The wrong impression.
In consideration of Sir Reginald, who preferred ancient Egyptian ruins and most certainly was not the same sort as Brodie, I almost burst out laughing.
However, it did appear that I needed some assistance as I looked down. My shirtwaist was somewhat askew.
“Wot am I to do with a woman who canna even dress herself proper of a mornin’,” he commented as he crossed the office to where I stood.
His warm fingers brushed my skin as he unbuttoned my shirtwaist then realigned the buttons. I did have my own thoughts in the matter.
“I had not realized all the advantages,” I commented as I watched those strong fingers and other thoughts arose.
“Advantages?” he replied as he finished straightening my clothes.
“To having a man about…” I explained.
That dark gaze narrowed as he seized my coat and held it for me.
“Other than the obvious reasons, of course,” I added as I slipped through one arm, then the other, and smiled to myself at the softly muttered curse.
“Ye have no shame, woman.”
“Very little,” I replied. Most particularly, it seemed, when it came to Angus Brodie.
“This is most exciting!” Sir Reginald exclaimed after we arrived at the museum and found him in the Egyptian Hall— I did take a quick visual inventory to make certain that all the pieces on loan to my aunt had in fact been returned and now occupied their appropriate places.
“I spent most of the night going through the notes and the papyrus… magnificent, and such a find!” he went on almost beside himself.
His eyes closed much like someone enjoying a rare feast.
“You were able to make the translation?” I presumed.
“Oh my, yes.” He was quite ecstatic. So much so, that I thought he might become apoplectic.
“As I suspected, the papyrus are written in Coptic. What a discovery! This will enhance our understanding of the Egyptian culture. Imagine! Very near three thousand years old!”
“The translation, sir?” Brodie reminded him after I had made introductions.
“Of course. It’s just that discoveries like this so far are rare. Actual written text! And to have a manuscript like this… Do come along and I will explain.”
We followed him from the hall to his office.
It was much as I expected, having seen other such places in the museum. There were books lining the shelves, papers covering his desk, along with the manuscript I had asked him to translate, and…
Good heavens! A skull.
“This just arrived. I must often be both curator and archeologist.”
Obviously, by his adoration of the skull, he preferred the latter.
“The skull was detached from the rest of the skeleton. Most unfortunate. However in proximity and in remarkable good condition in consideration of the amount of time that has passed. It was quite well preserved, except for being detached that is.”
There was that, and I thought again of my preference for a Viking send off. Much simpler, and I wouldn’t have someone poking about my bones sometime in the future.
“The person whom the skeleton belonged to appears to have been someone of some significance,” he went on to explain about the discovery of the skeleton.
“There were ancient symbols etched into the stone covering his sarcophagus discovered at the temple at Edfu. Along with gold jewelry and a fascinating medallion, there were canopic jars that contained his heart and other organs.
I thought again of my preference, no jars for me with the thought that somefutureMr. Brimley might have my heart in a container on his shelf.
