The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [58]
‘Of course, my dear. Dare we hope that the rest of the tomb is decorated in the same way?’
‘Unknown. However, this is certainly part of a larger scene.
You were looking for something to rouse Evelyn, were you not? I think this might do the job.’
‘Why, Emerson,’ I cried. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We must begin collecting a staff, Peabody. We will certainly want an artist. Carter is an excellent copyist, but he cannot be spared from his other duties. We need Evelyn, and it is high time she resumed the career she abandoned when she married Walter. We will need him too – there will be inscriptions, possibly papyri.’ Emerson had begun striding up and down the room, eyes glittering. ‘I will telegraph in the morning.’
‘So it is for your own selfish reasons that you propose this?’
Emerson stopped pacing and looked seriously at me. ‘Quite aside from the fact that I consider Evelyn to have a rare talent for capturing the spirit as well as the details of Egyptian painting, this is precisely what she needs at this time – distraction, hard work, commendation. She won’t accept, however, unless we can convince her she is doing us a service. You must persuade her of that.’
Tears of admiration dimmed my eyes as I gazed fondly upon Emerson. He is so large and so very loud that even I occasionally lose sight of his underlying sensitivity and perception. Few men would have understood a woman’s needs so accurately. (To be sure, he had been often reminded of my needs, but he might have been forgiven for believing me to be unique.) He had hit the nail square on the head. Hard work, appreciation, the exercise of her God-given talent, and a soupçon of danger for spice – that was precisely what Evelyn required, and what she secretly yearned for. I found myself remembering a certain large black parasol. No one had known Evelyn possessed it until she had used it to thump a burglar into submission.
‘You have hit the nail square on the head, Emerson,’ I said. ‘We will both telegraph in the morning. Even if we do not locate the tomb –’
‘We will locate it, Peabody.’
‘How?’
‘It is late, my dear. Come to bed.’
I was up with the dawn, inspired even beyond my usual energy by the interesting activities that awaited me. Enemies closing in on every hand, a suffering patient awaiting my attentions, Evelyn to be persuaded – and a royal tomb to be found and rescued. We would probably have to fight off half the population of Gurneh if – when! – we located it. The prospects were delightful.
Leaving Emerson sleeping I hastened to Ramses’ room, where I found both lads awake and engaged in low-voiced conversation – if conversation it could be called when Ramses was doing all the talking. After I had examined the patient I decided the first order of business was to feed him. I requested Ramses to fetch a tray. This seemed to surprise David a great deal. I presume he was not accustomed to being waited upon. He ate with good appetite, and when he had finished I explained what I intended to do next.
After some rather animated discussion, Ramses suggested I leave the job to him. I demurred at first, on the grounds that Ramses had yet to demonstrate his ability to wash himself, much less other people, but David’s expression warned me that he would fight like a tiger if I persisted. Nothing less than complete submersion and prolonged soaking would have the desired effect, so I left him to the tender mercies of Ramses and went off to have my own breakfast.
The others had assembled, and after I had reported on my patient’s condition, Gertrude said hesitantly, ‘I wish to offer my apologies, Mrs Emerson, for my cowardly behaviour last night. It was such a shock, coming on that terrible scene. But I ought to have had better control over myself. I promise it will not occur a second time. The Professor has told me about the poor boy. Would you like me to sit with him today while you are pursuing your archaeological activities?’
‘Not necessary,’ Emerson replied.