. And in this heat, even the most august person might feel his blood race in your company.’ He half stood suddenly, and moved closer to her. ‘I myself have felt strongly attracted to you. Strongly!’ He put out his hand and touched her wrist with hot fingers.

  ‘John! What are you doing?’ Augusta’s voice interrupted him as she sailed into the saloon.

  He leapt back as though he had been scalded. ‘My dear! I didn’t hear you! How fortunate you are here. Louisa has told me such terrible things. Terrible.’ He was babbling with terror. ‘My dear, Carstairs has proved to be the most awful painted sepulchre. A cad. A dreadful disgrace to our sex.’

  Augusta had seated herself at the table. With commendable calm she reached for the decanter.

  ‘I thought it was exceedingly foolish of you to go out with the man unchaperoned, Louisa,’ she commented. ‘Did you appear for him, too, en déshabille?’

  Louisa found herself blushing slightly in spite of her anger. ‘I did not, I assure you. I have found Lord Carstairs’ behaviour totally unspeakable. I hope very much you will forbid him to set foot on the Ibis again.’

  Augusta leant back in her seat and sipped thoughtfully from her glass. ‘I don’t think we can do that. The man is a peer of the realm. I have to admit that he has made me too feel uneasy, but I had thought his ambitions fixed on Venetia Fielding, so I have to say I am surprised he should jump on you.’

  Louisa raised an eyebrow. ‘You make it sound as though I am unworthy of his attentions.’ She was indignant in spite of herself.

  Augusta gave a dry smile. ‘Not so much unworthy, my dear, as probably not rich enough. David Fielding has a large fortune and he has let it be known Venetia’s dowry will be considerable.’

  She glanced at her husband. ‘Is there a reason for his interest in Louisa?’

  Sir John was sitting meekly with his hands on the table in front of him. ‘He wants her little perfume jar.’ He shrugged. ‘God knows why, but I think it has to do with his study of Ancient Egypt. I wish you would give it to him, Louisa, and have done. It can mean very little to you in real terms and you can name your price. The man will pay whatever you ask.’

  Louisa glanced at him. ‘It is not for sale. I have told him that. And for me it is also now a memento of Hassan who bought it for me and whom you so unjustly dismissed –’ She caught herself in mid-sentence about to say more and bit her lip. ‘He was my friend, and that makes it doubly precious to me. I assure you, I will never part with it. Not as long as I live.’

  Anna put down the diary. She frowned. Was that a sound outside the door? She stared at the handle nervously, straining her ears and nearly jumped out of her skin as she heard a quiet knock.

  ‘Who is it?’ She cleared her throat anxiously.

  ‘It’s me, Toby. I didn’t want to wake you if you were asleep. I was just checking you were OK.’

  She climbed to her feet and went to open the door. ‘I am fine. Thank you.’ He was standing, leaning against the wall, one arm casually raised behind his head. He grinned at her, making no move to come in. ‘I was just a bit worried when I saw you weren’t at supper. I rather hoped Andy hadn’t dragged you off to his lair.’

  She smiled. ‘Not a chance.’

  ‘I have to say, I’m glad. OK. Goodnight. Sleep well.’

  She stood in the doorway as he walked back along the corridor and watched as he turned the corner. Then thoughtfully she went back into the cabin.

  She refused to allow herself to read any more that night. Exhausted, she had a quick shower and climbed into bed. Her last thought was of the charm around her neck. With it there she still felt strangely safe.

  And she slept well until the early hours. Then she half awoke, thinking of Louisa. She dozed again, woke again and slept. When she awoke the next time almost before her eyes were open she found herself reaching for the diary again. To know what had happened to Louisa was becoming an obsession.

