"Thank you for that,” Susan replied, reaching out to touch Laihla's shoulder in thankful acknowledgment. “Coming to see if we need anything is the act of a true friend, especially with the anger the other women are showing toward us.” She sighed. “I am not certain what will happen, but I believe whatever it is will be soon.” She gave a worried glance over to where Merri lay, sleeping deeply, having finally succumbed to flat out exhaustion.
"When Merri came back from her meeting with the Sultan, she refused to say anything other than that she had taken care of everything, but needed to be alone for a while.” Susan turned troubled eyes to Laihla. “I am sorely afraid of the bargain she may have been forced to make to safeguard us."
"It remains her decision, whatever it may be,” Laihla warned in her stilted English. “It would not be right to minimize her accomplishment by undermining her determination."
"I know,” Susan admitted unhappily. “She needs to do this. For some reason, she has become convinced that she is responsible for us being here and must somehow make amends. Regardless of how I try to convince her otherwise, she clings stubbornly to her beliefs."
"We have spoken, her and me,” Laihla said. “There is much that might support her belief in this matter."
"You will not convince me that Merri is the cause for our being here.” Susan said, her hands curling into fists at her side.
Laihla placed her hands over the tight balls, gently stroking them into peace. “But think ... the Emir comes to Turkey. The Emir is much in love with Merri. The Sultan commands that women be brought to ease the Emir's desire for his own kind, and voila. Merri is here.” The Black woman's look was slightly sardonic. “Now, even here in the ‘curtained world', we know such coincidences do not just happen."
Susan shook her head in disbelief. “You are saying the Prince had Merri kidnapped."
"I am saying no such thing. I am saying the Sultan knew of Merri, and had her brought here as a pawn in a game he is playing."
Looking thoughtful, Susan said, “Merri thinks the Prince was instrumental in having her brought here. This is what is really behind her anger and disillusionment. She will never admit her true feeling for him as long as she believes him capable of so callously manipulating other's lives."
Laihla nodded sagely. “You have seen this, also. Sismsiyah gül has much love for the Emir, yet she buries it in a mountain of hate. If left to fester, this hate will eventually twist her into a shape that will destroy her, for her heart is too loving. She will grow to hate herself."
"We cannot allow that to happen.” Susan exclaimed. “Yet, she will not listen to me. Every time I try to start a conversation about the Duke, she cuts me off. There is so much pain in her eyes; I cannot bear to continue pressing her.” Susan's pale features tightened as she confided, “At night, I can hear her crying into the covers when she thinks me asleep. Such heartbroken sobs. I feel her agony, and I hate knowing there is nothing she will allow me to do to help ease her suffering."
"Then we must help her in spite of herself,” Laihla decided.
Susan looked up hopefully. “Do you know of something?” she asked, teetering wildly between optimism and despair. “I would do anything to help her."
"But of course you would.” Laihla patted Susan's arm, smiling. “Not all journeys end quicker by traveling the straight line. One of the first things we learn in the harem is how to take the circuitous route. First, let me check something..."
In her excitement, Laihla lost control of her meager English, and Susan, grown fluent over the months and intent on her words and lively gestures, moved closer to her, never noticing when the beautiful Black concubine switched to her native language. “...then yarin gelip beni görünüz aksam!"
