by Beth Elliot
‘This is marvellous,’ he rumbled and was rewarded with a beaming smile that kindled a slow fire inside him.
‘Are you sure?’ She looked doubtful. ‘Do you really think these sketches are good enough to show to His Majesty?’
‘Indeed they are,’ said Tom warmly. ‘I should think he will be delighted with them.’
He watched as she drew in a deep breath of relief. Now she had forgotten to be so buttoned up, she was showing her natural liveliness, just as he remembered. He started to smile at her then checked himself sternly. Stick to business!
‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘did anyone see you drawing these?’
She shook her head. ‘No, nobody. I sat on the balcony to work on them,’ she waved a hand up to their top floor rooms. ‘there is nobody above us and I did them while everyone was taking their siesta.’ She laughed, ‘They think I am painting the view of the sea. And I have kept the book with me at all times since I finished.’
He nodded. ‘That is good. But now it is absolutely vital for you to stay safely inside the house.’
Slowly Rose raised her chin and gave him a frosty look. ‘Have you been talking to Kerim Pasha?’
‘I said good morning to him…’ Tom raised an eyebrow. ‘How does that fit in with what I am saying?’
She shrugged. ‘He was furious with his sister because she took us to the Covered Bazaar after we made the permitted visit to a family cousin – so we could see the soldiers without making it too obvious,’ she added.
Tom’s dark eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘Aha! What woman could ever resist shopping? Gave your guards the slip, did you?’ The amusement faded. ‘You know they will have had a flogging for that?’
Rose whipped a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, no! How dreadful. But why? We merely went to see the shops.’ She tapped her lip with one finger thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps we were in there a long time but it was fascinating – an absolute warren full of shops selling every kind of merchandise. There were silks, carpets, spices, jewellery, and such beautiful, decorated pottery as well as perfumes.’
Tom shook his head. ‘You simply do not understand, do you? All the stallholders in that Bazaar will have noticed that you and your sister are Europeans and you’re the guests of Kerim Pasha and his sister. No doubt they all report back to people who like to know what’s going on behind the scenes.’
Rose frowned at him. ‘What a grand fuss you men are making. Kerim Pasha says I could have been kidnapped and now you imply spies are watching us.’ She folded her hands together tightly in her lap and looked away.
‘Well, he’s right about that. With your colouring...’ Tom trailed off, allowing himself to examine her creamy skin and wheat coloured hair once more. ‘Suppose they had kidnapped you?’ He leaned forward, catching the fragrance of scented soap and jasmine. No doubt it was perfume from that shopping expedition!
She turned back towards him, her face indignant. Tom stabbed his forefinger against the sketchbook. ‘There are powerful Turkish officers of the old guard who will do murder rather than accept these changes. That puts you all at risk –and I mean everyone in this household.’ He saw her expression alter as the realisation sank in. Tom nodded. ‘They would burn the house down if they thought you were involved in changing their traditional way of life. So you understand you must avoid attracting attention in any way.’
Rose drew in a deep breath. Her cheeks seemed paler than before. But Tom still had more to add. ‘What’s more, the French know there’s a scheme afoot. They want to get the contract just as much as the English do. Just think how valuable it will be – not to mention that Napoleon wants to extend his influence in this part of the world. He could cut off the British overland trade routes to the East.’ He sat back and leaned one elbow on the lattice rail. He sighed. ‘We are deep in international affairs here. So make sure you keep safe, Rose.’
‘I am not Rose to you, sir,’ she flashed, jumping up.
‘Mrs Charteris,’ snarled Tom. He unfolded his long legs and stood.
They were glaring at each other now. An amused voice said, ‘It seems it was a very tiresome task, to have such an effect.’ Kerim Pasha was close by, watching them.
Rose turned away, her nose in the air. ‘Really, I do not need all this advice. As if I had not spent the last six months in Cairo and managed to look after myself very well.’
