Page 21 of One Perfect Dance
He seldom took laudanum, or even alcohol unlaced by opium, telling Regina, “Once I start taking it regularly, Regina, it will affect my mind. I’ve seen it happen to others. When I’ve taught you and William all you need to know, then perhaps.”
He was determined that she and her brother would be well-prepared to manage the businesses and other investments that grew their wealth. Indeed, since the attack that had nearly killed him and had left him permanently disabled, Regina and her brother had taken over much of the work—Regina for the Paddimore holdings, and William for the Kingsleys.
Gideon was still the final authority, as William’s trustee until he turned twenty-five and as Regina’s husband. More and more, he was expressing any disagreement with their decisions as a point of view to be considered rather than a correction. Twice, after vigorous discussion, they had changed his mind.
William and Regina had been thrilled, and Gideon said he had never been prouder.
*
Cairo, January 1811
The sounds ofthe city dropped away as the three men entered the house in Cairo, with its thick walls. Ash and Rex stopped to take off the European clothing they had donned for the funeral to do honor to one of their two remaining men-of-all-work, a companion in travel for seven years, who had died of a fever.
In the more comfortable robes of Ottoman gentlemen, they went out to sit in the inner courtyard, where a large jug of freshly squeezed juices waited.
Rex lifted a finger to attract one of the silent servants who squatted on his heels in the shade. “Ask Mr. Fullaby to join us, please.” Fullaby was the last man-of-all work, and the only other English person in the house. He should be here, grieving with them.
Of the seven who had set out from England, only three were left. After Beckham, Mitterrand had been next to go. He’d tried to sell Rex to the French authorities when the Peace of Amiens collapsed, but Ash overheard his plotting with the innkeeper and the officer in charge of the town where they were staying. The rest of Rex’s party escaped and fled up into the mountains and across the border into Spain.
One of the men-of-all-work had fallen in love with a local woman in Greece and stayed behind. Rex had pensioned his valet off a year ago, paying his passage back to England with a letter for Rex’s bankers that would leave him comfortably situated for the remainder of his days.
Rex and Ash could afford to be generous. Over the years, they’d sniffed out business opportunities and political information. Their investments and their travel stories earned both of them a nice income. They were not rich, but they could afford to travel as they pleased and to live well while they did so.
They were also on the payroll of the Foreign Office, though that money was being held for them in England and went back into their investments. Ash had long since ceased drawing a salary as secretary, but Rex continued to insist on taking their travel and living expenses out of his allowance from the duchy. He called it, with no small bitterness, “the money the duke pays me to stay away from England.”
Fullaby arrived to argue about whether he should be sitting with the gentlemen, but gave into Rex’s persuasions, and they sat in the cool of the courtyard next to the splashing fountain. At first, they talked about their deceased friend, but that led to discussion of their travels so far and where they might go next.
It was not until later that Ash found the local British representative had sent over the mail while they were out. Two of Rex’s sisters had written, as had their publisher. And Ginny Paddimore, whose occasional letters were like a breath of home. Much though he loved seeing new places and learning new things, there were times he ached for England’s changing seasons, verdant pastures, leafy trees, and all the dear, familiar things of his birthplace.
He began a reply immediately.
Dear Regina,
I was so pleased to receive your letter and delighted that you and Mr. Paddimore enjoy the little stories that Rex and I tell of our travels. Thank you for the slippers. Rex and I are in awe at your talent with a needle and will wear them with great pride.
Your letter arrived at a sad time. You may remember me mentioning Melling, who came with us from England. I am sorry to report that he caught a fever here in Alexandria, and the local physicians were not able to save him. We will miss him, Rex, Fullaby, and I. The four of us have become very close during our travels, and we did not expect to leave him behind in this strange if beautiful and fascinating land.
I enclose several sketches that Rex and I have made of the wonderful sights we have seen here in Egypt.
These were the originals of illustrations they had made for the third volume of their travels. The pyramids, rising out of the desert. The sphinx, with its head of a human and body of lion, broken nose and all. A row of camels silhouetted against the sky as they traversed a sand dune,dhows, river cruisers, andfeluccason the mighty Nile.
He wondered if young Geoffrey would take some of them to decorate the walls of his chambers.
Rex wandered into his room, already talking. “Muhammed Ali has come through at last, Ash.”
Muhammed Ali was theWali,the Ottoman viceroy of Egypt. Rex had been attempting for weeks to charm the man into allowing their party to leave Egypt and cross the Levant and Syria for Persia. TheWalihad taken some convincing that the English travelers could not be co-
opted to help educate his military and bureaucrats in European ways. An ambitious man, Muhammed Ali.
“We leave in two days,” Rex said. “Is that a letter fromthe sylph?”
“We have several letters,” Ash told him. “I’ll read them to you.” He handed over the slippers intended for Rex. “Mrs. Paddimore made you these.”
They spent a pleasant half hour over the letters from England, and then returned to the topic of their departure. “If Ali had let us go a month ago, perhaps Melling would still be alive,” Ash said, though agues and fevers could happen to anyone, anywhere.
Given some of the places they had been, it was surprising it had not happened earlier.
*
