Lion in the Valley - Elizabeth Peters [136]
I felt certain the shutters covered a window that opened onto the open air. From that shutter now dangled a bright pink strip of flannel with a lapis scarab at its end. If, as I hoped, the window gave onto a public thoroughfare, someone was certain to notice my marker eventually.
I ripped the rest of the flannel into strips and knotted the ends together. Not even Sethos would notice that one strip was missing, and he could amuse himself by speculating on what I had meant to do with the cloth.
Once stripped down to my combinations—a one-piece, knee-length cotton garment trimmed with lace and little pink bows—I picked up the filmy objects Sethos had supplied. They were not quite so indecent as I had thought; the bodice was low-cut and sleeveless, but not translucent, for the fabric was covered with heavy embroidery and beadwork. But the trousers! There was enough fabric in them to have covered the tall windows in my drawing room at home, but they concealed very little. I put them on over my combinations.
“Let down thy hair, oh my beloved. . . .” It was halfway down already. My hair is heavy and coarse, and the rough handling I had received had not improved the neatness of my coiffure. I had no intention of appearing to respond to Sethos’ impertinent request, particularly since I meant to retain my hairpins if I could. One never knows when a hairpin may come in handy. However, it was not easy to rearrange my tresses without the help of a comb or brush and I was still struggling with them when there was a rap on the door.
“Oh, curse it,” I said, quite as Emerson might have done.
The door opened and Sethos put his head through the curtain. He stepped aside; the bald-pated giant entered with another tray, this one loaded with plates and dishes.
Sethos looked me over and then remarked coolly, “I hope you don’t mind my saying, Mrs. Emerson, that the effect is not quite what I had expected. Never mind, it is a start. That unusual garment you are wearing is sufficiently form-fitting to assure me you are not concealing a pistol or a stiletto.”
Having arranged the dishes on the table, the giant retired. Scarcely had he vanished behind the curtain before a series of thuds and knocks broke out. “Don’t get your hopes up,” said Sethos with a smile. “It is not a rescue party you hear, but my servant engaging in a bit of carpentry. I ordered a bar to be placed on this side of the door, as a token of my respectful intentions and my high esteem. Aren’t you going to thank me?”
“What, thank my jailor for refraining from assaulting me?”
Sethos laughed and shook his head. “You are incomparable, my dear—Mrs. Emerson. Please sit down and let us dine.”
He lifted a silver cover. The delicious aroma of chicken and spices reminded me that I was extremely hungry, my luncheon having been rudely interrupted. I would require all my strength in the hours to come; so I sat down on a cushion and helped myself. I refused wine, however.
“Don’t worry,” said Sethos, with one of his peculiar smiles. “I do not intend to weaken your resistance by rendering you intoxicated. It may take weeks, even months, but eventually you will learn to love me for myself.”
“Months! You can’t keep me shut up in one room so long. I need exercise, fresh air—”
“Never fear. This is only a temporary stopover. Tomorrow we leave for one of my country estates. I have prepared it especially for you and I know you will appreciate it. There are gardens filled with shade trees and exotic blooms, winding paths and crystal fountains, where you will be free to wander as you will.”
This was a piece of news, and no mistake! I should have expected it, but it cast a decided shadow over my hope of escape. I knew Emerson would find me sooner or later if I remained in Cairo; but even Emerson