He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [44]
“Challenge him, you mean? How absurd.”
“Not to the Count. He is quite a gallant, in the European style. Kisses hands, clicks heels.”
“You know him?”
“Slightly. Oh, well, I daresay nothing will come of it. There is another reason why the Major might not care to improve his acquaintance with us. What responsible guardian would allow a young girl to associate with a man who is not only a pacifist and a coward, but a notorious seducer of women?”
“Nefret!”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Amelia! But that’s what they say about him, you know. They know the stories are all lies, and yet they continue to repeat them, and there’s not a damned thing we can do about it!”
“They will be forgotten eventually,” I said, wishing I could believe it.
The angry color faded from her cheeks, and she smiled and shook her head. “He does bring it on himself, in a way. One can hardly blame the child for being swept off her feet.”
“Literally as well as figuratively, I believe,” I said. “My dear Nefret, he didn’t bring this on himself; once appealed to, he had to rescue the child.”
“It’s not what he does, it’s the way he does it!”
I couldn’t help laughing. “I know what you mean. Well, my dear, he won’t do it again—at least not to Miss Hamilton. The Major’s letter, though discourteous, relieves me of a responsibility I am happy to avoid. Emerson will be disappointed, though.”
When Emerson turned up he was accompanied by Cyrus and Katherine Vandergelt, who were to dine and attend the opera with us that evening. I deduced that they had come in their car, since both wore appropriate motoring costumes. Cyrus was something of a dandy; his dust coat was of fine white linen and his cap had attached goggles, now pushed up out of the way. Katherine began the task of unwinding the veils in which she was swathed, and after greeting me affectionately, Cyrus explained, “We stopped at Giza to collect Emerson.”
“And a good thing, too, or he would still be there,” I said. “Where is Anna? You didn’t leave her at home alone, I hope. She has, I believe, a tendency to brood. That is unhealthy. Perhaps she should spend more time with us. We will keep her busy and cheerful.”
“You are an incurable busybody, Amelia,” said my husband, settling himself comfortably in a chair and picking up the little pile of messages. “What makes you suppose Katherine needs your advice on how to manage her daughter?”
“Amelia’s advice is always welcome,” Katherine said with an affectionate smile. She looked as if she could use a little cheering up too. Her plump cheeks were thinner and there was more gray in her hair now than there had been only a year earlier.
“We left Anna with Ramses,” she went on. “He hadn’t quite finished, and she decided to stay and keep him company.”
“We will not wait tea for them, then,” I declared. “Emerson, will you call down to Fatima and tell her we are ready?”
There was no response from Emerson, who had tossed most of the letters onto the floor, in his impetuous fashion, and was staring fixedly at one of them. I had to repeat his name rather loudly before he looked up.
“What are you shouting at me for?” he asked.
“Never mind, Professor, I’ll tell her,” Nefret said, rising.
“Tell who what?” Emerson demanded.
“Both questions are now irrelevant,” I said. “Really, Emerson, it is very rude of you to read the post when we have guests present. What is that letter that absorbs you so?”
Silently Emerson handed it to me.
“Oh, the note from Major Hamilton,” I said. “You are not going to lose your temper over it, I hope.”
“I am in no danger of losing my temper,” my husband retorted, transferring his piercing stare to me. “Can you think of any reason why I should?”
“Well, my dear, it is a rather brusque communication, and I know you were looking forward to seeing—”
“Bah,” said Emerson. “I don’t want to discuss it, Peabody. Where is—ah, there you are, Fatima. Good. I want my tea.”
Fatima and her young assistant were arranging the