Bella and the Beast (19 page)

“I would like to identify all of the items in this room,” she told the Egyptian. “Do you know if there are files somewhere describing them? Or paperwork relating to the expedition? Surely someone must have written out notes or lists before the articles were shipped to England.”

Hasani gave her a keen look. “Have you not checked the archives, then?”

“Are you referring to the place where the duke keeps the papyri?” Bella asked cautiously. “I was told not to enter there for fear of damaging the ancient documents.”

“No, there is another chamber. Come, I will be happy to escort you there. If now is a convenient time, that is.”

“Of course! That would be perfect.”

As she fell into step beside him and they went out into the grand passageway, Bella couldn't believe her luck. Her hunch had proven correct. The map didn't necessarily have to be stored with the papyri. It might just as easily be tucked in with old notes and shipping lists. And since Miles had not forbidden her to enter the archives room, she would be free to search to her heart's content.

All of a sudden, she realized they were approaching the arched entry to the west wing. Her steps faltered and Hasani looked inquiringly at her. “Is aught amiss?” he asked.

“I'm afraid His Grace may not approve of me entering his private quarters.”

Hasani gave her a slight smile. “Then you will be relieved to know that the archives room is right here.”

He proceeded a few more steps to a closed door directly opposite the entry to the west wing. Wrapping his fingers around the brass handle, he swung open the white wood panel and politely allowed her to precede him through the doorway.

Bella walked inside to find herself in a long chamber as large and spacious as the blue drawing room. Murals of cavorting nymphs and satyrs decorated the high ceiling, and panels in shades of green and gold covered the walls. Clearly, the space had once been used as some sort of reception room under previous dukes.

Sunshine poured through the tall windows and illuminated the many rows of dark oak cabinetry. So this was where the Egyptian archives were kept, she thought in rising excitement. All of the paperwork related to the long-ago expedition to the Valley of the Kings had been filed right here. There appeared to be quite a lot of drawers, enough to keep her busy for days. Why had she not thought of asking about the records sooner?

Then she noticed that the chamber was divided into two distinct areas. The filing cabinets took up only half the space. The other half, at the far end of the room, had open shelves stacked with numerous long packages that appeared to be wrapped in strips of linen. One of the swathed bundles had been propped upright within a man-sized casket. Its form was eerily human.

Her heart jumped. Were those … mummies? The swaddled remains of ancient pharaohs?

She was about to ask Hasani when he abruptly pushed past her without an apology. His attention was fixed on something beyond her, and an icy mask of fury had replaced his pleasant expression. The sudden ferocity of his countenance chilled her to the bone.

What had wrought the change in him?

In a whirl of white robes, the Egyptian flew toward the far end of the chamber, and Bella felt compelled to follow. She quickly realized what Hasani had seen.

In front of one of the windows, a man was leaning over a wooden table on which lay one of the mummies. He was slowly unwrapping the linen strips that bound the body. Bella recognized his balding head and stocky form, the ill-fitting brown coat and sloppy trousers.

Mr. William Banbury-Davis.

“Stop!” Hasani commanded. “Stop what you are doing at once!”

Banbury-Davis lifted his head, annoyance on his bulldog face. He brandished a pair of shiny tweezers in one hand. “Why the devil are you shouting?” Then he glanced at Bella and gave her a brief, disgruntled nod. “Miss Jones.”

His fists clenched at his sides, Hasani stalked straight to him. “You are not to unwrap any of these mummies unless
I
am present to supervise.”

“Oh, bosh. I'm the scholar here, not you. Besides, Aylwin has granted me permission to work in this room for a few days.”

Hasani stared coldly at him. “You have misunderstood, then. His Grace would never cede my right to oversee the process. These are sacred remains and they must be blessed before being unwrapped.”

Banbury-Davis grunted a sound of skepticism. “What, do you fear the consequences if you fail to mutter your mumbo jumbo over it? As if Ra or Anubis might curse us all!”

“Perhaps you would prefer that I summon the duke to determine which of us has authority here.”

