African Enchantment (15 page)

‘Dr Walther is supervising the loading of the boats this morning.'

Vainly Harriet looked around for a way of escape but Sebastian Crale was already slipping from his saddle and saying,

‘We shall be away for at least a year and even for such a small party shall be taking three boats. This one will take the foodstuffs. The sacks the boys are carrying aboard now are full of grain.'

He held his hand out to help her dismount.

‘I would rather not. I …'

It was too late. Dr Walther had already seen her and was hurrying across to them.

‘Good morning, Miss Latimer! What a delightful surprise! I hope you have recovered from your disappointment.'

‘Disappointment?' Sebastian Crale looked from the rotund little doctor to Harriet. ‘What disappointment?'

Dr Walther's voice was compassionate. ‘Miss Latimer had hoped to accompany us on our expedition, but Mr Beauvais has refused her permission to do so.'

Sebastian Crale looked down at Harriet incredulously. ‘Is that true? Would you have gone to such lengths?'

Harriet refused to meet his eyes, grateful for the veiling on her broad-brimmed hat.

‘I have no desire to discuss it,' she said tightly, the tears welling unbidden in her eyes.

Sebastian Crale took hold of her hands, imprisoning them in his.

‘Miss Latimer,' he said, ‘will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?' and before Harriet could recover from her stupefying amazement, he lifted her veil and, taking her in his arms, kissed her full on the mouth.

‘A dockside is a strange choice for love-making,' a familiar deep voice said harshly.

Sebastian released a stunned Harriet and turned, angry spots of colour in his cheeks.

‘What the devil is it to you, Beauvais?'

‘Nothing,' Raoul said, his eyes brilliant pin-pricks in a face suddenly brutal, ‘except that I have over ten tons of grain to load on to this boat and you and your inamorata are making the task impossible.'

Sebastian Crale's voice shook with rage. ‘Apologise for that remark at once, Beauvais. You are speaking of my future wife.'

Raoul's eyes flickered from the outraged Sebastian, to where Harriet stood, her hand pressed against her pounding heart, her face devoid of colour.

‘My felicitations. You make a most charming couple.'

‘Thank you,' Sebastian said stiffly. ‘Will the grain be loaded today?'

Raoul's reply was lost on Harriet. She was aware only of his sarcasm; of the contempt in his eyes and of a blazing anger that she could not understand. Aware that another second of his scrutiny would break her self-control altogether, she whirled around and marched to her horse, mounting despite Sebastian's shout of protest.

Furiously she dug her heels in the horse's flanks. What
right
had he to look at her in such a way? It was
his
behaviour that was at fault, not hers.
He
was the one who had returned to Khartoum and his mistress's caresses. If he had been a man of any honour he would have severed the connection immediately. But he was not a man of honour; the whole of Khartoum knew and talked of it, even those who were to be his companions.

She disregarded Sebastian Crale's shouts that she rein in and allow him to catch up with her. Because of Raoul Beauvais she would have to leave Africa. No other course of action was open to her: unless she married Sebastian Crale.

The idea was so amazing that she gasped. Had he really proposed to her only minutes ago? And if so, why? She had given him no encouragement, no indication that such a proposal would be welcome. Sebastian Crale was handsome, debonair, exquisitely mannered and no doubt heir to a fortune. However, he did not make her heart beat faster or her nerves throb as the detestable Raoul Beauvais did. His kiss had been remarkable only for its unexpectedness. Every kiss of Raoul's had seared her very soul. There could be no marriage to Sebastian Crale: no marriage to anyone. She was destined to become an old maid, living in Cheltenham, talking about bonnets and gowns and nursing a consuming jealousy for a girl bought on the auction block as a slave.

Sebastian galloped into the courtyard as Harriet dismounted. Panting for breath he slid from his horse and strode across to her.

‘I hadn't realised Beauvais' words had distressed you so much. The man meant nothing by them. His manner is naturally abusive.'

‘
That
,' Harriet said, struggling for control, ‘ I well know!'

Sebastian frowned. He had not been aware that Harriet was acquainted with Beauvais. He cast it from his mind. He had other, more important, things to think about.

