The Destiny Code: The Soldier and the Mystic (Daughters of the Empire Book 1)
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“Your granddaughter?” Lord Ravensdale appeared noticeably perplexed. It was well known to all present he would have remembered the granddaughter of His Grace the Duke of Yarbury even if she had the personality and appearance of a dead fish. Val shook his head, clearly certain that the duchess had been misinformed. “Possibly she had me confused with someone else. I am rarely in society.”
“I don’t believe so, your Lordship. She gave me your name herself.”
“I haven’t been in London in years.” His lips formed an enchanting smile, designed to win over every generation of womankind, Marvella had no doubt. It was certainly working on her, she had to admit.
“Even if the acquaintance had been many, many years ago within the insipid confines of London society,” the captain continued, “I can assure you I would remember the Duke of Yarbury’s granddaughter. I am said to have an excellent memory.”
“My granddaughter did not meet you in London.”
“Oh?” He asked politely, as if merely to placate her, “What is your granddaughter’s name?”
Without further ceremony, Marvella replied, “Miss Alita Stanton.”
A wave of recognition immediately washed over Lord Ravensdale’s face. It was evident to both parties present the earl of Ravensdale both remembered Her Grace’s granddaughter very well and had not been entirely bored in the young lady’s presence.
“I see that you recall her?” stated Marvella with no small amount of satisfaction. “She is a most beautiful girl, is she not?”
“No one could deny that fact who has seen her,” enunciated Lord Ravensdale in controlled tones, his voice harsher and lower than it had been. “Or the reality of her illustrious connections,” he added tersely.
“Is it possible”—suddenly, yet another wave of recognition washed over Lord Ravensdale’s countenance—“could it be possible that Miss Stanton is the daughter of Dr. Jonathan Stanton, the famed inventor?”
“To be sure, Lord Ravensdale.” Marvella released a single deep sigh followed by a nod.
She grew weary of this connection. It was the source of Alita’s wealth, and wealth was never a bad thing, but it would have been so much better if the riches had been inherited instead of earned.
One can’t have everything.
“Whisking us into the mechanical age and altering the course of history forever for all of humankind,” he added in deliberate tones, his voice strangely choppy.
“Are you quite all right, Lord Ravensdale?” asked Marvella.
“Quite,” he replied, but there were flames shooting from his eyes, his tone carrying an edge.
“Ravensdale?” posed Sir Evelyn.
“It is astonishing…” Everything else in Lord Ravensdale’s countenance remained controlled and cordial. He added in the smoothest of tones, “Your Grace, how one’s memory overwhelms one at times. For example,” he articulated, his index finger tapping his forehead, “I believe that Dr. Stanton’s wife actually works with Florence Nightingale, yet another notable?”
To a sigh and a nod, Marvella added a grimace. “You do have an excellent memory, Your Lordship,” she stated flatly.
“Please pardon my slow recollection, Your Grace,” Lord Ravensdale stated, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. “I met Miss Stanton here, at the British Consulate, but she did not speak of her relations. I did ask after her family, of course, but it appears there were omissions in her reply.”
“Unusual,” replied Marvella. “Generally that is the first thing people speak of.”
“It is a fact which, frankly, perplexes me as well.”
Observing Lord Ravensdale’s stiff demeanor but not convinced further quizzing would promote her purposes, Marvella dismissed her curiosity in favor of more practical matters. “I expect you found other topics to engage your interest. Alita is an exceptionally sympathetic girl, as I’m sure you are aware, Lord Ravensdale.” She bestowed a warm smile upon him.
“Most sympathetic. It did not escape my notice.”
She exchanged knowing looks with Sir Evelyn. She was fairly certain they shared the same thoughts. Neither she nor Sir Evelyn knew the reason for Lord Ravensdale’s obvious discomfort, but she surmised that an attraction existed between Alita and the earl.
