The Master's Wife (23 page)

‘Tell me,’ Antonia demanded, laying the tripod on top of the camera box then straightening up.

Caseley repeated what Jago had told her.

Visibly startled, Antonia was silent for several seconds. ‘Well, it seems to me the officer got what he deserved.’

‘I agree. But there is another aspect to be considered. Do you not see?’

Antonia drew herself up. ‘For goodness’ sake, Caseley. Stop being so mysterious. Just say it.’

‘What kind of honour demands a woman’s death for something not her fault, something she could not have prevented? This code is completely different from everything you are used to –’

‘Yes,’ Antonia waved her to silence. ‘But it is
desert
culture. Of course Imad must show respect for the old traditions when he visits. It is his duty as a prince of his tribe. But this is not how he lives, or where he lives. He owns properties in Cairo and Alexandria.’

‘That has nothing to do with –’

‘No,’ Antonia cut across. ‘You have said your piece. Have the courtesy to let me say mine. I will give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you have my best interests at heart. Though if you really cared about my happiness you would be more supportive. All I ever hear from you are warnings. Anyone would think you do not want me to be happy.’

The words landed like blows. ‘No! You misunderstand me. That is not at all –’

‘Yes, you suffered a grievous loss,’ Antonia continued, not listening. ‘I’m sure you had the sympathy of everyone you told. But you must accept that I know far better than you do what is best for me.’

Everyone you told
. As if she had been begging for sympathy, when nothing could be further from the truth. As raw anger stirred, Caseley fought it down. Her intention had been to spare Antonia embarrassment. But she was wasting her breath.

‘You’re right,’ Caseley said quietly. ‘I should not have spoken.’

Antonia couldn’t hide her surprise. Then satisfaction smoothed away her frown and lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘We’ll say no more about it. I’m sure you meant well.’

‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go back to the tent.’

‘Aren’t you bored with baking?’

‘No, I enjoy it. With so many extra guests, Fayruz is glad to have help.’

‘Go ahead if it makes you happy. I can see we were brought up with very different expectations. Carry this for me, will you?’ She handed Caseley the tripod, then picked up the camera box.

When they reached the tent, Caseley put the tripod down beside the fabric wall and lowered herself onto the rug beside Fayruz, who smiled warmly at Caseley’s murmured ‘
As-salaamu aleikum
,’ and returned the greeting.

Reaching for the pot of water, Caseley poured a little into her palm and washed her hands, wiping them dry on the end of her scarf. Reaching to pick up a lump of dough she felt a sudden tug. Her head was jerked back and both scarf and headband wrenched off.

There was a collective gasp and all chatter stopped as her reddish hair was exposed.

‘Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I tripped.’ Antonia moved on into the sleeping area.

Two women pulled their children away and made signs Caseley guessed were intended to ward off evil. Rashida scolded them. As more joined in, taking sides, the noise level rose.

Face burning, heart pounding in shock, Caseley twisted round to pick up the scarf and headband lying behind her.

Adding her voice to the argument, Fayruz gestured for Caseley to cover her head with the scarf while she quickly refolded the band and tied it in place for her.

She wanted to believe it was an accident. For Antonia to have done such a thing deliberately – Her entire body burned. Shame suffused her at having deceived them. Yet what else could she have done? The colour of her hair was outside her control, an accident of birth. She was the same person they had accepted, welcomed. But many who had smiled in welcome now glared in suspicion.

Caseley saw Sabra arrive from another tent with more women, who clustered around the tent opening. The Sheikha asked a question and the babble erupted again. They were speaking Arabic so Caseley could only guess at what was being said. Antonia emerged and shrugged, brushing it off as a simple accident.

Scathing and angry, Fayruz and Rashida made their opinion of her very clear. Antonia flushed.

Head down, her face hidden, Caseley edged backward then slipped out of the tent. Sabra found her sitting on a rock watching the camels.

‘Miss Collingwood has caused more harm to herself than to you.’

‘It doesn’t feel like that.’

‘Bedouin women are not stupid.’ She raised her hand before Caseley could speak. ‘I know you do not think them so. My point is that they have experienced your politeness, your willingness to help. They allowed you to prepare food with them and watched you comfort a child.’

