With her ship in good hands, Rue marched along, taking in the wonders of the city around her. In the comparative cool of early morning, the streets were alive with activity – performers plying their arts, vendors selling wares out of stalls or off the backs of donkeys, and all manner of street urchin. On the short walk to the hotel, they stepped to the side to allow not one but two processions. One was religious and the other military. They were passed by several open-topped steam carriages and a caravan of impressive camels – no doubt off to view the pyramids. A massive omnibus scuttled by, steam-powered and covered in passengers, so many they appeared piled and draped over a box on wheels, dangling in such a way as to be both precarious and decorative.
Cairo was a desert child dressed in soot and sand. The men wore flowing robes of rust, soft blue, and cream with the women confined to darker shades. There seemed a great deal of importance placed upon the type and style of a gentleman’s headwear, more so than even the top hats of Rue’s home country. She could only respect that, given her familial relationship to Uncle Rabiffano and Aunt Ivy. The street was loud, full of chatter and music. The laymen sang as they marched towards the Nile and the railway stations beyond. Even as Rue delighted in her new surroundings, she dreaded the impending horror of abandoning her parents in this dusty place.
Shepheard’s was very impressed with itself and with the honour of housing Lord and Lady Maccon. Certainly, the hotel was accustomed to entertaining persons of great wealth and privilege, even occasionally great title and power, but rarely all four at once.
The Maccons were let the best rooms. The owner himself saw them settled before bowing out in an obsequious manner. Rue gave the decklings some coin and the afternoon off, to be home before sundown. Thus the aristocrats found themselves alone in the sitting room as the heat of the day pressed down.
“Young Percy,” said Paw, “a private word if you would?”
Percy, surprised, followed Lord Maccon into a separate chamber, leaving the ladies to enjoy a light repast of tea and sandwiches.
“Not bad tea, actually.” Lady Maccon was begrudging. “I suppose they must cater to British preferences. I wonder how much it costs them to import?”
“Mother, are you sure of this decision? I worry about leaving you two in this foreign place alone.”
“Don’t be silly, infant. We’re well equipped to handle ourselves. He’s looking better already, wouldn’t you say?”
“He’s certainly looking older, if that’s what you mean.” Rue nibbled at a funny honey nut biscuit thing.
“Good. He may catch up with me and we shall look the same age.”
Primrose came over perturbed by illogic. “I don’t think mathematics quite work that way, Lady Maccon.”
Mother laughed. “I was trying to lighten the mood. Infant here looks so concerned about life. Or death, as it were.”
Awkward silence permeated the room. Prim poured more tea rather desperately.
Finally, Lady Maccon pulled out her parasol, the ugly one that sprayed things when it wasn’t shooting other things or being used as a blunt instrument. “Prudence dear, I should like you to have this now.” She passed the accessory over. “You know its worth.”
Rue took it gingerly. “Certainly I do, but, Mother, are you certain? It’s very important to you, and you should find a weapon far more useful than I. Particularly as you are residing in a public hotel.”
“Ah, but you, my child, can’t steal immortality inside the God-Breaker Plague. It should make me feel better knowing you had a good weapon. When you leave Egypt and can be metanatural again, I thought Miss Primrose here might be interested in the accessory.”
Primrose was shocked at being included in a family concern. “Oh, I shouldn’t want to take on a family heirloom.”
Lady Maccon snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous, girl, I’m not sentimental. I’ve had half a dozen or so of the bally things.”
Primrose whispered into Rue’s ear in an excess of shock, “Your mother is gifting us with a second-hand parasol?”
Rue hid a smile. Her mother was, at her best, overbearing. She was also not one to be challenged on points of generosity. Best to accept her dubious gift and have done with it.
“You’ve ordered a replacement from Madame Lefoux already, then?”
Lady Maccon grinned at her daughter. “Naturally. With new features designed specifically for a desert climate. I’m looking forward to the modifications about as much as Genevieve is looking forward to designing them. She does love a challenge.” Her mother’s words were coloured with that peculiar affection reserved exclusively for Quesnel’s mother. “And there will be a nice new one for you, Miss Tunstell, eventually – full of useful and ladylike necessities, like perfume, and handkerchiefs, and piccolos, and very small truncheons, and what have you. You’ll want to consider the practical applications to your own daily activities. I find it is always best to go custom in these matters.”
Primrose looked startled. “Thank you kindly but I’ve plenty of perfectly lovely parasols.”
“It’s the principle of the thing.” Lady Maccon was not making a lick of sense.
“Well, then, I cannot wait to return to London to oversee its creation.” Prim’s expression spoke volumes. She was hoping to intercede with Madame Lefoux in order to ensure it was fashion forward, perhaps with a removable shade so she could change the colour.