by Lara Temple
‘That has been pointed out to me before, for various reasons. What is yours?’
‘I cannot make out what you are thinking.’
‘That is a good sign. I’ve spent many years working to achieve that effect and it is comforting to know I’ve succeeded. Do you always expect to know what people are thinking, Miss Osbourne?’
‘No, that would be presumptuous of me, but few people make the effort to truly hide their thoughts and even fewer do so while appearing so amicable and reasonable on the surface.’
He pressed a hand to his chest.
‘Are you implying that I am duplicitous, Miss Cleopatra-Patrick-on-the-run-dressed-as-a-boy?’
‘No, I am saying you possess a singular talent, Mr Grey. It was a compliment.’
‘I shall return the compliment by telling you precisely what I am thinking, which is that though I find your singular talent for not chattering very impressive, at the moment I need you to tell me as much as you can about your situation so I know what lies ahead of us.’
She sighed and touched the tip of her tongue to the dry skin of her lower lip. His tongue tingled and he pressed his teeth into it. Down, boy. Wholly inopportune.
‘I don’t particularly enjoy talking about my family’s affairs, Mr Grey.’
‘Perfectly understandable. I myself would prefer to share my bed with a dozen warthogs rather than do that, but, given the circumstances, you will have to overcome your distaste.’
‘I know that. I am not certain where to begin. With my father, I suppose. He is rather hard to explain. He was a...a collector.’
‘Of?’
‘Curios. He travelled the world collecting whatever he thought people might have an interest in buying. Masks, statues, anything really. Since we came to Egypt he concentrated on statues and ancient jewellery. And mummies.’
‘Mummies? As in...mummies? Dead people mummies? Your father was a grave robber?’
‘Of course not, mummies aren’t...they...he...well, I dare say you are right. Amongst other things. For the most part he worked for a French antiquities trader in Cairo named Boucheron, but he recently tried to find independent sources of income.’
‘Such as selling decomposing corpses.’
‘They are remarkably well preserved; that is the whole point. He recently sold a shipment of some three dozen mummies to a man named Pettifer in London who also has an interest in Egyptian curiosities.’
‘He shipped three dozen dead people to London.’
‘They weren’t all people. There were also some baboons and cats and even a crocodile...’ She must have seen something of his thoughts on his face for her honey-brown eyes filled with laughter. ‘Never mind. I know it is ghoulish, but there is a market for them thanks to the likes of Belzoni and Drovetti. People pay to watch them unwrapped.’
‘Good God.’
‘You are very squeamish for a mercenary, Mr Grey.’
‘Having my life almost forcibly removed from me on too many occasions, I have a healthy respect for it. I don’t like the thought of my body being...tampered with.’
‘Well, I don’t think you need worry about that as you are unlikely to be mummified.’
‘I prefer not to think about it at all, Miss Morbid. Shall we return to your father?’
‘I dare say we must. The point is that my father was a scavenger. Rather like the ibises by the Nile—he collected what he could and hurried away when bigger prey arrived. That is why we moved so often.’
‘And this is how you were raised?’ That explained quite a bit.
‘Not wholly. Until I was fourteen I lived with my mother in a small town near Dover. After she died...eventually we went to live with my father. He was in Acre at the time, searching for Templar treasure.’
Eventually. There was a wealth of possibilities tucked into that word. Curiosity plucked at him again, but he concentrated on his objective.
‘I presume he found none?’
Her dimples appeared though her mouth merely gave a small quirk, as if struggling against invisible constraints.
‘Naturally not. We were quite hopeful for a while, though.’
‘So was I at fourteen. What happened next?’
‘He ran afoul of Suleiman, the local Mameluke ruler.’
‘What did he do? Try to steal his mummy?’
‘I see you find this amusing, Mr Grey.’
‘No, merely trying to raise a smile out of you. I’m improving, aren’t I?’
Her smile won out over the dimples and he found himself smiling back.
‘So you left Acre for Egypt?’
‘No, first we went to Greece where Father found someone who made wonderful statuettes which he then made to look ancient by staining them with tea and cracking them. Dash and I enjoyed that part of it. Then they shipped them to accomplices of theirs in England until he was requested to leave after...after his partner returned to England and my father could not pay his debts. From there we went to Zanzibar because he had heard from Mr Pettifer that there was demand for more exotic findings. We lived there until—’
‘Let me guess. Until he fell afoul of the local ruler and was forced to leave. Again.’
‘No, his searches meant we sailed a great deal along the coast and at one point the ship we were on was captured by pirates.’
‘Good God! How old were you? Were you...hurt?’
She tipped her head on one side, considering the undercurrent he could not hide from his question.
‘Ever since I came to live with my father I have often been Patrick. He said he could hardly take in a girl and was planning to send me to some horrid convent school in the desert. I refused to go and leave Dash alone with him. Patrick was a compromise.’
He digested this piece of information, adjusting his thoughts and curbing his temper, but it wasn’t easy. Fathers were a sore point with him, but hers was shaping up to be someone he most definitely would not have gone out of his way to help.
