Amanda Grange & Jacqueline Webb (16 page)

“I see nothing of the kind,” said Darcy. “It is a tenuous connection at best, and at worst it is madness, the same sort of madness which infected our fathers. I am sorry now I agreed to help you.”

“You will not be sorry when we find the tomb and fill Pemberley full of its marvels,” said Edward. “Or when there is a Darcy collection at the British Museum. Only think what we will be giving to the world, as well as…” He trailed away.

“As well as?” Darcy prompted him.

“Oh, well…” Edward gave an awkward laugh. “As well as the treasures we will collect for ourselves. I know you do not need treasure, Darcy, but it is different for me. I have an allowance, of course, and it does very well for the moment, but I am a younger son, and a younger son must make his way in the world. He is so positioned that he has expensive tastes but not the means of satisfying them.”

“I seem to remember your brother saying something similar at Rosings many years ago,” said Elizabeth.

“I am not surprised. But he was lucky in the end. He fell in love with Anne, and Anne had enough fortune for the two of them. But S—” He stopped suddenly.

“But Sophie does not?” asked Elizabeth. “That is what you were going to say, is it not?”

He could not deny it.

“Are your feelings for her serious, then? You are not simply amusing yourself with her or trying to raise her spirits after her unhappy love affair?”

“No, I am not simply amusing myself, and yes, my feelings are serious,” he admitted. “There is something about Sophie,” he said, glancing toward her as she played with the children. “It is not just that she is pretty, although she is very, very pretty, nor just her sweet nature. There is something about her that makes me want to spend my time with her more than anyone else. When we are together, I feel differently about everything. The world seems better and brighter, and so do I. She is the only woman in the world I want to marry.”

“You know that she likes Mr Inkworthy?”

“I do,” said Edward, sounding glum, then he brightened. “But, fortunately, Inkworthy is not in a position to marry any more than I am. But when I find the tomb—”

“
If
you find the tomb,” said Darcy.

“Very well,
if
I find the tomb. But why should I not? Sir Matthew has found some promising signs of a tomb located nearby.” He turned to Sir Matthew. “Now that you cannot deny.”

“No, I cannot,” said Sir Matthew.

“It is there somewhere, Darcy; I can feel it.”

Elizabeth was growing fatigued by the heat and sat down. Sir Matthew, noticing it, said, “Gentlemen, might I suggest some refreshments before you continue your discussion?”

“A good idea,” said Darcy.

Elizabeth gratefully accepted. Turning to her daughter, who had wandered over to the map and was studying it intently, she said, “Come, Margaret, let us find something to drink.”

Margaret seemed not to hear her. Instead, she leaned over the map and studied it with even more innocent intensity. Sir Matthew smiled, charmed by her interest.

“Do you like the pictures, my dear?” he asked kindly.

Margaret looked up, a stern expression on her face. “They're not pictures; they're writing.”

“Indeed they are. We call them hieroglyphs and many great men have spent years trying to decipher their meanings.”

Margaret nodded almost casually. “That's Ammon and that's Husn. We're here at last. Aahotep is very pleased.”

Sir Matthew looked at her curiously.

“What did you say, my dear?” he asked.

“This is the place where Ammon and Husn are. Aahotep is very happy you're all here.” She yawned suddenly.

Elizabeth was disappointed that thoughts of Aahotep had not been left behind, even if the doll had not travelled with them, but reasoned that it would take some days, or even weeks, for Margaret to forget the doll entirely.

“Meg is tired after her long journey,” Elizabeth said.

“I have no doubt that is true, Mrs Darcy,” Sir Matthew replied. “Nevertheless, I would very much like to know where she heard those words.”

“Why? Do they mean anything to you?” asked Elizabeth. “I confess, they mean nothing to me.”

“They are names. Egyptian names.”

Edward, whose finger still traced the hieroglyphs, said, “It could be the meaning of these hieroglyphs here. Some of the pictures we have already deciphered fit in with those names. But there is no way Margaret could have known.”

He looked at her with a perplexed frown.

