Tide of Fortune

by Jane Jackson

  ‘Do I have your permission to speak to the doctor?’ Nick said.

  ‘Yes, of course. But why?’

  ‘We need to know how much of the sleeping draught we can safely give your father to get him onto the ship and keep him there. Knowing the circumstances, I’m sure he’ll be willing to help.’

  Kerenza nodded. ‘Why didn’t he say anything? He had visited my mother. He must have noticed the condition Dulcie was in.’

  ‘I wondered about that. I suppose he kept quiet for the same reason the vice-consul did. Neither of them would have wanted to add to your father’s grief when he had just been told of your mother’s death. Can you imagine the effect this additional disaster would have had?’

  ‘No, you’re right.’

  ‘Broad will look after your father.’

  She sucked in a breath. ‘What are we to do about Dulcie?’

  ‘I’ve had an idea. You won’t have to tell her anything. At least, not until she’s safe on board the packet.’

  ‘But how –’

  ‘The prince will persuade her to go.’ Nick’s features were as hard as Cornish granite. ‘One more lie shouldn’t worry him.’ Kerenza winced at the bitter anger in his voice. ‘He put her – and us – in this mess. He can help get us out of it.’

  Her tongue snaked over dry lips. ‘Do you think he’ll agree?’

  Nick’s mouth twisted. ‘He wants all of us away from here before his father finds out what’s happened.’

  ‘When we get home –’

  ‘There’ll be time enough later to talk about that,’ Nick cut her short, releasing her hand and rising to his feet. ‘Right now we need to concentrate on getting your father onto the ship and your sister out of the palace.’

  Feeling her cheeks flush at the rebuff, she clasped her hands tightly in her lap and stared hard at them. Of course he didn’t want to talk about it. Because when Kestrel reached Falmouth he’d have accomplished everything he was supposed to on this voyage. The Woodrows and Judith had arrived safely in Gibraltar, the dispatches had been delivered to Admiral Howe, and though her mother had died, at least her father had his elder daughter back.

  Nick Penrose would, deservedly, be confirmed by the Post Office as commander of the packet Kestrel. Then he would go his own way.

  ‘Will you excuse me?’ He indicated the doorway. ‘I need to speak to Maggot.’

  She forced her lips into a smile. ‘Of course.’ He must have heard something in her voice because he hesitated and the crease between his dark brows deepened. Please, no explanations or pity. She couldn’t bear that. ‘Go ahead. I’m fine. Really. Ah, here’s Dina.’ She looked past him as the maid poked her head in, clearly wanting to know if she could prepare the table.

  When Nick didn’t join them, Kerenza and her father ate alone. This evening the food was presented to them in a fashion more familiar to them at home. They were each given a single plate – her father’s larger – containing a portion of rice with a golden butter crust, spiced chicken, bean and lentil salad, and mixed vegetables. But there was still no cutlery.

  Throughout the meal William complained – about the food, about having to eat with his fingers, the Governor’s rudeness, the heat and humidity, and the nerve-shredding effects of the wind – until Kerenza wanted to scream.

  Her attempts to empathise were brusquely rejected. How dare she suggest she understood? She was far too young to have any idea of suffering such as he had endured. Realising he was totally immersed in his own feelings and concerns, that no one else mattered at all, she stopped trying and remained silent.

  Forcing herself to eat, she wondered about Nick’s plan. The food stuck in her throat and lay heavy in her tense, aching stomach. But she knew without it she wouldn’t have the strength to face the next 24 hours, let alone the voyage back to Cornwall.

  When Dina brought in mint tea, signalling the end of the meal, Kerenza looked up and thanked her in her own language. The maid’s dark eyes narrowed as she bobbed her head, indicating that behind her face veil she was smiling.

  Glancing at her father, Kerenza saw him stifle a yawn. She realised suddenly that, for several minutes, she hadn’t heard a word he’d said. As he yawned again it occurred to her that she hadn’t heard him because he’d stopped talking and she had been so deep in her own thoughts she hadn’t noticed.

  ‘Some mint tea, Papa?’ Kerenza held the pot poised over a tiny glass.

  ‘I suppose so,’ he grunted, leaning back on the couch, eyelids heavy and drooping. ‘It does settle the stomach.’

  As she started to pour, his eyes closed, his mouth fell open, and he began to snore.

