The Curse of the Pharaohs - Elizabeth Peters [30]
The wooden gates swung open as we approached, and we rode directly into the courtyard. Pillars supported a cloister-like walkway, roofed with red tiles, which ran along three sides. All the rooms opened onto this open-sided corridor, and at my request Karl took us on a brief tour of inspection. I could not help but be impressed at the forethought that had gone into the arrangement of the house; if I had not known better, I would have thought a woman had planned it. A number of bedchambers, small but comfortable, had been designed for the use of the staff and for visitors. Larger chambers, as well as a small room which served as a bath, had been reserved for Lord and Lady Baskerville. Karl informed us that his lordship’s room was now ours and I found the arrangements all I could wish. One section of the room had been fitted out as a study, with a long table and a row of bookshelves containing an Egyptological library.
Today such accommodations are not unique, and archaeological staffs are often large; but at that time, when an expedition sometimes consisted of one harassed scholar directing the diggers, keeping his own records and accounts, cooking his own meals and washing his own stockings—if he bothered to wear them—Baskerville House was a phenomenon. One entire wing contained a large dining room and a sizable parlor or common room, which opened onto the columned loggia. The furnishings of this latter chamber were a curious blend of the ancient and modern. Woven mattings covered the floor, and filmy white curtains at the long French doors helped to keep out insects. Chairs and couches were of royal-blue plush; the picture frames and mirrors were heavily carved and gilded. There was even a Gramophone with a large collection of operatic recordings, the late Sir Henry having been a devotee of that form of music.
As we entered, a man rose from the sofa on which he had been reclining. His pallor, and the unsteadiness of his gait as he advanced to meet us, rendered Karl’s introduction unnecessary; this was the ailing Mr. Milverton. I immediately led him back to the sofa and placed my hand on his brow.
“Your fever is gone,” I said. “But you are still suffering from the debility produced by the illness and should not have left your bed.”
“For heaven’s sake, Amelia, restrain yourself,” Emerson grumbled. “I had hoped that on this expedition you would not succumb to your delusion that you are a qualified physician.”
I knew the cause of his ill temper. Mr. Milverton was an extremely handsome young fellow. The slow smile that spread across his face as he glanced from me to my husband showed even white teeth and well-cut lips. His golden locks fell in becoming disarray over a high white brow. Yet his good looks were entirely masculine and his constitution had not been seriously impaired by his illnesss; the breadth of his chest and shoulders were those of a young athlete.
“You are more than kind, Mrs. Emerson,” he said. “I assure you, I am quite recovered and have been looking forward to meeting you and your famous husband.”
“Humph,” said Emerson, in a slightly more genial tone. “Very well; we will begin tomorrow morning—”
“Mr. Milverton should not risk the noonday sun for several days,” I said.
“Again I remind you,” said Emerson, “that you are not a physician.”
“And I remind you of what happened to you on one occasion when you disregarded my medical advice.”
A singularly evil look spread over Emerson’s features. Deliberately he turned from me to Karl. “And where is Lady Baskerville?” he inquired. “A delightful woman!”
“She is,” said Karl. “And I have for you, Professor, a particular message from that most distinguished lady. She stays at the Luxor Hotel; it would not be proper, you understand, for her to inhabit this place without another lady to companion her, now that her esteemed husband—”
“Yes, yes,” Emerson said impatiently.