Lady Emily's Exotic Journey (3 page)

She was not prepared, of course. None of them were, because ladies were never prepared for encounters with the real world. They would screech and squawk and have to be helped over every little bump in the road. It would slow them down immeasurably. But he had no reason to hurry back to Mosul, so he did not mind.

After all, Lady Emily was pretty and cheerful. It would be no hardship to help her over a few bumps. She even seemed reasonably intelligent. If her parents had brought her on this trip, perhaps she was not as ignorant as most of her kind. It might be amusing to talk with a woman whose conversation was not limited to fashion and gossip.

But thinking of fashion, he must speak to them about their clothes. David would be embarrassed to do so, and Lord Penworth would have no way to know—not when his guide to the region was Sir Henry, who knew nothing of this part of the world outside the court.

But those charming gowns the ladies wore would be impossible on the journey. Their skirts were wider than some of the trails they would travel.

They were going to need Turkish garments. He smiled to himself. He would have to make clear he was not talking about the flimsy harem costumes that were the stuff of European fantasies. In reality, the Turks were far more prudish than Europeans in terms of what the women wore. But they were going to need the kind of clothing that would make it possible for them to ride donkeys and horses and go on foot when necessary.

He would have to take them shopping himself. There was no one else to do it, and someone needed to be practical. The
maman
seemed to be a sensible sort of woman. Unlike that foolish Lady Bulwer, Lady Penworth was not affronted by the fact that she was in a foreign country. Lady Julia, however… He made a face. She was a beauty,
sans
doute
, but one of those cold, very proper ladies. More beautiful than Lady Emily, perhaps, but it was Lady Emily who intrigued him. She had a bit of a devil in her.

He wondered how long they would manage before they turned back. Three days? A week? He hoped it would be at least a week. It would indeed be amusing to travel in Lady Emily's company.

The mare she had been given picked her way carefully around the boulder that protruded into the trail, never putting a hoof wrong. And wasn't that a mercy, thought Emily. She was exceedingly grateful to find herself on a horse who knew what she was doing. At least today she was sitting on the horse. Yesterday they had been higher up in the mountains on a trail that was barely wide enough for someone on foot, and they had all had to walk, leading the horses and mules.

Here they were, a week from Samsun, and, according to Mr. Oliphant, they had covered barely a hundred miles of the five hundred miles to Diyarbakir. Perhaps she should not have been quite so scornful when he spoke of the difficulties of the trip. The road was rising again, and mist shrouded the top of the mountain, making it impossible to even guess how much higher they had to climb.

And, she thought ruefully, perhaps she should not have been quite so scornful of Lady Bulwer's menu choices. For the past two days, they had dined on nothing but yogurt and eggs, with very chewy bread and hard cheese for lunch. She pulled her dark cloak closer around her and shifted slightly to try to find a more comfortable seat on the unfamiliar Turkish saddle. As usual, she failed.

“Cold?” M. Chambertin guided his horse beside hers, smiling with his eyes, the only part of his face she could see. Like all of their party, he had a scarf wrapped over the lower part of his face, protecting against the bitter chill of the cloudy day.

“Not at all,” she lied. After all, it wasn't as if anyone could change the temperature, so there was no use complaining about it.

Irmak, the Ottoman kavass who was in charge of this expedition, turned around and gave her a disbelieving look. It was also a disapproving look, but she was growing accustomed to that. Irmak seemed to be censuring everything about her all the time. She had found it intimidating at first, but she was growing accustomed to his enormous curving mustache and heavy brows, so she smiled back at him. He gave a snort of something that might have been laughter as he turned away. Perhaps he was not really so disapproving. It might be those eyebrows that made him look so fierce. That and the mustache.

Making an effort to be positive, she turned to M. Chambertin. “These garments are remarkably comfortable. It was sensible of you to insist that we acquire them.” Indeed, the layers of garments that the Turkish women wore actually were comfortable, probably the most comfortable clothes she had ever worn, at least in public. However, she couldn't help feeling as if she had simply wrapped herself in the contents of the laundry basket. There seemed to be no effort made to ensure that the different parts of the outfit—she had no idea what they were called—matched or even harmonized. She doubted they were at all becoming. They might even look dowdy.

Except, of course, on Mama and Julia. They managed to look stylish, even elegant, in second-hand garments that made no pretense of fitting. But while her collection of whatever these things were called just hung about her like clothes on a line, theirs made them look as if they were swathed in exotic raiment. How did they do it?

