The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [71]
“No,” Nefret said. “No decent man would.” She must have seen them exchange glances, for she went on in a voice shaking with indignation. “Oh, yes, I know some eminently respectable ‘gentlemen’ go to prostitutes. At least they call themselves gentlemen! Their gentlemen’s laws forbid women to earn a decent living at a respectable profession, and when the poor creatures are forced into a life of disease and poverty and degradation the pious hypocrites visit them and then punish the women for immorality!”
Her eyes swam with tears. David reached out and patted her hand. “I know, Nefret. I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”
“You can’t reform the world overnight, Nefret. Don’t break your heart about things you can’t help.” Ramses knew his voice sounded hard and uncaring, but it tore him apart to see her cry when he couldn’t comfort her as he ached to do. If he ever dared hold her close he would give himself away.
Anyhow, he thought, dragging a girl out of her saddle and dumping her onto his would probably be more painful than romantic.
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and gave him a watery but defiant smile. “I can help. And I will one day, just wait and see.”
Seeing her chin jut out and her mouth set tightly, Ramses understood what his mother meant when she talked about forebodings and premonitions. He was in complete sympathy with Nefret’s sentiments, but she had a dangerous habit of rushing in where angels feared to tread, and this particular cause could lead her into real trouble. Somehow, God only knew how, he would have to keep her away from the House of the Doves—and Layla. Two of Layla’s husbands had died suddenly and violently. If he’d ever seen a woman who did not need help and sympathy, it was that one.
:
We were dining with Cyrus and Katherine one evening that same week when a casual remark of the latter reminded me of a promise I had not kept. Katherine had asked when we expected the younger Emersons and Lia, and Cyrus had offered to put them up at the Castle. He was a sociable individual and enjoyed company, but though his residence was far more commodious and elegant than our humble abode, I declined the invitation with proper expressions of appreciation.
“They are due to arrive in Alexandria on Monday next, but I don’t know how long they will remain in Cairo before coming on.”
“Not long, I expect,” Katherine said. “They will be anxious to be with you. We hope to see a great deal of them. I believe you mentioned that little Miss Emerson is determined to go to university next autumn. If she wants to keep up her studies this winter, remember that I am a former governess and teacher.”
“Good gracious,” I exclaimed. “That reminds me—Fatima! We promised we would find a teacher for her. She is so timid she would not venture to ask again.”
“She has more enterprise than you suppose, Aunt Amelia,” Nefret replied. “She has already made her own arrangements. It seems there is a lady in Luxor who holds private classes.”
The reference was of course lost on Katherine, who requested elucidation. She responded to my explanation with the sympathetic enthusiasm I had come to expect of her.
“To think of that humble little woman harboring such aspirations! She makes me feel thoroughly ashamed of myself. I ought to be conducting such classes myself.”
“Why not start a school?” Cyrus suggested. “Find a suitable building and hire teachers.”
“Do you mean it?” Her face lit up. Katherine had always reminded me of a pleasant tabby cat, with her gray-streaked hair and rounded cheeks and green eyes. One would never have called her beautiful, but when she looked at her husband as she was looking now, she appeared quite beautiful to my eyes—and, it was clear, to his. “Do you mean it, Cyrus? In addition to reading and writing, we could instruct the girls in household management and child care, train those who show ability in a particular area