‘Maybe so. But, my dear Mrs Charteris, please remember that while you are my guest, I hold myself totally responsible for your safety.’ Kerim Pasha smiled at Rose. The man’s voice was a caress. Tom looked from one to the other sharply. There was something more behind the words. Had the man fallen for Rose? Worse still, had she fallen for him? His face darkened.
Rose looked at Kerim Pasha for a moment before she turned to give Tom a brief nod. She swept away, her turquoise robe streaming out behind her.
Kerim Pasha laughed softly. ‘I like to see a woman with spirit. She is not intimidated by our advice. But, my friend, I give you my word I will keep her safe.’
‘Thank you,’ ground out Tom after a thunderous pause. Then, remembering his mission, he said, ‘The pictures are all here and all satisfactory. In fact, they are damned good.’
His host stepped out into the sunlight, keeping well away from him. ‘Put them inside your jacket. When you get into the salon, exchange them for the book on the table by the ceramic vases as you walk past. Whatever you do, keep walking at the same pace. Do not stop. And make sure that the book can be seen under your jacket.’ He clenched his jaw. ‘Let us trust that there are no spies in my house.’
His tone sent a shiver down Tom’s back. He waved for Tom to precede him. ‘Please continue your daily visits,’ he said softly as they walked along the path. ‘We must not do anything to arouse suspicion. Ah…’ he paused as they reached the salon entrance, ‘I also hope you make the return journey to the embassy without incident.’
The Ambassador was waiting to know if the last part of the army plan had now been safely handed over to Kerim Pasha. Tom was on his way back to the embassy but he did not feel ready to deal with all the discussions and reports just yet. He turned into his favourite coffee shop. Perhaps a cup or two of strong coffee would buck him up. Now his part of the job was done but had he done it well enough to convince the Sultan?
He found he did not care. His head was full of Rose, her smile, the sweet scent of her and the sound of her voice, low and musical. He closed his eyes and put a hand to his forehead. Along with thoughts of Rose was the raging jealousy towards Kerim Pasha. Tom saw again the way the man’s eyes glowed as he looked at her. Not to mention the honeyed tone of his voice when he assured her she was safe in his home. Tom ground his teeth.
Chapter Twelve
It was with very mixed feelings that Rose climbed the three flights of stairs back to her room. She had almost treated Tom like a friend again and that was a mistake. Thank heavens Kerim Pasha had appeared, to remind her that she was simply doing a job and also that she must maintain her dignity. How could she even start to feel anything for either of them? Her hard-won freedom was more precious to her than any man’s affection.
However, as the day went past, her usual occupations could not hold her attention. Memories of the time when she had been so close to Tom kept forcing themselves into her mind. She quelled them by talking with Aunt Emily, who was getting anxious to hear some news about their menfolk in Egypt. Helena became unusually quiet and slipped away. Rose did her best to reassure her aunt. That forced the idea back into her mind that the French really were hostile to an English presence anywhere in the eastern Mediterranean.
When Aunt Emily at last picked up her notebook and pencil, Rose followed Helena out onto the balcony. She found her sister leaning against the railing, with her head down on her arms. Rose definitely heard a sniff. She made a slight noise and at once Helena jerked upright, rubbing her hand against one cheek.
‘The heat is oppressive, especially up here under the roof,’ said Rose. ‘Do you think we could
get Aunt Emily down to the garden? That little summerhouse is wonderfully cool but nobody ever goes there.’
‘Other than you and Mr Hawkesleigh,’ said Helena, still keeping her face turned away. ‘Such a pretty spot for your plotting.’
‘Plotting?’ flashed Rose. ‘If that is what you think, you can go down each day to report on our situation for the Ambassador. But oh no! You are too busy with your hieroglyphs.’
‘Girls!’ Lady Westacote called from inside, ‘No squabbling, please.’ She came out onto the balcony. ‘It is true that we have been cooped up here for quite some time. I think it would be a good idea to enjoy the fresh air in the garden. Such a pretty garden, too.’ She took off her spectacles. ‘Well, come along, my dears. We are suitably attired for an oriental garden, are we not?’
