Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [17]
“I would prefer that no one go except Father and me. You needn’t protest, Mother, I am well aware you would never consent to be left behind. Neither would Nefret. But David, so far, knows nothing about this. He’d come, of course, without an instant’s hesitation, but he’s very much in love and newly engaged; and if Lia knew what he was walking into, she’d be beside herself. God knows our normal excavation seasons are wild enough, but at least we don’t go looking for trouble. Well…usually we don’t.”
“You needn’t go over the arguments,” I said with a sigh. “I have considered them myself—plus the fact that David could not contribute anything to the expedition except his stout heart and strong hands. Does he know about the Lost Oasis?”
“Not from me. Uncle Walter and Aunt Evelyn know.”
“That was unavoidable,” I said defensively. “Your uncle Walter is a philologist; once he heard Nefret speak in the language of the Holy Mountain he recognized its relationship to ancient Egyptian, and Evelyn’s suspicions were aroused by some of Nefret’s—er—unusual habits. It seemed safest to tell them the whole story and ask them to take an oath of secrecy, which to the best of my knowledge they have never broken. How do you propose to prevent David from coming out with us, as he has always done?”
“Did you know that Constable, the publisher, approached him in London about doing a series of paintings for a popular book about Egypt?”
“Really? He never mentioned it.”
“He didn’t mention it to me until just before he left for Yorkshire. He was afraid I’d urge him to accept, and abandon my own plans rather than leave Father without half his staff.”
“Emerson would not have taken that well,” I agreed. “Hmmm. I believe you have found the answer to this particular dilemma. It would be a wonderful opportunity for David, a chance to build a reputation of his own, without being dependent on us. But it would mean keeping our real purpose a secret.”
“We’ll have to do that in any case.” The kittens were rolling around on the floor in mock battle; one of them let out a squeak of protest and Ramses went to separate them. Holding the victim away from its rougher sibling, he went on, “When we returned in ’98, we agreed that the very existence of the place must remain unknown, but although our fiction passed muster with the general public, there were a few people who wondered whether we were telling the whole truth. People who remembered Willy Forth’s theory about a lost oasis in the Western Desert; people like your journalist friend O’Connell, who had learned from the officers at the military camp at Sanam Abu Dom about Forth’s nephew Reggie setting off in search of him. We should be all right if we can keep such people from making the connection between that last journey and our intention of heading again for the Sudan. The greatest danger is Merasen himself.”
He paused for breath, having spoken with unusual quickness and passion. Glancing at my list, I said approvingly, “I commend you, Ramses, on stating the facts almost as logically as I might have done.”
“Thank you, Mother. You had, of course, already considered all those points.”
I gave him a sharp look, but his face was quite grave—not even a little quiver at the corners of his mouth. “I had, yes. Those and others. I fear your father has not: he is inclined to ignore difficulties once he has set his mind on something. I will have a little chat with him. Will you speak to Nefret?”
Ramses went to the window, where he stood looking out. “Your opinion would carry more weight with her.”
“D’you think so?”
“Yes,” said Ramses, without turning. “She’s out there now, with Merasen. Practicing archery.”
They were on the lawn, with half the household watching. When I went onto the terrace the maids scattered in various directions, trying to look as if they had had business in that part of the house, but Gargery stood his ground.
“A proper sport for a young lady,” he announced. “If I may say