“And until then, you expect me to be your chaperone?” Victoria again put her hands on her hips.
“Upon my honor, you can trust me, Mrs. Hopkins!” Sabri replied with dignity.
Victoria thought of the passionate embrace she had caught them in. “No, I don’t like it, but”—she paused and gave them a sly look—“I have another idea. Don’t move from this spot—I shall be right back!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Mogador, February 1862
“Do you think that Miss Emily and Miss Victoria will have reached London by now, my lady?” Nadira asked.
“Pardon?” Sibylla replied absentmindedly and took a sip of mint tea.
A pale yellow sun was rising over Mogador. Sibylla was already dressed and sitting at her vanity while Nadira pinned up her hair.
Sibylla had moved jars, bottles, and hairbrushes aside to make room for a tome the size of an Encyclopedia Britannica. Every year, Lackington Allen bookstore in London published their book catalogue, and Sibylla had been waiting impatiently for it.
The catalogue had finally arrived yesterday together with her book trunk and several editions of the London Times. Ever since then, she had been leafing through it every free minute she had and marking all the titles that interested her.
The servant knew her mistress disappeared into another world whenever the Lackington Allen list arrived. But the house had changed, become empty and quiet since Emily, Victoria, and Firyal’s departure. Nadira missed their faces.
“It was two months ago today that Miss Emily and Miss Victoria went on board,” she started again as she took the two mother-of-pearl combs lying on the table and pushed them into Sibylla’s hair. “How long did you say until they arrive in London?”
“If the weather is good, they should arrive any day now. I’m sure Emily will write to me immediately. But it will take several weeks more before her letter reaches Mogador.” Sibylla again leaned over her catalogue.
“Astonishing that the qaid’s soldiers haven’t found the saffron thief yet. I’m sure he’s long gone by now,” Nadira remarked.
That got Sibylla’s attention. “I hold out hope that he’s caught and receives his proper punishment!” she said.
Neither the breakin at her home nor at her office had been solved, a fact that caused her great distress. Almost every night, Sibylla was tormented by nightmares about a black shadow that followed her through the alleys of Mogador and lay in wait in the rooms of her house.
“Who are you? What do you want from me?” she would demand. The shadow would whirl around and throw back the hood of his cloak, but before she could recognize him, he would vanish and she would awake, drenched in sweat. After that, she would wander restlessly through the house, look into every room, and make sure that all the doors were bolted.
“All finished, my lady.” Nadira was smoothing a few wrinkles in Sibylla’s tunic when there was a knock at the door.
Sibylla closed the catalogue and rose. “That must be John. We plan to have breakfast and go to the harbor together.”
But it was the voice of the gatekeeper who called. “My lady, a messenger has brought a letter for you!”
Sibylla’s heart began to beat faster. Perhaps André had finally written to her! How she longed for news from Qasr el Bahia. But since Aynur’s death, André seemed to have withdrawn completely.
Nadira went to the door and took the letter from Hamid, who waited respectfully on the threshold.
“It’s from Emily! She posted it in Lisbon,” Sibylla said in surprise, taking the envelope in her hands. She opened it, unfolded the long letter, and skimmed it in joyous anticipation. Her eyes grew wide.
“Oh, my lady! Did you receive bad news?” Nadira asked.
Sibylla stared at her numbly. “I cannot call it good.”
“What do you mean, my lady?”
Sibylla took a deep breath and swallowed. “Emily and Dr. bin Abdul have married. The captain of the Queen Charlotte married them—three days after they left Mogador.”
“God be praised!” Nadira was delighted, but when she saw her mistress’s expression, she fell silent. Sibylla looked shattered.
“You are not happy, my lady,” Nadira observed.
Sibylla raised her shoulders. “Is there reason for me to be happy when my daughter elopes as though she did not trust me? Is there reason for me to be happy when she marries in secret and presents me with a fait accompli? And to think Captain Comstock was complicit in this plot! The next time he comes to Mogador, I shall have a serious talk with him.”
She looked again at the sheet of stationery. The tearstained words swam in front of her eyes. Her servant placed a cup of steaming tea in front of her, but Sibylla did not touch it as she processed more outrageous news still.
Emily revealed that not only had she and Sabri eloped, but they planned never to return to Mogador because Sabri’s family was so vehemently opposed to their union.
She thought back on the evening before Emily’s departure. She had intuited her daughter’s aggrievement and now she reproached herself bitterly for not having pressed her about it. What if she could have prevented this precipitous flight?
She quickly reread the end of her daughter’s letter.
Sabri and I left the Queen Charlotte in Lisbon. We know that we shall be happy together, Mummy, but we cannot bear the thought of forever being separated from you. I beg you to help us, even though I know that I have disappointed you terribly. But if you go to Sabri’s family and convince them to forgive, we will be able to return home. If anyone can persuade them, then it is you, Mummy. Please help us! Sabri and I love each other; we have not committed a crime!
Dearest Mummy, I will wait in Lisbon with Sabri and pray that you send us good news soon!
P.S. Victoria is with us. She wishes to forgo London and return to Mogador because she misses Charlotte and Selwyn too much. But she has said that she will stay here until we get word from you.
Sibylla took a breath, folded the letter, pushed it away from her, and groaned as though struck.
“My lady!” Nadira cried in alarm.
“Emily writes that she might never be able to return home.”
“Almighty God!” Nadira gasped. “But our little girl cannot leave her family!”
Sibylla thought frantically. “I wonder,” she finally said, “if the Abdul bin Ibrahim family have received a similar letter. Sabri is their only son. I cannot imagine they will so readily renounce him just because he’s married a Christian girl. Sabri too has a mother who is about to lose her child and surely she is as unwilling to accept that as I am!” Sibylla stood and pushed her chair back forcefully. “I shall go speak to Sabri’s mother at once. Nadira, you’re coming along. Together we will find a way to help our children!”