  She simply stared at him for a moment, then set the pot down with a clatter as the real reason for the two separate plates dawned on her. Her father’s food had contained a sleeping draught. Dina came in, her slippers soundless, glanced at William, and, before Kerenza could utter a word, she hurried out again. A moment later, Nick walked in, followed by Maggot and Broad.

  As Kerenza jumped to her feet, Nick took her arm and drew her to one side while Maggot and the steward heaved William off the couch.

  ‘Maggot has hired two men with a litter to carry your father to the beach. Once we’re safely away, Maggot will come back here. I’ll stay aboard Kestrel overnight. The ship will be ready to sail the moment your sister is free. Don’t worry about your father. Broad will keep an eye on him.’

  As Maggot and Broad half-carried William between them out of the room, Kerenza and Nick were left alone. She lowered her voice.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me what you planned?’

  ‘It was better you didn’t know.’

  It stung, but she had to admit he was right. Had she been aware of the plan, something in her manner might have aroused her father’s suspicions.

  ‘I’ll bring the money with me in the morning. Try to sleep. I know it won’t be easy, but tomorrow will be a long day. You’ll need all your strength.’

  She wanted to thank him for all he was doing, but bit the words back. I don’t want your gratitude. He had hurled the words at her like a curse. So she said nothing. Besides, her throat was so thick with tears she dared not trust her voice. Folding her hands, she simply dipped her head once, and tried to smile.

  For an instant, Nick was totally still. Then, with a sound that seemed torn from deep inside him, he took two strides forward, seized her shoulders, and covered her mouth with his. The kiss was demanding yet achingly tender. After a moment’s frozen shock her body quickened and she responded, leaning into him, her mouth softening under his. But with another soft groan, he wrenched free and, setting her aside, he walked out.

  Dazed, swaying, and totally confused, she raised trembling fingers to her lips, still tasting him, still feeling the pressure. Their first kiss. Why now? He had made no declaration of his feelings or intentions. Had they been in Flushing his action would have been considered an insult. What made it different here? Everything they had been through. All they still had to face to secure Dulcie’s freedom. She wanted so very much to believe it was heartfelt, that he truly cared about her.

  She knew he had no gift for pretty compliments or small talk. Nor was it easy for him to express his feelings. But was she fooling herself? This was the first time he had kissed her. Given what he now knew about her family and the problems she would face on their return to Cornwall, problems that were not his responsibility, had it also been the last?

  Chapter Nineteen

  After a night punctuated by vivid but elusive dreams interspersed with periods of restlessness when all her fears lined up to taunt, mock, and threaten, Kerenza was startled out of sleep by Dina’s knock.

  When the maid had gone downstairs again, she drank her coffee then threw back the covers and padded out onto the terrace. Shading her eyes from the low morning sun, she looked across the tiered houses to the sea, seeking Kestrel.

  She ran her fingertips lightly across her lips. Nick had kissed her. She had not flirted or invited it the w
ay she had seen some girls do. So he must have done it because he wanted to. That must surely mean he did care for her a little. She yearned to think beyond the next few hours, but resisted. She would need all her strength and her wits if she was to keep Dulcie entertained and unsuspecting.

  Washed, dressed, her hair swept up and pinned, she packed all her belongings. After a last look round she carried her bag – Judith’s gift – out onto the terrace, down the steps, and across the court.

  She breakfasted alone. Maggot was probably spending these last moments with his stepmother. After three years of believing him dead, Zohra would miss him dreadfully. Faintly in the background, Kerenza could hear distant voices and clattering dishes. She gazed around the room, imprinting it on her mind to store with her other treasured memories. Once back in Cornwall, she would find it easier to survive the difficult days – and inevitably there would be many – if she could escape by reliving happier moments.

  She heard Nick arrive and her heartbeat instantly quickened. Rising to her feet, she pressed cold fingers to her burning cheeks, and was smoothing the front of her gown as he walked in and set down the leather case. The money it contained would buy her sister’s freedom. But at what cost to her father and herself? The terrible irony was that Dulcie didn’t want her freedom.

  As Nick bowed over her hand, Kerenza inhaled the lemony scent of his soap. She had to fight a powerful urge to smooth back the thick, dark hair that curled on his neck and tumbled across his forehead, tousled by the wind during the trip ashore. Freshly shaved, he wore a clean neckcloth and his uniform coat had been brushed.

