The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [128]
“Of Nefret?” I could not help laughing. “He is a perfect gentleman, and Nefret is not the sort of woman who is easily taken advantage of. Depend upon it, we will hear from her soon.”
We did hear, the following evening. The letter was handwritten and delivered by messenger. “I hope you haven’t been worried about me. We will be home in a few days, Geoffrey and I. We were married this morning.”
TEN
Ah, the wonder of those chill desert nights! How often have I laid [sic!] wrapped only in a blanket looking up at the canopy of stars and thinking of Him who made them. A man whose thoughts and acts are not ennobled by such experiences is beyond redemption.
FROM MANUSCRIPT H
The Amelia’s gangplank was out and David was on deck, leaning on the rail and smoking his pipe. His thin brown face broadened in a smile when he saw Ramses, and he came with long strides to meet him.
“I hoped we’d see you this afternoon,” he said. “You weren’t at the train station this morning.”
“I’m sorry, there was something else I had to do.” He gripped David’s outstretched hand. “I’ve missed you.”
“I can’t say that you have been foremost in my thoughts the entire time.”
Ramses laughed. “Had that been the case I would question your sanity. So—”
“So stop behaving like an Englishman.” David held out his arms. “Embrace me as a brother should.”
The landing stage was used by the steamers that carried tourists from Cairo; only Emerson’s prestige (and, Ramses suspected, a judicious application of baksheesh from Reis Hassan) had won the Amelia permission to use it. The location was within walking distance of the house, and the convenience of this outweighed the disadvantage of the crowds that filled the area several times daily. Some of them stared and whispered at the sight of two men in European dress embracing one another.
“The devil with them, as the Professor would say,” said David, sketching an impertinent parody of a salaam at a staring woman. He was looking well, Ramses thought; his face was fuller and there was a new firmness in the set of his well-cut lips. Ramses had looked forward to this moment for weeks. Now there was so much to say he didn’t know where to begin.
David saved him the worst of it. “Aunt Amelia told me about Nefret. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. Why are we standing here? I haven’t said hello to Lia.”
“She can wait,” said Lia’s husband. “For God’s sake, Ramses, don’t pretend, not with me. What happened?”
“Mother told you about the child?”
“Yes. I won’t ask why you didn’t write me about her; you never tell me anything! It must have been a frightful shock having her turn up out of the blue with that filthy swine Kalaan. But there has to be more to it than that. Even Nefret wouldn’t rush off and get married unless …”
“Unless she loved him.”
“Do you believe that?”
“What I believe is immaterial. It’s over and done with.” The desire to pour out his anger and bewilderment to the one person who knew most of the truth was almost overpowering. He couldn’t do that, though. Not even to David could he admit what had happened between Nefret and him. A man who had just had an arm or a leg amputated might feel the same, he supposed, the wound too raw to bear the slightest touch.
“It was clever of Kalaan to approach you instead of Percy,” David said thoughtfully. “Trying to blackmail him would have been a waste of time. And of course everyone in Cairo knows you and your parents by sight and by reputation.”
“That’s the logical explanation,” Ramses said. “If one were charitably inclined one would assume Kalaan didn’t know the truth either.”
“But the woman must know. Aunt Amelia said you’ve been searching for her.”
“Not to force a public confession out of her, if that’s what you suppose. No one would believe her anyhow. The damage is done.” Indignation furrowed David’s broad forehead, but Ramses cut him off before he could protest. “It’s done, I said. We have several more pressing problems to deal with. I wish I could leave you and Lia in peace for a while longer, but you know the family too well