Tide of Fortune (21 page)

Kerenza attempted a smile. ‘I’ll see you all later, then.’ Maggot and the vice-consul nodded. Her glance gaze met Nick’s, seeking reassurance. ‘I hope everything goes well, and –’

‘Yes, all right.’ William waved her away impatiently. ‘Get along with you. I don’t want to keep the Governor waiting. He might have no manners, but we must show him we are not to be trifled with.’

‘I think, Mr Vyvyan,’ the vice-consul intervened, ‘that you should prepare yourself for a considerable wait. Moroccan time is not like English time.’

‘But we have an appointment,’ William blustered.

‘So we see the Governor before nightfall,’ Maggot shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

Nick motioned Kerenza away with a tiny movement of his head and a reassuring smile.

Kerenza followed her guide along cool passages rich with decoration. She caught glimpses of bright robes that vanished around corners or through arches with carved doors that closed as she drew level. She heard soft hisses, and the whisper of cloth slippers on the floor tiles.

Finally they arrived at the entrance to a courtyard paved with stone slabs on which large pots glazed in deep blue and dark red overflowed with leafy green shrubs heavy with scented blossoms of white, purple, yellow, and deep pink.

Indicating that Kerenza should enter, the servant bowed and turned away, disappearing round a corner.

Moistening her lips, she stood for a moment beside a marble column. At first glance the courtyard appeared to be empty. Then, in the shadows of an open porch on the far side, she saw, propped on cushions on a low couch, a bulky figure swathed in voluminous turquoise trimmed with silver braid. The pointed toes of matching slippers peeped out from beneath the hem. A turquoise headscarf obscured her face.

Kerenza hoped the woman might understand enough to tell her where Dulcie was. Drawing a deep breath, she started across the courtyard. In the scented silence, her footsteps sounded loud on the flagstones. The figure stirred and heaved itself up on one elbow.

‘What took you so long? Surely you could have come sooner?’ The accusing whine was unmistakable.

‘
Dulcie
?’ Kerenza stared as her sister swung her legs off the couch and pulled her gown straight.

‘Well, who else did you expect to see?’

‘I’m sorry, it’s just – I didn’t expect – your clothes –’ Kerenza hugged her arms across her body in an automatic gesture of self-protection. Half-formed, hopeful visions of first moments that had included outstretched hands, a warm hug, relief at her arrival, an apology for the past and a plea that they put it behind them – all of which she would gladly have accepted – evaporated. Those had been stupid dreams. This was reality.

Dulcie hadn’t changed, except for her weight. She had always been plump, inheriting their mother’s rounded figure. Now she was fat. At least she had not been kept short of food.

‘For heavens’ sake, Kerenza. We were brought here with nothing but the clothes we were wearing.’

‘Yes, of course, I’m sorry –’

‘Besides, this is far more comfortable. These courts can get very hot.’

About to say that she knew, and tell her sister about Zohra, Kerenza stopped herself. This was not the time. ‘I’m so sorry about Mother. It must have been terrible for you to lose her. You had always been close.’ She was careful to make it a simple statement, avoiding criticism or complaint. ‘To be here with only each other for company –’

‘Company?’ Dulcie snorted, fiddling with the silver braid that decorated the front of her kaftan. ‘All she ever talked about was Papa. All day and half the night, on and on and on about how he would come the next day or the next week and take us home. But he never did.’ Her expression was angry and bitter.

‘He was a prisoner himself, Dulcie, in Algiers. Then he fell ill, so it was months before –’

‘I know how long it was,’ Dulcie shouted. ‘I was here, waiting, remember? Trying to make Mama eat, trying to keep her clean. I got fed up with it. You needn’t look like that. You have no idea what it’s been like for me. I did everything for her. But all she ever talked about was Papa. She didn’t have a thought for what I was going through.’ Her face crumpled.

‘Oh Dulcie.’ Looking at her sister, Kerenza was filled with compassion. ‘It must have been awful.’

‘It was worse.’ Dulcie scrubbed the heel of her hand across her eyes then caught her breath, dropping both hands to her belly.

‘What’s wrong? Are you unwell?’ Her gaze dropped to her sister’s hands, then focused on the swelling beneath. Dulcie was certainly carrying – As realisation hit her, her instinctive reaction was denial.
No.
Dulcie couldn’t possibly be – She looked up and saw her sister watching her with an odd combination of defiance, pride, and fear.

