The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [11]
After I had finished reading, I followed Emerson’s exam-ple and tossed the clippings overboard. He had been quite right; the whole affair was humbug, unworthy of the attention of a sensible person. We had not seen the end of it, though. Our names had been mentioned, our authority appealed to; we owed it to ourselves and our scholarly reputations to deny the allegations as vigorously as possible.
Humbug it was, unquestionably. And yet there were those withered flowers . . .
II
MORE recently than in Spenser’s day the ‘sweete Themmes’ ran ‘softly,’ through green banks whereon ‘the Violet pallid grew; The little Dazie that at evening closes, The virgin Lillie and the Primrose trew.’ I have spoken with Londoners who could still remember summer trips to the pastoral beauties of Greenwich as delights of their childhood. But long before the time of which I write the trees on the Isle of Dogs had given way to ugly factories belching black smoke into the filthy cloud that hung over London like a funeral pall. The river, lined with mean houses and coaling docks and warehouses, flowed sullen and slow, befouled by unspeakable and unthinkable refuse. Standing on the deck as our steamer headed for the Royal Albert Dock, I observed it was raining. It always seemed to rain the day we returned to England.
Yet though I thought with fond nostalgia of the hot blue skies of Egypt, I could not help but be stimulated by my proximity to the greatest of cities – centre of Empire, home of intellectual and artistic prowess, land of the free, and home of true British grit.
I remarked as much to Emerson. ‘My dear Emerson, there is something stimulating about returning to the centre of Empire, the home of intellectual and artistic –’
‘Don’t talk such blood – er – blooming nonsense, Amelia,’ Emerson growled, applying his handkerchief to my cheek and displaying a grimy smudge. ‘The very air is black.’
Ramses stood between us – I held him by one arm, Emerson by the other – and of course he had to add his opinion. ‘Anatomical studies on the cadavers of Londoners prove that prolonged breathing of this atmosphere turns the lungs quite black. However, I believe Mama was not referring to the physical environment, but to the intellectual –’
‘Be still, Ramses,’ I said automatically.
‘I am quite aware of what your mama meant,’ Emerson said, scowling. ‘What are you up to, Amelia? I will probably be obliged to spend more time than I would like in this filthy town if I am to finish my book –’
‘You will unquestionably be obliged to spend a great deal of time in London if you are to finish it before we return to Egypt next autumn. Considering that the Oxford University Press announced its imminent publication a year ago –’
‘Don’t nag, Amelia!’
I shot a reproachful glance at Emerson and a meaningful glance at Ramses, who was listening with owl-eyed interest. Emerson put on a sugary-sweet smile. ‘Ha, ha. Your mama and I are joking, Ramses. She never nags; and I would not be so rude as to mention it even if she did.’
‘Ha, ha,’ said Ramses.
‘As I was saying,’ Emerson resumed – turning his head away so Ramses would not see him scowl, ‘I cannot help but wonder, Amelia, if you are suddenly enamoured of this pestilential ant heap of human misery because you –’
‘Dear me,’ I said. ‘We are all becoming a trifle smutty. Ramses, your nose . . . There, that is better. Where is the cat Bastet?’
‘In the cabin, of course,’ said Emerson. ‘She has better sense than to expose herself to this pernicious atmosphere.’
‘Then let us retire and complete our preparations for disembarking,’ I suggested. ‘Ramses, you have Bastet’s collar? Remember, tie the lead to your wrist and do not allow her . . .’ But Ramses had departed, wriggling from my grasp with eellike agility.
The sullen skies were just as dark when we again stood on the deck, but for me they were brightened by the sight of those who awaited us