Lady of Heaven (6 page)

“Can you read
any of the hieroglyphics?” she asked softly.

Having gradually
bent himself over in his quest to read down the sides of the sarcophagus, he
straightened out his big frame and nodded his head.

“All of them so
far,” he told her, touching a portion of the gold foil on the face mask that
seemed to be pulling up from the wood beneath. “They’re spells from the Book of
the Two Ways.  Most, if not all, Middle Kingdom sarcophagi will have spells
written on them to make the deceased’s passage into the Netherworld seamless.
In fact, it was a fairly common theme throughout Egyptian history.”

“Is there a name
for who’s inside this thing?”

He nodded
slowly, peering at the cartouche at the base of the neck.  “Yes,” he
scrutinized the symbols for a few moments before speaking. “Hetep-Anhk-Sheri;
She who is Beloved, Favored of the Gods, The One who does Right.”

Morgan’s eyes
widened.  “That’s
so
cool,” she declared, looking at the ancient
drawings as if she could read them, too. “What else does it say?”

He tilted his
head again so he could read down the sides. “Words spoken by him whose name
remains hidden; proceed in peace as the Lord of the Limit speaks’,” he looked
at her. “I could go on for hours; there’s a whole litany of spells. I’ve just
never seen them so intact before on a sarcophagus.”

She nodded
faintly, her gaze moving over the sarcophagus before coming to rest on his
handsome face again. “Do you think the museum would be interested in buying
this?”

He stood up
straight, hands on his slender hips. “Hell, yes,” he said firmly. “We’d need to
get it authenticated and valued, but I’d say this would be a huge score for the
museum. It’s magnificent.”

“How much do you
think it’s worth?”

He shrugged.
“Enough to run Heaven’s Gate quite comfortably for a few years. Millions, at least.”

Her surprise was
evident. “Really?” she gaped. “That’s great. At least, it’s a start.”

He looked at
her. “What do you mean?”

She wriggled her
eyebrows. “Louis left a huge amount of debt along with the legacy.  There are
so many overdue bills, I don’t even know where to start. Hospitals, lawyers;
you name it.  I’m not even interested in keeping Heaven’s Gate at this point;
we just want to pay off everyone Louis owed money to.”

Fox could see
that the idea distressed her.  “So you’re going to sell the manor?”

She shrugged. “I
don’t know; maybe. My grandfather is the heir, as Louis and Fanny’s only child,
and he’s in ill health right now. He doesn’t want to sell the home where he was
born but he can’t keep it, either. He can’t afford it.”

“Where does he live
now?”

“Los Angeles,
with my mom and dad. They take care of both of my grandparents.  When Louis
died, we all drew straws to see who was going to come and settle the estate; my
mom and I lost, so I took a month off of work to come out here to help take
care of things. But we didn’t know how bad ‘things’ were until we got here.
Now… I just don’t know. I suppose it’ll really be up to my dad because he’s
ultimately the heir to all of this.  He needs to make the final decision about
what to do because this is all such a huge mess.”

Fox drew in a
long breath, his gaze moving over the library and spying more pieces that
belonged in a museum.  He could only imagine what more there was that he hadn’t
seen yet.

“Well,” he
finally said. “It looks like your family has quite a collection. Maybe there’s
enough to settle the bills and keep the estate going when all is said and
done.”

She looked over
the room, too. “Maybe,” she shrugged. Then she looked up at him. “Thanks a lot
for taking a look at this. I really appreciate it. I’ve had a lot to deal with
over the past few weeks and your assessment of the sarcophagus really helps.”

He smiled at
her, her sweet little doll-like face and big brown eyes.  “Good,” he said
softly. “Now, do you want to show me that papyrus that you were so fired up
about?”

She flashed her
dimples, nodding her head and heading off into the main part of the library. 
“Sure,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was following her.
“It’s right here on the table.  I have the journal here, too.”

There was a
massive table in the center of the library, dusty, with neat stacks of books on
it.  It was a heavy piece of furniture, dark with age and use, and Fox took a
seat next to Morgan at the end of the table.  Behind them, an enormous floor to
ceiling window displayed a view across the yard towards the east wing of the
manse.  When lightning lit up the sky, it was an eerie view.

The artwork
briefcase that Morgan had brought to the museum was on the table in front of
them with the journal next to it. 

“What do you
want to see first?” Morgan asked. “The journal or the papyrus?”

He eyed both
items before his gaze inexplicably moved to the sarcophagus across the room. 
He pondered her question.

“Let me see the
papyrus,” he finally said. “If it’s anything like that sarcophagus, then we may
have another stunning discovery on our hands.”

“All I care
about is if it helps me find out what happened to Fanny.”

He smiled
faintly at her, the dark eyes glittering, as he opened up the artwork briefcase
and went to work.

November 15,
1922

            We
were able to take a ferry ride down the Nile today. What a big river! I would
compare it to the Thames but there is no comparison... the blue of the Nile is
like no other shade of blue in the world. There is something mesmerizing and
other-worldly about it.  Dear Louis does not seem to notice my adoration of the
river as my love for Egypt grows.

            ~FS

CHAPTER FOUR

“Isis, Lady of
Heaven, Favored of The Gods, may she be given eternal life by the Gods whom
love her. May she find peace within….”

Morgan heard the
soft drone of Fox’s voice, like a warm and languid dream, before gradually
becoming aware that she had been sleeping. Her head suddenly shot up from the
table where she had laid it down, just for a moment, to rest as Fox poured over
the papyrus.  She wanted to remain quiet while he did his work, apparently not
realizing how exhausted she was, and promptly passed out.  The wine at dinner
hadn’t helped matters. Wine always made her sleepy.

As soon as her
head came up and her eyes popped open, Fox turned to look at her with a grin on
his face.  He put a big hand on her head.

