The Destiny Code: The Soldier and the Mystic (Daughters of the Empire Book 1)

by Suzette Hollingsworth

Oh, no! Not yet! As Alita returned to the present moment without warning, she longed never to return to her own life. She sought out the vision she had not wanted and now craved. But it was gone.

  Her mouth still watered from the smells even though she was far from hungry. She had never experienced more clarity or been more centered, and she yearned to stay in the trance.

  “Alita!” Her Grace exclaimed, her beloved grandmother’s voice sounding to Alita like a screech, jarring her calm. “Answer me, girl! Where shall we go?”

  “I am thinking, Grandmamma. Please give me a moment. There is much to consider.” The devastation Alita had only just experienced at the Queen’s Ball collided with the content of her trance.

  In an instant, she understood the meaning of her vision and why it had been given to her. She sorely wished otherwise, but she heard the command as clearly as if the order had been delivered by Queen Victoria herself.

  Alita Stanton had been untrue to her nature almost the entirety of her life.

  Granted, the one instance in which I was entirely faithful to my character, disaster ensued, she reminded herself bitterly.

  Nonetheless, she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she was being called to service, surprisingly, given her obvious ineptitude, a service only she could perform. A day which was supposed to be about her pleasure had turned into something far different.

  No! No! Alita pleaded, closing her eyes and shaking her head. Please, no. She had been taught by her excellent parents how to obey, and she longed to forget that lesson with all her heart.

  A new scent met her nostrils. She smelled the corpses, the stench stifling. Her lungs felt as if they were collapsing in her chest. She saw an image of another battle, worse than Tel-el-Kebir, if that could be imagined. She knew, somehow, she had the piece in her hand which could stop this onslaught.

  Alita opened her now-watering eyes, stunned. Someone greater than herself believed in her, of that there could be no question. No doubt her contribution was a very small but necessary piece in a much greater puzzle. She would know when the time came, of that she could be sure.

  At any rate, she would certainly not ignore a direct order from the heavens. She might be a stupid, hapless girl, but she was not that imprudent.

  “Alita, are you all right?” Lady Elaina asked anxiously.

  “Yes, Ma-ma,” Alita replied softly, not quite sure that she was. She released the air in her lungs, and the hideous smell began to fade as her resolve increased. She could not selfishly ignore another’s pain when there was something she and only she could do to help.

  As strange as the idea sounded turning it ’round in her mind, her heart knew it to be true: she was uniquely qualified to assist. When she had completed her task, she would return home and set about reclaiming her dreams of marriage, family, and love.

  After all, Alita consoled herself, she was compelled to go somewhere, why not somewhere where she could do some good?

  Alita wrung her hands with the realization she was moving towards a mystery and adventure unlike anything she had ever experienced—and never wanted. She took a deep breath and steeled herself.

  “Alita Jane, answer me!” the duchess commanded. “Where shall we go?”

  “Egypt,” she said delicately but with finality. “We shall go to Egypt.” Alita rarely spoke in absolutes or in an uncooperative tone of voice, but, on this one occasion, her answer to her grandmamma was expressed without compromise.

  As she heard the words for the first time—out of her own mouth, no less—Alita felt a sense of surprise and shock, which, interestingly enough, mirrored the expressions on her mother’s and grandmother’s faces.

  For one with only a vague sense of purpose some twenty-four hours prior, Miss Alita Stanton suddenly was a young lady who knew her own mind very well indeed.

  10

  An Unexpected Destination

  “EGYPT!” exclaimed Marvella. “Girl, have you gone quite mad?” she demanded, gaping at her granddaughter as if she didn’t know her.

  “There is a war in Egypt,” Lady Elaina joined in, staring at her daughter in disbelief.

  “Britain has won the war,” Alita replied matter-of-factly, patting away tears on her cheeks with her lace handkerchief. Her nonchalance stood in marked contrast to her near hysterics only minutes ago. “The Egyptian army has been reorganized under British officers. Control of Egypt has effectively passed to the queen. Didn’t you know this, Mother?” she asked, surprised. There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, her eyebrows now raised, the handkerchief paused in mid-air.

