Tasha Alexander - Tears of Pearl

I did not wait to hear another word. We hailed the first available carriage, paying triple to motivate the driver to rush. Once through the palace gates, we were admitted to the harem, where there was none of the usual clamor of voices and laughter. Perestu received us in a small salon in her apartments, her face drawn, no spark in her eyes.

“It is good of you to come. We’ve suffered more tragedy today.”

“Who? What happened?” I asked.

“Jemal. The same as the others, with a bowstring.”

“And because the method has not changed, Mr. St. Clare is suspected again?” Margaret asked.

“We are not so unsophisticated. The guards searched Jemal’s room and discovered a bundle of letters—written to him by Mr. St. Clare.”

“May I see them?” I asked.

“If you wish, but there’s no need. They prove that Jemal was letting him into the palace to meet with a concubine—Ceyden, obviously. And that he was accepting regular payments for granting the privilege.”

“And there’s no question they were written by Benjamin?” I asked.

“None. The first is signed—it came shortly after Mr. St. Clare had assisted in rescuing the ladies whose boat capsized in the Bosphorus. The handwriting on the others is a perfect match.”

This was disheartening, and I could feel myself taking it harder than perhaps was reasonable. Too many troubling thoughts tugging at already fraught emotions; never before had I felt so scattered. I hardly knew Benjamin, had no reason to take more than a professional interest in his situation, yet coming to a point where his guilt seemed inevitable stung me, and not only because it would prove my instinct wrong. A wave of nausea hit me, and I clung to the arms of my chair to steel myself against it, unaccountably feeling as if I were about to burst into tears.

“Where was the body found?” I asked, my voice strong despite my spinning head.

“In one of the gardens. I’ll have someone take you.”

There wasn’t much to see. I searched the area—not looking at the body, which had already been covered with a makeshift shroud—and then went to the eunuch’s room. Beyond the letters, there was nothing of interest. The ordinary possessions of a man. As for his correspondence with Benjamin, there could be no question of the relationship between them. Jemal was taking bribes.

“What do you think?” Margaret asked, whispering as we walked through the palace gates, headed to the docks on the Bosphorus.

“There’s still no absolute proof, of course, but...” The water’s beauty eluded me entirely. “I’m afraid it doesn’t bode well.”

“Motive?”

“He could have killed Ceyden because she’d decided not to run away with him, and Jemal because he’d decided to stop accepting bribes.”

“Poor Sir Richard.”

“Although...” I stopped walking. “Why, if Ceyden was already dead, would he need continued access to the harem?”

“Maybe it wasn’t a question of bribes,” Margaret said. “What if Jemal had threatened to blackmail him?”

“Jemal had already given evidence against him. Killing him would have made little difference at this point. And why, if Benjamin fled after suspecting he’d be arrested, would he have returned to Constantinople?”

“Jemal might have had further proof—something more solid.”

“And tested Benjamin by coming forward with just a bit of it first?” I considered the possibility. “Maybe. But it doesn’t sit right, somehow.”

“What, then?”

“What if Benjamin wasn’t in love with Ceyden?”

Fired with new enthusiasm at this revelation—for I considered it nothing short of just that—I turned on my heel and went straight back to Yıldız.

“Roxelana?” Margaret said as we walked to the harem. “In love with Benjamin?”

“She found Ceyden’s body and may have even witnessed the murder. Think on it—if she was the one trying to escape, with her lover, and Ceyden happened upon them. Ceyden, who wanted more than anything to gain the sultan’s attention?”

“So do we confront Roxelana?”

“I’d wager she knows where he is,” I said. “That’s why she’s so keen to make her escape right away. She wouldn’t be doing it if she had nowhere to go. What a fool I’ve been!”

“I thought you were going to send her to London?”

“I was. I told her I’d help her in any way I could, assuming that she had no other options.”

“So you think Benjamin is somewhere, skulking about, waiting for her?” Margaret asked.

“It wouldn’t surprise me.” For an instant, I was horrified by my thoughts, because I realized that more than a small part of me was hoping they could pull it off. Escape. Find happiness together. Had my moral compass gone completely wild? We’d reached the sitting room in the harem. Roxelana came through the door only a few minutes later and sank next to me on a settee.

“I did not expect to see you until—” Her skin had lost its glow, her eyes were dull. “Is something wrong?”

“There are many things wrong,” I said. “I need you to start being honest with me. You were the one meeting an Englishman in the harem. Benjamin.”

“I—I—”

“Spare me denials. I have a great deal of sympathy for you, but I cannot tolerate deception. You have misled me at every turn and in doing so may have destroyed Benjamin’s chance at exoneration.”

“Please, Lady Emily.” She had started to cry. “I will tell you anything—”

“Yes, you will,” I said. “Starting with Ceyden and her cache of jewelry. Where did she get it?”

Roxelana was crying too hard to answer.

“You must stop,” Margaret said, passing her a handkerchief. “You’ll draw attention to yourself.”

“You’re right.” One last sob spilled out of her as she dried her eyes. “The jewelry was mine. All of it, so far as I can tell. I saved every piece I got—much of it was given to me by the sultan. Ceyden hated that he favored me. She used to follow me, torment me. Thought it was unfair that he would choose me when I didn’t want him.”

“She was jealous,” I said.

“Terribly,” she said. “When I met Benjamin, the world opened before me. I never lived before the day he pulled me from the waters of the Bosphorus. He paid Jemal to deliver letters to me, and when we could stand that no longer, he paid more for Jemal to sneak him into the palace so we could see each other.”

“And Ceyden discovered this?”

“Yes. I caught her in my room. She told me a pretty story about coming to me for advice—flattered me. I fell for it until later that night when I realized all the letters Benjamin had written me were gone.”

“She took them?”

“Yes, and she admitted it when I confronted her. Said she’d given them to a friend who would hold them for her, someone who wasn’t in the palace. That she would use them against me.”

“But the jewelry?” I asked. “You were planning to use it to finance your escape?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you get Perestu’s ring?”

“I had nothing of Perestu’s.”

“It was a large sapphire in a round bezel encrusted with diamonds.”

“I do remember it. Jemal gave it to me. He told me it had been a gift to him from a friend.”

This gave me pause, but I could not stop to think. “Why would Ceyden take your jewelry? I’d think she wouldn’t do something to hinder you.”

“She stole it the day I was planning to leave,” Roxelana said. “I’d sewn everything into a gown—that’s what you found—thinking I could wear it and arouse no suspicion. But when I went to get dressed that evening, it was gone. I was in tears when I went to meet Benjamin, unsure if we’d be able to carry out our plan. She followed me that night, stood in the shadows as we spoke. We didn’t know how we could go without the jewels, and that’s what she counted on. She stepped forward and laughed at us. Said that she’d taken them in case I slipped out too easily—she didn’t want to miss her opportunity to catch us in the act. And then she started to call for a guard...”