“Go back to
sleep, Sleeping Beauty,” he gently pushed her head back down. “I’m not going to
be done with this for awhile.”

She let him push
her head back down, but her eyes remained open, looking at him. “I’m so sorry,”
she said sleepily. “I didn’t realize I was so tired.”

He continued to
grin at her, pulling the reading glasses off his nose and setting them to the
table. “My suggestion would be that you go to bed,” he said. “I’ll still
probably be here in the morning.”

Her head came
up, shaking it vigorously even though she was yawning. “No way,” she said
firmly. “I’m staying right here until you figure out the great mysteries of
life.”

He stood up,
bent over, and scooped her right up from the chair.  Morgan was so petite
compared to his enormous size that it had been no effort at all on his part. 

“That’s not
going to happen in the next hour,” he told her. “To bed with you. Where is your
bedroom?”

Morgan threw her
arms around his thick neck for support, realizing almost too late that it was a
very intimate position.  She was sleepy, a little liquored up, and extremely
attracted to the man. It would have been so easy to….

“I’m not going
to tell you,” she said flatly. “I want to stay here.”

“Don’t argue
with me. Where is your bedroom?”

She lifted her
eyebrows at him, enjoying his close proximity and struggling to stay on task.

“Uh-uh,” she
shook her head. “I’m staying here.”

“I told you not to
argue.”

“Put me down or you’ll be sorry.”
Fox’s grin grew. “Really?” he said. “I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”

Morgan giggled at him. Then she
arched her neck, peering over his big shoulder. “Put me on

the couch over there,” she told him. “I’ll compromise. I’ll
lie on the couch if you’ll let me stay here.”

He swung her
around, heading for the couch, and then gently set her down on it.  “Now, lay
down or I’ll sit on you.”

She scrunched
her nose up at him. “I wouldn’t if I were you. I bite.”

He cocked an eyebrow,
biting his lip to keep from laughing. “If you’re trying to scare me, it isn’t
working. You’re only succeeding in enticing me further.”

Her brow
furrowed, but she was smiling. “
Further
?”

He winked at her
and turned back for the table.  Morgan almost demanded that he clarify his
gentle flirt but she thought better of it. Something heated and thrilling was
developing between them and she wanted to keep her head. She was all for a
fling, but there was something about Fox that went beyond a casual date or
sweet flirt.  She wasn’t sure what it was yet, but she knew she hadn’t felt
such emotions in years.  It was frightening and exciting at the same time.

She lay down on
the couch, rolling on to her side to watch him.  Fox sat back down and put his
glasses back on.

“I heard you
saying something earlier,” she said. “What were you saying?”

He cleared his
throat softly as he picked up a pencil and began to jot notes on the pad on the
table.  He was left-handed and his big hand folded over the paper, writing upside-down.

“I was reading
the first line of the papyrus,” he told her. “’Isis, Lady of Heaven, Favored of
The Gods, may she be given eternal life by the Gods whom love her. May she find
peace within….’ That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”

Morgan looked thoughtful.
“So Isis is mentioned in the papyrus,” she murmured, more to herself. “Fanny’s
journal says the same thing.”

“It’s not
unusual,” he told her, looking back to the ancient scroll in front of him.
“Isis is a fairly common theme throughout Egypt, in any setting; life, death,
birth, sickness.  She’s kind of the catch-all goddess to pray to.”

Morgan thought
on that for a moment. “Oh,” she could feel her eyes droopy again and yawned.
“Let me ask you something, Dr. Henredon; do you think that the Egyptian gods
were just made-up deities or do you think that at one time, long ago, they were
real people, maybe the first real Egyptians, and just became deified over the
centuries?”

He stopped what
he was doing and looked at her. “The same question could be asked about Jesus. Was
he a figment of overactive imaginations or was he a real person who simply
became deified over the centuries?”

“I think he was
a real person,” Morgan answered. “But I’m not sure if I believe he was the son
of God. Maybe he was just a really charismatic rabbi.”

He smiled
faintly. “It’s possible,” he said. “But if you said that to my mum, she’d have
you boiled in oil.”

Morgan grinned.
“I would never say that to your mother,” she said, then paused. “Or my mother
for that matter. She would spank me.”

Fox chuckled,
turning back to the papyrus. “It’s my personal opinion that Osiris and Isis and
Seth and all the rest of them are probably made-up deities,” he said. “No hard
evidence that they were actual people exists. And if evidence did exist, it
disappeared long ago.”

“Kind of
cynical, aren’t you?”

He continued to
smile, wriggling his eyebrows as he refocused on the papyrus. “Maybe.”

She watched him
go back to work, studying the shape of his nose, the square cut of his face. He
had amazingly smooth skin, the typical English rose complexion, and even though
his black hair was neatly slicked back with gel, the ends of the hair suggested
there was a wave to it. All in all, she couldn’t see anything about the man
that was imperfect.  As she continued to watch him, lost in thought, Laura
entered the library with two steaming cups in her hand.

“I thought you
might like some tea,” she went straight for Fox as Morgan sat up from the
couch.  As she set the cups down, she noticed the papyrus, the journal, pencils
and a writing pad, and she frowned. “My daughter isn’t forcing you to decipher
this now, is she?”

Morgan walked
over to the table, collecting her cup. “I am not,” she insisted, looking at
Fox. “He wanted to. He begged me.”

Fox’s chuckles
returned. “Yes, I did. I begged.”

Laura shook her
head, eyeing her daughter. “Morgan….”

“Really, Mom,”
she insisted, putting her arm around Fox’s massive shoulders, laying her cheek
on the top of his head and smiling like the Cheshire Cat with her massive
dimples. “He begged me. He told me he wouldn’t leave until I let him.”