The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [157]
But allow me to describe the event in proper order, as Mama would approve.
Thanks to Aunt Evelyn’s gentle intervention on my behalf, I was only restricted to my room for twenty-four hours. Once released, I found myself rather at loose ends. The boys, as you know, are at school. Nefret was reading Pride and Prejudice and was quite absorbed in what has always struck me as a rather silly story. The ladies with whom I am acquainted are not at all like the ones in the book. Little Amelia very kindly offered to play Parcheesi with me, but I was not in the mood for juvenile companionship. (Do not fear, Mama, I was very polite. I would not hurt the dear child’s feelings for the world.)
Ordinarily I would have gone to the library to pursue my researches into Egyptian grammar, but it seemed the better part of wisdom to stay out of Uncle Walter’s way for a while. I therefore proceeded to Aunt Evelyn’s sitting room, with the intention of making further inquiries (in the most tactful manner, I need not say) as to why she possessed a large black parasol.
She was not there, but Rose was tidying the room. I offered to help her with the dusting but she declined quite decidedly. She had no objection to engaging in conversation, however.
The exciting events of the last night but one were of course foremost in both our minds. I had already told Rose all about it but she asked to hear it again, so I willingly obliged. (She did not know why Aunt Evelyn had the parasol either, and refused to speculate.) The subject to which she kept returning was the reprehensible behavior of Ellis. She does not get on with Ellis, as I believe I told you. Ellis is quite a lot younger than Rose. She is thinner than Rose too, and has bright-yellow hair. I do not know what, if anything, these facts have to do with Rose not getting on with Ellis. I make note of them only as a matter of information.
“No better than she should be,” said Rose with a sniff. “I told Miss Evelyn she wouldn’t do. I know her kind.”
“What kind is that?” I inquired.
Before she could answer, supposing she had intended to, Aunt Evelyn entered. She beckoned me to join her on the sofa—which I was happy to do—and took out her embroidery. It gave me a strange feeling to see her sitting there, as neat and quiet as a lady in a painting, when I remembered the fierce warrior maiden of the other night.
“Don’t let me interrupt your conversation,” she said in her soft voice. “I know you two enjoy talking together; pray go on as if I were not here.”
“We were talking about Ellis,” I said. “Rose knows her kind. I was endeavoring to discover what kind she meant.”
Rose turned very red and began polishing the tea table vigorously.
“Rose, Rose,” said Aunt Evelyn gently. “You must not be so uncharitable.”
I do not know what it was that emboldened Rose to speak. Usually she just mumbles, “Yes, madam,” and shoves the furniture around. I can only attribute her candor on this occasion to one of those premonitions Mama and I, and apparently others, occasionally have.
She was still very red in the face but she spoke up stoutly. “Excuse me, Miss Evelyn, but I think you ought to know. She’s always sneaking and prying. I caught her coming out of Master Ramses’s room one day. She’s no business there, as you know, madam. Master Ramses’s room is my job. And what was she doing out of the house at that hour of the night, if I may ask?”
It was quite uncanny, Mama and Papa, how it struck all of us at the same moment. We gazed on one another with a wild surmise. Only it was not really wild at all. Aunt Evelyn was the first to speak.
“Master Ramses’s room, you said, Rose? What could she have wanted there?”
I struck myself on the brow. (I have read in books of people doing that, but I doubt they really do. Not more than once, at any rate.) “We can hazard a guess, can we not?”