Mission House
Priscilla entered the bedchamber she and Rodney shared at the run. All of Mission House’s servants were scrambling to make the place presentable for the princess. A runner had arrived fifteen minutes ago to inform Mission House that Begum Sahib appeared to be on her way.
Rodney and Bertram were downstairs and at least appeared ready to receive their visitor, but organizing both men and the household staff had required the full attention of both Monique and Priscilla, leaving little time to dress and prepare themselves.
“Mon Dieu, mais c’est vraiment la putan de merde!” Monique shouted from across the hall.
“I may have only had high school French, Monique, but I sure as hell understand that!” Priscilla said, trying to put on one of the incredibly expensive silken robes she wore for palace visits without messing it up.
From the muted huffing and puffing from across the hall, Monique was stuffing her own curvy frame into a similar outfit.
“Besides, how the hell was I to know she was actually going to take me up on the invitation?”
“You don’t make the invitation at all unless you can be certain you have the means to entertain those you invite!” Monique cried.
“Well, shit,” Priscilla said, frustration bordering on panic squeezing a tear from her eyes.
“Oh, Pris, I’m sorry!” Monique said. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry. There should have at least been some notice from the palace that she was coming.”
The drums stopped.
Priscilla’s and Monique’s eyes met. Jahanara had entered the courtyard of Mission House.
“To steal a word or two from John, ‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’” Monique said.
Glad that Ilsa wasn’t here to complain of Monique’s language, Priscilla checked her image in the very costly mirror Rodney had bought for her. She decided she looked as good as she could without the elaborate hair and makeup the harem seemed to require.
She heard Monique stepping out into the hall between their rooms.
Priscilla gave a final adjustment to her dress and joined the younger woman in the hallway. Monique looked stunning in a robe of pale blue silk that contrasted beautifully with her dark curls and pale skin.
“You have such lovely hair,” she said, reaching a gentle hand to smooth one of Monique’s wayward curls back into place.
Monique smiled. “If only it wasn’t so unruly.” She looked Priscilla over and nodded. “You look lovely.”
“Thanks.” She took a deep, steadying breath and said, “Shall we?”
“God, yes! Who knows what mess the men will get into without us.”
The pair hurried down the stairs and into the central court of the villa. Their timing could not have been better, because Jahanara was just riding through the gate on a tall white horse.
Far too experienced to turn a hair at the unusual situation, Firoz Khan, the administrator in charge of Dara’s harem, was already speaking with Rodney and Bertram.
“An informal visit, only. Begum Sahib wished to make this unannounced visit upon her court favorites and the harem guard Atisheh solely to show her favor for them and take them up on their kind invitation.”
Rodney cast a relieved glance at Priscilla. “Should we leave the ladies to it, then?”
Firoz Khan paused in consideration, then nodded. “If that is the proper protocol when a visitor comes calling, then surely we can do that.”
“Then let’s go,” Rodney said. He looked at Priscilla and smiled. “If that’s okay with you, dear?”
“Of course. Jahanara and her ladies are welcome to stay with us for this visit.” Just because her ladies were a troop of battle-hardened warriors, Smidha, and a maid or two didn’t signify that West Virginia hospitality would not be equal to the task.
Firoz Khan rattled out several commands and then followed a relieved Bertram and Rodney into the fountain room, where refreshments had been laid out for their visitors. The Mission House’s male staff disappeared within moments of Rodney and Bertram leading Firoz Khan and the other eunuchs behind closed doors.
The female warriors dismounted in unison. One woman, almost as big as Atisheh, dismounted and sauntered over to Jahanara’s horse. Taking the bridle in hand she offered her other to the princess, but Jahanara was already sliding out of the saddle to land on slippered feet.
Eyes bright, the princess sauntered to her hosts. Even veiled and covered head to toe, Begum Sahib’s grace and poise were much in evidence.
Priscilla and Monique bowed deeply.
“Welcome to Mission House, Begum Sahib,” Priscilla said.
The rest of her entourage dismounting behind her, Jahanara reached out with open arms and raised them both up. “Please, I but belatedly realized how much of an imposition this is upon you. I’m afraid I am a spoiled brat to descend on you so without prior notification. I hope I did not upset your men too much?”
“Firoz handled them admirably, Begum Sahib,” Monique said. “I do not think Bertram even got a word in edgewise. And Lord knows Bertram likes to talk.”
“And Rodney has always been uncomfortable when my friends would come by. Says he feels like a bull in a china shop when surrounded by my girlfriends,” Priscilla added, smiling.
“I am much relieved to hear it. I’m afraid I’ve made everyone uncomfortable with this visit.”
“Please, Begum Sahib!” Priscilla said. “We invited you to drop by anytime, and meant it. We just didn’t think about what an unusual invitation would mean for your…household.”
“And Firoz Khan mentioned something about you wanting to visit with Atisheh?” Monique said.
Jahanara’s eyes shone with interest over the veil. “If it is not too much trouble, I would very much like to see her.”
“She is supposed to be resting right now…” Priscilla gestured at the second floor, uncertain why Atisheh had not appeared in response to all the noise.
“Supposed to be?” Jahanara asked.
Priscilla turned and led the princess and her party along the gallery to the stairs. “She can be stubborn as a mule, Begum Sahib.” Priscilla gave a small shake of her head. “Of course, that stubbornness is
