Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [22]
“All right, Peabody, all right. Have another whiskey and don’t quote Gilbert and Sullivan at me.”
By the time David arrived the following afternoon, we had put together a convincing fiction, though it did not really cover all the contingencies and I had an uneasy feeling (I would have called it a premonition if Emerson did not object to my using that word) that we had not anticipated everything.
At first David could talk of nothing but Lia—her grace, her sweetness, her beauty, the interminable years that must pass before he could call her his. She was not yet eighteen, and, as he admitted, he was in no position to support a wife. Not until after dinner, when we retired to the sitting room for coffee, did he ask about our strange visitor, concerning whom he had heard from Gargery.
“Yes, a most interesting young fellow,” Emerson said, fussing with his pipe. “His grandfather is an old acquaintance of mine—sheikh of a village in the Sudan, who sent the boy to England to—er—broaden him, and, incidentally, to tell me about some interesting ruins west of Meroe that have never been investigated. I have therefore decided to spend the autumn in a survey of Upper Nubian archaeological sites. I won’t be needing you, David, so you may as well accept that offer from Constable.”
David looked bewildered, as well he might. Emerson’s open, candid nature is not suited to deception. Instead of working up to his conclusion with a wealth of confirmatory detail, he had simply thrown it at David.
“But, sir,” he stammered. “That is…how did you…I don’t understand.”
“It’s very simple,” said Emerson, to whom it was; when he makes a decision, he expects everyone will accept it. “I don’t need you, Constable does.”
David turned in silent appeal to Ramses, who said easily, “I told Father about the offer from Constable, David. He agreed that it was an opportunity you shouldn’t miss.”
“But your plans—” David began.
“Have nothing to do with yours,” Ramses cut in. “Father means to leave almost at once, and we will finish the most important part of the survey within a few months. I’ll go to Germany in January.”
Nefret took David’s hand and squeezed it. “Lia will be so happy. She was in tears when she spoke of your leaving.”
“She was?” The idea of Lia in tears brought moisture to David’s soft brown eyes.
“Oh, she’d have sent you off with a brave smile, but,” said Nefret, “her heart would be breaking.”
I thought she was carrying the pathos a little too far, so I said briskly, “So that is settled. Why don’t you ask Gargery to see if he can place a telephone call to Yorkshire, so you can tell Lia the good news?”
“I had better find out whether Constable are still interested,” David said slowly.
“They are,” I said. David turned to stare at me. Having put my foot in my mouth, I attempted to extract it. “I took the liberty of ringing them up yesterday,” I explained. “Mr. Constable was delighted. I—er—wanted to be certain the position was still open before I—we—discussed it with you.”
“I see,” David said.
“I hope you don’t mind, dear.”
“Not at all, Aunt Amelia. It was good of you.” His eyes moved from me to Ramses. “Come up for a talk?”
I saw Ramses brace himself. He hated to lie to his friend, but I knew he would do it if he had to. And he would have to. David was still hesitating, and no wonder. The story we had concocted was the best we could come up with, but trained copyists would be at a premium on such an expedition and here we were proposing to do without one of the best.
“Do you think we convinced him?” Nefret asked, after the two boys had left the room together.
“Convince be damned,” said Emerson. “He will do as he is told. What the devil, one would suppose a young lover would leap at the chance to be with his betrothed, eh, Peabody?”
“What a romantic you are, Emerson.”
Whatever Ramses’s arguments, they achieved the desired end. David demurred no longer. He went up to London to confer with the publisher and returned bursting with excitement about his