  “I don’t believe your information has been confirmed as yet, Alita,” Lady Elaina countered, wondering if the shock of the day had overtaken her daughter. She would not have believed the scene unfolding before her had she not seen it with her own eyes. A moment ago the girl had been a basket beggar. Now there was a hint of condescension in her daughter’s tone, proposing traversing into a war zone as one might discuss how to boil an egg or darn a sock.

  “Confirmed or not, it’s insanity,” the duchess interjected, adding in a huff, “Why are we having this discussion?”

  “The relevant point is it isn’t safe,” Lady Elaina added in a shaky voice.

  “It is quite safe, Mother, I assure you.”

  Lady Elaina studied Alita intently, making note of her serenity. Elaina had learned to pay attention to her daughter’s hunches. On more than one occasion, Alita had warned her not to administer a particular drug to a patient and pursue a different diagnosis, which had later proven to be correct.

  But this proposed journey filled Elaina with extreme misgivings. No, terror. Alita was born with a special gift, but she was not omniscient. She was a young person growing up. An imperfect human. She suffered and felt pain. Today was proof of that. She had hopes, dreams, misperceptions, and disappointments.

  Lady Elaina knew Alita accessed the feelings of those she encountered, but those emotions could only be interpreted within the context of Alita’s understanding.

  Moreover, Alita focused on a specific area of concern. A person might have a deadly disease, and Alita would not know it unless she was specifically in tune with that condition. Alita could perceive one’s distress or pain, but whether or not she could diagnose was dependent on her focus and on how emotionally joined she was to the subject in question.

  Worse, Lady Elaina thought with dread, a person might have a demented, dangerous quality which Alita bypassed if she were, instead, in tune with the individual’s positive attributes. People were like crystals, with countless sparkling facets, worlds unto themselves. Even the worst of people were generally loved by someone.

  So how could her daughter know the truths of an entire country with accuracy? If individual people were multifaceted, what about an entire country of millions of people?

  Lady Elaina’s heart sank in her chest. Or an invaded country which had only just been overtaken by a foreign enemy, the race of which her daughter shared?

  “Safe or not, it is absurd to contemplate going any place unfashionable,” her Grace added. “What you are suggesting is positively barbaric.”

  “Egypt is quite fashionable, as opulent as Paris or London and certainly more exotic, with a complex and advanced culture,” Alita continued offhandedly. “Everyone has been to Paris. To have been to Egypt could alone make one a sensation. Don’t you recall the notoriety attached to anyone who attended the grand opening of the Suez Canal? It was the social coup of the decade.”

  “Alita Jane, I am not interested in arguing with you—or with anyone—but particularly not with my own granddaughter. It is unseemly.” The duchess raised her chin. “The subject is closed. It is out of the question. A war zone indeed.”

  Alita had long been a malleable child. At the moment, none of that agreeable nature was apparent.

  “I am so sorry; I did not mean to argue Grandmamma. I merely meant to inform you of my intent. I will go to Egypt.”

  Marvella gasped, not believing her
ears. “Whyever for?”

  “I wish to see the pyramids.”

  “Alita! Are you listening to your grandmamma?” the duchess exclaimed. “I will not tolerate this insolence. And let me be perfectly clear on one other point. I shall not go to Egypt.”

  “Oh?” Alita asked. “You don’t think you would enjoy seeing Egypt, Grandmamma? The pyramids and the ancient tombs?”

  “No, I most certainly do not. Nor do I wish to cavort with foreigners. Nor do I wish to embark on such a long journey. Nor do I have any interest in historical artifacts—nor history of any type, for that matter.” Marvella reflected on her words momentarily before continuing in a softer voice. “Well, I do like to visit Versailles or any museum containing jewelry and gowns, of the European style.”

  “My dear Grandmamma, I did not know. Please do forgive me,” Alita remarked with contrition. “I would never ask you to do anything you did not wish to do no matter how much pleasure it would afford me to have you with me.”

  Marvella smiled smugly. “That’s better.”

  “I will ask my Aunt Jane and Uncle Oroville to attend me.”

