Daughter of the God-King(21)
She twisted a dark ringlet around her finger and thought about her three visits this day, and the general misapprehension that she knew the location of the all-important strongbox. Robbie had not behaved as though he were a man about to be married. The Baron believed her an heiress and was apparently hoping to secure a fortune by fair means or foul. Berry claimed to be her parents’ agent in Egypt, yet he did not know that Hathor was the name of a prominent Egyptian goddess. He also had searched her house uninvited and had locked horns with her parents’ solicitor, and—if she were guessing—it would not be beyond the realm of possibility to believe that he was some sort of spy; it would explain his penchant for doing whatever he wished even though he had adopted the persona of a clerk. This led her to draw a similar conclusion when it came to Robbie and his grey-eyed superior; try as she might, she didn’t see how the diplomatic doings at the Congress of Vienna could have instigated this hotly contested search for her parents’ strongbox. Something untoward was going forward, and whatever it was, apparently it was dangerous; many were dead and the Comte—whatever his name was—had urged her to flee back to England with all speed.
Pulling gently on a fine chain she wore around her neck, she withdrew the golden disk that was suspended upon it. Frowning in concentration, she contemplated the unintelligible markings engraved upon the disk for the thousandth time. I have no idea whom I can trust, she thought. And so I will trust no one.
Chapter 9
“We sail upon the Sophia, which will depart from Le Havre on the tide day after next.” Bing was thinking about practicalities as they sat for breakfast the next morning, Hattie a bit heavy-eyed from her late night. “Do we fold up our tent and depart without comment, Hathor? Will you miss Mr. Tremaine’s wedding festivities?”
“With great pleasure.” Hattie buttered her bread with more force than was necessary. “And for the record, the gentleman was disinclined to discuss the event, and turned the subject at every opportunity.” The two women exchanged a significant look in the manner of women everywhere who predict a mismatch, and a small silence fell as they continued their repast. A bit guiltily, Hattie realized that she would have to tell Bing something of what was going forward—although thus far she’d been an exemplary cohort—and so she decided to speak only in cautious generalities, for the time being. “I know my parents had a solicitor in Cairo—a Mr. Bahur—and given recent events I think it is important that I meet with him in person.”
Bing nodded. “Certainly understandable—I imagine he would want to speak to you, also; one may presume he awaits instruction.”
Hattie thought about what Berry had told her. “Do you think I am the executrix, then?”
“I have no idea, I’m afraid, but it is another reason to seek him out; if you are not the executrix you will need to speak to whoever is fulfilling that role.”
“I suppose I shall need to draw upon their funds.” Hattie had never considered such mundane matters in the past, mainly because she’d never gone anywhere nor done anything remotely interesting.
But Bing shook her head slightly in disagreement. “Your accounts are yours outright, Hathor—to draw upon as you wish. This was made very clear to me.”
Thinking on this, Hattie smiled at her companion and reflected without rancor, “How strange that they were so generous with their money but not with their attention.”
“I shall say nothing on the subject,” said Bing, and pressed her lips into a thin disapproving line before she took another bite of dry toast.
But Hattie was not one to dwell on the past—particularly now that the future seemed to hold a hint of promise, given the glimpse of that simmering emotion—and replied, “Come, now, Bing—they were bringing the wonders of the ancients to the world and I—well, I would have been underfoot. And,” Hattie teased her, “I would never have met you, else. Promise you will not up and marry some no-account suitor, as did Miss Swansea.”
“I’m afraid I am not the marrying kind,” Bing disclaimed with her slight smile.
“Well then, this will be as close to an elopement as we’ll come, I imagine. I’d rather not trust the servants with our plans, so please pack a few essential things discreetly—we’ll need to purchase more appropriate clothing once in Cairo, anyway—and we’ll hire a hackney and be well away before anyone has a chance to plague me further.”
“I cannot blame you for your caution, Hathor. It does seem…” Bing paused, her thin wrists resting on the table. “It does seem that there are powerful forces at play.”