Kerenza bit the inside of her lip so hard she tasted the salty warmth of blood. It was small wonder the vice-consul and the doctor had behaved so oddly. This was the governor’s promised protection?

How was she to tell her father? What would the shock do to him? He would demand revenge: he’d create a political storm, and Dulcie’s condition would become public in a scandal that would plaster the Vyvyan name all over the newspapers. The prospect dried Kerenza’s throat. She felt sick. What about Dulcie? How must she be feeling?

Summoning every ounce of willpower to force aside her fears and her memories of Dulcie’s past unkindness, Kerenza stretched out a trembling hand and laid it over her sister’s.

‘Oh Dulcie, I’m so sorry. Papa said the governor had promised you and Mama his protection. How could he have let this happen? Was it – Were you hurt? Has the person responsible been caught and punished?’

Pushing Kerenza’s hand away, Dulcie levered herself up and walked to the junction between cool shade and the sun’s heat. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

Kerenza straightened up, facing her sister, bewildered. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean it wasn’t – I wasn’t attacked.’

‘
Not
attacked?’

Dulcie flushed, but her manner was defiant. ‘Oh, do stop repeating everything. I wasn’t violated. This baby is a child of love.’ She rested her hands on the swelling, more pronounced now she was standing.

Kerenza stared at her sister, then moistened bone-dry lips. ‘Who –?’ She got no further.

‘He’s a prince,’ Dulcie said proudly. ‘They don’t use that word here, but he’s one of the sultan’s sons so he’s definitely a prince. His name is Aruj.’

‘I saw him yesterday,’ Kerenza blurted. ‘On horseback with his bodyguard.’

Dulcie’s face lit up. ‘He’s back?’ But her excitement swiftly faded and her face fell into an irritated frown. ‘I’ve hardly seen him since Mama died. Still, I suppose being a prince means he has all kinds of important duties.’ Her expression softened and she sighed dreamily. ‘Isn’t he handsome?’

Kerenza swallowed. ‘Dulcie –’

‘He wants to marry me, you know.’

‘What?’

‘He
does
. That’s where he’s been: to visit his father. He came to see me before he went. He only stayed a few minutes. I don’t think he wanted to go. But when your father is the sultan and he commands you, you have to do as you’re told. Anyway, now he’s back and I expect it’s all settled. Aruj will have told his father that he wants to marry me.’ She pressed clasped hands to her bosom and sighed happily. ‘I shall be a princess. And when I am –’ her mouth thinned and her features grew sharp ‘– I shall make changes, starting with some of the servants. I see them, laughing and sneering. I can’t do anything yet, but once I’m married they’d better watch out. They won’t be laughing then. Oh no.’

‘Dulcie –’ Kerenza tried again.

‘You really should have come sooner. I’ve been so awfully lonely. Especially since Mama – She became horribly difficult, always talking about Papa, and moaning about what was to become of us. She was so unkind about Aruj. She wouldn’t make any effort to understand. She said all kinds of really hurtful things. None of the servants speak English. Well, I daresay they could if they tried, but they won’t make the effort. Their language is impossible. I just can’t get my tongue around it. So it’s a good thing you’ve come. I’ve really missed someone to talk to. Aruj speaks a little English. I think he once had a tutor. But I’ve hardly seen him –’ She caught herself and flashed a bright smile. ‘An important man like him must have all kinds of demands on his time.’

Kerenza felt as if she had strayed into a nightmare. ‘Dulcie, you can’t stay here.’

Dulcie’s chin rose. ‘Aruj loves me. He wants to marry me. I shall be a princess. You can stay and be my companion. I shall need someone –’

‘No.’ Kerenza shook her head. ‘No, I can’t do that.’

‘But I need you,’ Dulcie cried. ‘You can’t leave me here all on my own.’

‘Of course not. Nor would I. Dulcie, Papa brought the money the governor asked for. Even now they are negotiating for you to be released. You can’t stay here.’

‘You can’t tell me what to do! Who do you think you are? I don’t want to talk to you any more. Go away. Go on, leave me alone.’

‘I’ll come and see you tomorrow.’

‘You needn’t bother unless you’re going to be nicer to me. After all I’ve suffered, I expected more kindness.’ With a sniff that reminded Kerenza of Betsy Woodrow, Dulcie turned her back and waddled away. A moment later, the slam of a heavy wooden door resounded through the court.