  “You will what?”

  “Uncle Oroville has traveled the world and has no fear of any foreign waters.”

  “Excuse me, young lady? Did I say I feared Egypt? I most certainly did not. I merely said I did not wish to go,” retorted Her Grace. “It is very important in conversation not to change the meaning of other people’s words. I notice that you do that quite a bit, Alita.”

  “I am sorry, Grandmamma. I misunderstood quite obviously.”

  “Your Aunt Jane?” Marvella cleared her throat. “Certainly not. She might be my sister but she is not suitable. She never married out of her station as I did. Jane will lend you no countenance.”

  “Mother, that is most unkind and untrue,” Lady Elaina stared pointedly at her mother.” Aunt Jane always dresses in the first style of fashion, besides being possessed of a charm and warmth to whom few can aspire.”

  “True.” Alita felt herself to be in perfect agreement with her mother. “And despite Aunt Jane’s great sense of style in both fashion and manner, she never considers herself too good to speak to anyone or to help anyone.”

  “Precisely my point. Jane speaks to positively everyone rather than reserving her kindness for the truly important people. A quality which is unfortunately shared by that man she married. Oroville Lovett,” Marvella muttered. She waved her hand as if the movement had the ability to dissolve the marriage. “That vagabond would finalize Alita’s descent.”

  “Uncle Oroville?” asked Alita. “He is the dearest, kindest person alive.”

  “And so he is,” added Lady Elaina thoughtfully, “but Uncle Oroville is also boisterous, loud, jovial and…”

  “Happy?” asked Alita. “Every place he leaves, people are happier and are left with a smile on their faces. I shall never understand why being refined necessarily means being dull and quiet and leaving everyone feeling gloomy.”

  “Until you do understand that, my dear, we shall need to keep a particularly close eye on you,” stated her Grace.

  They hit a bump in the road, and all three ladies bounced, as if to add emphasis to the pronouncement.

  “The fact remains,” stated Lady Elaina, “Oroville Lovett is a retired seafaring man who is more colorful in both personality and attire than a peacock in mating season. Though he might have many friends himself, he is not the type of chaperone for a girl who is on the fringes of society.”

  Alita shook her head in disagreement, unmoved by the opposition. “Uncle Oroville would be excellent as protection. He fears no one, knows how to use all weapons, and is astute and levelheaded.”

  “Weapons?” exclaimed Marvella. “Good gracious, girl, now you are purposely planning a trip to a location where you need weapons! Let us all be off to America, then, if we wish to die.”

  “Don’t be absurd, Grandmamma. Egypt is perfectly safe. It is British-occupied and has been for some years since Disraeli instigated the coup which placed Britain as one of the majority owners of the Suez Canal. Ma-ma says that the Suez Canal Company runs Egypt, don’t you Ma-ma?”

  “Yes…The attempt by nationalists to recover the country for Egyptians—hence the war—has apparently failed…” She wrung her hands. “…we must verify your sources…But the country has been run by the Suez Canal Company for some time and continues to be. Still, the war attempt, failed or not, is strongly indicative of unrest in the country.”

  “Don’t talk your politics to me,” snapped Marvella. “Just deal in the facts. Then why do we need to take along weapons?”

  “We shan’t, of course. But how can it not be to one’s advantage to have protection, Grandmamma? It is always preferable to have a gentleman along, don’t you always say so?” asked Alita demurely. “Paris is safe, too, but one increases one’s safety when traveling with a gentleman escort and taking all the precautions.”

  “Hmmm…you could be correct on that one point,” Marvella considered thoughtfully.

  “Alita, dear, you have just been dealt a terrible blow.” Lady Elaina seemed to feel the conversation was running astray. “You have been rejected by your friends, whom you love, on the most anticipated day of your life. Perchance you are seeking to run from your life, from everything which is familiar to you?”

  “No, Ma-ma,” Alita replied smoothly, shaking her head vehemently at her mother’s misunderstanding. She personally had no desire whatsoever to go to Egypt nor to leave her life. “I wish to go to Egypt because there is a purpose for me there, an opening for something greater than myself to instruct me.”

