Death Among the Ruins Read Online Free

tea. “Let’s see . . . when was it? ’78? Yes; ’78 to ’79. I went over with the Bishop of Derry. Saw Pompeii, and the Portici Palace . . . I met Piranesi, you know. Dear me! All those P s! I’m afraid I must answer a call of nature, now! Power of suggestion, I suppose. If you don’t mind waiting a moment, I shall shew you something of interest when I return. . . .”
    He was gone for some little time, and came back with a fragment of painted plaster.
    “This comes from a Pompeian wall fresco! I liberated it when no one was looking,” he said, handing it to her.
    Arabella admired the scrap, which shewed the tip of a green branch against a pale yellow wall, and a blue smear, which might have been the sea in the distance.
    “Have you been to Herculaneum, as well?” she asked.
    “No. There wasn’t time, and the roads were very bad. Still are, I understand. But Miss Beaumont, I must protest this! You are proposing to go to a foreign country, where you do not speak the language, in quest of a thing you have not seen, removed by persons unknown to you from a place you have never been! It is a wild, mad scheme!”
    “Not so bad as that, surely! I prefer to call it . . . a caprice.”
    “And are you really in earnest?”
    “Perfectly, Mr. Soane.”
    “Then I pray you will permit me to write and apprise a friend of mine of your coming. Teofilo Bergamini is a professor of ancient history at the University of Naples, a most august and trustworthy fellow. He frowns upon foreigners plundering the ruins for personal gain or gratification, but perhaps he might be persuaded to make himself useful to you, if he sees a chance of recovering the rest of the lost artifacts for his museum’s collection.”
    “Write to him, by all means,” said Arabella, “but please make it clear that if I succeed in locating the cache, the Pan statue is coming home with me.”

Chapter 4
     
    F EELING O UT B ELINDA
     
    A s the new parchment ponies bore her homeward (two cream-colored in front, two golden behind, one of each in the middle), Arabella lay back against the cushions, mulling over her sudden decision. She had not known she was going to Italy until she heard herself telling Soane that she was, and now her mind returned to the subject again, as one’s tongue seeks an oral cavern produced by the recent loss of a tooth. Because far from soothing her disappointment, having tea in the midst of Soane’s exciting collection had only sharpened her sense of loss. He had made a good point, though; the idea of traveling abroad during war-torn times was not a sound one, and it would be sheer madness to attempt the crossing alone, ignorant as she was concerning continental politics. Companionship was essential, and in the event it should prove impossible to secure anyone, she should have the perfect excuse to reverse her decision, without loss of face.
    Belinda was out when Arabella got home, having gone for a drive with Lord Carrington. Quite a long drive, as things transpired, for she did not come back again till the following day. The moment she returned, however, Belinda went in search of Arabella, to hear the final pronouncement on a newly purchased reticule. Somewhat to her consternation, she found the door to her sister’s bedroom closed.
    A few readers may be surprised to learn that privacy is as highly prized a commodity in a courtesan’s house as it is in their own. That being the case, however, it will be readily understood that Belinda, standing outside Arabella’s room and hearing the unmistakable sounds of a woman in the final stages of ultimate transport within, made ready to tiptoe quietly away again, after listening for only a very few moments.
    “Who is it?” called Arabella sharply.
    Belinda tiptoed back to the door, again. “ C’est moi, Bell,” she whispered into the keyhole. “I am sorry! But I did not know that you had company.”
    “I haven’t. I am quite alone. Pray, come in, Bunny. I wish to speak to