But Sophie looked uncomfortable at the intimation.
“Everyone will be pleased when they hear this,” said Elizabeth. “Edward’s parents as well, and I am glad. Edward has had to endure a deal of teasing over his passion for Egypt but now it has proved successful. I am glad that Sir Matthew thought to send messengers to the British Embassy straightaway. The sooner people at home know of Edward’s good fortune, the better.”
“Oh indeed,” replied Mrs Bennet, yawning.
As they returned to the others, Elizabeth put a hand companionably through Sophie’s arm.
“Take no notice of my mother,” she said lightly. “She has spent so long conspiring for good marriages for her daughters that she cannot stop now. I daresay she will be the same before long with Beth and then Jane and Margaret.”
“Your mother only said what was on her mind, Elizabeth, and in truth I cannot blame her for her curiosity. Sometimes I wonder myself what Edward’s intentions are. I thought, at first, that he liked me, but ever since reaching the dig he has been so distracted he has barely spoken two words to me. I do not blame him,” she said hurriedly. “Of course it is a wonderful find and I know that what you say is true—he has had to listen to a great deal of discouraging comments about his love of ancient Egypt. But even so… Sometimes on this trip he has been a charming and attentive companion and I have enjoyed his company a great deal—but at other times…”
She trailed off and Elizabeth nodded.
“At other times it has been as though you barely exist. And Paul is much more consistent in his attentions.”
Sophie looked up at the inky black sky with its fabulous blanket of stars. A warm night breeze ruffled the curls of her blonde hair and she looked delightful.
“Paul is also very charming, and apart from a few awkward moments at first, he has never been unpredictable. And that is a virtue I find very attractive, Elizabeth. Perhaps it is because of my misadventures last summer, but I do not intend to let anyone use me so badly again. I will not give my heart to someone who treats it as a toy to be played with—to be picked up in an idle moment and put aside when something more interesting offers itself.”
If Elizabeth had believed that Sophie felt more for Paul than Edward, then she would have said no more. But she was convinced it was Edward that Sophie really wanted.
“Well,” she said, “now that he has found his treasure he will have more time to spend with the living, and once his obsession has burned itself out, you will be able to discover if he is of an inconstant disposition or if this was a once in a lifetime distraction. Come, let us return to the party. The night is not yet old, and I believe Sir Matthew has many more toasts in him!”
They both laughed and returned to the table in a merry mood to see that the younger children had been escorted to bed but that William and Beth had been accorded the privilege of staying up later. Elizabeth was pleased to see her two oldest children treated with this new dignity, especially Beth, who was looking very grown-up in a long dress, with her hair in a grown-up hairstyle. Paul was talking to her gravely now, his forehead wrinkled in concern, and Beth was nodding seriously too.
“You seem very solemn,” Elizabeth said. “What can Mr Inkworthy be saying?”
“Forgive me, Mrs Darcy, I did not mean to bore Miss Darcy with my problems. I was simply explaining to her about the many sketches I have managed to make over the past few weeks. I did not expect there to be such an abundance of inspiration in an arid desert and now I am running out of paper. And yet there is still so much to document, especially when we return to the tomb tomorrow with the equipment and we will be able to see up close all the marvellous treasures the tomb has to offer. I believe I will have to return to Cairo to buy some more paper, but I am loathe to leave the dig at this exciting time, and I was asking Miss Darcy if she had any paper to spare. She has already given me some pages out of her sketchbook, but I fear there is no more paper to be had.”
“Hmm. A grave problem,” Darcy said. “One that I had not anticipated. I admit that even I thought you would only have to make a few sketches of palm trees and camels out here.”
“This is indeed a problem,” Edward interrupted, looking up from his own conversation with Saeed and Sir Matthew. “But maybe one that I can solve, at least temporarily. William, would you be so good as to go to my tent and find my documents case? I think I have some spare paper there.”
William jumped up from the table, returning a few moments later with the battered leather satchel Edward used to file all his documents. He pulled out a wad of papers and began sorting through them.
“There you are, Paul. I knew I had some paper to spare.”
So saying he handed Paul a thick notebook. It was very old and bound in battered red leather.
“You’re most kind,” Paul said, taking the book and skimming through the pages. “But are you sure about this? It seems to have some writing in it.”
“It belonged to my father. He gave it to me years ago when I was a boy and he thought my interest in Egypt was just a passing fad. I think he hoped I would become bored by his notes, and indeed some of them make dry reading. My father was very interested in the agricultural innovations of the farmers here. You remember the problems we have always had draining the lower fields at our estate?”
Darcy nodded. “It never seemed to improve no matter what he did.”
“Well, he wrote a great deal about the yearly Nile floods, and to be honest, I nearly did throw that notebook away. But further in he talks about the journey he and your father made, and some of the entries are fascinating reading. I thought they might be useful to us and so I brought it along, but I am happy to sacrifice the empty pages to Inkworthy’s art.”
Even his animosity to Paul had vanished, now that the tomb had been discovered.
“Thank you,” said Paul. “If you will excuse me, I will make a start. I want to make some further sketches while the images are still fresh in my mind.”
