Читать книгу Hearts In The Highlands - Ruth Axtell Morren - Страница 11

“These gilded mummy masks are particularly nice specimens.” Reid held up a pair of shiny gold heads for the audience to view. His eyes scanned the packed hall of the British Museum. The Egyptian Fund would be pleased with the sold-out crowd. There were even people standing in the back.

“We also have coverings for the upper parts of the body and the feet.” As he spoke, he set down the masks and took up the carved forms, the former showing crossed arms, and the latter, bare feet molded in gold.

“These were discovered in what we presume is a burial ground in Hawara, a few miles west of the Nile. The pyramid in the midst of this area was the burial tomb of King Amenemhat III.

“We were fortunate to uncover so many undisturbed items. Because they were buried so well, looters hadn’t yet discovered them.”

Reid kept looking from the objects he described to the people in the audience, trying to gauge if they were following what he was saying. He knew from previous presentations that his audience was composed of people from all walks of life. Few would have any in-depth archaeological knowledge.

His eyes swung back from the rear of the hall toward the front. Suddenly, his gaze backtracked, thinking he’d recognized a face. He had to peer behind a lady’s wide straw hat, flanked on either side by two large bird’s wings. A young woman sat behind and to one side of it. She appeared to be listening intently to his talk. A pity that from where she sat, there was little detail she’d be able to discern of the artifacts.

“This king lived in what is known as the Middle Kingdom.” He held up a large sculpted head of the pharaoh, all the while trying to place the face of the young woman. Reid had few acquaintances in London anymore, much less female ones.

Then it came to him. Aunt Millie’s latest companion. Reid glanced once again at the woman in the back as he explained how excavations were carried out. “We use a system called stratification, where a series of layers are carefully dug.”

He walked over to the tables covered with dozens of pots and numerous pottery fragments. “These pieces of sculpture and glazed faience were obtained in this manner. Although it’s more dramatic to come across a large monument like a pyramid, as my acclaimed colleague William Petrie says, to uncover the secrets of the past, it’s much more significant to study the everyday utensils of these buried sites. Hence, our emphasis on pottery shards.”

Although the young woman sat at the very rear of the large hall, Reid was almost sure she was the young lady he’d met in his great-aunt’s parlor the other day. She’d participated little in their conversation, but he’d been impressed with her quiet, competent manner toward Aunt Millie. What a contrast to her previous companions, women of indeterminate age with their nervous titters who fluttered around Aunt Millie every time she had an attack of the vapors.

Reid himself hardly knew how to deal with Aunt Millicent’s nerves. As a boy he’d always been slightly afraid of her exacting ways. He’d been relieved the other afternoon, when he’d thought Aunt Millie about to faint, and the steady Miss Norton had given him a reassuring look. Her light brown eyes had been sympathetic, as if telling him not to worry, she’d been through enough of these spells to manage.

Reid wrapped up the lecture with a brief description of the ancient Egyptian symbols called hieroglyphics that covered several wall painting fragments on display.

As the audience poured out of the lecture hall, Reid was immediately besieged by people asking him questions. He listened patiently and replied as briefly as possible knowing from experience that he could be kept hours after a lecture if he wasn’t careful.

The hall had cleared of most people when he spotted Miss Norton again, this time making her way to the front tables. He was in midsentence with a gentleman.

“Excuse me a moment, would you?”

“Oh—what? Certainly, Mr. Gallagher, certainly.”

Reid headed toward Miss Norton, glad he’d have a chance to repay the woman’s kindness to his aunt. He stood in front of her with a smile. “Miss Norton?”

“Yes?” she said, her eyes widening in surprise. They were the same shade as her hair, a light tawny brown.

“Did Aunt Millicent decide to brave the weather and come to the lecture?”

“Oh, no—that is, she would have liked to but she didn’t feel quite up to it—”

Of course his aunt wouldn’t have come to this crowded lecture hall. Too great a chance of catching some infectious disease. “I understand completely. I hadn’t expected her to show. You came on your own, then?”

Her cheeks deepened with color, creating an attractive effect. “Yes…”

“You’re interested in Egyptology?”

“Yes. It’s a fascinating subject. I—I heard you mention the lecture to Lady Haversham. I thought it would be educational. I used to live in Palestine, you see,” she said quickly, her voice sounding breathless.

