Seeing a Large Cat (12 page)

"I still cannot understand why you didn't tell your mother you intended to call on Mrs. Fraser," David said. "She is a friend of the family, is she not? "

Ramses's lips set in an expression his friend had come to know well. "It was I whom Mrs. Fraser addressed in that first letter. She reminded me of a promise I once made. A gentleman responds in person to a lady's request; he does not allow his 'mama' to do it for him."

"Ah," said David.

Ramses's haughty pose relaxed and he went on in the rapid idiomatic Arabic that came as easily to him as to David, whose first language it had been. "You of all people should understand. How is it for you, to be treated like a child by my mother and my aunt-you, who have done a man's work and borne a man's responsibilities? "

"They care for me," David said simply. "No one had cared before."

Ramses was not unmoved, but exasperation won out over sentimentality. "I care for them too. I love my mother, but if she had known of my intentions, she would have insisted I allow her to deal with the matter. You know how she is, David; there is no woman on earth I admire more, but she can be an extremely..." The Arabic word that followed made David stiffen with shocked reproach until he realized it had not referred to Ramses's mother.

Ramses made an abortive movement toward a large potted plant, but stopped himself. It was too late. The Bellinghams, on their way from the lift to the dining salon, had seen them.

Dolly was dressed as if for a grand ball, in a pale blue satin frock and ornaments of sapphires and diamonds. Blue ribbons twined through the silvery masses of her hair. Her gloved hand rested on the arm of her father, who wore evening dress and carried a gold-headed stick. The third member of the group was unfamiliar-a woman, gray-haired and plainly dressed. She had, Ramses thought sympathetically, a rather hunted expression.

Leaving the unknown woman standing alone in the middle of the lobby, the Colonel led his daughter toward Ramses and David.

"Good evening," he said, bowing to the former.

"Good evening," Ramses said, frowning.

Bellingham glanced at the girl who clung to his arm. "Dolly told me what happened that night in Cairo. I confess I was angry with you for persuading her to go into the gardens with you, but she made me realize that your unusual upbringing was largely responsible for your failure to understand the reverence with which a flower of Southern womanhood should be treated."

Ramses turned an outraged stare on Dolly. She had opened her lace-trimmed fan; raising it so that it hid her mouth, she met his gaze with wide, innocent eyes.

"And," the Colonel continued, "the courage with which you fought in her defense must go far to excuse your unwitting offense."

"Thank you," said Ramses in a strangled voice.

"Not at all. We are about to go in to dinner. Perhaps you will do us the honor of joining us? "

"I fear we must plead a previous engagement," said Ramses.

The Colonel nodded and withdrew his arm from his daughter's. "Go along with Mrs. Maplethorpe, child. I will join you in a moment."

"Yes, Papa. Good night, Mr. Emerson. I hope I may have the opportunity to express my appreciation more eloquently on a future occasion." She offered her gloved hand-to be kissed, he supposed, to judge from its position. He was spared that exercise; her fan fell to the floor, and he bent to pick it up. When he handed it to her, he got something in return. Automatically his fingers closed over the small square of folded paper, and Dolly turned away.

The woman moved timidly to meet her. Dolly did not pause or acknowledge her existence by a word or a glance; head high, she glided gracefully toward the dining salon, with the other woman trailing after her like a well-trained dog.

"Is she a governess or a guard? " Ramses inquired. "Or a slave? "

Irony was wasted on Colonel Bellingham. "She is not an effective guard, but she was the best I could find-an Englishwoman who teaches in a girls 'school in Cairo. She is a lady, at least, and she knows she must never let Dolly out of her sight. Your father did not believe me when I told him Dolly was in danger. Perhaps now he has had cause to alter his opinion."

"No doubt he has." Ramses's hand went to his cheek. Most of the abrasions had healed, but the marks were still visible. "However, sin his opinion as to his responsibility in the matter remains unaltered. To put it as bluntly as he would-what the devil has your daughter to do with us? "

"One would have supposed the safety of a young lady would concern any gentleman."

