Daughter of the God-King(39)

The man raised his eyes and smiled a dry little smile that did not reach his eyes. Rather than wait for him to speak she said into the silence, “I imagine if you had any information about my parents I would have heard.”

The man spread his hands. “Yes, of course—I am terribly sorry, Miss Blackhouse, but I fear we must assume the worst. It has been several months, and if they were able, they certainly would have contacted me.”

“A search has been mounted?”

He pressed his lips together and again, she held the impression he was disguising his extreme displeasure. “I assure you, I am not the only person who has been assiduously attempting to locate them, but to no avail.”

“I would like to visit the site in an attempt to trace their movements.” The words came out almost without conscious volition, but Hattie realized she had been anticipating such a journey all along. The tedious god-king’s daughter was to have yet another pilgrim—there was truly no help for it. Remembering Berry’s suggestion, she offered, “Perhaps those who were reluctant to speak to the authorities would be more willing to speak to me.”

With almost grudging approval, the man nodded slowly. “A very good idea, actually. On my end, however, I will need some information to begin the proceedings that will allow the authorities to release your parents’ effects to you.”

Hattie shifted in her seat and reflected that once again she was to be fending off questions about her parents’ effects—and from their solicitor, of all people. Warily, she replied, “So soon? I always assumed missing persons could not be pronounced dead for years.”

He made a vague gesture with his hand. “There are exigent circumstances which allow the procedure to be expedited—when there are minor children, for example.”

Hattie corrected him, “I am turned eighteen, and not a minor.”

His vague gesture was replaced with a sharp one of annoyance. “Miss Blackhouse, may I remind you this would be in your best interests? I would not be doing my job unless I move quickly to help you make all necessary arrangements in this difficult time. I owe it to your parents.”

Hattie did not argue further, feeling she oughtn’t defy him on this—and at least he wasn’t quizzing her about the strongbox, which ironically appeared to reside in his antechamber. “And I do appreciate your efforts, sir. Do I need to sign any papers?”

Mollified, he moderated his tone and re-aligned the inkwell on his desk with careful fingers. “I understand you are in possession of a password—a password that is necessary to obtain access to the safe deposit boxes.”

There was a small silence while Hattie knit her brow and stared at him. “I am not certain I understand you.”

The man stared in return, his voice once again sharp. “Surely you were given this information?”

Shaking her head she disclaimed, “No, I am afraid I was informed of no password.”

The solicitor’s eyes narrowed as he watched her closely. “Did not your parents send you correspondence? And this was not mentioned?”

Hattie met his gaze, unblinking. “I did receive the occasional correspondence, but I was informed of no password.”

The opaque eyes continued to study her and she had to suppress a sudden impulse to call out to Bing for reinforcements. Steady, she thought; you must sort this out on your own. You do not know whom to trust—even Berry, who watches you and remembers that kiss. Lifting her chin, she met the solicitor’s gaze with her own level one.

“I must insist,” the man said with restrained menace, “that you turn over any correspondence of recent months.”

“Perhaps the letter was lost in the mail,” she suggested with a hint of steel. “Or was sent to their solicitor in England.”

“An unlikely possibility,” he ground out. Hattie had the impression he was struggling to refrain from leaping across the desk to strangle her.

Striving to appear unafraid and unconcerned, she waited. “Is there anything else that is needful at present?”

With an obvious effort, he pulled himself together and rose. “Allow me to draw a draft for your expenses. Wait here and I shall return shortly.” He then left the room and Hattie waited, the voices from the shop below floating up through the louvered windows. Impossible not to think of the letter her mother had sent four months ago, the text memorized word-for-word. “My dear Hathor,” it had said—her mother did not use her nickname, “I trust this letter finds you well. We are in the process of archiving the tomb of Seti’s daughter as you may have heard. I have discovered a disk that depicts Hathor and I thought you might like to keep it about you. It has great significance and is very valuable, so please do not misplace it. Use it in the event you ever need to identify yourself to Mr. Bahur, our solicitor in Cairo. Very truly yours, Mother.”