Under Wraps

by Patricia Green

  "Horses?" Esther sat forward on the seat.

  "Right." Raymond glanced toward Hamilton Cage who shrank into the corner and was staring out the window, then back to an expectant Esther. "You know what a stallion is, hm?"

  "Of course. A male horse."

  "Correct. And you know what a gelding is, don't you?"

  "Yes, yes," Esther agreed. "A stallion that's been, well... altered." Raymond nodded, his face full of encouragement. His sister's face flushed as she suddenly saw where the conversation was leading. "Oh! Oh! You don't mean that those Turks are... Have been..." She snapped her fan open and plied it with bee's wing intensity. "Oh!"

  Hamilton groaned and covered his face with his hands.

  Esther frowned at him. "Well, I didn't know! Don't be such a... a prude, Hamilton." She turned to Glee. "Is that why they're chosen to guard and care for the women? Because they're, er, safe?"

  Glee nodded. "Exactly. They are the only men allowed in the Sultan's harem except for the Sultan himself. And he only rarely visits."

  "Then exactly how did his sons see you?" Esther’s lip curled as she sneered.

  "The women share a communal bathing chamber called a hamam. Uncle Martin had arrived and, though it was my usual practice to wait for most of the women to leave the hamam before bathing, I was anxious to be ready to leave as soon as I could. As it happens, there is a cutout panel between the hamam and the corridor that leads to the Sultan's private chambers. The Sultan's third son, Hammud, was allowed to view the women through this secret hole so that he might choose a kadin, a woman, to be his birthday gift."

  "God! And all I ever get is handkerchiefs and watch fobs,” Raymond complained with a grin.

  "You really are a barbarian, Raymond." Esther whacked his arm with her fan.

  "Was this a normal practice, Miss Montrose?" Hamilton asked, interested despite the impropriety of the subject.

  Glee nodded. "One way the Sultan has of, well, culling his large harem is to give the women as gifts."

  Esther shivered. "How horrible!"

  "I thought so at first, too. But actually, most of the women didn't seem to mind."

  "How very curious," Hamilton remarked.

  "Yes. Until I realized that only about a dozen were the Sultan's favorites. Women he, er," she looked toward Esther who listened with terrified fascination, "courts, with any regularity along with his four wives."

  "Ah," Raymond said softly. "And the rest languish away. Forever the bridesmaid and never the bride."

  Glee smiled at his metaphor. "Something like that."

  "I'd think they'd be relieved to be left alone," Esther said. "Wouldn't that be better?"

  "You have to realize, Esther," Glee explained as gently as she could. "These women are trained from the moment they set foot in the harem to serve only one purpose. There are special instructors who spend hours with new women, telling them all about the Sultan, his family, his interests, his likes and dislikes. They are given books to study. They're washed and oiled every day, given a new name. Even their clothing is tailored toward the goal of catching the Sultan's eye."

  "Did they do that to you, too, Glee? Did you have a new name?" Esther asked, no malice in the question, only a kind of eager interest in a forbidden subject.

  "They tried," Glee answered, her face going pink despite her resolve not to be embarrassed by the truth. "I observed many of these training sessions, and I did have a personal eunuch, Erdogan. I admit I was pampered and extravagantly groomed, but for me it was all a kind of game. I knew I would never have to make that fateful trip down the pink corridor, the hallway between the harem and the Sultan's bedchamber."

  Raymond's eyes flashed. "I see you in a new light, cuz."

  "I hope not," she murmured, hoping that Raymond's sharp mind wasn't attributing more sophistication to her than was warranted.

  "But why, when he was given so many beautiful women to choose from, did the son, Hammud, choose you?" A small frown showed her insulting comment to be inadvertent—kind of thinking aloud.

  Glee pushed her spectacles up to their proper seat on her nose, not quite sure how to answer.

  Amina began gesturing, signing toward Esther.

  "What's she saying, Glee?" the young woman asked.

  Glee watched her black friend for a moment and then shook her head.

  Amina nodded furiously and repeated her gestures.

  "Confess, cuz," Raymond prodded. "If you don't, I swear I'll find paper somewhere and make your girl draw it out."

  Glee frowned and bit her lower lip. "You would, too, Raymond."

  "What's she saying?" insisted Esther.

  "She's answering your question. Why I was chosen over the other women."

  Hamilton Cage nodded. "And?"

  "She says, 'Tell them you were chosen because you were the most perfect of all the kadinlar.' The women. 'Tell them that Hammud recognized how special you are, how your long hair caught the sun that morning, how the water drops glistened on your skin, how your voice sang a sweet lullaby to the crying child of the Sultan's fourth wife.'" Glee felt unwelcome heat in her face, but Amina's hands dropped to her lap. "A terrible exaggeration," she said softly.

  Raymond peered at her with widening eyes. She saw Hamilton Cage's eyes narrow in her direction, and Esther's mouth hanging open like a codfish.

  Raymond laughed. "Of course it's true! You're just upset because you've been found out, cuz." He leaned forward and tilted Glee's chin up. "A rare jewel in a cheap and unflattering setting."

