The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [49]
‘Hmmm. Well, Miss Minton, I certainly sympathize with your aspirations and I quite understand that the profession you have chosen makes difficult demands on a woman.’
‘Then you forgive me?’ the young lady asked, clasping her hands.
‘Forgiveness is required of Christians and I hope I always perform my Christian duty. I hold no grudge, but that doesn’t mean I have any intention of cooperating with you in your quest for a sensation.’
‘Of course not. Er – you aren’t by chance going to Scotland Yard, are you?’
I looked sharply at her and saw that her lips had curved in a smile. ‘Ah,’ I said. ‘You are having a little joke at my expense. Very amusing, upon my word. In fact, I am going to insert an advertisement in the Post. Not one of your mysterious notices in the agony columns, but a simple request for a servant. After that I am going to meet my husband at the British Museum, where he is working – not on the mysterious mummy problem, but on his history of ancient Egypt. All very harmless and innocent, you see; you are at liberty to follow me if you like, since I can’t very well prevent you, but it will be a waste of your time as well as a long, tiring walk.’
Miss Minton’s eyes widened. ‘You are going to walk to Fleet Street and then to Bloomsbury?’
‘Certainly. Mens sana in corpore sano, Miss Minton; a mens sana is dependent, in my opinion, upon a corpore sano, and regular exercise –’
‘Oh, I quite agree,’ Miss Minton exclaimed. ‘And now I understand your youthful appearance and fit, handsome figure. I hope you don’t mind my saying that.’
I shook my head, smiling; for really, the girl had very pretty, charming manners when she chose to display them. ‘And your costume,’ she went on, ‘how practical and yet how becoming. In the best of taste and yet comfortable.’
‘I wish I could say the same of you,’ I replied good-naturedly. ‘Not that your dress isn’t very pretty. Sleeves have become even larger, I observe (though I would not have supposed it to be possible), and the width of your skirt allows you to walk freely without swaddling your limbs in excessive fabric. The colour – what do they call it this year – saffron, mustard, goldenrod? – it becomes your complexion. And those scrolls of braid on the wrists and lapels . . . You had better button the coat, Miss Minton, the wind is a touch cool. Here, allow me. Yes, it is as I suspected; your stays are too tight. It is a wonder you can catch your breath.’ I proceeded to give her a little lecture on the iniquitous effect of tight corseting upon the internal organs, to which she listened without attempting to conceal her interest. All at once she said impulsively, ‘How interesting all this is. Mrs Emerson, would you – could you – is it possible that you would consent to stop and have a cup of tea with me while we continue this discussion?’
I hesitated; for indeed I was reluctant to give up the hope of converting yet another young woman to the advantages of rational dress and perhaps saving her health, or even her life. She went on persuasively, ‘You won’t lose any time, I promise; for if you will permit me the very great pleasure of doing a small service for you, as apology and thanks, I will be happy to insert your advertisement in the Post. I am going to Fleet Street in any case. That will save you a good many steps, since you can go directly to the Museum.’
Waving her umbrella, she indicated a nearby shop. I recognized the name; it was one of a line of teashops which catered, I had been told, to respectable ladies of the professional class, of which there were a growing number. (Though not so many as there ought to have been.)
We had a nice little talk. The conversation ranged widely, from fashions to the rights of women, from marriage (to which institution I have certain serious objections, though personally my experience has been almost entirely positive) to the profession of journalism. However, I confess (since the reader has probably suspected it already) that my chief interest was in subtly extracting from Miss Minton all she knew about the case of the malignant mummy.