The Lioness of Morocco(47)
“I am a son of two worlds,” Sabri explained. “As you know, my mother was a member of the Christian Orthodox churches of her country. When she became my father’s second wife, she converted to the faith of the Prophet.”
Sabri’s mother, Almaz, came from Abyssinia. His father had bought her in a slave market near Mecca and brought her back to Mogador. When she gave birth to Sabri, Haji Abdul’s only son, he took her as his second wife.
Thomas patted his friend on the back. “Here comes my mother.”
When Sabri smiled and turned his head, he saw not Sibylla but Emily. He had not seen her since he left for Fez to study Arab medicine, and he hardly recognized her. The skinny little girl with the long arms and legs had become a woman. She returned his gaze for a moment, then quickly looked down. She blushed slightly and threw her hair back with a graceful motion. Her earrings caught a ray of sunlight, and Sabri noticed that they were the same unusual color as her eyes. He desperately wanted her to look at him again with those amethyst blue eyes and, just as this wish passed through his mind, she did so with a mischievous smile. He admired the little dimples in the corners of her mouth.
“Dr. bin Abdul. How nice that you have returned to Mogador,” Sibylla said.
He grudgingly took his eyes off Emily and bowed before his friend’s mother. “Assalamu alaikum, Mrs. Hopkins.”
He watched as Emily greeted her brothers. She seemed so full of life. Just looking at her filled Sabri with joy. After she had embraced Victoria, she finally turned to him. “Assalamu alaikum, Dr. bin Abdul.”
He bowed. “Miss Hopkins, is it really you—little Emily?”
“I’m really not little anymore, Dr. bin Abdul,” she replied impishly.
He nodded earnestly. “Indeed, Miss Hopkins! You have become a young lady and more beautiful than all the stars in the sky.”
Suddenly shy and speechless, she stared at Sabri as though hypnotized.
No part of this exchange was lost on Sibylla. Sabri was an honorable young man, but what would it mean to Sabri and Emily if they fell in love? A Muslim and a Christian. What would it mean for Emily if they desired a shared future? Would she have to convert to Islam? Or perhaps even lead a life as a low-ranking concubine?
Sibylla had raised Emily to be an independent young woman. She certainly did not want her hidden away in a harem. She placed a protective arm around Emily. “It’s time we went home, dear. Ma’assalama, Dr. bin Abdul. Please pay my respects to your honorable parents.”
“Ma’assalama.” Sabri bowed.
Emily took one last look at him. Without realizing, she let out a soft sigh.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mogador, July 1860
“We’ll never find a new nanny for Charlotte and Selwyn. No one wants to come here, no matter how much we pay!”
Victoria stormed into John’s study and threw a letter on his desk. Her husband looked up from his paperwork with annoyance.
“Here you have it: Grandmother Mary writes that twenty governesses with outstanding references answered her ad, but when they heard the position was going to be in an African country, they all withdrew!”
John needed to prepare for an important meeting with the harbormaster, the governor, and Consul Willshire, and did not wish to be disturbed. He was well aware that Victoria was unhappy in Mogador, but told himself it was because she had not yet settled in. Ever since the twins’ governess had impulsively resigned and returned to England, Victoria had become upset at the slightest provocation.
“Please calm down,” he bade her in as controlled a voice as possible. “Nadira is doing an excellent job of taking care of the children. And my mother is supporting you as best she can.”
“You might not mind that our children are being raised by a Negress,” Victoria hissed. “But do you also want her to turn them into Moors? This morning, I caught her showing Charlotte how people in this country pray! I want an English nanny, John, one who knows manners and who raises our children properly!”
“Now you’re exaggerating. Nadira raised me and my brother, and did we turn into Arabs?”
“She’s teaching the children godless, heathen behavior!”
“That is an absolute exaggeration!” He would have liked to throw his stepgrandmother’s letter, which had caused such a fuss, into the wastepaper basket, but instead he set it aside with seeming indifference, gathered his papers, and placed them in a leather portfolio. “I have no time to discuss this at the moment, dear. I have an important meeting to attend.” It was still two hours until the meeting, but he would prepare in the company office at the harbor, where he could work in peace.
