The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [132]
Lia was laughing as she brushed at the dusty pawmarks on her frock. “It’s good to be home,” she declared, and hugged everyone in turn.
I rather expected Emerson would try to carry them off to his study to show them the plans of the site and explain at tedious length what he meant to do; but he seemed not quite himself. He had not gone with me to the hotel that morning, so this would be his first meeting since her precipitate marriage with the girl he loved like a daughter. I wondered if he had been hurt—no, I knew he had been hurt by her failure to share her feelings with him. Not that Emerson would ever have said so. I only hoped he would behave himself and not take it out on Geoffrey.
He and Nefret were so close on the heels of Lia and David, I wondered whether they had lingered until after we were all assembled. Both of them had reason to expect remonstrances or expressions of resentment, and there is safety in numbers. Nefret flew into Lia’s arms, leaving the rest of us to converge on the unfortunate youth she had espoused. He carried it off quite well, I must say; mine was the first hand he clasped, but it was Emerson he addressed first, with a manful acknowledgment of error.
“I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, sir. I ought to have spoken to you and Mrs. Emerson; I ought to have waited a decent interval. I have no excuse except that I love her so very much.”
“Well, hmph,” said Emerson.
It was a more gracious response than I had dared expect.
Everyone was trying hard to behave normally. Geoffrey continued to command my regard; his congratulations and best wishes to the other pair of newly married persons were nicely expressed, and his manner toward me was that of an affectionate son. I could have wished he had not been quite so considerate of my advanced age and female frailty, settling me tenderly in a chair and supplying unnecessary footstools and cushions, but it would take a while, I supposed, before he was entirely at ease with me.
We settled down around the fountain and the entire household staff appeared with food and drink. They were all related to David in some degree or other, and they had been waiting eagerly to greet him and his bride. It was amusing to see Geoffrey stare as David took the tray of little sandwiches from Fatima so that she and Lia could hug one another. David went round the whole grinning circle, kissing cousins on both cheeks and shaking hands with more distant kin, and then Fatima bustled them out, with a last fond look at David.
“The fantasia is the day after tomorrow,” I said. “I forgot to tell you, Nefret. You—and Geoffrey—will come, of course.”
One day, I thought, I might be able to add his name to hers without having to stop and think about it.
“Of course,” she said, and smiled at me.
I had never seen her look lovelier. She was wearing a new frock and her cheeks were brilliant.
Ramses had not made an appearance, and I began to wonder whether he was sulking or had climbed out a back window. I ought to have known better. Avoiding awkwardness was not his habit; he had, rather, waited until he was sure of being the focus of all eyes. He was carrying the child when he came slowly down the stairs.
The only word that occurs to me is “bedecked.” Her frilliest frock, her largest hair bow, her most lavishly gilded slippers, and several strings of sparkling beads (which I had not purchased) adorned her small person. She looked like a full-blown pink rose.
Four new faces were too much for even a child of her astonishing self-possession. She buried her face in Ramses’s shoulder and clutched him round the neck, but not before the others had seen her features clearly.
“Good Lord!” Geoffrey breathed. He was sitting next to me on the settee; I was the only one who heard him. Ramses emitted noises suggestive of strangulation, which made Sennia giggle and loosen her grip.
“She’s a bit shy with strangers,