Lion in the Valley - Elizabeth Peters [96]
Donald slammed his cup into his saucer with such force that it cracked. “I resign my position, Mrs. Emerson. I have faced armed foes and fierce savages, but Ramses has defeated me.”
“Ramses? You mean Enid, don’t you? Have more bread and butter, Donald.”
“I don’t want any cursed . . . Forgive me, Mrs. E. I only want to be left alone.”
“Alone with your pipe and your opium?” said Emerson. “Give it up, my boy. You won’t elude Mrs. Emerson; she has made up her mind to reform you, and reform you she will, whether you like it or not. Excuse me; I believe I will go in and work on my notes.”
“Emerson is so tactful,” I said, as my husband’s stalwart form vanished into the house. “He knows I wanted a confidential chat with you, Ronald—I beg your pardon, Donald. No, don’t go, for if you do, I will have Abdullah bring you back and sit on you until I am finished. Goodness, the stubbornness of the male sex! Enid has told me everything, Donald.”
The young man sank back into his chair. “Everything?”
“Well, almost everything. She did not say in so many words that she loves you, but it was not difficult for me to see it. I am constantly astonished—”
Donald leaped to his feet. “Loves me?”
“—at the inability of men to see what is right under their noses. And you love her—”
“Love her? Love her!”
“You sound like a parrot. Do sit down and stop shouting, or you will have everyone coming round to see what is wrong.”
Slowly Donald subsided into his chair, like a man whose limbs will no longer support him. His eyes, wide as saucers, and blue as the best Egyptian turquoise, were fixed on my face.
I continued, “Why else would she pursue you and attempt to persuade you to defend yourself? Why would she submit to the disgusting attentions of a man like Kalenischeff, if not to aid you? Why is she so furious with you? Mark my words, a woman does not go to such lengths for the sake of old friendship. She loves you! But she despises you too, and with reason. You do your brother no favor to take his punishment on yourself, and if you are foolish enough to submit to shame and disgrace for the sake of some absurd notion of gallantry, you have no right to make those who love you suffer. Proclaim your innocence and your brother’s guilt; take the position that is rightly yours, and claim your bride!”
“I can’t believe you,” Donald muttered. “She despises me. She—”
“Well, of course she does. That has nothing to do with her loving you. Now listen to me, Donald. You cannot desert us. I am unable to explain this to Emerson, for he is becoming so unreasonable about the Master Criminal that the mere mention of the name starts him shouting, but you, I dare hope, will understand. Enid is in grave danger, not from the police, but from that mysterious genius of crime. He meant her to be charged and convicted for the murder of Kalenischeff. Why else would he have selected her room as the scene of slaughter?”
“Possibly,” Donald suggested, “because Kalenischeff was on his guard at all other times and was only vulnerable to attack when he believed he had been summoned to a romantic rendezvous.”
“My question was rhetorical,” I said sharply. “Take my word for it; Enid is not safe. Who knows, she may have seen or heard something on that terrible night that would endanger Sethos, could she but recall it. Let her abuse you and insult you, but do not abandon her when she needs you. And, while I am on the subject of insults and abuses, let me inform you that your abject acceptance of Enid’s contumely is not going to improve her opinion of you. I would be happy to give you one or two suggestions—”
Again Donald started up, so impetuously that his chair toppled over. “I beg you, Mrs. Emerson—spare me. Your arguments have won me over; I will never desert Miss Debenham so long as she is in need of protection. But I cannot—I cannot endure—oh, God!”
Whereupon he rushed into the house.
•
Ten
•
Abdullah had neglected to close the gates. I sat in rare and pleasurable solitude, listening to the distant voices of Ramses and