her attention back to the note.
She took it and saw how his hand was trembling.
Maybe she had misjudged him. He seemed far more
distressed at the news of Hastings’ accident than she had
surmised. Telling him she would have the message taken
directly to the elderly man, she hurried out of the vicarage.
If Nash was surprised Reverend Fairfield was not
joining her on the ride back to Rosewood Hall, he showed
no sign of it. He must have become accustomed to the
peculiarities of this family. She wished she could.
Balancing the note on her lap, she stared at the design
pressed into the wax. It looked like some sort of
mythological character—half lion and half snake. Not at
all what she would have thought a vicar might use.
She wondered why Reverend Fairfield had sent a note
instead of hurrying to Hastings’ bedside himself. When a
yawn burst out of her, she pushed her curiosity aside. There
was enough amiss. She did not need to look for more
trouble.
Darcy climbed the front steps as rain started falling
beyond the porte-cochere, and the door beneath the rosetinted
glass opened. She greeted the butler Fraser. He acted
as if he were frightened about someone or something
outside, for he hastily closed the door as sweat shone on
his brow.
“Dr. Simon is in his office,” he said before she could
say more.
“How is Hastings?”
“The doctor decided to stay with him while Dr.
Hastings sleeps.”
She held out the letter the vicar had sent. “Will you
have this delivered to Hastings’ room? Reverend Fairfield
wanted him to see it as soon as possible.”
“Isn’t the vicar coming?”
“He said he would be here soon.”
Fraser’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “That’s good. Dr.
Simon seems to have found sleep impossible himself. He
came down to his office and asked me to ask you if you
would join him there upon your return.”
Darcy nodded, although she could not halt a wistful
glance toward the stairs. Her nightmare had left her more
exhausted than when she went to bed, and the events since
she had awakened to find herself in Simon’s arms had only
added to her confusion and fatigue. Hoping Simon would
realize she could not type accurately when she was so tired,
she trudged along the hallway toward his office.
She paused when she saw the filmy glow hanging in
the air before the door. “What are you?” she whispered.
“Why are you here near Simon’s office?”
The glow flowed toward her too swiftly for her to react.
As it surrounded her, its light flickering along her as if she
had swallowed a ray of sunshine, all signs of her exhaustion
vanished. She was filled with a joy so sweet she laughed.
Putting her fingers to her lips, hoping no one had heard
her giddy giggle when Hastings was being tended to by
the doctor upstairs, she turned to see the glowing air rise
toward the ceiling and disappear.
She shivered, all yearning to smile vanishing along
with the glow. This odd light, which was so different from
her companion light, yet had metamorphosed into it when
she had seen it in Simon’s office, had created these strong
emotions of sorrow and now happiness each time it
appeared.
Was it a ghost? She frowned. She did not believe in
such silliness. Ghost stories were like Jaddeh’s amazing
tales, fun to repeat but based on nothing.
Another shiver coursed along her. Those were
Grandmother Kincaid’s opinions, not hers. If she accepted
that her companion light was some sort of guardian angel,
believing in ghosts which remained as pure emotion was
not much of a stretch to imagine.
She gazed up at the ceiling and whispered as she had
before, “What are you?” Some lingering sensation from
the glow suggested the answer to that question was one
she must find soon.
Nine
As Darcy entered the office, the soft patter of rain
against the windows was the only sound she heard. When
she saw Simon bent over a book, she had to fight the
temptation to smooth back his russet hair. Seeing him
absorbed in tracing the origins of another word was
appealing. She admired his resolve to complete his book
by the deadline. She was unsure she could be as focused if
her father had been hurt.
He looked up, coming to his feet, and she saw she had
misread him again. His face was drawn, his eyes dull with
worry. Setting the book on the table beside him, he swore
when several more tumbled to the floor.
She knelt and gathered them up, setting them back on
the table and straightening the pile so no more fell.
“Thank you,” Simon said tersely.
“Fraser said you wished to see me straightaway.”
Instead of replying to her comment, he asked, “Is
Andrew here?”
“Reverend Fairfield is following me back to Rosewood
Hall. He should be here soon, although the storm might
delay him.” She stood.
“Very good. I know he’ll want to be here. Thank you
for going to Halyeyn to alert him.”
“Simon, may I ask a strange question?”
“If you must.”
She flinched as she had at the vicarage. Simon’s tone
was almost lifeless. “It can wait until later.”
