Sibylla cleared her throat. “First, I have something to tell all of you. John, please fetch Victoria! Something has happened at the harbor.”
A few minutes later, the family had gathered. John, standing behind Victoria’s chair, grumbled, “I can’t wait to hear what can be so important as to keep me from my Sunday roast!”
Sibylla, fingers interlaced in her lap, looked first at Thomas and then at John before speaking. “Somebody has broken into the cabinet in my office. All of the saffron and the cash box are gone.”
“Merciful heavens!” Victoria covered her mouth. “To think what might have happened had you caught the intruder in the act!”
“She’s absolutely right. From now on, you should never go to the harbor unescorted,” Thomas cautioned her.
Sibylla nodded.
“I’ll go to the qaid and demand that he order an investigation,” John decided. “Perhaps there’s a connection to the attack at Qasr el Bahia. It could be that those thugs were trying again to steal Rouston’s saffron.”
“But how could they know that I had taken the saffron with me?” Sibylla objected.
“Yes, quite right.” John furrowed his brow. “But what about the possibility that it was the same man who broke in here and frightened Firyal?”
Sibylla stared at him. Goose bumps rose on her skin as she thought of that night when she had stood in front of the dug-up dirt around the foundation of the sundial.
Carefully, as though afraid of being followed, the man looked over his shoulder. Then he gently pushed down the handle of the blue wooden door leading to the Hopkins family’s kitchen, but, of course, he found it firmly locked so late in the evening. The man pulled the hood of his djellaba even tighter over his face, stood close to the wall of the house, and waited.
A few minutes passed. Then he heard a soft sound. Metal scratched on wood, a heavy latch was pushed aside, the door was cracked open, and Emily stuck out her head. “Sabri? Are you there?”
“Yes,” he whispered and moved away from the wall.
“Oh, I’m so glad!” She threw herself into his arms and covered his face with kisses. He pulled her close, nestled his face in the warm crook of her neck, and inhaled the sweet scent of her skin.
“You’re all right! Thanks be to God!”
He had been worried since a messenger had delivered a letter from Emily that afternoon with news of the burglary. Had she not written that she would meet him after evening prayers by the back entrance of the house, he would have come earlier to see for himself that she was unharmed.
She set pillows on the threshold and they sat next to each other. Emily snuggled up to Sabri’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here. The atmosphere in the house is horrid. Everyone is so nervous.”
“Of course. I am too.” Sabri looked at Emily. “You look very pretty.”
All she wore was a long nightgown, slippers, and a shawl around her shoulders to ward off the cool air. During their embrace, he had felt her body through the thin cloth as though she were naked and the thought aroused him.
“Really? Shall I try to seduce you?” She coyly lifted the hem of her nightgown a little.
“Oh, stop it!” he countered throatily. “You’re making me all muddled.”
She smiled and let the hem fall. “Have you spoken to your family about us?” Her large dark- blue eyes looked at him, full of anticipation.
“Yes.”
“And? What did they say?”
He stared at the ground and stayed silent.
“Oh,” she mumbled. “It must not have gone very well.”
“What do you expect? I don’t imagine that a Muslim and Christian in Morocco have ever before wanted to get married!”
“Might not we hope to become the first?” Emily sounded disheartened.
He placed his arm around her shoulder. “If I didn’t have hope, life would lose its meaning.”
Sabri was grateful Emily hadn’t pressed him for details.
“Marry for love? You deplorable fool!” his father had raged. “That is for stories and infidels! The woman is the man’s seedbed—so it is written. She must obey you and bear sons to be your heirs and daughters to care for you in your old age. This infidel, this daughter of sin, has robbed you of your senses! I forbid you to mention her name in this house ever again!”
Sabri had pointed out that the Koran permitted marriage between a man who was a true believer and a woman of the People of the Book. After all, his father had married a Christian woman—Sabri’s own mother, a native of Abyssinia.