“Tell me, where did you hear those names, my dear?” asked Sir Matthew.

“It was Aahotep,” said Margaret, holding up her doll. “She told me.”

Elizabeth blanched. The doll Margaret was holding up was not her new doll, but Aahotep.

She tried to catch Darcy's eye, but he was looking at the map, and she was glad, a moment later, that she had not been able to catch it, for of course there was an innocent explanation for the unsettling occurrence: one of the maids must have come across the doll in the case of things to be left behind and, thinking it was a mistake, had repacked it in the things to go with them instead. But even so, it had given her a nasty turn. And now she was left with the problem of extricating it from Margaret all over again.

“Aahotep?” said Edward with a frown. He turned to Sir Matthew. “You do not think…?”

“Nonsense,” said Sir Matthew robustly. “We must not allow ourselves to get carried away by folktales. I must have mentioned the names when we all met in the British Museum, that is all, and the delightful Miss Margaret has remembered them.” He smiled benignly at Margaret. “What a clever girl you are.”

“Aahotep doesn't think you're very clever,” said Margaret without animosity. “She says you're very stupid.”

“Margaret!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“Dear me, does she?” asked Sir Matthew. “And why does she think that?”

“Because you haven't found the tomb. She keeps telling people where it is and still no one has found it.”

“And where is it, Margaret?” asked Edward before suddenly looking ashamed of himself as he realised he was treating Margaret's fantasy as if it were real.

“Out there,” said Margaret, pointing.

“Out there, in the desert?” asked Sir Matthew.

“Yes,” said Margaret, “buried in the sand.”

Elizabeth heaved a sigh of relief. For a moment she had expected her daughter to give them explicit instructions, relayed from the long-dead Aahotep. But “out there, buried in the sand” were the sort of vague directions any little girl would give.

“Well, we will just have to unbury it then, will we not?” said Sir Matthew.

Margaret nodded gravely.

“But not today,” said Elizabeth. She added meaningfully, “I think someone needs her sleep.”

And taking Margaret firmly by the hand, she allowed one of the
fellahs
to show her to the Darcy sleeping quarters.

“Margaret,” said Elizabeth, as she undressed her daughter and put her to bed for a nap. “You must not speak to other people that way. It is not polite.”

“It wasn't me; it was Aahotep. I like Sir Matthew,” said Margaret with a sweet smile. “It is only Aahotep who thinks he is stupid.”

Then she gave a huge yawn and closed her eyes, falling quickly into a slumber.

Taking her opportunity, Elizabeth lifted Aahotep out of the bed and replaced it with the new doll. Then she kissed her daughter on the forehead and went to find Darcy. He was sitting for Paul, who was busily sketching him, and Elizabeth did not like to disturb them. She listened instead to John's information about fighting in deserts and the difficulties of everything from supply lines to walking in sand, and she humoured her mother as Mrs Bennet told her how wonderful the young men in the camp were and how she had invited several of them to England.

“For I am sure your papa would be delighted to have them all at Longbourn,” said Mrs Bennet.

Elizabeth could just imagine her father's face if half a dozen handsome Egyptians invaded his home, and that face was not one of delight! But there was no use remonstrating with her mother, and so she relied on the language barrier to protect Mr Bennet from an invasion.

As soon as Darcy was free, Elizabeth went over to him and took his arm, steering him away from the others and toward the edge of the camp where they could talk in peace.

“I suppose we cannot persuade Edward out of the search for this tomb?” she asked.

“Unfortunately not,” said Darcy.

Elizabeth shivered.

“I cannot like it,” she said.

“Come now, it is just because you are tired. Or are you really regretting coming? We can always return to the boats if you wish.”

“No,” she said, reassured by his matter-of-fact tone. “As you say, I am just tired—and hot and thirsty. I am allowing my fancies to run away with me. There are many marvels in the desert and I want to experience them while I can. But all the same, I hope Edward either finds the tomb or realises it is not out there. One way or another, I would like his obsession to come to an end.”

