April and May

by Beth Elliot

  ‘But you are going to come back to Egypt with us?’ urged Helena, a note of anxiety in her voice.

  Rose nodded. ‘If it is a choice of Cairo or returning to live with Augusta, George and Papa, I have to say I prefer Cairo.’

  ‘That takes such a weight off my mind.’ Helena beamed. ‘Of course, it would be wonderful if you should find someone you really wished to marry. Then you could stay in London and go to concerts to your heart’s content. And I would accept that, although I should miss you dreadfully.’’

  Rose blinked rapidly. How Helena had softened in this last year. She looked up, making herself smile …and froze. Her attention had been caught by a man on a black horse. He was riding a large, raking animal and he had the best seat on horseback that she had ever seen. Man and horse moved as fluidly and elegantly as if they were one creature.

  ‘Oh!’ she said impulsively, ‘how I wish I could paint that. But I could never catch that grace.’

  Helena looked up. She shaded her eyes against the sun. ‘I think…’ she said, ‘no, I am certain that it is our Count Varoshenyi. And yes, he is magnificent on a horse. Woe betide him if the Benson sisters see him now.’

  The rider came closer, raised his hand in greeting and finally came up beside them. He raised his hat and smiled, his teeth white in his tanned face. His grey eyes gleamed.

  ‘I am very happy to see you again,’ said Kerim Pasha.

  His deep, rich voice sounded very comforting, especially at this moment. Helena’s news was not an unmixed joy for Rose. Her sister was inevitably going to be less close to her in future.

  ‘We were just admiring your prowess on a horse,’ said Helena.

  His brows rose. He looked from one to the other. ‘Do you ride?’

  ‘Of course. If we had not learnt, we would have been completely cut off. Our home was a long way from the nearest village.’ Helena laughed. ‘But in Egypt, we had to make do with donkeys.’

  He leaned forward. His eyes were on Rose. ‘Would you care to ride with me now?’

  She gasped. ‘I- er… we do not have any riding horses in Town.’

  ‘That is not what I asked.’ His tone was suddenly that of the great lord. ‘I can be at your uncle’s home within an hour, with a suitable mount for you. Both of you,’ he added, turning his head to acknowledge Helena.

  ‘Not I, I thank you,’ she said, ‘I am expecting a visitor shortly. But I am sure Rose would love to ride. It is a pleasure that does not often come her way.’

  He wheeled his horse around. ‘In one hour then.’

  ‘Now what have you done?’ said Rose, torn between embarrassment and the longing to ride. ‘And my riding habit is old – it is the one I had when I married Hugh.’

  Helena pulled her along the path back towards Piccadilly. ‘We must hurry then and see what we can do to make it smart.’

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Precisely one hour later Rose stood ready in the hall. She peeped in the pier glass at her reflection. The riding costume, fortunately, was of a severe cut and its dark grey twill showed no sign of wear. Her hat was a small pink bonnet with a turned back brim. Helena had dressed it up with a pink ostrich plume and a knot of ribbon. Rose worked her fingers into her leather gloves. She dropped her whip and bent to retrieve it. Her heart was beating uncomfortably fast. She was getting into deep waters.

  Her sister was pushing her at Kerim Pasha! Perhaps because she herself was in love, she wanted Rose to be in love also. Rose frowned. Any kind of relationship with this man was impossible but…it was also impossible to resist his charm. He made her forget how lonely her life was.

  There was a knock at the door. Rose caught her breath. She almost turned and fled but Hudson had appeared and seen her. He trod across the wide hall in his usual stately way and opened the door. Rose swallowed down a flurry of nerves. Hudson turned towards her. Slowly she walked forwards. Kerim Pasha’s tall figure was outlined against the light.

  ‘Delightful,’ he said, taking her hand. He gestured to where a groom stood holding the two horses. ‘I trust you will enjoy riding this fine lady.’

  The grey was indeed a beautiful, spirited mare. Rose looked at Kerim Pasha, her deep blue eyes shining. He nodded, satisfaction evident in his face. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I think she is worthy of you.’