‘But that wasn’t enough to overcome –’

‘You do them an injustice. Fayruz, Rashida and Zainab spoke strongly for you and others were persuaded.’

‘Many were angry.’

‘You will leave soon, so why does it matter?’

The question jolted Caseley. ‘I suppose I – I should have liked them to remember me kindly.’

‘What others think of you is not your concern. Have you enjoyed your visit?’

‘Oh yes. I had no idea what to expect. But it has been an amazing experience. One I will never forget.’
For so many reasons.

Sabra slipped her arm through Caseley’s. ‘I am glad. Come, we will return to the tent. It will soon be time to eat.’

Caseley held back. ‘Are you sure I will be welcome?’

Sabra’s brows rose. ‘You are with me.’

It was not the reply Caseley hoped for. But if the Sheikha’s patronage deflected any residual ill feeling, the remainder of the day and evening would be more pleasant for everyone. They were, after all, still celebrating the wedding.

She looked across the encampment. Outside the tents groups of elders were seated on the ground, around several cooking fires tended by young men. Boys hurried back and forth with armfuls of thorn and sacks of dried camel dung to feed the flames.

Jago was there with Sheikh Imad and Robert Pawlyn. But from this distance she could not pick him out from among all the others.

They reached the tent behind several others who had just arrived. Caseley withdrew her arm from Sabra’s. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll stay back here.’ She indicated a spot against the side wall. ‘This is an important occasion for the ladies of the bride and groom’s families, and you are a guest of honour. Just being part of it is a privilege for me. Besides, after what happened earlier I would prefer not to be noticed.’

Sabra studied her for a moment, then nodded. ‘Your modesty does you credit.’

Knowing the compliment was undeserved, Caseley watched as Sabra was drawn into a group of women. She looked for Antonia and saw her on the far side of the tent opening, talking animatedly to the woman beside her. The woman gave her head a brief shake, then got up and moved away to another group.

Antonia’s smile froze and she glanced round, adjusting her scarf in an attempt to mask her embarrassment.

Sighing, Caseley raised her hand to catch Antonia’s attention. Though she would have preferred to sit by herself, had it not been for Antonia pressing Sheikh Imad for an invitation she would not even be here. Maybe Antonia wouldn’t come over.

But she did, dropping onto the sand beside Caseley, just as three older women and a pretty younger one arrived from another tent. The older women, clearly pleased, were talking excitedly. The younger one smiled shyly, glowing with happiness.

Other women got up and went to greet them, then clapped and squealed with pleasure.

‘What’s happening?’ Caseley asked.

‘An engagement has been arranged,’ Antonia said. Then her colour drained away, leaving her face ashen and slack with shock. ‘No,’ she whispered, stunned and stricken. ‘
No
!’

As two women glanced round, Caseley quickly got up, dragged Antonia to her feet and pulled her out of the tent. In all the excitement no one noticed them go.

‘He can’t – he wouldn’t –’

‘Lean on me.’ Caseley put a supportive arm around her. ‘We’ll go to the well.’ Hearing laughter and the sounds of celebration drifting across from the men’s camp she realised.

‘The engagement, is it Sheikh Imad?’

Antonia moaned. ‘Why did he let me think –?’

Caseley said nothing. She had not seen him do or say anything to give Antonia cause for hope.
He had allowed himself to be persuaded to include herself and Antonia in the party.
That had been Jago’s doing, because he had not wanted to leave her behind. From that single thread Antonia had spun a vivid tapestry of a future together.

‘You saw.’ Stopping suddenly, Antonia seized Caseley’s wrists. ‘You must have noticed how he looked at me. He can’t want this. He is being pressured –’

Caseley stood still. Surely Antonia knew better than to imagine Sheikh Imad would bow to pressure from anyone about anything? ‘I’m so sorry.’

Antonia’s expression reflected her agony. ‘I thought – I was sure –’ She flung Caseley’s hands away and her face contorted as she swiped at the tears that streamed down her face. ‘Go on, then. Tell me you were right all along and I’ve made a complete fool of myself.’

They reached the well. Caseley lowered the leather bucket, heard it splash and drew it up again as Antonia slumped down onto a stone. ‘Bathe your face and wrists.’

‘That’s supposed to make me feel better?’

‘No. But it will calm you and erase the signs of your weeping. Do you want their pity?’

