Lady of Heaven (2 page)

He shook his head. “No need.”

With some uncertainty, she
carefully set the briefcase down and began to unfasten it.

“Seriously,” she said quietly as
she unfastened the ties. “I really want to thank you for your time. Maybe this
is nothing at all, but given my great-grandparents’ history in Egypt, I really
can’t be sure. I thought I’d better show it to an expert before I did anything
with it.”

Fox sat back in his chair,
alternately watching her face and her slim, lovely fingers as she messed around
with the briefcase. He noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, which
thrilled him. More than that, he was seriously trying not to gawk at the woman
because it would have been damn easy.  He was captivated by the pouty, lush
lips and long-lashed brown eyes. So he labored to switch his focus to the
business at hand.

“No problem,” he replied. “But why
me?”

She paused, looking rather confused
by the question. When she answered, it was almost in the form of a question,
like he was trying to trick her. “Because you were the closest.”

“Closest to what? Your location?
You’re not British.”

She smiled weakly, flashing great
big dimples in both cheeks. “No, I’m not,” she finished with the fastens and
opened the top of the case. “When I called to set up this meeting, I explained
everything to your assistant. Didn’t she tell you?”

Fox was fascinated with the
dimples. “She did, but all I remember is that you found whatever this is when
you were cleaning out your great-grandmother’s house.”

Morgan nodded, carefully easing
back the top of the case. “Sorry,” she said apologetically. “I didn’t want to
waste your time with a big explanation if you already knew the story.”

“Tell me.”

“Well,” she cocked her head,
looking at whatever it was in the case. “My great-grandfather passed away in
June and my mother and I were cleaning out the house and came across a lot of
Egyptian artifacts.”

Fox lifted an eyebrow. “A lot of
Egyptian artifacts?”

She nodded. “I know it sounds
crazy, but there’s a room in their house with a bunch of Egyptian relics in it.
My great-grandparents were quite the collectors.”

Fox sat forward in his chair and
waved his hands at her. “Let’s start from the beginning here,” he told her,
indicating the chair. “You need to sit down and tell me everything from the
start.  Doesn’t your family own Heaven’s Gate Manor?”

Morgan did what she was told and
planted her bottom back on the chair; Dr. Henredon had a manner about him that
suggested complete obedience was wise. Besides, she didn’t want to offend the
man since she was here soliciting his pro bono opinion.  She took a deep breath
to slow her rush.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized yet
again. “It’s just that I know you’re really busy, I’m really busy, and I’m
trying to get through all of this before I have to leave for home next week, so
I’m just kind of rushing around like a chicken with its head cut off. “

He regarded her a moment; it seemed
all he was doing was regarding her. “Where’s home?”

The man had amazingly intense
eyes.  There was warmth there and interest, but there was also hardness and
doubt. She could sense it.

“Los Angeles,” she told him. Then
she full-on smiled, a flashy brilliant smile with big baby-doll dimples in both
cheeks. “Couldn’t you tell? Don’t I talk like a movie star?”

He met her grin, his teeth straight
and white teeth with a slightly impish tilt to his lips. “Sure you do,” he
replied. “And you look like one, too.”

She smiled bashfully, a very lovely
smile that had Fox utterly captivated. “I’ll bet you say that to all of the
Americans.”

He snorted. “Hardly,” he replied.
“At least not the ones I know. I’ve never been to Los Angeles. I’d like to go
someday.”

“If you do, don’t miss Disneyland
or the Hollywood Strip,” she gave him some quick advice before veering back to
the subject at hand; Dr. Henredon’s compliment had her off balance somewhat.
“Anyway, like I said, my great-grandfather passed away in June.  My grandmother
and grandfather are too old to really do any good, so the duty of cleaning out
the manor house fell to my mom and me. My great-grandparents were avid
collectors of Egyptian artifacts and since you’re the department head for
Egyptian Collection at the Bolton Museum, I thought you’d be the person to ask
about the authenticity of the relics.”

Fox watched her as she spoke, both
because he was fascinated with the shape of her mouth and also because he was
digesting her words.  He wanted to slip another well-timed compliment into the
conversation but he wasn’t sure she was too receptive given how she had dodged
his first one. When she was finished, he nodded faintly.

