"I do not doubt it for a minute. I have learned to know him also. Indeed, I may have to go, but not to Egypt. There is no reason why I should, you must see that. The best, the most sensible thing, would be for me to go back to France or to Tuscany—"
Almost before the words were out of her mouth she was regretting them, for a gleam had come into Lady Hester's eyes. Surely that passionate traveler was not going to offer to go with her, perhaps disguised as a man if need be and carrying a forged passport? Much as she liked the tall Englishwoman, Marianne found the prospect less than alluring, foreseeing it as an endless source of trouble of all kinds. But the light in the gray eyes vanished as swiftly as it had come, like a lamp snuffed out.
Hester rose in her turn, unfolding her long limbs and bringing her turban within an inch of the ceiling.
"If that Latour-Maubourg of yours had not pointed out all the innumerable diplomatic complications that could result from my being in France," she said with a sigh, "I would have made you take me with you and reveled in it. But it would be asking for trouble. Only think it over again, my sweet, and ask your friends' advice. In any event, I shall not be going for another three days yet. You still have time to change your mind and decide to spend the winter in the Egyptian sunshine. And now we had better go and find poor Meryon before his patience runs out. The poor boy can't bear to let me out of his sight for a moment."
But when they reached the quayside Dr. Meryon had disappeared, and Marianne, who had some reason for not sharing Lady Hester's belief in her all-powerful charm over the young physician, could not suppress the thought that he had made the best of his opportunity to escape. Perhaps he had gone to pay a farewell visit to the Kapodan Pasha's adorable wife?
One hour later, having left her friend to carry her disappointment back in solitude to her house at Bebek, Marianne was closeted with Jolival in the Morousi drawing room pouring out the tale of all that she had just learned.
Arcadius heard her out in silence, nibbling his mustache as was his habit when he was thinking deeply, but not seeming otherwise much perturbed.
"So there we are!" Marianne concluded. "At this moment, Canning's plan is to have me expelled from the country officially and unofficially to bundle me away like an unwanted parcel."
"I'd worry more about the unofficial side," Jolival said thoughtfully. "However cool his relations with Napoleon, the sultan is going to think twice before expelling a dear friend of his. I'm inclined to think that if you had his words correctly Canning has been overestimating himself a little there."
"What do you mean: 'if I had his words correctly'? Are you trying to say that Hester might have invented it?"
"Not everything, no—but some. What I find so surprising in the whole story is that she didn't come running here to warn you a week ago when this escapade of hers had only just taken place. That would have been the action of a friend. But instead she simply waited until she happened to meet you on the waterfront and then made haste to put you on your guard as soon as she saw that you were the possessor of a much larger and more comfortable vessel than any she could hope to find here to carry her to this eastern dream of hers. Once agree to take her to Egypt and she'll have you going right around the world."
"There's no question of my going around the world or even to Egypt." Then, struck by his reasoning, she added: "Do you really think she could have made it up?"
"That," Jolival said, "is what we have to find out. But whatever happens we had better speak to Prince Corrado before we decide anything at all. He is the prime cause of your being stuck here, as well as being your lawful husband, so it is for him to settle what is to be done. I'll send word to him at once and after that I'm going in search of a friend of mine who has the entree to the British embassy. He may be able to tell me how much truth there is in what Lady Hester told you."
"Jolival, do you really have English friends? You, of all people?" Marianne asked in surprise, knowing he had little love for the country where his wife had chosen to make her home.
"I have friends wherever necessary. But don't worry. This one is not English but Russian. He started life as a page to Catherine the Great and he has more friends in diplomatic circles than anyone I know."
Her friend's quiet good sense had done much to calm Marianne. She smiled at him over the piece of embroidery she had begun to occupy herself with during the long hours she spent resting on a sofa on the orders of Dr. Meryon, as he stood at the table and scribbled a few hurried lines.
"I see how it is. If your friend is as familiar with the insides of embassies as of gaming houses, he must be a mine of information."
Jolival shrugged, adjusted the set of his well-cut pearl-gray coat, picked up his hat and stick from a chair and, bending, dropped a light kiss on the top of Marianne's head.
"The trouble with you women," he said mildly, "is that you never appreciate how much we do for you. Now, just you stay here quietly until I come back and above all don't be at home to anyone. I shan't be long."
In fact he was back again in a remarkably short time but the happy confidence he had displayed on setting out had given way to a tension that was revealed in the heavy crease between his brows and the frequency with which he sought his snuff box. His mysterious and well-informed acquaintance had confirmed the acrimonious nature of that final interview between Lady Hester Stanhope and the British ambassador and also the fact of an imminent agreement between Canning and the sultan, but he knew nothing of British intentions toward the Princess Sant'Anna or whether her expulsion from Turkey was to form part of that agreement.
"There's no reason why it should not be true," Marianne cried. "If Canning is prepared to send packing a woman of Lady Hester's quality, and a niece of the late Lord Chatham also, why should he hesitate to deal with his country's enemy?"
"For one thing, he never threatened to send Lady Hester packing. According to Count Karazine, he merely told her she would do better to leave the city and not persist in making friends with 'those damned French.' Nothing more than that. And I'm inclined to believe he's right. Canning is too much the gentleman to talk of expulsion in connection with a lady."