  Louisa had slept late after her uncomfortable conversation with the Forresters and Augusta was alone in the saloon the next morning, when she left her cabin, dressed in a cool blouse and skirt. Augusta led the way on deck, where they sat sipping lemonade in the shade of the draped sail. ‘Sir John and I have been talking, Louisa,’ she began. She gave the younger woman a quick glance. ‘We believe we may have been too hasty in dismissing Hassan. I think perhaps we were misled by Roger. Unintentionally, of course,’ she added hastily. ‘The reis thinks Hassan has not yet gone downriver. He and Sir John have gone ashore to try and locate him. The men will be back soon to pull us up the rapids but it will be easy for Hassan to find us should he wish to, when we are lying at Philae.’

  Louisa held her breath. She closed her eyes, trying hard to keep her expression composed. Her heart was beating very fast.

  ‘That would please you, my dear?’

  She became aware suddenly that Augusta was studying her face.

  She nodded. ‘That would please me very much.’

  ‘John is a good man, you know, my dear.’ Augusta bit her lip. ‘He sometimes gets a little excitable. But he means no harm.’

  Louisa smiled. ‘I know that.’ She was touched. Augusta must have found it hard both to ask forgiveness for her husband and to warn her off. She had managed both with infinite tact.

  There was only one bone of contention left. ‘And Lord Carstairs?’

  ‘If Hassan is here there is no need for you to be alone with him, my dear. I believe Roger was probably a spoilt child and has continued to behave as one now he is an adult. If he wants something he believes he should have it and nothing must be allowed to thwart his desires. We will have to show him that, though he is still welcome on the Ibis, in this case he is not going to get what he wants.’

  Louisa spent the rest of the morning sketching the cliffs and rocks. It was midday before the men began to return, ready to drag the boat up the last part of the cataract. With them came Sir John and Lord Carstairs.

  Louisa had withdrawn to the far rail so that she could watch the proceedings from the boat. She didn’t greet the two new arrivals, staring instead at the men forming up on the rocks, getting ready to heft the great ropes like tug of war teams preparing themselves to do battle against the elements. After a few moments, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sir John and Carstairs go below into the saloon where Augusta was sheltering from the sun.

  It was a while before any of them emerged, then at last Augusta appeared. Her eyes were sparkling as she hurried aft and sat down beside Louisa.

  ‘Such wonderful news! You are not going to believe it!’

  ‘Sir John has found Hassan?’ Louisa felt her heart lift in excitement.

  ‘Hassan?’ Augusta looked vague for a moment. ‘Oh no. I believe John has left word for him to follow the Ibis if he wishes to have the job back. No, no, far better than that. My dear, Roger Carstairs has asked John if he might call on you. My dear, he wishes to ask for your hand!’

  Louisa st
ared at her. For a moment she was too stunned to react. An icy clamp seemed to have fastened itself over her lungs so that she could not breathe. Her mouth had gone dry.

  Augusta clapped her hands. ‘Of course Sir John said yes. He knew you would be thrilled! Roger was so apologetic about frightening you yesterday. He said that his love for you completely overrode his sanity. He has brought you the most beautiful gift, Louisa –’

  At last Louisa managed to move. As stiff as a wooden doll she rose to her feet. Pencils and brushes cascaded to the deck and rolled away as she stared at Augusta. ‘How dare he!’ Her voice was so dry it rasped in her throat. ‘How dare he come and try to inveigle his way onto the boat? Why should he ask Sir John? He is not my father! How dare anyone presume I should be pleased?’

  Augusta looked stunned. For a moment she didn’t appear to know what to say. She raised her hands and let them fall to her sides in a gesture of total bewilderment. ‘He asked John because he is your host. This is his boat. We are caring for you, my dear.’ She sounded near to tears. ‘We thought you would be so pleased. Think of it. His title –’

  ‘I do not want his title, Augusta!’ Louisa snapped back. ‘And I most certainly do not want him or his gift. I shall not receive him. Please tell him to go.’ She turned and leant against the rail, staring down into the water.

  ‘Louisa –’

  ‘No.’ She did not look round. ‘Please. Get rid of him.’

  ‘I can’t do that, Louisa.’ Augusta paused for a moment, looking at her, then, with a sigh she turned away. As with a shout the mooring ropes were loosened and the boat swung into the channel Louisa found herself alone on deck.

