Scandal's Daughter (6 page)

Rubbing his black-stubbled chin, he glanced up at the crow’s nest then gazed back at the eastern horizon. No ships in sight. Already the last light was fading; the sky was indigo velvet spangled with stars; the
Amphitrite
’s glimmering white wake frothed like lace against the black satin waters. He turned and stared to the north.

“Is possible,” he said grudgingly. “We sail north between Lemnos and Imroz. Wind is good. Before daybreak we reach place for you go ashore. All right, Kyria, we try this, because infidel Turks are your enemies and enemies of all Greece.”

Spitting over the rail, he swiftly crossed himself in the Orthodox fashion and hurried down to the main deck, shouting orders.

Slowly the stars above wheeled as the ship turned. Cordelia glanced back and saw the curving wake, faintly phosphorescent, marking their course. She touched Preston’s sleeve.

“Look! They will see which way we went.”

“We must hope it will fade before they reach this spot. They must be some distance behind. I wonder if it’s your Nemesis or mine hot on our trail.”

“Yours, I’m sure,” she snapped, jerking her hand away from his sleeve, “since it’s a naval vessel. Mehmed Pasha is a retired diplomat. I doubt he can call out the fleet, especially for so trivial a purpose.”

“You don’t regard yourself as a second Helen of Troy?” he drawled. As Cordelia stalked off towards the ladder to the lower deck, he called, “Wait! Once again I beg your pardon, Miss Courtenay. Do try to overlook my unfortunate levity, there’s a good girl. It’s more important than ever that we not come constantly to cuffs if we’re to be stranded together on an unknown shore.”

“It was the best plan I could think of.” She heard her voice waver and made an effort to stiffen it. “I’m sorry it doesn’t meet your approval, but you could have offered your own.”

“It’s a splendid plan, truly. My mind was a complete blank. All I could think of was to beg Vasiliadis for a good meal before I was shot at dawn.”

Common sense won out over offended feelings. “You must eat, whether you’re to be shot at dawn or not. You need to regain your strength before we are marooned.” A horrid thought struck her. “Oh, Mr. Preston, the captain won’t leave us on a desert island, will he?”

“I doubt it,” he soothed her. “He’d have more to gain by stopping and turning us over to the Turks than by abandoning us in an uninhabited wasteland. Don’t you think you might bring yourself to address me as James? In our situation, the formality of Mr. Preston has a displeasing ring to my ears.”

“On the contrary,” Cordelia retorted. An exchange of Christian names was the thin edge of the wedge. If she permitted the least laxity, the least hint of intimacy, he’d begin to think her as immodest as her mother. “To compensate for the impropriety of our situation, we ought to cling to every last possible vestige of formality. Pray excuse me, sir. I shall go to my cabin and pack up my clothes, since I hope to snatch a few hours sleep before we are put ashore.”

“I only wish I had clothes to pack,” said Preston ruefully.

“I expect when we reach land we can buy some clothes. Once we are in Greece it will be safer not to be dressed as Turks, do you not think?”

“Definitely! The sooner I can stop pretending to be a eunuch, the happier I’ll be!”

As she descended the ladder, Cordelia attempted to analyse the words and tone of this last remark. Though she did not much care for either, she didn’t believe him quite such a villain as to force her to his bed. Not that there was a great deal she could do about it, anyway. She had made her decision to allow him to travel with her, and now she had no choice but to abide by the consequences.

Once safe in the cabin with the door barred, she undressed down to the strip of linen fastened around her waist over her shift. This she unwound and, taking the little scissors she used for both sewing and her nails, she unpicked one of the little pockets she and Aisha had made.

The light of the swinging lantern made the tiny diamond sparkle as it lay in the palm of her hand. Its value was a lot to pay for Captain Vasiliadis’s extra sailing time, but his risk had increased since the discovery that they were followed. Besides, a gem might be hard to dispose of in a village or small town. Better to save her ready cash for that. Perhaps she could persuade the captain to give her some Greek coins in change.

In fact, she had better try to drive a bargain. The Greek had treated her very well so far, but should he guess at the wealth she carried he might be tempted. How easily he and his crew could take possession of her diamonds and rid himself of the threat she and James...Mr. Preston posed in one fell swoop, by throwing them overboard.

