“I THINK IT looks quite...enjoyable.” Poppy squared her shoulders. “And doing something you’ve never done before is the very definition of the adventure to be found in travel.”
“I’m not sure I expected adventure to have four legs and glare at me.” Effie stared with cautious horror at the donkeys lined up on the street in front of Shepheard’s. The diminutive animals really were rather enchanting with bridles and reins bedecked with colorful cords and dangling bells. Although perhaps not to Effie. “There do seem to be an abundance of cabs. Perhaps we should take one of those?”
“I’ve never been on a donkey before.” Gwen glanced at Sidney. “Wouldn’t a carriage be more appropriate?”
“Not in Cairo,” Sidney said firmly. “This is the only way to see the Arabian quarters of the city. It’s next on the list of sights Miss Granville prepared for us and one of my own personal favorite parts of Cairo.”
“Mine as well,” Harry added.
Sidney continued. “There’s no better way to get a true feel for Egypt than the Arabian quarters and we must manage to see as much as possible in a limited amount of time as Mr. Cadwallender has only given us two weeks in Egypt.”
Effie cast an annoyed look at Harry. “Will that be long enough for you to give up your foolish charge about Mrs. Gordon’s veracity?”
“I should think that will be more than sufficient,” Harry said pleasantly. The man was becoming oblivious to Effie’s continued disregard and today had been as amiable a companion as anyone could want. “Although, I must confess, I regret having a mere two weeks to spend in such delightful company.” He cast Effie a winning smile. For a moment, Sidney could have sworn his teeth flashed in the sun in the manner of any good fictional hero.
“Humph.” Effie turned her attention back to the donkey but it was obvious that she was not completely immune to Harry’s efforts.
Harry hadn’t once complained about the nature of their schedule which did seem to Sidney to be relentless. Still, she had studied guidebooks, including one provided by Shepheard’s, and was prepared to lead her growing band of elderly ladies and donkey boys wherever they wished to go, as long as where they wished to go was on Miss Granville’s schedule of sights. Sidney would hate to have to negotiate Cairo without Miss Granville’s sterling recommendations in hand.
They had begun the day at the Citadel high on a hill in the center of the city, the minarets and domes of the mosques within its confines towering over Cairo, as if aspiring to the heavens themselves. The fortress was built some seven hundred years ago to defend the city from the onslaught of Christian crusaders and was said to have been constructed in part with stones from the small pyramids at Giza, which Sidney did think was something of a shame. Still, one did have to credit the Egyptians for making use of what was at hand.
Within the confines of the Citadel, they visited the Mosque of Muhammad Ali Pasha with its multiple domes, fountains and courtyards. The ladies stared in admiration at the endless hanging lamps and magnificent carpets while also privately speculating if similar items might be found at the markets and wouldn’t something like that look glorious in London? The mosque’s minarets were considered a landmark of Cairo that could be seen from the pyramids and beyond.
The view alone was well worth the visit. One could see all of Cairo, minarets from the more than four hundred mosques in the city rising above the rooftops. In the distance, beyond the confines of modern civilization, the pyramids shimmered in the sunlight, an eternal reminder of the past glories of Egypt and ancient man.
They had then strolled through the lush plantings, ponds and grottos of the Ezbekieh Gardens. It was a lovely way to pause for a moment in their determined pace. The weather was nearly perfect and cooler than Sidney had expected but then it was early February. Everything she’d read recommended winter as the best time of year to visit. She couldn’t imagine how unpleasant it would be to travel Egypt in the height of the summer. They returned to the hotel briefly for a quick lunch. In spite of their age, the older ladies were eager to continue. After all, they were now headed toward the Arabian quarters and the souk, the bazaars of the city. Effie, Gwen and Poppy could scarcely wait to explore the offerings in the quarter and the bargains to be found. Sidney and Harry had both warned them to purchase with caution, especially anything deemed antiquated or historical, as there were often wares of a fraudulent nature, probably made in Europe, and passed off as genuine Egyptian antiquities.
Harry had insisted on hiring a dragoman to guide them through the quarters although Sidney asserted she was more than capable of finding her way around Cairo.
“Surely you don’t object, Mr. Armstrong,” Gwen had said. “Why, what better way for our dear Mrs. Gordon to prove her knowledge of Egypt than by showing us those places she knows and loves?”
