Page 7

Accommodations and Expectations

T he following day

As Nabil piloted his felucca between the hazards of the slow moving Nile, Harry, Earl of Everly, struggled to read a letter he had been carrying with him since their departure from London.

“It appears I am no longer able to read French,” he grumbled, his gaze going to his wife.

Ensconced on her lap, their year-old son blabbered with excitement while Stella watched the scenery.

“Would you like me to try?” she asked, reaching out to capture the brittle paper when he offered it to her.

She had to hold it out beyond the reach of Bradley, who immediately took interest and wanted it for himself.

“Come here, you little troublemaker,” Helen said, moving from the other side of the felucca to take her brother into her arms, careful to duck her head under the bottom edge of the single sail that propelled the sailing vessel up the Nile.

Happy to join his older sister, Bradley continued to babble incoherently before ending his sentence with “dada”.

Harry chuckled softly. “I do wonder if we’ll ever know what he’s trying to say,” he murmured.

“Well, I can tell you what Monsieur Jacques LaSalle is trying to say in his letter,” Stella said, holding up the missive that included seven creases and looked as if it had taken a trip around the world, been dunked in a cup of tea, and been stomped on by a pair of riding boots before its delivery to their townhouse in Mayfair.

“Oh, good. Do enlighten me,” Harry replied in a pleading voice.

“It’s not your French, darling, but rather his poor penmanship,” Stella remarked.

She held up the letter and recited, “Upon your arrival in Cairo on or around the fifteenth of February, your guide, Monsieur Nabil Al-Maghrabi, whom you shall meet in Alexandria on or around the third of February (given the current schedule of the ship you wish to take from London), knows to send word to me via courier upon your arrival so that I may meet you at the dock in Cairo and arrange transport to my...” Here she paused and shook her head. “I don’t recognize this word ‘ riad ’.”

“Oh, I know what that is,” Helen piped up before her brows furrowed. “It’s the Moroccan word for house .” Her face displayed confusion. “But I don’t know why he would call it that for a house in Cairo.”

“LaSalle’s house is no doubt of better construction than what we’ll usually be seeing on this journey,” her father commented. “He probably had the wood shipped in from Anatolia or Venice and the tile from Rome. He is a man of considerable wealth.”

“How did you even learn of him?” Stella asked.

“He was recommended by someone at White’s. They said he frequently hosts the bureaucrats that travel back and forth between India and England.” He waved to the missive. “Does he mention anything else in his letter?”

She nodded and resumed reading aloud. “Your request for accommodations comes at a rather popular time for tourists it would seem, for I have already made arrangements for another family from England to stay at the riad .”

Here, Stella paused when Helen gasped with excitement. Her face reddening when she realized both parents were staring at her, she said, “Oh, please, do go on.”

Stella hesitated reading aloud, though, and instead read in silence before she made a strange sound in her throat. “It seems we are to share the accommodations in Cairo but that the riad is quite large with more than enough bedchambers and servants to see to our comfort.”

“Hmpf,” Harry replied, his manner suggesting he wasn’t pleased with the arrangements. “Does he say anything else?”

“He wishes us safe travels and looks forward to meeting us in Cairo,” Stella replied. “Where he will introduce us to the dragoman ...” She glanced up, her expression conveying confusion. “What does that word mean?”

“The guide he mentioned earlier in the letter. A dragoman is an interpreter as well as a guide. He’ll know English and Arabic and the routes we should take,” Harry explained.

“Oh,” she breathed. She continued where she left off in the letter. “The dragoman will take us to the pyramids at Giza and arrange for another to take to us to Memphis, should we wish to go to the necropolis located there.” Here she screwed up her face in a grimace. “Necropolis?”

“Memphis was the site of many tombs and pyramids,” Harry explained. “All of which were burial sites for the early pharaohs—the kings of Egypt.”

“And the queens,” Helen chimed in.

Her father chuckled. “Yes, the queens, too.”

“What of the weather? Shouldn’t it be raining this time of the year?” Stella asked, her gaze going to the cloudless sky.

From where he was manning the rudder at the back of the felucca, Nabil said, “This is our rainy season, my lady.” He waved. “Tonight I will be sure your tent is well away from the river as I expect it is raining upstream.” He pointed south. “In Nubia. We may have rain this evening.”

Stella glanced south and then turned to face the north. “This makes no sense,” she said, her attention going to the river.

“That’s because the Nile flows in the wrong direction,” Helen replied. “It starts somewhere south of Egypt and flows north until it reaches the delta and the Mediterranean Sea.”

“Lady Helen has the right of it,” Nabil said. “And you will be very welcome at Monsieur LaSalle’s riad . Very large. Very elegant. Even if it doesn’t have a roof.”

“What’s this?” Stella asked in alarm. “No roof?”

