Val’s thoughts were gaining momentum. He didn’t know why it afforded him pleasure to finally learn she hadn’t lied—that she must therefore be crazy—but it did. She had wanted to be happy, and she had said being with him was happiness itself.
That very fact had been reason enough to marry her if he had been possessed of even an iota of sense. Two crazy people together might have been happy.
Alita Stanton was the most amazing mix of seductress and saint he had ever met, and he had let her go.
Why, in God’s name, he was starting to wonder.
He was fairly certain Sherwood wouldn’t make the same mistake.
42
A Shared Love
“I shall miss it.” As the RMS Imperial pulled out of the bay at Alexandria, Alita felt her eyes swimming. She never imagined that only five weeks after arriving she would leave so much behind.
Along with a respectable sampling of the other one hundred and sixty-six first-class passengers, she and William were seated in the first-class dining saloon. Their eyes were glued to a large porthole, which afforded them a grand view of the magical city while sparing them the smoke exhaust generated by the twelve boilers. As the Imperial strove to separate herself from exotic lands and return to the largest and most technologically advanced city in the world, it was as if the ship protested violently, spitting streams of black smoke fifty feet into the air from each of two huge cylinders.
“Not I. Everything dear to me is in London.” He smiled at her. “Or will be.”
She smiled back. “I never thanked you for escorting us, William. It meant the world to Grandmamma and me. We should have never fared so well.”
“It was my pleasure, I assure you, Miss Alita. I don’t believe I was ever so happy, and that is saying something as I am not one to wish to be far from home.”
“You are so kind, William. You must have missed everyone—your friends and family.” William was both social and well loved in his sphere.
“I did. But we shall all be together again.”
Once the Imperial was underway, standing on the deck would be idyllic, the four masts of sails sharing more of the burden of travel, but for now the saloon on this most elegant of ships held the most romantic ambiance. Champagne was poured, lively smiles reflecting a holiday never to be forgotten. Crystal glasses toasted, ignorant of two hearts meant to be together, distancing themselves from each other with each second which passed.
William was in good spirits—and he looked the part dressed impeccably in a black morning suit with vest, crisp white shirt, maroon-and-white silk tie, and gold-and-ruby tie clip. Seated across from her at their private table positioned next to a porthole, he took her hand, his expression full of hope and promise. “I know our acquaintance is of short duration, but I can’t imagine loving you more than I do now. I couldn’t have contrived a more romantic setting than this. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife, Alita?”
“Oh, William,” she whispered. Her lips trembled, and she felt her eyes tearing up after exercising control for so long.
“Dearest, whatever is wrong?” He took her hand and kissed it.
“I cannot marry you, William. And I love you so.” Alita felt a sadness wash over her.
“I–I don’t understand, my love.” He moved back in his seat, his confidence obviously waning.
“I love you, William. With all my heart. But not as a wife should love you.”
“Miss Alita…” His expression was one of having been taken to the heights of heaven and the depths of despair in an instant. “Whatever can you mean?”
“William, to be your wife is what dreams are made of. And you are so kind, so valiant, able to provide everything a woman could want.”
“Forgive me, Miss Alita.” He stared at her in wonderment. She kept waiting for his expression to turn hard, but it didn’t. “I don’t understand the problem.”
Alita shook her head in dismay. She was not like Valerius, who, when everything he wanted came knocking at his door, turned it down. He had only known a life of hardship, and happiness was so unfamiliar it could not be trusted.
In contrast, she was willing and able to receive happiness—if it were offered.
Then why do I feel as if I am on the brink of throwing away my one chance of happiness?
She was never going to marry Lord Ravensdale, she was sure of it. She didn’t see him in her future. And I have the sight.
It was inconceivable someone more exemplary than William Priestly would come along. He was the best she could hope for—and a very good “best” he was.
Panic rising up inside her, she felt as if she were suffocating.
And yet she just could not form the words to agree. Her heart rebelled in every way.
It just isn’t right. It wasn’t right for her, and it wasn’t right for William. And she always took the right course, even when her logic rebelled.
Especially when her logic rebelled.
No longer can I act out my fairy-tale life anymore. It didn’t feel authentic for her any longer.
“William, I don’t know how to explain. I’m…different. I see things.”
“You see things? I don’t take your meaning, Miss Alita,” he inquired, his expression patient.
“I know what people are feeling. And recently I’ve developed the ability to know of events before they happen.” Alita replied quietly. “I am changing in ways I do not understand and for reasons I cannot conceive.”
“Alita, I can’t fathom what you are speaking of”—William gazed upon her with affection, his expression resolute—“but I’m sure it doesn’t affect us.”
“How can who I am not affect us?”
“Everyone has their eccentricities.” William’s expression was resolute. “As long as you present your most charming side in public, which assuredly you will, your purported odd propensities should not be a problem. We won’t speak of it.”
“We won’t speak of what, William?” Alexandria was getting smaller and smaller in the window. She folded her hands in her lap even as she could still hear the glasses tinkling.