"That only goes to prove that I am no lady in his eyes. Do you know, Jolival, he called me a 'pinchbeck princess!' "
"I can imagine that rankled with a daughter of the Marquis d'Asselnat but, as I said before, you mustn't overdramatize. As far as our friend is concerned, I'm quite sure of one thing. She'd rather leave the city of her own accord than wait for the results of the letter she wrote to Lord Wellesley in the first flush of her anger after her quarrel with Canning, making cruel fun of the ambassador. Read it for yourself."
Like a conjuror, Jolival suddenly produced a sheet of writing paper and held it out to Marianne. She took it automatically but with unconcealed amazement.
"But how do you come to have the letter?"
"Count Karazine again. He really is a most efficient fellow. This is only a copy, of course, and none too difficult to come by. Lady Hester was so angry that she could not resist the pleasure of reading her vindictive epistle to a few friends. Karazine was one of them and since he possesses an amazing memory… I must say, it's a remarkable document."
Marianne began to read the letter. The very first words made her smile.
"Mr. Canning," Hester had written, "is young and inexperienced, very zealous, but full of prejudice…" There followed a lively account of their differences and the masterly epistle ended: "In conclusion, I would entreat your lordship not to receive Mr. Canning with a mere stiff bow and a forbidding countenance or to permit the ladies to make fun of him. The best reward for all the services he has rendered would be to appoint him to be commander in chief and ambassador extraordinary to those peoples having the greatest need of the suppression of vice and the cultivation of patriotism: this last consisting in tying oneself in more knots than dervishes at the mere mention of the name of Bonaparte…"
Marianne laughed aloud.
"You shouldn't have shown me
this letter, Arcadius. It's done me so much good that for a little more I'd take Hester to Alexandria after all! If Canning ever gets to hear of this—"
"But he knows already and lies awake at nights thinking about it, you may be sure. He must be haunted by hideous visions of the red dispatch box going the rounds of the Foreign Office to the general delight."
"Well, the ambassador's sleepless nights won't help me, Jolival. Far from it," Marianne said, suddenly serious again. "If he holds me responsible for Hester's pranks it will only make him hate me more than ever. So the question remains. What am I to do?"
"Nothing for the present, I'm afraid. Wait and let your husband decide for you, because I honestly don't know what to advise."
The answer came that very evening in the person of Prince Corrado, who arrived a little before sunset while Marianne was taking a gentle stroll in the garden on Jolival's arm. The blue mosaic paths were covered now with fallen leaves that rustled with a dry, papery sound as the hem of her dress brushed over them.
Corrado bowed to Marianne with his habitual frigid politeness and then clasped Jolival's hand.
"I was at home when your letter was brought to me," he said, "and I came at once. What has happened?"
In a few words the vicomte outlined to him the gist of what had passed between Marianne and Lady Hester Stanhope and of his own subsequent investigations. Corrado listened attentively and it was soon clear to Marianne that he was not taking the matter lightly. By the time Jolival had finished, the crease between his brows was mirrored on the prince's face.
"Lady Hester may have been exaggerating a good deal," the vicomte said at the end, "but then again, she may not. We have no means of finding out and we don't know what to do for the best."
Corrado thought for a moment.
"Exaggerated or not, the threat remains," he said at last. "We are obliged to take it seriously because with a man like Canning there is never any smoke without a fire. There must be a fair amount of truth in what you have been told." He turned to Marianne. "What do you want to do?"
"I don't want to do anything, Prince, except keep out of trouble. I think it is for you to decide for me, for are you not—are you not my husband?"
It was the first time she had used that word to him and it seemed to her that the shadow of some emotion disturbed the calm of the fine, dark-skinned face. But it was only for an instant, like a fleeting ripple on the smooth surface of a pool. Corrado bowed.
"I am obliged to you for remembering it at such a time. I should like to think of it as a mark of confidence—"
"And so it is, believe me."
"You will agree to abide by my decision?"
"I am asking you to make the decision, because I don't know what I should do. I wondered," she went on a little timidly, "whether I ought not to leave Constantinople perhaps—and sail to the Morea—or to France."
"No purpose would be served by that," the prince returned evenly. "It would be dangerous as well because you would run the risk of meeting the English fleet and this time you would not find it easy to escape. What is more, Captain Beaufort may well have left Monemvasia by now, and you might easily pass one another at sea and not know it."
All of which was depressingly true. Marianne bent her head so that the prince should not see the disappointment written all too clearly on her face. All afternoon she had been hugging the thought of a voyage to Greece that would serve to reunite her with Jason all the sooner.
Jolival guessed at her feelings and it was he who asked the next question:
"What, then?"
"Remain in Constantinople, only not in this house, of course. An abduction from Phanar would be too easy."
"Then where shall we go?"
"To my house—at Bebek."
