Lady Emily's Exotic Journey

by Lillian Marek

  When she had heard Emily out, over a meal of mutton and rice, she chewed in silence for a moment, giving herself a chance to digest both the meal and the information. After considering both what had been said and what had not been said, she heaved a sigh. “You will allow me to explain all this to your father.”

  “Of course,” said Emily.

  Lady Penworth was not entirely happy.

  Lord Penworth was having an even more difficult time of it.

  When he finally managed to have a private word with his wife, the first thing he said was, “Chambertin wants to marry Emily.”

  “Yes,” his wife said. “Emily said as much.”

  “But…” He was having difficulty finding the right words. “I thought he was an adventurer. An intelligent adventurer and a pleasant enough fellow, but still, just someone who was passing through. And now he claims to be the heir of the Comte de la Boulaye. Says his name is really de Chambertin. He seemed rather offended that I expressed some doubts about that.”

  “Well,” said his wife, “he never precisely announced it, but one could surmise something of the sort. He was hardly diffident in his manner. He has the sort of arrogance that comes of being born to wealth and power.”

  He looked at her with more than a bit of annoyance. “You knew this?”

  “Well, not the precise title, of course,” she said with an air of surprise.

  “And may I ask how you happened to know this?” He sounded a trifle annoyed.

  “I asked Lady Bulwer, of course, while we were at the embassy. She is the sort of woman who would never allow a gentleman into her drawing room without being reasonably certain of his pedigree. We were about to set off on a lengthy and difficult journey, during which the young people would inevitably be thrown together. She assured me that the French ambassador’s wife had assured her that he was from an ancient and noble family.”

  He looked at her with disbelief. “Do you expect me to believe that you considered him suitable for our daughter because his grandfather was a French count?”

  “Of course not.” She made a face at him. “You know me better than that. Lady Bulwer knew nothing about his actual position, only that it was high enough to make him welcome at the French embassy, and you know how particular the French can be. I suppose it’s because since the Revolution there has been all that confusion, what with the émigrés and the restoration and the new titles. They must find it difficult to know who is who, so to speak.

  “I simply wished to be certain that, should things develop between them, he could support her. Emily can cope with all sorts of eventualities—including pirates, it seems—but I do not think she has any notion how to cope with penury. It is a skill I would prefer that she have no need to learn. I know the French aristocracy has lost most of its political power, but Lady Bulwer seemed to think he was quite well off. His evening clothes were quite good for a Frenchman. As for any possible failings of character, I consider Emily quite capable of discovering those for herself.”

  He sighed in resignation. “You might have told me. I felt rather a fool when Chambertin felt obliged to explain that he was not an adventurer. And he did appear, after all, to be a fairly competent one.”

  “I am sorry, my love.” Lady Penworth looked contrite. “It never occurred to me that you did not know. I was certain that Sir Henry would have told you.”

  “He doubtless would have, had he not been such a fool.”

  “There is that,” his wife conceded.

  “But I do not like it. He is not the sort of man I would have chosen for Emily. There is a dishonesty about all this playacting that I cannot approve, and I told him so.”

  “Playacting? Just because he did not trade on his family’s position?”

  “No, that isn’t the problem.” He frowned. “There seem to be problems that he left behind, problems that should be of concern to him. And rather than face them and deal with them, he ran away. That seems to me to be a failure of character.”

  “How did you leave things with him?”

  “I told him I would have to think about it.”

  Lady Penworth tilted her head and smiled approvingly. “Excellent. A bit of uncertainty will be good for both of them.”

  *

  The party returned to Mosul in apparent harmony but with some unease below the surface. While Lord Penworth was enormously relieved to have his daughter recovered safe and sound, he was not assured that her suitor was all that one could have wished. Chambertin may have been a scion of the French nobility, but his failure to present himself as such did not sit well. The marquess was accustomed to dealing with men he could not trust—the political world was full of them—but he did not want to give his daughter to such a man. Then also, there seemed to be a degree of selfishness in Lucien’s willingness to consider only his own convenience in ordering his life. If he objected to his grandfather’s treatment of people on his estate, why was he wandering about the globe instead of protecting them?