  Straightening up, he looked deep into her eyes. ‘All right?’ It sounded casual, almost careless. But Kerenza knew the question asked far more than was apparent. He needed reassurance that she would be able to do her part. She nodded.

  ‘Did you sleep?’

  A wry smile flickered across her lips as she answered honestly. ‘More than I expected, less than I would have liked.’

  He grimaced. ‘That makes two of us.’

  ‘How is my father?’

  ‘Fine. He had another dose of laudanum this morning with his breakfast and is sleeping again. With luck we won’t have to give him any more. You ready?’

  Swallowing, she nodded, and drew a deep breath. ‘What shall I do about my bag?’

  ‘Maggot’s just telling Dina to take it down to the beach. The jolly-boat will take it out to the packet.’

  Maggot walked in, and bowed to her. ‘Azou fl’ouen.’ As Kerenza blinked he grinned. ‘Sorry, I forget. Good morning.’

  Kerenza smiled back. ‘Good morning.’ Picking up her headscarf from the couch, she turned to Nick. ‘I won’t keep you, I just want to goodbye to Zohra.’ She turned to Maggot. ‘How do I say goodbye?’

  Maggot shook his head. ‘Is not easy.’

  ‘I know. She has been so kind. I shall miss her.’

  ‘No.’ Maggot waved his hands, intimating she had misunderstood. ‘Is not easy to say in Tamasirght. Is b’hka-alaghair.’

  ‘Good God!’ Nick murmured, pulling a droll face as Maggot coaxed and corrected Kerenza one syllable at a time.

  ‘Right, I think I’ve got it.’ She took a deep breath, repeating the phrase several times under her breath.

  ‘I fetch her,’ Maggot said, and disappeared.

  As Kerenza shook out the scarf, folded it into a triangle and covered her head, she saw Nick was watching her with an odd expression. Instantly self-conscious, she felt her colour rise. ‘What?’

  ‘You.’ One corner of his mouth lifted in a lop-sided smile, and his gaze held admiration. ‘The things you’ll try. My mother would call you remarkable.’

  Smiling, she dropped her glance, longing to ask what he would he call her. But that would be fishing. And her grandmother had always told her that a compliment sought was not worth having.

  Maggot returned with his stepmother. Seeing Zohra’s red-rimmed eyes, Kerenza felt a sharp pricking in her own. She walked forward, holding out her hand. ‘Ateikum saha, Zohra. B’hka-alaghair.’

  Her hand was ignored. Instead, Kerenza found herself seized in a hug, pressed to Zohra’s broad, soft bosom, and soundly kissed on both cheeks.

  Murmuring in her own language, Maggot’s stepmother stepped back, dabbing her eyes and waving them away as she bustled out of the salon.

  ‘She sad we go,’ Maggot said, his own eyes glistening as he stared after her. He threw a desperate look at Nick.

  ‘It’s time,’ Nick said, and picked up the leather case.

  The two men walked either side of Kerenza, except when the streets were too narrow, then they went ahead and she followed close behind.

  The hot wind was gusty, whirling dust and litter. The scarf covered Kerenza’s nose and mouth, but her eyes, with nothing to protect them, soon felt sore and gritty.

  When they reached the palace they were admitted at once.

  ‘What do I tell Dulcie?’ Kerenza whispered frantically.

  ‘Nothing.’ Nick was firm. ‘You don’t know anything. You have come to keep her company while negotiations over the ransom are completed. Ask her about her time here. If you can get her talking about herself all you will have to do is listen.’

  He saw her catch her lip as she gave an uncertain nod. He had asked for her trust, and she had given it. But even though she was trying hard to hide it, he could see her anxiety. Did he know what he was doing? By God, he hoped so.

  The female servant appeared and beckoned Kerenza to follow. He saw her look back and mouth “good luck” as she was led away. Then a male servant, dark-skinned and white-robed, wearing a white rimless cap guided him and Maggot to the same anteroom as before, and indicated they should sit.

  ‘Tell him to inform the prince we are here,’ Nick instructed Maggot. ‘Make it clear the prince asked to be told of our arrival.’ The servant bowed and left. After an hour, another servant appeared.

  ‘He say we must follow,’ Maggot explained. ‘He take us to Mulai Aruj.’