The two men stared at each other for a few moments. Dust motes danced in a beam of sunshine, a benign contrast to the palpable tension in the air. Then Banbury-Davis tossed down the tweezers and stepped back. “Just get it over with, then. And for pity's sake, don't take all day.”

The Egyptian stepped forward and placed both of his hands, palms down, over the wrapped face of the mummy. Bella watched in fascination as Hasani bowed from the waist in a pose of supplication. With his head bent, she could clearly view the stylistic eye tattooed on the back of his neck. But she couldn't quite make out the words he spoke, foreign words uttered in a musical murmur.

A little shiver raced over her skin. She was reminded of an image she'd seen chiseled on a granite stela in the ballroom, the depiction of a religious ceremony with a pharaoh. Hasani might have been an Egyptian priest performing an ancient ritual.

*   *   *

Many hours later, trudging up the staircase to the east wing, Bella felt pleasantly weary. She had enjoyed a productive day in the drawing room and had worked late, forced to stop only by the loss of light at dusk. In her arm, she carried a sheaf of papers from the archives.

After the brief altercation with William Banbury-Davis, and the subsequent blessing of the mummy, Hasani had grown calmer. He had regained his natural friendliness and had escorted her to the section of cabinetry that contained the shipping lists. He had gathered the appropriate papers for her and then shut the drawer. Having no excuse to linger, she'd left him and Mr. Banbury-Davis to their work.

Bella fully intended to return to the archives in the dark of night. She itched to conduct a thorough search through all of the records. And she certainly didn't wish to do so under the watchful eyes of Hasani or Mr. Banbury-Davis.

Or the Duke of Aylwin.

Reaching her floor, she started down the long, shadowed corridor. Twilight shrouded the windows at either end, but she could still see her way through the gloom. As she walked, a sense of isolation settled over her. How peculiar to reside in the same house with Miles and yet not encounter him the entire day. She had not seen him since the previous afternoon when he had pressed her up against the wall and told her how much he burned for her.

The memory caused a throb of pleasure deep inside of her. She didn't understand how he could have such a powerful effect on her. He was far too domineering and forceful. Yet he had given way to her wish to reorganize the artifacts. He had even gifted her with the white silk on which to display the scarabs. And he had agreed not to seduce her without her consent.

Not that she would ever grant him such permission, of course, for nothing could come of this attraction she felt for him. He would never offer marriage, and she would never allow him to ravish her. If he was expecting her to initiate their next kiss, he'd have to wait until he was as ancient as those mummies in the archives.

No, she must concentrate on finding the map. Then she could claim her half of the pharaoh's treasure from Miles, go home to Oxford, and resume her quiet life with Lila and Cyrus. All of the wild, inappropriate passions inside her would soon be forgotten …

Nearing the door to her bedchamber, Bella suddenly spied a movement in the gloom ahead. A wraithlike figure flitted through the shadows at the end of the passageway.

It hovered there for a moment, whitish and insubstantial. A faint unearthly moaning drifted down the corridor. Then the figure glided onward and vanished as swiftly as it had appeared.

Bella stopped dead and blinked. Gooseflesh prickled down her spine. What had she just seen? Nan had claimed this floor was haunted, but Bella had scoffed at the notion of ghosts.

She still scoffed. This apparition had looked like a person. A maid in her white apron, perhaps? No, Bella had had the impression of a pale, hooded robe.

Only one person in the household wore robes. But why would he moan like that? Why not come forward and greet her?

Perplexed, she hastened toward the place where the figure had been. She looked around and spied a door at the end of a short passageway. There was nowhere else that a flesh-and-blood person could have gone to hide. Marching forward, she opened the door to peer into the blackness of a small staircase used by the servants.

“Hasani?” she called. “Are you there?”

Only the echo of her voice answered. Silence hung heavy, as thick and dense as fog. No tapping of footsteps gave evidence to the presence of any servant.

Disquiet raised the hairs at the back of her neck. Bella had the uncanny sense of being watched by someone in that stygian darkness. She craved to know who it was. But without a candle, she might stumble and fall. By the time she returned with one, whoever it was would be long gone.