“Heaven’s Gate is a very old
estate,” he replied, eyeing the now-open case. “I have also heard that your
great-grandparents were friends with the Barlows who founded the Bolton
Museum.”

Morgan nodded.  “They were. My
great-grandmother, the Lady Frances de Lara Sherburn, was a friend of Annie
Barlow. Annie was the daughter of the founder.”

“I know who she is,” he was looking
up at her now, studying her face, and there seemed to be something on his
mind.  He gestured at the case. “You said that there is an entire room full of
Egyptian artifacts?”

She nodded. “Actually, it’s the
library, but it has a lot of artifacts in it.”

“And you only brought me one thing
to authenticate?” He scratched his dark head, puzzlement evident in his
expression. “Pardon me for asking, but if you’ve got an entire room full of
artifacts, why bring me just one?”

Morgan’s pleasant expression seemed
to tighten.  “Excuse me?”

His dark eyes glittered.  “You
heard me; why bring me just one? What’s so special about it?”

She held his gaze for a long moment
before looking away, clearing her throat softly.  She suddenly seemed ill at
ease and Fox watched her, growing more curious, and interested, by the moment.

“Because,” she said quietly.
“Because… well, it seems to be one of the nicest pieces and my
great-grandfather had a handwritten note attached to it that called it the Lady
of Heaven papyrus.  I thought maybe it was important and if it is, perhaps you
could tell us what we should do with it.  Perhaps you could even translate it.”

His brow furrowed. “
Translate
it?” he shook his head. “That will take a lot of time.  If you want to donate
it to the museum, then of course we would translate it, but if you want me to
translate it right now off the cuff, then I’m sorry to disappoint you. I don’t
have the time.”

“But it’s not that big of a
scroll,” she insisted, gesturing to the document lying flat and exposed in the
artwork case. “It shouldn’t be too hard for a man of your expertise. I’ve read
about you, Dr. Henredon; you’re one of the best.  I’ve read about the awards
you’ve won and that fact that you’re a director at a major museum and not even
forty years old says a lot.  If you could only look at it, maybe you can tell
me what it says.”

He sat forward, eyes on Morgan as he
folded his big hands on the desk top.  “Is that really why you came?” he asked
her “You want me to translate this?”

Morgan appeared as if she’d been
cornered as the truth of her visit began to slip out. She thought she’d been
fairly clever at hiding it up until now. “I thought… well, I thought maybe in
the course of examining it that you might… you could… just a few words….”

He sighed and shook his head.
“Sorry,” he said, his tone professional. “I can’t translate it for you, at
least not today.  If that’s really what you came here for them I am sorry to
have wasted your time. Perhaps you should have been honest when you called and
saved us both the time and trouble.”

Morgan stared at him. She appeared
as if she wanted to say a lot more but thought better of it.  After a moment,
she lowered her gaze and reached for her enormous purse.  As Fox watched, she
reached in and pulled forth something that he first thought was a book.  Then
she turned it in his direction and he could see that it was a very old album,
like one would use for photographs. He could see the leather binding and the
careful stitching, made in days when craftsmanship meant something.  It was
worn and dog-eared and she sat for a moment with it in her lap, looking at it. 
Fox’s curiosity grew as she fingered it carefully before finally daring to look
at him.

She opened her mouth to speak but
ended up sighing heavily. Then she collected herself and tried again.

“Look,” she said, her voice soft.
“I wasn’t trying to lie when I set up this meeting but I thought if I came out
with everything right off the bat that you would never meet with me. And I
really need help with this, if not from you than from someone else who knows
about Egyptology.  I’ve got a situation on my hands that I just can’t figure
out.  I really need answers.”

He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Answers
to what?”

She lifted the album, gesturing at
it. “This.”

She stood up and walked around his
desk. Fox watched her as she came to stand next to him, sweet wafts of her
perfume assaulting his senses. She smelled as good as she looked and he was
thinking of telling her that but he bit his tongue; he didn’t think she would
take it well if he was complimenting her in one breath and rejecting her in the
next. He decided it was best to lay off the charm. His observations were
interrupted as she set the album carefully on the desk and opened it.

