The Serpent's Daughter (3 page)

Chloe Kennicot pounced on the topic. “You have no idea how pervasive this dreadful belief in
jinni
is, Mr. Tremaine. It governs their lives. One must not whistle, because that’s how these spirits speak. You must fold your clothes at night or they will wear them.”

“Sounds like a good way to get children to do their chores, right, Mother?” said Jade. Inez did not reply.

“One must avoid blood at all costs,” added Mr. Kennicot. “It is terribly haunted. Salting meat keeps the
jinni
away.”

“But meat in the markets is never salted because some of the butcher’s best customers are
jinni
and it would not pay to offend them.”

Everyone turned to see this new speaker. A slender young man of moderate height stood behind Mr. Kennicot and next to Inez. A wayward strand of blond hair peeked out from under his straw hat. It was echoed by a well-groomed brushy mustache that just covered the top of his lips. Jade couldn’t see his eyes behind the darkened glasses, but his face looked pale.

“Pardon me for interrupting your charming breakfast,” he said. His voice was hushed and mellow, like a person used to speaking quietly. It reminded Jade of a librarian’s voice. “I could not help but overhear the end of your conversation and had to intrude. It’s a topic I find fascinating.” He nodded to everyone at the table. Libby Tremaine flashed him a broad smile, and Jade could have sworn the girl batted her eyelashes at him.

“Not at all, Mr. Bennington,” said Inez as she raised her hand to him. He took it and bowed over it, displaying very old school manners that Jade knew would impress her mother. “I was hoping you would join us. But where is your aunt? Is she not leaving her room again today?”

“Alas, Aunt Viola is not feeling particularly well this morning. She is unused to these warmer temperatures and refuses to go out until evening. Even then I doubt I’ll get her to stir much, since she’ll likely fret over the night air.” As if to comment further on the rising temperature, he pulled a kerchief from his trouser pocket and mopped his brow. A small English coin tumbled out and onto the café floor. Chloe leaned over to retrieve it for him, but Mr. Kennicot stopped her with a solemn shake of his head.

“I am forgetting my manners,” said Inez. “You know everyone else here, but you have not met my daughter, Jade. Please allow me to introduce you to her. Jade,” she said, turning to her left, “this is Mr. Jeremy Bennington. He is traveling with his great aunt from England to the Continent.”

“How do you do?” said Jade. She didn’t hold out her hand, as she detested having it kissed or bowed over.

“Charmed,” replied Mr. Bennington in his breathy whisper. “Your mother spoke of you on board ship, but I see she did not do you justice.”

“You will join us?” asked Inez.

“Alas, no. I only came out for a breath of air and a newspaper. I do not get out much. Aunt Viola will be expecting me to read to her over her breakfast.”

“Sorry you have to stay so shut away, Bennington,” said Mr. Tremaine. “Must be quite a drag.”

“Yes,” agreed his wife. “We’d just
love
to have you join our little party.” To Jade’s disgust, the young bride actually pouted at Mr. Bennington.

He made a delicate shrug. “If the truth be known, I am engaging a hired nurse to escort my dear aunt back to London. It is painfully obvious that her condition is beyond my care. If I do secure this nurse, then I shall only be in the way.”

“Then perhaps you can come along after all,” said Walter. “We’re thinking of forming a touring party today to the caves or someplace equally haunted by those
jinni
. Sounds like good sport. I know Libby is very rah-rah about it.”

“Then you should also go to see Azilah,” Mr. Bennington said. “From what I read, it was built on the ruins of an ancient Phoenician city. I’m told it has delightful old passages running underneath that are, of course, the abode of your
jinni
, since they are underground. But I fear you must make your plans without me today.” With that parting bit of advice, he bowed to the ladies and walked back toward his hotel.

“Such a fine young man,” declared Inez. “So devoted to his great-aunt. She is a charming lady herself, although I only saw her at table once. I believe she gave her nephew the evening off to write his own letters. But he has stayed so shut away inside that I imagine such bright light disagrees with him.”

That would explain the dark glasses and the pale skin, thought Jade.