He made them a bow and then left them.
The conversation returned to the magnificent find. But just as Darcy was about to refill Elizabeth’s glass, one of the Egyptian servants appeared next to her with a broom in her hand.
“Apologies. I see a rat in your workbasket.”
Elizabeth jumped, horrified at the idea of a rat inside her embroidery silks. Seeing her distress, Saeed walked over to the workbasket himself and felt inside.
“There is no rodent in here, Mrs Darcy. The girl is just being overzealous.”
“Thank you, Saeed, you’re very kind,” Elizabeth said, but she felt a strange uneasiness. She, too, had thought she had seen the workbasket move, but there had been nothing inside it. Then, dismissing it as a trick of the light, she turned her attention back to the dining table, for Sir Matthew had just risen.
“I will wish you all good night, ladies and gentlemen. It’s been a long day and I’m not as young as I once was.”
Elizabeth thought he looked pale in the candlelight and felt another unaccountable stirring of unease. She asked him if he felt all right but he smiled as he took her hand and said, “Perfectly healthy, my dear. Just the rigours of the day catching up with me. Please stay and enjoy the rest of the evening with your family. I’ll see you all in the morning and then we will see what other wonders the tomb of Ammon and Husn has to offer us.”
Elizabeth watched him leave, waiting until he was safely in his tent before seating herself back at the table. She joined in the lighthearted conversation, as there was still a great deal of laughter after the excitements of the day, and soon her feelings of disquiet were put aside.
***
Paul had his own moment of unease on his way back to his room. As he passed the girls’ room, he heard murmuring coming from inside and stopped to listen, wondering if anything was wrong. He heard Margaret crying out, and although the word
s were indistinct he thought he caught the words, “No,” and “…ware.”
“Meg, be quiet,” he heard Jane say.
He wondered where the girls’ nursemaid was. She was meant to be sleeping with them, after Margaret’s sleepwalking episodes, but his question was answered a minute later when the nursemaid appeared, carrying a bowl of water.
“Miss Margaret was rather hot,” she explained. “I just slipped out for a minute and went to get some water to bathe her forehead. Is anything wrong?”
“No, not really. I heard Miss Margaret calling out in her sleep and I was concerned, but she seems to be sleeping again.”
And with that, he passed on and returned to his own quarters. He opened the book Edward had given him and for a time he was distracted by the account of Edward’s father’s excursion. The ink was somewhat faded now, but the words were still legible, and they told a fascinating tale.
“…today, George and I entered the tomb of the seven priests… the guides were against the visit from the start and refused to accompany us even after we offered twice the going rate… scorpions…” Here the writing became obscured by water damage, but he could make out enough of it to interest him. The tomb they had entered was unsafe but they were determined to explore it, as they were certain it was the tomb they sought. He managed to decipher the next bit: “…there was a landslide in the tomb, and as we had foolishly entered without guides we thought we were doomed. But luckily Wickham had remained behind as he was feeling a trifle unwell, and becoming alarmed at our absence he set out in search of us. Thank God he did! He worked tirelessly to free us, bloodying his hands raw and breaking a couple of bones tearing the stones away to leave an airway for us before going for help.”
Paul frowned. Wickham. The name of the third man. But Edward had never mentioned that he knew the identity of the third man.
Now why would he keep it a secret? Paul wondered.
But the lure of the empty paper was too strong, and telling himself that it was impertinent of him to interest himself in Edward’s honesty—or lack of it—he set about capturing the memories in his head and setting them down on paper.
Chapter 14
Sir Matthew did not appear at breakfast the next morning. Edward was at first impatient and then annoyed, for he was longing to be off.
“Patience,” said Darcy as he drank his coffee. “I am sure he will join us before long.”
But when, sometime later, Sir Matthew had still not appeared, Elizabeth said, “He did not look well last night. I think perhaps someone had better go to his tent and make sure he is all right.”
“Let me,” said Edward, jumping to his feet and moving off toward Sir Matthew’s tent with restless energy.
He returned a few minutes later looking annoyed and said, “You were right, Elizabeth; he is not very well. He seems to have a fever. He is tossing and turning in his bed and he feels very hot. The physician should be arriving later today, but…”
Elizabeth was on her feet at once.
“I will take a look at him,” she said. “It might be some hours before the physician arrives.”
She made her way to Sir Matthew’s tent, calling her maid as she did so. The two women went into his tent and discovered that he was delirious.
“Bring me my medicine box,” said Elizabeth, as she silently thanked Lady Potheroe for advice on which medicines to bring.
The maid departed and returned quickly, whereupon Elizabeth prepared a tincture for Sir Matthew and managed to get him to take it. Then, leaving Sir Matthew in the capable hands of his manservant, with instructions for Sir Matthew’s care, she left his tent and walked back across the camp.
The air was punctuated by frightened murmurs coming from the fellahs, and there was a good deal of wailing as well. She spoke little Egyptian, but the sight of charms being prepared left her in no doubt as to the cause of their fear: Sir Matthew had opened the tomb, and Sir Matthew had immediately been taken ill; therefore, the tomb had been cursed.