"If I happen to be in the vicinity when next she is attacked, I will do the proper thing," Ramses said. "You are not suggesting, I hope, that I take on the role of bodyguard? Even an upbringing as-er-unusual as mine would view that arrangement as improper."

The Colonel's gloved hand tightened on his stick. "You are impertinent, sir!"

"My mother would be distressed to hear it," said Ramses. "Now, if you will excuse us-that previous appointment I mentioned."

Bellingham turned on his heel and marched off.

"You were very rude," David said admiringly.

"I hope so." Ramses let out his breath. "He ignored you as if you were a piece of furniture and had the effrontery to criticize my mother for bringing me up badly! As for his daughter..."

"She is very pretty."

"Like a poisonous flower. The little witch lied to her father, put the blame on me, and expected me to back her up!" He unfolded the slip of paper.

"What is that? " David asked.

"A request, I suppose you might call it. 'Meet me in the garden at midnight.' She has a penchant for dark gardens, doesn't she? "

"Are you going to meet her? "

"Good God, no!" He crumpled the note and put it in his pocket. "She's got me in enough trouble already. I wonder how she plans to elude her watchdog? I don't doubt she can manage it, though."

"How did she manage the note, do you suppose?" David asked interestedly. "She could not have anticipated you would be here."

"No doubt she carries one with her all the time, on the chance of running into a victim. Any victim." Ramses took out his watch. "I wonder what is keeping Mrs. Fraser? I want to be out of here before-"

She came so quickly and silently that he did not observe her until she put her hand on his. "Is that the same watch I gave you all those years ago? "she asked softly. "I am flattered, Ramses, dear, that you carry it in preference to any another."

He had composed a dignified little speech in response to the greeting he had expected from her. This was not the one he had expected. She didn't look the way he had expected either. Her frock of rosy pink framed her white shoulders and fell in soft folds to the floor, and her face was becomingly flushed.

"Er-yes. I mean to say-a gift from a friend, however undeserved, is of course..." He gave up the attempt to frame a graceful compliment and returned to his prepared speech. "I hope I was not mistaken when I believed you wished to speak with me?"

"You were not mistaken." She gestured toward a table half hidden by potted plants. "Witt you sit down? I have much to tell you."

"You don't mind David, do you? " Ramses said, holding a chair for her. "He is my best friend and completely trustworthy."

He rather thought she did mind, but she had better manners than Bellingham; forcing a smile, she shook hands with David and motioned him to join them. Glancing frequently over her shoulder as if she feared interruption, she told him the story he later related to his mother.

"What am I to do? " she asked despairingly. "He is completely in her power; he listens only to her and obeys her every whim. I fear for his sanity, Ramses. They are at it every night-" Her voice broke. She raised a handkerchief to her face.

"At it? " Ramses repeated involuntarily.

"Table turning," Enid said. "Communicating with that- that damned dead woman!"

Ramses blinked. "But, Mrs. Fraser-"

"Please call me Enid. It is impossible for me to think of you as Mr. Emerson, and I can't address you as Ramses unless you use my first name."

"Well, er-thank you. What I was about to say was that-if you will forgive me-you sound almost as if you had come to believe in her yourself."

"I suppose it did sound that way," Enid admitted. "One doesn't curse a fantasy, does one? She is real enough to him, though; so real she has stolen him from me, heart, soul, and. .." She covered her face with her hands, but not before he had seen a rush of hot blood stain her cheeks.

He had a horrible feeling he was blushing too. Could she possibly mean . . . Surely not. No lady would mention such a delicate subject. Thoroughly ashamed of his evil thoughts- which had, regrettably, increased of late-he cleared his throat.

"Mrs. Fraser-Enid, then, if you permit-you ought to discuss this with my parents. My mother has little patience with spiritualists and my father has none at all; they have had considerable experience with such cases and can influence Mr. Fraser more effectively than I. Though of course I would like to help in any possible... er..."

Enid bent her head and fumbled in her embroidered evening bag. "That is excellent advice, Ramses. I had intended to do just that. Now I must return, before I am missed. Thank you so much."

She rose and offered him her hand. "I have done nothing," he began.

"You have listened," she murmured. "The relief of confiding in a sympathetic hearer is greater than you can imagine. We will meet again soon, I hope."