‘Do you mean to say you have been masquerading as Patrick Osbourne from the age of fourteen?’
‘Well, only part of the time. It was far simpler than it sounds. We were children and there were very few Europeans where we were and many tended to be associated with the various churches and therefore naturally my father avoided them. The most creditable Englishwoman I met during this period was Lady Hester Stanhope and she was dressed far more outrageously than I.’
‘You met her?’
‘I did, though not in the best of circumstances. My father tried to insinuate himself into her expedition to Ascalon, but once he realised she planned to surrender whatever she found to the authorities he left. She was very kind to Dash and me and thoroughly approved of my man’s garb, having adopted it herself long before. She even gave me a pair of her embroidered trousers.’
‘So she, at least, knew you were a girl.’
‘Oh, yes. It is usually the women who see through my disguise, but they rarely tell the men.’
‘The world in a nutshell.’ He grinned and she finally turned to him fully.
‘You saw through it, Mr Grey. What does that make you?’ Her smile, complicit and full of mischievous light, felt like an invitation to step over an unseen barrier... Into what, he had no idea, except that it was probably not a line he ought to cross. He pulled back on the reins he hadn’t realised were slipping.
‘Observant by necessity. My livelihood depends on it, Miss Osbourne. Now that we have established your father’s dubious activities, tell me what happened here in Egypt.’
She shrugged and swirled her tea.
‘The French led by Drovetti protect the antiquities trade jealously, sometimes violently. That is why Father decided it was safer to work with them. Boucheron hired him to help set up workshops to produce what they term souvenirs for sale in Paris and London and Vienna.’
‘Sounds sensible. What went wrong?’
‘My father never abandoned his dream of making a great discovery and he felt Boucheron’s activities demeaned him. He wanted to be a Belzoni.’
‘What on earth is a Belzoni?’
‘Not what, who. Belzoni made his name transporting the statue of young Memnon to England and explored as far south as Ybsambul. He is all the rage in England now. My father abhorred him.’
‘I thought he wanted to be him.’
‘Precisely. Envy is a strange beast, isn’t it?’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ he said primly and won another smile.
‘In any case, my father decided he would go even further south, to the pyramids of Nubia. There are dozens of them there, more even than in Egypt.’
‘There is also an ongoing war, as best I can gather. Hardly the best place to take one’s family.’
‘That was why I...why Dash and I decided not to go with him.’
‘I see. And how did he react to that?’
‘He was...upset. He is accustomed to us tending to the practicalities of his life. But he had his servant with him. At least he did until Farouq also decided he had had enough and returned to Cairo where he went to work for Boucheron, my father’s employer. By this time Dash and I had already decided it was time to leave Egypt. We’d been talking for a long while that we no longer wished to live like...fugitives. We planned to return to England and set up house and write articles and perhaps Dash could find employment at a university or a newspaper. We began making arrangements and sent a letter to our father to inform him.’
‘Let me guess, he wrote back denouncing his ungrateful offspring.’
‘No. He never wrote back at all. I told Dash that was an answer in itself as we should leave, but Dash is far nicer that I. He decided he could not leave without speaking with my father directly.’
‘Leaving you alone in Cairo?’
She scuffed her boot on the pebble-strewn ground. The sun had sunk lower still and the hills and scrubby trees were casting long shadows, like fingers straining to envelop them. He could feel the struggle inside her.
‘Tell me, Cleo-Pat.’
‘It’s all so complicated. I don’t know if there is anything to tell. Dash tells me I am absurdly suspicious by nature.’
‘I am glad to hear that. Here is your chance to unburden those suspicions to someone who has plenty of experience in that field.’
‘Very well. A couple days before Dash left for Nubia, Boucheron came to our lodgings and told us our father stole something from him before his departure. He demanded we find my father and force him to return.’
‘I thought you said your father spent several months in Nubia? If he stole something before he left, why didn’t this Boucheron demand it’s return earlier?’
‘Precisely. I presumed Boucheron only realised my father’s transgression because Farouq revealed something when he went to work for him.’
‘Strange. Did he not tell you what it was?’
‘No. When he realised we had no idea what he was speaking of, he merely said our father would know and that when we found him we should tell him that, unless he complied, Boucheron’s Janissaries would resolve the issue. I knew what that meant. He’d once sent one of his servants to “resolve an issue” with a Maltese merchant. We never saw the merchant again.’
It wasn’t calm, but iron control that held her voice flat. Probably years and years of expecting the worst. Rafe’s hands tightened on his thighs but he didn’t speak, just waited, and after a moment she continued.
‘I decided right then that enough was enough. Boucheron might just as easily decide to kill one of us to make his point and I wanted Dash out of there.’
‘Why didn’t you offer him the emerald?’
‘I did. He tossed it back at me. It seems no one wants it.’
‘Interesting.’
‘I thought so, too. I told Dash we needed to leave immediately and at first I thought he would agree—we even made travel arrangements—but then he disappeared to Nubia and left me a letter telling me he’d arranged for me to travel with a family returning to London on the same ship who were willing to provide me with lodging until he arrived.’