  Lady Penworth was fairly certain that her daughter had not been entirely forthcoming about what had transpired down river. On the other hand, she suspected that her daughter’s discretion was all to the good. Relations with one’s children were often easier when parents remained ignorant of facts it would be uncomfortable to know. But she did not like the notion that Lucien had acted in a way that made Emily’s discretion necessary. And she did not like to think that she might have relied overmuch on her daughter’s good sense.

  Emily was feeling frustrated by being cooped up in the carriage. For all its glittering decoration, it was not very comfortable and jolted badly over the roads, which were sadly maintained in any case. She would far rather have been riding with Lucien, in his arms as she had been yesterday. In addition, her father seemed concerned about something and her mother was distracted when they should have been happy and relieved to have her back. She did not know what was bothering them, which bothered her. Surely they could have no objection to Lucien. They had always seemed to like him. And since he was the grandson of a count rather than an adventurer, she did not see how there could be any objection.

  Lucien was churning with a mixture of insult and panic. It had never occurred to him that his suit might be unacceptable to Emily’s father. Had he inherited something of his grandfather’s pride and arrogance that made him assume he would be welcome? It bothered him to think this might be true. He had thought that by omitting any mention of his family, he was refusing to trade on his heritage, but Lord Penworth seemed to think he was making a mockery of those he met by pretending to be someone he was not. Resentment flared at that recollection. Never had he mocked his inferiors. Well, at least he had not done so very often. Only when they had been fools.

  Was it possible that Lord Penworth would refuse to let him marry Emily? That was unacceptable. He had to find a way to prove himself worthy to her parents.

  All these worries dwindled into insignificance as soon as they arrived at the house in Mosul.

  They were greeted by an utterly distraught Mr. Rassam. His large dark eyes brimmed with tears, and his fierce mustache had drooped into despair as he raced to the side of Lord Penworth.

  “My lord, my lord, I have not known what to do. There has been no word from Mr. Oliphant, no word at all!”

  After a startled moment, Lord Penworth swung down from his horse. “What do you mean, no word from him? Is he not here? He was to remain in case additional information about my daughter’s disappearance came in.”

  “But that, my lord, was before the other young lady disappeared.”

  “What do you mean, disappeared?” Lady Penworth had stuck her head out of the carriage and addressed Rassam. “And which young lady? Mademoiselle Carnac?” She added, in an undertone, “That would be no great loss.”

  “No, no, Mlle. Carnac is still present. It is the Lady Julia who is gone.”

  Lucien tried to push his way through the crowd of observers who filled the street. They had probably been drawn in the
first place by the carriage—a scarlet roof, gilded doors and embroidered curtains created a sight rarely seen in the narrow streets of Mosul. He had to pluck a pair of boys out of the way to enable him to get near the carriage and its passengers.

  If the carriage had drawn the crowd in the first place, the drama was keeping them here. It didn’t matter that few if any could understand what was being said. Eyes darted back and forth from Rassam’s dramatic gestures to Penworth’s horrified reaction to the carriage where Emily and her mother were trying to get out. Lucien struggled to get close enough to help them.

  The scene might have played itself out in public had an urchin not inserted himself between Rassam and Lord Penworth, staring up to observe their expressions.

  Lord Penworth looked down at the small intruder and, with an oath quite foreign to his usual courtesy, he seized the boy by the shoulder and moved him out of the way. Irmak and his troopers held back the crowd while Lucien and Lord Penworth ushered the women into the house. The door boy closed the door firmly on the disappointed crowd, but not before he saw the urchin’s father cuff his ear for spoiling the show for everyone.