Whatever the meeting which had taken place, the usual formalities did not appear to have been observed, and it therefore appeared difficult for Lord Ravensdale to respond to their queries. Marvella supposed it had been a brief meeting, though apparently memorable to both parties. Perhaps the earl had been on his way to a pressing engagement and they had merely exchanged a few words.
Sir Evelyn intervened. “You’ll be gratified to know, Ravensdale, that I have offered your services as a guide to the Pyramids at Giza to Miss Stanton and the duchess.”
Lord Ravensdale appeared far from pleased. “Sir, though I can think of nothing more pleasurable, and though it bestows a great honor on me, I fear there are several pressing reports which you will not wish me to delay. Allow me to find a more suitable guide for the ladies.”
“I assure you, Ravensdale, I can wait another day on the reports. I desire you to accompany the ladies.” Sir Evelyn’s expression grew hard and his voice uncompromising, even as a wave of his hand indicated dismissal. “Call on them tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.” Lord Ravensdale bowed stiffly.
“What is your direction, Duchess?” Sir Evelyn turned toward Marvella and smiled most congenially.
Marvella presented a card masterfully calligraphed with her Cairo address. Sir Evelyn’s expression returned to a smile as he noted her obvious preparedness.
“That will be all, Captain,” stated Sir Evelyn with a finality to his voice as the handed the card to Lord Ravensdale.
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Daydreams and Progress
“Alita! Are you daydreaming again? I declare, your manners are atrocious! What has gotten into you, my girl?” The duchess paused her teacup in midair, turning to William and speaking in a whisper while the orchestra played. “When she has some children to absorb her attentions, she will be just fine. All girls are this way at her”—cough—“age.” Cough.
“Indeed.” William nodded, his lower lip unable to suppress a slight quiver.
In fact, gazing into vivid blue eyes framed by masculine features and sandy-blond hair, Alita’s mind happily drifted back to a shared memory, her first moment of seeing the port city of Alexandria after six weeks of travel by steamboat. Her first glimpse of Egypt, a sight she knew she would never forget.
“Oh, the beaches are sparkling white,” she had whispered to William, “and go on forever. One sees no end to them. And the water, so azure against the white beaches.”
“The Pearl of the Mediterranean,” William had murmured. She warmed now even to remember it.
“It is a mystery, William.”
“What is, Miss Alita?”
“I was always a person so attached to home.” Watching the harbor coming into view, she had reflected out loud, something she felt more and more comfortable doing in William’s presence. “I never had the slightest desire to visit any place far from home—certainly not exotic lands—and here I am, coming into Egypt.”
“I feel equally astonished to find myself here.”
“The surprising thing is I am enjoying myself immensely. I did not come because I wished to come, and yet…” She had smiled at him, suppressing a giggle. It was an indescribably wonderful sensation to stifle laughter after fighting a deep sadness.
Only she knew the full reason for her journey, though her disgrace was by then well known to Lord Sherwood. Alita knew William to be a stickler for the formalities, but that was due more to pragmatism than to snobbery, she had learned. His family’s livelihood and reason for being was politics, a field which required social approval to be successful.
She was therefore surprised he had aligned himself with her. She had to conclude her embarrassment was merely a source of amusement about London more than a blight upon her family
’s reputation.
At least she hoped so.
“I do not fault you in the least, Miss Alita.” He had read the question in her eyes and answered it. “Excuse me, I beg you will finish your sentence. You didn’t wish to come and yet…what?”
“I am having the time of my life.”
“And I also, Miss Alita.” He took her hand and gently held it in his. She felt the warmth of companionship, which made her feel safe and content.
“Is it not difficult to believe that this beautiful port was the setting for the stormy relationship between Cleopatra and Mark Antony?” William had pointed to the shore and asked. She recalled his words so clearly. “And what of you, Miss Alita? Is that what you want from life? A stormy romance? Theatrical courtships?”
