The Mummy Case - Elizabeth Peters [7]
Having made this pronouncement, he vanished into the corridor that led to the library.
“Ha,” I exclaimed. “Now you know, Evelyn—”
“I know.” Her arm stole round my waist. “I will never forget the day you restored me to life when I fainted in the Roman Forum. Your husband cannot spare you to nurse me, Amelia, and I assure you, there is no need. I am past the point where…That is, the dangerous period has…”
Evelyn is absurdly modest about these things. Since I consider motherhood a natural and interesting event, I see no reason for reticence. I said briskly, “Yes, the first three months were, for you, the period of risk. I conclude then that you will bear the child in December or January. Speaking of children…”
“Yes, of course. You will be eager to see Ramses.”
She spoke in a hesitating manner, avoiding my eyes. I said coolly, “Has something, happened to him?”
“No, no, of course not. At least…The truth is, he is missing.”
Before I could pursue my inquiries, Emerson came bursting into the hallway where we stood. “Missing!” he bellowed. “Peabody—Ramses has disappeared! He has not been seen since breakfast. Curse it, why are you standing there? We must search for him immediately.”
I caught hold of a marble pillar and managed to resist Emerson’s efforts to drag me toward the door.
“Calm yourself, Emerson. I have no doubt a search is under way. You can do nothing that is not already being done. In fact, you would probably lose your way, and then everyone would have to look for you. It is not unheard of for Ramses to take himself off for long periods of time; he will return when he is ready.”
The last part of this calm and reasonable speech was lost on Emerson. Finding himself unable to budge me, he released his hold and rushed out the door, leaving it open.
“There is no cause for concern,” Evelyn assured me. “As you said, Ramses has done this before.”
“Ra-a-amses!” Emerson’s voice is notable for its carrying quality. “Papa is here, Ramses—where are you? Ramses…”
I said to Evelyn, “I believe I could fancy a cup of tea.”
Tea is regarded, in these islands and elsewhere, as a restorative. It was in this light that Evelyn offered it, as she continued to reassure me as to Ramses’ safety. I was glad of the tea, for the long train ride had made me thirsty. If I had wanted a restorative, I would have asked for whiskey and soda.
As I could have predicted, it was only a few minutes later that Emerson returned, with Ramses cradled in his arms. I studied the touching tableau with disfavor. Ramses was, as usual, incredibly dirty, and Emerson’s suit had just been sponged and pressed.
Trotting behind them came the large brindled cat we had brought from Egypt on our last expedition but one. She was Ramses’ constant companion, but unfortunately few of the admirable habits of the feline species had rubbed off onto her young owner. She threw herself down on the carpet and began cleaning herself. Ramses freed himself from his father’s hold and rushed at me without so much as wiping his feet.
His small and sticky person was redolent of dog, chocolate, straw (used straw, from the stables) and stagnant water. Having embraced me, and left liberal traces of his presence on the skirt of my frock, he stood back and smiled. “Good afternoon, Mama.”
Ramses has a rather prepossessing smile. He is not otherwise a handsome child. His features are too large for his juvenile countenance, especially his nose, which promises to be as commanding as that of his ancient Egyptian namesake. His chin, which is almost as oversized in proportion to the rest of his face, has the same cleft as his father’s. I must confess that Ramses’ chin softens me. I returned his smile. “Where have you been, you naughty boy?”
“Letting de animals out of de traps,” Ramses replied. “I t’ought your train was not coming till later.”
“What is this?” I frowned. “You are lisping again, Ramses. I told you—”
“It