  Once inside the room Lord Penworth used for an office, Rassam produced the hastily scribbled letter that Oliphant had left, outlining what he had learned about Julia’s kidnapping.

  “Slavers!” Lady Penworth clutched her husband’s arm. “Oh no, Phillip. No.”

  Lord Penworth had turned as pale as his wife, but made an effort to sound reassuring. “We will find her,” he said. But the words sounded hollow.

  Lucien cursed long and fluently in French. He felt sick. This was, at least in part, his fault. He was the one who had introduced Carnac and his daughter to the Penworths. To think that he had felt sorry for Mélisande. How had he failed to see what a viper she was?

  As if reading his mind, Emily said, “Where is Mélisande? She is the one who has caused all of this. Perhaps she knows something that will help us find Julia.”

  “I will bring her here, her and her father.” With a fierce scowl, Lucien was prepared to drag them bodily and indeed might have preferred some resistance. At a signal from Irmak, two of the troopers followed him.

  His mood had not improved by the time they burst into Carnac’s residence. The servants took one look and tried to scuttle out of the way, but Lucien caught hold of one. “Where is Mlle. Carnac?” he demanded.

  She was soon discovered, sitting in the inner courtyard. When she first saw that Lucien had come, she began to smile, but her look faded to panic when she saw his expression, to say nothing of the two troopers following him. “I didn’t do anything,” she said, her voice high and thin. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  He waved the Turks to seize her and turned to lead the way back. “Tell Carnac to come at once to Lord Penworth’s house,” he snapped at one of the servants peering at them from behind doorways. “I have no time to explain matters to him.”

  When they returned, they found Lord Penworth pacing back and forth in the courtyard, with Rassam trotting beside him. One man would begin a thought, then shake his head to discard it as useless. Then the other man would do the same. Lady Penworth was holding her daughter possessively, and Emily chewed her lip, as if frantically searching for some idea that would enable them to find Julia.

  Lucien pushed Mélisande forward, and she stumbled to a halt in front of Lady Penworth. “But I didn’t do anything,” the girl protested, sobbing. “I never did anything to Lady Julia.”

  Lady Penworth straightened up and seemed to grow taller. “You were there. You were seen. You saw what happened, and you did nothing to help.” Her voice was implacable. There was no taint of pity.

  “No!” Mélisande shook her head wildly. “I never meant anything to happen to Lady Julia. They weren’t supposed to take her.”

  “But they did take her,” said Emily. She stared at the girl incredulously. “You saw it happen, and you did nothing. You did not even tell anyone. Why? Julia was always a friend to you. Why did you not at least go for help?”

  “I was afraid. You would have blamed me. You already blamed me. I didn’t mean anything to happen to Lady Julia, but you would have said it was my fault.” She turned to clutch at Lucien’s arm. “Lucien, tell them I am innocent. It was not my fault.”

  “Of course it is your fault,” he snapped. “How can you deny it? Now you must tell us who those men are and where they will have taken her.”

  “How am I to know where they will take her?” Mélisande pushed away and glared at him. “They are stupid Arabs who work sometimes for my father. Very stupid. I tell them to take Lady Emily and make her disappear, and they take Lady Julia instead. It is all a mistake. They are so stupid.”

  It was all he could do to keep from throttling her. His hand was half raised to strike her before he caught himself. He might have done so if Emily had not stepped in front of him.

  “Make me disappear? But why? Why do you want to harm me?” Emily looked both confused and horrified.

  “It is all your fault.” Mélisande turned on her. “You are stealing Lucien from me. You must know that he is to marry me and take me to France. How else am I to escape this place?”

  “Marry you? Are you mad?” Lucien stepped back, aghast. “Whatever gave you that lunatic notion?” He turned to Emily. “I swear to you, never did I say to her a word to make her think such a thing.”

  Emily waved a hand dismissively. “Of course you didn’t. Good heavens, I am quite certain you do not go around seducing schoolgirls. But this little viper…” She advanced on Mélisande. “What did you tell them to do? What will they do to Julia?”

