Chapter 22
D ressed in one of her new silk caftans and resplendent in her Moroccan jewellery, Melody looked at herself in the mirror in her room. Apart from anything else, these clothes were far easier to get in and out of without Mary’s help. While Melody shared Rat’s concerns about attending the consul’s dinner dressed in local garb, she had to admit that the clothes suited her. While she did not doubt that Fatima would outshine her in every way, Melody felt that she wouldn’t be ashamed to meet the local dignitaries dressed as she was.
Thirty minutes later, Melody, Rat, and Fatima were shown into the consul’s drawing room. There was a small group gathered there already, all of them men. If Consul James MacLeod was married, it didn’t seem as if his wife was with him in Fes. The man himself caught sight of them and crossed the room.
“Ah, Miss Chesterton and Mr Sandworth, I’m so glad you could make it.” Turning to Fatima, his glance full of admiration, he said, “And I see you have brought a beautiful friend with you. How delightful.”
Fatima held out her hand, batted her eyelashes, and said in a sultry voice, “I am Fatima Amrani. My late father was the Moroccan Ambassador to Paris. Consul MacLeod, I hope you will forgive me for attending your dinner without an invitation. I have been hoping to meet you since I arrived in Fes and insisted that Miss Chesterton and Mr Sandworth bring me along.”
Melody had to work hard not to roll her eyes at this blatant flattery and flirtation. However, she had to admit that it worked. The consul kissed the outstretched hand and replied in an equally flirtatious tone, “What could there possibly be to forgive? I can only regret the time you have been in Fes so far when we were not acquainted.”
Turning to Melody, Fatima declared coquettishly, “Why, Melody, you did not tell me how handsome and charming the consul is. I hope that you did not mean to keep him to yourself.”
Unsure how much more of this she could stomach, Melody remarked, “Consul MacLeod, I did not realise that we would be the only women here tonight.”
“Indeed. These are military men whose wives and families are back in Europe, and I am unmarried.” He glanced back over at Fatima, “For now.”
“Is everyone here French, sir?” Rat inquired.
“Not at all. Of course, we have General Paul-Charles Moinier and Colonel Henri Gouraud here tonight over there.” He pointed at two men standing together, both wearing the kepis and high-collared tunics adorned with medals and epaulettes that indicated they belonged to the French military.
Then, pointing beyond them to a younger, very handsome man with dark, close-cropped hair and soulful brown eyes who was dressed in British military uniform, the consul continued, “And over there, we have Captain William Somerset of His Majesty’s armed forces. Captain Somerset is in Morocco currently as a representative of the Foreign Office.”
Perhaps sensing their eyes on him, Captain Somerset turned and began walking towards them. He really was a very attractive man, Melody decided. She couldn’t help but be interested in him. Of course, she thought, Fatima was sure to flirt with Captain Somerset and take all the man’s attention. To her great surprise and pleasure, the man barely glanced at Fatima and instead seemed only to have eyes for her.
As he came to a standstill by their group, he asked, “Consul MacLeod, it is very unfair of you to monopolise such beautiful female companions. Particularly when they are the only ladies at this party. Can I ask that you introduce me, sir?”
While he said this, Captain Somerset never took his eyes off Melody. Pre-empting Consul MacLeod’s introduction, she held out her hand and said, “I am Miss Melody Chesterton, and this is my brother, Matthew Sandworth.”
Irritated at her exclusion from Melody’s introduction and at the handsome captain’s lack of notice, Fatima pushed herself forward. She said in the same sultry voice she used on the consul, “And I am Fatima Amrani.”
Captain Somerset took the proffered hand but gave it an almost cursory shake while barely taking his eyes off Melody. Even if he hadn’t been such an attractive man, it would have been flattering. As it was, his captain’s uniform made the already very handsome man even more dashing. The captain had a deep voice with the clipped tones of the British elite. Was he a duke’s third son or something like that? Melody wondered. Certainly, a career in the armed forces was a common path for such men to take. Perhaps a new flirtation was just what she needed to get her mind off her last romantic disappointment with Alessandro.
“And what brings you and your charming companions to Fes, Mr Sandworth?” Captain Somerset asked.