At that, his father had turned red with rage. “You insolent boy! You dare oppose me? Your mother was a slave. It was my duty to marry her because it is written: marry the unmarried women among you as well as the righteous slaves. But now God is punishing me for allowing my only son to study among the infidels! Oh, Lord, smite me down, so that I no longer have to suffer the indignity of watching him besmirch the honor of his family!”
The fracas had attracted Sabri’s mother and grandmother, his unmarried aunts and sisters, as well as his father’s chief wife. As soon as they heard about the outrageous wish of the only son in the family, they began wailing. Sabri’s mother shed bitter tears of shame, his aunts insisted he be punished, his unmarried sisters lamented the fact that no honorable man would marry them now, and the chief wife looked daggers at the Abyssinian woman and claimed to have seen this catastrophe coming.
It had taken all of Sabri’s moral and intellectual strength to withstand this onslaught, but he had maintained his position: he was going to marry Emily and not some child he had never even seen before, even if she was the immaculate daughter of the qaid!
Once Haji Abdul had seen that his rage was having no effect, he became deathly calm. “Tomorrow morning, I will call on the qaid and have a marriage contract drawn up. You will be married by the end of the month. Should you dare to defy me,” he had announced with an ominous flash in his eyes, “you will no longer be my son!”
Sabri felt like he was swallowing knives each time he recalled his father’s words. He loved his family. He loved being in their company, eating, singing, telling stories, sharing tales of sorrow and success with them, and he wanted them to love Emily as he did. He could not possibly tell her of their horror and shame.
But she had already noticed how downcast he was. “They want nothing to do with me, don’t they?” She sadly rested her head on his shoulder.
Gray clouds in the night sky began to obscure the moon, and Emily shivered at the thought of all the obstacles in their way. “Are you going to leave me?” she asked anxiously.
“Never! I would never think of doing that!” He kissed her passionately.
“I am so relieved,” she whispered. “But what shall we do?”
He forced a smile. “I could abduct you. We have that custom. If the couples’ families don’t agree, the bridegroom abducts the bride and they marry in secret.”
“So they elope,” Emily replied. Suddenly, she sat up and grabbed Sabri’s arm. “That’s it! You’ll abduct me. We’ll run away together, we can marry, and then no one can keep us apart anymore.”
Sabri’s eyes grew large. “That is one option—not the best, but—”
“—but we don’t have any choice!” Emily finished.
They talked for a while about where to go. Qasr el Bahia was out of the question because it would be the first place they would be sought. They dared not go to the mountains as long as the men who had assaulted the estate were still at large. Finally, Sabri suggested Cairo. “The mother of all cities is so large that they would never find us. And there is plenty of work for a physician.”
But Emily had a better idea. “What do you think of London? Mother wants to send me there anyway. And I happen to know that one of our ships, the Queen Charlotte, is about to set sail.”
Sabri thought about that idea. After his experience at Qasr el Bahia, he had toyed with the idea of returning to Charing Cross Hospital to study the medical art of sur
gery and better learn to treat bone fractures.
“London is good,” he finally agreed. “But you do realize that we may never be able to return here?”
Emily swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“And you still want to go with me?”
“I will tell Mother tomorrow that I plan to sail to London on the Queen Charlotte. You had best get a cabin right away. They don’t have much space for passengers.”
Sabri rose and lifted her. “I must go now. If someone sees us, our plan will be for naught.” He embraced her.
She scrutinized his face. “You do mean it, don’t you, Sabri?”
He kissed her one last time that night. “Send me word and I’ll meet you at the harbor!”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sibylla, Emily, and Victoria had tea in the courtyard of the riad. They sat on little chairs they normally took on picnics, and a pot of freshly brewed tea stood on a table next to small cakes filled with ginger jelly and candied oranges.
Sibylla, exhausted, massaged her temples with her fingertips and watched her daughter, who was showing Charlotte and Selwyn the drawings she had done at Qasr el Bahia. She had tossed and turned in bed all night, unable to shake off a shapeless fear.