  "Stuff!" She pulled away from him. "I'm as plain as plain can be, don't let Amina tell you differently." She shot a lethal glance toward her maid but the woman simply looked away, her jaw clamped tightly. "All that poetry isn't why Hammud sought me anyway."

  Esther shook herself and seeing nothing but the dowdiness of her cousin's dress, the eccentricity of her hair covering and her dark round spectacles, agreed. "Of course not. But there must have been something. What was it?"

  "I'm sure I don't know," Glee stated flatly.

  "Liar," Raymond said on a chuckle.

  Amina's hands flew again and all eyes turned to Glee. A sigh, and then, "She says, 'Your father is dead. What are you hiding from?' Amina, that's really enough!"

  Raymond laughed again and pointed out the window. "Rogue's Hill. Here we are!"

  They struggled out of the coach, aided by Hakki who had ridden with the coachman; Erdogan had opted to stay at home. Raymond's hand shot out, holding her back as Glee moved to follow the others up the small rise to their picnic site.

  "Tell me, cuz. What are you hiding from?" He eyed the tall Turk who stood silently, arms crossed over his chest, perhaps ten feet behind his cousin.

  Raymond's turquoise stare was disconcerting, intense. Glee felt as though he could see beyond her spectacles, past her defenses. "What makes you think I'm hiding, Raymond?" They stood nearly eye-to-eye, a man of average height and a tall woman.

  "I remember another Glee. A little girl who had bright red hair and a grin that could light up a moonless night. Freckles on her nose. Before you moved to Spain with your mother and Uncle Eric you were such a skinny, gangly child." He plucked at the loose waist of her faded dove gray woolen gown. "I find it hard to believe that you might ever fill out this shapeless thing."

  Her head dropped a notch and then she looked up toward the rise, watching the rise and fall of the red- and white-checkered cloth where the picnic would be set. "I can't do it, Raymond."

  His voice was soft. "Do what?"

  "I can't go back to the Ottoman Empire to be given to Prince Akmed." She pressed a long-fingered, gray-gloved hand to his sleeve. "I know it may prove a hardship to Uncle Martin, to you, but I don't want to be a pawn in this absurd game."

  "A pawn. Throwaway pieces; also pieces that might decide the game." He shook his head.

  "I don't even want to play."

  "What are you going to do?"

  She eyed him carefully from behind dark spectacles. "Can you k
eep a secret?"

  He grinned. "For a price."

  "I'm serious, Raymond, and I really need your help." She squeezed his arm and his warm hand covered hers.

  His grin disappeared. "I'm serious too. I'll help you, for a price."

  She withdrew her hand quickly and frowned. "Not very chivalrous, Raymond."

  His smile returned as a slight upturning of lips and a twinkle of turquoise eyes. "I'm not known for being a gentleman, cuz."

  She couldn't help but smile. "No. No, you're not. What do you want?"

  He affected a very bored expression and waved his hand in an arch. "I am invited to attend a masked ball at the Soutraine Mansion on Friday next. Come with me as my little Turkish slave. We'll be the hit of the evening! Everyone will envy me and wonder who my mysterious companion is, and I will laugh myself silly."

  "Do you really know what you're asking? The costumes the women in the harem wore are skimpy, transparent things. If anyone were to recognize me I'd be the scandal of Boston!"

  "Have you got one?"

  She nodded reluctantly.

  "No one will recognize you, Glee. They'll think I've hired an actress, or perhaps brought my mistress to the event."

  "Oh, so much better!"

  "Come now, cuz! I've seen you soaking up disdain and snubs from the Boston misses. Wouldn't you like to give them a good case of vapors?"

  She bit her lip. "You know I would."

  "Then here's the perfect opportunity." He took her arm and turned to escort her up the hill. "So that's all settled. All you'll need is a good mask. A domino, I think, so as not to distract from your other features."

  "How do you know my features will be so commendable?"

  "Instinct, cuz." He grinned. "And a certain reliance on the expert opinion of a connoisseur of women." Her eyebrows lifted. "One Sultan of Constantinople, no less."

  She slapped his arm and tried not to smile. They were nearly at the top of the rise. "I expect payment up front, Raymond. A favor for a favor."

  "We'll take a walk after lunch and you can give me all the tedious details. But for now, just let me bask in the glory of anticipation, dear cuz."

  After a luncheon of cold roast beef, fancy cucumber sandwiches and apple tarts, she and Raymond excused themselves to take a walk through the meadow that lay at the bottom of the hill. Esther and Hamilton begged to come along, but a frown from Ulalie halted them long enough for Glee and her cousin to make their escape.

  Once they'd lost sight of the party, Glee pulled off her shoes and stockings and ran barefoot through the thick grass. Raymond paused to do the same and soon they were rolling down a gentle slope with childlike abandon, breathless and aching with laughter, they came to a halt facing a gray-blue sky.

  "Oh, Lord, Raymond," she said on a sigh, "I haven't had this much fun in years!"

  He sat up and took one of her bare feet in his hands, rubbing her cold toes, tickling. His fingers were gentle—those of a man who enjoyed women.

  "Erdogan uses oil," she murmured, enjoying her foot massage.

