Seeing a Large Cat (30 page)

"Mother," Ramses began.

"Say good night to Mrs. Fraser, Ramses."

"Good night, Mrs. Fraser," Ramses said.

"Good night, Ramses. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

We left the boys to spend the night on the dahabeeyah. Neither of them had had much to say during the trip back to the West Bank. David was never very loquacious, but it was almost unheard of for Ramses to remain silent so long. I assumed he must be tired, and before the rest of us mounted our donkeys I told him to go straight to bed and not sit up late working on his photographs.

"Very well, Mother. I will not work on the photographs."

"Good. Remember, we are attending the service for Mrs. Bellingham tomorrow, so wear your good suit."

I had been somewhat surprised to learn from Dr. Willoughby that there was not to be what I would call a proper funeral. The Colonel had told him he feared that a church service would attract the curious; there had been enough sensation already, and he wished only to see his wife laid quietly to rest. We were among the few who had been invited to attend the brief ceremony at the gravesite.

I had expected Emerson would complain. All he said was, "It cannot be avoided, I suppose. But don't get your hopes up, Peabody. He will not be there."

"Who?" I asked.

"The murderer. Don't deny it, Peabody, I know the way your mind works; you believe he will be lurking in the background, and that you will know him by his gloating expression."

"Oh, Emerson, what nonsense. I don't believe anything of the sort."

However, when we left the house I selected one of my sturdier parasols instead of the one that matched my lavender frock. It is well to be prepared for any eventuality, and over the years my trusty parasol had proved to be my most effective weapon. And it is, of course, very useful in shading one's face from the sun's rays.

The small British cemetery was outside the village, on the road to Karnak, and it contained the burials not only of Englishmen and -women, but of other Christians who had breathed their last in Luxor. I felt a pang of shame when I saw how neglected it was, the graves untended, the weedy ground showing the tracks of goat and donkey, jackal and pariah dog. I made a mental note to do something about it.

We had been told to be there at ten. When we arrived I saw that the Colonel's party had arrived before us and were waiting by the open grave. They made a somber group, for Dolly was wearing a black gown and the Colonel's garments were of the same funereal hue. With them was the only other mourner, aside from Dr. Willoughby and ourselves. Mr. Booghis Tucker Tollington was attired in the same striped flannel suit and straw boater, but he had replaced his pink tie with a black one, and his expression was suitably grave.

After murmured greetings had been exchanged, the Colonel indicated that we were ready to begin. The clergyman, a dark-haired, middle-aged gentleman suffering from a severe case of sunburn, was a stranger to me; when he opened his book and began to read the beautiful old Anglican service, I realized the Colonel must have requested the assistance of a visiting vicar. Evidently his religious views were too strict to allow a Baptist or Roman Catholic to preside.

Since I am familiar with the words of the service, it was not necessary for me to give my full attention to the proceedings. A little shiver ran through me as my eyes wandered (when my head was not bent in prayer) over the cemetery. What a sad, neglected place it was! Bright sunlight and waving palm fronds notwithstanding, I would not have wanted one I loved to lie there, and the ceremony was painfully brief. I could not blame the clergyman for curtailing his own prayer; he had not known the dead lady, and it was difficult to know what to say about the circumstances that had brought her here.

At least our little party lent dignity to the proceedings. My lavender frock and Nefret's afternoon dress, with its high net collar and long sleeves, could not have been more appropriate, and the masculine members of the group were, for once, dressed like the gentlemen they were. Emerson was even wearing a proper dark cravat. As my eyes moved on, I saw a few other watchers in galabeeyahs and turbans, at a discreet distance from the grave. One of them was Saiyid. It had been good of him to come, I thought-though I wondered how he had found out the time and place. The Colonel would certainly not have invited his dragoman to be present.

When the time came to lower the coffin into the grave I understood the presence of the Egyptians. At a gesture from Dr. Willoughby they sidled up and took hold of the ropes. They must be the ones who had dug the grave and who would fill it in when all was over. Once the plain wooden box rested on the bottom of the grave the Colonel bent and picked up a handful of dirt, which he tossed into the hole. Of all the sounds on earth, I think, that is one of the most terrible. It is such a small, dry sound to signal the end of a life.

