Theodosia and the Staff of Osiris-Theo 2 (2 page)

Father stiffened, and Mother raised her nose into the air. "I'm afraid not," she said. "The burglar got clean away."

That
was a subject I wouldn't mind avoiding for a while longer. Say, a lifetime. My parents had no idea that I had been the one to return the Heart of Egypt to it's proper resting place in the Valley of the Kings. It had been the only way to nullify the dreadful curse the artifact had been infected with. Of course, I'd had a bit of help from Wigmere and his Brotherhood of the Chosen Keepers. But my parents didn't know that, either.

"What was all that rot you fed me about having it cleaned, then?" Snowthorpe demanded.

"We..." Father turned to Mother with a desperate look on his face. She stared back, fumbling for something to say.

They couldn't have looked more guilty if they tried, so I spoke up. "The authorities had asked us to keep quiet until they made a few inquiries. They didn't want the perpetrators to catch wind of how much they knew or who they suspected."

Four pairs of eyes looked down at me in surprise.

"Isn't that what they said, Father?" I prompted.

"Yes," he said, recovering nicely. "Exactly what they said."

Wigmere's mustache twitched. "Do introduce me to this charming young lady, Throckmorton."

As if we needed any introduction! We'd only worked closely together on averting one of the worst crises ever to reach British soil.

"Forgive me. Lord Wigmere, this is my daughter, Theodosia Throckmorton. Theodosia, this is Lord Wigmere, head of the Antiquarian Society."

I gave a proper curtsy. "I'm very pleased to meet you, sir."

"And I you."

Before Snowthorpe could begin jawing on again about the Heart of Egypt, I decided to raise my concerns. "Have you heard what Lord Chudleigh's planning for this evening?"

I felt Father scowl at me, but I did my best to ignore him, which was rather difficult when his heated gaze threatened to burn a hole through my skull.

Snowthorpe brightened. "You mean the mummy unwrapping?"

"Yes, but don't you think it's wrong to do it as ... entertainment?"

Snowthorpe dismissed my words with a wave of his hand. "Gad no! It's good for business, that. People love mummies, and whenever their interest goes up, so do museum ticket sales."

"But isn't it desecration?"

The pleasant expression left Snowthorpe's face and he looked down at me, almost as if seeing me for the first time. "You sound just like Wigmere here. He'd have us ship all our artifacts back to Egypt if he had his way."

Well, certainly the cursed ones, anyway. I sent a beseeching look in Wigmere's direction, but he shook his head sympathetically. "I already tried and got nowhere. Chudleigh's too intent on having his fun."

Disappointment spiked through me. I looked over my shoulder. The crowd had broken up a bit. I caught a glimpse of a table with guests clustered around it, but I still couldn't see the mummy itself.

Really, this fete of theirs was no fun at all. Not what I thought of as a proper party. I caught yet another old codger staring at me and realized that such scrutiny had made me beastly thirsty. I suddenly craved a glass of lemon smash or cold ginger beer. As I searched the crowd for the man with the refreshment tray, yet another old lady examined me through her opera glasses. I wrinkled my nose. Didn't these people realize how rude that was?

The woman dropped her glasses, and I was dismayed to find myself staring into the shocked face of Grandmother Throckmorton! I quickly turned away, pretending I hadn't seen her.

Seconds later, a very stiff-looking footman appeared at
Father's side. "Madam wishes me to request you attend her immediately."

"What?" he asked, then caught sight of his mother. "Oh yes, of course!" He bid goodbye to Wigmere and Snowthorpe, then herded us over to where Grandmother was conversing with a rather short, barrel-shaped man.

When we reached her, she offered up her cheek to Father for a kiss. He did so (grudgingly, I'm sure), and then she turned to Mother and inclined her head slightly. "Henrietta."

"Madam." Mother nodded back.

Grandmother ignored me completely. She still wasn't speaking to me for having run away while under her care. Even so, I wanted to prove I could be polite even if she couldn't and gave my very best curtsy. "How do you do, Grandmother? It's very good to see you again."

Grandmother sniffed in disapproval, then asked Father, "What is she doing here?"

"Now, Mother. She did make a rather remarkable find, locating that secondary annex to Amenemhab's tomb. Lord Chudleigh suggested we bring her along to celebrate her first find for the museum."