  They rode back into the park and for a while simply let their horses have their heads. The quiet surroundings and the easy stride of her mount made Rose laugh out loud with pleasure. This was a rare treat indeed! After a while, however, Kerim Pasha slowed his pace to a walk.

  ‘I am enjoying this very much,’ Rose smiled at him. ‘You must have selected the very finest mount at the livery stables.’

  He shook his head. ‘Ah, if only we were on my country estate. There I have some truly magnificent horses. Do you hunt?’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘that was not possible.’

  He smiled. ‘It is one of my favourite pastimes – a swift horse, a fine hawk and the wide, rolling plains of Anatolia under a blue sky – but not as blue as your eyes, Rose.’

  She did not know how to reply to this. After a slight pause, she asked, ‘Are you making a long stay in town, Count?’

  He raised his brows.

  ‘I ask,’ she hurried on, ‘because I would like to send a little gift for your sister when you do return home.’

  ‘You are too kind,’ he said. ‘I will certainly call before I leave. I do not think it will be many more days now.’

  ‘Oh!’ She checked any other questions. His business was too delicate to be discussed. Here was yet another man whose life was spent in travelling. All the men in her life, except for her father and brother, were people whose work sent them far from their homes and lands. Even Hugh, her late husband, who had joined the Navy at the age of sixteen, had spent more time away from home than on dry land during the last ten years of his life.

  ‘Have you nothing to say?’ Kerim Pasha asked, after watching her with a strange little smile on his handsome face. ‘I did hope that you would feel sorry to lose my company.’

  She brought her thoughts back to the present. ‘Oh yes, I-I am very sorry. It has been delightful…b-but I know you have much work to deal with. And I always knew you could not stay here.’ She stared ahead, between her horse’s ears.

  She heard him heave a sigh. They proceeded for some minutes in this heavy silence, then, ‘Come, one last gallop,’ he said.

  She saw the flash of his white teeth, the gleam of his eyes and she kicked her horse to urge it alongside his.

  They raced along the tracks, fortunately meeting nobody this time. However hard she tried, Kerim Pasha always kept his horse just ahead. At the end of the circuit, Rose was laughing, her hair blowing in little tendrils around her face and her cheeks flushed with the speed of their ride.

  He gave her a long look. Finally, he raised his brows. ‘That is how I shall remember you. You are a lady of great spirit. Oh yes,’ he went on as she shook her head and murmured a protest, ‘I saw how you held your family together when you arrived in my city. What a pity that your role is so – so restricted in this society. You could have a much greater destiny.’

  Rose held her breath. What was he implying? Then there was a shout and another pair of riders came close and rode past, looking curiously at them.

  Kerim Pasha was still watching her. ‘You are very pensive all at once. Are you tired?’

  Rose forced a little laugh. ‘No, of course not. I could never be tired of riding this beautiful horse. I am most grateful to you.’

  ‘Do not be!’ His voice was harsh. ‘It is a such a little thing to do and the pleasure is all mine. I do not often have such agreeable company.’ His horse sensed the change of mood. Tossing his head, he broke into a canter. Rose urged her mount forward and they made one more circuit of the park in silence. As they approached the entrance gate again, Rose said reluctantly, ‘I think it is time for me to return home. I have to assist my aunt in her preparations for this evening’s lecture.
’

  He grinned. ‘She is a most determined woman. A lady totally devoted to work in her chosen field.’

  ‘But you prefer to work for the future,’ Rose reminded him with a smile.

  He threw up a hand. ‘You are right. It is my destiny to do this work.’ His eyes grew unfocused, as if he were seeing something terrible. Then he shook his head and gave her a smile again. ‘It is vital for my people. And I will never forget that you helped us.’

  ‘Did he…did the Sultan look at my sketches?’ she asked shyly.

  ‘Certainly. He studied them carefully.’

  Rose wished she could have seen the moment. She knew that people generally liked her drawings but they had never before been done for such an exalted personage. She felt a warm glow of achievement and gratitude towards this proud man beside her who had had faith in her ability. But she must also remember that it was thanks to Tom that she had been given the opportunity in the first place.

