Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [103]
Poor David paid the penalty for his popularity, being beleaguered by demands from all sides. The twins, who had been allowed, as a special treat, to join us for luncheon, insisted that he assist them in decorating the house for Christmas. Emerson suggested a tour of the sites Lacau had offered us for the following season—all in the same afternoon—and Cyrus sent a message inviting us to dinner that evening and asking whether we intended to bring David to the West Valley after luncheon. Daoud wanted to know when David would visit Kadija and his other kin at Gurneh; and Sennia, eating with exaggerated delicacy (to show up the twins) informed us that she intended to accompany us to all the places we had mentioned. Since David was too good-natured to refuse anyone, I took it upon myself to make the decision for him.
“We are taking tea at the Winter Palace this afternoon—yes, Emerson, we are—and dining with the Vandergelts tonight—I have already accepted—so there won’t be time for much else. Sennia, I want you to rest and settle into your room; ask Fatima to iron your best frock, since you were included in Mr. Vandergelt’s invitation.”
“Me too, me too,” Charla cried.
“No, not you.”
Charla’s face turned bright red and she bared her little teeth in a shriek. “When you learn to behave like a lady, you will be allowed to join the adults,” I said, over her cries.
Charla was removed by Ramses—he was the only one except myself who could control her when she was in one of her rages—and I went with Sennia to see how Gargery was getting on. Since I had flatly refused his offer to serve at luncheon and since he would not sit down at table with us, I had had a luncheon tray sent to him. He sat hunched over it like an aging vulture and growled at me when I asked how he felt, but I noticed he had eaten everything.
I then joined the others in Ramses’s workroom, where I had instructed them to meet me. “We must settle this business of the document,” I informed them, taking the chair Sethos held for me. “I have looked it over and failed to find anything. I suggest we send it off immediately to the address Sethos was given.”
Frowning, Emerson picked up the papers. They were somewhat the worse for wear, tattered and stained (and scorched in several places where I had held them too close to the candle flame). “I can’t see any reason why we should not,” he admitted. “Sethos?”
“I see a number of reasons why we should” was the reply. “In fact, I am in favor of enclosing a conciliatory note stating that we will refrain from further action if they will do the same.”
Nefret said, “Will they take our word?”
“Possibly not,” Sethos said. “But it’s worth a try. What do you think, David?”
“I agree,” David said briefly.
“We will leave it to you, then,” I said, with a nod at my brother-in-law.
The tearoom at the Winter Palace is a spacious chamber with tall windows looking out over the famous gardens and handsomely furnished with oriental rugs and plush furniture. Ordinarily only the murmur of well-bred conversation and the muted clatter of crockery are heard. It was very crowded that afternoon, and the noise level was higher than usual.
“Not many journalists present,” I remarked to Ramses.
“They prefer the bars,” said Ramses. “Except that one.”
He indicated Margaret, who had risen and was waving to us.
She watched us approach with a somewhat derisive smile. “I am reminded of the late Queen,” she said. “A—er—petite, dignified lady, surrounded by very tall guards and accompanied by a pretty little lady-in-waiting. Consider me intimidated.”
The description did not sit well with Nefret, whose sympathy for Margaret had faded after the latter’s attack on me. Lips tight, she took the chair Ramses held for her and I took another. The small table was set for four people, and flanked by a velvet settee and two chairs. Margaret resumed her seat on the settee. “I wasn’t expecting so many,” she said with a look of mock chagrin.
“Well, we aren’t going away,” said Emerson,