Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [168]
He was so downcast, I was tempted to admit him to my confidence. However, I decided not to. Though I was fairly certain of my deductions, it would have been unkind to raise his hopes and then be forced to destroy them. Instead I offered consolation of another nature. It proved to be acceptable.
Consulting my list of Things to Be Done at breakfast, I was able to cross out several items. Sethos and Margaret had been dealt with, at least for the time being. With two such domineering personalities, further upheavals were likely, but I could not worry about that. The situation of Nadji and Suzanne was well on the way to a satisfactory conclusion, with only one more step to be taken. I am not in the habit of leaving unpleasant tasks to others, so I set out for the Castle immediately after breakfast.
Cyrus came running out to greet me. “What the dickens have you been doing?” he demanded. “You left me stuck with that old villain Portmanteau, and he’s been driving me crazy. Even Cat is fed up with him, and you know she’s not easily upset.”
“I will deal with him forthwith,” I said, brushing dust off my trousers. “Tell him I want to see him.”
He was some time in responding, and when he came into the drawing room I observed that he had been comforting himself with brandy. Katherine was with me; having learned of my arrival, she could hardly wait to complain about her unwelcome guest. “He is no gentleman, Amelia, he ignored my hints that he should go to the hotel, and his language…!”
Sir Wiliam’s appearance caused her to break off. He had abandoned any pretense of gentility. Red-faced and unkempt, he wasted no time in being offensive.
“Well, Mrs. Emerson, what have you to report? You promised me—”
“I know where they are,” I said, raising my voice over his. “They are safe and very happy.”
If the last word reached Sir William’s ears, it never penetrated as far as his brain. “Where is she? Why didn’t you fetch her here? By God, when I get hold of that girl—”
“You no longer have any authority over her,” I said. “She is a married woman.”
Katherine gasped. “Those two? Married?”
“Well, that’s nice,” Cyrus said.
Sir William’s face went from red to purple and he was gobbling like a turkey cock. I watched him with, I regret to admit, more curiosity than compassion, until his breathing became so labored that he was forced to stop talking. I shoved him into a chair.
“I would recommend brandy but for the fact that you appear to have taken too much already. I would take you to see Suzanne but for the fact that you would only abuse her and her husband. The die is cast, Sir William, and you can’t do a cursed thing about it. Your only recourse is to get yourself out of this house, across the river, and on to Cairo as expeditiously as possible. Perhaps (it does not seem likely, but all things are possible), perhaps in time you will come to your senses and attempt to reestablish friendly relations with your granddaughter.”
“Never!” Sir William wheezed. “No kin of mine. Out of my will. Not a penny!”
“I will have the servants pack his bags,” Katherine said. She hurried out.
“And I,” said Cyrus, his eyes twinkling, “beg to differ with you, Amelia. A little more brandy, or perhaps a great deal of brandy, is just what he needs.”
With the departure of our dear ones imminent, we found ourselves in a whirl of social activity. Selim and Daoud put on a splendid fantasia, and we celebrated New Year’s Eve in the American style, with a glittering ball at the Castle. Cyrus had brought a musical ensemble all the way from Cairo. After a vigorous waltz with Emerson I needed to catch my breath, so I joined Katherine at one of the tables. She gave a guilty start when she saw me, and then burst out laughing.
“Caught in the act,” she said, indicating her heaped plate. “But on the whole I have been good, Amelia.”
“An occasional indulgence never hurt anyone,” I said. “You do seem much stronger and healthier, Katherine.”
“And wiser, I hope. Cyrus tells me this