  It was perhaps an hour later that she made her way somewhat cautiously back to her cabin. As she passed the door she glanced into the saloon. Augusta and Sir John were there alone. Of Carstairs there was no sign. With a sigh of relief she turned towards her door and pushed it open. He was sitting on the bed. On the counterpane beside him was her journal and her dressing case.

  At her gasp of surprise and fear he smiled. ‘Please don’t scream, Louisa. It would be so embarrassing to have to tell Sir John and Augusta that what they heard was merely the voice of your passion. Give me the key to this silly little box and we’ll have done.’

  ‘You’ve been reading my private diary!’ She was overwhelmed with anger.

  ‘Indeed I have. And what interesting reading. You don’t appear to like my company, my dear. Your penchant is for natives, I see.’ He sneered at her. ‘Luckily I’m not particularly worried by your views, either way. The key, please, or I’ll be forced to break the lock.’

  ‘Get out of my cabin!’ Louisa could feel her anger mounting. Heat was flooding through her body. ‘Get out now!’ She moved towards him and snatched the diary out of his hand. ‘Do you want me to summon the high priest once more to my aid? He came when I called him. Remember? Who knows what he might do to protect me.’

  Carstairs laughed. ‘Summoning spirits, my dear, is what I do, not you. I have trained for years in the occult practices which will bring forth the guardians of your little bottle. Is that really what you want?’ He stood up suddenly and she fell back, frightened. He seemed very tall in the small cabin. Although she was trying very hard to disguise the fact, her courage was draining away as fast as it had come, leaving her numb with fear.

  Carstairs looked down at her, not hiding his disdain, then he raised his face and took a deep breath.

  ‘Anhotep, priest of Isis, I call you forth here. Now. Anhotep, priest of Isis show yourself before me now. Anhotep, priest of Isis come forth into the daylight!’ He flung up his arms, his voice echoing into silence.

  Louisa gave a small whimper.

  She could see the figure already, transparent in front of the window, the thin arrogant face, the square shoulders, the strange, pale eyes, so like the eyes of Carstairs himself with his frightening, penetrating gaze. The silence in the cabin was suddenly intense, the atmosphere electric. Louisa closed her eyes.

  ‘Did you call, Mrs Shelley?’ Jane Treece’s voice, immediately behind her, made her gasp.

  For a moment she couldn’t move, then she turned towards the new arrival. ‘Yes, please!’ She clutched at the woman’s arm. ‘Would you show Lord Carstairs the way out? He was just leaving.’ She had begun to tremble violently.

  She closed her eyes again as Treece led Carstairs away and sank onto the bed, unable to move. When she opened them again the figure in the window was still there …

  ‘Oh God!’ Anna spoke out loud. She shut the book and took a deep breath. Her hands were shaking. She glanced across the cabin at the closed drawer of the dressing table. Forcing herself to stand up she was about to cross to it when a cough outside her door made her jump.

  It was Toby.

  He took in her short nightshirt and dishevelled appearance when she opened the door. Then he focused on her face. ‘I was worried when you didn’t come to breakfast, having missed supper last night. Are you sure you’re OK? You look awful.’

  She gave a brittle laugh. ‘Is that your usual chat up line?’

  ‘No. As chat up lines go, I can do better.’ He smiled again. ‘What is it, Anna? Your hands are shaking.’

  She wrapped her arms around herself self-consciously. ‘I’m all right.’

  ‘No. You’re not all right. Is it the sight of me, or is it that damn diary again?’ He had spotted it lying on the bed. ‘Anna, forgive me for saying so, but if it upsets you, and it’s taking up so much of your time that you are missing the excursions you have paid thousands of pounds to come and see, is it wise to go on doing it?’ He held her gaze for a moment, his expression fierce. ‘Why not junk it? No, I didn’t mean that, it’s too valuable. Put it away. Read it when you get home, sitting in the garden.’