“It truly doesn’t matter to me what you see.” His face turned momentarily hard, but his eyes caressed her tenderly. “I know in my heart in twenty years time you won’t be having affairs outside marriage, as many of my friends’ mothers do, some of whom have approached me, for God’s sake. Forgive me for speaking of it, but I feel it is necessary to make my point.” His expression revealed his disgust.
“No.” She shook her head, speaking softly. “I would not.”
“Don’t you see, Alita? I want to marry a woman of character, someone true. A woman with a pure heart who will be a loving wife and mother. An intelligent mother to my children. You are all this and so much more, my darling. The fact that you are the most beautiful woman of my acquaintance is simply icing on the cake.” As she looked into his eyes, she saw genuine longing there. He grasped her hand, the action conveying to Alita his desperation despite his natural gentleness. He rarely did more than merely brush her hand.
“We would do nicely together, William.” She nodded in agreement, almost tempted beyond endurance. They would have a good life together…not a wonderful life, but a good life.
“And to all that, your charm and goodness would be a great asset to my career. You are a perfect politician’s wife. And perfect for me.” His eyes searching hers, he added, “Tell me what you require from me. Do you desire that I should support women’s suffrage? To not support women’s suffrage? I can accomplish either and manage public opinion. We can manage it together. Or is it something else?” He loosened his hold but took her hands, love in his eyes.
She heard the blaring of the ship’s horn, startling her. She tipped her large white velvet hat trimmed in forest-green feathers, hiding her eyes for only an instant before returning her eyes to his.
“William, I do love you. Deeply. But not as my one marriage partner in life. We’re not on the same journey.”
“Jou
rney.” William stared at her. “But, dearest, what journey is that?”
“Before I came to Egypt, I followed a script. It wasn’t my script, but it seduced me.” Alita struggled to explain what she doubted he could understand, but she owed it to him to try.
“Seduced you?” He appeared alarmed.
“I lived inside a painting with no hope of new colors or scenes being added.” She sighed. “I do not belong there anymore. Not now.”
“Lived inside a painting?” he repeated. Agitation replaced longing on William’s face, an emotion she had rarely seen him exhibit. “Sounds like a line from Byron’s poetry.”
“To the contrary. It is an expression of my personal feelings.”
Bitterness crossed Lord Sherwood’s countenance. “It’s that damned Ravensdale fellow, isn’t it? He filled your head with all kinds of melancholy, tragic nonsense.” He almost sputtered, “You wanted to live inside a painting, and now you don’t?”
“It is an analogy, William. Surely you take my point.”
“I know good and well that if you had not met Ravensdale, you would marry me.”
“That is very likely true.” She swallowed hard. “But would you wish me to marry you before I knew my own heart? Would you wish to be married to a woman who could not love you in the way you deserve to be loved?”
In an instant he regained his composure, his manner pleading. “Miss Alita, I implore you to leave behind lachrymose thoughts and embrace the real world of happiness which is available to you. For my sake and yours. I’ll move heaven and earth to make you happy, Alita, I love you,” he emphasized. “How can anything be more important than that?”
“Nothing, William. Nothing is more important than that.”
“Then why…?”
“William, you have fallen in love with a type of woman. You haven’t fallen in love with me.” How she wished it were not so.
“That is absolutely not true. There is no one else like you, Miss Alita.”
“If there is something about me you don’t understand, you pretend it isn’t true and ignore it. Shouldn’t married people seek to learn about each other instead of running from each other?”
“Miss Alita, I will accept your refusal as a gentleman, no matter how much it pains me, but I will not allow these untrue words to pass. You are my angel, and I do love you. You are the only thing I have ever truly wanted in my life.” His blond hair framed his perfect features, his air distant.
“Please believe me, William.” In that moment she would have given anything to help this dear man understand. “I may appear to be the right match for you, but, in essence, I am not.” She reached out and squeezed his hand.
“And who is, if not you?” He shook his head in disbelief.
“Do you recall Charlise Noel?”
“Of course,” he replied softly. “She introduced us, in effect.”
“Charlise has all these qualities you desire, in addition to an unequaled purity.” She sighed. Charlise was never conflicted. She knew precisely what she was about.
“Now is not the time to console me with matchmaking, Miss Alita,” he implored with an uncharacteristic gruffness.
“Oh, I am sorry. It was very unfeeling of me.” She never seemed to say the right thing. The ship was now well underway, and she stood, needing to move in order to dispel some of her despair. Inadvertently she smoothed her moss-green velvet traveling jacket from which emerged a flow of white ruffles. He stood without speaking, and she straightened her hat even as he offered her his arm. On some level, they understood each other so well, even without words.
“Shall we take a stroll about the ship, William?” She placed her hand in his, and they began to walk the ship’s deck in silence, the view of Egypt becoming smaller and smaller, both of them devastated with lost love and a lost life. They each saw nothing else in their futures as yet, and it pained them to be in each other’s presence.
At the same time, their shared love for each other provided some comfort, and it was difficult to be anywhere but together.
43
Valley of the Kings
“There has been a discovery,” Mr. Mariette, Curator of the Museum of Cairo, announced, his voice elevated.
Val was working in his private office the following week when he received a personal visit from Mr. Mariette accompanied by Sir Evelyn. It was highly unusual to receive the attention of two such notables in his Spartan quarters.
