The Map of Love (47 page)

And as I put my signature to the contract Mabrouka’s joy-cry trilled out loud and true and nobody thought to stop her. Sharif Basha’s friend Sheikh Muhammad
Abdu married us, and if any human has the power to bring down a blessing, then truly it is that holy man. The Contracts were in both Arabic and French —

— and though I demurred on some points — for the Contracts made it appear as though I had not enough confidence in his good faith — Sharif Basha said ‘It is better so’ and so it was done. My Bride-Price he gave me in gold coins in a heavy bag which I begged him to keep for me but he is determined it shall be sent to my Bankers in London
.

My head is in such a muddle of feelings and impressions. Shukri Bey and Husni Bey were very gallant and Layla and Zeinab Hanim were so happy that I was glad — alongside my own happiness — to be the instrument of their joy. Mabrouka kept repeating ‘Did I not see it in the cup?’ and I had not the faintest idea what she meant when she asked it of me but I said yes
.

And my husband? He slipped a broad gold band upon my finger and kissed my hand. ‘Two more days,’ he said, ‘and we shall be together. ‘ And my heart thrilled as though it would leap out and lodge within his breast
.

This is to be my last night in this room which has been my home for more than half a year. I have asked Emily to pack all my things, telling her that I am leaving in the morning and will send for her shortly. She is surprised, but I believe she fancies I am going to Alexandria and that after a short stay there we shall be leaving for England
.

Tonight I must also write to Sir Charles
.

24 May

This is the last night that I shall sleep alone. A sweet note was delivered to me a half hour ago from my husband: ‘Sleep well, Lady Anna. Tomorrow you and I have serious business to attend to. ‘ And indeed I shall sleep — or attempt to. But I must record the events of this extraordinary day
.

I left the hotel and found my husband’s carriage waiting, as we had arranged, at the corner of rue al-Maghrabi and rue Imad el-Din. We drove to the Agency, him holding my hand the while. He had already sent a note to Lord Cromer ‘to save a certain amount of explanation’, he said. Upon our arrival we were met by a young gentleman from my husband’s office who was to act as translator. I understood it was the first time Sharif Basha had entered the Agency, and the place, once so familiar to me, grew strange as I saw the consternation on the faces of the staff and how they avoided meeting my eye as we were ushered through and into the Lord’s office
.

Lord Cromer stood to greet us and bowed to my husband but did not offer to shake his hand, and as we sat across the desk from him he came immediately to the point:

‘I understand you wish to get married?’ He addressed himself to me and he spoke with such obvious distaste that I was stung and replied in French so that my husband could understand:

‘We are already married, Lord Cromer. We wish to register the marriage so that it may be recognised in Britain.’

I saw his colour rise but he mastered his anger and asked when the ceremony had taken place. Our young translator rendered this into Arabic and my husband replied — and throughout the
interview Lord Cromer spoke in English, I in French, and Sharif Basha in Arabic. No tea or coffee was offered, no pleasantries exchanged. My husband motioned to his assistant, who brought out a copy of the French marriage contract and placed it in front of Lord Cromer. He studied it briefly and turned to me:

‘Lady Anna,’ he said, ‘do you realise what you are doing?’

If he had been sad or puzzled, I should have warmed to him, but he showed only distaste and anger
.

‘Does Sir Charles Winterbourne know of this?’ he asked
.

‘I have written to him,’ I said, ‘and to my other friends.’

‘This is nonsense,’ Lord Cromer said. ‘And Muhammad
Abdu should have had more sense than to lend himself to it.’

My husband uttered a few curt words
.

‘The Basha says,’ said our translator, ‘that our interest is to register the marriage, not to learn Lord Cromer’s opinion of it.’

‘Lady Anna,’ Cromer said, ‘I think it would be best if we conversed alone.’

I placed my hand briefly on Sharif Basha’s arm and said I did not believe I had anything to say that my husband could not hear
.

‘My dear, you are making a mistake,’ the Lord said, and his voice was sorrowful now, and anxious. ‘My staff will tell you of the young women we find wandering about, having contracted such marriages. They will tell you of their condition —’

When the translator had stopped murmuring I replied that I had heard those stories already and had felt that there was a certain relish in the telling of them. I did not think they were pertinent to me
.

‘Lord Cromer —’ my husband spoke slowly, the translator keeping pace with him as he went — ‘I think I understand something of what you feel. It would not have filled me with joy if my sister had wished to marry an Englishman. In fact I would probably have done everything I could to stop her. Whatever mistaken ideas you have, you seem to have a true regard for my wife and you believe that you are acting in her
best interest. My assurances — and hers — will mean nothing to you now. But —’

‘Sharif Pasha.’ Lord Cromer finally turned to him, his voice gruff but his manner conciliatory. ‘Sharif Pasha, we have not met before, but I have heard of you —’

My husband bowed
.

