He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [129]
“You, of course. You have been in here for almost an hour. And,” Emerson added, studying my toes, “you are as wrinkled as a raisin. What were you brooding about?”
“I was enjoying the cool water and lost track of the time. Would you care to help me out?”
I knew he would, and hoped that the ensuing distraction might prevent him from asking further questions. I was correct.
It was rather late by the time we were dressed and ready to go down. I assumed the others had already done so, but I stopped at Ramses’s door to listen. The door opened so suddenly, I was caught with my head tilted and my ear toward the opening.
“Eavesdropping, Mother?” Ramses inquired.
“It is a shameful habit, but cursed useful,” I said, quoting something he had once said, and was rewarded by one of his rare and rather engaging smiles. “Are you ready to go down to dinner?”
Ramses nodded. “I was waiting for you. I wanted to have a word with you.”
“And I with you,” said Emerson. “You had no opportunity to write a note. What did you tell David?”
“To meet me later this evening. We need to discuss this latest development.”
“Bring him here,” I urged. “I yearn to see him.”
“Not a good idea,” Emerson said.
“No.” Ramses gestured for us to proceed. “There is a coffee shop in Giza Village where I go from time to time. They are accustomed to see me and would not be surprised if I got into conversation with a stranger.”
The scheme was certainly the lesser of several evils. Meditating on possible methods of lessening the danger still more, I led the way to the drawing room.
Nefret had been writing letters. “How slow you all are tonight!” she exclaimed, putting down her pen. “Fatima has been in twice to say dinner is ready.”
“We had better go straight in, then,” I said. “Mahmud always burns the food when we are late.”
We got to the table just in time to save the soup. I thought I detected a slight undertaste of scorching, but none of the others appeared to notice.
“Good to have a quiet evening,” Emerson declared. “You aren’t going to the hospital, Nefret?”
“I rang Sophia earlier, and she said I am not needed at present.” Nefret had changed, but not into evening attire; her frock was an old one, of blue muslin sprigged with green and white flowers. It might have been for sentimental reasons that she had kept it; Emerson had once commented on how pretty she looked in it.
“I planned to develop some of the plates this evening,” she went on. “I’ve got rather behind. Will you give me a hand, Ramses?”
“I am going out,” Ramses replied rather brusquely.
“For the entire evening?” She raised candid blue eyes, eyes the same shade as her gown.
The innocent question had an odd effect on Ramses. I knew that enigmatic countenance well enough to observe the scarcely perceptible hardening of his mouth. “Just to the village for a bit. I want to hear what the locals have to say about the statue.”
“Do you think they are planning to steal it?” Nefret asked, laughing.
“I am sure some of them would like to,” Ramses replied. “I won’t be late. If you would like to wait a few hours I will be happy to assist.”
I offered my services instead and Nefret accepted them. It was an odd conversation altogether; we talked, as we usually did, of our work and our future plans, but I could see that even Emerson had to force himself to take an interest. Not so odd, perhaps, considering that three of the four of us were concealing something from the fourth.
After dinner we went to the parlor for coffee. Several letters had been delivered while we were out; despite the general reliability of the post, many of our acquaintances clung to the old habit of sending messages by hand. There was one for me from Katherine Vandergelt, which I read with a renewed sense of guilt.
“We have seen so little of the Vandergelts,” I said. “Katherine writes to remind us of our promise to visit them at Abusir.”
Emerson started as if he had been stung. “Damnation!”
“What is it, Emerson?” I cried in alarm. “Something in that letter?”
“No. Er—yes.” Emerson crumpled the missive and shoved it in his pocket.