Lady Emily's Exotic Journey (8 page)

Julia seemed to understand. At least she smiled reassuringly at Mélisande. “I am sure we will have much to learn from each other.”

Mélisande, on the other hand, looked both uncertain and resentful. He had thought this was what she wanted, but he might be wrong.

“My English, she is not good,” she blurted out.

“Then we will speak in French,” said Emily, switching smoothly to that language. “And perhaps you will be able to help us with our Arabic. Come, Julia, let us go upstairs.”

He watched with satisfaction mixed with frustration as the two English ladies swept Mélisande out of sight. He had known Emily would treat the child kindly. Throughout their journey she had always been curious about other people, concerned about their feelings, and he was pleased by the understanding of Mélisande's needs that she showed.

Still, he was annoyed that he had not even had a chance to speak to Emily, that she had not tried to speak to him. It bothered him that he was annoyed, but it also bothered him that he felt pride in seeing her kindness. There was something proprietary about the feeling, and that made him uneasy. He had no business having proprietary feelings about any woman, especially not Emily. Lady Emily. The journey was over. They were no longer comrades. It would be best if he began once more to think of her as Lady Emily.

Lady Penworth's voice broke in on his thoughts once more. “Please sit down and join me, M. Chambertin.”

He accepted a cup of tea, not without trepidation. He was not sure what she wanted to discuss.

“You need not worry about Mlle. Carnac. We will take good care of her.”

“She could not be in better hands, I know.”

“M. Carnac does not seem to greatly concern himself with his daughter.” The statement was really a question.

“He is much occupied with his work, you see.” That was an explanation, he supposed, but judging from her raised brow, he doubted that Lady Penworth considered it an excuse. He did not consider it such himself.

“Dedication to one's work is doubtless to be admired,” she said as if she did not believe a word of it.

“If I may say something…” He hesitated, but when she offered no objection, he plunged in. “The dinner you are planning, it might be best if you do not include Mr. and Mrs. Rassam.”

“Why ever not? The Rassams are the only people we know here and have been very helpful to us.”

“There has been much competition between the English and the French concerning the excavations here at Kouyunjik, the palace of Ashurbanipal, and at Dur-Sharrukin, the palace of Sargon. The mound of Kouyunjik was divided between them, and Hormuzd Rassam, the brother of this Mr. Rassam, was working on the English section. He grew impatient with his lack of success, and since the French were not, at the moment, working on the mound, he transferred his attentions to the French section.”

“Ah,” said Lady Penworth, “I am beginning to see. This Hormuzd had some success?”

“An entire room covered with bas-relief, in most excellent condition, and narrating a lengthy story of warfare. In addition, there were hundreds of clay tablets that promise much information.”

“And where are these treasures now?”

Lucien raised his hands in a resigned gesture. “In the British Museum.”

She laughed softly. “Oh dear. I gather that M. Carnac holds this against our Mr. Rassam?”

“He does not forgive what he sees as theft, stealing the glory that should belong to the French. It does not matter to him that this Mr. Rassam had nothing to do with his brother's activities and shows no interest in the excavations.”

“In that case, I doubt either of them would enjoy dining together. I will refrain from putting the cat among the pigeons this time.”

As the time for the dinner neared, Lucien was plagued by conflicting emotions. He wanted a chance to speak with Emily, Lady Emily. Did he look forward to this too much? It could not be that he missed riding beside her, having her to talk with during the day, he told himself.

Ah, of course he missed it. Why deny it? But surely he could put that out of his mind. The journey was over. She would soon be returning to her life in England, and he would soon continue his travels. No, he wanted to speak with her to thank her for her attention to Mélisande. That was it.

That attention had obviously been to good effect. When it was time to leave for the dinner, he had scarcely recognized Mélisande. Today her brown hair, tied back from her face with a ribbon, fell straight down her back with no ringlets. She wore the same dress she had worn for their visit yesterday—at least he thought it was the same dress. It was the same color, but it seemed to have lost all its ornamentation and looked the better for it. She appeared before him looking uncertain, but beamed when he told her how charming she looked.

Carnac did not look charming, but then he never did. Annoyed, resentful, disgruntled—any of these usual expressions, but not charming. Lucien had been forced to spend a good half hour convincing the man that he should not begin by demanding that Lord Penworth finance his excavations.

“But he is rich, you said,” Carnac protested. “Why should he not spend his money on something of value instead of on fripperies for his silly wife?”

“Do not, I pray you, insult his wife. She is not at all a silly woman, and Lord Penworth is most fond of her.”

Carnac snorted in disgust. “Women are all foolish, and men who indulge them are fools as well.”

It was pointless to argue with Carnac on this subject. Lucien concentrated on trying to persuade the man that the most effective tactic would be to invite Lord Penworth to see the excavations and to view the carvings that had been uncovered, just waiting for transport to France—or to England, if that should prove necessary. Then when Penworth expressed interest, a request for funding could be made. Lucien thought it prudent to suppress his doubt that any great interest would be shown, but he also doubted that Carnac would be able to make a request rather than a demand.

