Journey to the Lost Tomb (Rowan and Ella Book 2) by Susan Kiernan-Lewis Page A

looked like many men in Western dress.
One wore what looked like a British uniform. She noticed that there were still
more horse-drawn carriages on the street than automobiles. She tried to
remember if she had watched any Masterpiece
Theatre dramas set in this time period.   She only knew that the British were in
charge of Egypt after the first world war. Had
the war happened yet? There was no way to tell. It could be 1915 or as late
as 1930. While knowing that the Brits were in charge made her feel a little
less lonely— surely they would help
see a lost American woman was taken care of?— she knew she would have
to come up with a convincing story about how she got here.  
                By
the time her driver deposited her in front of the magnificent forecourt of The
Shepheards Hotel, Ella knew her new setting had electricity and cars and so
probably telephones, airplanes and basic medical care. When she handed her
driver a pound note, he refused the money but kept his hand out. Clearly, whatever the Egyptian pounds look
like now is was not what they will look like in 2013 . Without thinking, she
unbuckled her watch and handed it to him. Nearly crying out with delight, the
young driver pulled Ella out of his carriage and drove away through the throng
of people milling about in front of the hotel. The three turbaned doormen who then
approached her clearly had every intention of removing her forcibly until they
saw that she was not Egyptian.
                “We
may be of service, aanesa ?” The head
doorman spoke to her but still barred her from walking into the hotel.
                “I
am here to register, if you please,” Ella said in her most formal voice. It was
her experience that behaving like one belonged often allowed one admission in places
one didn’t in fact belong.
                That
obviously didn’t include Shepheards.
                “You
are visiting a guest, aanesa ?” The
head guy gave Ella’s a disapproving up-and-down look. She could imagine he had
never seen a woman dressed in tight jeans and a wet see-through blouse. She
hesitated, not knowing what to say.
                “Beryl,
darling? Is that you?”
                Ella
stepped back to see a young woman, no more than twenty, emerge from behind the
wall of doormen. Her eyes were a startling blue. Her hair was golden and pulled
in a Gibson upsweep. Her dress covered every inch of her from chin to wrists
all the way to the ground, where it swept the walkway in front of the luxury
hotel.  
                 “Oh,
yes, I can see that it is,” the girl said. Reaching out, she took Ella by the
elbow and tucked it under her arm. She was easily two inches taller than Ella.
“Naughty, Beryl,” she said, patting Ella’s arm with a closed fan and
maneuvering her adroitly between the two men and up the hotel steps. “We missed
you at dinner but I told them you were probably riding again.”
                “Yep,
er, yes,” Ella said. “That’s me. Off riding.”
                “Well,
come on, darling. Let’s get you upstairs and into a bath before they all come
back. Wouldn’t do for them to see us out on the street like this, would it? Can
you imagine what Edward would say?”
                Ella
allowed herself to be escorted into the magnificent Shepheards Hotel lobby. A
tiered crystal chandelier the size of a small minibus hung from the center of
the ceiling. Directly beneath it was a palm tree surrounded by three blood red velvet
settees. The entire floor of the lobby was covered by a huge ivory Isfahan with
a delicate pattern woven in peach and aqua. On the hundred foot ceiling was a
dramatic mural depicting Egyptian pharaohs and the pyramids. Forty-foot windows
with velvet drapes were sandwiched between giant mirrors surrounded by ornate
gold decorative frames. Ella’s new friend was chattering happily as they
climbed the massive