  In the prince’s luxuriously furnished apartments they waited for another hour. Then, without warning, and minus his usual retinue, Mulai Aruj appeared. Nick and Maggot stood. The prince seated himself opposite and motioned for them to sit again. Nick explained his plan, pausing frequently to allow Maggot time to translate. When he’d finished he waited, outwardly calm while his heart hammered painfully against his breastbone.

  The prince studied him. Nick forced himself to hold the man’s gaze. It was a battle of wills. They both knew Mulai Aruj was in a jam. They both knew he wanted rid of Dulcie with as little fuss and inconvenience as possible. And they both knew Nick’s plan offered a solution. But Nick was very aware that the prince resented being in a position of weakness. This made him very dangerous.

  When Mulai Aruj gave a terse nod indicating his agreement, Nick was careful to keep his face free of expression. Any hint of relief or triumph could sabotage the whole scheme.

  ‘You have brought money for Pasha Abd-er-Azzak Medja?’ Maggot translated. Nick showed him the bag. ‘I will take it to him.’ As he relayed the prince’s words Maggot’s face was as blank as a bare wall, but his eyes conveyed both anxiety and warning.

  Nick could feel drops of sweat sliding down his chest and sides soaking into his shirt. Even without translation, the imperious tone had made it clear this was a command.

  ‘It is a gracious offer, your Excellency. I regret I must decline. I am not acting for myself, but for Miss Vyvyan’s father. The governor requested the money be given directly into his hands. Mr Vyvyan gave his solemn oath to obey. Honour demands I do what Mr Vyvyan would himself have done.’

  ‘Where is Mr Vyvyan?’

  ‘He was taken ill last night and was carried to my ship.’ Nick knew it was likely the prince had spies watching everything that went on in Tangier, particularly anything concerning foreigners. No doubt he had already been informed, and had asked simply to see how Nick would respond.

  ‘So you are ready to sail?’<
br />
  ‘We will leave as soon as Miss Vyvyan and her sister are aboard.’

  As the prince stood up Nick and Maggot immediately did the same. ‘You will see the Pasha shortly.’

  Lying on her couch, Dulcie fiddled with the gold braid decorating the neckline and cuffs of her saffron-coloured kaftan. ‘We weren’t allowed to leave the castle grounds, but at least they let us walk in the gardens.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘I’m so bored.’

  ‘Shall we walk a little?’ Kerenza suggested.

  Dulcie shook her head. ‘No. I hate this wind. I feel sticky all the time.’

  Kerenza had followed Nick’s advice and had kept asking questions that encouraged Dulcie to talk about herself. The trouble was Dulcie had little positive to say about anything. Her answers were brief, her comments invariably critical.

  Kerenza tried again. ‘Is there a hammam in your apartments? Zohra, Maggot’s stepmother, took me to one near her house.’

  ‘What sort of a name is Maggot?’ Dulcie interrupted, pulling a face.

  ‘One easier to pronounce than his real name.’ Kerenza shrugged and smiled. ‘I really enjoyed the hammam once I got used it.’

  ‘The bathing was all right,’ Dulcie said grudgingly. ‘But after the first time I wouldn’t let them massage me. It hurt too much. I was afraid I’d have bruises, they were so rough and heavy-handed. And then they kept trying to pull my hair out.’

  Kerenza sat up. ‘What do you mean? The women set upon you?’

  ‘No.’ Dulcie was impatient. ‘I don’t mean handfuls. They just pulled out one hair at a time.’

  ‘Why?’ Kerenza asked, bewildered. ‘What was their reason?’

  ‘Aruj told me the Moors believe fair hair has baraka. It’s some kind of blessing or power that makes you able to heal the sick and protect against the evil eye.’

  ‘But – Surely after mama –’ Kerenza began, then quickly closed her mouth.

  ‘Yes, Mama died,’ Dulcie said with heavy patience. ‘I didn’t. I didn’t even get the fever. So they thought Mama must have done something to upset the jinoon, the evil spirits. Anyway, I let Aruj have some of my hair. He plaited it into a thin braid that he wears on his wrist. He says it makes him invincible.’ Her mouth curved briefly in a proud smile before drooping again. ‘Invisible, more like. I know he’s busy, but I wish he’d come and see me more often. It’s so boring having to stay in the palace. And the slaves are rude to me. Not that I can understand a word they say. But I can tell by their eyes.’