The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [47]
With Ramses sunk in brooding silence and Emerson fidgeting and Percy spouting questions like a repeater rifle, and Violet becoming increasingly sticky from the sweets she sucked (a supply of these being the only method of keeping her from whining), I cannot say I enjoyed the journey. However, all anguish must end at last; green fields gave way to suburban villas and then to the wilderness of brick and mortar that is the city. After crossing the bridge under which the grey water flowed with sluggish flood, and enduring the chaos of traffic that filled the Strand, we arrived at the relative peace of St James’s Square.
Luncheon was waiting for us, but Emerson announced he would not partake of it.
‘You are going out?’ I inquired. My tone was calm and pleasant as I hope it always is, but Emerson reads the innermost secrets of my heart. Twisting his hat in his hands and trying to avoid my intent look, he said, ‘Well, but Peabody, there is nothing I can do here. If I could assist you –’
‘Oh, I have nothing to do either, Emerson. Only settling the children, and unpacking, and speaking to cook about dinner and explaining to the house maids that on no account must they touch any of Ramses’ experiments, and replying to a dozen letters and notes –’
‘What letters and notes?’ Emerson demanded. ‘Curse it, Amelia, I will not be distracted by social obligations. How did the writers of these notes and letters learn we were to be in London?’
‘The news is generally known, I suppose,’ I replied. ‘Evelyn informed the staff here of the expected time of our arrival, and you know servants will gossip about the doings of persons like ourselves.’
‘And you wrote to everyone you know, inviting them to call on us,’ Emerson grumbled.
‘Only those professional friends whom I knew you would want to see, Emerson. Howard Carter and Mr Quibell, Frank Griffith, who is at University College –’
‘Then read your cursed notes and letters and reply to them. Only don’t expect me to be present at luncheon, tea, and what-not when you entertain. I have work to do, Peabody!’
Slapping his hat on his head, he charged out the door.
In fact, my dear Evelyn had done everything possible to make our temporary residence in London as free of care as it could be. There was always a skeleton staff at Chalfont House, on board wages when the family was not in residence. The staff was actually much larger than was required, for Evelyn, who has the kindest heart in the world, was always taking in bedraggled young girls and offering them refuge. The housekeeper, though not at all bedraggled and certainly not young, was also an object of her charity; a distant relation of Evelyn’s mother, now long deceased, she had been the wife of a village clergyman and had been left destitute and without occupation upon the death of her husband. Being keenly aware of the tribulations of this class of women – gentlewomen without education, training, or resources – Evelyn had provided her not only with a refuge, but a purpose and an occupation. Mrs Watson had responded with a grateful determination to be of use to her kind employer. The young girls she trained, some of them rescued from situations so horrible I would fear to tax the reader’s sympathy by relating them, looked on her as a mother, and most of them went on to excellent situations or to marriage.
Knowing that this good lady would have matters well in hand, I had been guilty of a slight exaggeration when I complained to Emerson; even so, there were a number of things to be discussed before a smooth routine could be established, and I settled down with Mrs Watson to discuss them.
We had not brought any of our servants with us. Rose was my second-in-command; Amarna House could not get on without her. Wilkins was – to be quite honest – more trouble than he was worth. I had considered