  ‘I can’t. I need to know what happens.’ It came out as a wail.

  ‘Need to?’ His voice was marginally softer suddenly. ‘Why? What’s so important?’

  ‘It’s about the scent bottle. Someone was trying to steal it from her. She thought it was cursed in some way.’ She pulled herself up short. She was rambling.

  Toby was still looking down at the diary. ‘And you too think that the bottle might be cursed?’

  She glanced up, expecting him to be laughing at her, but his face was perfectly serious.

  ‘Will you show it to me, Anna? Watson thinks it’s a fake, doesn’t he? He’s made no secret of the fact. I’m not an expert but I do have a feel for things.’

  She hesitated, then suddenly making up her mind she went over to the dressing table and pulled out the drawer. She handed him the bottle, wrapped as it was in her scarf. He unwound the piece of silk and dropped it on the bed, then he brought the bottle up close to his face and squinted at it with one eye closed. She watched as he ran his fingers gently over the surface, finding herself strangely fascinated by the way he stroked the glass and ran his thumb over the seal, then held it out at arm’s length, with it lying on his palm, as though guessing its weight.

  ‘It feels right to me.’ He glanced up at her. ‘Hand blown. Rough surface with a lot of imperfections, crude in some ways, but more than that.’ He frowned, running his finger over it again. ‘I can feel its age. Don’t ask me how, but I can.’

  ‘Andy said the top was machined,’ she put in quietly.

  ‘Crap. He doesn’t know anything about glass if he says that. And he calls himself a dealer! No,’ he ran his forefinger over the seal, ‘no, it’s not machine made. I couldn’t date it for you. A museum would have to do that.’

  ‘But it is Egyptian?’ She looked up at him.

  ‘Does Louisa Shelley say it is?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ She bit her lip.

  ‘Then it’s Egyptian.’ He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Anna, why not find a nice bit of diary to read?’ he suggested suddenly. ‘Something cheerful. There must be nice bits in it. Then put it away for now and come sailing. Can I try and find you a cheerful bit to read?’

  She hesitat
ed.

  ‘I won’t damage it, I promise. I’ll just glance through and look at the writing. You can tell a lot from writing, you know.’ He paused and when she didn’t say anything else he sat down on the bed and began to leaf carefully through the diary beyond the place she had marked.

  She stood watching him without a word, wondering why she had let him, why she had invited him in, why she had shown him the bottle. Why she felt more comfortable with him than she did, she now realised, with Andy. In spite of Andy’s accusations, accusations which, she acknowledged thoughtfully, she never had for one moment believed!

  He looked up suddenly. ‘Here. Look. This seems to be a good bit. See, the writing is springy and even and the picture is cheerful. Can I read it to you?’

  Shrugging, she sat down on the stool.

  Hassan had returned the day they moored at Philae. The Scarab had moored a stone’s throw from them and the Fieldings’ dahabeeyah a few yards beyond that.

  With quiet dignity Hassan had accepted Sir John’s explanation that it had all been a misunderstanding and he had slipped quietly back into the life of the boat as though he had never been away, except that now, Louisa knew, the Forresters must have guessed that her relationship with him was more friendly than any of them chose publicly to admit.

  It was dark when Louisa crept out on deck to find Hassan waiting to row her ashore. ‘I have told the Forresters that I wish to paint the river in the moonlight,’ she said quietly. ‘They no longer try to stop me, and I believe Lord Carstairs is aboard the Lotus, discussing the taking of photographs with Mr Fielding who has brought a camera with him, so we should be undisturbed.’

  ‘Save for the baksheesh boys.’ Hassan smiled. ‘They are here day and night.’

  ‘And can be bought off?’

  ‘Oh indeed. They can be bought off.’ He nodded.

  A huge moon shone across the water, throwing black shadows across the sand. They walked slowly, taking in the intense beauty of the night. All around them the temple pillars, the distant hills, the dunes, the sand, had turned from gold to glittering silver.