“You might as well ask now. Andrew never goes
anywhere quickly. He always has one loose end or another
to tie up, even in the middle of the night.” He went to the
window and peered out. “Last time Father took ill, Andrew
was more than two hours getting here, because he was
busy with his duties.” Facing her, he asked, “What’s
bothering you?”
“Don’t think me silly, but does Rosewood Hall have a
resident ghost?”
“Probably. Any house this old must have a couple of
spirits or two.” His lips tilted his mustache, although his
eyes remained filled with worry. “Why? Have you seen
one?”
“Maybe.” She wrapped her arms around herself as she
stared at the rain crawling along the window.
“I’d have thought you’d be more likely to see a real
ghost at Andrew’s house.”
“The vicarage?”
“It wasn’t always the vicarage. In fact, Andrew is the
first vicar to live there. He had a much smaller house before
he received the house from Mrs. Gaines after she died in
the insane asylum overlooking Halyeyn.”
“Insane asylum? Is that the big building on the hill
beyond the village?”
He nodded. “We try to forget it’s there, but those with
loved ones who are mad believe they’re helping them with
a life in the country.”
“Did the church or Reverend Fairfield inherit the
house?”
“I’m not sure. I believe it’s his for as long as he is
vicar of Halyeyn. He did spend a great deal o
f time with
Mrs. Gaines before she was sent to the asylum.” He walked
toward her. “Why are you so interested?”
“He just seems to be . . .” When Simon paused only
inches from her, her voice faltered. “It’s not important.”
She eased past him as if oblivious to his powerful virility.
No longer could she ignore the strong muscles hidden
beneath his sedate shirt. Her fingers tingled to touch that
smooth skin again. Taking off her bonnet and shawl, she
put them on a chair as she asked, “Shall I continue with
the pages from the Middle English text next?”
“You want to go to work now? You’ve been up half
the night.”
“As have you.” She rubbed her hands together, for a
sudden chill seemed to flicker along her fingers. “I doubt
if I can sleep now, and we’re lagging behind what we need
to get done in order to meet your deadline.”
He stepped between her and the desk. “Darcy, I know
you’re uneasy about what happened in your rooms before
Father fell.”
“You said there was nothing to discuss, and I agree.
You were kind to come to check on me, and I appreciate
it.” She looked past him, so she did not have to meet his
eyes. Then she might have to admit to herself—and to
him—how she wanted to be honest with him about so many
things.
“Yes.”
He said nothing more as she walked around him to
the desk. As she began to work, she tried to push away
both the chill of seeing that odd glow in the hallway and
the sultry heat of standing so close to Simon. She rolled a
clean page into the typewriter, and she pressed the keys,
she never had been so happy to find a haven in her work.
***
~~~ Meskhenet stepped ashore on the far side of the
Nile. She had never come to Thoth’s Valley without her
brother and his retainers. Today, she brought only a single
servant. Nuru, who had served Meskhenet’s mother, knew
how to keep her counsel. Unless asked directly by Pharaoh,
she would not reveal where she and Meskhenet had
traveled.
Turning to the boatman, Meskhenet smiled. Ubaid was
as faithful as Nuru, so she had been elated to find him
with his small boat by the wharf this morning.
“Wait here,” she said.
“I must return to the palace by midday to ferry others
to this shore,” the boatman replied.
“Our business here will be completed long before
midday.”
He nodded his shaved head and sank to sit in the
bottom of his shallow boat. Pulling out a piece of sail, he
bent to work on repairing a rip in it.
Meskhenet motioned for Nuru to follow her as they
walked along the dusty path toward the heart of Thoth’s
Valley. She had come with Onuris on the day her brother
had selected the site of his tomb, and she had been here on
the day the priests came to consecrate it. That had been
months ago, but she knew she would be able to find the
tomb. It would be the sole site of work in the valley. All
activity had been completed at her father’s tomb, and it
had been sealed, its entrance hidden when her father’s
sarcophagus was placed within it to await his judgment
by Thoth.
Sounds of stone being torn from the mountainside,
which rose abruptly from the sand, led her toward where
men worked, their skin already a sheen of sweat. No one
seemed to take note of her and Nuru walking along the
road. Dressed in simple robes and without any jewelry
other than the necklace and the lapis ring that had been
her mother’s, she could have been one of the workers’
women.
“What are you doing here?” asked a deep voice from
beside the road.
Meskhenet believed her heart would leap from her
breast to dance with joy as she saw Kafele climb up from
a ravine. He was as handsome as she remembered, even
with rock dust covering the symbols of Thoth on his sandals
and turning his hair to the gray it would become when he
grew old.
