Guarded Treasure

© 2023 Mae Lovette All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmited in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permision of the publisher or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Angency. For my Mom Thanks for hiding that box of romance novels under your bed. Contents Chapter one Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Epilogue Acknowledgements About the Author Chapter one The office of Ronald Pimsley had the familiar nature of a traditional English study, but was stuffed almost to brimming with an impressive collection of rare Egyptian artifacts. There were shadow boxes of jewelry: a lapis scarab brooch, a turquoise and gold broad collar, a fiery carnelian and copper ring depicting the Eye of Horus. A curio cabinet contained vases of terra cotta clay, creamy ivory, and turquoise faience. On the west wall hung a four-foot ankh that portrayed a serpent encircling an obelisk in bronze. A small fig wood window box displayed several scraps of linen labeled for which mummies they had allegedly come from, and held space for future additions. The wall behind his desk featured a giant sculpture of the goddess Isis, showing the massive span of her raptor wings. Edith considered the irony. Isis was the protector of women and children. It was unlikely Pimsley recognized that virtue considering his penchant for treating a grown woman like a child. Her career as a female in Egyptology thus far had been an exercise in placating an endless parade of insufferable men just like the one she sat across from now. Suppressing a smirk, she stirred the tea his secretary had set before her. He sat behind his desk in a wingback chair with his hands folded in front of him, head tilted in curious fascination. The look on his face was that of a man who considered himself exceedingly patient and magnanimous. She already disliked him. The secretary served him tea as well, before turning to leave. He shamelessly ogled her rear as she walked out, not returning his attention to Edith until the woman’s backside was out of sight with the door closed behind her. Edith had to dig her nails into the palm of her hand to resist a full panoramic eye roll. Pimsley’s worship of Isis likely began and ended with her bare breasts, she surmised. “What a lovely replica of the canopic jars of Ptahhotep.” Edith smiled tightly as she gestured to the gleaming ceremonial jars on a bookshelf behind him. The alabaster lids were carved to depict a baboon, a jackal, a falcon, and predictably… a man. The jars represented one of the most distinctive elements of the mummification process, a ritual that was among the many aspects of ancient Egyptian life and lore that had fascinated the world. The containers were designed to hold the organs of the Pharaohs for safekeeping in the afterlife. “Replica, indeed.” he chortled. Edith narrowed her eyes suspiciously at his implication before she could think better of it. Certainly any real canopic jars belonged in a museum, not on the bookshelf of a slimy newspaper mogul. Out of habit, a well-crafted argument began to stack itself in her mind, but as things were, she wasn’t in a position to be disagreeable. Ronald Pimsley was the heir of the Near East Publishing Company, the crown jewel publication of which was the Alexandria Gazette. It was founded by his father in the late 1800s. Not only did it offer English-print reporting to British expatriates, it was also the premier source delivering Egyptian current events to Western newspapers. Walter Pimsley had been a journalist and editor abroad, and the Gazette was his proudest accomplishment; the culmination of an impressive career. His son Ronald, on the other hand, had only ever served in the capacity of a shareholder. He enjoyed all the advantages of being a tycoon, and did not trouble himself overmuch with the pesky business of running a news outlet. Since living in Cairo, Edith had come to know he was notorious for his collection of Egyptian art and ancient trinkets. This being the first time Edith had ever met with him or seen his office, the reputation that preceded him was shockingly accurate. “There’s no need to mince words, Miss Taylor. I know we do not wish to waste each other’s time.” he chuffed in his clipped King’s English accent. “Certainly not. As I said, I do apologize for arriving earlier than expected.” She polished up her own English accent, which had relaxed over her years living abroad in Egypt. She assumed mirroring would be an effective strategy in her pursuit to win over Ronald Pimsley, and she certainly wasn’t above switching on her nobility if the occasion called for it. “You see, I am quite eager to secure the position.” she said. “That’s all very good, Miss Taylor, but you see, I’m not quite sure you understand what you’re asking.” “Mr. Pimsley, I think you’ll find I’m a rather well-educated and intelligent woman, and you might be surprised how much I understand the things I say.” His brow furrowed quizzically at her meaning, but he nonetheless dismissed it as a pleasantry. “Yes, you’re certainly very well educated. Your letters of recommendation are high praise, and I can see you read history at Durham.” He leaned over to the stack of papers beside him, reviewing any details that could be gleaned from the top sheet. “I’m aware that your brother is lecturing at Oxford. He’s quite well, I hope?” She set down her teacup and joined her hands in her lap.