After standing for a few moments, not sure what to do, Kerenza heaved a deep, shaky sigh and turned away. Across the court the woman who had guided her through the maze of passages and courts stepped out of the shadows and stood, waiting.

Chapter Eighteen

In an anteroom patterned with diamond-shaped tiles of green, white, red and black, and furnished with couches and low tables, Henry Corbett sat as calm and immobile as a statue.

Beside him, William Vyvyan fretted and fumed. Every few minutes he took his watch from his pocket, frowned at it, then heaved a loud and irritated sigh as he replaced it. Mordecai stood behind the couch, slightly to one side of the vice-consul. While Maggot gazed out of a window, Nick watched the constant tide of people ebb and flow in front of the broad archway that led out into a lofty hall.

There were merchants in Spanish dress, white-robed Arabs with faces like carved teak, fierce-eyed tribesmen wearing belted tunics over loose trousers tucked into soft leather boots. Among them moved the Governor’s bodyguards, the black
Bukhari
appointed by the sultan who served at his forts throughout the kingdom, various officials, other supplicants seeking audience, and household staff.

The clamour was deafening: a babble of raised voices and different languages, all citing need and claiming importance.

An hour passed. A slave brought an ornate silver tray containing a silver pot and several tiny glasses. After pouring mint tea, he retreated as silently as he had arrived. Another hour passed.

Suddenly there was a commotion outside. A handsome young man swept in, the loose open robe over his belted tunic, trousers, and boots billowing about him.

‘About time too,’ William huffed, struggling to rise from the couch. ‘Do you have any idea how long –?’

Imperiously waving him to silence, the young man turned to Nick.

‘You.’ His voice was harsh. ‘Come.’ Without waiting for an answer, he strode out.

‘Wait,’ William called. ‘What about me? Well, of all the –’

Signalling Maggot, Nick followed. People scattered, bowing low, as the young man crossed the wide hall and entered a half-open door. As Nick and Maggot reached him, he waved Maggot away.

‘With respect –’ Nick was polite but firm ‘– he must stay. I don’t speak your language.’

The young man addressed Maggot. Maggot bowed and replied, and, after an instant’s hesitation, the young man nodded and stood back. Once all three were inside, he dismissed three slaves who had rushed in, prostrating themselves, and closed the door.

‘He is Mulai Aruj,’ Maggot told Nick. ‘One of sultan’s sons.’

Nick bowed. ‘Tell him who we are and why we are here.’

Maggot obeyed. Even before he had finished, Aruj was already nodding and interrupted.

‘He know who we are,’ Maggot said.

Nick was puzzled. ‘So why is he talking to me? Surely it is Mr Vyvyan –?’

Again Aruj interrupted. He paced the floor, a torrent of words flowing from his lips. When he’d finished, he glared at Maggot, and gestured for him to translate.

Maggot swallowed. ‘He say his father has arranged marriage for him with daughter of tribal chief. We must take Miss Vyvyan away very quick. She in very much danger.’

Nick didn’t understand. ‘Why? How can she be? She’s under the governor’s protection.’

As Maggot translated the question, Nick watched the prince’s face stiffen and his eyes flash. He spat a reply.

‘He say you no ask questions, just take her away.’

‘Tell him that is why we’re here now, and why we’ve been coming each day. We want to settle things as soon as possible. But the governor is making us wait. Does he know why?’ Nick watched the prince as Maggot put the question and saw more irritation as he replied.

‘Pasha Abd-er-Azzak Medja – is governor’s name,’ Maggot explained quickly ‘He want money first.’

‘Mrs Vyvyan died while she was in his care.’ Nick was watching the prince. As Mulai Aruj caught his eye and instantly switched his gaze to Maggot, apparently waiting for him to translate, Nick wondered if the prince understood more than he wanted to admit. Pretending to need an interpreter would certainly allow him time to think before he responded. ‘Mr Vyvyan will not hand over any money until he has been permitted to see his daughter,’ Nick added, and saw the prince’s gaze slide away as a shadow crossed his face. Something wasn’t right. ‘Miss Vyvyan is well?’

As Maggot repeated the question, Aruj gave a brief nod and muttered a reply.

‘She is well. But Mulai Aruj say better Mr Vyvyan wait on ship for his daughter. You bring money. Miss Vyvyan leave with you.’

Nick frowned. ‘What’s going on? Why doesn’t he want Mr Vyvyan to see his daughter?’ He waited.

