Tomb of the Golden Bird by Elizabeth Peters Page B

Jumana, the other member of Cyrus's staff, but the girl hopped lithely out without giving him so much as a glance of thanks. A typical Egyptian beauty with melting dark eyes and delicate features, she was as ambitious as she was attractive. Bertie had been in love with her for years, but had not succeeded in winning her heart. "Good to have you back," Emerson declared, wringing Cyrus's hand. "Good to be back," said Cyrus, drawing a deep breath. "What have you been up to? Any fresh corpses, Amelia?" "You will have your little joke, Cyrus. We don't have a murder every season." "Name one," Cyrus countered with a grin. "There have been a few odd occurrences—" "Never mind," said Emerson sharply. I declined Katherine's invitation to a late luncheon, wishing to give our friends time to rest after the long dusty train ride. "We will see you this evening, if you feel up to it," I proposed. Emerson cleared his throat. "We are dining with Carter tonight, Peabody." "Howard?" I turned to stare at him. "I didn't know he was in Luxor." "Got in yesterday," Emerson said, looking off into the distance and shuffling his feet. "I was unaware of that. He asked us to dine this evening?" "Yes. Most kind. I accepted, of course." Emerson added hastily, "Subject to your approval, my dear." "That's all right," Cyrus said, with a concerned look at his wife, who was leaning on his arm. "Cat could do with a day of rest. We'll see you tomorrow." We escorted the Vandergelts to their carriage and waved them off. Emerson disdains any form of transport (except the motorcar), so we set off on foot toward the dock. The weather was cooler and the sky a trifle overcast. I regretted having assumed a proper morning frock instead of my comfortable trousers and coat. The styles of that year were lighter and less cumbersome than the garments of my youth, with their trailing skirts and awkward bustles, but my shoes pinched and the heels were too high for easy walking. However, I do not allow discomfort to distract me and I at once began to query Emerson. "How is it that you were aware of Howard's arrival before I learned of it? Why didn't you tell me he had asked us to dine?" "I just did," said Emerson. "Take my arm, my dear, those shoes are really not suitable for such rough surfaces. I like your frock, though. New, is it?" It was, but Emerson would have said the same about any garment I assumed, since he never paid the least attention to what I was wearing. Before I could pursue my questioning, he turned his head and addressed a remark to Nefret, who was walking behind us arm in arm with Ramses. "You are both included in the invitation. Carter was particularly insistent that you join us, Nefret. I believe he still admires you. In a perfectly gentlemanly manner, of course." Nefret laughed. "Howard is a perfect gentleman, despite what certain British snobs say about him. I've heard that he has become attached to another lady, though." "You refer to Lord Carnarvon's daughter, Lady Evelyn Herbert, I presume," I said. "From what I have heard, the attachment is rather more on her part. However, I never indulge in vulgar gossip of that nature." Howard's house, which he called Castle Carter, was at the northern end of Dra Abu'l Naga, close to the road that led into the Valley of the Kings. I sometimes wondered whether the name was an attempt to imitate Cyrus Vandergelt, whose elegant and capacious home was known to all in Luxor as "the Castle." Howard did not get on well with Cyrus, who had often outbid him for the unusual antiquities he hoped to acquire for his patron, Lord Carnarvon. Ramses suggested that Howard was rather referring to the old saying about an Englishman's home being his castle. Ramses has a more kindly nature than I. Howard had designed and built the house himself, with the financial assistance of Lord Carnarvon. The location was not attractive, being only barren ground without trees or grass, but the structure was pleasant enough, quite in the Arab style,