Jewel of the Thames (A Portia Adams Adventure) by Angela Misri Page B
Authors: Angela Misri
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“Well, I suppose because you are so adamant in your beliefs at so young an age, and because I’ve seen how quickly your mind works. Also, you think … I don’t know, differently from anyone at the Yard these days, and I think we need more of that.”
I blushed at his kind words.
“ And of course, there is your very heritage,” he said, looking round at the room. “I am willing to make a great leap for the granddaughter of such a prolific detective and man.”
I lowered my eyes, unwilling to let him see the tears that threatened to appear at his final statement — it was so much the destiny I was hoping for.
We had just settled the details when my guardian arrived. Brian made his polite goodbyes and winked at me on his way out — the plan was on!
The thrill of this chase must have shown on my face as Mrs. Jones finished removing her shawl. As she gracefully pulled off her kid gloves I noticed that she had removed her beautiful new ring with the turquoise stones and replaced it with an older band.
A prickle of unease ran down my spine, though at the time I wasn’t entirely sure of the cause.
“ You look better,” she remarked, settling into her favorite chair beside the fireplace where Brian and I had so recently been planning.
“ Yes, I am, thank you, and you?” I said, my excitement at the case fading, replaced by a new unease I could not explain.
“ Oh, age has its benefits to be sure, but I confess I am starting to feel its ill effects as well,” she said.
Worriedly, I took a good look at her now and could not perceive any difference in complexion, and I said so.
“Oh, sometimes, Portia, you will find as you get older that it is the restlessness of the soul that drives you, not the body. Quite the opposite of youth.” She sighed dramatically.
I asked whether there was anything I could do to aid with such a problem and she laughed in response, a girlish, tinkling sound. “Oh heavens, no, my dear, and don’t worry yourself. This malaise is most easily solved.”
She shifted in her chair, her eyes taking on a dreamy sheen. “I think it is time I took my ease at one of my more rural homes, away from the hustle and bustle of London.”
Since the busy streets of a large city were one of her purported loves, I filed that statement away without comment and merely nodded. “Where?”
“Perhaps Lyon, I have a lovely apartment there I haven’t been in for years. Or maybe even Cairo.”
“ You have a home in Cairo?” I burst out, unable to contain my surprise at so exciting a destination.
“ I have an arrangement with a friend there, yes,” she answered with a smile. “Would you like to join me?”
“ Very much so!” I said, eyes wide as she described the exotic foods and culture in detail.
“ The kofta , oh there is this little street of vendors in the east end of Cairo.” She shook her head with a smile, taking my hand. “It is indescribably good, my girl, and you would never know about it unless you were with someone who had found it before.
“ The very streets smell like cinnamon, and from the moment you arrive the smells of spice and sugar just seem to envelope you.” She closed her eyes in remembrance. “Even weeks after getting home, all I need to is pick up something I wore there and smell it, and it takes me right back. So too will your very being become infused with the aromas of the East.”
We talked late into the night, planning a fantastic tour in the fall, when the heat would be less of an issue.
By the time Mrs. Jones left, my mind was whirling with images of camels and pyramids and I fell asleep marveling at the tragic circumstances of losing my mother and my home that had brought me such an opportunity.
Sleep, though, brought dreams of a very different nature, filled with jewels and Turkish silks and the splashing of water.
Chapter Thirteen
I woke late in the morning that Saturday, puzzling over the dream. Despite having a grand
I blushed at his kind words.
“ And of course, there is your very heritage,” he said, looking round at the room. “I am willing to make a great leap for the granddaughter of such a prolific detective and man.”
I lowered my eyes, unwilling to let him see the tears that threatened to appear at his final statement — it was so much the destiny I was hoping for.
We had just settled the details when my guardian arrived. Brian made his polite goodbyes and winked at me on his way out — the plan was on!
The thrill of this chase must have shown on my face as Mrs. Jones finished removing her shawl. As she gracefully pulled off her kid gloves I noticed that she had removed her beautiful new ring with the turquoise stones and replaced it with an older band.
A prickle of unease ran down my spine, though at the time I wasn’t entirely sure of the cause.
“ You look better,” she remarked, settling into her favorite chair beside the fireplace where Brian and I had so recently been planning.
“ Yes, I am, thank you, and you?” I said, my excitement at the case fading, replaced by a new unease I could not explain.
“ Oh, age has its benefits to be sure, but I confess I am starting to feel its ill effects as well,” she said.
Worriedly, I took a good look at her now and could not perceive any difference in complexion, and I said so.
“Oh, sometimes, Portia, you will find as you get older that it is the restlessness of the soul that drives you, not the body. Quite the opposite of youth.” She sighed dramatically.
I asked whether there was anything I could do to aid with such a problem and she laughed in response, a girlish, tinkling sound. “Oh heavens, no, my dear, and don’t worry yourself. This malaise is most easily solved.”
She shifted in her chair, her eyes taking on a dreamy sheen. “I think it is time I took my ease at one of my more rural homes, away from the hustle and bustle of London.”
Since the busy streets of a large city were one of her purported loves, I filed that statement away without comment and merely nodded. “Where?”
“Perhaps Lyon, I have a lovely apartment there I haven’t been in for years. Or maybe even Cairo.”
“ You have a home in Cairo?” I burst out, unable to contain my surprise at so exciting a destination.
“ I have an arrangement with a friend there, yes,” she answered with a smile. “Would you like to join me?”
“ Very much so!” I said, eyes wide as she described the exotic foods and culture in detail.
“ The kofta , oh there is this little street of vendors in the east end of Cairo.” She shook her head with a smile, taking my hand. “It is indescribably good, my girl, and you would never know about it unless you were with someone who had found it before.
“ The very streets smell like cinnamon, and from the moment you arrive the smells of spice and sugar just seem to envelope you.” She closed her eyes in remembrance. “Even weeks after getting home, all I need to is pick up something I wore there and smell it, and it takes me right back. So too will your very being become infused with the aromas of the East.”
We talked late into the night, planning a fantastic tour in the fall, when the heat would be less of an issue.
By the time Mrs. Jones left, my mind was whirling with images of camels and pyramids and I fell asleep marveling at the tragic circumstances of losing my mother and my home that had brought me such an opportunity.
Sleep, though, brought dreams of a very different nature, filled with jewels and Turkish silks and the splashing of water.
Chapter Thirteen
I woke late in the morning that Saturday, puzzling over the dream. Despite having a grand
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