Read Online The Buried Pyramid by Jane Lindskold - Free Book Online
Authors: Jane Lindskold
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surprise and astonishment.
“Miss!” she said. “Miss! These are pistols in here!”
Jenny nodded. “That’s right. Matched set and a boot-top derringer. Bowie knife, too, in the lid. They make it through all right?”
Emily snapped shut the lid as if she were closing it on a box of scorpions: quickly, but with great delicacy.
“I wouldn’t rightly know, Miss.”
“I’ll check them later, then. Salt air might not have done them too much harm, locked away like that.”
“I suppose so, Miss . . .”
Emily folded some of Jenny’s undergarments in silence, but finally curiosity got the better of her.
“Were those your late father’s, Miss?”
Jenny felt that familiar sense of unreality, as if Pierre Benet somehow weren’t dead, though she knew all too well that both he and Mama were gone.
“No, Emily,” she replied, her voice softer than she’d intended. “They’re mine. Always been mine.”
Emily looked at her, eyes impossibly wide. For the first time, Jenny noticed they were blue and that Emily had freckles.
“Oh.”
If Emily excused herself a few minutes later, Jenny, carefully relocking the weapons case, could hardly blame her.
Neville returned shortly before lunch and found Jenny awake, dressed, and in the front parlor, a book spread out on the table before her. When he entered, she leapt to her feet with spontaneous pleasure, a sunny smile all at odds with the unrelieved black of her dress lighting her face.
“What are you reading?” he asked.
“Belzoni’s account of his travels in Egypt.”
“Still interested in Egypt then?”
“Very much so!”
Neville smiled to himself. Perhaps Egypt would lose some of its charm if Jenny knew what other delights awaited her in England.
He seated himself in one of the high backed overstuffed chairs that remained from his parents’ day, steepled his fingers, and began:
“This morning I went out and investigated options for you here in London while I am away. I spoke with Lady Lindenmeade, a good friend of your grandparents. She has said she would be delighted to have you stay with her while I am abroad. The Lindenmeades are quite well connected, and one of Lady Lindenmeade’s granddaughters is coming out this year. I am certain you would receive the best introductions. Margaret is a fine young woman and would only be too happy for your company.”
Jenny bit her lip, clearly not wishing to seem ungracious in the face of an offer that many young women would be only too delighted to accept.
“If it doesn’t make much of a difference, Uncle Neville, I’d still rather go with you.”
Neville realized he was pleased rather than otherwise.
“Well, I spoke with Lady Lindenmeade on that matter as well, and she pointed out to me that as you are still in mourning for your parents, you could not be expected to be enthusiastic about teas and balls.”
“That’s true enough,” Jenny said, though something in her tone suggested that she might be less than enthusiastic at the best of times.
Neville wondered if the American version of the balls and parties that would fill the winter season was less entertaining than the English. Hadn’t Boston been settled by Puritans? Perhaps that explained Jenny’s lack of enthusiasm. He put the matter from his mind.
“Lady Lindenmeade assured me that your reputation would be undamaged if you traveled in my company to Egypt. She is writing to some friends of hers who are wintering there, and believes she can arrange for you to remain with their party when I must leave Cairo.”
Jenny nodded, but Neville thought that some of the brightness in her features dimmed. However, she was too polite—or too prudent—to press the matter. All she said was, “Then I can go with you?”
“That’s right, my dear. You will winter in the land of the pharaohs!”
At this, Jenny’s happiness returned.
“I have arranged,” Neville went on, “for you to meet Lady Lindenmeade for tea tomorrow. She can better advise
“Miss!” she said. “Miss! These are pistols in here!”
Jenny nodded. “That’s right. Matched set and a boot-top derringer. Bowie knife, too, in the lid. They make it through all right?”
Emily snapped shut the lid as if she were closing it on a box of scorpions: quickly, but with great delicacy.
“I wouldn’t rightly know, Miss.”
“I’ll check them later, then. Salt air might not have done them too much harm, locked away like that.”
“I suppose so, Miss . . .”
Emily folded some of Jenny’s undergarments in silence, but finally curiosity got the better of her.
“Were those your late father’s, Miss?”
Jenny felt that familiar sense of unreality, as if Pierre Benet somehow weren’t dead, though she knew all too well that both he and Mama were gone.
“No, Emily,” she replied, her voice softer than she’d intended. “They’re mine. Always been mine.”
Emily looked at her, eyes impossibly wide. For the first time, Jenny noticed they were blue and that Emily had freckles.
“Oh.”
If Emily excused herself a few minutes later, Jenny, carefully relocking the weapons case, could hardly blame her.
Neville returned shortly before lunch and found Jenny awake, dressed, and in the front parlor, a book spread out on the table before her. When he entered, she leapt to her feet with spontaneous pleasure, a sunny smile all at odds with the unrelieved black of her dress lighting her face.
“What are you reading?” he asked.
“Belzoni’s account of his travels in Egypt.”
“Still interested in Egypt then?”
“Very much so!”
Neville smiled to himself. Perhaps Egypt would lose some of its charm if Jenny knew what other delights awaited her in England.
He seated himself in one of the high backed overstuffed chairs that remained from his parents’ day, steepled his fingers, and began:
“This morning I went out and investigated options for you here in London while I am away. I spoke with Lady Lindenmeade, a good friend of your grandparents. She has said she would be delighted to have you stay with her while I am abroad. The Lindenmeades are quite well connected, and one of Lady Lindenmeade’s granddaughters is coming out this year. I am certain you would receive the best introductions. Margaret is a fine young woman and would only be too happy for your company.”
Jenny bit her lip, clearly not wishing to seem ungracious in the face of an offer that many young women would be only too delighted to accept.
“If it doesn’t make much of a difference, Uncle Neville, I’d still rather go with you.”
Neville realized he was pleased rather than otherwise.
“Well, I spoke with Lady Lindenmeade on that matter as well, and she pointed out to me that as you are still in mourning for your parents, you could not be expected to be enthusiastic about teas and balls.”
“That’s true enough,” Jenny said, though something in her tone suggested that she might be less than enthusiastic at the best of times.
Neville wondered if the American version of the balls and parties that would fill the winter season was less entertaining than the English. Hadn’t Boston been settled by Puritans? Perhaps that explained Jenny’s lack of enthusiasm. He put the matter from his mind.
“Lady Lindenmeade assured me that your reputation would be undamaged if you traveled in my company to Egypt. She is writing to some friends of hers who are wintering there, and believes she can arrange for you to remain with their party when I must leave Cairo.”
Jenny nodded, but Neville thought that some of the brightness in her features dimmed. However, she was too polite—or too prudent—to press the matter. All she said was, “Then I can go with you?”
“That’s right, my dear. You will winter in the land of the pharaohs!”
At this, Jenny’s happiness returned.
“I have arranged,” Neville went on, “for you to meet Lady Lindenmeade for tea tomorrow. She can better advise
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