“On that we are agreed. It is not just his obsession that worries me; it is the deceit. It is all the more unsettling because I have never known Edward to be deceitful before. He has his faults, as do we all—”

“Really, my dear? I did not know that you had any!” she teased him.

“I have kept one or two, for the sole purpose of allowing you the pleasure of correcting them!” he said, kissing her on the tip of her nose. “But if I had known that Edward had found the map… and yet he kept it from me.” His tone darkened. “It makes me wonder what other secrets he is keeping.”

The next day Edward was up early, stirred by his enthusiasm to find the tomb. The sun had barely begun to show its face above the horizon as he moved around the camp, loading the equipment he meant to take with him onto the camels, who stood placidly in the dawn light, oblivious to his nervous energy.

Disturbed by the noise, Sophie stirred. For a while she struggled to wake, exhausted by the exertions of the day before, then finally she washed and dressed in a loose muslin gown and tiptoed out of the tent she was sharing with the girls to find out what the commotion was.

“Edward, do you mean to leave us?” she enquired as she sleepily took in the sight of the camels and
fellahs
in their long white robes.

“Only for a while,” he said, gratified by the note of disappointment he fancied he heard in her voice. “The desert is vast, but I'm sure there are great treasures still to be found, and I mean to find some.”

“Bring me back a diamond,” she said, smiling.

“At the very least.” He hesitated and then moved closer to her. “Sophie, you know that although I am the son of an earl, my fortune is not great.”

“I believe I can match you in that regard,” she said.

“I would not wish to marry for money.” He hesitated and then continued. “If my prospects were better I would hope—”

Just then one of the camels, less tolerant than its fellows, began braying and kicking at a
fellah
who had tightened the girths too tightly, and some of Edward's papers began to fall to the ground. He glanced quickly at Sophie.

“We will speak more when I return,” he said.

Sophie watched him in the dawn's half-light, before drawing her shawl round her shoulders and returning to her tent.

Darcy and Elizabeth were also woken by the braying of the camel. Reaching for his robe, Darcy peered out of the tent.

“What is it?” Elizabeth enquired with a yawn.

“It appears Edward is making an early start,” Darcy said. He came back into the tent. “Do you have any plans today, my love?”

“After such a long ride yesterday, I wish for nothing more than a long leisurely breakfast and then perhaps to see what Sir Matthew has uncovered.”

“I think you are right,” said Darcy with a wry smile. Then he sobered. “I think I had better accompany Edward today. Ever since he walked into our drawing room in London last spring, he has been subtly changed and I want to keep him from further mischief.”

“Protecting him from himself?” asked Elizabeth.

“Yes, I do believe I am. It is not just his lack of openness; it is his unwavering belief he will find something. He has always been of an optimistic disposition but this is different. He seems unaware of the dangers to be found in the desert, blinded by his determination to succeed.”

He reached for his shirt.

“I had better get up as well,” said Elizabeth.

“There is no need for both of us to be disturbed so early,” he said. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and dressed quickly before disappearing out into the heat of the day.

When he reached the cooking fire, Darcy realised that he was not the only person who intended to accompany Edward on his quest. Sir Matthew was also dressed, a cup of coffee in his hand. He smiled jovially when he saw Darcy.

“Ah, Darcy, your cousin means to make me look like a slugabed. He has already breakfasted and is eager to be off. If I did not know better, I would think he had meant to start without us.”

Darcy cast an appraising look at Edward, who contrived to look guilty and unrepentant at the same time.

“It is the early bird who catches the worm, gentlemen,” Edward said. “And I mean to catch a very juicy worm today if possible. Do you care to join me?”

“Allow me ten minutes to give some instructions to my people and then we'll strike out together,” said Sir Matthew.

“I thought you did not believe in the tomb?” asked Edward.

“There are many secrets to be found in the desert besides your tomb. Mr Darcy, do you mean to come too?”

“I do.”

Edward smiled. “Our fathers would be proud of us,” he said, handing Darcy a cup of coffee.

Darcy said, “I wonder.”

