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 for threatening his own standing with the Porte. Marianne Sant'Anna, secret agent, had disguised herself as a pregnant woman in order to spin her somber web more busily than ever…
And he was actually going so far as to make her removal a secret condition of an important diplomatic agreement! It would have been extremely flattering if it had not been so absurd. But it was worrying as well, because to achieve his ends the twenty-eight-year-old ambassador was prepared to make light of the protection of a queen.
Marianne's position was all the more dangerous because it would not be hard for a small group of determined men to enter the Morousi Palace secretly at night, carry her off and smuggle her on board ship. For all its medieval battlements, the palace was utterly unguarded. Its doors were ever open and the servants almost without exception were as old as their mistress. Moreover, its main entrance gave directly onto the Phanar waterfront. The captive could be carried from her bed to a boat while she was still half asleep.
Marianne felt the ship move gently under her feet, tugging at her moorings with a small creaking sound that was like an unobtrusive call, or perhaps an answer. It seemed to be begging her to set sail. After all, why not? Why should she not put to sea in her ship, with her friends? Not for Egypt, no. There was nothing for her there. But for the Morea… Why not go to meet Jason and save him from the necessity to come to this city he had hated instinctively and did not want to see?
"Well? Have you decided? Shall we go?"
Hester spoke a little anxiously, reminding Marianne abruptly of her presence. She gave a little shiver and glanced around quickly, shaking her head.
"No. I can't. Whatever the danger, I must stay here."
"You're mad!"
"Possibly, but there it is. Don't be cross with me, Hester, and please don't think I don't appreciate what you have done for me. I am truly grateful to you for the warning—"
"But you don't believe a word of it! You're very much mistaken if you think Canning threatens idly. I know him too well to doubt that he will do precisely as he says—to both of us."
"I do not doubt it for a minute. I have learned to know him also. Indeed, I may have to go, but not to Egypt. There is no reason why I should, you must see that. The best, the most sensible thing, would be for me to go back to France or to Tuscany—"
Almost before the words were out of her mouth she was regretting them, for a gleam had come into Lady Hester's eyes. Surely that passionate traveler was not going to offer to go with her, perhaps disguised as a man if need be and carrying a forged passport? Much as she liked the tall Englishwoman, Marianne found the prospect less than alluring, foreseeing it as an endless source of trouble of all kinds. But the light in the gray eyes vanished as swiftly as it had come, like a lamp snuffed out.
Hester rose in her turn, unfolding her long limbs and bringing her turban within an inch of the ceiling.
"If that Latour-Maubourg of yours had not pointed out all the innumerable diplomatic complications that could result from my being in France," she said with a sigh, "I would have made you take me with you and reveled in it. But it would be asking for trouble. Only think it over again, my sweet, and ask your friends' advice. In any event, I shall not be going for another three days yet. You still have time to change your mind and decide to spend the winter in the Egyptian sunshine. And now we had better go and find poor Meryon before his patience runs out. The poor boy can't bear to let me out of his sight for a moment."
But when they reached the quayside Dr. Meryon had disappeared, and Marianne, who had some reason for not sharing Lady Hester's belief in her all-powerful charm over the young physician, could not suppress the thought that he had made the best of his opportunity to escape. Perhaps he had gone to pay a farewell visit to the Kapodan Pasha's adorable wife?
One hour later, having left her friend to carry her disappointment back in solitude to her house at Bebek, Marianne was closeted with Jolival in the Morousi drawing room pouring out the tale of all that she had just learned.
Arcadius heard her out in silence, nibbling his mustache as was his habit when he was thinking deeply, but not seeming otherwise much perturbed.
"So there we are!" Marianne concluded. "At this moment, Canning's plan is to have me expelled from the country officially and unofficially to bundle me away like an unwanted parcel."
"I'd worry more about the unofficial side," Jolival said thoughtfully. "However cool his relations with Napoleon, the sultan is going to think twice before expelling a dear friend of his. I'm inclined to think that if you had his words correctly Canning has been overestimating himself a little there."