“Oh, no, William,” She had been unable to contain her laughter. “I seem to land myself into scrapes, but that is not what I want. More than anything, I want peace. Contentment. Family.” Acceptance.
“Myself also.” She remembered every nuance of his smile as he gazed at her, so like the gaze he bestowed upon her now. Her heart quickened as his tranquil blue eyes met hers, his blond hair in striking contrast to the black formal dress he wore.
This memory with William at Alexandria had given her so much pleasure and delight.
Until now.
Since meeting Lord Ravensdale, everything seemed topsy-turvy. She was distressed, uncertain, and anxious. She didn’t seem to know her own mind anymore, and her dreams were no longer clear to her. What could have happened?
Why am I so confused?
“Alita! Are you listening?” demanded Marvella. “I will not tolerate this impolite behavior.”
“I am so sorry, Grandmama. What were you saying?”
“I said that you children are so spoiled. You have no idea how things have changed since I was a girl.”
William smiled.
“To begin with”—Marvella cleared her throat, clearly taking William’s expression as an invitation—“we certainly had no steamboats—no engines or motorized travel of any kind. There were only horse-drawn carriages at that time.”
“For generations, people’s lives were much the same,” Alita agreed.
“As it should be. Why, your mother took a horse and carriage to London for her first season, as did I.”
“And how long did it take to reach London?” William asked politely.
“Several days, to be sure.” Marvella shook her head in disbelief. “And here you are taking a steamboat to Egypt at the same age. It astonishes one.”
“And did you enjoy your first London season, Grandmamma?” Alita asked.
“Hmmm, enjoy,” Marvella considered somberly. “It was not entertainment nor a diversion for me as it was for some. It was my livelihood. There was only success or failure. There was no in between. My family could not afford a second season. My entire life—and that of my family—rested on the season.”
She had been terrified. Alita suddenly knew her grandmamma in a way that had never been real to her before.
Marvella placed her hand at her throat as if catching her breath all over again. Her hand touched a ruby pendant nestled in expensive lace, as if the stone was a comfort to the resurfacing vicar’s daughter who owned no jewels.
“And the men of that day. Were they very different from today’s young men, Grandmamma?” Alita asked, genuinely curious.
“Renaissance men, every one of them.” She grew pensive, her lips forming a slight smile, as she remembered the elegant gentlemen of her youth. “It was a time when men understood everything in their world.”
“There was less to understand,” William posed.
“Far more educated than the men of today.” The duchess shook her head in disagreement. “They knew Greek, Latin, Italian, and French. They were well read in every subject, both in literature and mathematics. They played musical instruments. They were master sportsmen. They knew fencing, boxing, and all the fighting arts.” Marvella smiled, and she looked as if she were sixteen again. “One doesn’t meet men like that these days.”
I have just met such a man. Alita wished with all her heart that she would stop thinking about him. He was ruining an otherwise lovely holiday.
“But surely all this progress must count for something,” William suggested.
“Humph!” snorted the Dowager Duchess of Yarbury, raising her lovely arched brows. “There has only been one invention of note in my lifetime.”
“One? You can’t be serious, ma’am,” stated William incredulously.
“I’ll thank you not to tell me when I’m serious and when I’m not, young man,” Marvella said haughtily.
“Please forgive me, your Grace.”
“And what is that invention of note, Grandmamma?”
“I’ll never forget the first time I walked into Mr. Cadbury’s shop.” Marvella sighed.
“Cadbury’s Chocolates is the invention of note?” It was Alita’s turn to raise her eyebrows.
“Do you know of a better invention than chocolate?” demanded her Grace.
“Ah, yes. English Quaker John Cadbury opened a coffee shop after he began experimenting with grinding cocoa beans and making chocolate,” said William.
“And when did you first make an acquaintance with Mr. Cadbury, Grandmamma?”
“It was during my season. Let’s see. I was born in 1820. I was just turned sixteen, so it was 1836.” Marvella added under her breath, “Girls did not waste so much time in my day.”
