Tasha Alexander - Tears of Pearl

I looked up, and as I met the caretaker’s eyes, he turned his back, blushing to his fingertips, then walked away from where I knelt and stood sentry in the main doorway to the building, his back to the interior. Fortunate and desired though this outcome was, I found that I could not readily cast away the emotions I’d summoned. Sinking farther down, dropping my head onto my clasped hands, I prayed as I had before, this time not undercutting my bargain: me for Ivy.

Finished—and shaking—I struggled to my feet and went to the windows, inspecting the grilles. They were held in place with latches, like shutters. Checking over my shoulder to ensure I was not being watched, I opened one. A simple task. Even the hinges, smooth-moving and silent, cooperated. Shooting another glance behind me, I tried to open the window. This took more effort, and I nearly lost my balance trying to push the sash, but eventually I managed. The drop to the ground was not terribly far and would set a person in a gallery that led from outside to the mosque.

I closed the window, but not fully, leaving enough room for me to slip my hand in and open it from outside. It was not the best plan, but I saw no other immediate way to escape the building. We would have to consider ways to improve upon it—distractions or something. I wished Colin were not gone. His suggestions would be invaluable, and he would be able to look at this space and see six safe but hidden routes to safety. Then I remembered that he would not approve of any of this in the least, and a sinking, twisting feeling in my stomach told me I would have to do this on my own and apologize after it was done.

After taking a careful study of the rest of the room, I thanked the caretaker, pressed another coin into his hand, and walked the perimeter of the building until I reached the part-open window. Margaret was tall enough that she’d be able to reach it without problem. I planned to give Roxelana a set of simple clothes and a veil that she could hide under her skirts, switching into them when she was supposed to be dressing after her measurements had been taken. She would wear traditional Turkish clothes to the mosque—garments that would not require assistance to put back on—and take them with her when she went, so that as the eunuchs searched for her, they would be looking for someone in the wrong outfit.

Once outside, she would have to make her way down the ramp that led to the building. The main risk she would take was being seen dropping from the window. The area outside was not crowded like the mosque’s main courtyard, but another diversion here would be helpful. If she could reach the Grand Bazaar without being noticed, she would have her freedom.

Cataloging ideas about how we could draw attention away from the building, I walked to meet Margaret, who was waiting for me outside the courtyard—we’d thought we’d make too much of an impression if we both went into the sultan’s lodge—and keeping her away meant she stood no chance of being recognized should I call on her to organize a distraction.

“Do we have a viable strategy?” she asked, leaning against a stone wall.

“The beginnings of one,” I said. “You will be instrumental in pulling it off.”

“I like that kind of plan.” We walked towards the Grand Bazaar, crossing through its entranceway and into the labyrinthine streets of stalls. “How will you get her out of the city?”

“I’ll hire a coach—closed—to meet us. We’ll figure out the best place. First, though, let’s decide where she should sit and wait for things to calm down.” Within minutes, we’d found a stall that sold baklava and tea. The chairs and tables set up in front were filled with both men and women, so it seemed as appropriate as any other spot. “I’ll wait for her here.”

“Veiled, of course,” Margaret said.

“I shall consider it. There’s nothing wrong with having a bit of fun in all this, is there?”

I went to Yıldız after finishing our work at the bazaar. Perestu had sent a note asking to see me. She was waiting in an elegant sitting room and was, for someone who had requested a meeting, surprisingly silent. Her quiet stillness teemed with elegance; even the way she breathed was full of grace, and I could not help staring at her.

“Your careful study of me unnerves me,” she said.

“Forgive me,” I said. “You are unlike any woman I’ve met before.”

She let out a long breath. “You are kind not to press me for the reason I wanted you to come today. I appreciate it, and it makes me think that you are trustworthy. I have two problems and wonder if you can assist me with them.”

“I’m of course happy to try,” I said.

“The first is something that I’ve debated taking to the sultan, but if it’s possible to eliminate the threat without aggravating him, the outcome would be preferable for everyone involved.”

“What is it?”