The scarf across her face, though—she did like that. It was called a
yashmak
, she had learned, and left only her eyes uncovered, so it should make her look mysterious. She hoped it did. Mysterious would certainly be better than dowdy. She cast a sidelong glance at M. Chambertin.

He was laughing, drat him. And he managed to look quite dashing in his voluminous cape.

“Insist? You cannot be serious. You think I insisted to Lady Penworth? I doubt anyone ever does that. Fortunately, your mother is a woman of great good sense and can see reason.”

“Yes. Mama is not one of those silly creatures who put propriety before safety and comfort. We could hardly travel over these mountains wearing corsets and riding sidesaddle.”

“And her daughter is also a woman of good sense.” His eyes suddenly looked serious. “It is not simply a matter of comfort as we ride. Robed as we all are, it is not immediately obvious that we are Europeans. Anyone observing us cannot be certain that we are infidels. They must approach nearer, and by the time they can identify us, we can identify them. There are those in these mountains who would seize on any reason to attack strangers, but they prefer to attack those who will not fight back.”

“But we have not seen a soul in all the time we've been riding except when we come to villages.”

“That does not mean no one has seen us.” He pulled down his scarf a bit to smile at her, unnecessarily. She could easily see his smile in his eyes. “I do not mean to frighten you, just to make you careful. Accompanied as we are by the kavass and his soldiers, there is little danger that anyone would attack us. But you must never wander off on your own.”

She gave a snort of laughter and looked around. “I am in a wilderness of rocks and trees in a strange country where, I am told, wolves, bears, and wild boar abound. I have no idea where I am, and aside from the bitter cold, the sky looks as if there may be a storm at any time. Do you really think me the sort of fool to leave the protection of this company?”

“No, I do not think you a fool at all. But the warning is not only for this mountainside. Throughout this journey, whether we are in mountains or in villages or in cities, nowhere must you go alone.”

“Nowhere?” She raised her brows skeptically.

“Nowhere,” he said firmly. “Irmak is already distressed that I am speaking to you. Since you are the daughter of an important man, a bey if not a pasha, you and the other women should be guarded and kept from the sight of men. He is inclined to think that he should cut off my head for my impertinence in riding beside you, but your father does not seem to object. It confuses him.”

She started to laugh, but the laughter faded when he did not join in. “You cannot be serious. You expect me to shut myself up in the women's quarters? The
hareem
?”

“No, no.” He did smile now. “I would never suggest anything so foolish. I only ask that you be prudent. This world is very different from England.” He smiled more broadly at the irritated noise she made. “Yes, I know. That is why you have come here, because it is different. But it is not always easy to recognize the ways in which it is different. One must step carefully to not give offense without intending it. And it is even harder for women. I do not ask you to shut yourself away. I only ask that you take care.”

She felt irritated, more irritated than she should. It was sensible advice, no different, really, than the advice her mother had given her before her first diplomatic dinner. Did he think she was an idiot? She kept her eyes turned straight ahead and concentrated on the trail as it proceeded on its zigzag course through spruce trees and patches of snow. Snow in April. Well, that was different. “Are you giving the same advice to my mother and to Julia?”

“I would not presume. Lord Penworth is a wise man, and a well-traveled one, I think. He will know how to give your maman advice without ruffling her feathers as I have ruffled yours. Lady Julia seems to be possessed of a decent sense of caution, and in any case, Oliphant will watch out for her.”

She nodded.

“You are not angry?”

She considered briefly, then made a face. “No. It's sensible advice. I was only annoyed that you thought I needed it.”

“Ah, for that I apologize. I was not certain. You understand?”

That made sense, she supposed. He did not know her well enough to trust her common sense, so she said, “Fair enough.”

“
Bon.
Good. We are friends then?
Copains?
” He offered a smile with the question.

“Copains. That means comrades, doesn't it? I like that. We're comrades.” She put out a hand, and they shook on it. “And since we are copains, you may call me Emily.”

His smile broadened. “I am honored. And my name is Lucien.”

Copains. She liked that idea. She had never had a young man want to be her friend, not since she had been a child and she and her sisters had run free with their brothers' friends. Now that she was a young lady, she no longer had friends, at least not male friends. She had suitors, boring young men who flattered her in hopes of receiving her father's patronage. Foolish young men who patronized her, thinking she was as stupid as they seemed to think all women were. One day she would have to marry one of them, she supposed. What else was there for her to do?

But M. Chambertin—Lucien—was offering to be her friend. Friends were equals. Friendship was something truly special, something of extraordinary value. And she would value it. Oh yes, she would value it.