‘Harriet,' his voice was caressing, his hands reaching out once more for hers. ‘ Will you wait for me here in Khartoum, or will you return to England and wait for me there?'

Harriet looked up at him despairingly. ‘I shall not be waiting for you at all, Mr Crale.'

Bewilderment flashed across Sebastian Crale's fine-drawn features.

With her hand still held in his she said awkwardly, ‘ I am very aware of the honour you have done me in asking for my hand in marriage, but I have no desire to marry.'

Sebastian smiled reassuringly. ‘I am well aware of the difference in our stations in life. I have taken it all into account and am uncaring of it.'

Harriet gave a small smile. ‘That is very gracious of you, Mr Crale.'

‘The sooner we break the news the better. There will be storms and tears, but only for a little while. My mother has been urging me to marry for years. This marriage will not be the one she expects but she will grow accustomed to it.'

‘You have misunderstood me,' Harriet said, raising her unhappy face to his. ‘I was not declining your offer because you are the son of a lord and I am the daughter of a missionary. I was declining it because I truly have no desire to marry.'

Sebastian Crale's face was incredulous. ‘But Harriet, I love you.'

Her smile was wan. ‘Mr Crale, you barely know me.'

‘I know enough to want you for my wife.'

‘I am sorry.' Very firmly she disengaged her hands from his and walked swiftly into the shadow of the consulate.

Sebastian stared after her disbelievingly. Instead of being overcome with joy and gratitude, she had turned him down! Him! Sebastian Crale! A man regarded in the highest social circles as an enviable catch in the marriage stakes. A new feeling was born in him. He had asked her to marry him because the idea amused him. Her refusal stirred a stronger, deeper feeling. Miss Harriet Latimer was a rarity and one he would be a fool to let go. There were three days before he sailed south. In three days surely a man of his sophistication would win her heart? He had been too premature in his declaration. He had given her no warning of it: had not paid court to her. With fresh optimism he strode towards his rooms.

For the next three days Harriet found herself besieged. Flowers filled her room; love letters were brought hourly on silver salvers by Jali. A diamond, the like of which Harriet had never seen before, was given as a gift and duly returned. The only safety from his attentions lay in remaining in her room. From her balcony she could see the river bank and, after the expedition to the dockside, could place with ease the three substantial boats being prepared for the trek south. On being asked by Jali if there was anything she required, she asked impulsively for binoculars. They arrived promptly, engraved with her initials – a present from Sebastian that this time she did not immediately return. Despising herself for her weakness, she stood for long hours, watching as boxes and drums of foodstuffs were loaded; as Dr Walther hurried aboard with the sextants and barometers she had seen in his room; as Raoul Beauvais carried aboard books and tightly rolled scrolls that were presumably maps. So her father would have prepared for his expedition if he had been alive. And she would have been with him. Sick at heart she continued to watch until darkness fell.

As the day approached that they were to leave, Sebastian sent frantic notes by Jali and then, to his mother's anguish, knocked personally on Harriet's door, begging her to see him, if only for a moment. Harriet refused.

In the late hours of the final evening inspiration gripped Sebastian. It was because she was not allowed to join the expedition with him that she was behaving so obdurately. He approached Raoul and to the alarm of the other members of the expedition, blows were nearly struck before they had even left Khartoum. Furious and despairing, Sebastian returned to the consulate and the door of Harriet's room.

‘I have done everything in my power to insist that you accompany us,' he said helplessly. ‘Beauvais is adamant. He says no woman is strong enough for such an expedition and I fear he is right. It would be taking you into danger and I would rather die than do that.'

Harriet remained silent, gazing out towards the dusk-dark river and the creamy sails of the boats.

Sebastian groaned. He had a choice: he was not compelled to travel south. He could stay in Khartoum and continue his wooing of Harriet. He could even return with her to England. Indecision tore at him. Even if he stayed he had no guarantee that Harriet would consent to be his wife. Her stubbornness on the subject had been beyond all understanding. And if he didn't journey with Beauvais he would lose his only chance of glory. Beauvais was the finest leader and most intrepid explorer ever to make the attempt at finding the Nile's source. If any man could succeed Raoul Beauvais could. And he, Sebastian Crale, would stand beside him when he did so. His name would be written in the history books of the world.