Her mild joke restored the sisters to good humour. They giggled as they made their way downstairs, trailing scarves and muslin robes. Lady Westacote, indomitable as always, walked down without any stops.
‘I am nearly back to my old self now,’ she assured Rose, who kept urging her to pause and rest on each landing. ‘And I am very well rewarded for the effort,’ she exclaimed as they made their way along the path to the little white kiosk. ‘What a delightful garden. And the greenery makes it so much cooler down here.’ She climbed the two steps into the kiosk and sat down on the cushioned bench. She held up her hand in reply to a questioning look from Rose. ‘No, my dear, I assure you, I feel very well. It will take no more than a moment for me to be rested.’
Helena walked round the kiosk before joining them. ‘It is so perfect for secret meetings.’ She glanced at Rose teasingly.
‘Perfect for private conversations,’ corrected Rose, feeling a spurt of annoyance. Helena had sensed there was a mystery and Rose had more than enough to cope with without further aggravation. Helena’s eyes narrowed but before she could say any more, Aunt Emily interrupted.
‘This is very pleasant,’ she announced, struggling to her feet. ‘I simply must see all these sweet smelling blooms.’ Rose hastened to help her down the steps and went with her on a short tour of the garden.
It was not very long before Fatma and a couple of other serving girls appeared with a tray of lemonade and small biscuits. Then Latife came to enquire if they were comfortable. She sat down and drank a glass of lemonade with them. It was a most agreeable spot to spend a hot afternoon. They were all comfortably settled when a serving boy ran up and knelt in front of Latife and whispered urgently. She replied and he ran off.
‘It seems we must leave you ladies alone for now,’ Latife rose as she spoke and adjusted her gauzy veil. ‘Such a pity, I do long to meet your friends from the Embassy but we ladies must keep to our customs and retire when strange men come to call.’ She beckoned to the serving girls and swept them away towards the side of the house.
‘Mr Hawkesleigh is here again?’ exclaimed Rose, suddenly alarmed. ‘Oh… I wonder -’ She broke off in confusion. Surely there was nothing wrong with her drawings? Tom had been so enthusiastic when he looked at them. She saw Helena and her aunt exchange a glance and hastily smoothed her expression, turning to see who was coming out through the salon door.
Sebastian Welland appeared first, his face breaking into a delighted smile when he saw Helena. He bowed politely to Lady Westacote and expressed his pleasure at seeing her looking so much better.
‘I am quite well now, thanks to our clever hostess. Her medicine is miraculous. It is from the bark of a South American tree, I understand.’ She saw Tom standing at the entrance to the kiosk. ‘Ah, Mr… Hawkesleigh, is it not?’ Her tone was frigid.
Tom’s bow was perfection. ‘Delighted to see you in better health, your La’ship.’ He straightened up and brushed back his unruly hair. He looked hopefully at Lady Westacote, who gave him a gimlet stare in return.
Rose stifled a giggle. Tom was doing his best to apologise but her aunt was not ready to forgive his initial lack of welcome.
‘Ladies,’ Sebastian cleared his throat. ‘We come with good news. A British frigate has arrived with dispatches from London. It will set sail on the return journey in three days’ time and the captain has agreed to give you passage.’
He beamed at them all. His smile faded when he saw no signs of joy.
‘You have been most active on our behalf, sir,’ said Lady Westacote slowly, ‘but I did not think to leave before getting some news of my husband and the rest of our friends in Egypt.’
‘As to that, I believe there could be news any day now,’ put in Tom. ‘But even if there is no message, you can be sure that the Turkish commander in Cairo will protect your husband’s expedition with his life. They will embark for England as soon as they can. Maybe they are already on their way.’
‘I will think about the matter.’ said Lady Westacote.
‘Are you quite certain we cannot return to Cairo?’ asked Helena, turning huge, anxious eyes from Tom to Sebastian, who at once looked desperate to grant her request.
For the second time that afternoon, Rose felt angry with her sister. Helena was only concerned to be with Max. And Aunt Emily was nodding her head in agreement. As usual, it was going to be her job to convince them that they could not afford to lose this chance to go home.