She shuddered.

A knock on the door startled her. “Kyria?”

“Just a moment, Captain.” She hurriedly dressed and opened the door. “Yes?”

“Kyria, you mention extra pay. I not like to ask, but I am poor man with wife and children, and to arrive late in Piraeus I lose money. Also, must help crew forget seeing you.”

“I understand.” She let him see the faceted stone twinkling in her hand. “I will give you this, which is worth much money, but I shall have to pay for passage to Athens on another ship, so I must ask for some drachmas in exchange.”

“Of course, Kyria.” He named a sum, which Cordelia promptly doubled. She had no idea how much a drachma was worth, but after two years in the Levant she knew a good deal about bargaining.

While they haggled amicably, Preston approached across the deck with a tray in his hands. He headed towards her cabin, so she stepped aside to let him pass.

Reaching an agreement with Captain Vasiliadis which left him satisfied but not gloating, she handed over the diamond and accepted the coins he took from a leather pouch hanging at his belt. With mutual good wishes they parted and she retired into her cabin, turning as she closed the door.

“You drive a hard bargain, Miss Courtenay.” Preston rose from his pile of cushions at the table.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had gone on to your own room! What will the captain think?”

“That I am your eunuch. Just a few hours more. Do come and eat. I have contrived to remember my manners and restrain my appetite despite the heavenly smell of this fish stew.”

“Fish stew again! I am heartily sick of the stuff. You may take my portion with my good will. I don’t suppose there are any apricots left in the basket?”

“Haven’t touched ‘em, apart from the couple I put in my cheeks just now before I went to the galley. Here.” From the breast of his robe, the Turkish substitute for pockets, he drew a handkerchief which he spread open on the table. “I brought them for our dessert, and figs and hazelnuts too.”

“Oh, good.”

After that Cordelia could hardly be so churlish as to insist on his removing himself. While he silently and steadily ate his way through two bowls of fish stew and most of the bread, she nibbled on the dried fruit and nuts. She found she had little appetite.

Having escaped Turkey, she had expected to reach Athens in three or four days and then to be comparatively safe under the protection of the British Consul. Instead she was to be stranded on an unknown shore with a man she mistrusted, utterly at the mercy of strangers whose language she did not speak.

“I wonder how anyone found out we boarded the
Amphitrite
,” she said unhappily. “I hope Ibrahim and the girls are safe.”

“I expect so. You are probably right, the Turkish ship is after me, not you. I’ll tell you what, we shall have Vasiliadis put me off and you stay aboard, go on to Piraeus. I’m used to fending for myself and you’ll be better off without me.”

She desperately wanted to agree, but the words stuck in her throat. Somehow she had come to depend on his presence, on having someone to talk to in English, on the link he represented between her past and her future. Boldly as she had planned to set out alone, the prospect of going on without a companion appalled her.

At least he spoke Greek, she reminded herself. What she said was, “I’d hate to disembark in Piraeus and walk straight into Mehmed Pasha’s arms. He may be on board that ship, even if he didn’t order it to follow us.”

“I ought never to have embroiled you in my affairs,” Preston said remorsefully. “I was at my wits’ end when Uncle Aaron suggested it, but I should have known I’d be more of a hindrance than a help.”

“I cannot blame you for all my troubles.” Cordelia’s simmering resentment came to a sudden boil. “It’s my mother’s fault. If she had no concern for her own reputation, she might at least have considered how it would ruin my life. Oh, how I wish she had left me behind!”

Preston looked dismayed. For a moment he was silent, then he said gravely, “You have had an exceedingly tiring time of it, and I’m afraid tomorrow is not likely to be any easier. Try to get some sleep.”

He piled the empty dishes on the tray and departed. Barring the door behind him, Cordelia was filled with relief that he had not asked any questions about her outburst. Obviously he was aware of Mama’s relationship with Mehmed Pasha but the last thing she wanted was enquiries into the past. Then she wondered whether he already knew all there was to know about the notorious Lady Courtenay. How much had her mother told Aaron about her history, and how much had the jeweller passed on to his young relative?

Too tired to care, she washed her face and hands and was asleep within minutes.