A grudging consent was the best Lucien could get, and he felt worn out by the time they departed. Carnac charged ahead, leaving Lucien to take care of Mélisande. The girl took his arm in ladylike fashion, and when he looked down to compliment her, she looked up at him through her lashes with a shy smile.

Bon
dieu!
Was she trying to flirt? This was not at all her normal behavior, and he could not believe that Emily had suggested such a thing. Emily did not flirt. Was it Lady Julia's suggestion? Mélisande was a child, much too young for that sort of behavior. He tugged her along in her father's wake, hurrying enough so they all arrived together.

* * *

Emily felt shy. This was ridiculous, she knew. She never felt shy. Nonetheless, she had felt shy yesterday when Lucien—M. Chambertin—arrived, too shy to even speak with him, and she felt shy now as well, seeing him standing there in the courtyard with her parents. Everyone else was down there already, and she was not sure why she lingered up on the balcony, but linger she did.

What was it about him that made her feel this way? The moment she had heard his voice, her heart had started beating faster and she had run up here to try to recover herself before she had to speak to him. Half-hidden behind a pillar, she watched him as he greeted her parents with perfect courtesy, introducing M. Carnac and his daughter to Papa.

What was it about him? He was not terribly handsome. Mr. Oliphant was far better looking. Even her brothers back home were handsomer—and taller as well. His hair was still too long, and his nose was still too long as well. He did not cut a heroic figure. He was no Hercules, although she had discovered that his slim figure was surprisingly well muscled. And his smile transformed his face. It did not make him handsome, but it made you want to share his excitement, his enjoyment of the world.

At the moment he seemed on edge, darting glances around the courtyard. Was he looking for her? He stilled suddenly, then turned and looked up, straight at her, almost as if he had felt her eyes on him. She could not move, as if trapped in his gaze, until finally he took a step toward her. That set her free, and she hurried downstairs to join them all.

She felt shy again when she reached them, and she stopped at her mother's side. He was still looking at her and smiled uncertainly. She managed to smile back the same way, but then his smile broadened, and so did hers, until they were both smiling broadly and happily, and it was as it had been on the journey across the mountains. He was Lucien, and they were friends again. Copains
.

Except that there was an awareness that had not been there before, a physical awareness, and a desire to
touch
him. This was some sort of madness. She shook her head to clear it. She was not going to think about that. She must not think about the way his nearness made her feel. What she needed was a cooling drink, but there was none at hand.

Instead she tried to concentrate on the others. Julia and David were standing off to the side, engrossed in each other as usual. Had he said anything to Julia yet? Made any sort of declaration? It was odd, now that she thought about it. He was an extraordinarily handsome man, and in her experience, good-looking men tended to be all too arrogantly certain of their charms. Yet he seemed almost diffident.

Was it because his mother was an Arab? Really, that simply made him more interesting, exotic. Although now that she thought about it, there probably were some people back home who would be difficult. Stupid people, but they could be upsetting if you were sensitive, she supposed. But Julia certainly wouldn't care. She had her own uncertainties.

Did they need a further prod? She started to step toward them but decided this was not the best setting for a prod.

M. Carnac, on the other hand, was not diffident in the slightest. He was simply ignoring Mama completely and devoting all his attention to Papa. This was not endearing him to either of her parents.

“It is useless. I tried to tell him, but he does not listen.” Lucien was standing beside Emily, looking down with a rueful smile.

“He seems determined enough. What is it that he wants so badly?”

“Money.” Shock must have shown in her face, because he laughed softly before he continued. “No, he is not greedy, that one. He wants money for his excavations, for his studies. He concludes that since your Papa is here, he must be a wealthy man and must therefore be willing to contribute to the cause of scholarship.”

“He is a very foolish man if he thinks that he can convince my father of anything by being rude to my mother.”

“I am afraid my father, he says that women are of no importance.” Mélisande had joined them.

The child was looking a bit woebegone, which was understandable if she had been ignored, so Emily smiled at her and switched to French. “You are looking very pretty this evening.” And that was perfectly true. The girl had obviously taken Julia's strictures to heart and was dressed with a simplicity that suited her young years.

“Thank you. It was kind of you and Lady Julia to help me. I must learn how to dress so that I will not be ashamed when I go to school in Paris.”

“Is that where you are from? Paris?”

“Not I myself, you know. I have been always here, since I was a small baby. But my mother, she was from Paris, and she told me much about it, how wonderful it is, how beautiful, and all the elegant people. Ah, I shall be so happy to be there at last.” A look of blissful anticipation spread over Mélisande's face.

Emily could not help feeling doubtful that anything, even Paris, could live up to the girl's expectations, but she said, “Yes, it is a very beautiful city.”

Lucien looked as if he was about to express doubts as well, but he was forestalled by a loud exclamation of pleasure from Carnac. He had extracted a promise from Lord Penworth to visit the excavation in three days' time.

“You will accompany Lord Penworth and show him the way,
non
, Lucien?” Carnac beamed satisfaction.