She glided away, leaving Ramses staring at the folded paper she had pressed into his hand.

David did have a sense of humor, though it was probably not of the variety his adopted aunt would approve. Ramses turned a savage glare on him. "What are you laughing at?"

"I'm not laughing," David protested. "At any rate, I'm trying not to. How do you do it? Two in one evening!"

Ramses turned and strode toward the door. By the time they reached the boat landing David deemed it safe to speak.

"I apologize," he said in English. "I should not have made a joke about the lady."

"It is not a joking matter," Ramses said repressively. "The confounded woman is draining Mr. Fraser-of his fortune, I mean. Damn it! I had not supposed the English language was so susceptible to double meanings. Mrs. Fraser is lonely and afraid, and she thinks of me as the child who once admired her. It is easier to open one's heart to a child, I suppose, but Mother will know better than I how to help her."

They climbed into the boat. The night was still; the men bent to the oars.

"You are going to tell your mother? " David inquired.

"I must." He read the note again, shook his head, and returned it to his pocket. "The account will require some revision."

"I know I ought not ask, but. . . What does it say? "

Ramses sighed. "She asked me to meet her in the garden at midnight."

David tried to control himself, but he was only human. He was grateful that it was too dark for him to see Ramses's face.

Emerson spent the entire day on his wretched tomb. At the end of the afternoon he had a set of illegible notes and I had a sick headache.

Dusty and-in my case, at least-disgruntled, we returned to the house. I took pleasure in informing Emerson that I had asked Cyrus to dinner, but he did not respond with the acrimony I had expected.

"Supper, you mean. This is my castle and I shall be as informal as I like."

"You mean you won't change?"

"Not into evening kit. It is a courtesy to Ramses," he added with a maddening grin. "His new clothes have not arrived from Cairo."

"Thank you, Father," said Ramses. "With your permission, Mother, David and I will take the horses out before supper. They have been in the stable all day and need to be exercised."

Nefret went with them. I supposed she would be after Ramses to teach her that spectacular mount and could only hope the boys would not let her do anything dangerous.

When Cyrus arrived he was riding his favorite steed, a mild-mannered mare he called Queenie. Dismounting, he tossed the reins to the grinning houseboy-who anticipated Cyrus's usual generous baksheesh-clasped our hands, and told us it was sure good to have us back.

"I ran into the kiddies on my way over here," he said, accepting a chair and a glass of whiskey. "Though I guess that's not what I should call 'em now. That boy of yours has sure shot up this past summer, and he rides like a centaur. Where'd you find those magnificent horses?"

We brought one another up-to-date on our experiences of the past months and assured one another that we had not aged a particle. Cyrus really did look well. Winters in Egypt had given his fair skin a leathery look, but the wrinkles in his face lent it character, and he had hair of the sandy shade that changes very little as it lightens to silver. Before long Emerson, who has little patience with amiable and inconsequential conversation (and who did not appreciate fulsome compliments directed at his wife), tried to turn the subject to archaeology. The attempt was a failure, for I wanted to hear about our other friends. Cyrus knew everyone in Luxor and was, as Emerson had implied, socially inclined.

"The Davis entourage is here," he said, "but I don't suppose you want to hear about them. The usual tourist crowd, including a few of your lords and ladies and honorables-you don't want to hear about them, either," he added with a knowing look at Emerson. "Oh-I did run into someone today who asked to be remembered to you. Fellow name of Bellingham."

In silence Emerson got up and refilled our glasses. "He came by to see us this afternoon," I said. "Did you meet his daughter, then?"

"Miss Dolly?" Cyrus grinned and shook his head. "Pretty as a picture and mean as a sidewinder, that little gal."

"Why, Cyrus, how cynical," I exclaimed.

"I know her type, Mrs. Amelia. Fell for a few of 'em myself, when I was younger and not so suspicious-minded. There's a certain look-" He broke off with an embarrassed cough and rose to his feet as Nefret and the boys came out of the house. They had washed and changed. Nefret wore one of the long Egyptian robes she favored for casual wear; she curled up on the sofa and the boys seated themselves on the ledge.