“Kyria?”

Cordelia struggled up through layers of sleep, certain she had only just laid down her head. “Captain? It’s still dark!”

“Please, Kyria, best to go ashore in dark, so no one see my
Amphitrite
.”

She groaned as memory flooded back. “Yes, Captain. I shall get up at once. Give me ten minutes.”

“Is good, Kyria. In fifteen minutes, boat ready.”

So quarter of an hour later, in the chill of darkness before dawn, Cordelia scrambled down a rope ladder into a little rowboat. Once again she was glad of the Turkish trousers. Preston, gone before, steadied her as she reached the bottom and helped her to a bench.

For a moment the dinghy rose and fell alongside the
Amphitrite
, then, at a murmured order from above, the sailors in the stern and bow let go the ropes. With boathooks they pushed out from the wooden wall. They took their seats beside the other two, unshipped their oars, and pulled away.

The land they were heading for was no more than a black bulk against the still starry sky. It seemed to grow larger rather than nearer, but suddenly the keel grated amid a lacy froth. The sailors jumped out and pulled the boat up onto a beach.

“Kyria.” With silent courtesy, one of the men handed Cordelia out. Preston followed with the bundle and the basket.

A sailor said something and pointed to their left. Then they all piled back into the dinghy and a moment later it was no more than a shadow on the water, growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared.

Away to the east, over Turkey, the sky began to pale.

Cordelia shivered. “What did he say?”

“Just what Vasiliadis told us, there’s a village not far off, just beyond that headland.”

Turning her head to follow his gesture, she gasped at the sight of a featureless rocky mass towering above them, its end cut off in a vertiginous fall to the sea. She swung round. The landward side of the cove was even higher, the eastern end perhaps a little lower. A hundred feet, two hundred, three, it hardly mattered. Unless they sprouted wings or fins, it was an impassable barrier.

Chapter 7

“Not far in a sailor’s terms,” James Preston said wryly. “Hop in a boat and row for a few minutes. Can you swim?”

“A little.” Cordelia blessed the Conte di Arventino, who had let her learn. “Not well enough to swim right round that headland. Will the tide go down?”

“Not much. The Mediterranean, including the Aegean, has very little tidal rise and fall.”

“At least it won’t come up, then, and trap us against the cliffs,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “Wh-what shall we do?”

“I know the first thing I shall do now I’m no longer a eunuch.” With a grin he started to untie his his girdle.

“W-what?” She backed away.

“Get rid of all this damn...dashed padding.”

Cordelia turned her back. “I meant what shall we do about escaping from this horrible place.”

“Don’t despair. It’s always possible a fishing boat may pass close enough to hear us call. At worst, I can try to swim for it and bring back help. But we won’t try any desperate measures until we have had a look at the cliffs in broad daylight.”

“You really think we might climb up?”

“I’m not making any promises, but in my youth I used to climb the cliffs in Cornwall for fun. Though they often looked impossible until one studied them closely, there was usually a way up.”

“For fun!” Startled, she turned. Fortunately he was just retying his girdle, strips of cloth strewn around him on the beach.

“Regarded with the right attitude,” he said, “many unlikely occupations can be enjoyable.”

“Yes, it’s true. I have always enjoyed marketing, which Mama considered an abominable chore. I shall endeavour to enjoy the climb if we decide to do it.”

“Good girl! In the meantime, let’s find shelter from this breeze, which feels as if it comes straight from the North Pole. I have breakfast in the basket.”

“Thank heaven. I was beginning to think most uncharitable thoughts about Captain Vasiliadis rushing us off without a bite to eat.”

Preston laughed. He picked up the bundle, she took the basket, and they found a spot in the lee of a big rock which was perfectly shaped to lean against if they sat on the sand. They had a good view of the sea, in case a boat should happen by.

Before she sat down, Cordelia took off her veil. “No more need for this,” she said, half glad, half regretful.

“Wait, don’t throw it away. We are still in Turkish country and sometime it may be convenient to hide behind it again.” As he spoke he unwound his turban. “I shall keep this. The tarboosh is sufficiently like the cap some Greeks wear to pass, I hope. I shan’t wear it to climb, though. It will only fall off.”