The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [164]
He was referring to Sir Edward, not the photographer. Emerson glared wildly round the room, as if expecting to see the young man lurking in the shadows.
“He has probably slept late,” I replied. “As he is entitled to do, especially on such a day as this. The inclement weather will keep most people away from the Valley today, I expect.”
“Hmmm.” Emerson fingered the cleft in his chin and looked thoughtful. “Including Maspero and Davis. Hothouse plants, both of them.”
“That is neither fair nor accurate, my dear.”
“Who gives a curse?” Emerson demanded. “Ramses, haven’t you finished?”
“Yes, sir.” Ramses rose obediently, stuffing the last of his toast into his mouth.
“I have not finished,” I declared, reaching for the marmalade.
“Hurry up, then, if you are coming.” Emerson eyed me speculatively. “Er—Peabody, why don’t you stay at home today? The weather is unpleasant, and I don’t need you. Nefret, you stay with her and make certain she is—er—kept busy.”
Gray skies over Luxor are so unusual as to amount to a portent. Perhaps it was the weather that affected my nerves. It could not have been Emerson’s crude attempt to distract me, for he does that sort of thing all the time. I flung the marmalade spoon down on the table, spattering the cloth with sticky bits.
“If you think I am going to allow you to go to the Valley and meddle with Mr. Davis’s tomb—”
“Meddle?” Emerson’s voice rose to a shout. “Peabody, I never—”
“Yes, you do! Aren’t you in enough trouble with—”
“I consider it my professional duty—”
“Your profession! It is the only thing that matters, isn’t it?”
As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them. The handsome flush of anger faded from Emerson’s face; the lips that had been parted in anticipation of rebuttal closed into a tight line. The children sat like graven images, not daring to speak.
“I am sorry, Emerson,” I said, bowing my head to avoid his reproachful look. “I don’t know what is wrong with me this morning.”
“Delayed reaction,” said Ramses.
I turned on him. “You have been reading my psychology books again!”
Unlike his father, he was more amused than hurt at my reproof. I deduced this from the slight narrowing of his eyes, since no other feature altered. “We all feel it, I suppose,” he said. “As Nefret remarked, the change in our fortunes happened so suddenly and unexpectedly, it was difficult to take it in. A reaction was inevitable.”
Emerson reached for my hand. “Amelia, if you doubt that I would see every damned tomb in Thebes flooded before—”
“I don’t doubt it, my dear.” I pressed his hand. “I said I was sorry. Run along and—and try not to do anything of which M. Maspero would disapprove.”
“Try,” Emerson repeated. “Yes, I can do that. No, but seriously, Peabody, I haven’t forgot about that unpleasant business yesterday. There are still a few loose ends to be tied up, and I have every intention of following through on them. I’m not quite sure how to go about it, though. There is even a question of jurisdiction. She was part Egyptian and part European, and how the devil are the authorities to make a positive identification?” He caught my eye, and his old smile curved his well-shaped lips. “No, Peabody, I did not know her that well.”
I felt I had apologized quite enough, so I said only, “Very well, my dear. Since I know I can trust your word, I will stay home today. There are a number of little chores to do and little notes to write. I must invite the Masperos to dinner one evening. Have you any preference?”
“I would prefer that they declined,” said Emerson, rising.
I rather hoped they would too, for Emerson was sure to get into another argument with the Director. The invitation had to be proffered, however.
Nefret obviously yearned to take part in whatever underhanded scheme Emerson was considering, so I persuaded Emerson to let her go with him. I had to give him my solemn word that I would not “go haring off to the morgue to inspect that grisly set of remains,” as he put it.
It was pleasant being by myself for a change. I busied myself with neglected