‘Have you forgotten how we had to flee our house in Cairo?’ she reminded them. ‘It’s not safe to go back there.’
‘Oh, but the British consul will have returned by this time,’ protested Helena, batting the objection away with a wave of her hand.
Rose frowned at her. ‘Our aunt is not fully recovered yet. She could not cope with the tremendous heat of summer in Egypt.’ She turned to the two men, noticing the look of astonishment on Sebastian Welland’s face and the grim amusement on Tom’s.
‘We must seem the most ungrateful wretches,’ she said, ‘not to be thrilled at an offer of a passage home. But you do understand, do you not,’ she looked in appeal at Sebastian, ‘it’s hard to travel further away from our menfolk, while we don’t know if they are safe and well.’
Reluctantly, Sebastian nodded.
‘Perhaps you will be good enough to inform us of your decision tomorrow,’ said Tom drily. ‘Come, Seb, we must not incommode the ladies any longer.’
Lady Westacote waited for the two tall figures to disappear inside before she spoke. ‘I would much prefer to return to Cairo and find Philip myself.’ Her voice trembled.
‘It was always our plan to return to England before the heat of summer, was it not?’ objected Rose. ‘I feel sure that Uncle Philip and the rest will stick to that. When they find us gone, they will make haste to embark as well.’
‘But suppose he has taken the fever,’ sniffed her aunt.
‘Uncle Philip is a seasoned explorer. He can cope with a fever. It’s not as if he is alone. And we cannot trespass on the hospitality of these kind people forever.’
Rose left the other two to digest that idea while she prowled around the garden to calm down. Sometimes she despaired at their lack of common sense. Aunt Emily was still weak and her spirits easily upset. It would not be easy to persuade her to sail for England while she feared that Uncle Philip was in any kind of danger. As far as Rose knew, this was the first time they had been apart since their marriage.
And it was plain that Helena had developed a strong attachment to Max Kendal. Well, that was not surprising. He was just as interested in ancient civilisations as she was and a handsome fellow to boot! It would be another love match, just like her uncle and aunt. But for the present, it was going to make it even harder for her to convince them they must take this chance to go home.
She was determined to accept this passage to England. Every day in this house was full of temptation. Every day it was harder to remember her vow to remain independent. Tom’s visits were becoming a welcome highlight. But she must not let him back into her heart.
Pacing towards the high boundary wall, she could just get a glimpse of the sea and beyond that, across the Golden Horn, the hills crowned by gr
aceful minarets. Rose drew in a deep breath. However kind everyone was to them, there were too many risks involved in remaining any longer. They were disrupting the household, even if it was unknowingly. She winced again at the aftermath of their shopping expedition. And in addition, it was obvious Kerim Pasha was more than a little interested in her as a woman. It was time to leave.
Chapter Thirteen
The following morning dawned and they had still not taken a decision. Rose knew that she would soon have to meet with Tom. She had to give him a definite answer but Lady Westacote still clung to her wish to have news of her husband before she would consent to leave.
Hoping that Tom would have some major argument that would take the decision out of her hands, Rose went slowly out to their usual meeting place. Rather to her surprise, she found Kerim Pasha in the garden. He was beaming at her as she walked towards the kiosk. He came close, eyes sparkling, took her hand and kissed it.
Rose had never seen him so demonstrative – except on the occasion he had lost his temper. A little wary, she smiled back, her brows lifting in an unspoken question.
‘Mrs Rose, I have some news for you – a lot of news, actually.’
She nodded. Really, he was like a boy this morning.
‘First, my thanks for the sketches you drew. They are very clear and illustrate the report well.’
She nodded again. ‘I’m glad if I was of help.’
His white teeth flashed in a quick smile. ‘It was invaluable. Now, there is something even more important to tell you.’
Rose clapped her hands together, suddenly guessing. ‘You have had news of my uncle?’
He beamed at her. ‘They have left Cairo safely. They are returning to Portsmouth on a ship of the line.’