He raised an eyebrow, his interest deepening. “Really? When was that?”

She looked away as if embarrassed. “It was years ago, when I was a girl. My parents were missionaries there for some years.”

He sensed more to the story. When she remained silent, he cleared his throat. “I hope you enjoyed the lecture.” Too late he realized it sounded as if he was hunting for a compliment.

“Oh, yes, very much so!”

Her enthusiasm encouraged him. “I’m glad. With a general audience, it’s hard to know whether one is hitting the right note. I don’t like to simplify things too much, but neither do I want to make things so technical I lose people’s understanding.”

“Oh, you adopted just the right tone, I believe. When I looked around me, everyone seemed most attentive to everything you were saying.”

His lips curled up. “No one dozing off or fidgeting?”

She returned the smile. Her mouth was wide and generous, creating the impression that when she enjoyed something, she wouldn’t stint with her feelings. He was struck once again by the color of her eyes, a warm caramel hue. His mother, a painter, had instilled in him a sense of color, line and dimension, especially for the human face.

“I don’t believe so, though the hall was so crowded, I wasn’t able to observe everyone.”

“I usually make eye contact with my audience. That’s how I saw you, although I’m surprised I spotted you, you were so far back.”

She laughed. “I was behind someone with quite a prominent hat.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I noticed the bird hat. It’s a wonder you were able to see any of the artifacts at all. I wished I’d known you were here this morning. I would have had you seated up front.”

“That’s quite all right. I was fine where I was…although it was difficult seeing any of the detail of the objects.”

“Would you like to see them now?”

She moistened her lips, her glance straying to the artifacts. “That’s actually where I was headed when you saw me. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” She indicated the group of people waiting to speak to him.

“If you’re worried about them, don’t be. Come along.” Giving her no time for further consideration, nor to ask himself why he was taking the trouble with her, he took her gently by the elbow and directed her toward the front.

“Oh, Mr. Gallagher—” Reid turned to see the museum’s assistant curator approaching him. The slim young man cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “There are some gentlemen, museum patrons, you understand, who wish to have a word—”

“Yes, in a moment.” Before he knew what he was doing, he lowered his own voice, and indicated Miss Norton at his side. “A donor.” He mouthed the words, “Major donor.”

The man’s lips rounded in a silent O. Then he quickly backed away, bowing and smiling to Miss Norton.

Reid led her to the nearest table. When they reached the artifacts, Miss Norton turned to him. “You needn’t stay with me. I don’t want to take you away from those waiting to speak with you—”

For some reason, her very reluctance to keep him at her side strengthened his own resolve to remain there. “I told them you were a possible donor.”

She stared at him. “A what?”

He grinned, and suddenly he felt like a mischievousness boy despite his almost forty years. “If they think you’re a wealthy patroness of the museum, you’re sure to be escorted to the front at the next lecture.”

Her large eyes lit up with amusement. The next second she frowned. “I don’t like being dishonest with people.”

“You weren’t. I was. Being put on the lecture circuit is both a blessing and a curse. Apart from being an archaeologist for the Egyptian Fund, I’m also expected to raise money for future digs.”

“I should think that wouldn’t be so difficult. The place was packed today.”

His eyes scanned the lingering groups of people. “The fund will be pleased. The more we can generate interest in all things Egyptian, the more easily we can seek donations.”

She nodded. “It sounds a little like missionary work. They both depend on funding from home.”

“Yes, indeed.”

He indicated the first display. Miss Norton looked over each artifact, marveling at things that had been preserved for so many centuries beneath the earth. She bent over the gold masks. He was pleased to note she didn’t touch them, but looked at the brilliant surface painted with dark strokes to signal eyes and eyebrows, mouth and nose.

“What did you think of the talk?” Mr. Gallagher stood close to her, keeping his back to the lingering crowd, hoping that would keep them from being interrupted.

“It was wonderful. I never realized there was so much to know about the ancient cultures. When I lived in Palestine, it seemed we were living in Biblical times.”

She continued studying the artifacts, as he explained each one in more detail.

When they headed back to the lobby, a few people immediately came toward him. “Mr. Gallagher—” several voices began at once.

Ignoring them, he turned to Miss Norton, reluctant to end their time together so soon. “The lecture has left me quite thirsty. What about joining me for a cup of tea?”

