his wife have just arrived. They sailed from Falmouth and are expected.’
‘I’ll just –’
He didn’t get a chance to finish as a plump man of about thirty hurried into the hall, radiating self-importance. He had long side-whiskers and thinning brown hair. A bone-coloured suit emphasised his high colour. ‘Thank you, Mr Everleigh,’ he flicked a dismissive hand. ‘You may return to your desk.’
As the clerk retreated, Jago caught Caseley’s eye. Sharing his amusement she bit the inside of her lip.
‘My name is Blaine. I am Sir Douglas’s aide. Good day, Mr Pawlyn.’ He nodded coolly then turned to Jago, offering his hand. ‘Captain Barata, welcome to Alexandria. I hope you had an uneventful journey?’
‘Yes, thank you. Allow me to present my wife.’
‘Mrs Barata.’
‘Mr Blaine.’ His handshake was brief and weak. Caseley guessed it would also be damp and was glad of her gloves.
‘Mr Pawlyn, I don’t think –’
‘I’ll wait here.’ With a cheerful smile Caseley guessed was designed to rile the pompous Mr Blaine, Pawlyn carried the box towards the downstairs office.
After an instant’s hesitation Blaine turned towards the wide staircase. ‘Please follow me. Unfortunately, Sir Charles is unavailable. He was taken to hospital last week. This is a very difficult time –’
‘So I understand.’ Hearing the thread of impatience in Jago’s voice, Caseley hoped the aide had the sense to recognise it. ‘Please convey our good wishes for his speedy recovery. I understand Sir Douglas Collingwood is acting for him?’
Surprise and chagrin chased across Blaine’s face. ‘That is correct.’ He paused outside a door and knocked. As the occupant called ‘Enter,’ he opened the door and led them in.
‘Sir Douglas, Captain Barata has arrived. With his wife.’
Caseley heard the note of disapproval and sighed. In Falmouth widows took over management of their husband’s businesses and young unmarried women worked in offices. Mr Blaine’s manner betrayed him as a bigot who believed the only proper place for a woman was at home. Where she would be now if only –
She forced herself to focus on the plump man whose red face, shiny with sweat above a white collar and dark cravat, was seated in a high-backed chair behind a large desk covered with papers.
He looked up with a harassed expression. ‘Yes? So?’
‘You received telegraphs, sir,’ his aide reminded, ‘from Falmouth and London concerning a potential meeting with the Bedouin?’
Realisation spread across the fleshy face. ‘Ah. Yes. Of course.’ Pushing back his chair he rose to his feet and extended his hand as Blaine ushered them in. ‘Captain Barata, Mrs Barata, I beg your pardon. The situation – you cannot imagine – we barely have time to breathe. Come to dinner tonight. My private apartments are upstairs. We will talk then. Eight o’clock.’
‘How kind. If your aide could direct us to a good hotel we will not detain you.’
‘He will take you himself.’
‘I have a box of photographic items for Miss Collingwood.’
‘My daughter is presently at the hotel. She will be delighted to receive it. Blaine, see that it’s put ...’ he gestured impatiently, ‘somewhere out of the way.’ He turned back to Jago, his smile fleeting. ‘Now I must beg you to excuse me.’
Chapter Six
––––––––
B laine ordered a servant to take the box to the apartment upstairs. The doorman flagged down two calèches. It seemed to Caseley they had only just settled onto the seat than the carriage was drawing up outside a hotel at the far end of the square.
‘We could have walked,’ she said as Jago offered his hand to help her down.
‘Oh no, Mrs Barata.’ Blaine hurried towards them, shocked and disapproving. Robert Pawlyn followed. ‘That would not do at all. One must maintain appearances.’
Catching Jago’s bland glance, Caseley had to look away, her smile swiftly followed by piercing awareness
‘I’ll just –’
He didn’t get a chance to finish as a plump man of about thirty hurried into the hall, radiating self-importance. He had long side-whiskers and thinning brown hair. A bone-coloured suit emphasised his high colour. ‘Thank you, Mr Everleigh,’ he flicked a dismissive hand. ‘You may return to your desk.’
As the clerk retreated, Jago caught Caseley’s eye. Sharing his amusement she bit the inside of her lip.
‘My name is Blaine. I am Sir Douglas’s aide. Good day, Mr Pawlyn.’ He nodded coolly then turned to Jago, offering his hand. ‘Captain Barata, welcome to Alexandria. I hope you had an uneventful journey?’
‘Yes, thank you. Allow me to present my wife.’
‘Mrs Barata.’
‘Mr Blaine.’ His handshake was brief and weak. Caseley guessed it would also be damp and was glad of her gloves.
‘Mr Pawlyn, I don’t think –’
‘I’ll wait here.’ With a cheerful smile Caseley guessed was designed to rile the pompous Mr Blaine, Pawlyn carried the box towards the downstairs office.
After an instant’s hesitation Blaine turned towards the wide staircase. ‘Please follow me. Unfortunately, Sir Charles is unavailable. He was taken to hospital last week. This is a very difficult time –’
‘So I understand.’ Hearing the thread of impatience in Jago’s voice, Caseley hoped the aide had the sense to recognise it. ‘Please convey our good wishes for his speedy recovery. I understand Sir Douglas Collingwood is acting for him?’
Surprise and chagrin chased across Blaine’s face. ‘That is correct.’ He paused outside a door and knocked. As the occupant called ‘Enter,’ he opened the door and led them in.
‘Sir Douglas, Captain Barata has arrived. With his wife.’
Caseley heard the note of disapproval and sighed. In Falmouth widows took over management of their husband’s businesses and young unmarried women worked in offices. Mr Blaine’s manner betrayed him as a bigot who believed the only proper place for a woman was at home. Where she would be now if only –
She forced herself to focus on the plump man whose red face, shiny with sweat above a white collar and dark cravat, was seated in a high-backed chair behind a large desk covered with papers.
He looked up with a harassed expression. ‘Yes? So?’
‘You received telegraphs, sir,’ his aide reminded, ‘from Falmouth and London concerning a potential meeting with the Bedouin?’
Realisation spread across the fleshy face. ‘Ah. Yes. Of course.’ Pushing back his chair he rose to his feet and extended his hand as Blaine ushered them in. ‘Captain Barata, Mrs Barata, I beg your pardon. The situation – you cannot imagine – we barely have time to breathe. Come to dinner tonight. My private apartments are upstairs. We will talk then. Eight o’clock.’
‘How kind. If your aide could direct us to a good hotel we will not detain you.’
‘He will take you himself.’
‘I have a box of photographic items for Miss Collingwood.’
‘My daughter is presently at the hotel. She will be delighted to receive it. Blaine, see that it’s put ...’ he gestured impatiently, ‘somewhere out of the way.’ He turned back to Jago, his smile fleeting. ‘Now I must beg you to excuse me.’
Chapter Six
––––––––
B laine ordered a servant to take the box to the apartment upstairs. The doorman flagged down two calèches. It seemed to Caseley they had only just settled onto the seat than the carriage was drawing up outside a hotel at the far end of the square.
‘We could have walked,’ she said as Jago offered his hand to help her down.
‘Oh no, Mrs Barata.’ Blaine hurried towards them, shocked and disapproving. Robert Pawlyn followed. ‘That would not do at all. One must maintain appearances.’
Catching Jago’s bland glance, Caseley had to look away, her smile swiftly followed by piercing awareness
Similar Books