‘Since you’re here I presume that plan fell through.’
‘I could not leave Egypt not knowing what had happened to Dash. Besides, the Mitchums were extremely proper and quite shocked with me. I think they were pleased I reneged on my brother’s plan.’
‘I can imagine. So, tell me what you discovered in Nubia and how those fellows, whom I assume are Boucheron’s men, came to be chasing you?’
‘It is complicated...’
‘I have gathered that. Since we have nothing better to do at the moment you have plenty of time. Tell me.’
She sighed. ‘Very well. When I reached Meroe I discovered my father had died and that Dash had been and already left to return to Cairo. But when I reached Wadi Halfa an innkeeper warned me a man called al-Mizan was looking for a young foreigner matching my description. Clearly he was searching for Dash. We are very alike.’
‘I’m impressed the innkeeper didn’t hand you over. You must have some hitherto undiscovered ability to charm.’
The dimples punctuated her cheeks, but her voice remained dispassionate.
‘That was when my dragoman left me, so apparently my charm has its limits. I managed to remain hidden until Syene but when I tried to hire a felucca the owner ran off to find al-Mizan so I went back into hiding. I thought the longer I led them astray, the more time Dash would have to reach Cairo and then leave for London.’
‘Wait. Why would he leave for London if you hadn’t?’
Her shoulders rose and fell on a long sigh.
‘Because I left a letter saying I had left for London as agreed. If something happened to me on the way to Nubia, I did not want Dash searching for me.’
Rafe shook his head, but he understood sibling loyalty. The only reason he was presently sitting on a boulder in the middle of the desert, with aches in places he hadn’t even known existed, was because of his brother.
But what the devil was he going to do with her? Simply conveying her to Cairo was no longer a viable solution.
They sat in silence for a while, watching the last glimmerings of the sun as it melted behind the hills. A pleasant breeze began to stir the dusty green bushes and cooled his face.
‘So what shall we do next?’ she asked, interrupting his musings.
‘Go to sleep.’
‘You know perfectly well what I meant, Mr Grey. Should we not go and try to slip into Daraw under cover of darkness?’
‘No. Arriving in a new city in the dark draws attention.’
‘I would have thought the opposite.’
‘Foreigners entering a new town will always be remarked and Birdie and I doubly so. We are safest hiding in plain sight. A foreigner and his Bedawi guide will draw attention, but hopefully not suspicion. Tomorrow you and Birdie will remain here while Gamal and I have a look about Daraw and if it is safe we will hire a boat and then sneak you on board. So there. What say you to that brilliant reasoning, Master Pat?’
‘I say your superior reasoning is not matched by superior mathematical skills. There will be a foreigner and two local guides. Birdie can remain to watch the camp.’
‘I didn’t miscount. Two guides would be suspicious. You will remain here with Birdie.’
‘Two is no more suspicious than one.’
‘You will remain here with Birdie. If anyone is watching the port, they might see through your disguise as easily as I did.’
‘So you do think there might be trouble.’
‘I always think there will be trouble. It protects me from being either surprised or disappointed.’
‘True, but it is an awfully wearying way to live.’
> She sounded like someone who spoke from long experience.
‘Your father has a great deal to answer for,’ he said in a burst of annoyance and she smiled with surprising lightness.
‘He was not all bad. People rarely are. Surely there is something you remember fondly about your own father?’
‘Not a thing. He wasn’t a sweet old thing like yours.’
‘Well, at least my father had some sense of duty; he could have abandoned us when we were dropped on his doorstep, but he didn’t.’
‘Good God, Pat, that’s no measure of a father’s worth.’
‘True. Perhaps I feel guilty I never truly liked him. Is that terrible of me?’
‘Terribly honest. I never met the fellow and I’m not very fond of him myself.’
She laughed.
‘You are very flippant for a mercenary.’
‘We are a surprisingly flippant breed.’
‘That is not what one would expect.’
‘Have you ever met any?’
‘Only some of Boucheron’s Janissaries. I think their senses of humour were beaten out of them at birth, poor souls. Are there others like you?’
‘I’m afraid to ask what “like you” entails to your mind, other than flippancy.’
She considered him, brushing aside a tangle of hair the wind had blown over her brow. Despite her masculine attire and haircut, he was finding it very hard to believe anyone could possibly be fooled by her masquerade.
‘I don’t know,’ she said at last. ‘You are not at all what I would have expected.’
‘Another ambiguous statement. You are very skilled at those, Cleo-Pat.’
‘I shall be even more ambiguous, then. I am glad you are not what I would have expected. Thank you for coming to my aid.’
With the sun hidden it was already pleasantly cool, but he flushed as swiftly and as absurdly as a boy. For a moment his mind went peculiarly bright and blank, like stepping from darkness into a well-lit room. He searched for something to say. Something flippant and safe.
The breeze was rising and it flicked the edge of her cloth scarf against her cheek and she brushed it away, unwinding it from her neck.
