Free Daughter of the God-King by Anne Cleeland

instruction.”
    Hattie thought about what Berry had told her. “Do you think I am the executrix, then?”
    “I have no idea, I’m afraid, but it is another reason to seek him out; if you are not the executrix you will need to speak to whoever is fulfilling that role.”
    “I suppose I shall need to draw upon their funds.” Hattie had never considered such mundane matters in the past, mainly because she’d never gone anywhere nor done anything remotely interesting.
    But Bing shook her head slightly in disagreement. “Your accounts are yours outright, Hathor—to draw upon as you wish. This was made very clear to me.”
    Thinking on this, Hattie smiled at her companion and reflected without rancor, “How strange that they were so generous with their money but not with their attention.”
    “I shall say nothing on the subject,” said Bing, and pressed her lips into a thin disapproving line before she took another bite of dry toast.
    But Hattie was not one to dwell on the past—particularly now that the future seemed to hold a hint of promise, given the glimpse of that simmering emotion—and replied, “Come, now, Bing—they were bringing the wonders of the ancients to the world and I—well, I would have been underfoot. And,” Hattie teased her, “I would never have met you, else. Promise you will not up and marry some no-account suitor, as did Miss Swansea.”
    “I’m afraid I am not the marrying kind,” Bing disclaimed with her slight smile.
    “Well then, this will be as close to an elopement as we’ll come, I imagine. I’d rather not trust the servants with our plans, so please pack a few essential things discreetly—we’ll need to purchase more appropriate clothing once in Cairo, anyway—and we’ll hire a hackney and be well away before anyone has a chance to plague me further.”
    “I cannot blame you for your caution, Hathor. It does seem…” Bing paused, her thin wrists resting on the table. “It does seem that there are powerful forces at play.”
    Hattie was reminded that Bing was no fool, and was obviously drawing her own conclusions. “Yes. And I cannot like the feeling that I am playing blind man’s bluff while everyone else refuses to give me an inch of useful information.”
    “And you mistrust the British authorities.” The statement hung in the air, a hint of a question contained therein.
    Hattie could only reply with all sincerity, “I’m afraid I do, Bing; I have good reason, believe me.”
    Her companion seemed satisfied with this assurance, and returned her attention to her tea and toast. “Then it is settled. I have always wanted to see Egypt, and quite look forward.”
    The bell rang, and Hattie looked up in surprise as it was too early for morning calls. She heard a man’s voice—not Robbie’s—and then the maid came in to announce a visitor who was revealed to be the grey-eyed man, Robbie’s superior. That worthy did not stand on ceremony but strode directly into the breakfast room, his hat in his hand and his expression grave as the women hastily rose. “Miss Blackhouse, Miss Bing—please forgive my intrusion but I am afraid I have unsettling news.”
    “Robbie?” asked Hattie in alarm.
    Contrite, the man paused and held out a reassuring hand. “No—I am sorry to have alarmed you but instead it is Mr. Tremaine’s fiancée—I’m afraid there has been a terrible accident.”
    Hattie stared at him, and then realized she was not, after all, very much surprised. “Madame Auguste? Why, what has happened?”
    The gentleman’s gaze did not waver. “I am sorry to report she has met with a fatal accident; Mr. Tremaine has asked that I fetch you to the embassy so that you can support him at this time—”
    Hattie interrupted with a touch of impatience, “Can you not tell us what has happened?”
    Their visitor shook his head in a regretful disclaimer. “I do not know the particulars, Miss Blackhouse. But Mr. Tremaine has urgently requested your