Lion in the Valley - Elizabeth Peters [11]
“He has a good working knowledge of zoology, Peabody. He is always picking up stray animals.”
“Physics, astronomy—”
Emerson snorted so vigorously that foam flew all over the mirror. He wiped it off with his arm. “What difference does it make whether the earth goes round the sun or vice versa? It is an inconsequential piece of information.”
“It seems to me, Emerson, that that sentiment has been expressed by someone else.”
“No doubt. It is the sentiment of any reasoning individual. Never mind about Ramses’ education, Peabody. He will do well enough.”
He fell silent as he drew the shining blade of his razor across his cheek. Though unconvinced, I refrained from further comment for fear of causing a serious accident. When he had completed the delicate operation, I felt it safe to refer to another grievance. “So we are to leave in the morning?”
“If that is agreeable to you, my dear.”
“It is not at all agreeable to me. There are several tasks I had meant to complete—”
Emerson whirled, brandishing the razor. “Such as interfering in the private affairs of that Miss Devonshire.”
“Debenham, Emerson. The lady’s name is Debenham. I had meant to speak a kindly word or two—the advice her mother would give her, were she still alive. I will simply have to find an opportunity tonight, that is all.”
“Curse it,” Emerson said.
“Do hurry, Emerson. Mena House will be crowded; the pyramids by moonlight are a popular excursion. No,” I went on, winding my braided hair into a neat knot. “The tasks I referred to were those of shopping. I feel sure you did not get all the articles I need.”
“Yes, I did. I even bought a load of those cursed medicines you are always inflicting on people. Ipecacuanha, rhubarb, calomel, blistering plaster—”
“You didn’t get a set of communion vessels, I suppose?”
“Communion . . . Peabody, I didn’t object when you set yourself up as a physician, but I will be forced to protest if you begin administering the sacraments. Not only does that offend my principles—for I consider such activities the grossest kind of superstition—but it is sure to get you in trouble with the authorities of the Church of England.”
“I presume you jest, Emerson. You know perfectly well why I want the vessels. They are to replace the ones the Master Criminal stole from the church at Dronkeh last year. The distress of the poor Sheikh El Beled touched my heart; we cannot restore the originals, so I thought I would get him another set. I don’t suppose you even looked for one.”
“Antique Coptic religious objects are not easily found, even in the bazaars of Cairo,” Emerson retorted. “It is all a ridiculous waste of time anyway. Why didn’t you just bring along a set of bathroom utensils from the Penny Bazaar?”
I ignored this churlish remark, being accustomed to Emerson’s unorthodox religious views. However, when he reached for his trousers I was moved to remonstrate. “Not those trousers, Emerson. I have laid out your evening clothes. A tweed suit is—”
“The only attire appropriate for climbing the Great Pyramid, Peabody. You wouldn’t want me to spoil my only set of evening clothes, would you?”
“Climb the pyramid? In the dark?”
“The moon is at the full, as you know. There will be adequate light, I assure you, and the view from the top of the Cheops Pyramid is an experience not to be missed. I had planned it as a treat for you, my dear, but if you prefer to deck yourself out in a regalia like the one that young woman wore today . . . On my word, she resembled nothing so much as a pouter pigeon, and I fully expected her to flap up into the air.”
Having recognized the logic of his argument, I prepared to assume one of my working costumes, a tasteful ensemble of purple tweed trousers and a lavender-and-white-checked jacket, with a matching parasol. I am seldom without a parasol. It is one of the most generally useful objects an individual can possess, and I knew I would be glad of its assistance in the capacity of a walking stick that evening, for the terrain surrounding the pyramids is quite uneven. However,