The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [16]
“I would have joined her had I been in London,” said Evelyn. “Come now, Emerson, she could not possibly have anticipated that that—person—would be involved.”
“We must give her that,” Walter agreed, with an affectionate smile at me.
“It must have been frightfully exciting,” said little Amelia (whom I must remember to call Lia).
She was so like her mother! Her smooth skin and soft blue eyes and fair hair recalled happy memories of the young girl I had found fainting in the Forum that day in Rome so long ago. But this young face, thank Heaven, was blooming with health, and the graceful little form was sturdy and straight.
Nefret gave her a warning look. “Don’t get your hopes up, dear. Sethos made it clear that the encounter was accidental and that he would have avoided it had he been able. It will be a dull season, I assure you, with no exciting adventures.”
“Quite right,” said David.
“Absolutely,” said Ramses.
“A very dull season,” I agreed. “If Emerson means to go on with his boring work in the Valley. I wonder that you have put up with it so long, Emerson. It is insulting to us—us, the finest excavators in the profession—allowed only to clear tombs other archaeologists have abandoned as unworthy of interest. We might as well be housemaids, cleaning up after our betters.”
Emerson interrupted me with a vehement remark, and Walter, always the peacemaker, interrupted Emerson, asking him how much longer it would be before we departed. I leaned back in my chair and listened with a satisfied smile. I had turned the conversation away from the dangerous subject. Evelyn and Walter would never allow their beloved child to accompany us if they believed there was danger ahead. Nor, of course, would I.
It was on the following morning that I received another communication from Mrs. Pankhurst, inviting me to an emergency meeting of the committee that afternoon.
Nefret had taken Lia to the hospital with her, and the boys had gone to the British Museum with Walter. Emerson had announced at breakfast that he meant to work on his book and must not be interrupted. I had looked forward to a long quiet day with Evelyn, who is my dearest friend as well as my sister-in-law, but after brief consideration I decided I must attend the meeting. Although Mrs. Pankhurst made no reference to her earlier note, I took the present invitation to be in the nature of an olive branch. It was quite a businesslike epistle, brief and to the point.
Evelyn, as ardent a suffragist as I, agreed I ought to turn the other cheek for the good of the cause, but I felt I must decline her suggestion that she accompany me.
“This is a business meeting, you see, and it would not be proper to bring a stranger, especially in view of the fact that I am not a member of the committee. Perhaps they mean to propose me this afternoon. Yes, that seems quite likely.”
Evelyn nodded agreement. “Will you tell Emerson of your plans, or shall I, when he emerges from his lair?”
“He is rather like a bear when he is disturbed,” I agreed with a laugh. “But I suppose I had better do so. He doesn’t like me to go off without informing him.”
Emerson bent over his desk, attacking the page with vehement strokes of his pen. I cleared my throat. He started, dropped the pen, swore, and stared at me.
“What do you want?”
“I am going out for a while, Emerson. I felt obliged to mention it to you.”
“Oh,” said Emerson. He flexed his cramped hands. “Where are you going?”
I explained. Emerson’s eyes brightened.
“I will drive you in the motorcar.”
“No, you will not!”
“But, Peabody—”
“You have work to do, my dear. Besides, you were not invited. This is a business meeting. I must do a few errands first, and you know how you hate going to the shops with me.”
“One excuse is sufficient,” said Emerson mildly. He leaned back in his chair and studied me. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Peabody?”
“I will show you the letter from Mrs. Pankhurst