He turned back to Marianne and, without giving her time to utter a word, continued very quickly: "I'm sorry to force this on you. You cannot wish it and I had hoped to spare you the need to share my roof, but it is the only way. You might ask Princess Morousi to shelter you on her estates at Arnavut Koy, it is true. Indeed, it is quite close to Bebek. But that would not avert the danger. It is the first place they would look for you and if Mr. Canning really has obtained the sultan's help in this the English could turn for help to the garrison of Roumeli Hissar, which is nearby."
"But it's even nearer to Bebek," Jolival objected.
The prince gave him a slow smile and his white teeth gleamed. "Yes—but who would think of looking for the Princess Sant'Anna in the house of Turhan Bey, the rich African merchant who is honored with the sultan's friendship?"
The irony of his words was not without a hint of bitterness but Marianne was beginning to think that where the prince was concerned it was better to keep her imagination under control. It was impossible to guess what his real thoughts or feelings were. Dressed in the eastern clothes which surely became him more than European garments would have done, he was still the same as he had been on Jason's ship—a marvelous figure of stone, with a control that would not break even under the lash. He was one of those who would die without uttering a sound. What he was saying at that moment, however, was not without interest.
"If you accept my offer a Turkish woman will come here tomorrow, at some time during the morning, ostensibly with a message for your hostess. She will have a boatman with her. You will change clothes with her and, disguised in the veil and ferej, you will leave here. The perama which brought her will carry you to my house. You need not be alarmed. The house is a very large one—I owe it to the generosity of the sultan—and my presence there will not intrude on you at all. There will also be someone there to care for you whom I hope you will be glad to see—my own dear Lavinia."
"Donna Lavinia? Here?" Marianne cried, filled with a sudden happiness at the thought of the old housekeeper who had been such a comfort and support to her at the time of her strange marriage and whose advice had helped her so much during those trying days at the Villa dei Cavalli.
The shadow of a smile passed over the prince's face.
"I sent for her when you agreed to keep the child, for it is she, and no one else, who will naturally have charge of him. She has just arrived and I was going to bring her to you. She is very eager to see you again. I—I believe that she is very fond of you."
"I love her, too, and—"
But Corrado was not to be drawn onto such dangerously emotional terrain. Turning to the vicomte, he went on: "I hope that you, Monsieur de Jolival, will also honor me by accepting my hospitality?"
Arcadius's bow was the epitome of politeness.
"I shall be very happy to do so. For you must know, Prince, that I rarely leave the princess, who is pleased to consider me as something between a mentor and a favorite uncle."
"The part suits you to perfection, never fear. Unfortunately, you will be obliged to live as quietly as the princess herself because if Canning guesses that she would never have flown without you he is bound to have you followed as soon as you show your nose in the city. Happily, I can offer you the use of an excellent library, some very good cigars and a cellar I am sure will meet with your approval, to say nothing of a beautiful garden, well hidden from prying eyes."
"That will suit me very well," Jolival assured him. "I have always dreamed of retiring to a monastery. Yours sounds just right."
"Good. Then you will begin your retreat tomorrow evening. Your best way to Bebek will be to go to the French embassy while it is still daylight, as you sometimes do, for a game of chess with Monsieur de Latour-Maubourg. You are in the habit of staying the night there, because no boats are allowed to cross the Golden Horn after sunset except those belonging to the sultan."
"That's true."
"This time you will leave again after dark. I'll come for you myself at midnight. I'll be waiting in the street. You only have to make up some excuse. Say that you are spending the night with friends in Pera or something of the sort. The main thing is to have you out of Stamboul before curfew."
"One more detail—if
I may call Princess Morousi detail," Jolival said.
"Once you are both gone, she will make the biggest fuss she can—which is saying a good deal—lamenting your ingratitude in quitting her house in such cavalier fashion without taking the trouble even to inform her where you were going. No, don't worry, she will know all about it. In fact, she will be the only person besides myself and you to do so. I know that I can trust her absolutely."
"I'm quite sure of it," Marianne said. "But do you think Canning will be taken in by her outcry?"
"It doesn't matter whether he is or not. What does matter is that he does not know where you are. After a few days he is bound to think that you have taken fright and run away, and he will stop looking for you."
"I expect you are right. But there is still one thing to be thought of. What about the ship?"
"The Sea Witch! She will stay where she is until further developments. It was a mistake for the sultana to have our crest flown from the masthead. Very kind and thoughtful, certainly, but a mistake all the same. For tonight that flag must disappear. I'll replace it with the one flown by all my own ships."
"The one flown by your ships? Have you ships?"
"I told you I was known here as a rich merchant. In fact, that is precisely what I am. My ships fly a red pennant bearing a lion with a T-shaped torch in its paw. If you are willing for the brig to fly that flag, it will be thought in high places that you have sold her to me in order to obtain the money for your flight. And it will not stand in the way of Mr. Beaufort's recovering his property."
Marianne found herself at a loss for an answer. She was finding out that there was still a great deal she did not know about this amazing man whose name she bore. She had noticed a good many ships, xebecs and polaccas flying that curious flag with the flaming T on it in the harbor of Stamboul, but it had never occurred to her that they could belong to her husband. She began to think that it would be interesting to live for a time with such a man, quite apart from the promise of security it offered and the joy of finding Donna Lavinia again.
Marianne and the Lords of the East Page 11
