Isadora cleared her throat loudly and threw her a father a pointed look.
“I do apologize for aiming a gun at your face,” Mr. Fincastle continued in a begrudging sort of way that spoke volumes. His daughter had clearly given him an earful. She beamed at him and daintily took another sip of coffee.
But the blood drained from Tío Ricardo’s face. His mouth opened and closed, and he sputtered several unintelligible words. “You aimed your weapon at my niece? She’s a child!”
“You paid me for my services.” Mr. Fincastle gestured toward me. “She’s made a full recovery since. We ought to congratulate you.”
“Congratulations,” Mr. Hayes said to me cheerfully.
My uncle threw a murderous glare in the direction of Mr. Fincastle who nibbled on bread lathered in butter. “I’m afraid I still don’t know who you are, and how you’ve become a member of your uncle’s excavation team.”
“She is mostly here to keep me company,” Tío Ricardo said, and then he gestured to the burly man. “Inez, this is Mr. Robert Fincastle, in charge of our security, and his daughter, Isadora. They recently arrived from England.”
That explained Mr. Fincastle’s fascination with the weapons lined against the wall. He had probably brought them on board himself. It also explained how Isadora had stood next to him, firing her own pistol. It seemed no matter where I went, I was going to be surrounded by the British. I narrowed my gaze at Mr. Fincastle. Why would my uncle think we would need weaponry at an excavation site? I squirmed in my seat. It seemed highly unusual.
“Mr. Hayes you’ve met,” Tío Ricardo added, almost as an afterthought.
“True, but I still don’t know what he does for you,” I pressed.
“A little of everything,” my uncle said vaguely. “He’s an enterprising fellow.”
“Thank you,” Whit said in mock seriousness.
“Ricardo, this is highly irregular,” Mr. Fincastle. “You ought to send her back. Her delicate constitution cannot handle the demands of the journey.”
I bristled. “My delicate constitution?”
Mr. Fincastle gestured dismissively with his hand. “A typical quality found in sheltered females—such as yourself.”
His hypocrisy enraged me. “You’ve brought your own daughter,” I said through gritted teeth.
“We agreed I would during my contract negotiations,” Mr. Fincastle said. “My daughter isn’t delicate. She also didn’t sneak on board, and she knows how to behave herself.”
“That’s not to say that I wouldn’t have if you’d left me behind,” she said with a wink in my direction.
My lips parted in surprise.
“Regardless,” Mr. Fincastle said in an icy tone. “I prepared for all eventualities, and suddenly I have a new person to look after. That will cost you, Ricardo, if you insist on bringing her along.”
I sat back against the chair and clasped my hands tight in my lap. A vehement protest climbed up my throat. Mr. Fincastle’s damning implication of my character grated. He thought me reckless and weak. But my uncle had left me little choice. If he’d been forthright from the beginning, I wouldn’t have gone to such extremes looking for information.
“For the moment, it can’t be helped,” Tío Ricardo said. When Mr. Fincastle made to protest again, my uncle held up his hand, a hard line to his jaw. “I don’t see the need to include you in my decision.”
Mr. Fincastle kept quiet, but I sensed a deep mistrust toward myself and my uncle. Kareem brought several dishes into the saloon. The scent of sweet and savory food filled the room and my mouth watered.
“Have you been to Egypt before, Miss Olivera?” Mr. Fincastle asked.
“Not once. My parents loved this country, and I thought I’d get to know it for myself.” Privately I added, and to discover what happened to them. My attention flickered to my uncle, whose presence seemed to fill up the small space of the saloon. The more time I spent with him, the harder it was for me to view him as a criminal. He seemed passionate about his work, and his love for Egypt and its history and culture seemed genuine.
Could my mother have been wrong somehow?
My uncle must have felt my gaze because his own flicked toward mine. Our matching hazel eyes met, his warm and speculative, mine steeped in uncertainty.
Kareem and another waiter brought out the last of the meal. Everything was laid before us. Simple and serviceable plates were piled high with a variety of foods I’d never seen before.
Whit gave me the grand tour around the table. “The pastries are called feteer, and it’s delicious slathered in honey. But you can pair it with eggs and salty white cheese.” He pointed to a bowl that held round-shaped food, packed tightly into medium-sized balls. “These are called falafels, my personal favorite. Made of fava beans, and quite savory. Have you tried feta cheese? It’s also delicious with honey.” He paused, throwing me a rueful look. “If you’re thinking that I adore honey, you’d be correct. The rest you ought to recognize,” he finished in sly amusement.
I did; it was the fava bean stew I’d helped make the day before with disastrous results. To my astonishment, Mr. Hayes took my plate and served me a little of everything. Isadora watched him with keen interest. Everyone else at the table remained motionless. I could feel the subtle note of disapproval.
“Just how well do you two know each other?” Mr. Fincastle asked.
“We met a few days ago,” Mr. Hayes said with his imperturbable English. “So not well.”
“I see,” Mr. Fincastle said. “Why did you sneak on board the Elephantine, Miss Olivera?”
I gestured vaguely with my fork, deciding to be honest. “I don’t like being left behind. And I really am excited about all of the sightseeing.”
“Sightseeing?” Mr. Fincastle repeated faintly. “My dear, if you wanted to explore the land of the pyramids, might I suggest you pay for the services provided by Thomas Cook? You can join the hundreds of travelers littering the Nile.” He shifted his bulky upper body and addressed my uncle. “Or are we adding tourist attractions on our journey, and you didn’t tell me?”
“Of course not,” Tío Ricardo said. “We are heading directly to Philae.”
I perked up at this information. The island was famous for its legendary beauty and history. Excitement pulsed under my skin. “How far away are we, Tío?”
“It’s close to Aswan, where we’ll be stopping for supplies before arriving.”
Since I didn’t know where exactly that city was, his explanation didn’t help. Ever accommodating, or perhaps picking up on my confusion, Mr. Hayes came to my rescue.
“Aswan is near the first cataract,” he said. “And the location of several archaeological sites.”
“Cataract?”
“Good God,” Mr. Fincastle muttered.