“This is my great-grandmother’s
journal,” she said softly. “She began keeping one when she and my
great-grandfather traveled to Egypt for the first time.  She was so young, only
eighteen, and this journal starts just after she and my great-grandfather were
married.  If nothing else, this journal is a remarkable account of early Egypt
and how the wealthy British viewed it.   She met so many amazing people like
Lord Carnarvon and Howard Carter. All of the adventure, her hopes and dreams
and feelings, are on these pages.”

Fox tore his gaze away from her
long enough to glance at the time-worn pages of the journal.  There was careful
script accompanied by trinkets; luggage stickers, a boat ticket to Cairo, a
receipt for a room reservation at the Winter Palace Hotel in Luxor, and other
remnants of a bygone era of exploration and travel. In just those first few
moments, he was hooked; he hated to admit it, but he was. Mementoes like this
were rare and, as a historian, he valued them. Without even asking, he
carefully turned the pages.

Sketches jumped out at him of the
Valley of the Kings before it became commercial. Lady Frances had even sketched
the great statues of Memnon, as they were known back then, and there was a
sketch of the sphinx decades before the sand would be cleared away from its
base.  As Fox skimmed the first few pages, he could see that every day was
carefully documented, if even only in a few words, but Lady Frances Sherburn
had been meticulous in her record keeping.  When he flipped a page and a few
grains of sand fell into his lap, the significance of the journal weighed more
heavily upon him.

Morgan stood back and watched him
inspect the book, reading the passages and carefully touching the mementos. 
The journal had worked the magic she had hoped; she had his interest. But what
she still needed was his help.

From what she had read about Dr.
Fox Henredon, he was something of a whiz kid. True, she’d brought the papyrus
to the Bolton because it was close to Heaven’s Gate, but she had also done her
research on the person she needed to speak with.  The go-to guy had been
Henredon and it had been her intention since walking in the door earlier to
hook him. The journal had been the key;
come into my web said the spider to
the fly
, she thought.

Her gaze moved over the man as he
put his reading glasses on to scrutinize a particular passage that was faded
from time; as she’d noted before, he was very big and very beautiful, certainly
not the bookworm she had expected.  Quietly, she moved back to the guest chair
and reclaimed it, sitting silent and still as Fox perused the journal,
lingering over the faded pages that had seen dust and sandstorms in the days
when Egypt was still mysterious and ancient. Morgan’s eyes never left his
face.  When Fox finally looked up at her, it was with wonder.

“Your great-grandmother knew Howard
Carter on a first-name basis,” he said, stunned. “She was on-hand when he was
clearing out Tut’s tomb. She writes about visiting the dig when they were removing
the artifacts.”

Morgan smiled faintly. “I know,”
she replied. “I read that, too. Pretty amazing.”

Fox shook his head, half in
agreement, half in wonder.  His gaze returned to the journal for a moment
longer before finally removing his glasses.

“Amazing, yes,” he agreed, looking
at her. “But what does this journal have to do with the papyrus?”

The smile faded from Morgan’s lush
lips and the dimples vanished. She stood up and rounded the desk again, taking
hold of the journal and carefully thumbing through it until she came to the
last page that had any manner of writing on it.  She opened the book,
displaying the pages fully; on the right hand page was a massive brown stain
with streaks all the way off the page.  The page itself was warped as a result.
Something wet had been spilled on the page, had run and finally dried, leaving
the warped paper.

“See that stain?” she asked.

He glanced at it. “I do.”

She could see that he wasn’t
particularly concerned with it so she decided to throw caution to the wind and
tell him everything at this point. She reckoned that she had nothing to lose;
she had his interest. Now was the time to spring the rest of it.

“You need to read her entire
journal, Dr. Henredon, to see what a truly remarkable woman my
great-grandmother was,” she said frankly. “She and my grandfather were two of
the great explorers of early Egyptian studies.  They would comb the Cairo
bazaar for ancient artifacts and maps, getting to know the locals to find out
where the tombs and monuments were located.  If you read these pages, then you
see that they would find ancient places to study them; not plunder, but study. 
They wanted to understand the history of Egypt to enrich their knowledge, not
necessarily to amass wealth although they do have a significant collection. 
But it seems to me that the collection was their way of preserving something
they’d come to love very much; Egypt and its people.  They didn’t do it to
boast about it or to sell it for gain.  They did it to save it.”