Devil May Care Read Free Page A

resemblance--of a schoolteacher he had once had, an outspoken old termagant who had terrified him.
    "Henry?" Kate said, extending a small ugly hand-- calloused, square-fingered, covered with a network of half-healed scratches. The questioning tone in her voice implied that she was hoping against hope the answer would be No.
    "And you're Aunt Kate," Henry said heartily. "I hope you don't mind my calling you that; after all, I'm almost one of the family. And I feel I know you, Ellie has spoken so often about you--" "Lies," Kate said. "All lies."
    She turned to Ellie. They did not embrace; instead they stood grinning foolishly at one another. For a moment the resemblance was uncanny, and all to Kate's advantage. Her blue eyes danced and her face looked softer and younger.
    "It's been a long time," she said, and smiled even more broadly, as if the triteness of the phrase pleased her.
    "You're pretty good," Ellie said. "Since when have you taken up Scottish dancing?"
    "Last month. The reels are not coming too well.
    Ted is in rotten shape and he won't exercise." Kate cast a critical glance at the man in the skirt. Henry still had not accustomed himself to her voice, which was too low and too deep and far too emphatic for her small frame. She couldn't be five feet tall ... DEVIL-MAY-CARE 13
    "Leave the luggage for now," she ordered--most of her remarks sounded like orders, whether they were meant that way or not. "You can unpack later.
    I need a drink. Ted wears me out; he's so inept." "Delightful suggestion," Henry said heartily. "You and I are going to be pals, Aunt Kate."
    Kate turned and gave him a long, thoughtful look.
    Ted struggled to his feet as they approached, and Kate, without stopping, threw a casual introduction over her shoulder.
    "Willoughby, Eraser. You remember Ellie, Ted." "Indeed I do," said Ted. He might have traded voices with Kate, to the benefit of both. His was highpitched and drawling, with an affected stress on the vowels. He was a tall man, a little flabby around the middle, but otherwise in excellent condition for his apparent age. On closer inspection the garment that covered his lower torso seemed to be a kilt rather than a skirt, but Henry had no doubt as to Ted's nature. The way he stood, with one hand on his hip ... He nodded coolly to Ted, who nodded back at him without enthusiasm, and followed his hostess into the house.
    There he found himself confronting a suit of armor that appeared to be about to topple off its pedestal on top of him. Henry stepped back and stared.
    The rest of the decor went with the armor. The hall was determinedly medieval, from the flagstone floor to the oak-beamed ceiling. The furniture was scanty, but one piece caught Henry's calculating eye--a long, low chest, intricately carved. Sixteenth century, at the latest, he thought. It could not be a reproduction.
    The blackened, satiny surface was the product of centuries of use. It must be worth at least ... And the tapestry over the chest looked like one he had seen in a museum somewhere, with unicorns and ladies in pointed hats enveloped in a misty green twilight.
    As he followed Kate through room after room, he
    14 Elizabeth Peters had the feeling that he had stumbled into a museum.
    The drawing room was a pleasant relief to the eyes after the gloomy bareness of the hall; long windows let in a flood of sunlight that warmed the Aubusson carpet, the rosewood piano, and the eighteenth- century furniture.
    The next room was a library. The decor here was Gothic. A massive stone fireplace occupied one entire end of the room. The other three sides were filled with books. A gallery, with more bookshelves, ran around the upper portion of the room, reached by a curving wrought-iron staircase. The high ceiling was beamed, gilded, carved, and painted to a dizzying degree.
    Finally Kate opened a door at the end of a long corridor.
    "My workroom."
    The room was enormous--thirty by fifty feet at the least. There was another fireplace,