She swallowed, and he was afraid for a moment she would refuse. “I’d love to,” she finally said, before adding, “but I really need to get back to your aunt.”

He nodded, surprised at the disappointment he felt. “That reminds me…you were very good with her the other day. I wanted to express my gratitude. I thought she was going to faint, and I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

Once again, Miss Norton’s cheeks tinted pink. “By the sounds of it, you’re used to much graver emergencies in the desert.”

“But I’m only used to dealing with men in critical situations. I have no idea how to help an elderly female.”

“Well, thankfully, it was no more than a passing moment and your aunt was perfectly fine afterward.”

“Yes.” His first impression hadn’t been wrong. Miss Norton did understand his aunt.

She moistened her lips and glanced past his shoulder.

Before she’d think of another excuse for turning down his invitation, he held up his hand. “Now, what about that tea? It’ll only take a few minutes. There’s a place right around the corner.”

Instead of replying, she took out her watch. “I have a few minutes before having to return….” Her words came out slowly, as if still debating. “Lady Haversham generally expects me there for dinner at one o’clock.”

He took out his own watch. “It’s only half-past eleven. I’ll make sure you’re back in plenty of time…with time to spare.” Understanding laced with humor underscored his words.

“All right.”

“Good then.” He felt lighthearted all of a sudden. He glanced back around him, knowing he’d have to tell the assistant curator something. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll be right with you. I just need to tell a few people I’m off.” He marked his words with a touch to her elbow, as if afraid she’d disappear into the crowd again.

“Certainly. I’ll get my things from the cloakroom.”

“Good enough.” With another brief smile, he headed away from her.

Maddie was left standing, wondering if she’d done the right thing accepting his invitation.

She retrieved her umbrella and coat, her mind in turmoil. Would she have enough time to swallow down a cup of tea and then walk all the way back to Belgravia? If she should be late for Lady Haversham…

Since she’d begun her employment a year ago, she’d never yet missed a day nor been late when Lady Haversham expected her by her side. Before she had time to wonder about the consequences, Mr. Gallagher returned and once again took her arm. How odd it felt to have a gentleman guiding her in such a protective manner.

Once out of the building, he turned to her. “Do you mind if we walk? I feel I’ve been cooped up all morning.”

“Not at all. I walked to the lecture, as a matter of fact.”

He stared at her. “You’re joking. That’s quite a hike from Belgravia to here.”

Her cheeks warmed and she glanced down. “I enjoy walking. Too much of my time is spent indoors sitting, so I walk whenever I get the chance.” No need to mention that she also did it to save the unnecessary expense of a cab or omnibus.

She sensed his scrutiny. “I imagine my aunt requires you at her side quite a bit.”

She bit her lip, striving to answer honestly, yet not be critical of his relative. “It’s the nature of my job.”

“I suppose so.” He didn’t pursue the subject. No doubt his interest in the topic of paid companions had waned.

By the time they were seated in the tearoom and the waiter had taken their order, Maddie removed her gloves and decided to forget about Lady Haversham and enjoy herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to a public eatery. She glanced around at the charming interior. Dark wood oak beams framed the low ceiling. They sat at a small, round table covered with a spotless white linen tablecloth. A small bouquet of forget-me-nots and daffodils was placed at its center.

Mr. Gallagher leaned forward. “Tell me about your time in Palestine, Miss Norton.”

She folded her hands and looked down at the tablecloth. “There isn’t much to tell. We lived in Jerusalem from when I was eight until I was fourteen.”

“You said your parents were missionaries?”

“Yes.” She was glad to be able to speak about them instead of herself. “Papa felt a call to the mission field when he was a young man—both my parents did, actually. They went to Palestine under the auspices of the Foreign Mission Society, when representatives of the society came to our church to speak one Sunday.”

“I’m surprised they took a young child with them.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “Not only one. Three. I have two older brothers.”

He shook his head. “I can’t imagine being responsible for anyone but myself over there. And you all survived your time in the field?”

“Yes. I won’t say it was without incident….” Her words slowed. “My parents probably wouldn’t have come back when they did, but I had fallen ill with malaria.”

“The Middle East can be a harsh place.”

She found him observing her, his long fingers idly smoothing down the ends of his mustache. She could feel her cheeks redden under his gaze, wondering what he saw—a woman past her youth, with eyes that tended to look sad even when she wasn’t, cheeks that gave away her emotions, a too-wide mouth. Her eyelids fluttered downward as the moment drew out.