We repeated the gesture-Dolly with her fingertips, lips pursed and nose wrinkled-except for Emerson, who refuses to participate actively in any sort of religious ceremony. Then it was over, and we moved away from the place where the two men in turbans waited, shovels in their hands.

"In our part of the world," the Colonel said, "it is customary for us to invite a few friends to gather with us after the sad ceremonies. May I look forward to seeing you on Mr. Vandergelt's dahabeeyah, which he has been kind enough to place at my disposal?"

His glance included us all and did not linger any longer on Nefret than would have been proper for a man who has just buried his wife. I accepted with thanks, but added, "I am not certain my husband will be able-"

"He will not," said Emerson. "Apologies and all that sort of thing."

"And I regret to say that I have a previous engagement," said Ramses. "You remember, Mother?"

"Oh, yes," I said. He was not engaged to Enid until after midday, but I supposed it would take him a while to collect the necessary bits of the costume.

"I look forward to seeing you ladies shortly, then," said the Colonel with a polite bow. Dolly looked back at us, her steps dragging as her father led her away, but he gave her no opportunity to linger.

The gravediggers had begun their work; it gave me a cauld grue to hear their cheerful conversation and laughter mingling with the thud of falling earth. Emerson took my arm and David took Nefret's in a grip almost as firm; as we started toward our hired carriage, I saw that Ramses had intercepted Mr. Tollington and was speaking to him.

I stopped. "Let us wait for Ramses, Emerson. If he starts to fight with Mr. Tollington-"

"He didn't start the last one," Emerson said. "Er-not precisely."

He stopped, though.

The discussion did not last long. It ended with Ramses holding out his hand. The other young man took it and they exchanged a hearty handshake. Then Tollington hurried after the Bellinghams and Ramses joined us. He was looking rather pensive.

"So you made it up, did you?" I asked. "That was well done, Ramses."

"Thank you, Mother," said Ramses.

"What did he say?" Nefret asked curiously.

"The usual sort of thing." Ramses shrugged. "The rituals of manliness in Western culture are as formalized as those of primitive tribes. It was a foolish but necessary ceremony."

The carriage started up. Emerson loosened his cravat and took out his pipe. "I presume, Ramses, that when you told Bellingham you had another engagement it was only an excuse. Are you and David photographing this morning?"

"Not exactly. Mother has asked me to put together a costume for Mrs. Fraser and coach her in her role."

"I will go with you," Nefret said. "A man cannot-"

"No, you will not," Emerson said firmly. "I refuse to have this entire family wasting time away from the dig. I need you this afternoon. We will go first to call on Bellingham-oh, yes, Peabody, I am going; since Ramses and David won't be with you, / will. We will stay precisely fifteen minutes and then we will leave-together."

"Yes, my dear," I murmured.

I tried to give Ramses some suggestions as to costuming, but he cut me short. "I know the sort of thing, Mother. You can safely leave it to me."

We left Ramses and David at the Grand Hotel, where there were several shops selling tourist goods. Both boys knew their way around Luxor; they assured me again that my assistance was not needed.

Our men took us back across the river and landed us at the dock which Cyrus had caused to be built and which he graciously shared with us. The Valley of the Kings and the Amelia were the only dahabeeyahs moored on the West Bank; the other wealthy owners or hirers of these vessels preferred to be nearer the conveniences of Luxor.

I had not realized that Americans made such a festive occa sion of funerals. The Colonel's "few friends" included Cyrus, Howard Carter, M. Legrain, several other archaeologists, and a few people who must have been tourists. Not the common Cook's tour visitors, however; all were dressed with an elegance that spoke of wealth, and the Colonel's introductions were sprinkled with "Lord's" and "Sir's." Mr. Tollington was there, glowering darkly at a sandy-haired, narrow-shouldered young man who was devoting himself to Dolly. From his accent, his tailoring, and his title-he was one of the "Sir's"- I took him to be English.

We accepted a glass of sherry and a biscuit, and while Emerson talked with Howard about tombs Cyrus drew me aside.

"I got your message too late last night to reply to it," he said in a low voice. "What happened?"

