Remembering that letter brought back all the fear she had felt then, the sick knot of fear that came with knowing she was all alone, her money running out, no one to help her and nothing of value left to sell. Nothing but a passage to England.
Daphne shoved memories of that day in Tangier out of her mind. She did not want to discuss her mother’s family or the shame of being unacknowledged and unwanted. “Mama never talked of her relations.”
“She must have said something to you.”
Pressed, Daphne admitted, “I know that my grandfather was a baron, but I know almost nothing else. My mother died when I was eight, and my father and I never discussed it.”
“A baron. Do you know his name, at least, or where he lived?”
“No,” she lied.
“But this is shocking! What manner of father leaves his daughter without family, means, or protection upon his death, and does not even tell her the names of her connections?”
“My father was not so harsh as you imply!” Daphne cried, compelled to defend her parent. “He was a vigorous man, and he could not know he was going to die so suddenly. He was the most loving father anyone could have, and you insult me by saying otherwise.”
Viola fell silent. After a moment, she said, “You are correct to scold me, Miss Wade. I am quite chastened. My only excuse is that it makes me heated to see a young lady left so unprotected and made to work, but it was not my business to inquire into your affairs. Please accept my apology.”
She did indeed seem contrite, and Daphne relented. “Of course.”
“Did you remain on Crete after your mother’s death?”
“No, we left the island only a few months later. Papa could not remain there. Too many memories. He was heartbroken when Mama died.”
“And did his grief obsess him?” Viola asked, a strange note of hardness entering her voice. “They were happy, but when she died, did he abandon his duties, ignore his children? Did his grief drive out his sanity?”
Daphne was astonished by this sudden, strange turn in the conversation. “What odd questions you ask! He grieved, of course, but never so much that he abandoned his duties. He never ignored me, nor lost his sanity.”
The other woman shook her head as if coming out of a private reverie. “I confess I was thinking of someone else. I am so sorry. Where did you go when you left Crete?”
“Palestine. We have also excavated at Petra, Syria, Mesopotamia, Tunis, and Morocco. Large excavations usually take many years, but after my mother’s death, my father was never able to settle in one place for very long.”
“But what of society and company?”
“I have not had much of that. An occasional dinner with friends of Papa’s in Rome, but that is all.”
“No parties? No balls?”
“I’m afraid not.” Daphne shook her head, smiling. “I do not even know how to dance. There is not much demand for balls in the midst of the desert. I am more accustomed to the company of donkeys, camels, Arabs, and stuffy old antiquarians.”
“Your life has been a fascinating one, Daphne, but there are so many pleasures you have missed.”
“Perhaps, but I have loved every moment of my life. I do miss my father, but I think he would have liked it that I came to England after he died. He wanted me to see it. That is why he finally agreed to the duke’s offer to come here.”
“Have you seen London?”
“No. I traveled by spice caravan from Marrakesh to Tangier, then a ship to Portsmouth, and straight on to Tremore Hall from there.”
“A spice caravan!” Viola burst out laughing.
Daphne looked at her in puzzlement. “Did I say something amusing?”
Still laughing, the other woman shook her head. “Amusing? Oh, Daphne! You say the most extraordinary things in the most matter-of-fact way, as if traveling by caravans is quite commonplace.”
“Well, it is commonplace,” Daphne said, laughing with her. “Although perhaps not here in Hampshire.”
The other woman’s amusement faded away and she looked at Daphne thoughtfully. “Morocco, Palestine, Crete. I cannot help but think you find Tremore Hall quite dull in comparison?”
“Oh, no! To me, living here is luxury beyond belief. I must confess that I find sleeping on a feather mattress far better than a canvas cot in a stone hut or desert tent.”