Chapter Forty-two
Dearest Mum,
I have just recently returned from a hunting trip in the mountains of central Turkey to find your letter waiting for me. Having now read the contents, I can imagine how you must have worried when you did not receive a response from me. I do not know if what I have to impart will totally allay your fears for the young woman, however, I will not attempt to evade your concerns regarding the missing heiress: Yes, Merridyth is here, along with her cousin, the Lady Susan Fellowes. Also, you were right to doubt Selim's good intentions. He had her brought here for some nefarious purpose of his own, though he now claims he did not know of her significance to me until he returned to your early letters and read of her again. Do you know he keeps all your letters? The angriest I have ever seen him was when I was grousing on about you ... He pulled me up short, I must say, and I certainly deserved it. But I regress. I rejoice to inform you I have every intention of making Merridyth my bride ... as soon as I can get her to look upon me favorably. I know you will not fathom it, but she holds me in great dislike at the moment. Somehow, she has gotten the mistaken idea that I was instrumental in bringing her to these shores, and is steadfast in her refusal to hear my numerous attempts to inform her otherwise. Believe me, Mother, it is too involved to go into right now. Circumstances continue to conspire against us, and I have not yet had the opportunity to sit down with her and quietly explain the past ... and my present intentions. However, I have cause to think the time is fast approaching. Wish me luck, Mum. I will need it if I am to gain as wife, the daughter-in-law you seem to have set your heart upon. Meanwhile, observe me the ever-dutiful son ... closing with the sentiments you have demanded.—Love, Wyndmere
Chapter Forty-three
Take care! If Selim has declared you the “Prince of Promise” even temporarily, you will need to watch your back and your food. The most common way to remove a rival is through poison. Trust me ... I know what I am talking about. You can have no idea how rabid some of the women of the harem can be—How dedicated to their own agendas! I have been behind the veil in the curtained world, and it is a frightening place to live. Any woman you take to yourself will also be in danger. I remember one wife to the old sultan. God, she was a fierce baggage; spouted lines and stanzas from the Koran as if she had written it, herself. She was a great one for the ‘right and proper’ thing. Her son should be next in line for the throne. I tell you this: If she feels his position is threatened by your existence, she will turn murderous! Do not make it necessary for me come to Turkey to claim your body—Mum
Grand Seraglio, Harem complex
Istanbul, Turkey
Three days had passed since Merri's audience with the Sultan. Three days since Susan and Laihla had met to discuss a strategy aimed at getting a willing Merridyth into Prince Jamal's bed. Laihla's plan was brash, daring, and sneaky. It was a risky one, involving drugging an unsuspecting Merri with a mild opiate that would lower her inhibitions. Under the drug's influence, she could respond to the Prince's amorous attentions with her true, inmost feelings.
Susan had not been one hundred percent in agreement with it, yet felt she had no choice but to go along with it, since she remained unable to come up with anything better. When she'd left Laihla's room, she carried a small packet of white powder with her.
Three days had passed, and each day the summons did not come was another day Susan watched Merri fret and worry over her ability to follow through on her promise. Each day weighed on Susan's uneasy conscious, weakening her resolve.
Now, on the fourth day, Susan stood half-concealed, watching the pompous Sueliman exit the harem. She decided she did not like the arrogant, pretentious eunuch and sighed, glad to see his back. Now she worried over how Merridyth would respond to the information the eunuch had delivered to the Mistress of the House: Tonight—two hours after the evening meal—his master, the Emir of Promise, would deign to receive Simsiyah Gül in his private quarters.
The harem bustled with frantic activity! Usually, things settled down after the evening meal, but this night, industrious servants engaged in frantic preparations surrounding a silent Merri, who stood stoically divorced from the excitement.
Her hair, brushed ‘til it gleamed darkly, rippled freely down he
r back under a sheer veil; a proud sign of her virginity. Her face was delicately made up to enhance her dusky beauty, her hands and feet stained with henna for good luck, her pulse-points touched with an alluring scent; a gift from the Emir, who had requested she wear it on this special night.
The women of the harem oohed and aahed, thinking it all highly romantic. One envious girl, casting Merri a fulminating look said with bitter emphasis, “Untrained and unshaven! What a waste! If it were I who had been lucky enough to catch the eye of the future Sultan, I'd certainly know what to do about it—"
She was shushed by the other women who—though they harbored many of the same thoughts—were too frightened of the power that would one day be Merri's to speak out.
"Bu is istemez olecak. The summons was past time, and you know it.” Susan repeated the truth again, determined to make Merri admit these events were inevitable. She'd had three more days than expected ... especially after her harrowing interview with the Sultan. Indeed, they'd all been expecting some such summons for the last four days, The gossip-vine was humming about how vocal the Sultan's son had been in his impatient desire for Merridyth.