With a hiccupping sob, Victoria sank onto the sofa along the wall. “You never have time for me, never listen to my concerns. Sometimes I have the feeling that we don’t matter to you!”
John took a deep breath. He hated these constant arguments with his wife. In England, she had been much more sensible. Here, he sometimes had the feeling that he was married to a stranger, and he had no idea how to handle her moods. His mother had explained to him that Victoria was suffering from homesickness and that he should be patient and understanding. But they had been living in Morocco for seven months now, and he felt she had been homesick long enough.
“Did you know that Nadira is the real reason the nanny left?” Victoria lamented. “That woman was constantly meddling in her child-rearing methods—just imagine, an African who grew up in a straw hut giving advice to a trained English governess, and you did nothing about it! I well understand why she went back to London, and I envy her!”
“My wife envies her servants! Why, I ask myself? Because they take orders all day long?” John replied sarcastically. He pointedly took out his pocket watch and looked at it.
Victoria stared at him in disbelief for a moment and then buried her face in her hands. John heard her stifled sobs, saw her shoulders trembling. She had become thin, and the misery of having to live in Mogador was written all over her.
“It’s easy for you,” his mother had said. “You were born and raised here. Mogador is your home. Your wife comes from another world. She made a big sacrifice for you and Selwyn in leaving everything that was dear and familiar to her. Never forget that!”
John hesitated. Then he placed his portfolio on the desk, sat next to Victoria on the couch, and clumsily stroked her back. He himself would not have traded his life here for huge, loud, damp London for anything in the world.
Victoria rested her head against his shoulder. “Oh, John! I am so sorry that I lost my temper again. It’s just that I feel so alone here. I imagined Mogador would be completely different.”
“How, dear?” John asked although he had already heard the answer a dozen times. Victoria felt like a prisoner in tiny Mogador. Excursions were not an option because of the recent ambushes on travelers by bands of robbers driven from their villages by hunger. Life inside the city walls was safe but boring and monotonous. There were no diversions, no theater, no exhibits, no sporting events. The house in which they lived was old-fashioned and small compared to Victoria’s villa in elegant Mayfair. There was no gas lighting, the rooms were cramped, and the servants did not follow her directions because they considered her mother-in-law their only mistress. Sibylla had assigned Firyal as her chambermaid, but the woman did not even know how to tie a bodice correctly.
And besides, Victoria was afraid of Firyal’s dark, inscrutable face and, ever since an Arab merchant had charged her triple the usual price because she did not know that she was expected to bargain, she was convinced they were all crooks.
“The streets are so filthy!” Victoria wailed. “There are beggars in front of every home and they try to latch onto you. I have never seen so many disfigured and crippled people. Oh, it’s simply horrible!”
“There are plenty of disfigured and crippled people in the East End as well, as my brother will confirm,” John tried, but she stubbornly shook her head.
“Such wretched conditions just don’t exist in England. We have clinics, orphanages, and relief organizations. I myself was on the committee of the Home for Orphaned Daughters of Soldiers.”
John took Victoria’s hands in his own. “Now look at me for a moment, dear. Don’t you think that in all your woe you have forgotten something very important? Have you not noticed how much better Selwyn is? He hasn’t coughed in months. I believe his lungs have been healed here. Is that worth nothing to you?”
“Of course!” she professed. “Selwyn’s health is the only thing that makes life bearable for me here.”
John again pulled out his pocket watch. “I’m sorry, dear, but I really must go now. I’m already late.”
She gave a resigned nod. “What is your meeting about?”
“The harbor basin, yet again. Consul Willshire and I want to persuade the qaid to expand it so that steamships might finally come to Mogador.”
“Steamships? Are the shipping companies really going to stop using sailing ships?”
“No, but I’m convinced that steamships shall replace them eventually. Even now, there are steam-powered ships traveling between Europe and America. There is no stopping this development. The future of all of us here in Mogador depends on our being prepared for the future.” He kissed Victoria on the head and got up. “I’ll see you this evening, darling.”