The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [78]
‘For pity’s sake, Emerson!’ I exclaimed, dropping my brush. ‘He was only being polite. I hope you didn’t express it so bluntly as that.’
‘What do you take me for, Peabody? I don’t recall the precise words, but I was the soul of tact, as always.’
His hands came to rest on my shoulders and his face was reflected in the mirror before me. I could not help laughing, he looked so pleased with himself.
‘The young man doesn’t give a curse about your wife, Emerson. It is Nefret he is interested in.’
‘He scarcely spoke to her all evening.’
‘Precisely. Emerson, what are you doing?’
‘I am making certain,’ said Emerson, ‘that you will not be led astray by the attentions of a smooth-talking young aristocrat.’
‘But Emerson, you must be weary, and I have not finished my one hundred strokes, and it is late . . .’
‘Then why are we wasting time in conversation?’
It was certainly a reasonable argument. Besides, I had intended to use all possible means to prevent Emerson from returning to the tomb that night. This means proved to be as effective as I had hoped.
However, we were not to enjoy a restful night’s sleep. It was a little after two in the morning when the now familiar sounds of a violent struggle roused me. Long years of practise had trained me to respond alertly and instantaneously; I had retrieved my nightdress and slipped into it before Emerson came fully awake. I called out a little reminder – ‘Don’t forget your trousers, my dear’ – caught up my parasol, and ran to the door.
I found myself a trifle confused initially, for of course I had instinctively started for Ramses’ room, which was across the corridor from ours. His door stood ajar, but so did another – that of Nefret’s chamber. Light streamed through the opening and the continuing sounds of an altercation issued therefrom.
Parasol at the ready, I dashed in – and stopped short. Two individuals were struggling. I had anticipated as much. What I had not anticipated was that the individuals should be Nefret and Miss Marmaduke.
Advancing, I ordered them to desist at once. They broke apart, panting and trembling. Gertrude’s loosened hair hung over her face and her nightgown had lost several buttons, but Nefret was in worse case. Her gown hung open to the waist and had been pulled off one shoulder. Catching my eye she hurriedly adjusted it and burst into speech.
‘She struck him, Aunt Amelia! She was trying to –’
‘Oh, heavens!’ Gertrude sagged at the knees and leaned heavily against the wall. ‘I did not know! I thought – good God! He has come back! Don’t let him go near her!’
‘He’ was David, accompanied by Ahmed, who had been on guard outside Ramses’ window. Nefret had flung herself down on her knees at the foot of the bed. It struck me as an inappropriate moment for prayer, but before I could comment on this Nefret turned to me with a gesture of appeal and I saw to my horror that her raised hand was stained crimson.
‘Help me, Aunt Amelia. And don’t let that woman –’
‘Certainly not,’ said Emerson, from the doorway. ‘Amelia, you had better do as she asks. No one else move.’
I knew what I would see. Only one member of the party was not visible, and he was usually the first to turn up.
Ramses was curled up on the floor, half-hidden by the tumbled bedclothes and by the bed itself. Nefret was tugging at his bloody hands, which were clasped tightly over his side. His eyes were open.
Seeing me, he said, ‘Good evening, Mother. It was not David.’
‘Indeed?’ I pushed Nefret out of the way, rather more forcibly than was necessary, and knelt by Ramses. He allowed me to lift his hands, remarking, ‘It would be advisable to stop the bleeding, I believe; I am beginning to feel a trifle giddy, and there are several things I want to say before –’
‘I can well believe that, Ramses.’
He had been holding a part