Emily was just as unnerved. Her decision to elope weighed heavily on her. Sabri had certainly already paid for his passage on the Queen Charlotte. But now she felt like she was betraying her mother. Not for the first time, she opened her mouth but was unable to utter a single word. Charlotte was pushing against her knees and pointed to the drawing on her lap. “Ooh, what a big house!”
“This house is called Qasr el Bahia,” Emily replied, “and it’s in the mountains. Can you see those mountaintops? They’re white because there’s snow up there.”
“What’s snow?” Selwyn wanted to know.
Victoria smiled as she looked up from her embroidering. “In the winter, there was snow in London, and sometimes even ice on the Thames. But you don’t remember that, do you?”
Selwyn’s eyes grew large and he shook his head.
“Mother,” Emily started, and once again she stopped short.
Her mother looked so tired, so worried. Emily thought about how devastated she would be to learn that her only daughter had deluded her, that her journey was only a subterfuge. Finally, in desperation, she blurted it out all at once. “I’ve been thinking, Mother, and I believe you’re right. I will travel to London and start my art studies. I’ll leave on the Queen Charlotte whenever she sets sail.”
“But that’s tomorrow!” Sibylla cried out. “How on earth are we to get everything ready?”
“We shall just have to be quick,” Emily replied, her heart pounding. How she longed to tell her mother the truth!
Grateful for the diversion, Sibylla began pacing back and forth and pondering all that had to be organized in such a short time. “Nadira, fetch Firyal! She’s going to accompany Emily to Europe. And she must help me pack.”
“At once, my lady. I’ll get the trunks out of the storage room and clean them.” Nadira hurried away.
Victoria listened with mixed feelings. She was struck by a perfect yet unreasonable idea that she could not shake off.
“Who is going to accompany Emily?” Victoria cautiously inquired. “You, Mother?”
Sibylla smiled as she looked up from the list she was making. “Actually, I was going to ask if you might be so kind. You would be doing me a great service.”
Victoria’s eyes were brimming with tears. “No, you would be doing me one,” she finally managed to say.
Then she remembered Charlotte and Selwyn. “I can’t leave,” she said sadly. “What about the children?”
Footsteps could be heard on the wooden stairs and, a short time later, John appeared. He had just come from Qaid Samir to inquire whether the thief or thieves had been apprehended.
“What was that about the children?” he asked and mussed Selwyn’s hair. Then he spotted the tea table. “Isn’t that my favorite type of cake? Surely you three weren’t going to eat these all by yourselves?”
While Emily poured tea for him, Sibylla grabbed a plate and heaped numerous small cakes on it. “Here you are, my son. Enjoy!”
“You wouldn’t be trying to bribe me by any chance, would you?” he asked, only half joking. “Out with it: What are you two plotting?”
Sibylla laughed sheepishly. “Emily has decided to travel to London tomorrow, and I have asked Victoria to go with her.”
“Excuse me?” John froze, cake suspended halfway to his mouth. “What can you be thinking? Who’s going to care for the children? Victoria cannot take them with her. The winter in England is bad for Selwyn’s lungs.”
“Victoria is not going forever. Emily’s studies will take only a year. Charlotte and Selwyn are well cared for right here, and it’s simply impossible for Emily to travel alone.”
John resolutely shook his head. “No, I won’t allow it.”
“But, John,” Sibylla tried.
“I’m going!”
Everyone’s head spun around. Charlotte and Selwyn abruptly stopped their game of catch. Victoria had jumped up from her chair, her embroidering fallen to the floor.
“I am going to London with Emily. Tomorrow morning!” she announced. “Your mother is absolutely right, John. The children are well cared for. I’ll miss them terribly, that’s true.” Her voice trembled and she furtively wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “But I’m not leaving them forever. I’m coming back.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying!” John was shattered. His wife had never before opposed him so resolutely.
“Oh yes, John Hopkins, I know exactly what I’m saying!” Victoria’s cheeks were burning. “For the past two years, not a day has gone by that I have not been homesick. Now I have the chance to see England again, and I will go whether you like it or not!”