Besides, there was the fact that he was a very attractive young man. Not handsome, no. But definitely attractive, especially when he smiled. His smile was really quite dashing. It held the promise of excitement—of danger, even.

Best of all, she liked the idea of being friends with an adventurer. Someone who was not at all like the young men she had known all her life.

Ahead of them, Irmak and three of his men led the way. She glanced back. Julia was riding with Mr. Oliphant, both of them silent as usual. It was amazing how straight they both sat on their horses, no matter how long they had been riding. Straight and silent and unsmiling. She wanted to poke them.

Then came her parents. They brought up the rear not, she knew, through weariness, but simply so Papa could keep an eye on everyone. And they were not really the rear. Behind them were half a dozen more troopers and a string of mules carrying their luggage.

They looked a sorry lot. All of them were wrapped in dark cloaks, masking any hint of fashion. Even the troopers had gray capes with hoods covering those odd red hats they wore that looked like inverted flowerpots. Could anything be further from a carriage ride in a London park or a railway journey from Victoria Station? It was strange and foreign and so very different.

Precisely what she had wished for. Well, an adventurer's friendship was more than she had dared hope for, but as for the rest? She must remember to be a bit more careful with her wishes. A slightly higher level of comfort would be nice. That thought made her laugh at herself. In a few months, she would be back home, safe in her little cocoon, with all the comforts possible. This was her chance—probably her only chance—to see a bit of the world outside the confines of proper English society, to have a bit of adventure, to discover what she was capable of. She was determined to enjoy it, discomforts and all.

* * *

Two weeks later, her feelings about this adventure had encountered a few ups and downs. That, it occurred to her, was a suitable phrase for this trip across the mountains. Twists and turns would do as well. Or highs and lows. What it had not been was boring, and she was rather pleased with herself. Throughout, she had behaved sensibly. Not only had she not complained, but she had coped. She had not humiliated herself by being a burden for the others and requiring assistance. She had been equal to every challenge the trip presented.

There had been times when they rode through sheets of blinding rain, with howling winds trying to hurl them to the ground. Then they would round a bend in the road—or trail—and find themselves in bright sunshine, so warm—no, so
hot
—that their cloaks dried in minutes. They traveled over barren sheets of rock, where a few tiny sprigs of green clung to life. They crossed a ridge and saw spread below them a broad cultivated valley, green with new crops in fields and orchards bright with blossoms. Through the valley ran a river with the town spread out on either side.

The contrasts along the route had been fascinating, but Emily could not deny that she was grateful for the power of the firman. Wherever they stopped, Irmak presented it to the mayor or governor or whoever was in charge, and they were immediately welcomed as guests into the best house in town. Everyone was bowing to her father and calling him
effendi.
She and, she suspected, all the others were especially grateful for this after the night when there was no town and they had been forced to take shelter in a deserted village. A blanket strung up between crumbled walls provided some privacy for the women, but they still had to sleep on the ground, wrapped in blankets that smelled of horses, using their saddles for pillows. And if the ground hadn't been hard enough in the first place, pebbles seemed to creep along and lodge themselves under her hips.

It had not been a bed she would ever choose, but she could not deny that the absence of a roof meant that the stars had been spectacular. Also, it was pleasant not to be shut away for a change. That was beginning to be tiresome.

In every town or village where they stayed, Emily, her mother, and Julia, along with their maids, Nuran and Safiye, were hustled into the women's quarters as soon as they entered the house where they were staying. It was disconcerting, and the first time it happened she had opened her mouth to protest. Lucien frowned at her, and she realized later that this was precisely what he had meant by his little lecture. Mama and Julia had obviously been given the same lecture, because they offered no objection. She fumed in silence, but saw the sense of it. As a guest in someone's house, it would be the height of rudeness to flout their customs. But it was frustrating.

Mama noted her annoyance at being shut away, and she pointed out that they could console themselves that they were being given a glimpse of Ottoman society that the men would never see. That was probably true, but an even greater consolation was the comfort of the women's quarters.

It wasn't just the comfort of soft cushions and warm braziers, welcome though those were after a day atop a horse. The rooms were fascinating. The first night they stopped in the village of Kavak and stayed in the house of someone who seemed to be the mayor or some such. It was a small village, and it was a small house. The mayor looked extremely nervous, but to be fair, she had seen that most people looked nervous when Irmak began barking orders at them. Especially when Irmak was backed by a troop of armed horsemen.