Mr. Tremaine signaled the waiter, then took out his wallet from his jacket’s inner breast pocket and extracted a few bills. “Well, I for one intend to see these Caves of Hercules and anything else associated with these so-called
jinni,
if I can manage to get a guide.” The waiter, a gaunt-looking Moroccan in a white robe, approached. Mr. Tremaine paid for the breakfast and dismissed both the waiter and Inez’s protests with a flap of his hand. “In fact, I might just have some fun and see how many Moroccans I can scare by making them think I’m a
jinn
myself. Threaten someone with an old evil eye, eh?” He glanced around the table. “Anyone else game?”

Jade scowled. “That sounds like a childish prank, Mr. Tremaine. We are guests in this country.” She heard her mother gasp.

Libby edged closer to her husband, as if rallying to his defense. “I hardly see how razzing them hurts anyone. These are ignorant people. They should be shown how foolish their silly belief in genies is.”

Jade made one huffing snort of disbelief. “Now, there is a perfect example of the unwashed calling another person dirty.”

“Jade!” scolded her mother.

“It’s true, Mother,” Jade said, raising her hand to token no more interruptions. “All of you are equally guilty of superstitious belief.”

A round of disclaimers and affronted gasps went round the table, excepting Mr. de Portillo, who leaned his chin on his folded hands and watched Jade.

“I am an ordained reverend,” declared Mr. Kennicot. “How dare you accuse me of being superstitious.”

“Then why did you stop your wife from picking up that coin? I’ll tell you why. It’s because it fell tail side up, and that’s bad luck. And your wife invoked a very old superstition when Mr. de Portillo sneezed earlier. I believe people say ‘God bless you’ because it was thought the soul flew out of the body when you sneezed and a devil could enter in.”

Walter Tremaine chuckled. “She’s got you there, Kennicot. But,” he added as he turned his eyes on Jade, “just how am I guilty of any hokum?”

Jade smiled. “You keep a four-leaf clover in your wallet. I saw it when you paid for the breakfast. By the way, thank you very much. You also knocked on wood earlier when you told your wife you wouldn’t be led astray by a temptress. And I saw your wife cross her fingers when you spoke about getting a guide for the caves.”

“And myself and your esteemed mother?” asked de Portillo. “Are we also guilty?”

“Well, Mother threw spilled salt over her left shoulder, but to be honest, Mr. de Portillo, I cannot recall any such superstitious expression on your part. So I correct myself.”

De Portillo’s lips twitched in what may have been amusement or perhaps scorn. Jade couldn’t tell, so well did he mask his emotions. Like her mother, he wore a studied expression of polite indulgence to those around him, an expression worthy of royalty granting an audience to lesser nobles.

“You are indeed charming, Miss del Cameron,” he said with a bow. “Your mother’s praise did not do you justice.”

Walter Tremaine rose and held his wife’s chair. “I’m sorry to break up this swell morning, but if we want to see the Caves of Hercules, we must be off to hire a guide.” He tipped his hat to the others, exposing a mop of straight brown hair, long on top and short on the sides as was currently in vogue among young men. “If anyone should care to join us, you will find us in front of the hotel in an hour.”

“I shall not be in your party, pleasant as it sounds,” said de Portillo, rising from his own chair in deference to Libby Tremaine’s standing. “I must make my own arrangements if I am to carry out my business. I am again in Morocco to see about exporting more of the wonderful leather that they make here. In particular I must make ready to journey to Marrakech.” As the Tremaines left, he walked around Jade with head high and shoulders back and bowed to Inez, taking up her right hand and kissing it. “Doña del Cameron, I trust we will see each other again. I understand you are going on to Andalusia in a day or so. If you remain there for longer than a week, I should be able to join you. I believe you have my card.”

Inez inclined her head in a graceful bow. “I do, Don de Portillo. And you have mine. It would be a pleasure for us to receive you at my cousin’s estate.”

De Portillo bowed again to Mrs. del Cameron, to Jade, and lastly to the Kennicots. “Good luck to you both. If nothing else, I’m sure you will have a very interesting experience among the Berbers.”

The Kennicots inclined their heads in token bows, then rose as one from the table. “Breakfast with you has been most interesting,” said Mr. Kennicot with a sideways glance at Jade. “We won’t be leaving Tangier for another day at least. I’m sure we will both see you again. Good day.” He tipped his hat, took his wife’s arm, and they left.

