Resolved, I lifted my gaze. "Very well. But don't you think it would be a good idea for me to show Miss Chittle around the museum so I can explain to her what I have been learning? That way, in addition to comportment and such, she'll know where to pick up in my studies?"
"I'm sure that's not necessary," Miss Chittle said quickly.
Grandmother waved her hand. "It can't hurt, and the admiral is still speaking with my son. So run along, but don't be too long."
I bobbed a curtsy at Grandmother, then turned to my new governess. "This way, Miss Chittle."
The woman sniffed, as if she really hadn't the time, but at least she followed. As we headed away from the front hall, my mind raced, trying to decide which of the exhibits I could use to shock her the most.
The answer was obvious: the ancient Egyptian exhibit, of course. Especially because the mummies already had her on edge. The Egyptian exhibit held many more gruesome delights to be explored. Plus, with any luck at all, she might be sensitive to the heavy, oppressive magic in the air.
I began outlining my education to date. "While I've spent most of my time on ancient Egypt," I said, "I have also done quite a bit with the classics: Rome and Greece, as well as a smattering of ancient Babylonia, Assyria, and Sumer."
"Hm," was all she said as her eyes skittered from here to there, trying to take in all the corners and shadows of the hallway.
I paused at the doorway to the ancient Greek and Roman exhibit. "Would you like to take a look at our classical collection?"
"Very well," she said primly.
I stood back so she could go into the room first. Her gaze fell immediately on a life-size statue of Adonis, who wasn't wearing so much as a fig leaf. She jerked back from the doorway, her cheeks flushed bright pink. "I think I've seen quite enough," she said.
Honestly. Just how silly can a grown woman be? Without meeting my eyes, she continued. "Do you have a ladies' withdrawing room here?"
"You mean a lavatory?"
"There's no need to be vulgar, but yes, that is what I mean."
"Of course. This way, please." She didn't say a word as I led her to the restroom on the main floor. Since she was so prim and proper, I decided to wait for her outside.
It takes a surprisingly long time for an overly proper governess to visit the lavatory. When she finally emerged, her cheeks were still pink (was she embarrassed, perhaps?) and her eyes looked a little bright. I caught a whiff of something. Careful to be discreet, I sniffed again. It smelled like ... sherry? But where would she have got hold of sherry? And at this hour! I knew for a fact there was none in the lavatory. Watching her more closely now, I asked, "May I show you the ancient Egyptian exhibit?"
"Yes, but only that. Then I think it will be time to go."
"Very well. This way, please." I led her from the main floor up to the third. On either side of us, statues of ancient Egyptian gods and pharaohs loomed. Isis emerged from behind one of the statues and began following us. I wondered how Miss Chittle felt about cats?
"Here," I said in my best museum-tour-guide voice, "is our most popular collection, ancient Egypt."
Miss Chittle stepped past me into the room. The electric lights flickered, and she flinched a bit. Of course, the lights did that all the time, but today the timing was perfect.
I led her to the large stone sarcophagus in the middle of the room. "This is the sarcophagus of an unknown priest from the Old Kingdom."
"A sarcophagus?" she repeated hollowly.
"Yes. A stone tomb. Where they placed dead bodies. Although the priest's mummy wasn't one of the ones downstairs. It wasn't in the sarcophagus when Mum found it."
Miss Chittle swallowed nervously, then glanced at me. "It wasn't?"
"No." I pointed to the empty wall behind her. "That's where the mummies normally go."
Miss Chittle put her hand to her mouth and stepped back. It was hard to tell in the flickering light, but she looked a bit pale. "H-how do you think they got downstairs?"
I shrugged. "We're not sure. Someone probably carried them down. They don't weigh much, you know. Nothing but dried-up husks. All the important parts were taken out. Some through their noses."
She looked at me with an expression of horror. I stepped closer. "Did you know that the embalmers removed the deceased's internal organs, including their brains, during the embalming process?"
She shook her head, stirring up a faint cloud of sherry fumes.
I warmed to my subject. "They inserted long hooks up their noses and pulled the brains out through the nostrils." I flared mine at her, just for emphasis.
Miss Chittle placed her hand briefly on her stomach, then turned her back to me. Craning my neck, I watched her remove a small silver flask from her purse. She lifted it to her lips and took a few swallows, daintily dabbing at the corner of her mouth when she was done. She slipped the flask back into her purse, then faced me again. "Medicine," she explained briskly, not meeting my eyes. "For my nerves."
I refrained from snorting, but just barely. "Over here," I continued, "are Canopic jars. They're where they stored the deceased's liver, lungs, intestines, and stomach."
Miss Chittle moved away sharply and bumped into the sarcophagus.
"Careful there," I said cheerfully.
A faint hint of panic sprang into her eyes. She whirled around and headed toward the wall on her left. "Oh." Her voice was unnaturally high. "Here's a charming statue. A cat."
"Uh, no. That's not a statue. That's my cat, and she doesn't like to be—"
My words were cut off as Isis arched her back, hissed, then took a vicious swipe at Miss Chittle's gloved hand.
"—touched by strangers," I finished.
Miss Chittle squealed and jerked her hand back. Without another word, she lifted her skirts and ran from the room.
I looked back at Isis, who now sat as calmly as you please, licking her paw. "You didn't like her either, I take it?"
Ignoring me, Isis leaped off the column and streaked toward a floorboard in the far corner. Another mouse, probably. Well, she'd done her good turn for the day. I supposed she'd earned a hunting break.
Before I had a chance to dwell on my victory, Father's voice cut through the museum. "Theodosia Elizabeth Throckmorton! Get down here this instant!"
Oh dear. Time to face the music.
Reluctantly, I headed for the stairs. I wasn't dawdling. Not exactly. Just giving Father a bit of time to calm down.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A Long Shot
THERE WAS A SMALL CROWD IN THE FOYER—all waiting for me, apparently. Admiral Sopcoate was holding Miss Chittle's coat for her and she was trying to shove her arm into the sleeve—only, she was shaking so badly, she kept missing. "You didn't tell me the girl was mad as a hatter!" she said, making a final stab with her arm and managing to get it into the sleeve this time.
"Really, she's not mad, just very high spirited," Father said. I was heartened by his loyal support of me.
"Nonsense," Grandmother harrumphed. "The girl has far too much freedom, and her head has been stuffed with so much ridiculous learning as to make her useless."
Before Grandmother could get on a roll cataloging all of my faults, I interrupted her.
"Perhaps Miss Chittle should have some more of her medicine," I suggested sweetly.
Isis rubbed up against my ankles, but I kept my attention fixed on Miss Chittle as all the blood drained from her face. I felt a small twinge of guilt, but she did want me removed from the museum, something too dangerous to contemplate.