"This is no place for children and her schedule is already far too irregular. If you cannot see to her proper upbringing, then perhaps I shall take her to hand." Grandmother studied me for a long moment before continuing. "Have you had any luck in locating a new governess for her?"

Mother and Father exchanged guilty glances. I could tell they'd forgotten all about it. "Not yet. But we'll keep looking." Mother missed the look of scorn Grandmother sent her way, but I didn't. I narrowed my eyes and glared at the old bat.

Except she was so busy ignoring me, she missed it and turned to the man standing beside her. I was left to stew on the idea of Grandmother overseeing my upbringing. I was torn between horror at the thought and fury at her treatment of Mother.

"Alistair, I'd like you to meet Admiral Sopcoate."

Admiral Sopcoate had a jolly face. He was quick to catch my eye, then smiled. I liked him immediately.

Admiral Sopcoate shook Father's hand. "What is it you do, again, Throckmorton?"

Father opened his mouth to respond, but Grandmother talked over him. "He's the Head Curator of the Museum of Legends and Antiquities."

When Grandmother said nothing more, Father quickly stepped in. "And this is my wife, Henrietta. She's the museum's archaeologist and brings us a number of our most spectacular finds."

Grandmother sniffed.

"And this is my daughter, Theodosia," Father continued.

Admiral Sopcoate reached out and took my hand. (No head patting or hand kissing here! I knew I liked him for a good reason.) "Pleased to meet you, my dear."

"And I you, sir." Still determined to be on my best behavior, I added, "Perhaps you'd like to come by and see our museum someday? We'd be happy to give you a tour."

Grandmother's eyes flared in irritation. She fixed me with a gaze that clearly said,
Do not dare speak again in my presence,
then turned back to the admiral. "We were just discussing Admiral Sopcoate's newest addition to the home fleet, the
Dreadnought.
"

"Yes! Have you seen her yet, Throckmorton?" Sopcoate asked.

"I can't say as I have," Father said. "Although I've read a bit about it in the paper."

"The
Dreadnought
is the newest crown jewel in Her Majesty's fleet," Sopcoate explained. "Makes every other battleship in the world obsolete."

"If you ask me," Grandmother butted in, "we can't have enough battleships. Not with Germany's determination to become the world's greatest naval power."

"Now, now, Lavinia," Admiral Sopcoate reassured her.
"The British Navy is twice as strong as the next two navies combined."

Lavinia! He'd called her by her Christian name! I'd forgotten she even had one.

"Not if Germany has it's way," she answered darkly. "They are determined to challenge our naval supremacy."

"Don't worry." Sopcoate gave a jolly wink. "Once those Germans see the
Dreadnought,
they'll put aside their misguided ideas of naval equality with England."

"But isn't that rather like baiting a bear?" Father asked. "How do you know they won't come out swinging, determined to build even more battleships of their own?"

Couldn't grownups talk of anything besides politics and war? I knew that the Germans and the British were on the outs with each other, but if you asked me—although no one did—that was mostly the fault of the Serpents of Chaos. They were a secret organization dedicated to bringing about disorder and strife in their quest to dominate the world. Specifically, they wanted Germany and Britain at each other's throat. They wanted instability and utter chaos so they could move in and seize power. However, now that Wigmere and I had foiled their plans, this whole war-cry nonsense would surely die down.

Luckily, before the adults could go on too long, we were
interrupted by a faint clinking sound. Lord Chudleigh was striking his champagne glass with a tiny fork. "Time has come, everyone. Gather round. Here's your chance to see a mummy unwrapped, the unveiling of the secrets of the Egyptians."

An excited murmur ran through the crowd, and everyone shuffled over to the table on which the mummy lay. I tugged on Father's hand. "Do I have to watch, Father? Can't I wait over there?"

He patted my shoulder. "There's nothing to be afraid of, you know."

Of course I knew that!
That
wasn't the issue. It just seemed wrong to be unwrapping the poor mummy in front of all these gawking visitors who didn't give a fig about ancient Egypt or the scholarly pursuit of Egyptian burial practices.

As we drew closer, I made a point of hanging back behind Mother and Father, but then Admiral Sopcoate stepped aside. "Here, young lady. Come stand in front of me so you can see better. You don't want to miss this!"