Alita stifled a giggle. “And I was born March 19, 1864. If I live to be eighty, that will be 1944.” She sighed. “And yet, by talking to my Grandmamma, I can be taken back to 1820. I am there with her as she speaks. In reliving all these memories, my life may span one hundred and twenty-five years, utilizing both my experiences and an eyewitness account. Seeing it with her eyes, I can experience from prior to the advent of machinery to—who knows? Perhaps women will vote before I die?”
“I hope I may die first before I see women intrude upon a man’s realm,” Marvella articulated, grasping her hands to her throat.
“Your mother is well acquainted with John Stuart Mill, I believe, who has often campaigned for women’s suffrage in Parliament?” William studied Alita with obvious curiosity, getting the better of his usual reserve.
“Ma-ma knows positively everyone,” Alita agreed.
“But you do not share your mother’s zeal for women’s politics, do you, Miss Alita?”
“I do not find fault with it, but no, it has not been an interest of mine.”
“It complicates one’s life to hold unpopular opinions, and if complications can be avoided, all the better.” William said with undisguised relief.
“There is no doubt of that.” Alita wished for far less challenging persons—Lord Ravensdale being at the top of that list. A more complex person in more turmoil would be difficult to find.
And yet I long to see him again.
Some people seemed in search of trouble. She glanced at William. He was a man who avoided problems.
Much wiser.
“Elaina was always drawn to people who challenge society. Most disturbing,” Marvella said.
“Long before Mill’s esteemed election to Parliament, he was arrested, my mother informs me,” Alita explained.
“Elaina consorts with persons who have been incarcerated? On what charge?” Marvella demanded, reaching for her wine.
“For, let us say, distributing controversial literature,” interrupted Lord Sherwood with a tone of finality in his voice, clearly attempting to change the subject.
“For distributing literature on birth control to the London poor,” Alita stated simply.
Marvella tottered in her chair, appearing as if she might faint except that she hit herself in the forehead with the back of her hand in a sweeping motion, which appeared to revive her.
William likewise expressed shock at Alita’s remark, though she knew full well the content of the pamphlets were known to him.
“Most inappropriate conversation for young ladies, Alita.” Marvella shook her head in grave disapproval. “I have thought for some time your remarks are far too informed for a young lady. And now I see where it leads.”
“It happened.” Alita shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t see how covering up the truth could possibly be of importance to anyone.”
William began to chuckle, his amusement clearly overcoming his surprise. “The fact that you don’t see is why we are here in Egypt, Miss Alita.”
Alita was pained by William’s remark, and her feelings must have been apparent.
“My dear Miss Alita, I am profoundly sorry if I distressed you.”
“You were merely speaking the truth, William.”
“Let us speak of it no more.” Marvella’s expression was stern. “It is the fault of the tainted times in which we live and not of Alita’s dear, sweet nature. If only ladies returned to looking and acting like young ladies, the world would be a greatly improved place,” Her Grace proclaimed.
“Hear! Hear!” William agreed as he raised his glass.
The three nodded in unison. It seemed they had hit upon a subject upon which they could all agree.
Their delicious dinner appeared to be coming to a close when the waiter arrived with the final course of Turkish coffee, grapes, a lightly sweetened dough filled with a mixture of dates, figs, and nuts and drizzled with honey, and, not to be overlooked, the English dessert tray.
“And now we shall show honor to Henri Nestlé as well as to John Cadbury,” stated Marvella, lowering her head as if in silent prayer. “May God bless his soul.”
“Ah, Your Grace, but whom do you regard more highly?” inquired Lord Sherwood as Marvella chose the chocolate cake. “Henri Nestlé or John Cadbury?”
“They guard the twin gates to heaven,” the Dowager Duchess of Yarbury pronounced as she took a bite, her eyes closing with obvious bliss. “I rest my case.”
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