Still, Sidney’s protest was halfhearted at best and no one was more relieved than Sidney when she and the ladies graciously agreed to the services of the guide—Hamad, a man even shorter than Sidney, of indeterminate age with coffee-colored skin and a relentless grin who spoke passable English and was overwhelmingly eager to please. He had as well been highly recommended by the hotel. And Harry pointed out, since none of the ladies spoke Arabic, Hamad’s assistance would be necessary as haggling was not merely expected but something of an art.
“Ladies, if you’re ready,” Harry said, gesturing at the waiting donkeys.
Every donkey had its own boy and Harry assisted the young men in maneuvering Sidney’s companions properly into their sidesaddles. Assistance that was sorely needed. The boys were far more patient than was probably warranted as the older ladies were not quite as nimble as they once were and there was much muttering as to “indignity” and “absurdity.” Still, the youths each maintained a determined smile, no doubt with an eye toward the coins they’d receive at the end of the day. By the time Harry finished with the other ladies, Sidney had been assisted into her own saddle. While the thought of him putting his hands around her waist to help her onto the beast was decidedly exciting, it was best to mount the animal before he had a chance to help and notice her inexperience. She’d never even ridden a horse before—she was born and raised in London—but Harry would certainly take her lack of skill as yet another piece of evidence against her. It was only their first full day in Cairo and already she was growing tired of being constantly on guard against mistakes.
“Well, that was certainly fun,” Harry said under his breath, pausing by her donkey, apparently to make certain she was seated correctly.
“Sarcasm, Harry?”
“Not at all.” He smiled. “I find nothing so delightful as assisting old ladies onto the backs of donkeys. Especially as neither the ladies nor the donkeys seemed especially enamored by the idea.”
She laughed.
“It’s not amusing. Did you see the looks on their faces?”
Sidney glanced behind her at the ladies on their respective beasts. Each one wore an expression of trepidation mixed with determination. “They do look a bit concerned. None of them have done this before, you know.”
“You seem to be doing well.” He shrugged. “But then this is not new to you although you’ve said it has been some time.”
“Quite some time,” she said without thinking.
“I must say, the fairer sex is hardier than they are given credit for.” He shook his head. “I could never ride a sidesaddle.”
“One does what one must for the sake of propriety,” Sidney said with a lighthearted tone. “But I agree. A regular saddle is much easier and far more comfortable. Frankly, I prefer it.”
“You’ve ridden astride, then?”
“It’s not always easy to find an appropriate saddle when one is exploring the less traveled parts of Egypt.” She waved off the comment in a blithe manner.
“No, of course not.” He glanced around. “I gather Mr. Corbin is not joining us for this expedition?”
“I’m afraid not.” Daniel had accompanied them to the Citadel but aside from remarking on the view, had not seemed especially interested in the history or the architecture. Nor had he enjoyed the mosques or the gardens. “He received a telegram from Mr. Cadwallender about a notable American staying at the hotel. Daniel is to find the man and interview him. It will take him most of today if not tomorrow as well.”
“Pity he’ll miss today’s excursion.” The satisfied look on Harry’s face said better than words that he didn’t think it was at all a pity but was rather glad Daniel would not be a member of their party. Sidney did tend to agree with him. “Let’s get on with it, then.” He nodded and started off, then turned back. “Oh, and when I mentioned the looks on their faces—” he leaned closer “—I wasn’t talking about the ladies.” He grinned and strode off to his waiting donkey.
Sidney returned his grin. Harry Armstrong was indeed becoming a great deal of fun. Something had happened to his, well, his demeanor since their arrival in Cairo. He was far nicer than he had been and more casual, more relaxed perhaps and while he’d never shown any particular lack of confidence, somehow, he did seem more sure of himself today. As if this was his natural element. Goodness, she did need to find out more about the man. Her smile faded. Misleading Harry was becoming increasingly difficult as well. The more she liked him, the more uneasy and even guilty she became. The result, no doubt, of a conscience that had rarely made itself known as it had rarely needed to. Still, it couldn’t he helped.