***

Elizabeth went back to sleep after Darcy left and did not awaken until a more civilised time. When she rose, she found the children were already up and that Paul was hard at work on an oil painting, taken partly from earlier sketches and partly from the scene before his eyes.

“I thought a painting of the children in the camp would be interesting and would remind them of their adventures,” said Paul as Elizabeth approached.

“It is a good thing you have sketches to work from. Even in this heat, the children are never still.” She looked at the painting and was pleased with its progress. “Is it difficult to work the paint in the heat?” she asked.

“It is certainly not the same as it is at home in the cold and the damp,” he said, “but I believe I have mastered its use here. The paintings dry much more quickly here than they do at home.”

Elizabeth left him hard at work and went over to her mother and Sophie, who were eating fruit in the shade of an awning.

“Mama!” said Laurence, running up to her. “Saeed has been telling us all about the tunnels. When can we go and look at them?”

Saeed was Sir Matthew's most trusted helper, and Sir Matthew had left him in charge. He had been explaining the principles of archaeology to the children and had been telling them of the tunnels and plundered tombs that had so far been excavated.

“You may go after breakfast,” Elizabeth promised him.

“Saeed said there will be lots of rats,” said Jane in excitement.

Beth, looking very pretty in a white muslin gown which had somehow managed to remain unspotted by dust or sand, said, “I think I will stay here, Mama. I am sure Grandmama will stay with me.”

“And so I will,” said Mrs Bennet. “I cannot imagine why you want to spend the day in rat-infested tunnels.”

“I would like to go with you, if I may,” said Sophie.

The reason for her interest was not hard to find, for Paul was going to sketch them.
So
you
have
not
yet
decided
firmly
against
Paul
, Elizabeth thought.
And
with
Edward's obsession with the desert growing steadily stronger, it is perhaps small wonder. No woman likes to be ignored.
Out loud, she said, “We would be glad to have you with us.” Adding, “Would we not, Mr Inkworthy?” as Paul, having left his painting to dry, joined them.

“We would be honoured,” he said.

It was settled. Mrs Bennet would remain at the camp with Beth and Margaret, while the rest of the party would explore some of Sir Matthew's more recent excavations with Saeed as their guide.

The women put on their hats and pulled their veils down over their faces; then, donning their gloves and picking up their parasols, they declared themselves ready.

The sand had been trodden down into a path by the passing of many feet, and on the way they passed
fellahs
leading donkeys laden with sand and rubble. They came at last to a great hole in the ground and the children ran in and then out again, laughing and shivering at the same time, while Saeed smiled to see their horrified glee.

Elizabeth and Sophie folded their parasols and went down into the gaping hole, looking about them with interest, while Paul brought up the rear, his sketchbook never out of his hand.

Saeed told them about the excavation as they proceeded, and they spent an hour wandering through the damp darkness. Rats and mice scurried in horrid little corners, and Elizabeth was convinced she saw a bat once, although Saeed assured her there were no bats in the tunnels. They all carried a lamp, which thrilled Laurence. He kept swinging his backward and forward, insisting he could see ghosts and almost once setting fire to a workman's clothes. After that, Elizabeth had to insist he give up his lamp or be escorted back to the surface.

Paul was fascinated by the friezes that the workmen had uncovered, and he scribbled feverishly throughout their tour. Elizabeth could tell he was desperate to return when not encumbered by his employer's family. As he rushed to take as many notes as possible, covering his sketchbook with quick sketches and at the same time pointing out the colours and shapes of the ancient Egyptian artists, he did not neglect Sophie and he explained to her what he was doing and why he was doing it. Every now and then he ran his hand through his hair, rumpling it most attractively and flashed a smile at Sophie, who responded with a smile of her own.

Finally they returned to the surface, with Saeed promising Laurence he could return tomorrow and telling Paul he would arrange another visit with more lighting that evening, thankfully out of Laurence's earshot. They all blinked, finding the daylight too strong after the dark of the tunnels, but by and by their eyes adjusted and Paul offered Sophie his arm as they set off back to the camp.

