Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [13]
“Porridge is good for you,” I said firmly. “I don’t want to hear of you refusing your healthy breakfast again, or talking back to Basima.”
“I did not talk back. I would never be rude to Basima. I only pointed out—”
“Enough,” I exclaimed, as Basima nodded and beamed fatuously at her charge. She and the other servants, including Gargery, would have let Sennia skin them alive if she had indicated an interest in doing so.
We finished the lesson without further interruption; but when it was over, Sennia had another complaint. “I find little Ben and little Polly very boring, Aunt Amelia. Can’t we read a more interesting book?”
“You find too many things boring,” I said (though secretly I was just as bored with little Ben and little Polly, to say nothing of the dog). “Sometimes it is necessary to suffer boredom in order to be educated and learn manners.”
Sennia, who had heard this before and was not at all impressed with my argument, shifted ground. “It is time for my hieroglyph lesson. Where is Ramses?”
“In hiding” was the correct answer, which I did not give. He wouldn’t appear until the storm had passed. The sooner I got it over, the better.
“Come here and sit by me,” I said. “We must have a serious conversation.”
A quarter of an hour later I left the room, feeling like a villain and a murderer. Sennia lay flat on the rug next to the cat, her face buried in her arms and her body shaking with sobs. Horus alternated between licking her hair and snarling at me. I was in no greater favor with Basima; she had not dared intervene, but the looks she shot me expressed her feelings quite well.
Emerson was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. “How did it go?”
“I am surprised you need ask. Everyone in the house must have heard her initial reaction.”
Emerson passed his sleeve across his wet forehead. The house was not especially warm; it was sheer nerves that made him perspire. “But it has been quiet for some minutes,” he said anxiously. “You convinced her?”
“I informed her of our decision,” I corrected. “You cannot suppose I would allow a child to overrule me.”
In late October we sailed from Southampton. Horus shared the cabin of Basima and Sennia.
• • •
Two
• • •
The voyage was without incident of a military nature, but it provided one surprise. Gargery did not make his appearance until we were two days out of Southampton. He chose his moment well, waiting until after Emerson had had several cups of coffee and we were taking our morning promenade on deck. No doubt he hoped the presence of several dozen witnesses would force my husband to control himself. In this he was not correct. Emerson came to a dead halt when he saw the familiar form advancing toward him. Gargery drew himself up to his full height of five and a half feet, snapped off a salute, and got out three words—“Reporting for duty”—before Emerson seized him by the collar and began shaking him.
It was the sight of Sennia’s scandalized face that stopped Emerson after only a few bad words. “Confound it!” he exclaimed, winding down. “What do you mean by this, you rascal? How dare you disobey me?”
“People are staring, Emerson,” I pointed out.
“Don’t hurt him!” Sennia cried, throwing her arms round Gargery.
Between Emerson’s grip on his collar and Sennia’s passionate grasp of his diaphragm, Gargery had not breath enough to speak; I could not help noticing that he looked very pleased with himself, however.
Ramses and Nefret had been following at a discreet distance. Now they joined us.
“Perhaps,” said Ramses, “we ought to continue this—er—discussion in private, Father.”
Emerson’s grip relaxed and Gargery, who had been standing on his toes, staggered and caught himself.
“Haven’t got my sea legs quite yet, sir,” he remarked. “Soon will.