Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [91]
“You will stay with us for a few days,” I said to Katherine. “Fatima has your rooms ready and everyone is anxious to be of use. Now, my dear, don’t argue, I have it all worked out. Ramses and Nefret are in Luxor just now, so there is plenty of room.”
At that, Bertie sat up a little straighter and spoke with the first indication of interest I had seen him display. “Ramses isn’t here? I had looked forward to talking with him.”
“You will be able to do that very soon,” I assured him. “The most important thing now is for you to rest and get your strength back.”
He nodded and closed his eyes. His face looked like a death’s head, gray skin stretched tightly over the bones.
I took Katherine’s hand and gave it a little squeeze. That was all I could do then. She could not talk freely in his presence.
As soon as we reached the house I sent Katherine and Cyrus to their room and put Bertie to bed, ignoring his feeble protests. By the time I finished with him there was some color in his face—primarily embarrassment and wounded masculine pride. I considered this a hopeful sign; he had enough energy, at least, to resent me! I made him drink a quantity of water and pointed out the little bouquet, an indiscriminate mixture of marigolds and weeds, that Sennia had arranged in a glass on his table. That brought a faint smile, and before I left the room I had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes close.
Katherine and Cyrus were in the drawing room with Emerson. “How is he?” Katherine asked at once.
“Sleeping.” I took a chair and accepted a glass of whiskey from Emerson. “The wounds appear to have healed nicely and although his breathing is still short, I believe it is a matter of weakness and lack of exercise rather than permanent injury to his lungs. However, if you feel we ought to have a doctor look at him . . .”
“He wouldn’t accept that,” Katherine said wearily. “He is bitterly resentful of the entire medical profession. I cannot imagine how you managed to examine him.”
“Ah, well, I have had a good deal of practice overcoming the objections of injured and recalcitrant male individuals,” I said, glancing at Emerson. “Which reminds me . . . why is he so anxious to talk with Ramses? They got on well enough, but were never close friends.”
“Can’t you guess?” Cyrus demanded. His long countenance had been lined and weather-beaten ever since I had known him, for seasons under the hot Egyptian sun has that effect on fair-skinned people. Some of the lines were deeper now. Bertie was the only son he would ever have, and he had always been proud of the boy, his only regret being that Bertie did not share his passion for Egyptology. “He heard a lot from Anna last year about Ramses’s objections to the war,” Cyrus continued. “He has a new sympathy for that point of view.”
“Yes, of course. Well, we will build up his strength and improve his spirits.”
“If anybody can do that, it’s you,” Cyrus said, smiling at me.
“Quite right,” said Emerson. “She never lets up until you do what she wants.”
Katherine laughed. It was almost her old laugh, and her drawn face had brightened. “I feel happier and more optimistic already. It is his mental state that worries me most, Amelia. He won’t talk to me about his experiences at the front, and he hasn’t said much even to Cyrus. He is bitter and angry, and he has no interest in anything. In living, even, I think.”
Her voice broke. His handsome face concerned, Emerson immediately poured her a whiskey and soda. Knowing that sympathy would cause her to break down completely, I said briskly, “We will find an interest for him. I have several ideas. On the whole, I believe it would be advisable for you to go on to Luxor as soon as possible. The Valley of the Kings is, of course, ready for you, but in my opinion the long, lazy voyage would be inadvisable. He needs to be stirred up mentally. He indicated some wish to talk with Ramses. That would be good for him, I think. Nefret is a qualified physician and can watch over his physical health.