Ever since they had decided to attend this dinner, Rat had been wondering how best to answer this inevitable question. Fes was not an easy place to get to, and most visitors to Morocco were happy to go no further than Tangier or Casablanca. It wasn’t credible that the three of them had chosen to make the arduous trek through the Middle Atlas Mountains merely to take in the scenery.
Finally, Rat had decided that, as was often the case, sticking as close to the truth as possible was the safest option. “My sister and I travelled to Morocco with our friend, Conte Alessandro Foscari. We were staying in Casablanca at Lalla Fatima’s home when the conte was mistakenly arrested for a crime he did not commit. He was brought to Fes, and we followed him here in the hopes of facilitating his release.”
Melody couldn’t be sure, but she thought that she noticed an expression cross the captain’s face as Rat explained this. If she’d had to put a name to it, she would have said that it was a surprise, but there seemed to be something else that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Perhaps his surprise was explained by his next words. “You made the trek from Casablanca? That is a long and difficult trip, particularly for a well-bred young woman.”
As much as Melody bristled at being thought too delicate to be capable of such travel, the truth was that it had been a long and difficult trip. She wasn’t looking forward to making the return journey, whenever that might be. Could she really be angry at the handsome Captain Somerset for pointing out the truth?
Deciding to err on the side of forgiveness, Melody interrupted whatever Rat might have been about to say in reply. “It was a very long trip and certainly not easy. However, Lalla Fatima has been friends with Conte Foscari for quite some time and felt certain that my brother would have need of her local knowledge and contacts in order to secure the conte’s release. I stubbornly insisted on accompanying them.”
“Something that I can only be grateful for,” the captain said smoothly, executing a little bow as he spoke.
This was all very charming and flattering, but it wasn’t why they were at the party. Melody could sense the irritation and impatience emanating from Fatima at her side. Of course, it was unlikely the other woman would be quite so vexed if Captain Somerset was flirting with her. Nevertheless, Melody knew that they could be using their time more productively. She just wasn’t sure what they might be doing.
Just as Melody was pondering this question, she sensed a new nervous energy in the room. She had her back to the door but could see Captain Somerset glance up and tense. Turning to see what or who was causing such consternation, Melody saw that an elderly, dignified-looking man with a long white beard had entered and was surveying the room. He was dressed in a white djellaba and turban and leant on an intricately carved wooden walking stick. Standing a little behind the man as if out of deference was a young, similarly dressed man. All conversation in the room had stopped, and every face was turned towards the newest guests.
Melody turned back to Captain Somerset, who had quickly schooled his face from his initial look of displeasure. “Who is that man?” she whispered to the captain.
“That is Muhammad al-Muqri, the Grand Vizier of Morocco,” the captain said in a low, tense voice.
“Ah, so he is who was appointed after Madani El Glaoui was removed from the role last month.”
Captain Somerset narrowed his eyes. “You are very knowledgeable about Moroccan politics for a young woman,” he observed.
“It seemed wise to educate myself once we discovered that the Sultan was holding Conte Foscari,” Melody answered as vaguely as she could. She certainly had no intention of letting her trip to the harem be widely known.
It wasn’t immediately clear if this answer had satisfied Captain Somerset. However, after a brief moment, he replied, “You are evidently as intelligent as you are beautiful, Miss Chesterton. Nevertheless, I must excuse myself to go and pay my compliments to the Grand Vizier. I hope we can pick this conversation back up during the evening.” With that, he bowed again and crossed to where the Grand Vizier was now standing, talking with their host, who had left their group to welcome his illustrious guest.
Rat had overheard the whispered conversation. “So that’s al-Muqri, is it?”
“You say that like you know all about the man.”
“You would, too, Melly, if you had listened to anything Alessandro had told us during our trip to Casablanca.”
Choosing to ignore her brother’s judgemental tone, Melody said instead, “Tell me what you learned.”
Rat sighed but replied, “Prior to this most recent appointment, al-Muqri had been Grand Vizier twice before. His most recent tenure in the role was for Sultan Moulay Abdelaziz.”
“The current Sultan’s brother,” Melody interrupted, determined to show that she wasn’t entirely ignorant about the situation.