"I admit I've had more time than I'd first believed possible, still, I find myself unready for this—” Merri's hand swept the air in a vague gesture indicating the industrious movements of the numerous servant girls assigned to assist her. She glanced about her, taking in the envious looks of the other women, and sighed. “If they but knew ... I would change places with any one of them at this moment!"
About ready to conclude her cousin had no intention of answering her, Susan relaxed and hugged Merridyth. “Brace up! After all, you have been in love with this man for over two long years!"
"I was in love with a dream.” Merri evaded the hands of the hairdresser to pace in agitated strides, never taking note of how the little woman chased after her, clicking her teeth, and muttering over the “wrong-headedness” of certain foreigners. “I could never love some Eastern prince so puffed up with his own glory, he cannot see the perverseness of his actions!"
Susan gazed at her cousin. “Then love Jared Tyson, love the Duke of Wyndmere."
"Can't you see? I cannot bear to think of him as Jared or the Duke. Logically, I know there is no reason to expect him to behave properly, as an English Lord should even in these strange circumstances, yet I find myself disappointed that he has not. And with that disappointment has come the realization that I cannot give myself to a man I do not respect. Not even for Seana, though the memory of finding her hanging from the bathing-room ceiling is still a subject of my nightmares."
"Then what shall we do?"
"I don't know, Susan. I am of half a mind to back out of the deal I've struck with the Sultan. Every time I contemplate that course of action, terror of how the Sultan will react—I've witnessed his violent, unreasoning rage—wins out. Susan—?"
Susan searched Merri's face, a frown of concern beetling her own brow. “Yes, what is it?"
"I cannot do it!” The words came on a gasping inhalation of breath.
"It is too late to come to this conclusion now. Have you any idea what would occur?"
"I cannot go to ... him ... like this—so cold and matter-of-factly!” Merri began to shake. “It is against everything we have been taught ... everything I believe in! Susan, what am I going to do?” Her voice rose as hysteria gripped her, stripping away her usual self-control.
"Oh, Merri,” Susan sighed, taking the taller girl's hands in hers, “you are having an attack of vapors.” She rubbed briskly to bring warmth back to Merri's clammy skin. “It is only normal. In fact, I thought something like this might hap—"
"Vapors!” Merridyth snapped. “I am no mawkish girl to have vapors, Sue! This is more like an attack of sense.” She jerked her hands away from Susan's frantic ministrations, wringing them together as she jumped up and resumed pacing.
"I cannot just cold-bloodedly give myself to a man who has absolutely no respect or regard for me,” she cried, desperate to make her cousin understand. She slammed to a halt, her abrupt standstill causing three women to pile up behind her. She closed her eyes on a wave of despair. “How could I have even imagined doing such a thing?"
"Desperation leads us into many strange paths,” Susan said quietly. Recapturing her cousin's hands, she firmly drew her to a seat by the pool, demanding she sit and listen. “In a moment, I am going to take you back to our cubby and fix you a soothing drink,” she said, speaking of the private room the Sultan had ordered for the three women. “First, I want you to calm down, and make sure you have thought this course through! Take a deep breath. That's right. Now, let it out slowly ... slow-w-ly. Good! And again!” Susan smiled, encouraging her cousin.
"I want you to know whatever you choose to do, I will stand behind your decision,” she said, in between coaching Merridyth's breathing.
Merri nodded. “You are so good to me, Susan. I love you."
"I love you too, silly. Now don't attempt to speak, just concentrate on calming your racing heart."
"All right,” Merri murmured.
Susan bent and helped the panicked girl gain her feet. “I do not want you to upset yourself. Just think about getting through this one moment, one step at a time. We'll just get you that drink..."
In their room, Susan prepared the drink, adding the powders Laihla had supplied, hoping with all her heart she was doing the right thing. Feeling like a Judas, she handed the warm drug-laced tea to her cousin.
Merri tasted the heavily sweetened contents of the dainty tea cup. She wrinkled her nose. “What is in this drink? It's bitter."
Susan's heart quailed. Did Merri detect something, suspect anything? “It is just an herbal drink I received from Laihla,” she said honestly. “She gave it to me days ago. You know how nervous and agitated I've been lately?"