Jade waited until they were out of earshot for the scolding she knew would follow. She wasn’t disappointed.

“Jade! How could you be so rude to my guests?”

“Mother, I was not rude. You wanted me to stay and engage in conversation. I did!”

“By insulting them.”

“I didn’t insult them, Mother. I spoke the truth. After hearing Tremaine babble on about fooling the natives, I’m almost ashamed to be an American. Yale graduate,” she said with a snort. “That boy probably majored in dad’s money. And did you see his wife flirt with your Mr. Bennington? Is this your idea of polished society?”

Inez gasped. “A
lady
is gracious to
any
guest. Jade, I sent you away to England to gain some manners, and I am despairing of it ever happening.” She waved her hands in a sweep that encompassed Jade from head to toe. “Look at you in that old brown skirt. It’s hardly suitable for a breakfast engagement. You dress as if you were on safari. You don’t even have a hat or gloves.”

Jade took a deep breath to contain her mounting exasperation. “I don’t need any polish, Mother. I’m not a floor. And I’m not dressed for a safari. On safari I’d have on trousers and I would wear my big old felt hat.”

“You embarrassed me in front of these people.”

“Mother!” Jade took a step towards Inez, her hands outstretched. Inez took a step back and Jade let her hands fall. Right. No public displays of affection. “Mother, these people are a perfect example of our problem.
You
say a lady would know how to be gracious to them, but
I
say anyone with sense wouldn’t bother with them to begin with.” She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, her black waves jiggling around her face. “You are a smart woman, Mother. Why do you insist on inflicting these boors on yourself and,” she added, “on me?”

“I had hoped that becoming friends with Lady Beverly Dunbury would have taught you proper society manners,” said Inez, referring to Jade’s friend, whom she’d first met during the Great War. “Instead, you seem to be corrupting her into joining your wild escapades.”

“Wild escapades?” Jade took a deep breath and calmed herself. “Mother, have you forgotten your own youth? Dad said you used to outride him all over the countryside. You knew how to shoot and fence, and once raced a stallion halfway across Andalusia to win a bet.”

“I don’t recall doing any such nonsense. But even when I did practice fencing and shooting, I always dressed and behaved as a lady. Why haven’t you let your hair regrow? Only women of poor morals wear hair cropped like that.”

“It’s more practical, Mother.”

“And that horrid mark on your wrist,” she added, pointing to Jade’s crescent lion’s tooth tattoo, which she’d received from a Kikuyu shaman during her naming ceremony. “How could you do such a thing? I cannot imagine what Mr. Bennington or Don de Portillo would think if they ever saw it. No decent man will want to marry a woman with such a marking.”

Jade flung her hands up in front of her. “So that’s it. You want me to marry one of those two. Mother, I love you dearly, but no. I thought you invited me here to spend time together before we went to cousin Ramone’s estate. I’d hoped you were finally ready to accept me and my life, but you’re still trying to mold me into some … some parody of yourself.” As soon as the words erupted from her mouth, Jade regretted them. They might be true, but saying them was only going to make the situation worse.

“I am thinking of your best interests, Jade.”

“I’m sure you think so.” Jade collected her bag, an old cloth satchel containing her new Kodak camera and her notebook.
Good Lord, I’ve made a hash of this now
. “I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t intend to have words with you.” She pointed down from the terrace to the busy streets below. “I want to see the shopkeepers. Will you come with me to the souks?”

Inez turned aside, arms folded across her chest, chin out, a hurtful look on her proud face. “I have another appointment, ” she said. “I should call on Mr. Bennington’s aunt. I would invite you, but you would probably consider it too dull for your adventuresome tastes.”

Jade rolled her eyes heavenward.
Why didn’t Dad come?
“Very well, Mother.” She kissed Inez on the cheek before her mother could pull away. “See you for lunch?”

Inez shook her head. “I will still be out of sorts with you then. I’ll join you for afternoon coffee. Be at the hotel lobby at four, and don’t be late. You know I cannot tolerate people coming late for appointments.”

Jade watched her mother walk away, her back stiff with pride. She sighed. How many times had she tried to impress Inez, only to receive this same response? Yet Jade knew if she pretended to be a proper, sedate lady, her mother would still be disappointed.
All these years and we don’t know each other, Mother
.