  “I don’t know! I don’t know! They do not tell me their plans.” Mélisande threw up her hands. “Why do you keep asking me?”

  Just then, Carnac arrived in a flurry, clothing tossed on carelessly and beard matted, to seize Lord Penworth by the lapels. “What is the matter? Has something happened to the shipment?”

  The marquess—and it was suddenly a marquess who stood there in full possession of his unquestionable power—looked down frostily and removed Carnac’s hands. “The shipment is of no importance. What matters now is that your daughter has caused Lady Julia to be kidnapped, possibly by slave traders. Every power at my command, every power at my government’s command, and every bit of knowledge at your command, is to be devoted to rescuing Lady Julia. Nothing else matters.”

  “Kidnapped? Lady Julia? What nonsense is this? Why would she want to do such a thing?” Carnac shook his shaggy head in disbelief.

  “Tell them I didn’t mean it, Papa. Tell them I never meant to harm Lady Julia.” Mélisande hung on her father’s arm, her face blotchy with tears.

  “You see,” Carnac began, recovering himself a bit. “My innocent daughter would not…”

  “Your daughter is anything but innocent.” Lucien took hold of Carnac’s shoulder and swung him around to glare fiercely at the old man. “Her plans misfired, and the fate she intended for Lady Emily befell Lady Julia instead.”

  “And you are to blame, you stupid little man,” said Lady Penworth, swinging him around in turn and shaking a finger in his face. “Had you paid any heed to your daughter, taken even the slightest care of her, none of this would have happened.”

  “Easy, my love, there will be time for that later.” Lord Penworth gathered his wife to him. “First we must find Julia.”

  “Oh, Phillip, what are we to do?” She looked up at him, her face crumpling.

  Still cold but now calm, Lord Penworth looked at Carnac. “Two men who sometimes work for you…” He picked up Oliphant’s letter and looked at it again. “Hadad and Karif. Where can we find them?”

  “Worked for me?”

  “On the excavation.” The thread of Lord Penworth’s patience was snapping.

  “Bah. How would I know? I do not know their names, these workmen. They are all useless fellows anyway.” Carnac shook his head dismissively.

  Lucien lost patience completely and seized the old m
an by the shoulders again, giving him a shake. “Think, you old fool. They have Lady Julia and we must find them. Where do they live?”

  Fear was beginning to dawn in Carnac’s face as the distress and anger of those about him finally registered. He licked his lips as if he realized they would not allow him to dissociate himself from the situation and glanced at the faces about him, all unfriendly. “I don’t know, I… Perhaps my headman would know.”

  “And he is where?” Lucien gave him another shake.

  Carnac winced. “Near the warehouse. He lives near the warehouse.”

  *

  They dragged Carnac along to the warehouse area, and eventually managed to locate the house of the headman. He was not at home—that would have been too easy, thought Lucien bitterly. Carnac was pulled along as they began a search of nearby coffee houses, not because he was wanted but because the others would not recognize the headman.

  When they finally located him in a nearby coffeehouse, he was cooperative. He was horrified to hear what had occurred and was willing, even eager, to be of assistance. It was only that—Hadad and Karif? Where did they live? He raised his hands in a helpless gesture. Perhaps here, perhaps there. Did they even have a home?

  Lucien would gladly have strangled the fellow, but that would hardly have helped. They trudged back to the house, having discarded Carnac somewhere along the way, and gathered with Irmak around a map, trying to decide on the most likely places to search.

  Of course, thought Lucien, David was not a fool. He would already have searched the most likely places, wouldn’t he? But would they all think of the same places? He closed his eyes and tried to think of something sensible to do. If he could not think of some useful action, could he at least think of something to say to Lady Penworth and Emily? They sat huddled in a corner of the courtyard, and he could almost see the cloud of worry around them.

  “Effendi, effendi! A message!” Little Yusef came running in.