The Curse of the Pharaohs - Elizabeth Peters [63]
I was still pleased with my idea of enlisting Mr. O’Connell, but I knew better than to mention it to Emerson. Hands in his pockets, head bowed, he tramped along in grim silence. In addition to the other disasters of the day, the final hours of work had brought to light some ominous evidence. The men had cleared almost ten metres of the corridor and had finally exposed the figure of a royal personage, probably the owner of the tomb; but, alas, the head of this figure had been savagely mutilated, and the royal name in the inscription above it had been similarly defaced. This proof that the tomb had been violated depressed us all. After moving mountains of stone, would we find only an empty sarcophagus?
This fear would have been enough in itself to justify my husband’s gloomy silence. The prospect of facing Madame Berengeria and Lady Baskerville, whose mood would undoubtedly be unpleasant, further depressed him.
If Mary was concerned about the social embarrassment awaiting her she showed no signs of it. She had endured the long day’s labor far better than her fragile appearance had led me to expect. She and the young men were ahead of us, for Emerson was not in any hurry, and I heard her chatting merrily and even laughing. I observed that she had accepted Karl’s arm and was addressing most of her comments to him. Milverton, on her other side, attempted without success to attract her attention. After a time Milverton stopped and let the others draw ahead. As Emerson and I came up to him, I saw that he was watching the girl’s slim figure with a look of poignant distress.
Emerson plodded on without so much as a glance at the disconsolate young man, but I did not feel it right to neglect such obvious signs of mental perturbation. I therefore let my husband go ahead and, taking Milverton’s arm, requested his assistance. I do not scruple to employ mendacity and a fictitious appearance of female incompetence when the occasion demands it.
Milverton responded like a gentleman. We walked in silence for a time and then, as I had expected, his wounded heart sought the relief of conversation.
“What can she see in him?” he burst out. “He is plain, pedantic, and poor!”
I was tempted to laugh at this damning and alliterative catalog of deficiencies. Instead I sighed and shook my head.
“I fear she is a heartless flirt, Mr. Milverton.”
“I beg to differ,” Mr. Milverton said warmly. “She is an angel.”
“She is certainly as beautiful as an angel,” I agreed amiably.
“She is; she is! She reminds me of that Egyptian queen, don’t you know?—I forget the name—”
“Nefertiti?”
“Yes, that’s the one. And her figure…. Look how gracefully she walks.”
This was not easy to do, for dusk was far advanced, and as I realized this a new uneasiness shadowed my mind even as twilight shadowed the scene. The path was difficult enough in daylight; the rocky descent would not be easy in the dark. Also, night would serve as a cloak to enemies. I only hoped that Emerson’s stubbornness had not exposed us to accident or worse. I took a firmer hold of Milverton’s arm and quickened my pace. We had fallen far behind the others, and Emerson’s form, some distance ahead, was now no more than a shadowy outline against the blossoming stars.
Milverton was still alternately rhapsodizing and reproaching Mary. Conquering my apprehension, I attempted to make him see the situation in the calm light of reason.
“Perhaps she doubts your intentions, Mr. Milverton. They are, I assume, those of an honorable gentleman?”
“You wound me inexpressibly, Mrs. Emerson,” the young man exclaimed. “My feelings are so profound, so respectful—”
“Then why don’t you express them to their object? Have you proposed to her?”
Milverton sighed. “How can I? What have I to offer her, in my situation—”
He stopped speaking with a sharp intake of breath.
I verily believe that my own respiration halted for an instant as the import