“I’m sure I don’t, miss.”
“I did it because I knew that one day they would not catch me, and so I must keep in practice for that day.”
The day had come, as she’d known it would, and it had come without warning. During the evening meal, Karim had simply fallen off the divan, clutching his throat, and died. His grief-stricken father, at whose side he’d been sitting, had taken to his bed. Within hours, he, too, was dead.
Zoe hadn’t waited to find out whether or not these were natural deaths. She’d seen pandemonium, and she’d taken advantage of it. While everybody was running about, the women tearing their hair and shrieking and weeping and the men shouting and arguing and threatening one another, she collected her jewels, stole a cloak, climbed out of a window, and fled through the garden.
Jarvis’s voice called her back to the present. “Miss, I do hope you’re not thinking of running away now. Her ladyship gave me strict orders—”
“No, no, I’m not running away.” Zoe came away from the window. “But I never could abide being confined—to the nursery, to the schoolroom. So I always looked for the way out.”
“I suppose, was the house to take fire, it might be useful to know another way out,” Jarvis said.
“But it isn’t what ladies do, I know,” Zoe said. “I’ve always been the contrary and obstinate daughter. When people say to me, ‘No, you can’t,’ I always think, ‘Yes, I will.’ In Egypt it was, ‘No, you’ll never get out of the harem.’ Then I got out, and I was arguing with myself, with the fear, the bad genie in the head: No, you’ll never get safely home. Yes, I will. No, they won’t let you in the house. You’ll never get in. Yes, I will. No, they won’t believe it’s you. Yes, I will. Then today, it was No, you can’t have the life you should have had.” She laughed. “And then Marchmont came and I thought, ‘Oh, yes I will.’ And he said, ‘Nothing could be simpler.’”
“Yes, miss, it sounds like the sort of thing His Grace would say, and I’m sure he knows better than anybody whether it is or it isn’t. Won’t you put on your nightdress? You’ll be warmer. Lady Lexham said we must remember you aren’t used to the climate.”
Zoe stalked to the fire and glared at it. “When I asked him if he was glad to have me back, he said he was. Do you know why he was glad?”
“No, miss, though I couldn’t guess why he wouldn’t be, like everyone else.”
“He said, ‘Did you think I wanted to find that your father had been taken in by an imposter? Did you think I wanted to see him made a fool of?’ What do you think of that?”
“I’m not allowed to think, miss,” Jarvis said.
“He’s changed so much,” Zoe said. “I hardly knew him. He used to be sweet. He used to have a heart. I used to be able to talk to him and laugh with him. He said he remembered me, but he doesn’t, really. And the man I saw today…” She shook her head. “He’s conceited. I used to think he was the cleverest of all the boys, but now his head is empty. Maybe his brain has shrunk. He’s beautiful and desirable and powerful—but I know he will test my patience. I am so tired of being patient with men, Jarvis, so tired of holding my tongue when they’re stupid and obnoxious. So tired of catering to them.”
“Miss, you don’t want to take a chill, I’m sure, and worry Lady Lexham.”
Zoe looked round at the maid. She was holding up the nightdress, her brow furrowed.
Until tonight, Zoe had shared her mother’s lady’s maid. But after Marchmont and the others left, Mama had decided that Zoe must have her own lady’s maid to look after her. The housekeeper had sent up three of the girls she deemed qualified. Zoe had chosen Jarvis—formerly Jane the upper housemaid—because, she said, all she saw in her eyes was truth.
Jarvis wasn’t yet confident of her abilities as a lady’s maid, and Lady Lexham had given enough instructions and warnings to fill the maid’s heart with terror.
Clearly one could not hope to carry on an intelligent conversation with Jarvis while she fussed about the nightdress and her mistress’s taking cold. With a smile intended to be reassuring, Zoe signaled the maid to help her out of her shift and into the nightdress.
When the ceremony was completed and Jarvis had relaxed a degree, Zoe startled her by stroking her arm.
“Where I’ve come from,” Zoe said gently, “we say what’s in our hearts and we touch, as you do not,” she said. “My husband, Karim, gave me a slave, Minhat. With her I could share what was in my heart, as I couldn’t do with the other wives or concubines or slaves. You’re not a slave, but you are my Minhat. If we can’t speak freely together, then there’s no one with whom I can do so. My sisters are all crazy. They all think I’m crazy. None of them can be my Minhat. Wherever I go, you’ll go with me. When I marry, you’ll come with me to my husband’s house. You must speak your heart, always.”
The maid looked wildly about the room.
“Always,” Zoe said firmly. One of the many things she’d learned in the harem was the voice of command. “I have opened my heart to you, Jarvis. It’s your turn. Speak to me as my Minhat.”
Jarvis shut her eyes, then opened them. She took a deep breath and said, “Very well, miss. Here’s what I say. The Duke of Marchmont is top of the trees. Everyone wants him. All the unmarried ladies want to marry him. They say there’s plenty of married ladies who’d disgrace themselves if he crooked his finger. Every hostess in Town wants him at her party. All the royal family think well of him. It don’t matter how conceited he is or if he’s drunk half the time or doesn’t have a heart. There’s only two things you really need to know about His Grace the Duke of Marchmont: One, healwayskeeps his word. Ask anybody. Two, everybody knows he don’t care about much, but what he said to you means he cares about your father. Why else do you think he came to the house today? If I was you, and he was promising to bring me into fashion, I’d muster up all the patience of all the saints and martyrs, because I know he’ll do it, no matter what, or die trying.”
Then she squeezed her eyes shut, as though she expected a blow.
“Yes, this is correct and wise,” Zoe said.
The maid’s eyes opened, one at a time. “It is?”
“My pride is hurt and my feelings are hurt only because he doesn’t remember that we were friends—of a sort—once.”
She had missed him and thought of him. He’d forgotten her. To him, she was only another female. “But that was a long time ago. He’s changed and I’ve changed. We aren’t children anymore.”
“Yes, miss, that’s correct and wise,” said Jarvis.
