The Mummy Case - Elizabeth Peters [0]
THE MUMMY CASE
Contents
Foreword
After the death of the author of these memoirs…
One
I never meant to marry. In my opinion, a woman…
Two
The voyage from Brindisi to Alexandria was without incident. (I…
Three
Though I attempted to conceal my feelings, I was exceedingly…
Four
Clearing my throat, I reassured my husband. “I am quite…
Five
Mazghunah.
Six
In the end Ramses got his way. After considering the…
Seven
The lion cub was in Ramses’ room. Ramses was sitting…
Eight
Emerson’s demonstrations of marital affection are of so tempestuous a…
Nine
The following day saw the moment I had awaited so…
Ten
So sweet, submissive Charity was in reality the Master Criminal…
Eleven
“You said I might go in if you and Papa…
Twelve
The sun was well above the horizon before we were…
About the Author
Praise
Other Books by Elizabeth Peters
Copyright
About the Publisher
Foreword
After the death of the author of these memoirs (of which this is the third volume to appear), her heirs felt that her animated (if biased) descriptions of the early days of excavation in Egypt should not be kept from historians of that period. Since certain episodes involve matters that might embarrass the descendants of the participants therein (and possibly render publisher and editor subject to legal action), it was agreed that the memoirs should appear in the guise of fiction. A certain amount of judicious editing was done, and many of the names were changed, including that of Mrs. “Emerson.” However, in recent years rumors have circulated regarding the accuracy of these works and the identity of their author—originated, we suspect, by disaffected members of Mrs. “Emerson’s” family, who resent their exclusion from the financial proceeds (modest though they are) of the works in question. The editor therefore wishes to disclaim all responsibility for, first, the opinions expressed herein, which are those of the late lamented Mrs. “Emerson”; and second, certain minor errors of fact, which are due in part to Mrs. “Emerson’s” faulty memory and in even larger part to her personal eccentricities and prejudices.
The editor also wishes to apologize for the stylistic peculiarities of this foreword, which seems to have been unconsciously influenced by the literary style of Mrs. “Emerson.” She would no doubt be pleased at such a demonstration of the influence she continues to exert on those who were affected by it during her long and vigorous life.
One
I never meant to marry. In my opinion, a woman born in the last half of the nineteenth century of the Christian era suffered from enough disadvantages without willfully embracing another. That is not to say that I did not occasionally indulge in daydreams of romantic encounters; for I was as sensible as any other female of the visible attractions of the opposite sex. But I never expected to meet a man who was my match, and I had no more desire to dominate a spouse than to be ruled by him. Marriage, in my view, should be a balanced stalemate between equal adversaries.
I had resigned myself to a life of spinsterhood when, at a somewhat advanced age, I met Radcliffe Emerson. Our first encounter was not romantic. Never will I forget my initial sight of Emerson, as we stood face to face in that dismal hall of the Boulaq Museum—his black beard bristling, his blue eyes blazing, his fists clenched, his deep baritone voice bellowing invectives at me for dusting off the antiquities. Yet even as I answered his criticism in kind, I knew in my heart that our lives would be intertwined.
I had several logical, sensible reasons for accepting Emerson’s offer of marriage. Emerson was an Egyptologist; and my first visit to the realm of the pharaohs planted seeds of affection for that antique land that were soon to blossom into luxuriant flower. Emerson’s keen intelligence and acerbic tongue—which had won him the title “Father of Curses” from his devoted Egyptian workmen—made him a foeman worthy of my steel. And yet, dear Reader, these were not my real reasons for yielding