  "Oil?"

  "Yes. Spiced with myrrh and sometimes sandalwood or rose." Her eyes closed with hedonistic pleasure. "His oil rubs are positively decadent."

  Raymond picked up her other foot. "Well, I haven't any oil, cuz. But I could spit on them if you like."

  She withdrew her foot abruptly and he laughed at her shocked expression. "Oh! Beast!" she teased, pushing him over and rising to her knees.

  Raymond grabbed her ankles and pinned her into the fragrant carpet of green. Her turban was askew and a single, tiny, red-gold wisp escaped to lay on her cheek. He stilled, his gaze intent on her flushed face. "I'm beginning to wish quite fervently that you weren't my cousin," he said wryly.

  "But I am, Raymond." She struggled to a sitting position and readjusted her turban and spectacles.

  He sat back on his heels and plucked a blade of grass, chewing on it. "Fate, father of luck, shows his perversity again, my dear."

  She smiled. "How very like a male."

  Raymond's laughter lightened the moment. "Tell me now what you want me to do, cuz. Shall I sail to Constantinople and slay the dragon-lord in his lair? Or perhaps, hurry to Oxford and tell Akmed all the reasons why you can't possibly be his newest plaything?"

  Glee shook her head with a grin. "No, none of those, I'm afraid. I've something much more mundane in mind."

  "Don't bore me now, Glee! I was just becoming enamored of my role as noble savior."

  She laughed, then paused to admire a ladybug on her skirt. "I'm going to California, Raymond."

  "Don't tell me you've got gold-fever! I can just picture you now, skirts tucked into the waist of your dress, knee-deep in some rocky little stream, panning your days away, searching for elusive sparkles of precious metals."

  "Not exactly what I meant."

  He shook his head. "Too bad, you had nice legs."

  "Raymond! Will you be serious for a moment?"

  A sigh said he didn't really want to talk about her leaving Boston, but his voice was steady when he replied. "All right, cuz. What's in California for Glee Montrose?"

  "Papa bought a rancho there a few years ago. He planned to retire to it someday. It's near a town called Monterey, and not very far from San Francisco. I want to go there and complete the book he began in Constantinople." She held up a hand as she saw the beginning of Raymond's protests. "I know it seems a strange thing for a woman to want to live alone, but honestly, Raymond, I've been traveling around the world with Papa since Mama died when I was nine. I don't think I could ever be happy in one place, seeing the same faces year after year."

  His dark eyebrows rose and he tugged on his earlobe. "I see. So you plan to continue the gypsy life after you've completed Eric's novel. Traveling hither and yon. No home, no husband, no family. None of the simple comforts those things offer."

  "I've yet to meet a man I think I could bear so long, Raymond." She shook her head. "I don't think one exists for me." A small smile turned up her lips at the corners. "But I don't mind. I've had a few years to become use to the idea." It was a lie, and she knew it, deep within.

  Glee felt a tug at her heart, at that secret, hidden part of herself that still enjoyed looking beautiful in silks and bangles. The girl she buried beneath over-sized dresses, ugly scarves and dark glasses, ached for a moment to pull out the "princess" trunk of beautiful garments she saved for her most private times and longed to have a kindred spirit to share her joyful loveliness with in equal part with her clever mind. She hurt for someone who would cherish both halves of her, beauty and intellect, and accept the whole of her. But such a man did not exist. Even her father had rejected one part of her, her attractiveness, as other men rejected her mind.

  Raymond shook his head, but his eyes pinned her, making her shrink further behind her disguise. He knew her too well. "I think, my dear, that there are some parts of marital life you would enjoy. You do yourself a disservice to deny that part of you which enjoys Erdogan's oil rubs so much."

  She blushed and pushed her spectacles up her nose. "You may be right, but that is something I'll just have to live without. A sacrifice I'm willing to make to belong to myself and only myself."

  He snorted. "How I wish I could be there when you have to eat those words, dear cuz." Gentle fingers reached out to remove her dark glasses, and his eyes searched hers intently. "You will, you know."

  Glee made a moue. "My friend Nilüfer said nearly the exact same thing to me before I left Constantinople." She took her folded spectacles away from Raymond, though she did not replace them. "You are sensualists, both of you. I am not."

  Raymond's laughter caused her to stiffen, but he took her hand. "I'm sorry, Glee. But it is just such an absurdity coming from a girl who only minutes ago took off her shoes and stockings just to run her toes through the grass. A girl who admits to the pleasure of a simple massage, whose nose twitches with delight at the scent of late-blooming roses." His knowing look made Glee’s face heat. "You'
re not fooling me anymore, my girl. I know who you’re hiding from and why."

  "You don't know anything," she muttered angrily.

  He tilted her chin up and met her glare. "You can run to California, Glee. I'll help you if I can. But you can never hide from yourself. No matter how frightened you are by the very pleasant sensations of silk against your skin; by the shiver of anticipation you feel just before you sink into a hot, soapy bath; by the charged tickle of the length of your hair against your bare back, you cannot escape from the form God gave you. If I wasn't your cousin I'd show you just how perfect that form is, how ripe and magical those sensations can be."