Chapter 31 #2
“Pardon me,” Elizabeth approached with a determined air. “Your drawings are beautiful. Might we…that is, could you refer us to someone with equal skill that we might commission for my travel journal?”
The girl looked up, instinctively moving to cover her sketches. “Your words are kind,” she replied hesitantly, her accent lending musical charm to the words. “My art is not worthy of such honor.”
Darcy stood a few steps away, close, whilst the delicate cultural negotiation unfolded.
Stepping around a pot of flowers, Elizabeth lost her balance. Fortunately, she caught herself, but in a charmingly nonsensical way that cracked the girl’s reserve. The young artist’s laughter joined Elizabeth’s, bubbling like water from a spring.
“I am Aylin.” She smiled shyly. When the introductions were completed, the girl conferred with her companion, Fatma, in Turkish. Turning to Elizabeth, she said, “Perhaps I could introduce you to my art instructor. His young assistant might serve your needs.”
They followed Aylin and Fatma to a different part of the city, where they were introduced to Ali.
He proved to be a man of considerable talent and graciousness, understanding immediately what the English visitors required and recommending his assistant with generous praise.
Beyond that, he expressed pleasure with the cultural exchange their request represented.
“Art speaks all languages,” he said in precise English.
“When British visitors appreciate Ottoman beauty, when Ottoman artists record the English, this builds bridges between worlds.”
Darcy and Elizabeth concluded arrangements for the artistic work, and Aylin surprised them by offering additional assistance. “If you would like,” she said timidly, “I know the finest seamstress in all of Constantinople. The silk she works with defies description.”
Elizabeth and Mrs. Bell were joyous. After weeks of travelling in practical clothing, the prospect of commissioning a garment that was beautiful and exotic held considerable appeal.
Their obvious eagerness left Darcy and Elizabeth’s father with little choice but to acquiesce, so Aylin and Fatma again led them down the foreign streets.
The seamstress’s workshop was everything their new friend had promised.
Beautiful selections of cloth flowed like liquid beneath the owner’s skilled hands.
After much deliberation and consultation, Elizabeth chose a cream silk, which appeared to glow with inner light, and another in a deep sapphire blue that she hoped would make her appear positively regal. Prudence chose light green.
“Four days,” the seamstress announced through Aylin’s translation. “Four days to create gowns worthy of Ottoman princesses.”
On the following day, they explored some of Constantinople’s magnificent architecture. When they returned to the ship, they learned that a messenger had delivered a formal invitation from Aylin’s father.
“Osman Ahmeto?lu requests the honor of our company for dinner this evening,” her father read from the elegantly scripted note. “He wishes to welcome the English visitors who have shown kindness to his daughter.”
Much as Elizabeth anticipated the experience, a flutter of anxiety shot through her. An Ottoman household followed vastly different cultural customs. The potential for misunderstandings seemed enormous.
Her concerns proved prophetic when they arrived at Osman’s magnificent home that evening. The house was a marvel of Eastern luxury with intricate tilework, flowing fountains, and carpets so beautiful they seemed almost too precious to walk upon.
The first misunderstanding occurred almost immediately. As they were led toward the main reception hall, Colonel Fitzwilliam strode forward confidently in his polished boots, his posture erect and proper. Elizabeth noticed several servants exchanging glances, and their host’s smile disappeared.
Aylin stepped forward gracefully and smiled sweetly at the colonel.
“Forgive me, honored guest, but perhaps you would be more comfortable if you use the house slippers. It is customary to remove shoes before entering a reception hall as a sign of respect for the sacred space where we welcome friends.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately sat to remove his boots. “My sincere apologies. I had no idea. Of course, I am happy to comply.”
“Many foreign guests do not know this tradition,” Aylin said. “Please do not feel uncomfortable.”
The elaborate welcoming ceremony produced another cultural misstep.
When their host offered refreshments—delicate glasses of sweet sherbet, small cakes that were beautifully decorated, candied fruits, and small cups of aromatic coffee—Elizabeth and Mrs. Bell displayed proper English politeness by declining all but the minimum.
One tray after another was offered. “You are most kind, but we do not wish to impose,” Elizabeth said with what she thought was appropriate modesty.
“We have already received such generous hospitality,” Mrs. Bell added with a gracious smile.
Their host grew increasingly irritated with each refusal, and the servants again seemed confused. An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
Thankfully, Aylin provided gentle guidance once more.
“My dear English friends, in our country, a host offers refreshment and expects it will be accepted. To refuse suggests you find our hospitality unworthy or our home inadequate. Please, you would bring my father great joy by accepting his gifts.”
Understanding their blunder, Elizabeth said, “We meant no disrespect.” She quickly accepted the offered cake. “Where we come from, a polite guest does not wish to appear demanding.”
Prudence nodded emphatically as she took a second cup of coffee with delight. “We are deeply honored by your father’s generosity.”
Osman gradually softened from offense to understanding to approval. “Now I see the courtesy beneath your foreign manners: different lands, different customs―but the same desire to show respect. Come, we shall feast together. You will tell me of your homeland while I share the best of mine.”
What followed was one of the most delightful evenings of their expedition. The meal was a revelation of flavors and textures unlike anything they had ever eaten, while the conversation ranged from politics to poetry to the shared challenges of raising daughters in a changing world.
The evening’s highlight came when Aylin, at her mother’s request, coaxed beautiful, haunting tones from a traditional Turkish instrument. This led to an impromptu musical exchange with Elizabeth on the pianoforte that transcended all language barriers.
“I believe,” Osman said as the evening concluded, “that music, art, and friendship need no translation. You will always be welcome in my home.”
Darcy and Elizabeth’s father reciprocated the invitation with sincere warmth.
The following days passed in a blur of discovery and friendship.
The group, guided by Aylin and Fatma, visited gardens where water danced in the fountains and workshops where craftsmen created wares unchanged since Byzantine times.
They were amazed by vistas where the meeting of two continents was visible in a single sweeping glance, a spectacular sight.
Throughout their exploration, Ali’s assistant created stunning illustrations in Elizabeth’s journal. The travelers experienced everything from Turkish baths to traditional Turkish dancing to spice markets that assaulted the senses with their exotic abundance.
Their final day in Constantinople dawned bright and clear, and their first stop was to retrieve the ladies’ gowns from the seamstress.
Elizabeth gasped with pleasure when she saw the finished creations.
The silk for both gowns had been crafted in a style that was both Ottoman in its elegance and flattering to their English figures.
“These are works of art,” Elizabeth noted. “I shall treasure these gowns always.”
She was unaware that her father, with Aylin’s help, had returned to the dressmaker’s shop and ordered additional items for her in a rainbow of colors.
To Elizabeth’s obvious delight, she now had an elegant new wardrobe consisting of an exquisite ball gown, several day dresses, and a traveling gown.
She obtained slippers and accessories to match and packed them all away under her father’s bunk. Darcy had done the same for his sister.
Their last day in Constantinople was spent in explorations, with Aylin visiting favorite spots one last time and making solemn promises to correspond.
They spent a poignant final evening with Aylin’s family. Their host teased Darcy about his initial formality, the colonel about his boots, and the ladies about their polite British manners. All replied with good humor that would have been impossible at their first meeting.
“You English,” Osman said with twinkling eyes. “You come to our city like soldiers preparing for battle, all rigid attention and careful manners. But see how much more pleasant you become when you remember that we are all simply people seeking friendship.”
Darcy laughed at the good-natured mockery. “You are correct, sir. I am learning that true dignity lies in openness to new experiences and respect.”
The change in him was notable, and he was grateful for it. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he knew joy.