Still holding the sheaf of papers, she walked slowly back to her bedchamber. One thing was certain. She had not been dreaming. Someone had been there. Someone had moaned, too, then had deliberately hidden himself from her.

It was almost as if the unknown person had
wanted
to frighten her.

 

Chapter 15

Nan was kneeling in front of the hearth, her mobcapped head bent almost to the floor as she blew on the glowing coals on the grate. Spying Bella entering the bedchamber, she hopped up and curtsied. “'Evenin', miss. There's a bit of a chill in here, so I thought ye might like a fire. I brung yer supper, too.”

“Thank you.” Bella laid down the papers on the bedside table, on top of the book about Egypt that she'd borrowed from the library. In the cheery brightness of the room, the spectral figure at the end of the corridor seemed less disturbing. Surely there was a logical explanation. “Did anyone come here looking for me a short while ago?”

“Why, no, miss. I been here this past quarter hour, turnin' down yer bed and lightin' the candles and the fire. Was ye expectin' a visitor?”

“Not really. I thought perhaps Hasani might have dropped off some papers, that's all. It isn't important.”

So the robed apparition could not be explained by so simple a means, Bella thought as she went into the dressing room to wash away the dust of the day's work. It was probably nothing more than a servant. She wouldn't waste another moment fretting over it. Better she should turn her mind to the expedition into the archives tonight.

She scrubbed her hands with a cake of lavender soap. As before, she would wait until past nine o'clock. Even though Miles hadn't forbidden her to go into that room, it would be best not to encounter him in the corridors. She had already ascertained from talking to the servants that he usually retreated to the west wing after dark to work in his study before retiring for the night.

Bella dried her hands on a linen towel. One problem nagged at her. Somehow, she needed to return the little packet of letters that Papa had written to the Marquess of Ramsgate. Sooner or later Miles would realize they were missing, and he was sure to guess who had taken them. The last thing she wanted was to give him a reason to seek her out. Especially since their last two encounters had resulted in kisses and flirting that had stirred the untamed sensual desires inside her …

Bella went back out into the bedchamber, intending to tuck the little packet of letters into her pocket. If the opportunity arose, she would slip them back into the storeroom and no one would be the wiser. Keeping the letters made her feel like a thief. They surely had a special meaning to Miles, or he wouldn't have saved them all these years. They were probably a reminder of her father's treachery, but she liked to think that perhaps he'd wanted to preserve the happy memories, too.

Opening the drawer to the bedside table, she reached into the shadowy interior. But the space was empty. She brought a candle closer and stooped down to see only the bare wood interior.

The packet of letters was gone.

*   *   *

At precisely nine-thirty, Bella slipped into the archives and quietly shut the door. The room was pitch-dark save for the lighted taper in her hand. She looked around for a table on which to set the candlestick. Since the front half of the chamber held only rows of cabinetry, she proceeded to the back section.

There, shadows cloaked the numerous mummies that rested on the wall shelves. The sight that had stirred only scientific interest in her during the daylight hours now raised an uneasy quiver in her. She scoffed at the involuntary reaction. It was strange to come here at night when no one else was around, that was all.

The only table present was the one on which lay the mummy that Mr. Banbury-Davis had been unwrapping. He had not completed the process, and a cloth had been draped over the upper portion of the body.

Bella walked slowly forward. Compelled by curiosity, she grasped the square of pale linen and lifted it. A shriveled face stared back at her, the eyelids sunken over empty sockets, dried flesh clinging to the nose and cheeks, and yellowed teeth visible between withered lips.

She dropped the cloth back into place and took a deep breath. How silly to feel unsettled by the sight. As Papa always said, the dead could do no harm. The table was long, and she could work at the other end of it. Yet she balked at the notion of sharing space with a long-dead Egyptian.

Feeling a trifle foolish, Bella retreated to the cabinets and set the candlestick on the floor. Then she opened one of the file drawers and removed a thick stack of papers. Sinking down, she sat cross-legged on the wood floor, her skirts tucked beneath her as she began the task of examining the documents by the light of the candle.