The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [32]
“Now, really, Mr. Vincey, can you picture Emerson appearing in public attired only in a short kilt and a beaded collar? He is a modest man. Anyhow, Thutmose was only a few inches over five feet in height.”
“He would look magnificent in armor.”
“Suits of armor are not so easily come by in the bazaar. You won’t trap me so easily, Mr. Vincey! I must be off now.”
“And I, if I am to find some fancy dress of my own.” He took the hand I had offered him; with a rueful look at the makeshift bandage around it, he raised it, bandage and all, to his lips.
Emerson claimed he had forgotten about the fancy dress ball. Then he claimed he had never agreed to attend. After being driven back from both these positions, he retreated to a third line of defense, objecting to my ensemble. It began, “If you think I am going to allow my wife to appear in such a costume …” and ended, “I wash my hands of the whole affair. Do as you like, you always do.”
In fact, I was rather pleased with my choice. I had dismissed the idea of some version of ancient Egyptian dress; there would be dozens of inappropriate variations of that, by ladies who hoped to conjure up the seductive image of Cleopatra, the only queen known to the idle tourist. I had considered Boadicea or some other prominent defender of women’s rights, but it was not so easy to put together a costume in the limited time at my disposal. What I wore was not fancy dress. It would appear as such to the conventional travelers at Shepheard’s, however, for I had determined to take the last, bold stride in my campaign of suitable working attire for archaeologically disposed ladies.
My first experiences in Egypt, pursuing mummies and climbing up and down cliffs, had convinced me that trailing skirts and tight corsets were a confounded nuisance in that ambience. For many years my working costume had consisted of pith helmet and shirtwaist, boots, and Turkish trousers, or bloomers. They had caused consternation enough when I first appeared in them, but eventually ladies adopted divided skirts and full trousers for sporting activities. They were a good deal more convenient than skirts, but they had certain disadvantages; on one memorable occasion I had been unable to defend myself from attack because I could not locate my pocket (and the revolver in it) among the voluminous folds of fabric. *
I had always envied gentlemen the abundance and accessibility of their pockets. My belt of tools—knife, waterproof container for matches and candles, canteen, notebook and pencil, among other useful objects—substituted for pockets to some extent, but the noise they made clashing together made it difficult for me to creep up on suspects unnoticed, and the sharp edges on a number of them impeded the impetuous embraces to which Emerson is prone. I did not intend to abandon my chatelaine, as I jestingly called it, but pockets, large pockets and many of them, would allow me to carry even more essentials with me.
The costume my dressmaker had produced, under my direction, was almost identical with the shooting suits gentlemen had been wearing for some years. There were pockets everywhere—inside the jacket and on its upper portion, and all over the skirts or tails of the said jacket. This object of apparel covered the torso and the adjoining area of the lower limbs. Beneath it were knickerbockers cut like a man’s (except for being somewhat fuller in the upper part) of a matching fabric. They were tucked into stout laced boots, and when I had clapped a pith helmet on my head and put my hair up under it, I felt I was the very picture of a young gentleman explorer.
Arms folded and head on one side, Emerson watched me assume this garb with an expression that left me in some doubt as to his reaction. The occasional quiver of his lips might have been amusement or repressed outrage. Pirouetting in front of the mirror, I addressed him over my shoulder.
“Well? What do you think?”
Emerson’s lips parted. “You need a mustache.”
“I have one.” I produced it from the lower left-hand pocket