Tasha Alexander - Tears of Pearl

“Thank you, Your Highness,” I said. “Do you suspect there is a connection to Bezime’s death?”

“I cannot doubt it,” he said. “I do not think we have two murderers running rampant through my palace. I cannot forgive myself for not doing more to prevent it.”

“Do not be so hard on yourself,” I said. “We all can only make the best decisions possible in a given moment. I, too, wish I could have done something.”

“He must have known she had the letters you found on her body,” he said. “And killed her in a vain attempt to recover them lest his sins be discovered. I regret having cut her so thoroughly out of my life. I should have listened to her better.”

“She knew you loved her.”

“I did not pay attention when she told me she was being threatened.”

“Truly, do not be so hard on yourself,” I said. “All you can do now is ensure that her murderer is brought to justice. May I speak to Mr. St. Clare when he’s in custody?”

“It is not necessary.”

“I want to be certain that—”

“There can be no doubt of his guilt.”

“But what of Bezime’s death? There’s no hard evidence to implicate him. We can’t prove he knew she had the letters.”

He nodded, satisfaction streaming from his eyes. “You think you can persuade him to confess?”

This was not at all what I had in mind—at least not in the way he meant. My desire was to learn the truth, regardless of the outcome. If Benjamin was guilty, I would accept that, but if he was not, my task would be to prove his innocence. For now, I could not believe his guilt a foregone conclusion. My body began to ache and my head to throb as dizziness coursed through me.

“It is worth a conversation,” I said, my mouth dry.

“Yes, I can allow that.”

“Thank you.”

“I must know,” he said, crossing his arms and pressing them hard against his chest. “I must know what happened to Bezime.”

Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside, and the k?zlar aas? started for the door. He opened it to find Colin, who stepped forward, bowing to the sultan before crossing to me and kissing my hand.

“Benjamin is gone,” he said, his voice low as he looked into my eyes. “He’s taken all his field equipment and disappeared.”

“He’s in bad shape,” Margaret said, greeting us at the door of Sir Richard’s house in Pera. “The doctor’s given him a sedative. There was no other option.”

I embraced her. “I don’t know what I’d do without you here.”

“Not have to worry about me being completely undone at the sight of my first body.”

“Your first?” I asked. “So you’ve not sworn off the whole business?”

“Not all the way. But I couldn’t pursue it as you do. I’ve not the strength, and at any rate, Mr. Michaels would be too horrified by it all. I’m rather fond of him, you know, and would hate to drive him to an early death.”

“An excellent policy when considering how to treat one’s spouse,” Colin said, bending to kiss her on both cheeks. “Where’s your chaperone? I must say, she’s not doing much of a decent job keeping an eye on you.”

“Back at the hotel. She had a fit of the vapors as soon as she heard about Benjamin.”

“Not, I’m sure, because she feared he was unjustly accused, but because you’d been socializing with his father,” I said.

“Precisely.”

“I spoke to the ambassador,” Colin said. “If Benjamin is located and stands trial, he’s agreed to be his diplomatic representative in court.”

“Does he believe he’s innocent?” Margaret asked.

“That’s unlikely,” Colin said. “But regardless, it’s important that our government provide him the best possible support. In the case of a guilty verdict, there will be less chance of a feeling of unfairness.”

“You think he will be found guilty?” I asked.

“I don’t see how he could not,” he said.

“But you don’t believe he murdered his sister?” I didn’t like the look in his eyes—half-hard, half-questioning.

“I’m afraid I do,” he said. “And don’t—Emily, I know you—don’t take that as a gauntlet. There’s no need to set off on a quest to prove his innocence.”

“How can you say that?” I asked. “The sultan has Benjamin’s cross, which had been with my jewelry. Whoever stole it could have planted it as evidence.”

“I admit it doesn’t all fit together, but the fact is a witness has placed him on the palace grounds the night of the murder. He had no legitimate reason to be there.”

“That does not mean he murdered Ceyden. Did you find anything of significance in Benjamin’s room? Any indication of where he may have gone?”

“Nothing,” he said. “But I’m going to try to find him.”

“How?” I asked.

“The same way I’d track anyone,” he said. “No time to explain it now. When this is all done, I’ll teach you.”