“No roof over the courtyard, Mother,” Helen explained. “But the courtyard probably has a tile floor, where the water is captured in a drain for use in the garden.”

Stella glanced at her husband, who shrugged. “She has the right of it,” Harry said. “I am most excited about the prospect of finding a new hibiscus plant.”

“Oh, Monsieur LaSalle wrote about it at the end of the letter,” she said, returning her attention to the missive she still held.

“I didn’t recognize the word at first.” She used a forefinger to follow the written words before reciting, “The flower you seek is in the garden of the riad . There are many plants, mostly with red blooms. Should you require to uproot one for your needs, please do plant a piece of it in its place. Or you may decide there is a more desirable specimen on your travels. They are quite common. Do enjoy the tea. Regards, Jacques LaSalle.”

“Enjoy the tea?” Helen repeated. “That seems like an odd way of ending a letter.”

Nabil cleared his throat. “I do not mean to eavesdrop,” he said from the back of the felucca. “Monsieur LaSalle is referring to hibiscus tea. A favorite among the Egyptian people. It was the tea of the pharaohs.”

Stella gasped. “I do believe I’ve had hibiscus tea in London,” she said. “Red, is it not?”

“Indeed,” Nabil replied. “Good for digestion. I have some in our stores on board. I will serve it after dinner if you would like.”

“That would be most welcome,” Stella said. She turned her gaze on her husband. “I do wonder with whom we will be sharing the riad ,” she murmured.

“Well, if they’re English, at least we’ll be able to converse should they be of a mind to do so,” Harry commented.

“Oh, I’m quite sure they will,” Helen said, her gaze on her younger brother. She bussed him on the forehead, which sent him into a fit of giggles. The two resumed the clapping game she had been attempting to teach him ever since they left Alexandria.

Her father furrowed a brow before he turned to Stella. “Is there something you need to tell me?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

Stella shook her head. “I’m quite sure I don’t know who she is talking about,” she whispered. “I was hoping you might know.”

He shrugged before his face displayed a curious expression.

“What is it?”

Hesitating, as if he couldn’t trust his conclusion, Harry chuckled softly. “Do you recall meeting the Earl and Countess of Bellingham at the Morganfield ball? He is Devonville’s heir?” he clarified. When she didn’t appear to remember, he added, “A few months before you gave birth to my spare heir?”

Stella considered the query for a moment before her eyes widened. “Barbara,” she whispered. “She was the Earl of Greenley’s daughter… sister now, of course,” she corrected. “She was about to leave for the Mediterranean with her sons and nephews. For their Grand Tour,” she added with excitement.

Harry chuckled softly, his attention going back to his daughter and young son. “Remind me to tell you the rest of what I know tonight,” he whispered, his manner suddenly secretive.

Scoffing softly, Stella seemed about to put voice to a complaint, but Nabil spoke before she had a chance.

“If you would be so good as to direct your attention to the south, you will see something of interest in the distance.”

Even Bradley turned his head to see what their guide indicated when the felucca suddenly veered toward the southeastern bank of the Nile.

“The pyramids at Giza!” Helen exclaimed, standing and hoisting her brother onto her hip so she could move closer to the starboard side of the sailing vessel.

“You know of them?” Nabil asked in surprise.

“Of course. Ever since we decided to take this trip, I have read everything I could about Egypt,” she replied, never taking her eyes from the three triangles barely visible on the horizon.

Harry and Stella exchanged curious glances before they turned their attention to the pyramids. “How far away are those?” he asked.

“Twenty miles as a bird flies,” Nabil replied. “By the Nile...” He shrugged. “Five-and-twenty?”

“So... we only have one more day on the river?” Helen asked with excitement.

“Indeed. We will camp near here,” Nabil announced, apparently a cue for his young assistant to see to taking down the sail.

“And tomorrow, we shall arrive in Cairo.” The felucca coasted toward the shore, where an ancient dock bobbed in the water.

Within a few minutes, the Tennisons were on the shore and making their way to higher ground for a longer look at the pyramids.

Helen’s attention wasn’t on the ancient monuments, though, but rather back on the river.

If everything worked the way she hoped, two months of careful planning was about to be rewarded.

Knowing her father would wish to camp along the river rather than make the trek to Cairo directly, she had suggested a modified schedule for their family to follow in the hopes their arrival in Cairo would coincide with the arrival of the Bellinghams.

Although she didn’t know the exact schedule of when the Bellinghams and their son and nephews would arrive in Egypt, she had an approximate itinerary thanks to Cherise, Marchioness of Devonville.

The grandmother of Tom Forster was more than happy to share what she knew when she hosted them for tea a few days before their departure from England.

Including where they were to stay.

She gave her brother a kiss on his forehead, grinning as she contemplated seeing Tom again.