  “God forbid,” Marvella groaned. “You sound like your mother. Indeed we must away quickly.” In her strongest tone she added, “This is my final word, Alita Stanton. I am not going to Egypt, and neither are you. You shall go somewhere where I can accompany you. This is your best hope of getting out of this predicament. I have had just about enough of this nonsense, and it is time to make some serious plans. I don’t blame you for this unfortunate situation, dearest, but it is now time to turn our minds to solving it.”

  “Yes, Grandmamma, I agree that my chances of success are greatest if you accompany me. And I would very much enjoy your company.” Alita declared politely with steel in her voice. “But I am going to Egypt.”

  Both Marvella and Lady Elaina stared at Alita in obvious disbelief.

  In all fairness, it was unprecedented for her to speak in absolutes and to defy authority. Alita Stanton had always been easy to mold and to shape. Both her mother and her grandmother were visibly stunned at this change in personality at a time when she most needed to comply.

  Alita surprised even herself. Nothing had been more important to her than her presentation in society for as long as anyone could remember, and suddenly she was acting as if she had another agenda.

  11

  The Man in Charge

  I have been commanded to appear before the ruler of Egypt. Val ran his fingers over the sharp parchment edges of the note crumpled in his left hand from Sir Evelyn Baring, 1st Earl of Cromer and Consul General of Egypt, who was, for all intents and purposes, the supreme ruler of Egypt. It was a well-known fact that the royal family was merely a figurehead.

  Sir Evelyn Baring ran Egypt.

  And what can I do for you, your holiness? Crowned head or royal sovereign, this did not bode well.

  Why have I been summoned? Val Huntington stood outside the British Consulate, officially the Office of the Consul General of Egypt, staring at the heavy mahogany door which separated him from the answer.

  Not that I give a damn. But he was still in the army, and he would prefer not to end his career by dishonoring his family. He might have lost his personal integrity, but his family honor was, as yet, intact.

  How could he think about himself? And his questionable honor when so many, both English and Egyptian, had died? Just as the Egyptian he had seen die.

  No, the Egyptian whom I killed. He had v
isited Banafrit’s children, to look after their needs, providing him with endless self-torture.

  Who deserves to be tortured more than myself?

  Val shook his head in self-recrimination. The Crown could run a sword through his heart or lock him in prison, but he would not kill again for territory or gold.

  Bloody hell. Val cursed to himself, disturbed by his own thoughts which he could not control.

  Everything was out of control since Tel-el-Kebir.

  And now he was having a conversation in his head with someone.

  The likely explanation is that I am going mad, Val concluded.

  Whose side are you on, Ravensdale? Where do your loyalties lie?

  Are you a coward or a traitor?

  Suddenly he felt a presence, a breath on his ear, a whisper without words. He turned immediately, drawing his sword, and saw no one.

  I am awake in a nightmare. Val returned his sword to its sheath and leaned against the wall, his heart pounding in his chest.

  He was misplaced. He who had always known himself so well.

  I have so many questions. Staring at the doorway, he seriously doubted he would find any answers in the British Consulate.

  Despite his unholy skepticism, Val continued to gaze fixedly at the massive door as if secrets were encrypted in the wood grain.

  He couldn’t fathom why he had been summoned—and he cared even less—but he was ready to tell someone, anyone, of his resignation.

  Egypt’s supreme ruler would do as well as anyone.

  Entering the rambling stone building on Rue Maghrabi, the imposing mahogany door creaked as if it might come off its hinges. The carpet was a sickening mustard color, and the drafty, discolored windows were adorned with dirty velveteen curtains edged with little woolly balls, the purpose of which escaped him. Toys for gremlins or the family pet? The ceilings were shocking in dark green and gold.

  The surroundings did nothing to reduce the incoherence and confusion he felt. Finding the consul-general’s offices, he was greeted with reserve by Lord Cromer’s secretary. From the condescending expression on the secretary’s face, Val surmised that he must look as if he was suffering from a night of drinking. Glancing in a wall mirror, his suspicions were confirmed.