Merri nodded, taking another cautious sip.
"S-she promised me it was a—a ... soothing remedy."
"It tastes fine, I suppose,” Merri took a bigger swallow, “though you were a little heavy-handed with the cloves."
Merri suspected nothing! Susan breathed an inward sigh, feeling horribly guilty, though she knew herself to be working in Merri's best interest. Three different sentences; three true statements—comprising the only lie she had ever told her cousin. She was frequently nervous, never more so than now, as she stood silently observing Merri down the disguised opiate. The drink was “the-hair-of-the-dog-that-bit-them” a soothing remedy used by many of the harem women. A mild opiate, it was used to relieve the common-place headaches and nausea that plagued one after indulging in the purer, more potent form of the drug. In one who did not habitually partake, it caused a mild euphoria, a pleasant sense of freedom—by Laihla's report, at least—enough to get Merri over the deeply ingrained inhibitions that were manifesting themselves in this present panic attack. For the thousandth time, Susan prayed she had done the right thing. Whether right or wrong, the deed was done. There was no going back.
Merri finished her drink and set the cup down on the low table before her. “I must remember to thank Laihla,” she said gratefully. “I feel ever so much better!"
"I am glad of that.” Susan wasn't sure how quickly the drug was supposed to work, but Merri did not look all that relaxed to her. Laihla had said there was enough powder for two drinks, so she'd used half the packet. She thought it too soon to judge, and even in the face of non-results, she was uncertain about the wisdom of dosing Merri twice.
"Oh, I still intend to tell that pompous Duke where to shove off,” Merri continued, her spine curving fluidly into the pillows of the couch she was reclining on.
"What about the Sultan's anger, should you decry now?” Susan asked, horrified to hear Merri still clinging to her plans of refusing the Prince.
Merri looked puzzled for a moment, then brightened. “I shall simply tell him I have changed my mind. I am sure he will understand. And if he does not ... piffle on him!” Merri flipped a pert hand at the absent ruler.
“He blows like a bag of wind."
"An important, powerful bag of wind,” Susan cautioned, fascinated at how the drug was already loosening her straight-laced cousin's demeanor.
"A fart!” Merri chuckled. “I say, Susan, do you see? If he blows like a bag of powerful wind ... he's nothing but a big old fart!"
"Merri, such language—!” Susan had never heard her cousin use such low-bred words.
Merridyth sobered, shocked at her own words. Her hands crept up to cover her mouth, as if she were afraid of what else would emerge. A second later she giggled. “Balderalol and hogwash!” She chortled “I might as well say what I will. After all, who in the Ton is here to be shocked? You?” She trained laughing eyes on her stunned cousin.
"I ... I ... uhm...!” Susan could not get a coherent answer past her shock.
"I thought not!” Merri sang out triumphantly. Then she leaned closer to Susan, minutely inspecting her face. “Did you know your eyes are very green?” She whispered, “My brother Raymond has marbles just like that. He calls them cat's eyes!"
"M—m—marbles...?"
Something was dreadfully wrong. Bemused, Susan watched the wild contracting of her relative's eyes, terrified at her cousin's escalating behavior. Laihla had said nothing about Merridyth responding in this bizarre manner. She was supposed to drink the tea, and in five to ten minutes, be very calm and relaxed, but still rational.
Merri was anything but calm. Her face was flushed, her eyes feverish and her words tripping over each other. Frightened she might have over-medicated Merri, Susan decided she'd better get some answers from Laihla.
"Uhm ... why don't you lie down and take a little rest,” she suggested, “while I go see about getting Laihla to come help us plan what you wish to say to the Prince?"
"Good idea, cuz!” Merri enthused, jumping up from the couch, whipping about the room and touching everything that caught her attention. “I haven't slept a wink for the last two days,” she confided. “I've been too bothered with lust for that handsome Devil—though I still refuse to bed him in such a business-like fashion!” she finished in plaintive tone, abruptly flopping back onto the couch. “Just imagine! He has not even courted me properly. I am afraid he will just have to—” she broke off.
Feathers in the Wind: The Cygnets Page 24