“Would you care to be seated, Lord Cromer? Mr. Mariette?” Val stood and offered the only two chairs in the room, one of them his desk chair. He didn’t offer sherry, as he knew Mr. Mariette did not drink. Val moved to hand a cordial to Sir Evelyn who accepted it.
Sir Evelyn took a seat on the room’s one comfortable chair, situated centrally on a crimson-and-navy Persian rug.
“No, thank you, I couldn’t possibly sit.” Mr. Mariette abandoned his customarily subdued, intellectual manner and paced the room with uncontrolled energy. His strong Egyptian features clean shaven of facial hair further revealed his excitement.
“I can see you are anxious to tell me about this discovery. What have you found?” Val forced an interest. Ever since Alita had left his enthusiasm for work had waned. He returned to his desk chair, wondering casually what urn or skeleton had resurfaced and what year it might date to. The object must be something of importance to have warranted this visit.
“An archeological find of great significance.” Each of Mr. Mariette’s words were emphasized with the creaking of the ebony wood floors.
“And how can I be of use?” Val leaned forward with interest, his curiosity slowly igniting.
“Lord Cromer has graciously agreed I might have use of your hieroglyphic interpretive services, Captain Ravensdale,” Mr. Mariette continued, clearing his throat. He straightened the dark silk tie of his three-piece suit, his expression suddenly humbled and pleading. “If you can spare the time, of course.”
“Though I would certainly not pass up the invitation, you have those skills yourself, Mr. Mariette. I wonder why you would need me?”
The curator chuckled as one who had access to a great secret. “There is far too much work for one interpreter, I assure you.” He shrugged. “And it is necessary to have confirmation of the translation in a find as important as this one.”
“Too much work for one man, eh?” It was sounding better and better.
“Believe me, it will be worth your while, Ravensdale,” Sir Evelyn added, crossing his legs, a suppressed smile on his lips.
I’ve been told that before.
“What have you found, Mr. Mariette?” Val was unable to wait politely for the information any longer, beginning to wonder if it would ever be forthcoming.
“It appears to be a burial ground,” stated Mr. Mariette, barely able to contain his excitement. Val knew the curator to be serious about his work and Egyptian heritage, but he had never before seen this level of emotion from the scholar. “It is an extensive discovery.”
“Fascinating. And where is it?” asked Val.
“In the low desert margin south of the Great Sphinx.” Mr. Mariette motioned his arms in the direction as if it might instantly transport them there.
Val raised his eyebrows. Something about that location struck a familiar chord.
He recalled Alita speaking of a fall ‘south of the Great Sphinx’. An odd coincidence, to be sure.
Val glanced to Sir Evelyn, who nodded his approval. “I’ll see you in a few days when you return, Ravensdale.”
“By all means,” Val answered with anticipation. “Let’s commence immediately.”
“Tomorrow morning then, Captain Ravensdale.” Mr. Mariette shook Val’s hand, smiling broadly.
Part of the journey was in a felucca on the Nile River, followed by travel on horses to the site. While in the sailboat, Val had more opportunity to speak with Mr. Mariette. “And how was the discovery made?” he asked.
“It was an accident,” exclaimed Mr. Mariette with gurgling laughte
r, making no effort to hide his amazement. “It was the most extraordinary circumstance. There was no digging for ten years before the find. The discovery was actually made by a man falling from his horse.”
“Falling from his horse?” Val focused all his attention on Mr. Mariette. A fall south of the Great Sphinx.
“Ravensdale, what is it?” Mr. Mariette appeared startled by Val’s expression.
“Nothing. Continue, please,” Val barked, realizing too late it sounded more like a command than a request.
“Is something disturbing you, Lord Ravensdale?” asked Mr. Mariette.
“No, of course not. Tell me the whole, Mr. Mariette,” implored Val.
“To be sure. A find of this magnitude makes everyone behave uncharacteristically. I see that even in myself.” Mr. Mariette smiled warmly.
“You were describing the fall, Mr. Mariette?” Val asked with all the patience he could muster.
Which wasn’t much.
“A rider’s horse stumbled into a hole, revealing a mud-brick wall,” began Mr. Mariette. “Digging into the sand, we first uncovered a cemetery of mud-brick and stone tombs.”
“You found the tombs under the ground, not in the pyramids?”
“Yes.”
“That would mean…this was a burial ground for the lower castes,” Val found himself saying with more than a little discomfort.
“Precisely.” Mr. Mariette smiled at Val’s conclusion. “It appears to be a burial ground for the workers themselves—the lower castes—by the number of tombs crammed into the space.”
Val reached for ship’s rail, his head throbbing, feeling as if he were suddenly seasick. “You did not mention, Mr. Mariette, that this was a burial ground for the workers.”
It’s a strange set of circumstances, nothing more. Archeological digs always have an element of mystery and unpredictability.
“Oh, didn’t I? Well, only the first level. We’re not sure about what lays beyond. That’s why we need you, Ravensdale,” Mr. Mariette added, taking a step back. “Do you need a doctor?”
The Destiny Code: The Soldier and the Mystic (Daughters of the Empire Book 1) Page 35