Children of the Storm - Elizabeth Peters [73]
Sennia was not to be put off. “What is she to Ramses?”
“Time for bed, Sennia,” I said, giving it up.
“You are going to talk about things you don’t want me to hear.” Miss Sennia rose with great dignity, arranging her skirts. “I understand. Good night, everyone. But I still don’t like her.”
“It is somewhat overwhelming,” Evelyn said, shaking her head. “Emerson told us of her background, Amelia, while you were with her. Did she explain what has brought her to this pass?”
“Briefly.” I sipped my whiskey. “Her husband died suddenly—he was not a young man—and left her with nothing. He had speculated unwisely, it seems. She had to sell her engagement ring to bury him.”
“From the description we got of the diamond, it must have been an extravagant funeral,” Nefret murmured.
“Be that as it may, Nefret, she had to seek a situation. Lady’s companion was the only occupation for which she was fitted, and she soon discovered that her youthful appearance was against her. Hence the gray hairs and the artificially aged countenance. She had, I expect, learned something of the art of disguise from her father. Still, she was unable to find work until she answered an advertisement from a lady who wanted someone familiar with Egypt, where she intended to spend the winter. No doubt,” I added, “Mrs. Fitzroyce’s age and poor eyesight made it easier for Maryam to carry out her masquerade.”
“All this is very interesting,” Ramses said in a tone that implied he did not find it so. “What I want to know is why she was attacked today. I thought when I heard her scream that some nervous female tourist was being harassed by an importunate beggar, but the fellow was actually slashing at her with his knife. That sort of thing is unheard of.”
“I asked her that, of course,” I replied.
“What did she say?”
“That she had no idea why anyone would want to injure her. There must be a reason, though,” I declared. “Not a good reason—there is never an excuse for violence—but something she has done, or is believed to have done, that inspired a desire for revenge.”
“What nonsense!” Emerson burst out. “That is just your melodramatic imagination, Peabody, always constructing mysteries. What could she have done, a child like that?”
“And that is just your masculine naïveté, Emerson, always assuming that youth and a pretty face guarantee innocence. Oh, I grant you that irrational persons may react violently to relatively harmless offenses, but mark my words, there is something behind all this, and for her own sake we must discover what it is. I allowed her to go today because I could hardly detain her by force, but I hope eventually to persuade her to come to us.”
“Here?” Nefret exclaimed.
“At least until her father can take charge of her. He said he would see us soon, but I will send a message anyhow. She still harbors a grudge against him, but I believe I can set her straight on that. Emerson, were you about to speak?”
“No,” said Emerson.
“You were rolling your eyes and moving your lips.”
“I may be allowed, I hope, to alter my expression without asking your permission.”
“Hmmm. As I was about to say, she will be more receptive to his explanations now. There is nothing so destructive to pride as poverty. It is our moral obligation to bring about the reconciliation of father and child, and assist a member of our family who is in need.”
“Curse it,” said Emerson hotly. “When you start quoting pious axioms there is no use trying to change your mind.”
“What objection do you have to her being here?”
“None. None, damn—er—confound it. I feel sorry for the girl, but—”
“A premonition!” I exclaimed. “Are you having a premonition?”
“I never have premonitions! They are pure superstition. You are the only one who—”
“There is one thing that worries me,” Nefret said, cutting Emerson off on the brink of an explosion. “Justin. If she is here, he will come again. You saw how he was with the children.”
“He was charming,” Lia said. “And they obviously like him.”
“Oh, he’s charming,” Nefret said. “And