Lion in the Valley - Elizabeth Peters [63]
“He sounds a most unattractive person.”
“No,” Enid said. “Physically he is quite handsome; he has an engaging manner and can be the most amusing companion in the world.”
“But you don’t want me to tell him where you are—reassure him as to your safety?”
“Heavens, no. I am sure Ronald is concerned about me—in so far as he is capable of being concerned about anyone but himself. But I am equally certain he didn’t put himself out hurrying to Cairo. He has been in Egypt for some weeks, on—on business. . . . Which he abandoned in order to go hunting in the Sudan.”
An indefinable but unmistakable change in her voice and look made me suspect she was holding something back. As later events proved, I was correct, but I will frankly admit—since candor is a quality I prize, and since my errors in judgment are so infrequent as to be worthy of mention—that I was mistaken as to the cause of her reticence. Young ladies often abuse a gentleman in whom they have an intense personal interest. I assumed Miss Debenham was in love with her cousin and was ashamed to admit it because she considered him unworthy of her affection.
Delicacy, therefore, prevented me from pressing the subject, and Enid made it even more difficult for me to do so by reminding me that the men were waiting for my command to begin digging.
After several hours we halted for refreshment. Sitting before our tents, we applied ourselves to eggs and tea, and fresh bread from the village, with good appetite. Emerson’s humor had improved, thanks to the discovery of some blocks of cut stone which betokened the presence of some sort of structure.
Ramses, of course, had to express his evaluation. “In my opinion, Papa, we have found signs of two distinct building periods. Since the cult of Sneferu the Good was popular in Ptolemaic times, it is probable—”
“Ramses, your papa is perfectly well aware of that,” I said testily.
“I only wished to suggest that extreme care must be taken in order to discover—”
“Again, Ramses, let me remind you that there is no excavator in the field today whose skill equals that of your papa.”
“Thank you, my dear,” said Emerson, beaming. “Are you having a good time with your little pyramid?”
“Yes, thank you, Emerson.”
Before I could draw breath to continue, Ramses addressed Enid, requesting her opinion on what we had accomplished thus far. It might have been only a courteous attempt to draw her into the conversation. But I doubted that it was.
Enid distracted him by seizing the cat, who was sniffing around her ankles. I was surprised the aristocratic creature permitted the liberty. She was on good terms with me and had a certain tolerant affection for Emerson, but Ramses was the only person whose caresses she actively encouraged.
The distraction proved effective, for Ramses then asked about Enid’s pets—having deduced, as he explained at length, that she must have owned a cat or she would not know the precise spots to scratch. When Enid replied that she had several dogs and a dozen cats, most of whom had been abandoned by cruel owners, Ramses’ countenance took on quite a pleasant look of approval. As he sat cross-legged beside her, his curly head tipped to one side and his black eyes bright with interest, one might have taken him for a normal little boy—so long as he kept his mouth closed.
All at once, Emerson leaped to his feet, dropping his bread and butter (buttered side down, of course) onto the rug. He shielded his eyes with his hands and looked east, toward the rising sun. “Upon my word, Amelia, I believe it is a group of cursed tourists. And they are coming this way.”
“That is hardly surprising, Emerson,” I replied, trying to scrape the butter off the rug, which was a handsome old Bokhara. “You know that is one of the disadvantages