Shrugging, Hattie was philosophical. “I should not have made a good curate’s wife, I think.”
“Certainly not,” agreed Eugenie with a toss of her curls. “The holy men, they are never very good in bed.”
Deciding it would be best not to ask the basis for such a conclusion, Hattie only smiled and the two women stood for a moment in silence, watching the crew as they efficiently performed their tasks on the deck below. “Daniel is not about.” Another bright glance from under Eugenie’s lashes.
“Perhaps he is tired.” Hattie wondered what his search had turned up, if anything. She was suddenly struck with how odd it was that Berry did not work for the British and apparently did not trust the British, but had nonetheless maneuvered to get British guards posted at the tomb.
“I think not—he is indefatigable.” Eugenie preened in a self-satisfied manner, implying a carnal relationship.
Nothing daunted, Hattie agreed with her own knowing smile.
Rather than annoyance, the other accepted the riposte with another trill of genuine laughter. “You are not at all English,” she declared, quirking a corner of her mouth.
Thinking of her parents’ shame, Hattie almost wished she weren’t. “And you—are you truly from Martinique?”
“Mais oui; although I am from everywhere, now.”
“I envy you,” Hattie said sincerely. “I have always longed to travel.”
Turning, the other girl regarded her. “Quant à ça, you have never been to Egypt?”
Hattie confessed, “I have never been anywhere. Except Paris, just now.”
“It was unnatural, yes, for your parents to behave as they did?”
Thinking this was not a subject she wished to discuss with Eugenie, Hattie simply replied, “They were dedicated to their work.” Thinking of their dedication reminded her of the golden disk, now firmly pinned to the inside of her shift. My wretched legacy, she thought with a twinge of revulsion. I don’t know why I longed for them so much—the god-king’s daughter was welcome to them.
Eugenie turned to view the shoreline as they passed. “Voyons; Saqqara is next, I think.”
Hattie stood on tiptoe in an attempt to view the ancient site as it came into view, but couldn’t see over the wheelhouse. “I cannot see—I shall have to walk to the bow.”
Eugenie smiled as she rested her gaze on the men below once again. “Indeed; you are très petite. Go, then.”
Berry does not mind that I am petite, thought Hattie as she made her way to the bow. And Eugenie is a minx; I wonder what her task is—he would not have brought her along, otherwise. Leaning over the rail, the weak breeze stirred her curls as Bing came to stand beside her.
“Saqqara,” Hattie pronounced—although she wouldn’t have had a clue if Eugenie hadn’t told her.
“Necropolis for Memphis, the ancient capital,” agreed Bing with satisfaction. “And I’m afraid you will be quite brown, Hathor.”
“I left my hat somewhere,” she confessed. “How does Mr. Hafez?”
“I am making casual inquiries about ancient Egyptian measurements.”
Hattie was impressed. “Excellent sleuthing, Bing.”
But her companion pursed her mouth for a moment, troubled. “Did Monsieur Berry indicate who would do such a thing—purloin your inheritance? Your parents certainly would not have stood for it.”
This was a good question, and of course Bing was unaware that her parents were capable of much worse. Stammering a bit, Hattie equivocated, “Monsieur Berry does not know the nature of the trove, Bing—only that there is one. Perhaps they were merely secreting funds because they could not visit their banking house regularly.”
“The whole thing may be a fish tale—a feint,” Bing warned. “Edward said your parents greatly enjoyed a joke; pray don’t get your hopes up.”
Hattie smiled to show she was not upset about the fanciful loss of her fanciful inheritance. “Even if that is the case, it is an interesting puzzle, and will keep us occupied for the journey.”
Bing nodded, somewhat reassured. “I will go below, if you do not mind, and make a note of what I have learned.”
“I will be down in short order to fetch my parasol.” Although truth to tell, Hattie much preferred the sun on her face—here was one advantage Egypt had over Cornwall. Standing again at the rail, Hattie leaned over to watch the barge cut through the wide river and then saw Robbie appear in her line of sight, smiling and holding her hat in one hand.
“Is this yours, Hattie?”
“It is—thank you for fetching it to me.” She dutifully tied the broad ribbon under her chin as he came to stand beside her, resting his elbows on the railing so that his height was nearly level with hers. “Don’t lose it in the river as you did at Truro.”