He said defeatedly through the closed door, ‘ Goodbye, Harriet. I shall contact you in England when I return.'

Harriet sensed that the siege to her heart had finally been abandoned. She opened the door and said softly, ‘Goodbye Sebastian. I pray that you will return safely.'

He clasped her hand for a brief moment, his eyes eloquent, and then strode away. Sadly Harriet closed the door and then returned to the now dark balcony. Magdalene loved Sebastian: Sebastian loved her: she loved Raoul Beauvais and Raoul Beauvais loved his little Circassian. Tomorrow he would sail out of her life for ever and she would never see any of them again. Sebastian Crale would not return to England for her. It had been her refusal of his impulsive proposal that had made his courtship over the past days so determined. He did not truly love her. He would forget her the instant Khartoum faded into the distance.

She slept restlessly. If only Raoul had given permission for her to accompany them. She could have suffered his presence in the exhilaration of such a trip. She could have fulfilled her father's dream. His death would not have been entirely in vain.

Rage and misery fought for mastery. How
dare
he refuse her on the grounds that she was a woman and not strong enough? Surely she had proved her stamina travelling without provisions and with a dying man through the heat of the desert? She doubted if Dr Walther had her constitution: or Sebastian Crale. Sleep came only in brief snatches. At the first light of day she was again on the balcony, binoculars raised to her eyes, watching intently as Raoul's magnificent stallion was led aboard. As mules and camels followed, Sebastian arrived with a coterie of servants. A slim, bespectacled man waved greetings and joined him on the deck of the ship. Then, to Harriet's surprise, she saw a young clerical gentleman arrive. She stared; presumably the other man was a scientist or botanist. What contribution could an Anglican priest make on such an expedition?

Her heart leapt as Raoul emerged on deck, greeting the new arrival warmly. Even at such a distance she could feel the magnetism of his attraction. He stood head and shoulders above Sebastian Crale, a darkly handsome man reducing all those around him to insignificance. Native boys scurried about the decks as the boat prepared to sail. A strong wind blew, filling the sails as the boat eased away from the river bank and out into the centre of the broad river. The two barges carrying supplies followed more clumsily. They were setting off on a great adventure and she, Harriet, was left behind for no other reason than that she was a woman.

The white-collared priest and Sebastian stood in the stern, waving to a small group of onlookers who had come to bid them goodbye. The bespectacled gentleman had disappeared below decks. Raoul stood alone in the prow, legs apart, his hands clasped behind his back. He was going. Within minutes he would be lost to view. Something very like panic rose up inside her and then she gasped.

Gracefully a slim figure emerged from below decks. The wind caught her hair, streaming it behind her as she ran lightly across to where Raoul stood, entwining her arm through his. Harriet's heart began to slam in slow, heavy strokes. He had refused her permission to join them on the grounds that she was a woman. He had forbidden her the opportunity of fulfilling not only her own but her father's ambition. Yet a woman
was
to be a member of the party. His statement to Sebastian that the trek was too dangerous for her had been nothing but a ruse to prevent her joining them. He had not wanted the embarrassment of her presence. Narinda would stand at the fountains of the Nile. Narinda who probably had no more interest in the river's source than Lady Crale. She was filled with a rage that was white hot. This time Mr Raoul Beauvais had overreached himself. She snatched clean underclothes and a change of blouse and skirt and rolled them furiously into a pack. She had no need of anything else. Provisions to sustain an army had been taken on board. She grabbed the gun Raoul had given her, and which had lain, discarded, beneath her bed, and then, raced down to the courtyard and across to the stables. The horse was not hers to take but Harriet was beyond caring. It would be returned – eventually.

She galloped hard through the dusty, mud-beaten streets and out into open country. The Nile ran broadly on her right hand side, the sailing boat and barges clearly visible. The ground near the banks was marshy and she had to veer away, riding through groves of acacias, their white bulbous thorns the only relief against the barrenness of the surrounding desert. The strong wind speeded the boats so that she was soon left far behind. They would anchor at dusk: she would catch them up or die in the attempt.