The Mummy Case - Elizabeth Peters [27]
“I do refuse,” said Emerson, his nose in the air. “Unfortunately, my wife’s principles are more elastic than mine.”
“We are looking for papyri for Walter,” I explained.
“Ah, yes—Professor Emerson the younger. One of the finest students of the language. But I’m afraid you will find the competition keen, Mrs. Amelia. With so many of the younger men studying Egyptian, everyone wants new texts.”
“Including yourself?” I asked, with a keen look at Mr. Wilberforce.
“To be sure. But,” the American said, his eyes twinkling, “I’ll play fair and square, ma’am. If you find something worthwhile, I won’t try to steal it.”
“Which is more than can be said for some of our associates,” grumbled Emerson. “If you happen to meet Wallis Budge, tell him I carry a stout stick and will use it on anyone who tries to make off with my property.”
I did not hear Mr. Wilberforce’s reply. My attention was caught by two people who had just entered the lounge.
The young man had turned his head to address his companion. The profile thus displayed was pure Greek, with the spare and exquisite modeling of a fifth-century Apollo or Hermes. His hair, brushed back from his high, classical brow, shone like electrum, the blend of silver and gold used by the Egyptians in their most priceless ornaments. The extreme pallor of his skin—which led me to deduce that he had not been long in the sunny clime of Egypt—added to the impression of a carving in alabaster. Then he smiled, in response to some comment of his companion, and a remarkable transformation took place. Benevolence beamed from every aspect of his countenance. The marble statue came alive.
The lady with him…was no lady. Her gown of deep-purple satin in the latest and most extravagant style suggested not the world of fashion but the demi-monde. It was trimmed with sable and beads, ruffles and lace, bows, puffs and plumes, yet it managed to bare an improper amount of plump white bosom. Gems blazed from every part of her portly person, and cosmetics covered every square centimeter of her face. If the gentleman was a classic marble carving, his companion was a blowsy, painted carnival statue.
Emerson jogged my elbow. “What are you gaping at, Amelia? Mr. Wilberforce asked you a question.”
“I beg your pardon,” I said. “I confess I was staring at that extremely handsome young man.”
“You and every other lady in the room,” said Mr. Wilberforce. “It is a remarkable face, is it not? I was reminded when I first met him of the young horsemen on the Parthenon frieze.”
The pair came toward us, the female clinging to her companion’s arm, and I saw with a shock that the Greek hero wore a clerical collar. “A clergyman,” I exclaimed.
“That accounts for the fascination of the ladies,” said Emerson with a curling lip. “All weak-minded females dote on weedy curates. One of your colleagues, Sayce?”
The reverend looked up. A frown wrinkled his brow. “No,” he said, rather curtly.
“He is an American,” Wilberforce explained. “A member of one of those curious sects that proliferate in my great country. I believe they call themselves the Brethren of the Holy Jerusalem.”
“And the—er—lady?” I inquired.
“I cannot imagine why you are interested in these persons,” Emerson grumbled. “If there is anything more tedious than a pious hypocrite of a preacher, it is an empty-headed fashionable woman. I am thankful I have nothing to do with such people.”
It was Mr. Wilberforce to whom I had addressed my inquiry, and as I expected he was able to satisfy my curiosity. “She is the Baroness von Hohensteinbauergrunewald. A Bavarian family, related to the Wittelsbachs, and almost as wealthy as that royal house.”
“Ha,” Emerson cried. “The young man is a fortune hunter. I knew it. A weedy, sanctimonious fortune hunter.”
“Oh, do be quiet, Emerson,” I said. “Are they engaged? She seems very friendly with the young man.”
“I hardly think so,” said Wilberforce, smothering a smile. “The baroness is a widow, but the disparity of their ages, to mention only one incongruity…And to call the young man a fortune hunter is unjust. All who know him