‘If Mr Vyvyan see his daughter,’ Maggot said, as the prince paced, ‘he make trouble for pasha. Pasha no like English. He tell Hassan es Zimmouri, then Miss Vyvyan in great danger. May be killed.’

‘Who is Hassan es Zimmouri?’

‘Chief of tribe, and father of betrothed of Mulai Aruj.’

Nick’s head had begun to ache. ‘But why should
he
want to kill Miss Vyvyan?’

The prince replied briefly, visibly irritated. Maggot stared at him, shock slackening his features for an instant. The prince flicked his fingers impatiently, indicating he should translate. Maggot swallowed.

‘What is it? Tell me,’ Nick kept his voice calm, but he could feel his muscles tightening. Something was very wrong.

Maggot’s dark gaze met his. ‘She –’ He curved his hands in front of his stomach.

‘She’s fat?’ Nick said blankly.

Maggot shook his head, then gripped his forearms, rocking them as if cradling a baby.

‘
She’s
with child
?’ As Maggot nodded, Nick felt the room tip for an instant as he tried to absorb all the implications. ‘Mulai Aruj is responsible?’

‘I think is not good to ask,’ Maggot said, giving the briefest of nods.

Nick’s brain was racing as the prince spoke again.

‘He say you go now,’ Maggot said. ‘Put Mr Vyvyan on ship. You bring money tomorrow, take Miss Vyvyan.’

With a regal nod, Mulai Aruj swept out. Nick saw the milling throng part, falling to their knees as, joined by two uniformed
Bukharis
, he strode through them. Within moments, he had disappeared.

With Maggot at his shoulder, Nick returned to the anteroom.

As he entered, he caught Henry’s Corbett’s eye and saw immediately that the vice-consul was already aware of the situation. Why hadn’t he warned them? Even as the question formed he knew the answer. Already sick and mentally fragile from his own ordeal, William Vyvyan had needed time to come to terms with the devastating news of his wife’s death. It would have been too cruel to inform him at the same time that his daughter had been raped and made pregnant while in the governor’s care. But surely Corbett could have said something since? To whom? The only people with a right to be told were the girl’s father and her sister.

Kerenza.
Her sister’s condition would reflect badly on her. Inevitably the news and attendant gossip would spread through both Falmouth and Flushing like a fever.

A fleeting image of Jeremy Ashworth hinting at Kerenza’s scandalous behaviour was followed by one of Edgar Tierney sitting behind his desk, sucking air through his teeth and shaking his head.
Troubled family: not a good connection for an ambitious young man.
He fought welling anger. He could not – must not – think about that.

The vice-consul knew, as Nick did, that William Vyvyan would have to be informed. But how, when, and where he learnt of his daughter’s condition would need to be carefully planned.

Putting his watch away, William glanced up. Seeing Nick, his brows rose. ‘Well?’

Nick was spared having to answer by Kerenza entering the room, escorted by a veiled female servant who immediately scuttled away. With the lower half of her face covered, all he could see were her eyes, shocked and stricken as they met his for an instant before she dipped her head. Nick started forward, placing himself between her and the couch.

‘Your father doesn’t know,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t tell him. We’ll talk later.’ Taking her hand he bowed over it, and spoke so all could hear. ‘Miss Tregenna. I’m sure your sister was happy to see you after all this time. I hope you found her well?’

He pressed her fingers gently and, to his consternation, saw her eyes fill. But she blinked back the tears before they could fall. ‘Yes, thank you, Mr Penrose. She’s as well as – as can be expected.’

Behind her another servant, male this time, entered the room. With his hand at his chest and a great deal of head shaking he made what was clearly a speech of regret. Then, with a final bow, he left. Everyone looked at Maggot, who showed no emotion as he translated.

‘Pasha Abd-er-Azzak Medja say he very sad, but the
cherqi
have give him headache. Can see no more peoples today. Please come tomorrow.’

William leapt to his feet, crimson with fury. ‘This is intolerable. We are here at his invitation. We had an appointment. I’ve never known such appalling manners.’

Nick watched Kerenza force herself forward in an attempt to defuse her father’s rage.

‘Papa, Mr Corbett did warn us –’

‘Oh be quiet, Kerenza,’ he snarled, and she flinched as if he had struck her. ‘I’ve no time for –’

‘Mr Vyvyan,’ Nick snapped. ‘You forget yourself, sir.’

William swung round, but before he could speak, Henry Corbett rose and took his arm.