“You’d better.”

“It shall be difficult to contact you while I’m gone—I’ll be passing through undeveloped areas without telegraphs. No need to worry if you don’t hear from me.”

“Be careful,” I said, fear and hesitation in my voice.

“And you,” he said, taking me in his arms. “I do believe there’s little chance someone other than Benjamin is responsible for Ceyden’s death. But I could be wrong, and if I am, I’ve no idea what may be in store for you while I’m gone. Take care to invite no unnecessary danger.”

And with that, he took his leave from us, heading back to the yalı to prepare for his trip. I felt more empty than I ever had before.

“Are you all right?” Margaret sank onto the sofa next to me. “Your face is gray.”

“I’m worried,” I said.

“Of course you are. He is, too. I don’t know when I’ve seen a man so stricken. Have you any idea what it takes for him to allow you to pursue this sort of work? It can turn dangerous without the slightest warning, and that must torment him.”

“You know well my feelings about anyone allowing me to do anything.”

“Oh, it’s appalling—you know I agree. But the fact is, Emily, he would be perfectly within his rights to stop you.”

“Yet he doesn’t.”

Tears pooled in my eyes, and I did nothing to stop their fall. “It means more to me than anything he could ever do. To be treated as an equal, to be given one’s freedom... what is a greater sign of love and trust and every good thing?”

“What about when it comes your turn to give something back? What if the thing he needs most is for you to refuse some of your independence?”

“You mean if I am...”

“Perhaps then. Perhaps some other time. Do you love him enough to do it?”

“I do,” I said, my voice shaking.

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’m not. Not about loving him, but about ever having to forgo my freedom. I don’t want to believe it will ever be necessary.”

“That’s not reasonable,” Margaret said.

“I am not so worthy as he.”

She rolled her eyes. “You had all my sympathy until that statement. Now I know you’re nothing better than the average romantic fool. And here I thought you were being profound.”

I laughed. Nerves again, but it helped dissolve the tension knotting in me. “You’ve succeeded in distracting me enough that I shall be able to focus my efforts. I think we should begin by giving Medusa a useful purpose. Can you bring her here?”

“You’re joking,” Margaret said. I didn’t reply. “You’re not.”

It took her nearly two hours to convince her extremely displeased chaperone to follow her to Sir Richard’s house. I’d nearly given up hope when Medusa—no, Miss Evans—stormed into the room. Within minutes of her seeing how much the poor man needed assistance, she’d begun organizing the household and directing the cook to make soup. That settled, Margaret and I set off for Yıldız.

“Who do you think took the cross?” Margaret asked as our carriage sped towards the palace.

“I don’t know. Do you think Benjamin murdered Ceyden?”

“No,” Margaret said, not a shred of hesitation in her voice. “I think it was Jemal. She was trying to escape—he would have caught trouble if she had. So he stopped her.”

“But why, then, did he wait until now to come forward?”

“For that question, I have no answer.”

“I think he’s in love with Roxelana,” I said. “And I think she was afraid and persuaded him to stay quiet lest her own attempts to escape would be thwarted.”

“More security at the palace if the sultan knew what Ceyden had planned?”

“Precisely,” I said.

“Do you suspect a servant?”

“Let’s not theorize. I’d prefer firm answers.”

Jemal kept us waiting for nearly three-quarters of an hour before joining us in the courtyard where Ceyden had died. I’d wanted to see him in this setting, to note any changes in his behavior, any discomfort at being back at the site of the murder.

“You’ve chosen an inconvenient time to appear,” he said, folding his arms and standing in front of the bench on which we sat. “I’m in the midst of moving into larger rooms. A reward for my service to the sultan.”

“How fortunate for you,” I said. “What particular service merited such a payoff?”

“That is not your concern. Why are you here?” he asked. “There’s nothing left to discuss.”

“We both know that’s not true,” I said. “How did you get the cross?”

“I found it in the courtyard.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Of course I did.”

I sighed. “You did not find it in the courtyard.”

“I can go like this all afternoon, Lady Emily. Have you nothing better to do?”

“You, Jemal, don’t place enough value on your time,” I said. “If you found it in the courtyard, it was only after you’d placed it there yourself. I know this beyond doubt.”