  Her lips quirked in a smile, thinking of Tom. What would he say if he could see her now. She led the way out of the park and across Piccadilly. They turned into Half Moon Street in silence, both invigorated by the fresh air and exercise. Outside her uncle’s house, Kerim Pasha dismounted with his usual fluid grace. He handed his reins to the waiting groom and came to Rose’s side.

  She felt the strength of his arms as he lifted her smoothly down and set her lightly on her feet. He did not release her immediately but stood looking at her with a fierce light in his eyes. She heard his sharp intake of breath.

  Then he took a step back and offered his arm, very correctly. She laid her fingers on it and felt the tension in him. As they crossed the pavement and he knocked on the door, she glanced at him from under her lashes. His face was impassive.

  Hudson opened the door wide and Kerim Pasha was bowing over her hand. He waved aside her thanks. Rose lingered in the doorway to watch him mount and ride away, looking every inch as though he belonged in the saddle. She continued to admire the sight until Hudson cleared his throat loudly.

  ‘The family is waiting for you in the study, ma’am,’ he announced in a tone of gloom.

  Rose opened her blue eyes wide. ‘Problems, Hudson?’

  He cast his eyes upwards. ‘You could say that.’ He trod over to the study door and opened it for her.

  ‘-and if you do that I shall not marry you!’ Helena’s words came clearly as Rose, casting Hudson a startled glance, walked into the room.

  Sir Philip was standing by the fire, his normally pleasant expression wiped away by a thunderous frown. Lady Westacote sat at her desk, pen in hand, looking utterly distracted. Max stood with his feet apart, hands on his hips. Helena whirled round and flung herself at Rose. She cast her arms round her sister’s neck.

  ‘I mean it!’ she said and burst into angry sobs against Rose’s shoulder.

  Automatically, Rose stroked her sister’s head, soothing her as she had done when they were children. The storm was soon over. Helena straightened up and dashed the tears away. The others had not moved.

  Rose looked round in bewilderment. ‘Whatever is wrong?’

  Her uncle’s mouth was a thin line and he merely shook his head. Aunt Emily shrugged as if to say that the matter was beyond her. Rose looked at Helena but she shook her head. The tears were still threatening.

  The memory of her delightful morning faded. As so often, she would have to deal with the situation. She fixed a calm gaze on Max. ‘Please can you enlighten me?’

  He shrugged his shoulders irritably and thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘I merely wished to do things properly. While Philip and Emily have been as parents to both of you, I feel it is proper to write to your father, informing him that Helena and I are getting married.’

  ‘I won’t have it,’ burst out Helena, ‘I could not bear them to make the kind of fuss they always do make. Augusta with her sour face and George calculating every penny of expense.’ She choked, ‘and after the way they treated Rose…refusing her an allowance when she was left widowed with no income of her own…they are not my family.’ She flung her arms round her sister again and choked back another sob.

  ‘Money is not an issue,’ said Max in clipped tones. ‘But you are going to be my wife and eventually, you will be a viscountess. I want everything to be done correctly for your sake.’

  ‘You are being very noble, dear Max,’ said Rose, ‘but let the matter rest for now.’ She glanced down at Helena’s tumbled hair. ‘Today should be a day of happiness for us all. I am so pleased that you have made up your minds at last.’ She looked at her uncle and mouthed, ‘Champagne?’

  He stared for a moment, then a smile replaced his tight lipped expression. He nodded and went to pull the bellrope.

  ‘While you organise that, Helena and I will retire for a few moments to tidy ourselves up.’

  She ruthlessly bundled Helena upstairs, and in a very short space of time had her changed into the new pink dress and her hair freshly pinned up. Rose then dragged her back downstairs again, even though her cheeks were still rather pink from the crying.

  ‘This is all nerves,’ whispered Rose as they reached the study door. ‘Poor Max deserves a rather better reaction to his proposal. If you are not careful, he will change his mind and offer for Clarissa Benson instead.’

  They both giggled and so entered the room smiling, to find the others seated and looking more at ease now. Hudson followed them in and served the champagne.