They traveled in single file—Harry and Hamad at the head of their group followed by Sidney and the ladies. The boys trotted by the side of their animals or behind depending on the traffic. There were all sorts of interesting things to see on the streets of Cairo as they made their way to the Arabian quarters although Sidney spent most of her time simply trying to stay on her sidesaddle while maintaining an air of competence. It was dreadfully difficult. Especially since the donkey boys insisted on urging their charges to a faster pace whenever traffic allowed. Sidney didn’t dare look back to see how the ladies were faring. It was all she could do to hold on herself. Although Harry might have had it a bit tougher, in spite of his saddle, as his height meant his legs dangled no more than half a foot above the street. It was a most amusing sight.
In no time at all—or perhaps an eternity—they passed through an ancient stone gate and into the Arabian quarters. The streets here narrowed considerably and there was barely enough room for their mounts amidst the crowds swelling around them. Here, they slowed to a walk. Even so it was difficult to take in the details of their surroundings as there was so very much to see: men in turbans of varying colors and long robes, merchants hawking their wares, women in veils and gowns, most in shades of blue, revealing nothing of their faces but their eyes rimmed in dark kohl, bracelets and bangles on their arms. The passageways were covered high overhead with awnings against the afternoon sun. Lattice-enclosed balconies jutted over their heads, narrowing the streets, concealing family residences or perhaps harems. Scents assailed her, intriguing and mysterious—of man and beast, leather and tobacco and coffee, enticing perfumes and unknown spices.
They made their way through the markets for a brief time before Sidney’s donkey boy halted her mount.
“I’ve had quite enough.” Effie’s voice rang out behind her.
Sidney turned to see Effie awkwardly sliding off her donkey. Poppy and Gwen followed her lead and the three made their way to Sidney’s side.
“It seems to me we can make much better progress on foot,” Effie said firmly. “As apparently every resident of Cairo has chosen today to frequent the markets.”
“There are all sorts of interesting shops we would like to stop in and we can’t do it from the back of a donkey,” Poppy added.
“We’ve seen countless Europeans on foot here,” Gwen said. “There’s no reason for us not to do the same.”
There were probably any number of reasons why this was not a good idea but Sidney couldn’t think of any at the moment. And she too would prefer to dispense with the donkeys. “Very well.”
Sidney slid off her donkey, delighted to have her feet back on solid ground but surprisingly stiff after the short ride.
“Ladies.” Harry joined them. “Imagine my surprise when I looked back to discover you have all abandoned your rides.”
“Nor do we intend to remount them.” Gwen’s jaw set in a stubborn manner.
Poppy nodded. “And, unless memory fails, Sidney has written several scenes in the souk. With her guidance and Hamad’s and of course yours, what can possibly go wrong?”
“What indeed,” Sidney said weakly. Although any number of things did go wrong in those pages Poppy had mentioned, including abductions and being chased by thieves or other villains.
“Do be a good sort, Harry, and send the boys and their beasts on their way. And pay them handsomely for their troubles.” Effie waved at the line of waiting donkeys and their eager handlers. “Hamad,” Effie called and headed toward the dragoman, Gwen and Poppy right behind her.
Harry stared after them. “She called me Harry.”
“She does seem to be softening toward you.”
“Lucky me.”
Sidney smiled. “I call you Harry.”
“Not always but I treasure those moments when you do.”
There was something quite nice about his admission. “Then I shall call you by your given name from now on. But only if you call me Sidney.”
“I’ve called you Sidney on occasion.”
“But not with my permission,” she said loftily. “Now you have it.”
“Excellent.” He grinned, then his expression sobered and he glanced at the ladies. “Is this a good idea?”
“I don’t know.” Sidney shook her head. “But I daresay I can’t stop them. As long as we all stay together, we should be fine.”
“Probably.” The dubious note in Harry’s voice belied his words. “I’ll see to paying the boys. Don’t wander off without me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Harry stepped away, apparently planning to start at the far end of their line of donkeys. But once the boys realized he intended to pay them, they clustered around him chattering without pause, hands held out for payment. Which did seem to attract others, beggars or simply opportunists who saw an Englishman handing out money and suspected he wouldn’t notice one more outstretched hand.
