The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [17]
“Naturally,” said Katherine.
Evelyn and Walter did not mingle in local society, and they knew quite well what their stuffy county neighbors thought of the match. That opinion was shared, alas, by most of our archaeological acquaintances, who regarded the Egyptians with whom they worked and lived as inferiors. Certain members of both groups would have come had they been invited, but only out of vulgar curiosity. We had decided, therefore, not to invite them. Only our closest friends and kin were there, and Katherine was certainly correct about the unconventional composition of the guest list.
Gargery was chatting with Kevin O’Connell and his wife. Kevin’s quizzical blue eyes kept wandering from Daoud, almost seven feet tall in his towering turban, to Rose in a hat so loaded with fluttering silk flowers, it looked as if it were about to fly off her head. I did not doubt that he was mentally composing the story he would like to have written for his cursed newspaper. The gentleman and the journalist were always at war with Kevin, but I was certain that on this occasion the gentleman would keep his word, especially since Emerson had threatened to perpetrate various indignities upon his person if he published anything.
The children’s laughing voices rose above the quieter tones of their elders. I still thought of them as children, but most of them were young men and women now; how quickly time passes, I thought with pleasurable melancholy. Raddie, the younger Emersons’s eldest, had gone down from Oxford with high honors; a gentle, scholarly man like his father, he was chatting with Nefret, his head bent attentively and his mild blue eyes fixed on her face. The twins, Johnny and Willy, were in a corner with Ramses. Johnny, the comedian of the family, must have been telling some wild story, for I heard Ramses laugh out loud, which was a rare event. Margaret, Lia’s younger sister, was romping with Bertie and Anna, Katherine’s children. Evelyn was talking with Fatima, who had left off her veil and somber black in honor of the occasion. Emerson had taken Walter and Cyrus Vandergelt aside and was gesturing animatedly. I had no illusions as to the nature of their conversation.
Katherine laughed. “Isn’t this typical—the men huddling together talking archaeology, and the women talking about … Stop me, Amelia; I feel an attack of matchmaking coming on.”
“It is natural on such an occasion as this,” I said. “Who will be next, do you suppose? Neither of yours; they are too young.”
“Not too young to feel the first twinges. I am afraid Anna gave Ramses rather a bad time last year. He handled it very gracefully, I thought.”
“He has had a good deal of practice,” I said dryly. “I cannot imagine why they do it.”
Katherine gave me a sharp poke in the ribs and I saw Ramses at my elbow. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “Have I interrupted a private conversation?”
“Nothing private about it,” Katherine declared, her eyes twinkling. “We were speculating about love affairs. What do you think of Nefret and Raddie, Amelia? He appears rather smitten.”
“He appears absolutely hypnotized,” I said, for I too had observed Raddie’s bemused look and sentimental smile. “She is flirting scandalously with him.”
“She’s just keeping her hand in,” said Ramses tolerantly. “Raddie’s no match for her, though. I had better rescue the poor chap.”
The musicians who had been playing softly in the background now struck up a waltz, and the bride and groom began the first dance. They were soon joined by Walter and Evelyn. Ramses had removed Nefret from her prey; her apple-green skirts flared as he spun her in a wide circle. Johnny was dancing with a young lady named Curtis or Curtin, who had been at Saint Hilda’s with Lia.
I saw no more of the others at that time, for my husband seized me in his masterful grip and led (or, to be more accurate, lifted) me onto the floor. Waltzing with Emerson requires one’s full attention; it is the only