  ‘You have a glass as well, Hudson,’ said Sir Philip. ‘Demme, this is splendid. Our little Helena and my young friend, Max Kendal are making a match of it.’ He turned towards his wife and raised his glass to her. ‘This reminds me of old times, my dear.’

  She gave him a misty smile. ‘Oh, Philip!’ She sipped her champagne and added, ‘Now we must make our dinner party extra special.’

  ‘Yes, but pray let us keep it small,’ begged Helena, ‘just for our close friends.’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The champagne lightened the atmosphere. As they laughed and toasted each other, harmony was restored between the newly engaged young couple. Then during a rather merry lunch, there was the opportunity for discussing wedding plans and the prospect of a speedy return to Egypt.

  Rose was satisfied as she looked round at them all. It was wonderful to see them united by their common interests and their genuine affection for each other. For them, life was straightforward. But for herself, she had no more interest in ancient artefacts than Kerim Pasha did. At the thought of him, a brief smile lit her face. The others were still making plans and did not notice as she slipped away. In the room she shared with Helena she rummaged in a drawer for her sketchbook and charcoal sticks. Casting herself down on the window seat, she stared out at the racing clouds over the rooftops, conjuring up the image she wanted to draw.

  She was smiling at the finished picture when Helena burst into the room.

  ‘There you are,’ she said, ‘we’re waiting for you. Honestly, Rose, of all the times to start a new picture! Just look at your hands.’

  Rose shut the book hastily and put it away in the drawer. ‘Oh, of course,’ she mumbled. ‘With all the excitement. I had forgotten about going to Somerset House.’ Quickly she washed her hands and made ready. By the time they reached Somerset House, Rose was feeling worn out and irritable. This endless preoccupation with ancient Egypt was exhausting. But Helena was dancing along, so happy that Rose forced a smile. She was truly delighted that Max and Helena would make a match of it. So once more, Rose pushed her own problems to the back of her mind and listened to all Helena’s plans and agreed with her praise of Max.

  At Somerset House, in the room allotted to Lady Westacote for this afternoon’s talk, Rose was impressed to see yet another large audience, mainly of ladies. Helena whispered to her that Lady Benson was there with both her daughters.

  ‘Guard Max with your life!’ Rose whispered back with a mischievous grin.

  ‘I don’t need to,’ said Helena in a lo
fty tone. She glanced down the room again. ‘What puzzles me is the hostile way they are looking at you.’

  ‘They seem to be trying to freeze me.’ Rose whispered after a short interval of peeping at them discreetly. She shrugged. ‘Perhaps we are still in disgrace with them for not taking the Count to their dinner party.’ She moved towards the door. ‘This time, it’s my turn to slip away,’ she told Helena. ‘I am going to view the pictures in the main gallery. I shall not be long.’

  It was a rare opportunity to view the collection of pictures and Rose was determined to make the most of it. She wished she could stay longer in London and study the techniques of the portrait painters in more detail. But today there would only be time to take a general look around. If she could manage a second visit, she would concentrate on the paintings that most interested her. She thought of how once upon a time, she would have asked Tom to accompany her. They would have enjoyed the visit together, sharing opinions and jokes.

  Thinking of Tom was becoming a habit. She must break it, especially if he was to marry that silly girl…but Rose suddenly knew that she did not want Tom to marry anyone. The very idea turned her insides to ice. She gulped and resolutely fixed her gaze on a painting. But all she saw was the added difficulties that lay ahead. Life seemed to lurch from one problem to another. Of course she was happy for her sister but when Helena married, Rose foresaw that she was going to be the odd one out in their group. It was some time before she forced herself to concentrate on the paintings.

  The main gallery was hung from floor to ceiling with a variety of work; portraits, groups, landscapes, animal paintings. It was a feast for her eyes and she brightened as she moved from one painting to another, noting several that she would return to examine more fully. There was a second room and she turned into that. Here she spent more time on each picture, admiring the fine compositions and the skilful brushwork that produced such delicate effects in the skin tones and fine clothes of the newer portraits.