Sidney looked around for her friends. The ladies were already farther down the narrow street than Sidney would have liked. She would soon lose them in the crowd if she hesitated. Harry had told her to wait for him but there really was no choice. She hurried after the others. Good God, they were unexpectedly quick for their age. Obviously the lure of unusual wares for purchase and bargains to be found was not to be denied. Fortunately, the shops were not shops so much as they were stalls, so it was difficult for anyone to completely disappear from sight. The merchants themselves sat on their counters or on cushions low to the ground, their merchandise piled on either side and behind them.
Led by Hamad, the ladies pushed their way through the turbulent crowds, skirting around donkeys, occasional water carriers, auctioneers holding their offerings high overhead, beggars and other determined shoppers. Apparently, they had given Hamad a definite destination as there was no hesitation in their relentless forward progress. Sidney looked back but couldn’t spot Harry in the crowd and did hope he would be able to locate them. Regardless, it was up to her to make certain everyone stayed within sight. Without warning, the ladies turned into another street. Sidney managed to reach the corner no more than a few seconds later. She knew specific goods were available on specific streets and this was apparently the street of leather workers. The rich earthy scent of freshly tanned leather hung in the air. The stalls were filled with saddles of any type one could imagine and others completely unique—saddles for military cavalry or for the grandest of princes, embossed with gold or silver and sidesaddles for ladies. Here were saddles obviously intended for donkeys next to the wood and leather saddles designed for camels. She’d never considered how many colors leather could be but here were hides of the palest golden tan and deep, rich reds and browns of every conceivable shade. It was nearly impossible not to stare at the finely wrought creations but Sidney was certain if she took her eyes off her friends for so much as an instant they would no doubt vanish in the crowd. They were already farther in front of her than she would have preferred. And where on earth was Harry? She couldn’t keep track of everyone by herself. It was like trying to herd creatures who absolutely refused to be herded.
Far too far ahead, she spotted the feather of Effie’s hat bobbing over the crowd, and then turning into the next street. Sidney picked up her pace but the crowded passageway made it impossible to progress with any significant speed. She turned into the street where she’d seen Effie head and paused but couldn’t spot the old dear.
Still, there was no need to panic. Millicent Forester would never panic under these or any circumstances. Surely the ladies still had Hamad with them and surely he could be trusted to make certain no harm came to them. Unless, of course, he wasn’t the decent sort he had appeared. Unless his sole purpose was to gain the trust of unsuspecting Englishwomen and then spirit them away to God knows where. Why, anything could happen to them. They could be kidnapped and carried off to a harem. Now she was being silly. They were too old to be desired for a harem. Still, they could be abducted and held for ransom. That too was absurd. The ladies did not look shabby but they certainly didn’t look wealthy either. They looked like exactly what they were—elderly, English tourists. If Sidney stayed calm and rational, she would certainly find them. Yesterday, on the terrace, they had talked about purchases they wished to make. What precisely had they said? Sidney did wish she had paid more attention. Carpets had been mentioned as well as silks and tapestries. Someone had said something about copper teapots. Someone else had mentioned a desire for silver earbobs. There was talk of assorted souvenirs—antiquities and the like. Good heavens, they could be anywhere.
She drew a deep breath and continued forward, jostled constantly by the flowing crowed. She peered into one stall after another, ignoring the temptations of foreign and fascinating goods as well as the appeals of the merchants—frequently in broken English—offering madam an excellent bargain.
If anything happened to them—her heart clenched at the thought—she would never forgive herself. This was her fault. Those sweet old friends were only here because of her. She should have followed her instincts right at the beginning. In spite of what Mr. Cadwallender said she should have insisted on clearing up the public misunderstanding about her work being fictional. She should have faced the consequences then, regardless of how devastating they might have been. If she had, Harry’s uncle wouldn’t have challenged her. They wouldn’t be in Egypt. And Effie, Gwen and Poppy would be safe at home, where they belonged.
She darted down one street and then another. Past stalls of ornate slippers of velvets and silks, brightly colored with curved toes and beading and tassels. She turned into a street of carpet sellers, with rugs and carpets rolled or hanging, the designs intricate and glorious. She rushed through streets of tobacco and cigar merchants, others with coffees and sweetmeats and finally realized she was retracing her steps. And there was every possibility she was just as lost as her friends.
