The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [182]
“She has miscarried,” I said. “It is over. She is in no danger. Lia is with her, and Kadija.”
Ramses sat down, rather in the manner of Queen Victoria, who never looked to see whether there was a chair to receive her. Fortunately he was standing in front of the sofa.
“Don’t look like that,” I exclaimed. “She is perfectly all right. This sort of thing is … is not uncommon.”
“But it rather compounds my offense, don’t you think?” Ramses inquired. “Not only her husband, but her—”
“That is morbid and self-indulgent,” I said sharply. “The wretched man was a murderer and you risked yourself trying to save his life.”
“Does she know that? My blow knocked him into the shaft. She didn’t see what happened afterward.”
“She must know. If she doesn’t, I will tell her. As for … As for the other, it was not even … She was only…. I am speaking of weeks, not months.”
Ramses pulled himself to his feet. “Excuse me. I will be in my room if I am wanted.”
David started after him. Ramses turned on his friend with lowering brows and bared teeth. Never had he so closely resembled his father. “For God’s sake, leave me alone!”
“Oh, dear,” I said. “Oh, dear! David—”
“Never mind, Aunt Amelia. I understand. I’ll be nearby if he should want me.” He followed Ramses out.
Emerson took me by the hand. “Sit down, my dearest. You are certain Nefret is safe?”
“Oh yes,” I said wearily. “She is young and strong; she will be herself again in a few days. It is Ramses I am concerned about. He seems to blame himself, and there is no need, Emerson, indeed there is not; it was Geoffrey’s doing, all of it, from start to finish. I must go to Ramses, Emerson, and tell him—”
“No, sweetheart. Not now.”
“Come and sit by me, Emerson, please. And you might just put your arm round me, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“My darling!” Holding me close, he rocked me gently as he would have rocked a child. “It’s all right, Peabody. We’ll weather this as we have weathered other troubles. It could be worse, you know.”
“Could be, and has been,” I agreed, taking heart from his closeness and strength. “Does your wound pain you, my dear? Perhaps I ought to have another look at it. I was in something of a hurry when—”
“No,” Emerson said emphatically. “I feel half a mummy as it is.”
“When I think what horrible harm that wretched man has done, I am sorry his death was so quick,” I said fiercely. “It was money he wanted, wasn’t it? No crime was too vile if it brought him wealth—dealing in drugs, robbing a tomb, selling forgeries—even marrying Nefret.”
Emerson shook his head. “Her fortune was certainly an attraction, but as you know, Peabody, it is entirely under her control. I think he loved her as much as he was capable of loving anyone. In his own strange way.”
“Strange indeed. How could we have been so obtuse, Emerson? All the evidence that made me suspect Jack applied equally well to Geoffrey, once I realized that the wretch had been poor Maude’s lover. Why that possibility did not occur to me long ago I cannot imagine.”
“Nor can I,” said Emerson.
“Jack would never have had the imagination to think of manufacturing forgeries to cover up his sale of illegal antiquities,” I went on. “He trusted Geoffrey; it would not have occurred to him that his friend would seduce his sister and use her for his own evil ends. She was putty in his hands, until she lost her heart to another and hoped to win his regard by betraying Geoffrey.”
“Well, now, Peabody, that does seem extraordinary,” Emerson remarked, in almost his normal voice. “She was a poor, silly little creature, but would she have been fool enough to believe a confession of that sort could win Ramses’s affection? And how did Geoffrey get wind of her intention in time to stop her?”
“She warned him, of course,” I said wearily. “To a silly, romantic girl, that would seem the honorable thing to do. She never realized how ruthless he was. Women can be perfect idiots where a man is concerned.”
“Why, my dear, I believe that is the first time I have ever heard you make