Shaking her head, she returned gladly to Darcy and to common sense.
“I am afraid Sir Matthew will not be coming with us today,” she said as she reached the breakfast tent. “He is far from well. He will be in bed for a few days at least.”
“This is the worst thing that could possibly happen,” said Edward, looking glum.
“It is not so bad,” she reassured him. “I am sure he will be up and about again before long, but not before the fellahs have decided his illness is a result of a curse.”
He saw her face and said, “So, it has started. They have already decided. At best, it will cost me a pretty penny to persuade them to return to the tomb, and at worst they will refuse to go anywhere near it.”
“I will speak with the men and find out what they are thinking,” said Saeed.
He returned ten minutes later and said, “It is not good. The men are saying that the magician is angry and that he has struck Sir Matthew down for his meddling. They are saying that Sir Matthew will be dead before nightfall.”
“But that is absurd,” said Elizabeth. “It is a fever, nothing more. You must tell the men, Saeed.”
“It will do no good. I have already tried to reason with them but they are convinced it is the work of a magician. And that is not all. They are now saying that a djinn was in the camp last night. One of the servants has been saying that she thought there was a rat in your workbasket last night, but that when the basket was opened there was nothing there. So they are now convinced that the rocking of the basket must have been the work of an evil spirit, one of the guardians of the tomb who is intent on revenge.”
“We must put a stop to this at once. If not, the men will run away and we will be alone in the camp. Even worse, they could spread their panic among the sailors and persuade them to leave, taking the boats back to Cairo,” said Darcy. “The best way to halt their flight is to show them that we are not afraid. If we cannot persuade them to come with us, then we must go ourselves to the tomb, just as if nothing had happened. When they see us setting out in good spirits and then, more importantly, see us return this evening, they will soon calm down—particularly when Sir Matthew shows signs of recovery. I suggest we start as soon as we are ready. Saeed, you had better stay here to make sure that Sir Matthew is given every care and to contain the panic.”
Edward lost no time in ordering the donkeys to be made ready and laden with everything they would need, as well as giving instructions for the planks of wood they would need to cross the moat to be carried between the donkeys. Their intentions were soon plain, and a pitiable wailing went up in the camp.
“Do not go, I beg of you, effendi,” said one of the fellahs, clutching at Edward most pitifully. “The magician will strike you down.”
“Nonsense,” said Edward, his eyes strangely bright. “There is no such thing as magic. If any man here is brave enough to come with me, I will give him double wages. If not, you must all stay here and wail like women.”
But neither the gold nor the jibe could sway the men, and at last Edward mounted his donkey with only Elizabeth, Darcy, Sophie, and Paul for company and a selection of guards for safety.
Saeed made one last attempt to shame the fellahs into picking up their spades, saying, “See, Mrs Darcy and Miss Lucas are brave enough to visit the tomb. Will you allow yourselves to be shamed by women?” But it did no good, for although the fellahs shuffled their feet and looked at the ground, they would not move.
“I’ll come!” said Laurence, who had been trying to persuade his parents to agree to his company all morning.
“See, even a child is not afraid!” said Saeed.
But although the men shuffled even more, they would not brave the tomb.
“Laurence, you can come with us another day, when we have made it safe,” said Elizabeth, “but today you must stay here. Be a good boy
and do what Saeed and Grandmama tell you.”
“Never mind,” said Edward, seeing Laurence’s face. “We will soon make it safe and then you will have your fill of excavations, I promise. I would rather have one of you than ten of these milksops,” he finished, looking at the fellahs in disgust.
Then, without further ado, they set out for the tomb.
***
George Wickham stood at the front of the boat with the wind rippling his hair. He was still a handsome man, and still very charming, still attractive to women. But underneath his superficial good humour, he was soured by his failure as a young man to marry an heiress. He had at last been forced into marriage with Lydia Bennet, having run away with her to London and compromised her beyond all hope of reclaim, and still bore a grudge against Darcy, who had forced the marriage.
It was Darcy who was to blame for every ill that had befallen him since then, for if he had not been forced to marry Lydia, he could have continued his quest to find an heiress and been living a life befitting his hopes and dreams, instead of one fitting his just deserts. And if Darcy’s father had not behaved so shabbily to his own father, then he would have been wealthy from birth and a gentleman of equal standing with Darcy.
But now revenge was in his reach: not the revenge he had once planned, when he had attempted to elope with Darcy’s sister, but still a desirable revenge and one which was capable of making his fortune.
“I do not see why we have to live on this boat,” said Lydia. “I am sure there is no fun to be had here.”
She had grown tired of flirting with the sailors, and she joined her husband at the front of the flat-bottomed boat which had brought them from Cairo and which was now moored a mile upstream of Darcy’s boats.
“Because, my sweet, this is where we will find the tomb. If my father had not destroyed his piece of the map, thinking it might lead me astray, we could go to the right spot and find the tomb ourselves, but as it is, we must wait for Sir Matthew to find it and then rob it of its treasures once it has been excavated.”