Sidney had no idea how much time had passed. Surely no more than an hour or two. Time had lost all meaning. Her world was an endless blur of stalls and uncommon merchandise and captivating people, of bright colors and foreign languages, of odd and enticing smells. This was not getting her anywhere. She’d been roaming the endless streets of the souk for what seemed like all eternity. She had no idea where she was. What she needed was a plan. Perhaps she should return to the hotel, if she could make her way out of the markets. If she could find the Muski, the main street that ran through the markets, she would be able to get her bearings and then find the hotel. Surely someone there could help her.
“Where have you been?” Harry’s outraged voice behind her jerked her attention.
She whirled to face him, her relief at seeing him again dashed away by the tone in his voice and the look on his face. “Where have I been? Where have you been?”
“For the last two and a half hours I’ve been trying to find you.” His jaw clenched. “I thought you understood you were to wait for me.”
“I did. They—” she gestured wildly “—did not.”
“They?” He looked around. “The old ladies?”
“Yes!”
“They’re not with you?”
“Obviously not.”
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know!”
Harry stared. “You lost them?”
“I don’t know if I lost them or they lost me. I was turned around, confused if you will. This is a most confusing place.” This could very well be blamed on Harry. If he hadn’t taken so long dealing with the donkey boys, they might all still be together now. A voice in the back of her head noted she wasn’t being entirely fair. She didn’t care. “The point is that they, we, are lost.”
“How could you let this happen?”
“How could I let this happen?” She glared at him. Any thoughts about his newfound agreeable nature vanished in a wave of anger. “How could you?”
“I told you—”
“What was I supposed to do? They are grown women. It’s not as if I could put a little bell around their necks like a donkey!”
“You could have tried!”
“I tried to keep my eye on them but they were too—”
“Fast?” His brow shot upward. “They’re old ladies!”
“They’re spry. And determined.” For the first time she noticed the crowd had thinned as those passing by skirted around them, trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the squabbling foreigners. She crossed her arms over her chest. “And there’s no need to yell.”
“There’s every need to yell!” He drew a deep breath and it was obvious he was trying to muster some semblance of calm.
“They are not your responsibility.”
“Of course they are.” He shook his head in disbelief. “If we return without them, who do you think will be held accountable?”
“Me!”
“Hardly.” He scoffed. “You’re the bloody Queen of the Desert! You’re practically beloved. No one will blame you for anything. I’ll be the one at fault. The man is always the one held accountable.”
“Well, perhaps if the man had been more conscientious—”
His jaw tightened. “I told you—”
“Mr. Armstrong?” A disembodied hand tapped him on the shoulder. “Mrs. Gordon.” Hamad peered around Harry and smiled. “I am so pleased to have found you.”
“Hamad!” Sidney held her breath. “Do you know where the other ladies are?”
“Of course.” The Egyptian’s smile widened. “And I have been sent to find you.”
“Good man, Hamad.” Relief echoing her own sounded in Harry’s voice. “Are they all right?”
“They are very good, sir.”
“Thank God,” Sidney murmured. “How long have you been looking for me? For us?”
“Only a very few minutes, madam.”
“He knows his way around the markets,” Harry said pointedly.
She clenched her teeth. “Things change over the years!”
“Not in Egypt!”
Hamad cleared his throat. “If you would be so good as to follow me. The ladies are waiting.”
“Excellent.” She raised her chin and started after Hamad, Harry a step behind.
The man was a beast, that’s what he was. How had she ever thought, even for a moment, that he was anything like Richard Weatherly. Certainly they bore a certain physical similarity, nothing more than coincidence really, but Richard was a figment of her imagination. Harry was entirely too real. Richard was heroic and daring and dashing. Harry had misplaced a group of helpless women in a market and now acted as if she was somehow to blame. Once again, that annoying voice in her head murmured this wasn’t entirely his fault. Once again, she ignored it.
They walked no more than ten minutes before reaching a coffee merchant’s stall. Hamad nodded to the man sitting serenely on the counter and led the way to the back of the stall, pulling aside a heavy curtain and allowing Sidney to precede him. The interior was dim and heavily shadowed. Sidney had the impression of lush fabrics hanging on the walls. The scents of cardamom and coriander and cinnamon wafted through the air.
“Oh good, Hamad found you,” Poppy said brightly. She and the others were seated on cushions on the floor around a low brass-topped table accompanied by an Egyptian in European dress. “You’re just in time for tea.”