Lion in the Valley - Elizabeth Peters [77]
“My father had purchased a commission for me in—in a regiment of the line. . . . There is no need, I believe, to mention which one. After his death my brother nobly offered to take over the management of the estate so that I might pursue my military career. I had . . . I incurred debts. Allow me the favor of refusing to be specific about their nature; they were . . . They were not the sort one likes to mention, especially before . . .”
He gazed at Enid. I was as intrigued by the silent interchange between them as by his halting speech. She never looked at him, he never took his eyes off her; and the air between them fairly crackled with emotion. When his voice faltered, she started to her feet. Her cheeks were flaming.
“You lie!” she cried. “Despicably, stupidly—”
Emerson put one big brown hand on her shoulder and gently but inexorably returned her to her seat. “Be silent, Miss Debenham. You will have your chance at rebuttal. Sir—finish your story.”
“It is quickly told,” Donald muttered. “The regiment was gazetted to Egypt. Being in need of funds, I had forged a signature on a bill. My crime was discovered. The person I had attempted to defraud, a fellow officer, was generous. I was given the choice of resigning my commission and—and disappearing. I did so. That is all.”
He had come to the end, but so abruptly, that Emerson and I were both left staring. Assuming my husband’s prohibition ceased to have effect at that time, I exclaimed, “Upon my word, Mr. Fraser, that is a rather curt narrative. I think, though, that I can fill in some of the details you have omitted. Your brother is in Egypt—”
“I know. I saw him yesterday.”
“I presume he came to find you and extend a brother’s hand in forgiveness and affection.”
Nemo’s drooping head sank lower. From Enid, squirming under Emerson’s hand, came a scornful laugh. I turned to her. “And you, Miss Debenham, also came here on an errand of mercy and redemption, to save your old playfellow?”
“I came to tell him what I thought of him,” the girl cried. She twisted away from Emerson’s grasp and jumped to her feet. “He is a stupid fool who deserves everything that has happened to him!”
“No doubt,” said Emerson, studying her with interest. “But if you will forgive me, Miss Debenham, I am determined to push doggedly onward—against the opposition of everyone present—to some understanding of the facts themselves. Is that how you became involved with Kalenischeff? For I do you the credit to assume you would have better taste than to take up with such a villain for his own sake.”
“You are quite right,” Enid said. “I had not been in Cairo two days before Kalenischeff approached me. He offered his assistance—for a price, of course—in finding Donald, who, Kalenischeff assured me, had slunk off like a whipped cur and hidden himself in Cairo’s foul underworld.”
Donald winced and covered his face with his hand. Enid went on remorselessly, “Alone I had no hope of entering that disgusting ambiance or approaching its denizens. Kalenischeff persuaded me that we should pretend to be—to be interested in one another in order to conceal my true purpose and lull Donald and his criminal associates—”
“That was rather credulous of you,” Emerson said critically. “But never mind. I take it you did not, in fact, murder the rascal in a fit of pique or in defense of your virtue? No, no, don’t lose your temper; a simple shake of the head will suffice. I never believed a woman could strike such a blow, penetrating the muscles of the chest and entering the heart—”
“Emerson, how can you!” I cried indignantly. “You told me—”
“You misunderstood,” said Emerson, with such sublime indifference to truth that I was struck dumb with indignation. He compounded the insult by continuing, “Well, well, we are in a confused situation here,