Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [92]
Emerson let out a resounding oath. “It’s that blackguard O’Connell! Why—why—WHY—”
“Because I want to know what he has been up to,” I replied. “He has stayed away from us, as I requested, and has published nothing scurrilous about us. That is highly suspicious.”
Emerson’s flush of wrath subsided. “And you want to see him and Miss Minton in mortal combat. Not a bad idea, Peabody.”
“Oh, I doubt she will come, Emerson. That is another reason why I asked Kevin. I want to know what she has been up to.”
I went to the door. Kevin was approaching slowly, in little fits and starts. When he saw me he came on more quickly, whipping off his hat.
“Ah, Mrs. E. Is it safe to come in?”
“Unless you’ve done something I don’t know about.” I held the door open. Catching sight of Emerson, Kevin gave him an ingratiating smile and smoothed his windblown red locks.
“I am innocent as a newborn babe, ma’am. I haven’t had a chance to be anything else,” he added despondently.
“Hmph,” said Emerson. “Well, you may as well sit down, I suppose.”
Kevin knew Emerson well enough to recognize this as a fairly genial welcome. “Thank you, sir. I kept at a distance, as Mrs. Emerson asked. May I inquire as to why she has changed her mind?”
I had given up any hope of worming my way back into Carnarvon’s favor; Mr. Callender had not called on us, nor had the Metropolitan people after that initial visit. Mrs. Breasted had never accepted my invitations, but Breasted himself had been our guest on a number of occasions. Carnarvon or Howard must have got at him too. Nothing I could do would make matters worse, and if truth be told, I had come round to Emerson’s viewpoint. I would not pander to persons I despised. The devil with them!
I did not express myself so forcibly to Kevin. Instead I contented myself with a vague reference to friendship, which brought a twinkle to Kevin’s keen blue eyes.
Next to arrive were Cyrus and his crew. I was delighted to see that Katherine was among them. I took her hands and squeezed them.
“You are looking much better, Katherine. I was worried about you.”
“I believe Egypt revives me,” Katherine declared. “Egypt and you, Amelia. You never change. Whereas I”—she smiled, her cheeks rounding—“I have become too stout and lazy. I want to consult Nefret about proper diet and exercise. But don’t offer me any of Fatima’s tea cakes, because my willpower is still low!”
Nefret came in, with Ramses in tow. “I had to drag him away from his scraps,” she announced.
“She wouldn’t give me time to change,” Ramses said, trying in vain to smooth his curly locks. “Excuse my appearance. Katherine! How good it is to see you.”
“You look very handsome, as always,” Katherine said with a fond smile. “Nefret, come and sit with me. I want your advice.”
Emerson broke off his conversation with Cyrus to demand, “Where are the kiddies?”
“In temporary detention,” Ramses replied. “Somehow they got wind of the fact that Mother had invited a number of guests, and they became so rambunctious I told them they would have to settle down before they could join us.”
I looked round for Sethos, and saw him hovering in the doorway. “She hasn’t come,” I said softly.
“Ah.” He had taken the time to change and looked quite dapper in one of Ramses’s tweed suits. The ends of his mustache had a definite curl. After greeting the others, he went to the side of the veranda that opened onto the path, and stood there looking out—making certain, I felt sure, that Margaret wouldn’t creep up on him unobserved. He was, therefore, the first to spot another of my guests. His exclamation brought me to his side.
“Did you invite him?”
“You can hardly suppose he would have ventured here without an invitation.”
Sir Malcolm was followed by his servant, who held a huge parasol over his head. Like Kevin’s, his approach was somewhat tentative, and he kept looking nervously from side to side.
As Fate would have it, at that precise moment the twins appeared, accompanied,