Her brows arching, Elizabeth asked, “Can he do that?”
George nodded. “Sultans are chosen by their father. They don’t follow the laws of primogeniture like we do,” he explained.
“Does that mean Charlotte’s son could become the sultan?” she asked, her eyes rounding.
Chuckling, George said, “He could, but I rather imagine one of the older sons will be chosen, if he hasn’t already been.” He pointed to the letter. “Go on,” he encouraged.
Holding out the parchment, Elizabeth resumed her recitation.
Ertugrul and David remain unattached, which brings me to the real reason for my letter.
By the time you receive this, you will no doubt be in preparations for another Season. After what happened last year (the unexpected squall that required the Son of Apollo to put into port in Catania), those two young men are determined to make it to London for the Season. They are due to arrive in Southampton on the Sun of Apollo on or around March the 27th. I know your son has sent a note to George to let him know, but in the event that letter goes astray, I wanted to be sure you knew of their impending arrival.
Although David has been invited to remain here, to live in our palaces and continue his work as an architect, I know he is eager to marry. Nothing but an English miss will do for him, though (he is nothing like James in that regard—my boy loves his Sevinc. He never would have been happy with an English girl.)
“Well, this is a relief,” Elizabeth said. “I was beginning to think our boy was going to end up married to one of Sevinc’s sisters,” she added.
George chuckled. “She would be beautiful.” When he noted Elizabeth’s pointed glare in his direction, he quickly added, “But not as beautiful as you.” He was afforded an appreciative nod and a grin before she continued to read.
As for Ertugrul... he has been looking forward to another trip to England since he finished his studies at Cambridge. For the past two years, Zi has said many a time he is free to travel. I believe he wants him to act as a sort of diplomat for the empire.
Ertugrul is happy to act in that capacity, but I cannot help but think he wishes to go to London for other reasons. Architecture for one—he is fascinated by the works of the Adamses—and perhaps to find a wife.
Although he should have a harem by now (made up of daughters gifted to him from viceroys and such), he has avoided the issue by insisting his older and younger brothers be the beneficiaries of those gifts. I cannot help but wonder if—and feel a hint of pride— he has set his mind on taking a wife because he has seen what it has done for his father.
I cannot imagine I am a good example, though, since I was so reluctant to become a sultan’s wife. I have attempted to be a mother for him, though, since his (and Sevinc’s) mother died when they were born. He is too old for a mother now, of course, but I have made it clear I am available to offer advice should he require it.
Neither of my sons have spoken with me the way Ertugrul does, and it does my heart good to know that I can still provide motherly advice to at least one poor young man on this earth.
On this note, I ask that you be open to any queries he might have whilst he avails you of your hospitality. Since you have two sons of your own, I expect you’ll have no trouble offering advice when it’s requested. (The fact that you have two daughters of your own will also bode well. Although I now have one of my own, she is far too young to cause the sort of issues I expect yours have caused you and George over the years.)
Oh, dear—I do hope David has informed you of the arrangements he has promised—a guest chamber for Ertugrul’s use during his stay in London. I would also ask that you use your influence to see to it he is invited to all the very best entertainments. You needn’t be concerned about a language barrier as his English is excellent.
Ahmet has awakened from his nap, and although Zi can entertain him for a few minutes (he lives for that boy’s giggles), Ahmet will require his midday feeding.
Please give George and Adeline my love.
Your best friend,
Charlotte
Elizabeth paused a moment before she refolded the letter. When she glanced up, she discovered George regarding her with an expression of bemusement. “What is it?” she asked.
He chuckled. “I am of the opinion you are going to enjoy the next few months,” he remarked. “Overseeing the potential love lives of not just one young lady but two young men as well?” he added as he rolled his eyes.
“George,” she scolded. After a pause, she added, “I do like a challenge.”
“Oh, is that how you see it?” he countered with a grin.
About to reply in the affirmative, Elizabeth’s eyes suddenly rounded. “David’s letter,” she stated. “Was there anything else in it about this... this Ertugrul?” she asked as she furrowed a brow.
George held up the note from David. “It’s pronounced ‘Er-too-rule,’ I believe,” he commented, managing to correctly roll the second ‘r’. “Charlotte’s letter contained far more information, of course,” he added. “However, our son wished to make it clear that we’re not to treat the sultan’s son any better than we would any other guest in Bostwick House.”
“But... isn’t he the equivalent of a prince?” Elizabeth argued.
George’s head bobbed from side to side. “Probably. But I’ve come to learn from David’s past letters that this Ertugrul is rather humble. He’s not the oldest son, nor is he the youngest. We’re not to fuss, my sweet,” he warned. “We’re not going to move into a larger townhouse or buy a mansion in Richmond,” he added with an arched brow.
Scoffing, Elizabeth inhaled and let out her breath in a huff. “Oh, all right,” she finally said. “But I will see to it he’s in the very best guest bedchamber,” she said.
“And that will do,” George replied, knowing there was really only one guest bedchamber in all of Bostwick House. That it was currently decorated for more feminine tastes meant he expected to begin receiving invoices from drapers and decorators within a week.
Elizabeth could accomplish much in a day.
