They strolled, the bey pointing out various mosaics and sculptures, which they dutifully-and quite sincerely- admired. Once they had completed a circuit of the courtyard, the Bey ushered them into a small parlor overlooking the courtyard pool, and waved them to fat cushions. Once they’d all sat, he got down to buisness.
“I have a small favor to ask-a minor indulgence if you can see your way to granting it.” He looked from Gareth to Emily and back again. “It is my great hope to visit various European courts next year, and as it is expected and the European way, I will take my wife-my principal wife, the begum-with me. Also my closest courtiers. However, other than myself, and then only as a young man many years ago, we have little experience of European manners. No recent experience at all.” He paused, then fixed his gaze on Gareth. “I was hoping I might prevail upon you and your lady to attend a dinner here tomorrow night, and give us-myself, the begum, and those who will travel with me-instruction in how to conduct ourselves at a European table.”
Gareth blinked, then looked at Emily-read her surprise, and her curiosity, in her eyes. He looked back at the bey, formally inclined his head. “We will be delighted to oblige, Your Excellency.”
The bey was taking no chances. He sent the captain with three others to escort them through the narrow streets to the palace. Given that both Emily and Gareth had dressed for dinner-she in a pale green silk gown Dorcas had unearthed from her luggage, and Gareth in his red dress uniform-and they were therefore very recognizable, it was a wise precaution.
As they left the guesthouse, scanning their surroundings Gareth murmured, “Just as well it’s already dark.”
Emily nodded, and held her cloak tightly closed as they followed on the captain’s heels.
He led them to a different part of the palace complex. Seeing no reason not to, she openly stared about her, noting the intricate carving, the jewel-hued mosaics, the very Arabic beauty everywhere she looked.
Halting at one especially ornate archway, the captain formally handed them into the care of a garishly dressed individual who appeared to fill a position equivalent to butler-cum-major domo. He spoke passable English, and after bowing low, welcoming them and taking their cloaks, he preceded them down a succession of long corridors, past uncountable doors and galleries, to a large, airy colonnaded room one side of which stood open to a treed courtyard.
The room itself was stylishly magnificent, but as they paused in the doorway, it was the people Emily focused on. They were rather magnificent, too, although to her eyes rather less stylish. Indeed, their liking for gold and jewels and ostentatious ornamentation verged on the garish.
The butler caught the bey’s eye, then in stentorian tones proclaimed, “Major Hamilton and the Majoress Hamilton.”
All heads turned their way. Emily kept her smile easy and relaxed. Clearly, they did think she and Gareth were married. Just as well they’d come prepared.
Smiling expansively, the bey came forward to greet them. He offered his hand to Gareth, and shook hands heartily. Then smiling delightedly, he turned to Emily, and paused.
Sensing he was at a loss as to the acceptable manner in which to greet her, still smiling, she held out her hand. “Take my fingers in your right hand, and nod,” she murmured.
The bey’s smile deepened as he smoothly complied, and she sank into a curtsy. As she rose, he patted her hand. “Thank you.” He released her. “It has been a long time and I wasn’t sure.”
He turned and waved to the room at large. “Now come and let me introduce you to the others. All here will be accompanying me on my travels.” He glanced at the women gathered in a group at one end of the room. “Well, all the men. Of the women, only the begum will be with us.”
As the bey led them across the marble floor, her hand tucked in Gareth’s arm, Emily tried to imagine what it would be like to be a woman alone in a different culture…then realized that for all intents and purposes she was exactly that at that moment.
The bey slowed and, frowning slightly, glanced at her. “I do not recall-is it customary to introduce a wife to other male guests?”
Gareth nodded. Emily stated definitively, “Yes, it is.” The group before them was all male. She glanced at the women. “In fact, it’s usually the case that men and women intermingle and converse from now-the pre-dinner gathering in the drawing room-and through the dinner itself. At the end of the meal, the ladies leave the men at the table to drink port or spirits, and talk among themselves, but only for so long. Then the gentlemen rejoin the ladies in the drawing room, and all remain together until the end of the evening.”
Still frowning, the bey nodded decisively. “We must practice all this.”
Thus it was that Emily found herself cast as social directress for the evening. Under her guidance and instruction, backed by the bey’s authority and example, the men-at first rather stiffly-mingled with their wives. Luckily, the women were more amenable to indulging in broader conversation.
Getting the party to go in to dinner in the correct order of precedence was both an education and a challenge. The begum in particular, a sultry, black-haired, sloe-eyed beauty of lush and bounteous curves, many of which were barely decently screened by the gauzy draperies the bey’s female court favored, proved difficult. She seemed to have taken it into her head that as the senior lady, it was her place to choose who sat beside her, namely Gareth. Emily had to be quite stern-and invoke the bey’s authority-in disabusing her of that notion, stressing that, as hostess, she had least say in the matter. She had to have the most senior visiting male-in this case, the vizier-on her right, and the second most powerful, one of the bey’s ministers, on her left.
The begum sulked through much of the meal, but as, being visitors of no real power, Emily and Gareth ended facing each other across the middle of the table, Emily found it easy to ignore the woman’s pouts.
Although at first stilted, around the table conversation gradually bloomed, then blossomed as the men found that the women they normally ignored were, if given the chance, engaging interlocutors.
The reverse, Emily strongly suspected, was also true. These women had barely exchanged two words with most of the men in their respective husband’s circles.
She felt reasonably proud of her achievement. And indeed, from his position at the head of the table, the bey was beaming in contented delight.
Directly opposite her, Gareth caught her eye, and with a slight inclination of his head, raised his glass to her.