Of course, he was just being kind. I opened my mouth to say, "No thank you," but caught Grandmother's eye. The warning glint told me that refusing wasn't an option. Biting back a sigh, I stepped forward and found myself in the front row, merely three feet away from the mummy on the table.

"This unidentified mummy was found inside the newly discovered tomb of Amenemhab," Chudleigh went on. "We're hoping that by unwrapping him tonight, we will learn more about who he was, as well as insights into the mystery of mummification. Are you ready?"

A wave of assent rose up from the gathering.

"Throckmorton, Snowthorpe, would you do the honors, please?"

Father blinked in surprise. He quickly hid the look of distaste that spread across his face and stepped dutifully forward.

"Let's start from the feet, shall we?" Snowthorpe suggested.

I thought about closing my eyes, then wondered if Grandmother Throckmorton would be able to tell. Testing the theory, I screwed my eyes shut—just for the merest of seconds. Immediately there was a sharp poke in my shoulder blade and a disapproving sniff.

I opened my eyes and thought briefly of handing her a handkerchief. Honestly! I didn't see how it was rude to close one's eyes but perfectly all right to sniff constantly, like one of those pigs that can root out truffles.

I turned my attention back to the front, but looked steadfastly at Father instead of the mummy.

It takes a surprisingly long time to unwrap a mummy. To entertain his guests, Lord Chudleigh jawed on about mummy legends and curses—the most sensational rubbish he could find, and most of it not even close to the truth. When he got to the part about how they used to grind up mummies to be ingested for their magical properties—that part true, unfortunately—I was so utterly revolted that I blurted out, "You're not going to grind this one up, are you?"

There was a long moment of silence in which everyone chose to stare at me, and I suddenly remembered my promise to do nothing to call attention to myself.

Chudleigh gave a false laugh. "No, no. Of course not. This one will become a part of my own personal collection."

"Oh. I beg your pardon," I said, vowing to keep my mouth shut from now on.

At last Father and Snowthorpe came to the mummy's head. I studiously kept my eyes glued to Father's face. When the last bandage was lifted away, the crowd gasped in delighted horror.

I will not look, I will not look,
I told myself. But sometimes the more you concentrate on
not
doing something, the more drawn you are to doing it. In the end, my curiosity got the better of me and I looked.

"Behold—the unknown priest of Amenemhab!" Lord Chudleigh called out.

A smattering of applause ran through the crowd. Unable to help myself, I stepped forward, my eyes fixed on the mummy's face.

It was a face I had seen only a few short months ago, when I'd been forced to confront three of the Serpents of Chaos in Thutmose III's tomb. Their leader's words rang in my ears.
That is twice he's failed me. There shall not be a third time.

"Oh no, Lord Chudleigh." The words bubbled out before I could stop them. "That isn't an unknown priest of the Middle Dynasty. That's Mr. Tetley. From the British Museum."

T
HE CROWD ERUPTED INTO SHOCKED EXCLAMATIONS
. Father looked at me strangely. "You know Tetley?"

"What on earth are you talking about?" Chudleigh asked.

Behind me, I heard Grandmother declare, "She's gone too far this time." Just as her clawlike hand reached for me, I took three giant steps forward, answering the least dicey question first.

"I'm trying to explain that this isn't a mummy from ancient Egypt, but a very recent fake."

A look of indignation passed over Chudleigh's face, which he tried unsuccessfully to cover up with a jolly bluster.
"Now, now. What could a young girl possibly know about mummies, eh? Not much, I'd wager."

"Well, you'd be wrong, sir." Grandmother's gasp of shock made me realize that I had sounded rude, although I was just trying to point out that I most certainly did know things about mummies. "See how there aren't any amulets among the bandages? Most unusual. And look here. He's not wearing a linen tunic or skirt or even a loincloth. He's wearing ... a combination suit." I felt myself blush and heard a commotion behind me. A voice called out, "Get me some smelling salts!"

I glanced over my shoulder to find Admiral Sopcoate dragging Grandmother Throckmorton over to a settee. I gulped and turned back to face Father and Lord Chudleigh.

Chudleigh's face was quite red. "Now, see here..."

Father tugged at his collar. "I'm afraid she does point out some very legitimate irregularities, sir."