The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [68]
‘Were you serious, Mrs Emerson?’ Wilson asked. He was rather pale.
‘I prefer not to commit myself, Mr Wilson. But I promise you this. Professor Emerson and I are on the trail, and we have never yet failed to capture . . . Well, at least we have never failed to foil a foe. Which is not a particular compliment to us, since the criminal mind is so inferior. Have no fear, Mr Wilson. You may not be the next victim. Perhaps it will be Mr Budge.’
Mr Wilson did not appear especially cheered by the suggestion.
As he walked away, shoulders bowed and head bent, I was tempted to call him back and offer him a friendly word of advice on dealing with young ladies of Miss Minton’s sort, for it was clear to me that his feelings for her were more than those of a friend. However, I decided not to bother. He was too timid and insecure ever to succeed with such a young lady – nor, in my opinion, did he deserve to.
I spent a few hours in the shops, for my wardrobe was in sad need of refurbishing. Costumes suitable for the vigorous activities of excavation are not the thing in London. I also ordered shirts for Emerson, who had an absent-minded habit of ripping them off when he was in haste to disrobe, and several suits for Ramses, whose habits were just as destructive to clothing as were his father’s, though not, I hardly need add, for the same reasons.
I returned to the house early, for I felt I needed a brief time of repose and contemplation before the teatime encounter with the children. Mrs Watson and Gargery were both waiting for me, Mrs Watson to inform me that she had taken the liberty of confining Ramses to his room, for knocking Percy down and jumping on him, and Gargery to announce there was a gentleman waiting to see me.
I was just as happy to postpone the inevitable visit to Ramses, so I proceeded to the green drawing room. This very formal and handsomely appointed chamber (so called from the green China silk that draped walls and ceilings) was seldom used; I deduced that the caller must be someone of distinguished rank and title to be granted such an honour by Gargery; and as it proved, I was correct.
Lord St John was absorbed in contemplation of a fine Gainsborough portrait of the third Duke that hung over the malachite mantel. As soon as I entered he hastened to apologize for his intrusion.
‘It was an unwarranted liberty on my part, Mrs Emerson, but your butler insisted you were expected back directly and I have something important I want to say to you.’
‘Not at all, your lordship. Please sit down.’ Ringing for the housemaid, I directed her to bring tea. ‘But not the children,’ I added quickly. ‘Not just yet.’
‘Don’t keep the little dears out on my account,’ his lordship begged. ‘I would deem it an honour to meet your children.’
‘You don’t know what you are saying,’ I assured him. ‘In fact, the professor and I have only one son, but we are watching over two of my brother’s children for the summer.’
‘How good of you. But it is only what I might have expected; your kind heart, Mrs Emerson, is as well known as your tireless pursuit of learning.’
His smile changed his entire aspect, smoothing out the lines of weariness (or, as Emerson would probably have said, of dissipation). I flatter myself that I am too much a woman of the world to be deceived by fine manners and a bland smile, however. I acknowledged his compliment with an inclination of my head; apologized for Emerson’s absence; and poured the tea.
‘But perhaps you would prefer something stronger, your lordship? May I offer you a whiskey and soda?’
‘No, thank you.’ He added, with a sly little laugh, ‘I have reformed, Mrs Emerson. Most people would say it was time I did.’
I was a trifle put out by his refusal; I would have joined him in the cup that cheers, but I could hardly sit there swigging down spirits while he genteelly sipped tea. Accepting his cup and a watercress sandwich, he went on more seriously, ‘I have been a sad rascal in my time, Mrs Emerson. Most young men have sowed their fields of wild oats –’
‘And yours, I understand, would