“I came to see you.” She heard Nuru’s breath draw in,
but she would not be dishonest. It had been a full turn of
the moon since she had last spoken with Kafele.
He took her hand, drawing her toward a stack of stones
that would conceal them from the work area. Nuru
followed only a few paces, seeking the shade although the
sun was not far above the eastern horizon.
“You should not be here,” Kafele said.
“You don’t wish for me to be here?”
He framed her face with his large hands. “Beloved of
Thoth, you know I wish you to be near me every minute of
the day and throughout the night. But you are Pharaoh’s
sister.”
“Do you think I care about that?” She stood on tiptoe
and brushed her lips against his.
With an eager laugh, he tugged her into his arms as
his mouth covered hers. His fingers rubbed her back gently
as he held her even closer.
Slowly he turned her so he pressed her against the
stones, but the rock was no harder than his strong body.
Her head rested on his muscular arm as he continued to
kiss her with uncontrollable passion. His other hand settled
on her waist, and he caressed its slender lines.
Her own arms slipped up his naked back, her skin
delighting in the hot, sticky warmth of his. When he raised
his mouth from hers, she did not ease away. She gazed up
into his eyes, which were bemused with glittering desire.
He traced her face’s curves with a single finger, as if
seeking to learn each angle. She wondered if he explored
the stone he used to create her brother’s tomb with this
same questing curiosity.
“You are like a kitten,” he murmured. “When I pet
you lightly, you purr so sweetly. The question is if you are
a gentle cat or a lioness.”
“My lady.” Nuru’s voice held a hint of anxiety. “He
comes.”
Meskhenet did not need to ask whom her servant spoke
of. Nuru disliked the chief architect Usi even more than
Meskhenet.
Leaving Kafele’s arms with regret, she said, “Usi may
be seeking you.”
“You must leave without delay, and you must not return
here alone.”
“But I need to see you.”
“I will come to you.” He gripped her hands. “Do not
do anything ever again as foolhardy as returning here alone.
Promise me that.”
“I promise,” she replied, the words bitter on her tongue.
“You must think before you act.”
“Something my brother has told me more than once.”
He gave her a fleeting smile as he said, “Now you
must leave, Beloved of—”
His name was shouted by the chief architect, who must
still be on the other side of the road.
Knowing what she risked, Meskhenet kissed Kafele
again. His arms came up around her to hold her against
/> him before he pushed her away.
“Go!” he ordered.
She doubted if she had ever done anything in her life
as difficult as walking toward where Nuru paced in dismay.
A single glance back revealed Kafele had already
disappeared among the rocks edging the ravine.
Meskhenet motioned for her servant to follow her back
toward the Nile. They had gone only halfway to the water
before her name was called. For a moment, she tried to
convince her ears Kafele was coming after her. It was
impossible because she recognized the man’s voice
instantly.
Usi.
A young man rushed up to her and dropped to his
knees. Through his panting, she realized he was explaining
Usi wished to speak to her before she returned to the palace.
“Tell him I have no time to remain here,” she replied.
“Not even long enough to make your presence
known?” came Usi’s question from behind her.
She turned, wearing a practiced smile. She had used it
often when speaking with the chief architect. “I did not
want to disturb your workers,” she said.
“So why are you here?” His smile was unctuous, and
she knew better than to trust it. Soon she must speak with
her brother about the chief architect’s greedy heart that
could become troublesome in the months ahead.
She could not reply with the truth, so she lied as she
did so seldom. “I had heard the tunnel to the tomb had
grown double-fold in length in just the past half-turn of
the moon. I wished to see that amazing feat for myself.”
“I would be glad to offer you a tour whenever you
wish.”
“No need. I have seen enough for today. When next
my brother the Pharaoh comes to the site, I believe I shall
join him for a further tour.”
Usi did not step aside to let her pass. “It is not your
honor to join your brother. That goes to your sister.”
She stared at him for a long minute before realizing
what he meant. It was not the place of a chief architect to
speak of the Pharaoh’s intimate life with anyone, not even
Pharaoh’s sister. With all her dignity, she said, “You forget
yourself, Usi. Please move, so I may continue to the river.”
“I have Pharaoh’s respect, and he knows I would do
anything for him.” He eyed her up and down so boldly she
feared he had persuaded Onuris to give her to him. Such a
Ferguson, J. A. - Call Back Yesterday.txt Page 15