“There are rumors that someone is trying to flee the harem.”

My breath caught in my throat, and I willed myself to freeze, wishing I could channel Perestu’s grace. “How could such a thing be possible?”

“It isn’t,” she said. “It will be stopped, and the offenders will be punished in the most severe ways.”

“How severe?”

“That is for the sultan to decide. But I can assure you he would show little mercy.”

“Have you any idea who is forming the plot?”

“Not the slightest,” she said. “You’ve spoken with some of the girls and have become closer to a familiar figure here than any foreigner has in the past. I do not ask you to betray a confidence, only that you let it be known that you’ve heard the rumors and have reason to think what’s being planned is a bad idea—that might be enough to stop the ingrate organizing this offense.”

The emotions pummeling me at this moment were as thoroughly unpleasant as any I knew: guilt, embarrassment, anxiety, fear. Not a litany of favorites. I considered what to say, what to do: Should I warn Roxelana and cancel our plans? Force her to continue to live in a circumstance so abhorrent to a woman of her faith?

I realized I’d been quiet too long. “I shall do what I can,” I said, confused and conflicted. “What is the other matter?”

“I want to know how my friend came to lose my ring.” Her voice was soft, quivering.

“Whom did you give it to?” I asked.

“Mr. Theodore Sutcliffe,” she said. “He’s compassionate, full of sympathy. A man whose soul has been so deeply touched with grief that he’s capable of emotions that terrify most of us.”

“I know him,” I said.

“I assumed as much. Do you think you could find out what happened to my ring?”

“Of course,” I said. “That’s no trouble at all.”

“Thank you, Lady Emily. You are more capable than I first thought. I admire your strength.”

19 April 1892

Darnley House, Kent

My darling Emily,

I’ve been doing nothing of late but reading, and have devoured all the books you’d hidden in your dressing room—I told Robert to look for them, remembering it had been an old habit of yours to spirit the raciest volumes off to safety there. Your mother was, as I need hardly tell you, out of her mind when she saw them. Madame Bovary near drove her to swoon. The only thing that saved the poor book from the fire was my own dear husband insisting it was an especial favorite of his. A statement you know cannot possibly be true, but a testament to his love for me. He saw the comfort the novel brought and could not bear to see it taken away.

Other than that, I’m consumed with weakness and more exhausted than I would have thought possible. The doctor is so kind, but tells me nothing of substance, and Robert, try though he may, cannot hide his fear. I pray all his suffering will be erased by the sight of an heir, and that I shall survive to see him.

Apologies for a bleak letter. I’m so very scared—terrified, Emily. I couldn’t bear to let anyone but you know that. I’ve never felt so bad in my life—physically or emotionally. Forgive me, my friend, for so burdening you with my troubles. I’ve nowhere else to turn, as the only thing that could make my plight worse is knowing that I’ve caused Robert more worry.

I send you all my love and miss you very, very much.

I am, your most devoted friend,

Ivy

I could not stop the tears as I read Ivy’s letter and was consumed with panic at the thought of what she still had to face. How desperately I needed Colin’s support. I wished there were some way I could contact him, prayed that he would return soon. Loneliness filled every corner of our yalı, and I had no intention of coming out of our room. I curled up on the bed in a ball around his pillow, breathing in the scent of him lingering on its surface.

My throat burned from sobbing, and when I’d cried so much that no more tears would come, I forced myself up and rang for Meg. There was nothing more I could do for Ivy from here. The best course of action was to focus on my work, finish it as efficiently as possible, and return to England. I only hoped that Colin would be back soon.

Meg fawned over me, pressed a cool cloth to my swollen eyes, refusing to let me dress until I approached something she considered presentable. She went about her work in a fashion much gentler than her usual manner, insulting my scalp with not a single hairpin.

Once dressed, I set off for Pera. The Bosphorus, as if sensing my dire condition, played sweet as well, its waters as placid as I’d seen them since arriving in Turkey. Upon docking, I took a carriage to the embassy, too tired and heartsick to walk, and shortly was admitted to Mr. Sutcliffe’s office.