The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [82]
Dinner that evening was a merry meal. Cyrus had brought several bottles of champagne and insisted on toasting everyone and everything. His final toast was in the nature of an announcement.
“Here’s to you, folks, our best friends and near family. We’ve missed you so durned much, we’ve decided to give up the house in Luxor and move to Cairo—isn’t that right, Katherine? I’m gonna see M. Maspero after Christmas and ask him about a firman for next season.”
Our expressions of pleasure and surprise made Cyrus beam. He then began to question Emerson about possible sites.
My contributions to the conversation were spasmodic, for I was preoccupied with our forthcoming council of war. We had determined to hold it that evening; Howard was due to arrive next day, and the following day was Christmas. In my opinion it is a good idea to get unpleasant business over with as quickly as possible. Parts of it at least would certainly be unpleasant. We had asked Daoud and Selim to join us after dinner, and I was trying to think how best to manage the business as I led the way into the lantern-lit courtyard.
The main thing was to keep the discussion under firm control and not let it wander off into unproductive displays of emotion. I felt reasonably certain Emerson could not manage this. He believes he is rational and unsentimental, but he is mistaken.
There was one individual whom I could count on to refrain from emotional displays, so I drew him aside while the others were settling into their chairs. “Ramses, I believe the best way of going about this is to tell our friends how we found out about the fakes and what we have done to pursue the matter. Narrate it as you would a story, or perhaps a statement to the police—”
“You want me to do it?” Ramses asked, his emphatic black eyebrows drawing together.
I took this as an expression of surprise rather than refusal. “Yes, why not? You have more or less conquered your youthful tendency toward verbosity. Be succinct and factual. Include all the pertinent details but none that are superfluous. Avoid expressions of opinion. Assure our friends that never for a moment did we doubt David’s integrity, but do not dwell at excessive length on the warmth of our feelings and the strength of our commitment to—” I broke off in mid-sentence and looked closely at him. It was rather dark in that corner of the courtyard. I stood on tiptoe in order to see his face more distinctly. “Are you by any chance grinding your teeth, Ramses?”
“No, Mother.”
“Your lips are compressed to a degree that often expresses exasperation.”
“I am not exasperated, Mother. Rather the reverse, in fact. But,” he said, glancing over my head, “here are Daoud and Selim. Tell me when you want me to begin.”
“I will give you your cue,” I promised.
Daoud, the Beau Brummel of the family, had dressed for the occasion in silken robes and an astonishing turban. Selim looked very handsome in less extravagant but elegant garments. Fatima served coffee and Emerson offered brandy. I was among those who accepted the latter beverage and Cyrus gave me a questioning look.
“All right, folks,” he said in his amiable American drawl. “Something’s up, I reckon. Here we are sitting around in a circle for all the world like a board meeting, and Amelia’s drinking brandy instead of whiskey and soda, and Emerson’s chewed halfway through his pipe stem, and Miss Nefret’s as fidgety as a bird when a cat’s near its nest. Do Selim and Daoud know what this is all about, or are they in the dark too?”
“They won’t be for long,” I said. “Nor will you. You are right, Cyrus. We have something to tell you—all of you. I beg that you—including Selim and Daoud—will contain your expressions of surprise, distress or indignation until you have heard the entire story, for it would be an unnecessary waste of time to comment—”
Ramses cleared his throat. “Yes,” I said. “Proceed, Ramses.”
He told it quite well, beginning with the visit of Mr. Renfrew with the scarab, and his accusation of David. The only reaction from Selim was a sharp intake of breath.