"Well, I'm not sure what the president would have to say about your sharp tongue," Gregory grumbled.
"Who knows?" Sibyl responded. "Perhaps he's a fan of my books."
"Ha! No one in the corridors of power is reading your trifles, miss," Gregory responded.
"Where are you going, Sibyl?" Ethan demanded.
"London."
"London!" they both cried at once, their mutual outrage having pierced the veil of their hangovers.
Her brothers began to bellow and cry about responsibilities that weren't actually hers, which neither was capable of attending to on his own. She had expected just this sort of response. But she always knew that Ethan and Gregory were just lazy enough that if she presented her imminent journey as a fait accompli, they might not protest it with all they had.
"For how long?" Gregory finally asked when he saw she remained unmoved by all their previous allegations and complaints.
"For as long as it takes," she answered.
"For as long as what takes? Why must you be cryptic as well? There's talk of war, you know. They've already had one in the Balkans and at the rate they're all going Germany and Austria will make some sort of trouble soon."
"Serves them right," Ethan grumbled. "Jamming all those countries onto that tiny continent like horses in a barn. What'd they think would happen?"
"And you can't go off traveling alone, all by yourself, I won't permit it!" said Gregory. "No, I say no. Besides, you've been to Europe five times with Mama. You've seen everything in Europe."
"It's time I went off on my own," said Sibyl. "What have I been waiting for, after all?" But the dream came back to her, and the article in the paper, the face of that man.
"By the time I've returned, Ethan," she said, "I'm sure you will have assumed an important role in world affairs, and you can share that great insight with our president."
"We need you here," said Gregory. "The staff needs you."
"What you mean is you'll have to manage them on your own," she replied.
She was almost to the front door when Ethan called after her, "Fitting you'd make your escape just before the week started!"
"It's Monday, gentlemen," she called back. "The week started hours ago!"
She slammed the front door behind her just as she heard the tinkle of overturned glassware and chair legs scraping the dining room's hardwood floor.
Old Philip was waiting for her in the driveway and so was Lucy. All the bags had been loaded into the Rolls-Royce, and now Lucy and Old Philip were both smiling at her, as if they were proud of the speed with which she'd managed to escape from the house that morning.
This was new, this authoritative voice she had discovered within herself, this assertiveness as well. When she unleashed it fully, this sense of power made her feel twice her size. In the past, she would have snuck out without saying anything to her brothers at all, and then, on the ride to the train station, she would have worried ceaselessly about their reactions to her sudden absence, and whether or not she was shirking the promise she'd made to her late parents to care for her brothers even amidst their terrible self-indulgences.
But now, she felt like a different Sibyl Parker altogether, one capable of crossing the globe on her own and flattening anyone who dared step in her way.
5
Paris
Samir Ibrahim dashed across the Place de la Concorde towards the most famous restaurant in the world. In one hand he clutched the telegram that had terrified him to the bone.
He had to find Julie and Ramses at once.
As politely as he could, he pushed his way through Maxim's front bar, past the men in their tuxedos and the women in their flowing, lustrous gowns. All the while, the hypnotic strands of the "Morning Papers" waltz guided him through the din of boisterous conversation and into the restaurant's main dining room.
He spotted them immediately.
The floor was full of other impeccably dressed couples performing the Viennese waltz, but he was sure most of the attention in the room was on Julie Stratford and her handsome Egyptian dancing partner.
For the briefest of moments, Samir forgot his dark mission as he watched the only child of his dear, departed friend Lawrence, the man with whom he had traveled the world, unearthing tombs and relics, spin across the crowded dance floor in the confident grip of a former pharaoh. There had been a time, just after they'd traveled to Egypt in the wake of her father's death, when it had seemed as if Julie's grief for her father might overtake her. But now it was clear her spirit had been beautifully restored. Indeed, she danced with such confidence and beauty, tears came to Samir's eyes.