John could only stare at her, speechless. Sibylla bit her lips to hide a smile, but Emily clapped her hands and shouted, “Bravo, Victoria!”
“You women always stick together!” John snapped at her angrily.
Victoria went to him and put her hand on his arm. “I believe that I will find life in Mogador easier if I can spend a little time at home,” she explained quietly.
“Your home is here,” he grumbled and then, when she did not say anything, added uneasily, “Who knows, if you go, maybe you won’t want to return.”
“But of course I’ll come back. Surely you don’t think that I’ll leave you and the children!”
John struggled for several moments before forcing out the words, “All right then, go, for God’s sake.”
After another long silence, Sibylla asked, “John, what did Qaid Samir say? Does he have any information on the thieves?”
“He’s posted guards at all the city gates as well as at the harbor, but there’s no trace so far. I still have work to do, so if you’ll excuse me.” A few moments later, the front door was loudly pulled shut.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t—” Victoria started awkwardly.
“Of course you should!” Sibylla said. “My son will have to get used to the fact that, every now and then, his wife makes her own decisions.”
Late that night, there was a soft knock on Sibylla’s bedroom door. Emily’s voice whispered timidly, “Are you still awake, Mummy?”
“Come in!” Sibylla hastily stuffed her tattered edition of the One Thousand and One Nights into the drawer of her nightstand and sat up on her pillows.
Emily slipped inside the room. She was barefoot and, despite being almost twenty-one, her wide nightgown and long curls made Sibylla think wistfully of the little girl she had been. She felt a rush of sadness at the thought that her youngest was about to leave for faraway England.
The day had ended in a mad rush. The news that she would accompany Emily and Victoria had caused Firyal to panic. “Please don’t do this to me, my lady, I beg you!” she had implored. “The ocean’s evil spirits will devour our ship and we will all drown!”<
br />
She had only given herself over to fate after much cajoling, many tears, and the promise of extra pay.
Then they’d realized that neither Emily nor the servant had clothes suitable for the English winter. Victoria offered some of her own, and Nadira altered them as best she could. Still, Emily’s dress was too short and Firyal’s too tight. But they would have to do until a new wardrobe could be acquired in London.
And then the messenger Sibylla had sent to the Queen Charlotte to reserve two cabins had returned with bad news. Because she was a cargo vessel, the Queen Charlotte had few passenger cabins and all but one were occupied. Emily, Victoria, and Firyal would have to share one cabin. Knowing how cramped conditions on a ship were, Sibylla could only hope that the two very different sisters-in-law would not have a complete falling-out before they had berthed in London.
“You’re excited, aren’t you?” she asked her daughter.
Emily nodded.
“I feel the same.” Sibylla pulled back her bedspread and patted the mattress. “Come here, little one.”
Emily happily slipped in next to her mother. Sibylla tucked the covers in around them and put her arm around her daughter. The dimly flickering light of the oil lamp danced on the dark walls and furniture.
Emily snuggled up to her mother. “Almost like the old days, isn’t it, Mummy?”
Sibylla smiled. “You mean when Firyal told you stories about the djinn that skulked around our house at night and you wanted to sleep with me because you were afraid?”
“She used to do that to punish me whenever I snuck sweets. But now she’s afraid that Satan’s son, Zalamur, is going to drag our ship down to hell.” Emily giggled.
“And what about you?” Sibylla stroked her daughter’s hair. “Are you afraid of your trip to England?”
Emily was silent, and Sibylla was surprised to see tears in her eyes. She had thought that Emily’s curiosity and love of adventure would overpower any fear of the unknown.
“You’re going to have a wonderful time in England, my sweet girl. I’m going to give you a letter for your uncle Oscar to explain the reasons for your unannounced visit, and I’m quite sure that the family will be delighted to meet you. And I will inform your father of your departure as well.”
The Lioness of Morocco Page 36