‘It is indeed most frustrating,’ he sympathised. ‘At this very moment the consul may himself be experiencing just such a situation. But in our years here we have learnt that to show anger and displeasure weakens our position.’ Still talking quietly, he steered a stiff-backed William toward the door. ‘You see, it plays into the governor’s hands by confirming his power. I don’t think we want that, do we?’

‘No,’ William said grudgingly. ‘But –’

They moved ahead, with Mordecai following. Escorted by guards toward a door opening into one of several courts, Nick turned to Kerenza. ‘I can’t offer you my arm,’ he murmured. ‘Men and women aren’t allowed to touch in public. But may I walk with you?’

Keeping her head down, Kerenza gave a brief nod. He knew Dulcie was pregnant. But did he know by whom, or the circumstances? He could not. For surely the shame Dulcie’s behaviour reflected on the Vyvyan family would have shown in his eyes. All she had seen was sympathy. But when she told him, as she must, that, far from being violated, Dulcie had welcomed the prince’s advances, his encouragement would turn to dismay and disgust. She would have to watch it happen. Then part of her would die too.

As they walked back through the narrow streets, Kerenza wondered if she would reach Zohra’s house before her legs gave way. Pain skewered into one temple and queasiness churned her stomach.

‘Come on, sweetheart,’ Nick said softly, and the endearment wrenched her heart. ‘You’re doing fine. Once we’re inside, out of this wind, and you have something to eat you’ll feel better.’

Sweetheart.
To call her that now – he would soon wish he had not. Did he really think she’d be able to swallow? That food would make a difference? None of this was his fault. Nor was it hers, but she would pay just the same.

How was she to tell her father? Was the prince really going to marry her sister? She could not believe it. Dulcie couldn’t possibly stay in Tangier alone. Surely she would not be expected to stay with her? Thoughts zigzagged across her mind like flashes of lightning.

Back at the house, Broad was waiting. After brief instructions from Nick, he bore William Vyvyan off upstairs with soothing suggestions of a nice cool drink and an hour’s lie-down before his evening meal.

Ten minutes later, after rinsing her face and hands and trying to prepare to tell Nick the full and terrible truth, Kerenza returned to the salon. Dina had set out glasses of fruit juice and a tray of mint tea. Maggot and Zohra had disappeared. Nick waited until she had sat on the couch then, indicating the seat beside her, raised his brows.

‘May I sit with you? I think it is best we keep our voices down. It will also be easier to talk’

‘As you wish.’ It emerged as a whisper. He would move away soon enough.

Half-turned toward her, forearms resting on his thighs, he cleared his throat, clasping and unclasping his hands. ‘Look, I know this is going to be painful for you.’

A sob caught in her throat and her hand flew to her mouth to smother it.

‘Kerenza –’ He groaned under his breath and, dropping his head, he raked both hands through his hair.

Pulling herself together, she took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry. It’s – I’m all right. I didn’t mean to interrupt. But before we – How did you find out about Dulcie? Who told you?’ She couldn’t meet his gaze. She didn’t want him to see her shame, anger, and grief. Instead, she stared blindly at her white knuckles.

‘While you were with your sister and we were waiting to see the governor, Mulai Aruj took Maggot and me into another room to talk about getting your sister away as soon as possible. Before we can decide how best to do this, I need to know what your sister told you and you have to hear what the prince told me. I’m asking you to trust me.’
Again.
The word hung, unspoken, between them. ‘Can you? Will you?’

Did she have a choice? Despite what he had learnt, and despite her father’s boorish behaviour, he still wanted to help her. She needed him, for who else was there? She raised her head and looked directly into his eyes.

‘Yes. I’m really grateful –’

He jerked backward. ‘I don’t want your gratitude.’ His voice was rough and angry. ‘I want –’ He clamped his lips together and shook his head, then met her gaze once more. ‘Did your sister tell you what happened? How she came to be – in her condition?’

Kerenza felt a wave of heat course from her chest to her hairline. She wet her lips. ‘I thought – assumed – she had been – attacked. But she denies it. She believes Mulai Aruj wants – intends – to marry her.’

Nick stiffened. ‘
What
?’ He rubbed his forehead, his expression reflecting anger, helplessness, and frustration.

Now they had started, and because his reaction had so closely echoed her own, Kerenza found talking about it was not as difficult or as embarrassing as she had feared. She and Nick had already been through so much together on the packet: her father’s drinking, Captain Penrose’s death, and the birth of Judith’s baby.