‘No!’ Dipping one end of her head cloth into the water Antonia wiped her face and the back of her neck. Caseley did the same and the cool, wet cloth felt blissfully refreshing.

‘I can’t go back.’

‘To the tent?’

‘Where else?’

‘Yes, you can. If you show courage and dignity –’

‘Dignity?’ Antonia gave a short, scathing laugh. ‘Oh yes, you’d know all about that. What is dignified about doing the work of a servant? What dignity did you show, crying over a child that isn’t even yours?’

Caseley’s heart thumped painfully as Antonia strode away. She closed her eyes. Antonia had lashed out because she was upset and embarrassed. Even if she was right, and Caseley had compromised her dignity, she could not regret it for she had gained far more than she’d lost. An arm encircled her shoulders.

‘There you are.’ Jago’s voice was gentle, his face thunderous. ‘I see Miss Collingwood has heard the news.’

Caseley nodded. ‘I – we –’ She couldn’t get any more past the lump in her throat.

‘Come, my love,’ he drew her away, walking her slowly towards Fayruz’s
bayt
. ‘Go and eat now. You must,’ he insisted gently before she could argue. ‘Sit with Sabra. She will make sure you are comfortable. May I pass on your good wishes to the Sheikh?’

‘Yes, please do. I realise it must have been a shock for her, but –’ she stopped, tried to shrug it off.

‘As soon as Sheikh Imad and his bride-to-be’s father announced the contract, I guessed what would happen. She behaves like a spoiled child. I wish I could have reached you before she –’

Caseley turned her face into his shoulder. ‘You came.’

‘I wish I could stay.’

Taking a deep breath she straightened. ‘I’m all right now.’

‘I had hoped ... but Pawlyn and I must honour our obligations as guests.’

‘Of course you must. You cannot risk the goodwill you have built up over the past few days.’

‘Besides, tonight we distribute the gold.’ A muscle jumped in his jaw.

‘What is it, Jago?’

His tension dissolved in a wry smile. ‘I have talked myself hoarse. No one could ever accuse me of patience but I have surprised myself. Pawlyn has been invaluable. He and the Sheikh negotiated with immense skill on my behalf.’ He rubbed his forehead.

‘But?’ she asked softly.

‘We have not achieved a commitment. Yet without the gold, we wouldn’t even have got this far. But our time is up.’

‘When do we leave?’

‘In the morning.’

‘Perhaps there is still time. Whatever the outcome, you could not have done more. Now you must go.’

He raised her hand, his gaze holding hers. His lips brushed her knuckles and she felt a tug deep inside. ‘I miss you.’ Releasing her hand he strode away, his sleeveless robe billowing.

‘That was unkind and uncalled for, Antonia,’ Robert Pawlyn scolded, torn between wanting to offer comfort and shake her until her teeth rattled. She was disappointed, hurting. He knew how that felt.

She sobbed in a storm of fresh tears. ‘Have you turned against me as well?’

‘No. Nor will I. Though you do make it a tempting notion. I understand you being drawn to the Sheikh. He is a charismatic man. His urbane manner and fluency in French make it easy to forget he is Bedouin. But he is proud of his culture and would never betray it. The men of his tribe say they would prefer their daughters be eaten by crocodiles than marry “outside”.’

‘Yes, but –’

‘No, no
buts
. As a prince who may one day be elected leader of his tribe, Sheikh Imad values honour above all things.’

‘Then why didn’t he warn me?’

‘Why should he? Antonia, his engagement is none of your business. You asked to join the wedding party, remember? He kindly consented. As it happened, travelling in a mixed group provided excellent cover for Captain Barata’s mission. Although the engagement announcement was made today, discussions between the families will have been under way for months.’

‘Oh,’ Antonia said in a small voice. She wiped her eyes and nose with the end of her scarf. ‘I feel very stupid.’

He hardened his heart. Sympathy would give her an excuse to wallow. ‘You’ll get over it.’ He was brisk. ‘Now while I walk you back to the tent, we will talk of other things. What are you most looking forward to on your return to Cairo? For myself, it is a proper bath. Though I shall miss wearing Bedouin clothes. They are cooler and far more comfortable for the climate than European dress. Don’t you agree?’

‘Why can’t I ever stay angry with you?’

‘Why would you want to?’