‘Despite everything,’ Cromer continued, ‘I know you are a man of integrity and a man of the world, and I am sure you are aware — to put it bluntly — of all that Lady Anna stands to lose through entering into this … contract. She is a woman of rank and position. As a man of honour surely —’

‘Lord Cromer,’ I interrupted, for I felt a sudden fear that his words might find their mark — and now it was my husband’s turn to lay his hand briefly on my arm. When he finished speaking, the translator said:

‘The Basha says he is aware of the great honour the lady does him. If she loses position in your society because of this marriage, that will be your society’s fault — and its loss. The Basha is certain that the circles she will be moving in will give her all the consideration due both to her rank and to her position as his wife.’

‘What circles?’ Lord Cromer now erupted. ‘I will not countenance this —’

‘Milord,’ I said, ‘we are already married. If the marriage cannot be registered, we shall have to do without.’

At this Lord Cromer left the room. I fancy he must have consulted one of his gentlemen, for he was absent for a few moments. Upon his return he took up his position once more behind his desk. But he did not sit down. He stood and, glaring down at Sharif Basha, he said:

‘I want you to sign an undertaking that you will not take another wife while you remain married to Lady Anna.’

His tone would have not been inappropriate used to a tradesman whom he suspected of shabby dealing. I felt myself go hot with anger. I was angry on behalf of my husband, but I was also angry on behalf of England — that Sharif Basha would think we all did not know how to behave
.

‘Lord Cromer, this is insulting — I began
.

‘Lady Anna, I must insist. It is clear that you have no idea —’

‘It is already in the contract,’ my husband said quietly, rising. ‘And other clauses too that you should look at. I would be grateful if you could order the finished documents sent round to my office. I believe we have taken enough of your time.’ He turned to me: ‘Madame?’

We left. I am sure Lord Cromer read the Contract. But I am also sure that the reading of it will not for an instant have shaken his belief that he has the measure of my husband — for he is not a man given to self-doubt. In the carriage I started to apologise, but my husband put his finger on my lip. ‘Hush,’ he said. ‘We are the ones who are happy.’

I had a similarly dreadful interview with Emily, whom I sent for as soon as I was installed in the house. She was cross with me, I know, although she did not betray it except by a slight tightening of the lips and a ‘So madam won’t be needing my services any more, then?’ I said indeed I wanted her, in the first place to make sure these two letters — putting them into her hand — would be delivered to Mrs Butcher and James Barrington immediately, and for the rest I would need her as long as she cared to stay, but our circumstances would be so changed that I was not sure whether she would be happy. I have given her three days at Shepheard’s to think about it and then I shall send for her again
.

And it is just as well that she has not been here today, for today was my ‘Henna Day’ and even though I have not actually had henna applied to my hands and feet, as Layla tells me it is démodé at the moment, I have had such a scrubbing and a plucking and a pummelling and polishing that I feel as though my bare limbs alone would light up a room. There have been maids rushing around all day — apart from the women who have been attending to me, and Zeinab Hanim busy with more women in the kitchen as they prepare for tomorrow’s feast, and Ahmad in the middle of it all, and other children I do not know who were all stealing bits of fruit and raisins, climbing over sacks
of provisions left in the courtyard, blowing jets of water at anyone who passed near the fountains, for they knew that today they might do as they pleased and go unpunished. And all the while the singing and the zaghrudas and from time to time Layla would bring something to show me — a gold ornament, a set of crystal goblets or a silver tea service — and say ‘a gift from so-and-so’ and whisk it off again; and the flowers: baskets and baskets of flowers arriving all day
.

Layla told me with some anxiety that I would find our apartments rather bare, as her brother thought I should enjoy furnishing them myself, and I assured her he was right. I had not thought of it before but now I look forward with great pleasure to the choosing and fashioning of the furnishings — and I can draw on my beloved Frederick Lewis for inspiration
.

For tonight I am in a small guestroom, close to Zeinab Hanim’s apartments. She has already looked in on me several times to ensure I was not lonely or unhappy in my strange surroundings
.

I am happy. With a big, soaring happiness that needs to burst into a great song and fill the whole world around me. And indeed I am not lonely — but that I would have wished to share my present joy with one of my old friends, Caroline perhaps …

Sharif Basha sleeps in his own house tonight
.