“Most foreigners succumb to malaria at one time or another. I’ve gone through enough bouts to dread the symptoms.”

She sighed. “I grew to know them quite well. It was after my third attack that my parents decided to return to England.”

He continued stroking his mustache, studying her. He had such a direct way of looking at a person, she felt he could read her innermost thoughts.

“I’m still amazed that a European woman and her three young children survived the experience as long as you did.”

“My two brothers were old enough that my parents would probably have braved it out longer, if they had fallen ill, but I was younger, and somewhat frail when I was a child.” She gazed out the window. Her parents had had to make so many sacrifices on her behalf. She turned back to him, recovering herself with a smile. “My two brothers are now missionaries in their place.”

“In Palestine?”

“No. One is in Constantinople, the other in West Africa.”

He whistled softly. “Your family is spread far and wide. Are your parents still alive?”

“Yes. Papa has a small curacy in Wiltshire.” She steered the conversation away from her family. “Tell me how you came to be involved in Egyptology, Mr. Gallagher.”

He eased back against the small wooden chair. “The question is more, How could I help not becoming involved? I lived a good many years in Egypt when I was growing up. My father was a diplomat. When I came back to England to school, my great-uncle—Lady Haversham’s husband—took up where my life abroad had left off.”

He was interrupted by the waiter bringing them their tea. Maddie absorbed what he’d told her, watching him as he spoke to the waiter. Although he addressed the man casually, seemingly as at ease in this quaint tearoom as in the great lecture hall, she continued to sense a man outside his natural element. Today he was as well dressed as he had been at his aunt’s, in a starched white shirt, finely patterned silk tie and sack coat of dark broadcloth, yet she couldn’t help picturing him in more rugged garb, such as he must wear in the desert.

As she stirred sugar into her tea, Maddie chanced a glance at her own navy-blue dress. It was the same one she’d worn the day he’d come to visit his aunt. Well, that wasn’t surprising, being one of only three gowns she owned. It was certainly appropriate for a paid companion, but not up to standards to be seen in a gentleman’s company. She must look like a nursemaid or governess beside him. What would the waiter or the patrons sitting around them think of such a handsome man escorting such a dowdy female?

The waiter moved away from their table and Mr. Gallagher turned his attention back to her. “I really wanted to thank you today for how you are taking care of Aunt Millicent. You seem to have a way with her.”

“You have nothing to thank me for. I’m just her companion. She has a whole legion of servants to take care of her. As well as a fine physician,” she added, thinking of how often Dr. Aldwin was summoned.

“She seems to rely on you, however.”

Maddie removed the spoon from her cup and placed it on the saucer, uncomfortable with the compliment. “I’m only doing my job.”

“How long have you been a…companion?” He hesitated over the word, as if unaccustomed to the term.

“Since I left home.”

“When was that?”

“When I was eighteen.” In the silence that followed she wondered if he was calculating how old she must be. On the cusp of turning thirty, she could have told him.

He only nodded, and again, she had that sense that he was evaluating her words, taking nothing at face value. He was probably cataloging her as a spinster securely on the shelf.

She shook aside the depressing thought and imagined instead that it was probably a painstaking attention to detail that made him a good archaeologist. She was still amazed he had remembered her name—or her, for that matter. He’d hardly glanced at her during the time he was at his aunt’s for tea.

“How long have you been involved in archaeology?” she asked, returning to the topic she was really interested in.

Humor tugged at his lips, half-hidden by his mustache. “Oh, forever.”

She smiled at his evident pleasure in the topic. “You said Lady Haversham’s late husband was engaged in the field?”

“Yes. Good old Uncle George. It was he who gave me my love of archaeology.”

She hadn’t been with Lady Haversham long enough to know too much about her employer’s late husband, although she knew he had often gone abroad. “Was he an archaeologist?”

“They didn’t have them back then. He was more an adventurer and explorer. When he came to Egypt, he fell under the spell of the pyramids. He began to bring home anything he could find. It was all quite a free-for-all back then—any tourist or traveler taking what he could find, whatever the looters hadn’t gotten over the previous centuries.” His tone deepened to disgust.