“Indeed. Al-Muqri's close association with Abdelaziz made it politically untenable for the new Sultan to leave him in the role. Such had been the widespread discontent with Abdelaziz that Sultan Moulay Abdelhafid sought to distance himself from his brother’s former administration and its unpopular policies. However, al-Muqri somehow managed to keep some influence in the new regime. So much influence, in fact, that he has now regained the role.”
Fatima had said nothing up to now, but now she asked, “Why do you think he is here?”
“Do you mean why was he invited or why did he accept the invitation?”
Before Fatima could answer Melody’s question, Rat explained, “From what Alessandro told me, when al-Muqri was last Grand Vizier, he was known for his very pragmatic embrace of France’s influence in Morocco. Indeed, while this position was not popular throughout Morocco in 1908, with many seeing it as a capitulation to foreign interests, his willingness to work with the French is likely the reason that Sultan Abdelhafid has reappointed him now. Unlike his predecessor, al-Muqri’s pro-cooperation stance is now seen as an asset for managing relations with the French.”
Realising that he still hadn’t answered Fatima’s question, Rat continued, “Given that this is a party to welcome Colonel Henri Gouraud, who will now be running the region on behalf of the French Government, it makes sense to invite the Grand Vizier, if he is so pro-French involvement.”
Fatima and Melody nodded at this explanation, which made a lot of sense. Now, they watched the consul lead the Grand Vizier and his companion across the room to meet the two Frenchmen. Captain Somerset did not follow them. In fact, he seemed to have left the room.
Melody looked around at the few other groupings of men. Captain Somerset had not attached himself to any of those. She assumed the captain was availing himself of the facilities and turned her attention back to the Grand Vizier.
“I am assuming that if anyone were able to persuade the Sultan to release Alessandro, it would be al-Muqri,” Melody said almost to herself. Then she turned to Fatima and urged the woman to insert herself into the conversation between the French officials and the Grand Vizier. “As we know, there isn’t a man you cannot charm,” she said in what she hoped was a persuasive voice.
“Except perhaps this one,” Fatima replied caustically. “The Grand Vizier is a traditionalist to his core, and I am sure will be appalled by my very presence here, let alone if I, a mere woman, were to be so bold as to speak to him.”
No sooner had Fatima said these words than she found the consul once more by her side. “Miss Amrani, the Grand Vizier has asked to meet you. It seems that he knew your father many years ago. Would you allow me to escort you over and introduce you?” he said, offering his arm.
“I would be honoured,” Fatima said with a knowing look in Melody’s direction.
As Fatima swept off with Consul MacLeod, Melody turned to Rat. “What do we do now?”
“Well, I see Captain Somerset is returning, so perhaps I should allow the two of you some privacy,” Rat teased. “The man seemed quite besotted at first sight.”
Melody blushed, but Rat’s words gave her an idea. “Why don’t you attempt to find the consul’s private secretary and see if a telegram has arrived yet?”
“Surely Consul MacLeod would have mentioned something if it had.”
“Perhaps. However, the room was quite full when we arrived, so he has probably been occupied greeting his guests for some time. The private secretary may not have known that we were invited tonight and would have no reason to bring the telegram in here. He might even have sent word to the riad.”
That was a lot of perhaps, maybes and mights. Still, if there was even a slight possibility that Rat had received a reply from Lord Langley, it was worth going to inquire.
As Captain Somerset reclaimed his spot by Melody’s side, Rat asked, “By any chance, do you know where I might find the consul’s private secretary?”
Fixing Rat with an inquiring gaze, Somerset asked, “May I ask why you need him?”
“He sent a telegram for me earlier and I wished to see if there had been a reply.” As soon as Rat said this, he worried that he shouldn’t have done so, even to someone who worked for the Foreign Office. He hurried to explain further, “I am the ward of the Earl of Langley. I received word in Casablanca that he hasn’t been well. I have been worried and sent a telegram to ask if he is feeling any better.”
For a moment, Melody was gripped by worry; this was the first she had heard of Uncle Maxie being ill. Then she realised that Rat was merely attempting to account for his urgent desire to check if his telegram had been answered. It seemed as if his ruse had worked. Captain Somerset’s face relaxed, and he gave Rat directions to the secretary’s office.
“I walked by it a few minutes ago, and I saw that he was still there. So, you should be in luck.” Rat thanked him and left.