Elizabeth changed for dinner and joined her mother and Sophie in the shade, where she listened with fond affection to an account of Beth and Margaret's day.

The sun was setting low on the horizon when John and Laurence came running toward Elizabeth with the news that they could see a caravan of camels heading for the camp: the men had finally returned. As soon as Elizabeth saw Darcy's face she knew the day had not gone well. Shepherding the children into her mother's care, Elizabeth joined him in their tent.

“You look tired, my love,” she said by way of a greeting.

“I am,” Darcy replied wearily. “We seemed to have covered hundreds of miles over endless dunes in search of nothing more substantial than mist, and yet still Edward insists the tomb exists. I wonder…”

“Yes?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Never mind, you have time to undress and rest before dinner. You seem to have brought most of the desert into the tent with you. What hope is there for Jane and Laurence when they have two such untidy parents!”

Coaxing and soothing him, she bade the servants bring cool water in a bowl, for once refusing the assistance of Darcy's manservant, and gradually, under her calm ministrations, his weariness faded. Finally he lay back on a rough canvas chair and smiled at her.

“Are you rested now, love?” she said, handing him a drink.

“Yes. You always know how to make me feel better.”

“Not always,” she said.

“When it counts. It is not your fault I have a young fool for a cousin, though luckily he is saddle sore and intends to remain in the camp tomorrow. Which means that you and I can return to the oasis and have the picnic I promised you.”

By the following morning, Darcy's uneasiness over Edward's obsession had evaporated. The sky was blue, the air was clear, and Elizabeth was looking enchanting. Her spirits had bloomed with the novelty of their trip, and he had never seen her looking lovelier. Her somewhat jaded air of the previous winter had given way to a new vitality, and the splendid sights and sounds of the pyramids and oases had rejuvenated their marriage, giving them some welcome opportunities to be alone.

Leaving the rest of the camp sleeping, they set out for the oasis. Elizabeth felt the warmth of the early morning sun on her face and the strong presence of Darcy behind her as they left the camp, riding on a camel. She was now used to the strange gait of the animal and felt safe on its back, enjoying the view it gave her of the rolling sand dunes. In England it would probably be raining, and the colours would be a dreary green and an even drearier grey, but in Egypt the sun shone down from a bright blue sky, turning the sand to gold.

“This is the real treasure,” she said as she looked about her. “I do not believe that any jewels could be better than this.”

Darcy's arm tightened around her waist and he kissed the back of her neck.

“Or this,” he said.

She leaned back against him, delighting in his nearness and in the feel of his breath blowing cool across her neck. When they had first married, they had often gone out alone, with Darcy delighting to show her the extensive grounds of Pemberley and then, later, the Derbyshire countryside. Together they had explored the wild moors, with their rocky outcrops and rough grasses—a countryside which was completely different from the pleasant Hertfordshire countryside where Elizabeth had grown up. They had ridden down small country lanes and climbed low, dry stone walls. They had walked across wide acres of turf, finally sinking down into swathes of glorious purple heather to kiss and caress and talk.

They had wound their way through woods full of bluebells and picked their way across bubbling streams, and they had climbed to the moors' summit and looked across at the vast spread of the landscape and then down at the small villages that nestled in the hollows.

But never had they been anywhere as entrancing as Egypt.

And yet, for all the strangeness of the landscape, Elizabeth felt something of the same sensations, for she was once more exploring an alien world with her husband, and only with her husband.

She put up her hand to stroke his cheek, revelling in the sensation of being alone with him. He took it and held it, kissing the back of it and then turning it over and kissing the palm. She leaned back against him and his arm went around her.

“I have missed this,” she said to him. “At home, our lives are full of other people.”

“Yes, they are,” he agreed.

“It is not that I am not grateful. I know we could not run Pemberley without such a large staff or maintain the grounds without an army of gardeners, and I know how lucky we are to have such a large circle of friends and family, but…”

“But sometimes it seems as though we are caught up in a swirl of people from whom we cannot escape?” he asked.