Maddie rested her chin on her palm, glad to be taken away from her present world to one so close to that of her girlhood.

“By the time I came back to England, my father had been posted somewhere else. So, I began to spend my summers with Uncle George and Aunt Millicent. He was living in London by then. He’d show me parts of his collection. He had some incredible things—from Greek amphorae to Roman headdresses, but his real love was Egyptian artifacts. He had pottery, jewelry, bits of sculpture.” He sighed. “I don’t think I ever saw the whole thing. I wonder where it all is now.”

“I haven’t been with your aunt for very long. I know she has many things stored away. She often talks of her travels when she was younger. She was very excited when she knew you were coming home.”

He looked sidelong through the window at the street. “I haven’t considered Britain my home in many years.”

Maddie bit her lip, afraid she’d said something wrong. But he turned back to her and began telling her about some of the digs he’d been involved in. Once again she was transported to another time and place, her present dreary existence swallowed up by that other world.

Suddenly a clock tower down the street struck the hour. She sat up and pulled out her watch. It was half-past twelve! “Oh, I really must get back. Thank you so much for the tea.” She began to rise.

“Steady there.” He snapped open his own watch. “You have plenty of time to get back if Aunt Millicent still dines at one. Wait, and I’ll get you a cab.”

Maddie sat back down, but felt the tension grow in her. She had wanted to avoid having to take the omnibus back. What would a hansom cost? Oh, dear, it couldn’t be helped now. She had no time to cover the distance by walking.

Mr. Gallagher signaled the waiter and settled the bill. Maddie had to restrain herself from drumming her fingers on the tabletop. She gathered her bag and gloves.

Finally, he stood and she joined him immediately. “I can catch an omnibus a few blocks from here.”

“Nonsense. You can catch a hansom right out front and it will be a lot quicker.”

She bit her lip and said no more, thinking again how much the fare would cost. After they’d collected her coat and umbrella, they stood on the curb.

It didn’t take Mr. Gallagher long to hail a carriage. When it arrived, she suddenly realized that their morning together was over. It seemed scarcely to have begun. She couldn’t remember a time in her recent memory when she’d had such an enjoyable outing. Disappointment stabbed her.

“I—thank you again,” she said, stumbling over the words in her effort to express her gratitude.

He held the door open for her. “The pleasure was mine. I really wanted to do something for all your kindness to my aunt.”

Maddie held her smile in place, unable to help feeling just a bit disappointed that it hadn’t been more for him than an act of kindness for an employee of his relative. It was thoughtful of him, all the same. Not many family members would take any consideration of a paid companion.

She placed her hand in his to bid farewell, and again she felt his strength and protection—which left her a little bereft when their hands separated.

She settled in the small space of the cab and placed her belongings at her side. Lastly, she took one more look out the window and gave a wave when she saw him still standing on the curb. He was a tall, lean man, his appearance that of a rugged adventurer and explorer, as he’d described his uncle, charmingly out of place on the London sidewalk.

He returned her wave with a small salute of his own, and she had another mental image of him in the desert, a camel as his mode of transportation, a host of Bedouins his companions.

As the carriage made its way from Bloomsbury across town to Belgravia, Maddie took out her purse and got her fare ready. She sighed, knowing she’d have to make up for the money in another quarter. She shook her head. There weren’t many areas where she could cut back more than she already was. She couldn’t not buy stamps for her weekly letters to her parents or brothers.

She was back at Lady Haversham’s much more quickly than she was used to. A glance at her watch told her she still had time to wash up and tidy her hair.

When she descended the cab, she handed the coachman his fare.

“Oh, that’s all taken care of, ma’am.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“The gentleman what hailed the cab for you. He took care o’ your fare.” He smiled. “And a generous tip, as well, to get you here quickly.”

She stepped back on the sidewalk, astonishment leaving her speechless.

He tipped his hat to her. “Good day t’ye.” With a snap of the reins, he was off.

Maddie looked after him a moment. She had underestimated Mr. Gallagher’s attention to detail…as well as his kindness. She blushed, as it occurred to her that it only meant he understood the reduced circumstances of a paid companion.

Remembering her duties, she turned about and headed up the walk to the front door. She’d have to thank Mr. Gallagher the next time she saw him.

If there was a next time. Then she remembered his words, At the next lecture. All at once her steps grew lighter as she hurried up the steps.