I told him of what had transpired and of our plans for that evening. "I assume you will want to be present," I added. "Mrs. Jones asked about you."

"Did she?" Cyrus's face split into a pleased smile. "She's a corker, isn't she?"

"She is a clever woman," I corrected. "I think it will work out, Cyrus, if Enid does her part."

Cyrus nodded. "That was a good idea, Mrs. Amelia. I am sorry, though, that I won't get to see Ramses playing the role of a languorous Egyptian maiden."

Emerson had lost track of the time, as he does when he gets to talking about tombs, but I noticed he kept a close eye on Nefret. She and Dolly were seated side by side on the divan. Whose idea that had been I did not know, but I supposed it had been the Colonel's. What fools these men are, I thought to myself; his daughter and the young woman he presumably (and vainly) hoped to marry were approximately the same age, so he may have thought it would be "nice" if they learned to know one another. The two girls certainly made a pretty picture: one in stark black that set off her silvery curls, the other in pure white with hair of red-gold. Their expressions were not so pretty. I

wondered what they were talking about to bring such a sour look to Dolly's face and make Nefret's blue eyes flash.

Finally Emerson tore himself away and announced we must go. "Carter is taking luncheon with us," he informed me. "He has promised to come round and have a look at my tomb afterwards."

"Oh, you are going to allow him to have luncheon first?" I inquired.

"We must go back to the house to change in any case," said Emerson, now cravat- and coatless. "Nefret cannot climb in long skirts and frou-frou."

I asked Cyrus to make one of the party, and we set off in his carriage. We left the gentlemen to their tobacco on the verandah. I accompanied Nefret to her room to help her with hooks and buttons and to ask how she and Dolly had got on.

"Like a mongoose and a snake," said Nefret. "We are natural antagonists."

"And why is that?" I inquired.

"The only things she can talk about are flirting and fashions. I cannot determine whether she is naturally stupid or whether her brain was constricted from birth, like the bound feet of Chinese ladies."

"The latter, I believe," I said, unhooking the boned collar. "Men prefer women to be brainless."

"Not all men," Nefret said. "Whew! Thank you, Aunt Amelia, that is much better."

"Not all," I agreed. "But men like Emerson are rare."

"That makes them all the more worth pursuing," Nefret said with a fond smile. "I do Dolly an injustice, however. She can also talk about other women-spitefully and maliciously."

"Including the late Mrs. Bellingham?"

"I thought I might as well see what I could get out of her," Nefret admitted. "It wasn't a great deal, and none of it was favorable. She is still furious because Daddy would not take her with them on their bridal trip." Her face sobered. "It was rather unpleasant to hear the way she talked about the poor dead woman, Aunt Amelia; it was as if Lucinda were still alive, and her rival."

Since I knew Emerson would be fretting about the time, I did not pursue the topic, but Nefret had given me a great deal to think about. She had-I hoped! -been too innocent to understand that a Mrs. Bellingham of childbearing age was indeed a formidable rival to Dolly.

Most men prefer sons to daughters. It has something to do with their peculiar definition of masculinity, I believe. The social class to which the Colonel belonged put great emphasis on lineage and the transmission of a family name from father to son. I did not doubt he shared this absurd obsession; he was that sort of man. Four marriages had produced no sons, only a girl who would not carry on the family name. It would never have occurred to the Colonel that the fault, if fault it is, might be his, and I felt sure he had not given up hope even yet. Dolly was shrewd enough to know that a baby brother would probably replace her in the affection of her father.

Young girls make excellent murderers. (And, let me be fair-young boys as well.) The young are naturally selfish. Moral values are not innate, they are pounded into children, often with great difficulty and sometimes without success, as the history of crime sadly demonstrates.

However, Dolly had not been with her father and his bride in Cairo. Regretfully I abandoned this theory.

Over luncheon Cyrus and I discussed arrangements for the seance that evening. He was mightily intrigued by the business, and discretion was unnecessary since Howard, like most of the residents of Luxor, had heard rumors about Donald's quest. It would have been hard to keep it a secret, since he talked freely about it and quizzed every Egyptologist he encountered.