Marianne and the Lords of the East

old cabin, now tastefully restored.'

'There,' Marianne said with a little sigh, making her friend sit beside her on the bunk. 'We couldn't have a better place. No one will overhear us here. You may say what you like.'

Lady Hester, however, seemed in no hurry to speak. She was looking about her, frankly curious.

'Does this ship belong to you?' she asked at last. 'I saw that she was flying your family's crest. I was not aware that you were shipowners—'

Marianne laughed. 'My family is somewhat limited, my dear Hester, and no one goes in for shipping—least of all myself. No, the Sea Witch belongs to a friend of mine, a very dear friend. The ship was captured by the Turks and Her Highness, the Valideh Sultan, who is, as you know, a distant cousin of mine, purchased her and made me a present of her. The flag is a pretty gesture but I can't really think of her as mine— only as in my care for a while.'

'Who is her master?'

'Do not ask me that,' Marianne said quickly. 'I cannot tell you.' Then, to soften the abruptness of her words, she smiled and added: 'Call it a kind of superstition. I'd rather not mention his name until he comes—'

'And when will that be?'

'I don't know. Tomorrow, perhaps, or not for another six months. He has been very ill and is recovering slowly, a long way from here. But that's enough of that. Tell me about yourself.'

But once again it seemed that Hester Stanhope had lost interest in the important communication which had demanded such secrecy to impart. Ever since first setting her high-arched, aristocratic foot on board the Sea Witch, her gray eyes had brightened and her nostrils flared 'like a hound on the scent,' Marianne thought, watching her. So that it came as no great surprise when Lady Hester took a deep breath and, regarding her companion with a mock severity, said: 'Do you mean to say that this ship, which ought to be riding the high seas, is going to stay cooped up in harbor, empty and unused, with her sails stowed, until the problematical arrival of a captain who might be anywhere?'

'Yes, that is precisely what I mean.'

'Then let me tell you it's absurd. And dangerous. You'd do much better to engage a trustworthy captain on the spot, let him get together the best crew you can find and then give orders to set sail.'

'Set sail? But I don't want to. And wherever to?'

'Egypt. With me. I have to go as soon as possible and I need a ship. In the absence of anything better, I was resigning myself to a wretched polacca, but this brig is a godsend!'

Marianne frowned. She had always known of the English passion for the sea but this time she thought that her friend was going too far.

'I'm sorry, Hester. I don't like to disappoint you, but it's out of the question. Quite apart from my condition, which makes it most inadvisable for me to put to sea, the ship does not really belong to me, as I have said, and she does not sail without her master.'

She had spoken almost curtly, expecting argument, but nothing of the kind was forthcoming. Hester's voice held no trace of annoyance as she answered smoothly: 'I said that I must leave, my dear—but you, too, would be well advised to quit Constantinople—or else run the risk of serious trouble.'

Marianne blinked and stared at her friend as if she had taken leave of her senses. Yet there was no indication of insanity on that arrogant, handsome face, only determination and a slight anxiety.

'What did you say?' Marianne demanded, 'I should do well to leave? And why, may I ask?'

'I'll tell you. Charles has told you, I suppose, about my interview with your ambassador?'

'Yes, but I can't see—'

'You will.' Passing swiftly over the details of a meeting which, as it had ended in failure, no longer held any interest for her, Hester went on to describe the sequel to her romantic excursion to the remote yali. On the following day she had received a summons to present herself at the British embassy. Mr. Canning wished to see her.

Somewhat disconcerted by this sudden desire for her company, she had gone at once and Canning had not been slow in coming to the point.

'Lady Hester,' he had demanded, almost before she was well into the room, 'where were you yesterday?'

But Hester Stanhope was not a woman to allow herself to be browbeaten without hitting back and for sheer rudeness her reply was equal to the question.

'Why? Have your spies not told you?'

After this beginning, the interview had soon developed into a battle royal. The ambassador informed his intractable countrywoman that he was tired of her continued intimacy with members of the French ambassador's suite, that he considered the previous day's clandestine meeting as the last straw and that she might thank her position as Pitt's niece that she was not called upon to endure the consequences of her irresponsible behavior—as she surely would be if she did not break off her outrageous friendship with 'one of Bonaparte's mistresses, and a notorious spy in the bargain.'

'So I told young Mr. Canning that I was quite old enough to choose my own friends and requested him to mind his own business. He did not like that at all, you may be sure, and still less when I reminded him that you were a kinswoman of the sultana's and deserved to be spoken of with more respect. I thought he would have had a fit! 'Lady Hester,' he said to me, 'either you give me your word to break with these people, and with that woman in particular, altogether, or I will have you expelled from this city and put aboard the first boat for England. As to that pinchbeck princess of yours'—I'm sorry, my dear, but those were his words—'I'll soon persuade the sultan to send her back where she came from and then, once her ship has left the Bosporus, we shall be able to get our hands on her and see to it that she causes no more trouble.' '

Marianne gasped and could not speak for a moment. She was both angry and indignant but she kept her temper and even managed a contemptuous smile.

'Surely Mr. Canning is deceiving himself a little about his influence with the Porte? Have the sultana's cousin dismissed like a housemaid! Unthinkable!'

'Less than you might think. Canning means to make you the subject of a secret clause in the treaty he will be concluding with Mahmoud, a condition, as it were. And for once Mahmoud will not be asking his mother's advice about it. You will be expelled with the utmost discretion and put quietly on board ship, so that by the time the sultana asks for you, you will be far away and she will have no choice but to forget all about you.'

'But what is this treaty? Do you know?' Marianne asked, feeling the color drain from her face.

'Not precisely, but I have an idea. The rumor is that a Russian fleet is approaching the Bosporus and the Turks are powerless to prevent it sailing right through and bombarding Constantinople if it has a mind to. Canning has asked the Admiralty for assistance and an English fleet under Admiral Maxwell is on its way here at this minute. Do you imagine the sultan will hesitate between the lovely Princess Sant'Anna and half a dozen ships of the line?'

'I thought England and Russia were allies. Or is that only when it comes to fighting Napoleon?'

'Something of that, perhaps. But then there will be no question of the two fleets engaging one another. The mere presence of the English ships should be enough to deter the Russians from going too far against a country under British protection, especially since that country is already prepared to make peace. And so your only chance is to leave with me, you see?'

Marianne rose without answering and went to the brass-rimmed portholes that lit the cabin, where she had stood so many times in the past. But she was not looking at the scene they framed. She had no eyes for the busy harbor and the exotic crowds. She had the curious feeling of being trapped inside a block of ice and her only feeling was a kind of sick and weary disgust.

So the man's world of politics was still harrying her, even after she had abandoned all desire to play the smallest part in it. She was discovering that it was not enough to give up and live as quietly as she had done for the past two months, carrying the child which was her pledge for the future. Even then they would not leave her in peace.

Canning, who from the moment of her arrival in Constantinople had dreamed of sending her back to England as a prisoner to molder her life away in captivity, had not been softened by her condition or the discreet retirement of her days spent in her friend's house. He probably saw it only as a screen for further intrigues, a convenient base