Fagenbush? Hardly. I spent quite a bit of energy trying to avoid our Second Assistant Curator whenever possible. "No, Father. Can't say as I have."
"Well, if you do, let him know I'm looking for him."
Was Fagenbush in trouble? One could always hope. But I didn't have time for such happy thoughts right then. As Father disappeared down the hall, I stepped into the lavatory, nearly dancing with impatience as I waited for the water to fill the vessel. Once it was full, I raced back to the stairs, praying I wouldn't run into Father or—worse—Fagenbush. As I reached the top step, Isis gave a bloodcurdling yeowl. Certain the jackal had her clamped in his jaws, I tore down the stairs, taking them two at a time.
I found Anubis with his shoulders wedged between the wall and the sarcophagus, scrabbling madly for Isis, who was emitting low, deep warbles of fury.
Keeping one eye on the jackal, I dumped some of the salt into the water, then swirled the vessel around to mix it up.
The jackal yelped as Isis's claws made contact with his nose, but he didn't retreat. He bared his teeth at her and growled low in his throat.
Afraid to wait too much longer, I took three large strides toward the jackal, then dumped the water over his head, thoroughly drenching him.
The jackal snarled, then raised his muzzle to snap at me. But it was too late.
As the water trickled down his body, he began to harden, his live flesh turning back into hard stone piece by piece, until, with one last mournful yip, he was once again a statue.
My shoulders slumped in relief, and Isis stopped her caterwauling. Cautiously, she crept out from her hiding spot and drew closer to the frozen jackal. She sniffed at it, then gave it a vicious swipe with her paw. Take that, wretched statue, I thought as my heart quit trying to pound it's way out of my chest.
"Theodosia!" a voice called from the top of the stairs.
"Yes, Mother?"
"Did I hear a dog down there?"
Bother! "Uh, no, Mother. Just me. Playing with Isis."
"By acting like a dog?" She sounded truly puzzled.
"Well, er, I was training her to defend herself. Against a dog."
"But we have no dogs in the museum."
"I know, but in case she should ever encounter one."
There was a long pause. Finally Mother called down again. "Theodosia?"
"Yes, Mother?"
"It would be best if you didn't mention that game to your father, all right, dear?"
"Whatever you say."
"Excellent. Now come along. Your grandmother's arrived with a new governess in tow." Mum's voice was falsely cheerful, as if she could jolly me into believing this was a good thing. "She's waiting in the sitting room, and I'm leaving right now for a meeting with the board of the Royal Archaeological Society. Your father's in his office. She's asked to see him, too."
"But Mother, do you have to go?" It was much safer to face Grandmother in large numbers.
"Yes, I really must. Duty calls. Goodbye, my darling!" Then there was the rapid click of her heels on the marble as she made her escape, no doubt from the back door where she could be sure to avoid Grandmother.
With a sigh of frustration, I replaced the vessel on the table and made a mental note to be sure to rinse the salt water out of it when I got back. I would also need to be sure to wash all the salt from the Anubis statue later. But for now, I had a grandmother to confront.
When I reached the top of the landing, I heard voices coming from Father's office. I thought Grandmother was in the sitting room, but perhaps she had gone into Father's office looking for us. I headed in that direction but quickly realized that although one of the voices was Father's, the other voice was most definitely not Grandmother's.
"But I have all the same qualifications that Bollingsworth had."
It was Fagenbush. And I must say, I'd never heard him sound so petulant.
"I know you're disappointed, Clive, but I think it's for the best," Father replied. "Bollingsworth had a few more years' experience than you do," he explained.
Bollingsworth. Just hearing that name made me shudder in revulsion. Father didn't know that the former First Assistant Curator had been a traitor. I wondered how much of Bollingsworth's experience had been gained while working for the Serpents of Chaos?
"You are very talented at what you do," Father continued. "But you are quite young still, and I think a few years' more polish and maturity will serve you well. Now, I must go. I have someone waiting." Father stepped out into the hall and spied me. "Oh, there you are! I was just coming to fetch you. Your grandmother is here."
"Yes. I know." Miserably uncomfortable, I stared at the floor and tried not to look at Fagenbush. But I could feel him staring sharp, pointy daggers at me, and almost against my will, I found myself looking up.
Pure hatred flashed in his eyes. There was no question—Fagenbush knew I'd overheard the whole thing. And he would never forgive me for it.
CHAPTER FOUR
Miss Sneath
FATHER BID HIS MOTHER A QUICK HELLO, then hurried off, claiming he had an applicant waiting for him. Honestly! I couldn't believe that both my parents were abandoning me like this. Didn't they realize facing Grandmother Throckmorton was just as perilous as being stuck in a tomb in the Valley of the Kings? Of course, then they'd been willing to step in and save me, but now, when I truly needed them, they ran.
I squared my shoulders and entered the sitting room. Grandmother looked especially fierce in her iron gray gown. Her beakish nose made her look like a bird of prey getting ready to pounce. Next to her sat a severe-looking woman with a large jutting chin and small almond-shaped eyes. Her hair was scraped back so tightly against her head that it pulled her eyes back to a painful-looking slant.
"Well, don't just stand there dawdling," Grandmother scolded. "Come over so I can introduce you. Miss Sneath, this is Theodosia. The child has had a most appalling education, which needs to be corrected immediately." She sniffed.
Then she sniffed again. "Do I smell wet dog?"
"Wet dog?" I repeated. Bother. Wet jackal, yes, but wet dog, no. "Perhaps it's Miss Sneath's coat?" I nodded toward the brown woolen coat that had been laid on the back of a chair.
"Certainly not!" Miss Sneath said, scandalized.
Even so, I gave her my best curtsy and brightest smile. In spite of what grownups think, I do try to get off on the right foot. Most of the time. "How do you do, Miss Sneath? What sorts of things shall you be teaching me?"
"First," she said, with a rigid set to her jaw, "I shall teach you to mind your place and manners. Then I shall teach you the sorts of things a young English lady should know, not the frippery your grandmother tells me you've been studying."
Showing admirable restraint, I narrowly kept from pointing out that Mother and Father might take exception to their life's work being referred to as frippery.
Miss Sneath set her small brown satchel on the table, then pulled out a thick book and a ruler. She placed the ruler on the table in front of her, then shifted in her seat. There was no chair for me, so I remained standing. "One of the first things I do with any new pupil is test her existing knowledge so I can see how much catching up we must do." She opened her book.
"How many continents are there?" she barked, making me jump.
"Six," I barked back. "Seven if you count North America and South America as two separate continents."
She rapped her ruler on the table. "No impertinence will be tolerated!"
"I'm sorry, Miss Sneath. I wasn't trying to be impertinent. Only thorough."
"How many oceans are there?"
"Five."
"What is the capital of Burma?"
"I'm not sure. I do know the capitals of the ancient Babylonian, Assyrian, and Egyptian empires, however."