“And my family,” added Lord Penworth dryly.

“Of course, of course.” Carnac waved a dismissive hand.

“Do not worry. I will be there too,” Mélisande whispered to Emily. “It is boring, but I can show you and Lady Julia where we can sit in comfort and drink mint tea.”

On that note, the party moved into the dining room.

Whoever had arranged the furnishings of this house for them had judged things very well, Emily concluded. The house itself was an Arab house, with draperies and rugs and cushions everywhere, all creating an air of Oriental luxury. At the same time there were chairs to sit on and a table to eat off with plates and cutlery to conform with European habits and comfort. They had all eaten with their fingers from a common dish on their journey to this place, but Emily could not deny that she found it more comfortable to eat with a fork from her own plate and to sit in a chair, rather than cross-legged on a cushion.

The chef had apparently decided to impress them with his skills. Dinner began with a variety of pickled vegetables, tiny meatballs, and a salad that seemed to be composed of minced herbs. That was followed by a stew of lamb and vegetables served over rice, all of it seasoned with unfamiliar spices of wonderful fragrance. She savored each mouthful.

M. Carnac, on the other hand, seemed totally indifferent to the food, which he shoveled into his mouth almost unconsciously. Her parents kept trying to keep the conversation general, aided by David and Lucien, but M. Carnac kept trying to drag it back to his excavations. He did manage to bring total silence to the table with a remark about slavery.

The silence was so total that he even noticed it himself and paused with a forkful of rice suspended midair. “What is the matter?” he demanded.

“Ah, you mentioned slavery,” said Lord Penworth. “But I was under the impression that the sultan was endeavoring to bring it to an end.”

Carnac shrugged dismissively. “What the sultan wants may have importance in Constantinople. This far away, it signifies little. Oh, there may not be as many Greek or Circassian children as there once were in the slave markets, but there are plenty of Africans. Most buy their household servants that way.”

Lady Penworth gasped and looked hastily around the room, as did Julia and Emily. Suddenly the meal did not seem quite so delicious, and the house itself lost charm.

“No, no, do not worry,” Mr. Oliphant assured them. “Even if Mr. Rassam would tolerate it, he knew that you would not.”

“My father does not employ slaves either,” put in Mélisande.

While the English party looked relieved at this, Emily noticed that Lucien greeted that remark with a slightly cynical look.

“Indeed, no,” said Carnac. “It is not worth it. There are seasons when it is impossible to dig, and it is better to have workers who can be dismissed when there is nothing for them to do. Slaves have to be fed and housed even when they are useless.” He returned to his meal, oblivious to the shocked looks directed at him.

By the time the Carnac party left—and Emily had the impression that Lucien had done his best to hurry them out—everyone was feeling exhausted.

Lady Penworth heaved a sigh. “I must say that I find M. Carnac's conversation a bit difficult to sustain.”

“We need not visit his excavations, my dear, if you would prefer to avoid him. I will make our excuses.” Lord Penworth looked at his wife with concern.

“Nonsense,” she said. “Do you think I have traveled all this way, and crossed those dreadful mountains, to finally reach one of the most remarkable sites on earth, only to be put off by one disagreeable old cross-patch?” She reached up to pat her husband on the cheek. “Besides, I feel certain that M. Carnac will wish to speak only to you, so the suffering will be all yours. The rest of us can be guided by M. Chambertin. He may not be as knowledgeable as M. Carnac, but we are none of us scholars, so that will not matter.”

“We will need Mr. Oliphant's company as well, will we not?” Emily asked innocently, with an eye on Julia.

“Of course,” said Lady Penworth. “One never knows when one will need to have a puzzling communication translated.”

* * *

Rather to the Penworths' surprise, Lucien and Mélisande appeared the next day with a note from M. Carnac putting off the visit to the excavation for a week. Asked about it, Mélisande shrugged indifferently and went to seek out Lady Julia. It was left to Lucien to explain that M. Carnac had uncovered something that he considered extraordinary and wanted to be able to display it to them properly.

That was not much of an explanation. Lucien acknowledged as much. However, since Lady Penworth was curious but far from desperate to see the excavation, and no one else displayed more than tepid interest, the explanation sufficed. Lord Penworth had more than enough to occupy him, interviewing merchants and officials and examining records, with Oliphant beside him to translate. Lady Penworth decided to explore the bazaars and enlisted Lucien's aid in this endeavor.

Mélisande attached herself to Julia and Emily, rather like a leech, Emily thought. She peppered them with questions about fashion and etiquette, and had quickly decided to take Julia for her model rather than Emily. Emily was startled at first—she was not accustomed to being snubbed—but after a moment's thought she was relieved. Mélisande's every utterance began with, “When I am in Paris…” The girl's lack of interest in anything that did not affect her was childish and irritating.

After four days of this, when Mélisande had finally departed without the invitation to dine that she had been angling for, Emily and Julia retreated to the roof. The sun was low enough so that the day had begun to cool off, and there was a pleasant breeze up on the roof.